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uplatterme · 1 year

Text

Hidden Urges

cw: pre-memories!wanderer, sub!wanderer, dom!reader, gender-neutral terms and pronouns but reader has a cock, jacking off, hurt/comfort (my bad), overstimulation, crying, REALLY SOFT

a/n: probably one of the best fics ive ever written ngl. might write a part two with post-memories!wanderer if y’all want it.

———

You thought you had been daydreaming at first.

You stood outside the porch of your house and were met with a man who stood in the rain looking unbothered by the whole thing. He was just there, staring into nothingness despite some parts of his clothes getting wet by the second.

You bit your cheek, walking up to him and taking his wrist with your hand.

“Come in? I have supper ready.”

It took him a while to register but he eventually agreed with your persistence.

He introduced himself as a wanderer, he said, “I’ll be out when the rain stops.”

To which you replied, “Take as long as you need.”

You gave him some spare clothes which fit on him loosely as you hung the kimono to dry inside the house.

He was…a very pretty man.

You served him a bowl of porridge that he refused multiple times, saying that you should just eat it instead, that you need it more than him.

It sounded silly seeing as how thin the wanderer was.

“So, who are you really? Besides being a wanderer, I mean.”

Your question seemed to be something that he even himself couldn’t answer. He made that same face that he wore when he was in the rain, deep in thought, possibly contemplating everything that he had gone through.

After a few minutes, he opened his mouth to finally say something, only to be shut up with a spoonful of warm porridge inside his mouth.

You smiled, seeing him swallow the food even if you had to do it forcefully.

“How is it?” You asked.

“It’s good.” He answered, still stunned at how you had just spoonfed him.

“Yeah? Well, there’s more. Dig in.”

He reluctantly took the bowl in his hands, eating the food that you had generously given to him. You were so persuasive. He wondered if you realized that you had that effect on people.

You ate with him, telling stories of your own as you worried that you had scared him off from asking too much about himself.

A thought lingered in your head as you led him to a spare room before going back to your bedroom alone.

Why was it that he never shivered under the rain?

The rain didn’t let up for days. A storm had manifested instead, meaning any kind of travel would have to be suspended.

Wanderer felt that he was intruding so much already, he could go anytime he wanted to but leaving you alone didn’t seem right.

“Are you alright?” Your hand was on his forehead, checking his temperature.

You had somehow managed to sneak up on him again, he marveled at that fact, questioning whether if you purposely did it when he was busy thinking about something.

He tensed up when you removed your hand from his skin, eager to have more of your touch.

He cursed himself in his head. That had been happening a lot lately, a growing urge inside of him that didn’t want to leave and let go of you once the rain ended.

But that’s exactly why he needed to leave, he couldn’t get too attached.

He stayed in the spare room you had given him and each time he was alone, all these questions kept attacking his head.

Was he supposed to feel this way? Should a puppet such as him have these kinds of emotions?

The longer he stayed here, the longer he felt that he wished the rain wouldn’t stop.

Everything smelt like you. The blankets, the clothes, and eventually, even him.

He stared at the problem at the center of his legs. This too, had been bothering him.

It often happened when he thought about you, or whenever you touched him for too long.

He bit his lip, careful to not let any sound slip. Although these days, he wanted you to hear. To find him like this, all sensitive and spread out just to see your reaction.

Would you have shamed him and kicked him out of the house for this? Or, would you have praised him, telling him how much of a good job he was making?

His hand gripped his cock, imagining that it was you doing this to him. He sang your name softly, fingers now traveling to his tip, using the white liquid that had oozed out as a lubricant.

He continued pumping himself underneath the blankets, smelling your scent and bringing him into a high. His legs trembled with each stroke, knowing that he’ll make a mess once again on the bed that you’d kindly given to him.

“S-Sorry… I can’t help it—” He chanted apologies and came into his hand, his cum splattering to his thighs.

He needed to leave as soon as possible.

Unbeknownst to your guest, you too, were having a problem.

Your lip has been bruising with how many times you’ve been biting it.

You’re appreciative that you have a pretty temporary roommate like him, but he’d been driving you insane.

Like right now.

He’d been helping you out with dinners lately but with him being inexperienced, he tended to do things in a very questionable way.

For example, having cream splatter directly on his cheek while he whipped a batch. Or, bending his body against the counter to reach the spatula that’s on the other side instead of just asking for it.

It had your mind going through things that it shouldn’t. Such as imagining the said guest on top of you, taking you in as he tries his best to please you, asking you whether he’s doing it right. And worse, that’s probably the tamest thing you could think of right now, the others you’ve daydreamed about are ten times worse.

Has his shorts ever been that short?

You didn’t want to take advantage of him, seeing as he would do whatever you asked no matter how weird they may be.

You tried it once, asking him to fetch three blades of grass from the backyard and what do you know, he actually did it.

He seemed to think that he owed you, which isn’t really the case since you just wanted to help out.

What you wouldn’t give to see him gasping your name though.

“Hey, I never really asked this but would you like me to call you something?” You asked.

“Huh?”

“Ah, well. I understand not telling me your real name but uh, I’d like to call you something like a nickname.”

“It’s up to you. I’d be fine with anything you give.”

You bit your lip again. He’s so sweet!

That being said, you didn’t know what you should call him. Wanderer, huh? Honey is a bit too much, Darling is too domestic, Sweetie seemed like you were pampering him…

Why were these nicknames all sounding like pet names for a lover?

“You said anything, right?” You reconfirmed.

He nodded.

“How about Doll, then?”

He stilled, a deep breath leaving his mouth. He seemed agitated.

Did he not like it?

“I–Yes. That’s fine. Excuse me, I just have to get something in my room.”

He left before you could even apologize (for what?) or say a word.

That day, the rain stopped and you stopped seeing the wanderer ever since.

You tried to get it off your mind, spending time on your work or reading.

It didn’t help. He’d disappeared and if it weren’t for your bruised lips, you’d think the whole thing was a long dream that you’d just woken out of.

You laid your back on the doorframe of his room. It wasn’t a guest room anymore, it was his now. Even if he’d never come back.

Wanderer walked and walked, trying to distract himself from you.

The nickname hurt him and he didn’t know why. Was it because he was a puppet? He’d always been content with being one and if you had asked, he’d trusted you enough to the point that he’d tell you the truth.

Was there something he was forgetting? Something that he forgot which made him feel this hurt?

He stood outside of your house, his head leaning on the door, hand on the doorknob, when he heard a sultry voice talking.

Next, came the moaning and gasping. You were with someone else.

Get rid of them, they don’t deserve your touches. That should be for him, for his only.

His head ached.

He turned the knob slowly, walking towards your bedroom but stopped halfway through when he realized that you weren’t there.

You were in his room.

He sank to the floor, sitting there while he listened in.

“You seem aggressive.” The other voice said.

“Stop. Stop talking. Just lay there.” You replied.

“Really? How long is this going to last? All you’ve done is mark my neck and chest.”

Jealousy was all through his veins. Perhaps if he had never left, that could have been him in that bed instead of some random person.

He could hear you sigh disappointedly.

“You won’t even kiss me on the lips. You haven’t stripped out of your clothes and it’s been an hour! I know I shouldn’t complain since I’m getting paid here but come on.”

“God, could you shut up?!” You yelled angrily.

Your voice brought shivers to the puppet. You had never gotten mad at him no matter what. Not when he broke the dishes while washing them, not when he accidentally messed up a recipe, not when he spaced out and stopped listening to your stories.

“I didn’t mean it. Doll, I—”

Silence filled the entire house. Not a word from you or the other person. Not a single breath out of the wanderer.

“Shit, I keep—” You stuttered with your words.

“Can you just get out? Take the money with you.”

The person left without even noticing him to their left, in a hurry and understandably annoyed.

You didn’t think you’d get so desperate, hiring a person who could play his part.

You thought you could get through it, maybe a fuck was something you needed to get it out of your system. You knew it wouldn’t work but you eventually gave in to your desires.

A shadowy figure loomed into your vision.

“I told you to get out.”

“Are you alright?”

You brought your head up to see the wanderer looking at you with worry. Were you dreaming?

You stood up with shaking legs, running towards him to envelop him in a hug.

“You’re back.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

You frowned at him, why was he apologizing?

“What? I should be the one saying sorry, I brought someone else home and called you something you didn’t like.”

“Yes, but I overreacted.” He replied.

“It did trigger you, didn’t it?”

He nodded, overwhelmed with your warmth due to being out for so long.

“Yes. But I… don’t know why.” He said with his eyes on the ground, troubled.

“I see. We’ll figure it out.” You reassured him.

“We?” He said, surprised.

“Yes.”

You crashed your lips onto his, something that you’d thought of more than you should. Your hands were on his back while you pressed his body against yours tightly.

The sudden act brought the puppet flustered to a whole new level.

“Can I ask something?” He said, gasping for air as he separated from you.

“Hm?”

“Can you mark me like what you did with that person earlier?”

“Anything for you, love.”

The wanderer felt as if there were tons of butterflies fluttering away in his stomach. Love?

Him? Really?

His face is pressed onto the pillows, his ass up for you, as your finger slips inside of his hole so smoothly that you’d think this isn’t the first time that he’s doing it with someone else.

He moaned loudly, fingers gripping the sheets and cum dripping onto them.

He still could feel the bruising on his chest all the way to his neck, there was more and deeper than what you did to your invited guest earlier, obviously wanting to prove to him that it’d never happen again, that it would only be him.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Each day with you drove me positively insane.” You told him.

He cried your name, feeling another finger penetrating his walls.

“M-Me too. I’ve thought about it a bunch of times.”

You hummed pleased, removing the fingers that let out a whine from his throat.

You flipped him over, wanting to see his perfect face, and spread his thighs away from each other.

“Can you show me? Can you show me what you do while you think about it?”

He nodded, red coloring his cheeks.

He took his right hand and started from the base of his cock, stroking it but not all the way through, leaving his own tip unsatisfied. The whole scene already had him trembling, he wanted to look away from your eyes but at the same time, he was relishing from the attention.

“Hnn—Ah~” He breathed out your name, continuing to fuck himself with his hand.

“How many times have you done this?” You questioned.

It took him a while to answer, his head mostly focusing on only the pleasure and ignoring everything else.

“A-A lot. I clean the sheets before you wake up so you don’t notice.”

“Ah, such a good boy, aren’t you?”

He whimpered from the praise, a spray of his cum coming out hastily.

“That won’t do, though. I’m kicking you out of this room.” You said, giving his thigh a pinch, his cock twitching for release.

“You’re staying in my room now. If you want to jack off, you’ll be doing it in front of me just like this…Or, there’s always the other option.”

“W-What?”

“You could always ask me to help you out.”

He sobbed out a pathetic noise as he finally reached his orgasm. The bed sheets were already ruined and you haven’t even taken your clothes off yet.

His attention is brought back once he heard you unbuckle his belt.

“I’m gonna make you cum with my cock, the same number of times you orgasmed in here alone.”

“Okay.” He answered, awaiting what it would be like to finally have you inside of him.

Wanderer choked on his own breath when you first penetrated him, it was much different from your fingers. He felt so full of you, each time you thrust in and out of him had his toes curling from pleasure.

He continued whimpering, tears dripping down his cheeks while you held onto his slim waist, pumping him of your length.

His first orgasm from your cock is abrupt, too quick for even him to register it as you didn’t even stop, continuing to pound even deeper and rougher. His cock limped as it juiced out his cum.

It didn’t last long as with one specific hit to his prostate, Wanderer squeaked out an embarrassing noise, his cock hard once again.

“I’m going to ruin you, love.”

“Please do—Hah~”

His body felt lifeless, thighs too tired to even shake even if they wanted to. Your hands doing all the work, whether to switch his position, or make him face you as you fucked him just to see the faces that he would make, high on the pleasure.

Perhaps it was due to his anatomy that it wasn’t hurting, though he supposed that didn’t sound too bad either.

He blushed from his own thoughts, they had been bothering him since earlier. Where were these coming from?

“Do you need me to stop?” You asked him.

“No, keep going.”

His legs were in the air, carried by you, pushing even deeper into him despite that sounding impossible.

Wanderer teared up again feeling his next orgasm coming, he didn’t even know if he’d be able to cum, already milked out dry.

“Hnghh!” He whined out, proven wrong when you used your other hand, palming his tip.

He came for the last time, exhausted and empty as you pulled out.

“Should we take a bath together?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go there.” He panted, laughing at his situation.

He was covered with his own excretions and yet he looked just as lovely.

“Nonsense! I’ll carry you!”

“Alright then, love.” He returned the nickname, tugging at your heart and bringing you to a smile.

You two did spend more time in the bath than you expected though.

Oops.

#sub genshin #sub genshin impact #dom reader #dom!reader #sub!wanderer #sub wanderer #sub!scaramouche #sub scaramouche #scramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #plattered writings

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specificallyjude · 8 months

Text

social media au: fanboying

pairing: mason mount x driver!fem!reader

summary: a private, but not secret relationship being ruined by the one and only lando norris warnings: swearing. this is also a female reader fic so pls keep that in mind before reading. author note: please ignore any inconsistencies, this is all fake so don't take anything too seriously. I originally starting making this while mason was at chelsea, but then transfer season happened and I had to scrap everything and start over. also if you ever see me reuse any photos in future au's...no you didn't.

----------------⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆------------------

₊˚⊹♡ monaco gp 22 ♡⊹˚₊

y/n.username

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 1,453,778 others

y/n.username monaco you will always be iconic ⭐️

view all 34,950 comments

user i love the y/n and seb duo

user aaahhh everything about y/n in monaco is iconic

landonorris does monaco being iconic have anything to do with your good luck charm being in the paddock this weekend?

↳ user uuuhhh lando is there something you want to share with the class??

↳user do we think he's referring to a man

↳user he better not be, y/n is my wife

masonmount

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 789,345 others

masonmount first time in monaco. thank you @redbullracing

view all 34,234 comments

landonorris hey mate 👋

user what is lando doing here??

↳ user I'm pretty sure he's friends with mason

↳ user yeah there's pictures of them at the McLaren headquarters together

↳ user wow...this is such a random crossover

y/n.username posted a story

replies:

user omg did you meet any of the players???

user girl i thought you were a villa supporter. what is this betrayal??!!?

↳ y/n.username don't worry i'm here for business purposes only

user does there happen to be a good luck charm on the field??

₊˚⊹♡ [time jump] barcelona gp 23 ♡⊹˚₊

liked by y/n.username, maxverstappen1, and 785,234 others

masonmount always good luck in barcelona

view all 653,589 comments

redbullracing so glad to have ya this weekend 👏

↳ user mason's biggest flaw is being a red bull fan

user are we not gonna talk about y/n liking this post

↳ user relax she's allowed to like other people's posts

↳ user ikik but mason also used good luck in his caption, and lando did say she had a good luck charm in the paddock last year in monaco

↳ user they could just be friends you know

↳ user he's also friends with lando who is starting front row tomorrow so it could be about that

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, landonorris, and 945,252 others

y/n.username i was forced to spend the whole flight next to this idiot. please barcelona be good to me.

view all 264,305 comments

lando norris boo tomatoes...you literally wanted to fly together

↳ mason mount i mean she does have a point though

↳ y/n.username thank you 🙏 finally someone with common sense

user guys we got our first mason x y/n interaction...i'm calling it they're dating

↳ user ngl they would be cute together

↳ user them being lando's collective biggest hater is so silly

↳ user couples who hate together, stay together

user why do y'all ship y/n with everyone she talks too, i've had enough

↳ user i know, at this point people think she's dating half of the grid

↳ user it's gets so annoying I don't know how she handles it

f1 drama just posted

Aston Martin driver y/n y/l/n seen with a mystery man after 2023 Barcelona gp. They were seen entering and leaving a driver's after party together following race day. Who do you think this mystery man could be? Could it be a fellow driver or possibly her alleged good luck charm?

comments

user i'm telling y'all it's charles

↳ user nah nah nah it's definitely mick

↳ user you're all delusional

user i feel like he's not a driver, maybe a footballer?

user @f1drama you guys need to stop posting shit like this and let her date in peace. this is her private life.

↳ user fr respect her privacy

₊˚⊹♡ [time jump] 2023 summer break ♡⊹˚₊

mickshumacher posted a story

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, sebastianvettel, and 854,348 others

y/n.username a well deserved break 💐

view all 237,947 comments

sebastianvettel I hope you're having a nice summer holiday

↳ y/n.username awww i am, come back please, we miss you

↳ sebastianvettel we?

↳ y/n.username i*

↳ user seb really exposed her on main

landonorris nice flowers

↳ user what do you know that we don't ??

↳ user no because who the fuck is that... we MUST know

user y/n casually soft launching a relationship this really is silly season

user queen please tell us who that is and if he can fight

user I'd buy her an even bigger bouquet if she'd just give me a chance

lando.jpg posted a story

y/n.username

liked by masonmount, fernandoalo_oficial, and 1,598,268 others

y/n.username my good luck charm 🌟 (@landonorris you better watch you're back)

view all 794,284 comments

landonorris everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days 🤷‍♂️

↳ landonorris I should not have to witness you two being gross and clingy by myself

↳user NOT THE HANNAH MONTANA LYRICS

↳user honestly landos story was a public service act

masonmount love you my flower 🤍💐

↳ masonmount but let's be real you don't need me as a good luck charm

↳ user stop he's cute and supportive and calls her flower. I need to lie down

↳ user is it a reference to the summer break post?

sebastianvettel congratulations you two from the whole family !!!

↳ y/n.username thank you 🤍

↳ user omg seb is such a dad

↳ user stop they're interactions are always so wholesome

charles_leclerc so this means no more googly eyes at each other across the paddock right?

↳ danielricciardo I don't think that's gonna happen mate

↳ user so basically everyone on the grid knew

↳ user the way they're all complaining about how in love y/n and mason are...my heart is hurting

masonmount

liked by y/n.username, benchilwell, and 1,734,027 others

masonmount my girlfriend is in fact hotter than you

view all 625,804 comments

y/n.username please delete immediately

↳ y/n.unsername I have never worn a man utd shirt. this is defamation. villa for life.

↳ masonmount you're too cute

↳ y/n.username hehe love you 💕

benchilwell so happy for you (please stop making out in front of me it's traumatising)

user can they let us live pls I can't handle all of these cute ass posts

↳ user some of us are too single for this

↳ user I need to go lie down on a highway

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x female reader #f1 x driver!reader #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #football imagine #football x reader #mason mount instagram au #my writing #mason mount

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daizymax · 3 months

Text

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the ways we love #daizymax

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 3 months

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How about a Hualian x calamity!reader oneshot? Maybe HC and reader know each other already and pursue XL together? Idk, love your writing tho!

Gang up

Hua Cheng x calamity!reader x Xie Lian

So sorry it took a while, I had strep these past few days but I feel good now so ty for being patient with me 😙🖤🖤

I tried to make it vague enough to where you can input your guy's own character in there 🥰🙏

I hope it isn't too short, and if you can't tell I pulled some make believe facts out of my ass. Have to change the story up a little bit

Spoilers Below!!!

____________________________________

Everyone talks about the four calamities, but recently all three realms have been talking about a fifth one. Another terrifying, devastation level calamity. Because that's all the heavenly officials, someone else to worry about.

That's your bad, woops. It's not like it was on purpose. Maybe. It's not like it was your fault. Really! They should have known by now but your crimes and deeds have been hidden behind Crimson rain's for so long, everyone has thought there were only four calamities. Now, with so much activity from Hua Cheng it's impossible to hide behind him. Oh well.

Now you get your own title, lore, rumors and all that nice stuff since everyone knows you now. It's crazy how fast words spread.

You've always been here, in fact you and Hua Cheng appeared one right after the other. So of course with such a close timeline one of you was going to overshadow the other. Not that you have a problem with this.

Surprisingly you and Hua Cheng know each other well. You met a long, long time ago and have been friends ever since. Since you're such close friends. Why not live in paradise manor together, why not rule a ghost city together too? The two of you really are glued to each other's side.

The base of your friendship? Xie Lian. Now of course it's more than that. You're both dead, both calamities, both know Xie Lian, would do anything for Xie Lian, both knew Xie Lian. . .

You guys still hold affections for one another though so it's okay. And the best thing? I lied. You guys aren't friends at all. After hundreds of years of knowing each other you and Hua Cheng have seen the absolute worst in one another. You still stayed. He still stayed. Just because you guys are lovers doesn't mean that you're going to stop pursuing Xie Lian either. There's nothing wrong with three.

Now the second best thing is that none of you harbor jealousy against the other because usually you guys are side by side like Siamese cats causing trouble.

Very often the two of you gang up to pursue Xie Lian together. You guys even bully heavenly officials together. It's all a part of the fun.

So when Xie Lian initially hears about one ghost? He meets two. Like, okay so he has two calamity body guards. Neat. The same goes as follows. Just when he thought he only had to deal with one smart mouth, it's two. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are very annoyed by this but Xie Lian finds it endearing.

It's actually very nice. He used to have two people by his side, but then the trio was separated. Now he has two people by his side again and he doubts that you two will be leaving anytime soon.

Though, since you're actually a known calamity now the stories and details change up a little bit. Xie Lian can click a few more pieces of the puzzle together.

I mean how do you think Hua Cheng got so good in bed, he wasn't practicing on statues alone. How did Hua Cheng get his smooth, suave, attitude? That'd be you too. You had to encourage him to actually make a move on his precious dianxia instead of seeing him act like a blushing maiden anytime Xie Lian looks at him.

Not that you can speak differently on that one. You've always been there through Hua Cheng's worse and. . . worser. You're both awfully silly. Silly enough to give Xie Lian your ashes one random day.

When Xie Lian woke up with a ring of ashes around his neck? Pause. One ring? Isn't one missing? There's two of you. Hua Cheng and you so, where are your ashes.

He's absolutely delighted and curious when he finds out the two of your ashes are mixed. He finds it endearing the two of you trust each other that much and are so close. That's how he learned the two of you were lovers.

Because that's a big risk, a big promise. To mix your ashes and give it to one person. If Hua Cheng goes, you go too. If you go, Hua Cheng goes too. Which on a usual note would never happen.

Hua Cheng breaking Xie Lian's shackles is not a usual note though. He's devastated when not only one of his lovers fades away into a flock of butterflies but when his other lover does too.

The two of you would never leave him alone though, not with that ring around his neck. He knew you two would come back and you both did. Hand in hand, running to Xie Lian excitedly. The two of you would never have to disappear like that again.

Xie Lian doesn't mind that there's two of you. he has two hands, more the merrier. He's happy and loved. Isn't that all that matters?

____________________________________

I thought this new ashes idea of mine was cute so 🥰🙏 I hope you guys find it cute too

Sorry about grammar mistakes

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf x male reader #xie lian x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #mxtx tgcf #mxtx #Tgcf oneshot

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herzgeist-writes · 7 months

Text

One Piece Headcanons - Renamed

Characters: Zoro, Law | Trope: Them giving you pet names | Content: for female readers / Wholesome - enveloping you in fluffy teddy bears

A/N: Clearly, you are their kryptonite. Feelings are blossoming towards you and what better way than to give you a 'different' kind of name? This is for the girls out there, who need some red tint on their faces and make their hearts go 'doki doki' ఌ

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

My Girl It involuntarily slips out of him, when he’s either extremely proud or confident in your abilities to conqueror anything standing in your way. His chest swells with pride, whenever he sees you take on hordes of marines, kicking their asses without effort. And the way you move, it all makes it seem so easy. A ferocious and passionate woman? Count him in.

“Oi (Y/n)! Are you alright over there?”

He calls out to you while watching you fight five marines at the same time. With one single blow, they bite the dust. You heard the swordsman yell something incohorrently.

“Huh? Did you say something, Zoro?”

“Oh uh, no. Nevermind.”

Tilting your head in question, you shrug it off nonchalantly and proceed in printing those marine fools some more footprints into their behinds. The swordsman chuckles to himself.

“Hm, that’s my girl.”

Sweet thing Is what he calls you when he’s quite playful. Always his first choice when teasingly bickering around with you, sometimes leaving his lips with a hint of sarcasm. It drives you insane - and that’s his goal. How can he resist that pouty face, when you huff at him like that. Naturally, he won’t admit it to anybody, not even you. You are just his sweet thing, end of story.

“Come on, Zoro! Let me try it!”

“No means no, (Y/n). That’s high potent sake. Nothing for a little girl like you. It’s the ‘I’ma split your head the next morning’ kind of alcohol, you don’t want that, trust me.”

Holding out to the mug in his hand, which dodges your failed attempts in grasping it, you blow up your cheeks in annoyance. No chance, (Y/n). The Vice Commander won’t let you taste the ‘demon’s blood’, but your expression changes soon after, for you have a secret weapon. His kryptonite is laid bare.

“You’re just afraid I will beat you in a drinking competition.”

“Oh? Now I wanna see you try. Drink up, buttercup!”

He hands over another mug, sake nearly overflowing from the brim.

“I can taste victory already!”

“Oh sure, sweet thing.”

Though you haven’t even placed your lips onto the rim, to let the brazen liquid flow down your throat, you’re already burning up. It’s the handsome smile he flashes at you, while lulling you in with his raspy voice. To Zoro’s notice, he doesn’t understand, why you’re already glowing so hard. He just called you his sweet thing, so what?

"Sweet thing?"

"I mean, aren't you?"

Oh dear . .

Hot stuff This man is so TACKY. Zoro isn’t a man of big words, hence he sticks to the silly namings, even when things get ‘steamy’ he prefers to adress you softly and caring. Unless you ask him to get more ‘foward’ with his wording, which by the by only you can unlock in him. After all, he’s the King of Hell and there’s no way he keeps away the more ‘ferocious’ side from you, giving you the whispered spicy nothings you deserve. . . However, that stays behind closed doors, dear (Y/n).

“That’s a nice workout routine you got there. Care to share, hot stuff?”

While you’re on your felt like quadrillionth biceps curl, you nearly let the dumbbell fall to the ground by his rash choice of words. Hot stuff? Heat rises into your head. Is he doing this on purpose?

“D-Don’t tell me you like what you see?”

“I do. Very.”

Screaming internally, you find it way too ambiguous of you. He just means the work out. He just means the work out. Based on your reaction, the green-hair can tell he must have said something to fluster you, and now he is the one, babbling in mere abashment and uncertainty.

“Yeah . . you look hot- I MEAN you look good! Great work out for you. Tones your body nicely- WAIT NO I . .”

Backing up he slowly treads out of the room, rambling about and occassionally stumbling over his own feet, or words in his case. You have to supress a girly giggle as you observe how his face begins to radiate. It’s the first time he ever called you that and something tells you, it won’t be the last. In the distance you can hear:

"Shit! What was that about? Hot stuff? What was I thinking? Damn it, might as well just cut off my tongue."

That drama queen.

Dove You’ve gained his full trust, respect and affection. It’s a sign of his feelings caving in for you. When you hear him say it, the strong and composed swordsman he is, melts by the sight of you. There’s nothing better than calling you his Dove, seeing you take on all kinds of colours in your face, mainly red that is. Besides sake, you get him drunk on a different level. So, KAMPAI, Dove!

The Straw Hats organised one of their famous banquettes once more. Everyone is cheerful and in the mood for good food and head spinning ale. The Vice Commander however is nowhere to be seen, for he usually hangs around the sake barrels most of the time, when events like these are planned. As you take a look at the crows nest, you find your sleepy swordsman staring out the window.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Mhm? Hi, guess so.”

Shifting to the side to give you some space next to him, he stretches his arm out, beckoning you to come over. You comfortably nuzzle against him, soaking in the warmth he emits. This feels . . strange, having such an intimate moment as friends. Perhaps, you hope it could turn out to form into something more? As if he read your mind, he speaks.

“Hey, umm . . this might sound weird, but uh - can I call you Dove?”

“Dove? A weird name indeed, but I take it. What made you think that suits m-“

Before you can finish your sentence, he shuts you up by turning your face to his, with his fingers on your jaw, and gently places his lips on yours. Well, that explains why he chose to call you Dove. Butterflies start to flutter around in your stomach and you gaze deeply into his onyx coloured eye.

“I think it’s . . cute.”

“It is.”

Taking a deep breath in, he continues.

"Whenever I feel down, you are the one bringing me up again. You are the wings lifting me up, giving me the ability to soar through the skies, showing me a different angle of the world."

Big words for a man of his usually reserved nature. His arm snakes around your waist from the side and pulls you even closer. Your heart just left out a beat. From now on, you gladly are his Dove.

(Y/n) Did you notice it? Yes! He left out the suffix. You should be honored he decided to grade you a level up. But in all honesty, he took a liking to you and your name. He thinks it to be rather pretty, it would be a shame to destroy the sound of beautifully aligned letters, as if molesting the title of a charming book. You have earned his trust. Interest - is peaked.

Sitting at a bar counter, you enjoy the evening at an inn, where the crew decided to take a break. It wasn't as calm as you excepted it to be, for a overly friendly and slimy man couldn't stop talking, obviously hitting on you.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable around you, dumbass?"

The creep scurries off to the other side of the bar, all the tension in your shoulders crumbling, sighing subsequently in relief.

"Thank you, Captain."

Law gives you a reassuring nod and goes his way again.

"It's my job, (Y/n)."

Almost waiting for him to speak out that '-ya' of his, you tilt your head. Did the loud stir of the bar swallow that small suffix or . . does he deem you worthy of calling you by your normal name now? Your heart skips a beat out of happiness, hoping for the latter.

Sweetheart Teasing is one of his daily routines. Running out of ideas to get you either flustered or bewildered, he saw fit to take it up a notch. His heart races whenever he rolls the ‘sweetheart’ off his tongue, in order to adress you with a hidden sarcastic intent. Over time though, you begin to be his sweetheart. Just by the thought of you growing on him makes him shiver - positively.

"Why do you keep on doing this (Y/n)?"

"What do you mean?"

Innocently nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie, you flutter your puppy eyes up at the now faltering Captain, who furrows his brows at you.

"Baking cookies? We're pirates! Not some sort of- mhm . ."

You stuff his mouth with the tasty and crumbly goodness. Laughing at his fuming face, it's obvious to you he isn't completely opposed to your sweet counter attack. He keeps on chewing.

"Good right?"

Earning a low rumble in response, he averts his gaze and gulps loudly. His stern eyes sway over to the tray, filled with more crunchy cookies and you deny him that 'hungry' wish right away.

"Nope. Those are for the others. That was the only one for you. Besides, I thought you didn't like sweets., let alone dough."

Suddenly he takes a seat next to you, leaning in closer to you. His lips curling mischeviously, face now dangerously near yours.

"Oh how considerate of you, sweetheart."

Hold on, sweetheart? Frozen in place, you stare into those mesmerizing grey orbs, the perfect moment for the doctor to 'shamble' the snack into his hand and make a go for it, which he does without a word, practically sprinting out of the kitchen door.

"H-Halt! I mean wait! Stop right there! Trafalgar you thief!"

Darling He has you trapped in his room and vice versa. There you stand, no chance to escape. (No, he won’t sing it to you.) Besides singing that sweet jazz, that deep sultry voice loves to call you his Darling, when the time has come to playfully show you, that you have affected him. It’s a sweet name, however it bears a hidden, more lecherous intent, depending on how he enhances his words around you. Once or twice you caught him oogling you with those steel eyes, that’s when you realise, he does have a male instict, wanting to ‘court’ you, simply explained.

It's time for your annual classic health check up, no devil fruit voodoo, for he prefers to reserve his power, if not neccessarily needed. Meaning, you'll have to - strip. Oh don't worry, you're still wearing your underwear, nonetheless, you're heart beats out of your chest whenever he inspects your body, writing down your vitals and searching for any anomalies.

"Tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort."

Some touches tickle you, some induce your heart with pumping fuel and others make you go weak in the knees. The last one is new. What makes your position even more difficult now, is the fact that the stethoscope is up next, to check your heart rate.

"Are you nervous?"

"As if I am. It's just . . cold. That metal . . thingy."

"Stethoscope."

"I was about to say that."

His breath grazes along your naked skin, as he keeps on listening to your heart from the front and back. To your sassy comment, he can't help but chuckle lowly and gives your back a gentle glaze of his slim, wrapped in rubber gloves fingers, before moving on.

"Of course you were, darling."

If that doctor puts on that silly stethoscope again, he would have heard that literal jungle drum in your chest. He knows what it does to you, when he plays that extra sultry card on you, all with a hint of mock and sarcasm. Yet, a tiny slip in his voice tells you, he actually enjoys calling you that. - He is torture on two legs, keeping you on your toes.

My heart This is the part where you have defeated him completely. He is addicted to you and your cute reactions of him calling you his heart. Who would have thought a cold and serious man like him could be unintentionally romantic? Though he appears to be lacking the ability to express his emotions thoroughly, it doesn’t mean he can’t slip by and whisper your new title at you by coincidentially meeting in the Polar Tang’s corridors. As long as there is nobody around, snooping about of course. Though uncomfortable to show it in public, he gives it his all to prove his point that he is oh so head over heels for you.

He HAS HAD IT with you and your annoyingly adorable round puffy cheeks, whenever you throw a temper tantrum at his commands you vaguely dare to disobey. You leave him no choice but to:

"Room . ."

"O-oh no. Wait I'll-"

"Shambles."

You'll never get used to that. Finding yourself far off from the others at the harbour, he has warped the both of you to a secluded alley of the adjoining town.

"You. You. You! Just. Just!"

Visibly upset he throws his arms through the air, close to snake his giant palms around your neck to strangle you, however restraining himself with a forceful shake in his hands. Restless he walks up and down the narrow cramped aisle. He comes to a stop before you.

"I BEG you, to stop acting so god damn cute! Your back talk gives me even more reason to just . . to just-"

You shrink away from his intimidating demeanor and apologize with glistening eyes. A white hat on your head takes you aback, for he roughly propped it onto you, now pulling down the tip to restrict your vision and . .

"You idiot . ."

. . kisses you.

"Stop being a bratty crew mate and be mine already, my heart."

#one piece #one piece zoro #one piece roronoa zoro #one piece law #one piece trafalgar law #one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #zoro x reader #law x reader #fanfiction #fanfiction fluff #fanfic fluff #fluff #headcanon #Renamed

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winxwiki · 5 days

Text

On the Winx reboot leaks

Long post, leaks analisis, spoilers if you don't want to see it under Read More. Seeing the Rainbow artist names attached onto these pictures and the development renders, these are 100% real. On top of that, It's not the first time Rainbow got something leaked, received feedback and acted accordingly. Remember the negative feedback on the 2023 easter eggs designs? Poof, gone. Remember the positive feedback on the 2023 leaked group design? Suddenly, Rainbow started using that Bloom at press events.

I genuinely believe that Rainbow "leaks" stuff now on purpose to receive feedback without actually needing to announce anything final to broadcasters.

Let's see.

From the Lorem Ipsum we can tell this isn't remotely final, but a group test. We're back to Bloom with a ponytail (they really like it!) and Tecna does have robotic limbs. Each girl's design seems to reflect their elements:

Stella has stars, the sun, wings at her feet and light, even light rays on her wings and top

Bloom seems to have scales of some sort and patterns on her leggings. Maybe to indicate that she's an artist? Or meant to represent the breath of life?

Musa, the smallest, got some musical sheet onto her. Overall not the most musical inspired design. Everybody kinda looks like an ice skating ballerina.

Flora got flowers. Really most obvious one there.

Aisha's hair is a bit too much, I prefer her civilian braids more. I like how her dress has wavy patterns of sorts and sparkles that look like shining waters on her shorts and skirt. They can do better on her though. Wings look like they got splashes of water. It's still cool that Rainbow is experimenting more with black textured hair than any american animation studio, so kudos for that.

Tecna looks like she's wearing a circuit but looks the most generic. Probably because she has too much going on with a full bodysuit with patterns. I don't like the accessory on her head.

Proof that these are real: these obvious dev documents

They even got an alt with their "civilian" hairstyles, but it says "transform". Which means no hairstyle or design is final so far.

It seems Musa and Tecna share skintones, Bloom has her own, Stella and Flora share it too, Aisha has her own and is the darkest. I think we can make Stella and Flora a little darker each in varying degrees, to show that Stella is tanned and Flora is a dark skinned latina.

There is a lot of focus on the designs we saw leaked that got positive reception. It's likely they will be finalized, since they went as far as making a test animation with that Bloom design.

A lot going on here in this room already giving Bloom so much personality. Her own shelf with the name with a heart-shaped B. A guitar? A sketchbook and school supplies. Bloom is back to drawing again, we last saw that in World of Winx but in the main series it was always just left implied by her earth room's belongings and her huge drawing desk, yet it was never expanded upon. Hopefully her being an artist can finally shine through her personality.

Most importantly, she's back to being silly, goofy and expressive again. Of course, the reboot is back to square one with the story and characterizations. I hope more quirks that were not explored in the main series get more attention in the reboot (again, like Bloom being an artist!)

The Trix now got a symbol and individual faces while sharing the same body. Icy's design is nearly identical to the original, I actually like the small cuts showing skin on her chest, so she doesn't feel too covered up. Midriffs are back and so is 2000s fashion.

Important detail, Icy is taller than Bloom. Is it her heels? Regardless, we got some more body diversity.

Some more notes:

Artist is credited as Pasqualino Masciulli, a real 3d artist at Rainbow

Date is 17 April 2024, for some reason they're using the wrong format. This is VERY recent. They're NOWHERE near done!

It says episode 106. It must be a reference to the reboot itself, Season 1, episode 6, as the old series episodes in total were 208. This means the series has at least finished writing and storyboarding, but they haven't finished with the character designs yet!

Further proof that fucking nothing is done yet, the leaker said this. From what I just noted above, I believe it. They're not remotely done.

This "Damien" motherfucker looks ai generated, doesn't fit the style in the slightest with his weirdly realistic face and the belts details and clothing folds are all over the place. Shame to whoever did this.

Who even is this guy? Is he the new character Iginio was warning us about? He doesn't look bad but they can do even better. Definitely a fascinating choice for the sexy bad boy, because I know that's who he's gonna be.

Don't fucking use AI for your art, though. It looks like shit.

Interesting, no specialists in the leaks. No Roxy or Terra either though.

This outfit is a mix of 2 outfits from season 2. Which means they're studying their own old designs. The same goes for another Bloom render and concept.

Fascinating detail: they're using 2000s dress up pixel dolls as reference. Learn from the masters! This dress doesn't resemble anything and doesn't seem to be a civilian dress but a transformation one, with all the glitters and stars around.

Last but not least, absolutely atrocious 2000s fashion is back (this is a good thing). We can hope a little but it's surprising how in 5 years they haven't done shit yet. That's some development hell. Either Iginio is really passionate about making this the second coming of Christ or they don't know what the fuck they're doing.

Free hopium tanks!

#winx club #long post #text #reboot

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years

Note

i absolutely loved your recent explanation of french to english and english to french translations! sometimes, i read a book translated into english and you can just tell with the way sentences are traslated that they were written in another language first e.g. 'praising the portentous architecture of the sky with trite formulas' from elena ferrante's book (trans from italian).

not diminishing native english writers but that sentence stood out to me as like "oh okay, i dont know if a native english writer would have written that but, from my understanding of italian, that's been directly translated", it was very interesting if you understand what i'm trying to say. thank you.

You my friend are a sourceist ! :) As we call people who enjoy “feeling” another language right underneath the surface of a translation.

There’s a whole rivalry between translators who favour “sourcières” vs. “ciblistes” translations (as we say in French). Literally it’s sourceist vs. targetist, but English prefers verbs so I think you’d call it foreignising vs. domesticating translations. Basically it’s whether you prioritise the source language (preserving as much of its specificities as possible, even if it means “foreignising” your own language a little, writing in a way that will feel a bit unnatural to your reader) or prioritise the target language (“domesticating” the original text to make it more familiar to your reader, like when American publishing houses re-publish British books and change “Mum” to “Mom”). It’s often simplified as, are you more loyal to the author you’re translating, or to the reader you’re translating for. Most translators will say you need to find the right balance between the two extremes (but most translators are secretly targetists) (that’s my impression anyway.)

Both methods can lead to awful translations when you go too far in one direction—I remember making a post a couple of years ago about a translated book I was reading that was set in Kazakhstan, in which a character (who was supposed to be speaking Kazakh in the context of the story) said “We can’t invite every Tom, Dick and Harry.” That’s domestication gone too far—it was so jarring and nonsensical in a setting where all the characters had names like Kazangap and Sabitzhan!

But foreignising can also go too far—it’s difficult to do it well because you need to make sure the foreign phrases, concepts or connotations you preserve don’t clash with your own language’s concepts or connotations (or writing style preferences). It happens infuriatingly often in French books translated from US English that the translator keeps the word “college” to mean “university”. I don’t know why this stupid mistake is so common, they’ve got to be doing it on purpose, do they think it makes the book feel more American? But it just confuses the reader because collège in France is middle school. The word already exists!!! and it brings to mind 11-14 year-old kids so it’s really jarring and takes you out of the story when you need to remember every time that the “collège” students here are older teenagers. There are times when calquing foreign words or phrases in your translation is a bold, interesting choice—but not when it removes something (meaning, clarity, connotations) from your language.

It does work when it adds something—novelty or poetry or a connotation that tells you something about another culture without clashing with your own. Like in your example, if you calque an interesting turn of phrase that feels natural in one language and less so in another (but more poetic, intriguing, etc), then your language gains something. I like when translators do this with terms of endearment, like preserving “my little lizard” or w/e instead of replacing it with kitten or your cultural equivalent—if I’m reading a book set in another culture, I’m delighted to learn what silly things people in that culture call their kids or SOs. But it doesn’t work if it removes something from your language—for example if a character in a French novel calls a boy a term of endearment that’s masculine in French but feminine in Spanish, better change it to something else so you don’t confuse the Spanish reader / make them wonder if the boy is being teased or what—you’re asking them to remove meaning / connotations from their language to replace them with something else and the clash just takes you out of the story.

So it’s always a balancing act between your love and respect for the original language / culture / author’s writing style, and your duty to the reader, who needs something familiar enough to be intelligible and pleasant to read. (But at a certain point domesticating your translation too much suggests a lack of respect for your reader’s ability to handle unfamiliar concepts and their curiosity about other cultures.)

I remember reading an article by a translator of, I think, Uyghur, who wanted to keep the phrase “like a third-day moon” to describe a finely curved eyebrow. That's a foreignising translation if your culture isn’t familiar with the lunar calendar and the typical reader is clueless about what the moon looks like on the third day of the lunar month—but if they can guess from context that it’s a delicate eyebrow, it’s not the jarring sort of foreignising that takes you out of the story because you can’t figure out the connotation or it makes no sense in your language; it’s the kind that makes you go “oh, interesting phrasing” and might teach you something (but in a subtle way!) about the kind of culture that would use it. It’s one of the joys of reading translated literature, to discover details of another culture almost without noticing, without having them explained to you in so many words. You’re just absorbing them by osmosis by being immersed in a story in which the translator managed to preserve the right kind & the right amount of surprising little turns of phrase.

#ask #language tag #i loved your ask; it gave me food for thought!#ou de la nourriture pour mes pensées comme qui dirait

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trans-luis-serra-navarro · 5 months

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Knowing me I’m gonna absolutely make this into a longer post but like. Isn’t it just SOOOOOOOO SILLY AND SO GOOFY that Luis bestowed the role of Sancho Panza onto Leon even though they’d only JUST met

Like,,,, Don Quixote isn’t just a book Luis loves a lot- he bases his ENTIRE MORALITY on his own ideas of what Don Quixote means and what the messages behind it are. He SURROUNDS himself with chivalric ideals and so, obviously, he holds that book and it’s characters VERY near and dear to him- hell, he doesn’t even let Ada or Ashley in on just how much this damn book means to him!!!!!!! The other scientists who he worked with during his time with Los Illuminados also called him Don Quixote, but realistically, how much would they have known of Luis’ deep-seeded love for that novel??????

So like. Clearly. There is NO WAY IN HELL Luis doesn’t understand the impact of Alonso (Don Quixote himself) and Sancho’s relationship. He ABSOLUTELY understands the importance of it and how vital to the tale each other are and how intrinsically intertwined they are in each others lives and how one would quite literally have not survived without the other and how they’ve gone through hell and back for each other (in Alonso’s eyes LITERALLY) and how Sancho was there for him when his illusions of fantasy finally faded away

So. Like. Luis picking Leon to call his Sancho HAD to be purposeful right????????

He HAD to have understood the weight of his words and the weight of his decision. Maybe Leon didn’t quite understand at first but Luis????? Luis knew DAMN WELL that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza’s relationship went further than two people who just happen to be on the same adventure. Luis picking LEON to be his Sancho was PURPOSEFUL.

He’s not just any old chum he happens to he stuck with; Leon is a man who fully encompasses EVERYTHING GOOD Luis believes in in the world. Leon is EVERYTHING his chivalric ideals want him to be. He’s an inherently kind and caring and selfless human being and he’s everything Luis wants to see in himself. He saved him from certain death and now they’re connected more by just the circumstances of their situation- they’d go through hell and back for each other and they HAVE. He wants Leon not just to like him but to LOVE him. Because Leon sees past his actions; he sees past his mistakes and up until now, nobody has ever given him that privilege. Just like how Sancho still believed in Alonso and still believed that there was worth in his fantastical delusions.

So how does Luis express this gratitude without just straight up saying ‘I love you’????

By using language he understands and is comfortable using, of course.

By projecting a story that has meant SO MUCH to him onto the both of them.

And GOD. THATS SO POIGNANT TO ME. HES TELLING LEON HE LOVES HIM IN A WAY HES BEST AT AND MOST COMFORTABLE DOING. HES SAYING ‘I LOVE YOU’ IN ALL OF HIS ACTIONS AND PROJECTIONS. WHICH MEANS MORE THAN THOSE THREE WORDS EVER COULD. HES USING HIS OWN LOVE FOR THAT BOOK TO PROJECT HIS LOVE ONTO THE PEOPLE HE CARES ABT GODDAMNIT‼️‼️‼️

(ALSO SIDENOTE THIS DOESNT JUST APPLY TO LEON!!!!! THIS APPLIES TO ASHLEY AND ADA TOO!!!!!!!!!!! HE PROJECTS THIS SAME LAMGUAGE ONTO THEM AS WELL, JUST NOT TO THEIR FACES!!!!!!!!!! HE SHOWS THEM KINDNESS AND LOVE IN HIS ACTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!)

And I think on some level Leon knows this too. He probably hasn’t analysed Don Quixote from every angle possible like Luis has, but he knows- in those final actions, when he takes up the mantle of his Sancho and confirms to Luis that, yes, he WAS a fine knight, he WAS his Don Quixote- I think he knew exactly what Luis had been trying to say to him this whole time. Just…. Using words that best describes it in his own way.

#human language is cool man #also there’s just. Yknow. the inherent queer coding of Don Quixote and Sancho that can’t be ignored HDNSHSNSHDNDJDJ #like it’s a GAY BOOK #but even that aside love doesn’t have to mean strictly romantic!!!!!!! I’m talking abt it in a broad sense!!!!#he loves Ada he loves Ashley!!!!!!!! he’s so full of love and these people for the first time love him back for who he is!!!!!!!!#so he uses lamguage he can exprwss himself with to explain it!!!!!!!!!!!#luisposting #serennedy #serrenedy #serrennedy #luis serra #luis sera #luis serra navarro #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ashley graham #ada wong

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this-aint-massachusetts · 4 months

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MORE FNAF HCS BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT

more hcs because I’m losing my mind and I can’t contain the sillyness any longer

-Mike sometimes have nightmares of William succeeding and Abby being another victim of his and will get up in a cold sweat to check on her in her room, sometimes glad to see her staying up late because it means she's still there

- Abby gets nightmares of Mike not waking up when she ran over to him and wakes up in tears, and goes and climbs into his bed, forcing his arm up to sneak in and hold her, he's usually awake by then and tells her everything will be okay and that he's okay

-Abby is really picky about the texture of her stuffed animals so Mike learns over time and buys them accordingly, even warning people ahead of time if they ever wants to buy one to bring him with her

-When Mike really got into doing pushups, if Abby was awake early enough she'd sit on his back or play with her dolls on his back pretending it's a boat in the ocean (he complained at first but took it as another moment to be with his sister)

-Ness is the type to remember everyone's orders, he has them memorized by their third visit His boss would be impressed if he wasn't constantly yapping to the customers disrupting kitchens flow

-Mike Found the song that the animatronics played and will play it for Abby sometimes and watch her dance, glad to see her smiling again (until he's invited to dance to which he pretends to hate witch makes Abby giggle)

-Mike: "Abby if I die here you can draw on my grave, wouldn't mind.

Abby: "Please don't talk like that."

-After waking up, Vanessa chose to take a bit of a calmer job as a SRO at Abby’s school

-Mike went to Abby's school for her lunch to surprise her for her birthday and Vanessa is only is told it's a "surprise visitor" & nearly makes Mike piss his pants w how scary she was to greet him before seeing it was him

-Vanessa is very caring when it comes to Mike or Abby being sick or injured. Mike has a really hard time excepting help so he just pretends he’s fine until he can barley function

-Abby loves to paint others nails but not hers, if she has any kinda nail polish on or paint on her nails she’ll bite at them

-Ness writes little silly puns and jokes on to-go orders and will for sure spend forever choosing the right one and will wake up the next day with an even better one and be down the whole day

-Vanessa is really, like embarrassingly bad at bedtime stories, like Mike tried being nice about it but Abby wasn't

-Mike is both the pickiest eater and the will try anything guy at the same time

-Abby Was taught to warn Mike of cops on the road but now she recognizes Vanessa's car and says "there's Vanessa!" And she purposely pulls him over to chat with Abby

-Abby called Mike dad by accident and he couldn't stop crying for hours and Abby thought she offended him and made it a thing to call him "big brother Mike™”

-Abby will pretend to be asleep for more time in bed and Mike's comfort. Mike knows damn well she's awake but doesn't have the heart to actually wake her up and finds himself playing with her hair and glad she's safe

-Abby still has Mike's old security badge and vest and likes to go around pretending that she has a taser and goes around "defeating animatronics" which is just tickling Mike while he's trying to get work done

-Abby before the events at Freddy's she was always warned by Mike about the germs in a ball pit so that one scene was quite literally a last ditch effort for her

-Vanessa has been asked multiple times to scare Abbys bullies but gives the corny "tell a trusted adult they're not worth it" speech to her and feels proud about it. Mike tells Abby to just beat them up /hj (She takes his advice and both get lectured by Vanessa)

-Mike was 100% ready to fight Vanessa if he needed to because he really needed the job and was fully prepared to live up to the "keep people out" rule (based off the scene where they first met)

-Mike entered his emo phase the second Garrett got taken and left it the second he got custody of Abby, mostly because he was too busy to dress up anymore

-Abby managed to get ahold of Mike's taser from when he was a mall cop and brought it in for show and tell

-Vanessas first reaction to seeing the fazbear band for the first time was to ask why the band didn't have a drummer and William grounded her for seven months and didn't speak to her the entire time because he was so deeply offended and embarrassed

-sometimes when the animatronics get bored they dial random numbers into the phone and see what happens and one time they managed to call the White House completely by accident

-Abby and Vanessa do sister stuff together like braiding hair, baking cookies, and playing Barbies with insane reality tv level drama (it freaks Mike out but he just assumes it's girl stuff he wouldn't understand)

-Mike was really into skateboarding when he was younger, he doesn't do it much anymore but whenever he needs to flex on someone he whips out the triple kick flip and everyone is like how tf is that pathetic wet cat of a man doing that

-Ness runs a blog on Livejournal that’s basically food theory but in the 2000’s and he takes it very seriously

-When they were at the pizzeria Abby found the ballon boy figurine and wanted to take it home because she thought it was cute. Mike almost had a heart attack when he found it at the house

-One time Abby found Mikes bong and thought it was a vase so she put some flowers in in and put it up for decorations, Mike, Ness and Vanessa nearly pissed themselves laughing when they saw it

-Abby is obsessed with furbys, Mike on the other hand almost shit himself when he heard it talking in the middle of the night. Fear only got worse after Freddy’s

-Mike couldn’t afford an ambulance to drive Vanessa to the hospital so he just called a taxi (Cory went through enough that night so he just gave up and drove them, he was pissed afterwards tho because blood got all over his seats)

-Abby has a fish tank in her room that’s just filled with bugs and dirt, Mike has insisted to get rid of it multiple times because it smells rancid and the bugs kill each other regularly

-It took Mike 5 times to just get his learners permit

-William was a frat in collage

-Ness and Abby are both bug lovers and both cry when you squish a bug, Mike hates bugs and doesn’t get it

-Mike likes fishing and is lowkey hyperfixated on it

-William kept all the important files in a small ass trapper keeper that he stole from Vanessa

-Mikes car hasn’t been inspected in eight years, not cause he thinks he won’t pass he just forgot to do it and just never did it again (but srysly look at it it’s fucking disintegrating)

-Mike also doesn’t like when other people take care of him because he doesn’t want to be seen as needy but Vanessa and Ness are like: “YOU WILL TAKE MY LOVE AND CARE GOD DAMNIT!” (In a loving way tho)

-Ness steals the crayons from the kids menus and gives them to Abby

Oki final part for now because I can’t think of anything else 😜

#securitywaiter #fnaf movie #fnaf ship #fnaf #ness fnaf #mike x ness #mike fnaf #mike schmidt #ness the waiter #vanessa afton #abby fnaf #abby schmidt #my headcanons #headcanon

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solarwonux · 1 year

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Business Proposal || knj (3/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 6.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

prev || next || m.list

a/n: Kind off a filler chapter, but also let the drama commence we are literally just getting started haha. Again, I’m going to be pretty busy for the next month so I don’t know when I’ll upload another part. But I hope you like this one and as always lmk your thoughts. Thank you.xx

The knot in your throat is hard to ignore as you put away your belongings in cardboard boxes. The tiny apartment that served as your home is looking more barren with the more things you take down and pack. Jungkook always made fun of you for giving meaning to silly things and getting attached to them. He calls you a hoarder and maybe he is correct about you hoarding shit you don’t ever need, but you call yourself a collector.

Why else would you have twenty different pots and pans in different colors. Plates and bowls in different shapes, sizes and designs. And you don’t even want to think about all the mugs you’ve accumulated over the years. Or the little trinkets that are carefully scattered all over your apartment with purpose. Or the tiny shelves with miscellaneous pictures of different moments in your life. Your clothes are a different story you haven’t even made a dent in the pile sitting on top of your bed, and you’ve already packed two full suitcases.

You’re grateful for Jungkook, and that he’s here just looking at you with judgment instead of voicing his negative opinions about you not being able to let go of shit. Though, he keeps reminding you that most of your things might be put in storage anyway. Namjoon is very particular and according to Jungkook nothing cute or with colors other than indigo, black, white and beige exist in his apartment.

“What about this?” Jungkook holds out a tiny black rabbit figurine in between his thumb and forefinger. You got it at a street market a few years ago because you believed it would bring you good luck. Though, you aren’t sure where that luck has gone because you certainly have none of it right now.

“I’m keeping it.” You hold out your hand and he places it, in the middle of your palm rolling his eyes.

“You’re going to have to get rid of something Bunny.” He says as his hands fall down by his sides in defeat. “My brother’s not going to let you keep any of this.” He signals to the many boxes you have already packed.

You shrug, folding up the last of your winter sweaters and placing them neatly in the box in front of you. “But I can still decorate my room how I want so I don’t care, plus I already got rid of some kitchenware.”

Jungkook sighs, “Yeah after I literally fought with you for an hour. And you still have so much of it, I don’t know how you expect Namjoon to agree to keeping an air fryer, a coffee machine, purple pans, that weird pot that kinda looks like a toy, and a hot pink blender. Don’t even get me started on the weird heart shaped bowls or that one plate that looks like cheese or the twenty five mugs you kept.” He lists with his fingers before running a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you he’s as minimalist as the word suggests.”

“Kookie, they're so cute I can’t get rid of them.” You argue, “plus they mean a lot to me.” You close the box in front of you and tape it shut. Last night you decided that all your winter stuff will be going into the storage unit in Namjoon’s apartment building. If what Jungkook says it’s true and that his brother literally has nothing. Then you can only assume so does his storage unit. Plus he’s already offered it to you.

“They’re ceramic.”

“So, I got them all for a different purpose in different moments of my life therefore they mean a lot to me.” You say sternly and stand up.

“Whatever you say.” He puts his hands up in defeat and turns around to the shelf he had been working on taking down. “Honestly now I’m kinda glad you are going to be living with Joon, seeing him irritated is amusing.”

You roll your eyes moving to the pile on your bed. Putting away your summer clothes is next on your to-do list.

“Why do you have so many clothes anyway?” Jungkook whispers from behind you, making you groan, throwing the pale yellow shirt you have picked up in his direction.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

Jungkook slyly smiles. It only irritates you more. He may be a full year older than you but sometimes he could be more annoying than your actual younger brother. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” He bites back, picking up a skimpy baby blue lace cheekster. “You’re going to wear this in front of my brother?” He cringes holding it out as if it were the plague.

The embarrassment is evident on your face as you snatch it away and throw it somewhere behind you. “If you’re not going to be of help, get out.” You spit out, avoiding his eyes as he bends over in laughter.

You let out an annoyed sigh, picking up an oversized blue button down and folding it. “

“I’m just fucking with you Bunny. You can wear whatever you want in front of my brother. Just give me a heads up before I walk in on the two of you–you know.” He gestures inappropriately with his hand, earning a glare from you, which only makes him laugh again.

“No I do not know because whatever you’re insinuating will never happen.”

“That’s what you say now.” He accuses, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

You pick up a lavender blouse with white flowers on it and throw it in his direction. “Make yourself useful and start folding.”

Jungkook smiles widely, throwing your blouse over your shoulder. He reaches out and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away forcefully. He winks at you before saying, “You make it so easy to fuck with you, Bunny.” He starts folding your shirt and adds, “I thought I taught you better, where’s your back bone?”

“Keep talking and I’ll show you how well I remember all those self defense moves you taught me years ago.”

The pizza arrived at exactly ten. The movers had arrived an hour earlier, taking your bed, lounge chair, desk, kitchen table, kitchenware and old decorations. Everything else you had like your clothes and small miscellaneous things were in boxes waiting to be loaded into Jungkook’s car. Your old couch was on the curb waiting to be picked up by the donation trucks.

Now, you and Jungkook were sitting in your living room–old living room–with a Hawaiian pizza and two large beers in between the two of you. Your brother and his wife left as soon as the movers did. So, it was just a lonely last dinner in your apartment with Jungkook.

“You can always just move in with me.” Jungkook speaks up taking a big swing from his beer can. “I have like three spare mattresses and Bam recently learned to not get up on the couch without permission.” He mapped out, picking up another slice of pizza.

You throw the pineapple slice you have picked off into the box. As much as you had fought the shaggy haired man against his decision even bringing up your pineapple allergy. You had lost the very intense game of rock, paper scissors twenty minutes earlier.

“No thank you. I’d rather not be subjected to your 4am drunk karaoke sessions. Or wake up to you moaning in the kitchen because of food you’ve made.” You shrug, biting into your pizza slice. “Plus you bring too many people home with you and I enjoy my sleep.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He shrugs, throwing the crust of the pizza into the box and grabbing another slice. It’s blasphemous how he loves pineapple on pizza–no hate to pineapple on pizza lovers, if you didn’t have a deadly pineapple allergy you’re sure you would love it–but he hates the best part of a pizza. Which is by far the crust.

“Which part?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Bringing people home. I stopped doing that years ago, Bunny, keep up.” He rolls his eyes, biting into his pizza and groaning as if it’s the most delicious thing ever.

You cringe. “This is what I mean. Why do you make everything sound so sexual?”

He swallows, “Why do you take everything so sexual?” He fights back, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“You can’t answer my question by repeating my statement from earlier.”

You shake your head, grabbing his abandoned crust. “I take back everything I just said. This is the real reason as to why I can’t live with you.” You bite into it, smiling in delight.

“Cause’ I’m irresistible.” He winks.

“No, because you’re so annoying. I will never see a moment of peace.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing another perfectly edible crust into the box and grabbing another slice. “But you love me, right Bunny?”

You shake your head, swallowing and taking a swing from your beer. “Sadly, I do.”

Jungkook smiles, throwing you a thumbs up and a cheeky wink. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

After a moment you look around your empty apartment, remembering how everything was perfectly laid out. The tiny frames of pictures of you, your family and your friends that used to decorate your walls. The abstract art piece that was hung on the wall behind your couch. Taehyung had gifted it to you after he disappeared for a few weeks in a crazy burst of inspiration. He said the bright colors reminded him of you, because somehow you always made him feel a little brighter no matter what.

You recall the little figurines that were placed on your useless tv unit because in the seven years that you lived in this apartment you never once bought a tv. They were miscellaneous things that were as useless as the unit but they meant a lot to you. Each one was handpicked by you for a purpose. The rabbit you had bought at a Lunar New Year market years ago. The ceramic watercolor-esque jewelry dish, you had found at a flea market. It was home to your crystals and not your actual jewelry, with the exception of your dad’s class ring that you had borrowed and never gave back.

Everything felt empty, even your fridge. It used to be decorated with magnets from places you had visited over the years. It had to-do lists and many sticky notes with affirmations written in ink splattered handwriting.

The night you first moved into the apartment it was hell. It was your first time living alone and every little sound sent a wave of panic through you. You had to call Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook to sleep over because you wholeheartedly believed someone would break in. Eventually things got simpler and you made your spaces yours. You never thought you’d grow attached to such a place, but you spent many nights dancing with just your string lights on. Singing at the top of your lungs. And crying because you missed your parents and brother. It was your home and even though your lease was up soon. It felt strange to not renew it again.

It almost felt like you were leaving a piece of yourself behind. A piece you never knew you had discovered until now.

“Bunny, don’t cry.” Jungkook coos beside you. The pizza is long forgotten, the box thrown haphazardly to the side as he brings you into his arms. “I know it’s hard but if we are being honest here you were outgrowing this place.”

You sniff, placing your head on top of his shoulder. “I would’ve made more room.”

Jungkook chuckles, carding his hand down your back, sending shivers up your spine. “You would’ve become a crazy hoarder. There was barely any space with all the shit you had.”

“That’s mean.” You shove him lightly. After a while of silence you speak up again. “This was my home Jungkook. I knew that I was eventually going to move out but I thought it would be because I was getting married.”

“You are getting married.” He deadpans, making you shove him even harder. He laughs.

“This doesn’t count, you know it’s not real.”

Jungkook waves you off, cradling his stomach as he bends over laughing, making you roll your eyes. “I was just trying to lighten up the mood. You know you’re always welcome at my place.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close again. “And I know things are rocky between you tweedle dee and tweedle dum. But Jimin and Taehyung will always have your back too.”

You sigh at the mention of Jimin’s name. It’s been two weeks since you last spoke to him and Taehyung. They have been ignoring your calls and texts. You’ve even thought about emailing them, but you’re well aware that neither of them have opened up their emails since college. You just hope that one day–soon–they’ll let you explain everything to them.

“I really hope so, Kookie.

Namjoon has been pacing in his living room since he woke up at four in the morning. He’s only had about four hours of sleep since he spent his entire afternoon and night clearing out his guest bedroom. It used to be his study, but he never once used it to do his work. The creaky old desk he got at a vintage shop a couple years ago was more of a showpiece. He had no issue parting ways with it. That was the easy part then came the bookshelf he once thought of using as a way to display his favorite artist books. But his research kept him occupied and he never once got around to it.

Parting ways with his books was something he never once thought he would have difficulty with. He made three piles; keep, maybe keep, give away. Everytime he put a book in the give away pile he would move it to the maybe pile and eventually the keep pile. It went on like this until midnight when he decided to abandon the task and go to sleep. He didn’t expect his thoughts to wake him up at four in the morning. They were racing like they had some sort of urgency. And now he was wide awake in his living room with the same three piles, one overflowing more than the others.

If he had more space in his book shelves in the living room he would have no problem, but those shelves were also ones he needed to sort out. Not to mention the huge stack of to be read books occupying the space between his couch and favorite chair.

He doesn’t know how he let things get so out of hand. Though, everything seemed like a mess in his brain. Especially at this time at night. He knows if anything changed about where things were placed he would have a mental breakdown trying to look for something.

It's how things worked in his brain. It’s also probably the reason why he was unable to sleep. Now, because of his wild idea to have you move in with him. He knows things will change around his house. Apart from his vast collection of art, books and his plants, everything else in his apartment lacked any soul and emotion. He used to love coming home when he first moved in years ago, but slowly the light started to get sucked out of his place.

Subconsciously he knows that’s why he asked you to move in with him in the first place. It wasn’t his mom visiting unexpectedly or that carpooling to work would save him gas and his carbon footprint. It was because he missed coming home to something that had life.

That’s something he will never get himself to admit. Not outloud and especially not to himself. And now you’re set to arrive in fifteen minutes. He still hasn’t finished sorting out his books or done a very good job at pushing away that agonizing thought or the excitement and nerves. He’s been keeping himself occupied for hours but all he has done is wonder.

What do you look like when you go to sleep?

What do you look like when you wake up?

Do you still sleep with numerous stuffed animals?

Will you secretly place your little trinkets around his home without him noticing?

Do you eat breakfast or just have coffee?

Will you like having him around?

They’ve been moving so fast that he can’t grasp onto one. The second he brushes one off another one comes to the surface and it’s driving him insane. Sure, he doesn’t feel anything for you. Not then and certainly not now, but he is looking forward to getting to know you better. What makes you laugh and what makes you tick? Are you a stay at home person on the weekend? Or do you go out with your friends to catch up? Do you bring work home like he does? Or do you leave it all in the office and relax for the rest of the evening?

Again, these are thoughts he will never let himself admit out loud, but he has them and he just hopes they go away the second you ring his doorbell.

As if on cue, the chime brings him out of his daze. He puts down the current book he was holding–The Secret History by Donna Tartt. It’s the book you gave him for his birthday back then. You had read it about five times before giving it to him saying he would “absolutely love it.” Since then he’s read it numerous times. The paperback is fading a little bit; he's tried to get rid of it for years but for some reason he can never seem to get himself to do so.

He puts it in the keep pile and stands up. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his black cotton shorts, as he makes his way to the front door. He’s already had five cups of coffee but suddenly he feels the fatigue wash over him as soon as he puts his hand on his doorknob.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and opens the door, revealing a very casual looking you. You’re wearing gray sweatpants, a black tank top with a white knitted cover up. Jungkook and his signature black on black outfit stands by your side.

This is the moment he realizes that a new chapter of his book is about to commence.

Whoever told Namjoon that living on the top floor of the highest building in the world–note exaggeration–should be held responsible for the back ache you’re surely going to be dealing with at night.

It’s taken about ten trips for you, Jungkook, Namjoon and the movers to get all of your stuff inside of Namjoon’s home. It also doesn’t help that the owner of the very bland looking home keeps barking orders to not scratch the floors and watch for the art hanging on his walls. Understandable, but he could at least be a bit nicer. After all it’s his fault you’re in this mess in the first place.

“How can someone have so much shit?” Namjoon seethes as he places your last box in his living room. It’s not even an organized mess anymore. It’s downright a mess and he is close to losing it.

Jungkook laughs, taking a well deserved break on his couch, feet on top of his black coffee table. “You should’ve seen all the shit she didn’t keep.” He says, stretching his arms up and overhead. “This isn’t even half of it. You should be thanking me for convincing her to give away all the shit she didn’t need or use and she still kept some of it.”

“Hey,” you give Jungkook a pointed stare. “Everything has its purpose, sooner or later I was going to use them.”

“You didn’t need fifty different mugs. You literally only ever used the same five. And you didn’t need all those little ceramic figurines that absolutely served no purpose.” Jungkook argues, crossing his arms in front of him. He hasn’t slept and he has you to thank because all you did during the night while you stayed at his house was pace back and forth and clean his already clean apartment.

He understands that you were nervous but you could’ve been a little quieter or you could’ve let him sleep. Instead, you woke him up to keep you company while you rambled on and on and on about how this was a horrible idea. But what was he supposed to say? Everything he wanted to tell you, he had already said. In order to avoid sounding like a broken record he just listened to you rant while moving in and out of consciousness.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring fifty mugs to my house.” Namjoon says, scrunching his eyebrows and putting his hands on his hips. You sit on the floor in front of a box labeled kitchen and open it up.

“No, just twenty five of them.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. This was already starting out on a bad note. He only has one mug for his coffee and it’s been very useful since he’s moved in. He forgets that even though he’s a minimalist in some ways. You’re a maximist. Your bedroom back home was proof enough.

Your desk was always filled with crap and numerous journals. Your walls had different kinds of posters and tiny strips of pictures you had taken with your friends on a night out in whatever photobooth you could find. He doesn’t want to even get into the stuffed animals or the twenty different pillows you kept on your bed when you only slept with one.

He supposes some things just never change.

“We don’t need twenty five different mugs, or–” He looks into the box he had set on the kitchen counter and sighs, “--six different pans.” He brings out a white and purple one and another one the same color just slightly bigger. Your colorful aura is already clashing with his monochrome one. He has no idea if they will mix well.

“Believe me, you say that now, but I can guarantee you that one day you’re going to be searching for a specific pan while cooking and you’re going to thank me for keeping these.” The words spill out of your mouth with confidence and he can’t help but roll his eyes. Out of spite he will do everything in his power to make sure that day never comes.

Jungkook stands up and claps his hands in front of him. “Alright idiots, I have a date in like two hours, so we either get your bed built Bunny or you sleep on this lovely couch.” He interrupts in pointing to Namjoon’s not so comfy looking couch.

You stand up, trying to keep your mouth from going agape, this was certainly a huge surprise. Jungkook simply didn’t date. “With who?” You walk to him with your hands on your hips. Namjoon and your mugs have been completely forgotten.

“With my bed.” He winks and you groan. You knew it was too good to be true. “Now, come on, I don't understand why you picked the most complicated bed frame to build. There are more screws than anything I’ve ever gotten from IKEA and as simple as they try to make the instructions it still takes me five hours to build one shelf.” He walks past you and into the hallway leading up to rooms.

“They are easy to understand, you're just an idiot.” Namjoon speaks up, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. This is how things were back then, clowning on Jungkook together. They were simple before feelings were involved, and you only wonder that if you kept your mouth shut would things still be that way.

Except you know that deep down they wouldn’t because neither of you would be in this situation. You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever the answer to that is, you don’t want to find out, even more so now.

You ignore Namjoon’s comment and follow in Jungkook’s footsteps. The last thing you want is for him to break your beloved bedframe and you end up on Namjoon’s couch until you can afford to buy a new one. It’s this moment in particular that you miss Taehyung and Jimin the most. (Though, since falling out everything made you miss them.) It took them a full hour to assemble it together with minimal complaints. You know it would’ve taken them nothing to take it apart, but now you will never know.

Jungkook stayed true to his word and left one hour later than when he said he would. It took him and Namjoon fighting a couple of times for your bed frame to finally be complete. And during his final hour before he left on his date. He helped you move the rest of your furniture into the room, including your precious desk, armchair and the numerous boxes of clothes books and decorations you had packed.

During this time, Namjoon had barely spoken to you, except for the occasional “pass me the (insert name of tool,)” he directed towards you. Then he disappeared into the kitchen while you instructed Jungkook on where to place your belongings. Now, the filter was gone and you were left alone in a hollowed out house with its equally hollowed out owner.

You were keeping yourself occupied with hanging up your clothes when you heard a crash followed by a curse of pain coming from the kitchen. On instinct you ran out to find Namjoon holding his foot, mumbling profanities.

You swallow, placing your hands inside the pocket of your sweatpants. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon looks up, eyes full of water as he quickly releases his foot and clears his throat. “Umm, yeah, I just dropped one of your pots on my foot.” He brushes off, proceeding to pick up the pot Jungkook claims looks like a toy and places it on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind that I started to unpack the kitchen stuff. All the boxes were kind of driving me a little crazy.” He scratches the back of his neck, then points to the empty stack of boxes by the couch.

You shake your head. “Just show me where everything is so I don’t go crazy looking for shit tomorrow morning.” You say, walking towards the kitchen and stopping once you get to the other side of the counter.

He nods, and proceeds to move around. “Mugs and cups go here.” He opens the cabinet above the stove, showing you how neatly he arranged your colorful array of mugs by color and size. “The plates are here.” He moves over one cabinet and opens it, revealing three wooden racks full of your plates and his plates. “And I put the bowls up there. I know it's hard to reach but we can get a step stool or something.” He shrugs and then moves around the counter standing beside you. “You didn’t have a lot of utensils but the ones I found I put in here.” He opens up a drawer, and as expected everything was organized as neatly as possible in one of those kitchen drawer organizers. Forks, spoons, knives and chopsticks had their own compartment. You took note as you didn’t want to mess anything up.

If you were going to be living with him until further notice. Stepping on his toes and messing with his organization was something you didn’t intend on doing.

“I was just getting started on putting the pots and pans away, also I don’t know where to put your knife set since I already have one.” He says pointing to the box containing your pastel colored set of knives. Maybe you should’ve listened to Jungkook when he said you actually didn’t need them. They were just too cute to let go.

“That’s fine.” You wave your hand, discreetly taking two steps away from him. “Do you want any help?”

Namjoon pauses for a moment after he closes the drawer. He looks at the marble countertop in front of him in thought and then you. His gaze is hardened and unreadable. A look you’ve come to familiarize yourself with in the past few days that you’ve had to spend with him. It’s one he uses when the two of you are alone. You won’t lie, it annoys you a little.

“No, that’s okay. I was just going to put them in the cabinet next to the sink.” He speaks up before rounding the corner and standing in his original spot. You nod and take a step back.

“I guess I’ll be in my room unpacking. Don’t continue dropping things on your foot.” Your attempt at a joke goes ignored as he gives you a deadpan look before focusing his attention on the pot in front of him.

It’s strange how he hasn’t continued to complain about you having so much stuff. Or how he hasn’t declined anything you brought with you. He’s simply accepted it and is finding space for it. The complete opposite of what you imagined he would do. Once again he’s rendered you speechless and you have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ll try not to.”

It’s around two in the morning when you finally leave your new room. Namjoon’s living room–well you suppose it is now your living room too–is vacant. You let out a sigh of relief. The only reason why you left your room in the first place was because your stomach was growling and you couldn’t sleep.

You aren’t sure if Namjoon is asleep or if he’s in his room avoiding you all together. Could he really be just as childish as you? You want to believe the answer to that question is a big fat yes. But then again that’s only because you want to make yourself feel like you're not the only coward now living in this house.

Still, he didn’t come seeking you after he briefly showed you around the kitchen. So, maybe you aren’t the only one who just doesn’t know what to say to the other person. How do you simply start a conversation without bringing up your past together?

There are so many things left unsaid. So many things that happened that night that have haunted you for years. So many things that broke down your character as everything unfolded right before your eyes. A part of you blames him for what ended up happening. Though, that’s only because it was easier to blame him than to blame yourself.

Even if your therapist and Jimin and Jungkook told you that nothing was your fault. It still felt like it was, especially because you only wanted to piss off Namjoon more than you already had. Maybe then he would finally have a reason to hate you, but again, he’s never really known what happened apart from your fight.

Nor, do you think you can tell him. In fear that he would look at you differently and put the blame on you. Just like you have done for years.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Namjoon’s voice sounds from behind you, making you jump. You turn around meeting his piercing eyes as he makes his way into his kitchen.

“Nope, it’s a new space so everything feels weird.” You shrug, taking a seat on one of the island stools. “And I’m hungry.” You add, thinking it will somehow help your already valid reason.

Namjoon nods before opening his fridge. “I ordered chicken earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted some or wanted me to bother you, but I saved you some.” He takes out the box and places it on the counter, moving around expertly before taking out one of your pans. See you knew they would come in handy. “I’ll heat it up for you.” He places it on the stove and turns the dial to a medium heat.

Your eyes grow wide as you start to get up. “You don’t have to, I can do it myself.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to face you, for you to know he’s rolled his eyes at your comment. “I don’t, but it gives me something to do. I’m not tired.” He shrugs, hovering his hand over the middle of the pan, to check if it was hot. Once he deems it hot enough he reaches over and grabs the leftover box of the chicken, dumping the sweet and sour delights into the pan.

You choose not to reply to him and instead look around. There were only a few boxes left for you to unpack, most of them being miscellaneous decoration pieces you had collected over the years. You know that as much as Namjoon didn’t mind having your kitchen ware mingle with his. You knew he wasn’t going to let you mess around with his minimalist aesthetic. Maybe you would just have to slowly find space for them. But maybe it was best that you didn’t. A couple of days ago he made it pretty clear that you weren’t something permanent in his life. So, why pretend like you were?

“Mom wanted us to go to brunch tomorrow, but I told her no. I figured you wanted to finish settling down before work on Monday.” Namjoon speaks up over the sizzling sound of the chicken.

Your head snaps to face him. “You didn’t have to do that, I could’ve finished unpacking over the week.”

Namjoon looks over at you and shakes his head. Before you can snap at him for whatever reason he speaks up. “You told me to keep in mind that you are your own person and that I can’t keep making decisions for you, and when I consider how you may feel about living things unfinished you tell me that I could’ve done the opposite of what you asked.” He reaches over and turns off the knob and turns to face you. “I don’t understand you.”

The audacity he has to spring up a decision he made like it was for your betterment is impalpable. Somehow him being somewhat considerate and listening to you, but at the same time not listening to you makes you want to scream. Instead, you close your eyes, feeling your appetite run away from you. “Yet, you just did exactly that.”

Namjoon tilts his head in confusion, taking the pan off the stove and bringing it over to where you’re sitting. “How? I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I told her no because I knew you would be tired after a whole day of moving.” He places down a heat mat and puts the pan over it.

You shake your head in disbelief. “No, you decided for me. You didn’t tell me your mother invited us over for brunch and instead told her we couldn’t go because I was going to be too tired when you don’t even know that.” You eye him as he takes out a pair of chopsticks. He stops once the words you’ve said sink in and glares at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do? I agreed to meet you in the middle, I even agreed to your ridiculous list of demands and when I do, you say that that’s not what you wanted.” He places the chopsticks in front of you and scoffs.

You cross your arms in front of you. “But you didn’t meet me in the middle. Meeting me in the middle would be telling me that your mom invited us over and then hearing what I had to say about it. But instead you decided for me, you’re still not understanding.”

Namjoon groans, running a frustrated hand through his already messy bedhead. “Then please spell it out for me because I’m trying but you always have to fucking complicate things.”

“I’m not the one complicating things here. It’s simple, you only have to tell me things and then I’ll decide what I want or don’t want.”

Namjoon signs leaning his forearms on his marble counter, his arm veins popping out as he grips edge trying to regulate his anger. “This is exactly why?”

“Why what?” You push yourself off the chair, leaving your untouched chicken as you push in the stool.

“Why I would never marry you. You look too much into things and when someone calls you out on it you blame them. You’re just too difficult to deal with.” He says through clenched teeth.

You dig your nails into the palms of your hand. He has the nerve to throw one of your biggest insecurities back at you. It’s the reason why all of your past serious relationships have ended. Apart from the fact that they’ve always gotten bored and found someone new. It’s also the reason why your childhood best friends aren’t talking to you. You’re too much to deal with. So, why are you here in the first place?

“Then why did you come up with this whole elaborate plan?” Your voice is just above a whisper as you angrily keep yourself as composed as possible.

Namjoon pushes himself off the counter and stalks over to you. “I already told you because it’s not permanent. Trust me if my father had more time you wouldn’t be standing here.” He spits out and stops in front of you. “You’re not someone worthy of spending a life with.”

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat as you blink back tears. This shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. Especially because it’s something he’s hinted at since he first proposed the plan to you. But for some reason it does, especially his last comment. He knows that one of your biggest dreams is to get married and start a family. He also knows that all your previous partners have left you for the same reason. And he also knows that it will hurt you if he keeps repeating it. Almost as if he believes that you don’t understand how serious he is about keeping you as a temporary placement in his life.

Back then you would’ve yelled and cried. Yet, that girl was broken down and replaced as quickly as it took him to leave you and all the memories you shared together behind. So, you stand your ground, burning holes into his dragon like eyes and say, “Trust me when I say that you’re the person I hate the most in this world. That I might be difficult but you’re impossible. Your head is so big that you can’t see that the reason why you can’t seem to keep anyone around is because you push them away thinking you’re better than everyone else. It’s the reason why you might keep the money from your dad’s will but also the reason why you will end up alone.”

When you finish you can tell he’s taken your words to heart, that much you know from the fire burning behind his perfect brown eyes. Instead of responding he does the one thing you never expected him to do.

He kisses you.

a/n: lol I’m sorry.

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