#Let's be real he's still bitter they know each other's identities

[mlincorrectquotes]

Chat Noir (bitterly looking at Rena Rouge and Carapace): Please. They think they’re so great just ‘cause they know each other’s allergies? You know what I’m allergic to?

Ladybug: Yup. Them?

Chat Noir: Totally.

Chat Noir: And also bees. You should know that, if I got stung by a bee, I could die.

#Let's be real he's still bitter they know each other's identities #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Adrien the Mess #Miraculous #Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Lawbreaker #Source: Brooklyn Nine-Nine

[jokers-bat]

BatJokes Headcanons by Series:

Harley Quinn Show:

(This is my favorite Joker quote from this show! 😆)

- Complicated, long history. On again, off again boyfriends.

- Not together but still have feelings for each other.

- Bruce was legitimately happy for Joker having a new life and job…But he missed the old Joker too.

- Joker knows Batman/Bruce is a little crazy himself but he’s still shocked whenever he does something reckless and impulsive.

- They aren’t good for each other and they know it. Like they know each other’s vulnerable sides and their demons but neither are equipped to help them get better (with Joker not wanting to get better and Bruce turning to self-destruction rather than real help).

2004 Batman

- Night and day. Bruce is stability, peace, hope, and warmth while Joker is chaos, hate, destruction, and wacky.

- It’s rare, but there is a tenderness between them. Meeting on the roof at night, watching the sunrise, speaking freely and openly. Brief moments of peace and something more than just being enemies.

- Never said out loud, but Batman will come to save him if Joker was in danger. Similarly, Joker would protect Batman and his identity if he knew he was in trouble.

- ‘I love you’ is never said but they feel it.

Under The Red Hood

- Not good but ify. Depends on situation and/or circumstances (following canon versus fan fiction).

- They have a history together. Were a couple at one point but it’s complicated.

- All the ‘what could have been love songs’ mixed with the ‘not over you’ songs.

- Bruce is bitter, gloomy, and full of regret while Joker is crazy, out of control, and evil but both are violent and hate themselves more than anything else.

- Whatever is left of Joker’s former self deeply resents Batman for accidentally creating him but he’ll never show it. Bruce, meanwhile, wishes he could have known him before he became the Joker.

- If they were to get back together, it would require a decade’s worth of therapy.

- In an alternative universe where Batman and Joker were together and Joker continued to be a criminal (though not as deadly) and Jason still became the Red Hood, the bay family would be one heck of a complicated, dysfunctional, and kind of toxic family.

Lego Batman

- They got married and adopted Dick, the end!

- Fun dads. Bruce is the kickass, awesome dad with super cool cars and gadgets while Joker is the crazy and wild dad who knows all the best jokes and pranks.

- Pure wholesome love story. Just let it be!

- Joker was never really a criminal. Just a prankster who ultimately wanted to go out with Batman but didn’t know how to ask so he annoyed him instead. 😆

- Found family that makes each other better people!

- Very affectionate. Hand holding, fixing each other’s hair, hugs and kisses, Everyday is Valentine’s Day for them!

#batjokes #joker #batman #batman x joker #dc joker #the batman 2004 #joker 2004 #2004 batman #under the red hood #dc batman #lego batjokes #lego batman #lego joker

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 7

Part 6 / AO3 Link

Steve didn’t answer for a couple of days. He had to think on Eddie’s question. What did he want the alpha to be for him and his pup? Steve wished the answer could’ve been easy. Either (a) he wanted someone casual to fool around with or (b) a committed alpha to help him raise his child. Whatever they had right now was way more than just casual. Steve had done plenty of one night stands to attest to that.

Eddie was more than just a quick hook up. They actually talked to each other. But at the same time, Steve didn’t know if he was ready to dive headfirst into a relationship again. It wasn’t just about what he wanted but also about what Shawn needed. Steve knew Eddie was nothing like Billy, not even a little bit. But Billy wasn’t even like himself half the time. And things just got worse as their relationship progressed. What if Eddie changed too?

He thought about how he and Shawn were doing just fine with only the two of them. Three if you counted Robin and of course Steve did. They didn’t need anyone else in the picture. They didn’t need Eddie.

But Steve wanted him. So, so badly. And Robin was always telling him not to get lost in his identity as a dad. Still, thinking about Billy was like being blocked from imagining a happy ending with someone new. 

Looking back on it, his and Billy’s first meeting was like a preview of things to come. When they met during senior year, Billy had cornered him against a locker, knocked their shoulders together, and by the end of the week they were fucking in the back of his Camarro. It had been intense. Everything with Billy was. But he hadn’t been built for a relationship. Not a real one. Not one where they communicated and tried to better themselves.

Steve knew about Billy’s problems at home. But he had foolishly thought that once they graduated and moved away from their parents, Billy would have space to change. He never did. Never tried. He’d apologize for saying hurtful things, for pushing Steve around, or forgetting things. It was all just words.

He’d been grateful when the pregnancy had Billy soften up just a bit. It gave him hope that this would be where things turned around. Billy would be around more, finally bond with him, and be the alpha Steve knew he could be for both his mate and future pup. That hope was short-lived in the long run. Steve wanted a happy family and it was sad to say, but Billy didn’t know how to be happy. And eventually, Steve realized he couldn’t help him the way he needed.

The first time they fought in front of Shawn, sweet, innocent, baby Shawn, Steve knew this wouldn’t last. Hearing his pup cry because his parents were viciously yelling at each other, everything clicked for Steve. What he said next, he never would have said when they were eighteen. But it was true then and it was true now.

“You’re just like your father!”

It was a few more years of this horrible song and dance that they did when the last straw broke the camel’s back. Shawn was four now and Steve hated that he knew to hide up in his room whenever Billy came home smelling bitter. It reminded him too much of his own childhood and Billy’s too. They hadn’t broken the cycle, they just continued it. 

One night during dinner it started and even though Steve told Shawn to go up to his room, Shawn only walked as far as outside the kitchen. When the fighting ramped up, he stood between them, trying to push Billy away with his tiny arms.

“Leave him alone! You’re always mean to Daddy! Why can’t you be nice?!”, Shawn cried at the top of his lungs, eyes wet with tears.

That made Billy pause. He was still for a long time. Then he grabbed his keys and walked out the door. Maybe Billy went through a revelation. Steve wasn’t sure. But Billy had gotten too close in hurting his baby. Steve couldn’t let him near anymore. Thankfully, Billy didn’t put up too much of a fight for once. He had a friend come by and get their things. And the one saving grace was that since they weren’t mated, no paperwork had to be filled out for divorce or custody.

All things considered, it was the cleanest break Steve could have asked for. And Shawn starting kindergarten was perfect timing to distract him from all of that. They’d had two years of bliss. Was it really worth it to try with Eddie and risk all that?

He picked up Shawn from school, thinking he should talk to Eddie in person. But he saw the alpha talking with another parent and it just didn’t seem like the right time. Steve knew it was hard for him to switch from teacher mode to regular Steve. Discussing their relationship on school grounds wasn’t appropriate.

He had half his mind on when to speak to Eddie and the other half on Shawn’s story of the day. Apparently Yasmin told Mindy she was annoying and they weren’t friends anymore. A big story.

“Sounds like the class dynamics are changing”, Steve said. 

“No, they played together during recess”, Shawn said. “Mr. Munson made them both apologize.”

“Wait, why did Mindy need to apologize?”

“She called Yasmin a dummy crybaby.”

It was times like these that Steve was glad he taught middle school. It wasn’t always peachy keen but at least he didn’t have to take care of the emotional roller coaster that was teaching small children. They got home and Steve couldn’t put it off any longer. He texted Eddie and asked if he was free tomorrow.

Eddie said that he was and Steve planted the seed of Shawn going to the neighborhood’s playground after school tomorrow. Shawn did, walking the two blocks over from their house to play after a very lengthy talk about stranger danger. Shawn knew all about it, but especially knew not to go with anyone who said they were from his sire’s family either. Shawn vaguely recalled having an aunt on that side of his family, but that was it.

While Shawn was breaking his monkey bar record, he was none the wiser to his teacher driving up to his house. Steve welcomed Eddie inside and they got settled in on the couch.

“So, you thought about my question?”, Eddie broke the ice.

Steve nodded. “I did.”

Eddie chewed on his lip as he waited for Steve to continue, but the other man just sat there, looking out into the distance through the window. Eddie knew the playground was in that direction. Knew he was thinking about Shawn. And while he’d never pressure him into anything, the suspense was killing him.

“And?”, he pressed a little.

Steve’s head whipped toward him. “And…I need you to know that any misgivings I had weren’t about you but about, well, you know my past.”

Eddie nodded. He reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand, then brought it to his lips. “I’d never treat you like that. You or Shawn.”

“I know. You’re not a risk, Eddie.” Steve wouldn’t be gambling with him. What you saw was what you got. “I wanna be yours. And I want you to be mine.”

“That can be arranged”, Eddie smiled, then leaned in to scent Steve. It was like a stronger version of what Shawn’s scent was. It was straight from the source and he loved it. He felt Steve stroke his hair which pulled a rumble from him.

Steve bared more of his neck as Eddie’s scenting turned to chaste pecks up and down the column of his throat. Then to wet, open mouthed kisses that left Steve’s knees feeling weak. His fingers tightened a little in Eddie’s hair and pulled him closer as he fell back on the couch. But then Steve’s parenting ears heard laughing coming up the sidewalk and then feet bounding to the door and he quickly pushed Eddie away and popped his collar to hide at least some of the marks that were sure to be there.

“Dad! Guess what! I did the monkey bars in like ten seconds!”

“That’s wonderful”, Steve praised as Shawn came deeper into the house.

Shawn’s energy paused when he saw his teacher sitting on the couch with his dad. “Am I…in trouble…?”

Eddie was about to immediately assuage his fears and say no, but Steve spoke up first.

“That depends. Is there anything you wanna tell me before Mr. Munson does?”

Shawn looked between the two of them, clearly considering his options. “I gave Brian some of my lunch but he really, really wanted to try it and he’s my friend.”

“Well, you know we’re not supposed to share without the teacher knowing”, Steve said. “Brian could have an allergy.”

“Also, Brian’s mom packs him a three course meal for lunch everyday”, Eddie added. “That kid doesn’t need bites off your plate.”

“Okay. So I’m not in trouble?”

“No, in fact, Mr. Munson and I have something to tell you.”

Eddie hoped his smile looked endearing and not at all creepy because he knew that would be his first thought if a teacher dated one of his parents. Shawn was probably going to have his world rocked and Eddie hoped him being a kind of cool teacher would soften the blow just a bit.

“.....You’re dating Mr. Munson? Does this mean no more homework?”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “If anything, it could mean more homework because he’ll be around you more often.”

Shawn’s jaw dropped. “What!?”

“Lucky for you, I’m not that cruel”, Eddie beamed. “And when I’m off duty, you can just call me Mr. Eddie.” 

Shawn’s face scrunched up for a moment and Steve would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking. Was he thinking of Billy? Was he trying to imagine Eddie as a father figure? Was he wondering if Steve loved him less. 

“Does this mean I get extra recess?”

“Only if you can get me some of your dad’s homemade cookies”, Eddie said in a conspiratorial tone.

Steve rolled his eyes. Maybe he was worried for nothing. Maybe for once, everything would be fine. He had to hope, right?

Part 8

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog @hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

[rigberts]

thinking about how insane the demon slayer art style and character design is. like, the the nose, mouth, and face shapes of everyone in the main cast are virtually identical regardless of gender, and yet every single character has a very distinct personality at first glance. And unlike other popular anime, it isn't their rainbow hair colors or painstakingly customized uniforms that help the audience tell them apart (though I do love their outfits).

It's almost entirely their eyes.

The best example of this is probably shinobu. Her eyes are enormous, round, and purple, things associated with femininity. However, they have no pupil or sclera and have a matte gradient effect. The gradient effect gives an appearance similar to an insect's compound eyes, giving a nod to her abilities and character aesthetic, but more importantly, the lack of reflected light makes her eyes look completely dead. This tells you everything you need to know about shinobu's character. She's beautiful and graceful in her appearance and mannerisms, but she's also lost the most important thing in her life, is capable of great cruelty towards her enemies, takes a sadistic delight in their pain, and her cheerful and benevolent persona is a facade. Basically, by just drawing a couple of carefully shaded circles, the artist lets you know that even if this character acts lively and upbeat, that fact that there is no light behind her eyes shows that it is false.

This is thrown into even greater contrast when a flashback is shown of kanae, shinobus late sister, who we know that shinobu seeks to imitate with her faux cheerfulness. Though their faces are identical, their eyes couldn't be more different. Where shinobus eyes are matte and reflect no light, kanaes are glossy and have three enormous highlights in each eye, making her look literally starry eyed, and that's reflected in her personality. Kanae is shown to kind, overly idealistic, and optimistic to the point of being airheaded: the exact opposite of shinobu, who is bitter, cunning, and capable of great cruelty.

Anyway demon slayer really makes the most of visual storytelling in even its smaller details.

Some other highlights in character design:

rengoku's constantly wide eyes with their rings of contrasting color that almost resemble an optical illusion perfectly convey everything about his most important character trait, his unrelenting intensity. Additionally, depending on context, his wide-eyed appearance can either be played for laughs or deeply unnerving, depending on whether his neverending enthusiasm is being directed towards complimenting tasty food or carving up his enemies with a smile.

Obanai has heterochromia identical to that of a cat, and let's be real, his personality is pretty cat-like. He's proud, disdainful, and judgemental of others, but he is also full of unconditional love for Mitsuri, even if he usually only shows it by quietly enjoying her company. Plus, it's also revealed that the reason obanai fell in love with mitsuri is because she is a genuine person who doesn't push his boundaries, giving him someone he can truly be comfortable around. Anyone who's interacted with a cranky stray cat before can tell you how familiar that sounds.

Nezuko has three separate sets of eyes throughout the series. As a human, her pupils are pink with complicated black shading and with a white highlight, once again hinting at her innocence. As a demon she usually has pink eyes with a circular highlight, but all the shading and therefore all the "depth" is gone. Since she doesn't remember that her family was killed and has somewhat regressed to a childlike state, nezuko still has her innocence (as shown by the highlight) but has lost her complexity that made her fully human. When she becomes enraged, her pupils become dark and slitted and her irises lose their reflective sheen, showing that not only is she monstrous, she has temporarily regained the capacity for anger and other dark emotions, and lost the ignorance/innocence that keeps her monstrous instincts at bay.

Muichiro has no memory of anything but the last three months of his life, and likewise, his eyes are foggy and dull

In the case of aoi, the square, blocky shape of her pupil implies a lot about her character: the fact that she's somewhat ordinary and a reliable, steady ally, even if she can be a little stiff.

I'm fairly certain that tanjirous red eyes were supposed to have narrative importance and signal that he is a descendant of yoriichi until it was decided at some point that yoriichi had no children and tanjirou was a descendant of a friend of yoriichi instead (either that or the reveal was planned from the beginning and the eye color was a red herring), but that's beside the point. Tanjirous eyes are red with dark shading, and do not have a highlight, though they do have a white pupil. This combination represents tanjirous emotional maturity, the combination of negativity and positivity. Unlike shinobu, who has no light in her eyes and is controlled by her resentment, and kanae, who has nothing but light in her eyes and was idealistic to the point of foolishness, tanjirou has both. Yes, he has suffered, he lost almost his entire family, even after he dedicated his entire self to caring for them after his father's death. However, tanjirou is still a fundamentally compassionate and hopeful person. No, Tanjirou is far from the first shonen protagonist who is kind and a genuinely good person (Luffy, Naruto, and Goku come to mind), he is one of the more emotionally intelligent ones. Tanjirou empathizes with the demons and recognizes the suffering that made them into monsters, but at the end of the day, he still kills them. There is no talk no jutsu, there is no transformation of enemies into allies, and there is no sparing of enemies out of respect for their fighting prowess. Though Tanjirou recognizes that demons are tragic and pitiful, he also knows that they are creatures that survive only on the slaughter of innocents. This isn't to say that stories about redemption or forgiveness or once-feared villains turning into the protagonists wacky neighbor are inherently bad, far from it. But for the story that demon slayer is, tanjirou is the perfect fit. And you can tell, just by looking in his eyes.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #tanjirou kamado #nezuko kamado #iguro obanai #rengoku kyojuro #muichiro tokito #shinobu kocho #kanae kocho #aoi kanzaki

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, what DO you love and like so much about Dostoevsky's work? I don't think you've ever talked about that. Please, I want to know !!!

^o^

(christianity mention jump scare below proceed with caution)

i thought this would be an easy to answer but figuring out how to put my feelings into words proved difficult .

the beginning is always a good place to start, so let's go with that. by chance, i happened upon this video on youtube and gave it a watch. about halfway in i decided i had to read notes from underground for myself. i struggled to understand what the narrator was trying to get across. the unique writing style, where the reader is addressed directly, as if in challenge, helped me preserve.

i think part of what makes his work special to me is his depiction of people. and they really do feel like people more than characters, even if some of their characteristics are unique to the era dostoevsky wrote in. everything else about them transcends time. i can see myself in some of them. whether it be the titular idiot, prince myshkin in his naivety; alyosha, who goes from devout to doubting; and ivan, whose bitterness toward religion masks his disappointment at the state of the world. 

that's why the brothers karamazov touched me in particular. for some context, i grew up in a christian household and was heavily involved in the church (american northeast white baptist strand of church). around when i was 11 or so, the introduction of left-wing politics through social media had me undergo a looooong identity crisis. these new ideas felt at odds with what i'd spent my entire life believing. what i grappled with the most relates to ivan's anecdote, the grand inquisitor, where the goodness of god is called into question. the bitterness, the disappointment from crushed expectations, all those sensations resonated strongly with me. reading it as an adult who (supposedly) 'healed' from that time period in my life was like opening pandora's box. i'd never seen my thoughts and struggles so accurately described, or treated with more than a 'his ways are higher than our ways' type platitude. i stuffed these concerns of mine away because they only ever served to make me feel worse.

i won't delve deep into the Depressing Lore. the only reason i mention it is to stress how profound an impact the work had on me. throughout the remainder of TBK (and in most of dostoevsky's discography), the best and worst of humanity is shown. our hypocritical nature, capacity for evil; nothing is shied away from or made more palatable. and yet, throughout it all, our potential for good is shown too. whether it be in the little acts or monumental self-sacrifice. sometimes those acts are honored, or ‘worth it,’ sometimes they aren’t. it’s cheesy but whatever i’ll say it — choosing to love and serve others is my greatest joy. i don’t really need a definitive answer to those problems i struggled with. that’s the takeaway i’ve had from his work. it might not seem like a big deal, but not feeling guilty for having certain doubts or anxious over those doubts never fully being resolved was. very significant for me. and healing (for real this time). 

so that’s the sentimental perspective GJSDLKFJS from my writer’s perspective, i can only describe him as brilliant. his grasp on the human psyche is incredible. he can accurately describe so many emotions, worldviews, and give the context necessary for each one to feel organic and real. it’s vivid, too, in a way i can’t properly get across. everyone’s unfiltered and messy. characters contradict themselves in the same sentence. they’ll murmur, go off on tangents, tell stories, misquote the bible (or many other significant works), and just be overall disasters. aka how people actually are. 

the man’s also funny as hell. the protagonist from crime and punishment has a mental breakdown spanning multiple pages over a sock. yes, there’s context, but that’s still the gist of things. then there’s the issue of the hedgehog in the idiot. hedgehog drama. 

ultimately, his work is so very human. there’s commentary on issues that are prevalent to this day, multiple centuries later. the topics he touches on tend to align with what i care about most. whether i agree or disagree with what i’m reading, there’s always something i glean from it. something meaningful that sits with me long after i close the book. i’ll mull over it and bother people in my vicinity until they mull over it too. no one is safe. whether it be a co-worker or my dad who drives noticeably faster to reach our destination and be free of my many questions.

i could keep going but this ended up being long enough GJSKDF i hope at least something here makes sense?>?? i apologize for the incoherent ramblings. it's what the dude does to me.

#dostoevsky fanclub #answered #Anonymous

[roz-ani]

Izzy deserved to hear that from Ed.

That's Izzy's family. It's Izzy whom the crew loves.

That was Izzy's arc, not Edward's.

Now, please, don't get me wrong. It is a part of Ed's growth. Still, the main focus has always been his relationship with Stede and his identity. You can absolutely dive into the captain's relationship with his crew, but you don't replace a character's arc with another one's, especially at the last minute.

I understand the symbolism of Blackbeard "dying" with Izzy. The gatekeeping, gaslighting, feeding the persona of the world's greatest and most merciless pirate staying in the past... I am also fully convinced that Blackbeard's right-hand man actually passing away to achieve that was unnecessary.

What this season did for Izzy was absolutely incredible. That man abandoned his ego and changed the way he perceived power, respect, loyalty, and support for and because of a group of people he despised at the beginning.

His main purpose has always been looking after any crew he was a part of. He had more contact with them than the captain himself, especially aboard the Revenge when Blackbeard was going through his mental breakdown. In the first season, we saw Izzy wouldn't be the best captain, but he did have the experience and eventually learned how to look after his subordinates. All because he finally experienced proper care himself.

He got his heart broken in more than one way, yet managed to find his people, his family. Izzy finally got to know what real appreciation looks like. He got it from the people he initially mistreated. The crew decided to look after Izzy because "he's their dick". They stopped fighting after seeing him at his lowest. They made him a new prosthesis out of the figurehead of all things, showing the audience how they see him - the crew's protector, the spirit of the ship.

At first, Izzy kept pushing them away. Not out of hatred for them, but for himself. Because healing is difficult, it hurts, it takes incredible strength and willpower to admit to yourself that your environment is harmful and that you might be the problem as well. Especially when leaving it seemingly deprives you of your identity or purpose in life. Besides that, come on, it's Izzy Hands. A man who wasn't heartless, but also not "soft", as he would have most likely put it himself. He was still rough around the edges and cynical. However, after all this time he finally allowed himself to let go and feel comfortable, so some of that bitterness disappeared over time. I still don't believe he was fully healed, but he was on the right path.

Despite changing his outlook on life, Izzy was still respected. He knew what mattered and what to do and say to make sure his crew's issues were properly resolved.

Now, Ed's apology. At first I felt like there didn't need to be any deep talk between the first mate and his captain, because they understood each other well enough. That's not what communication is about though. It's not about taking something or someone for granted. Especially is the conflict escalates to such extent. There should've been more to that. They should've both had a conversation about their relationship and what made them bad for each other. Most importantly, how they could fix that and heal together. If that would require them to part ways, so be it. At least they'd separate on good terms. Now we can only speculate.

I would say my biggest problem is not with Izzy Hands dying. It's about how he died. Although I doubt I'd support this decision in season 3, at least it wouldn't be so rushed. There was no proper build-up to it. Izzy and Richard, of all people, had a deep talk about understanding piracy, a concept that is a base for one's actions. This was probably the biggest red flag, which tragically appeared in the same episode Izzy died. The crew didn't thank him or bid him farewell. He wasn't properly mourned. He was buried in the ground.

"You should've expected that. Things were going too well. A mentor character always dies after regaining hope". I have two HUGE problems with that.

First of all: a mentor character? I guess? For two, maybe three episodes at best? Izzy did meet some mentor archetype points. He was Stede's mentor for a bit, I mentioned his experience and position as the first mate, but I wouldn't say that's his main purpose. The writers did, but we're going to talk about it in a second.

Second of all: this was many people's comfort show. Especially when it comes to the LGBTQ+ community. I myself have praised this show for its take on communication and found family portrayal. It was fun, light-hearted, safe.

I understand the need to tell your story, I truly do. I know that people don't have the right to tell someone how to create, because the audience, especially the more pushy members, can be very often self-centered and don't know what's planned for a show's future. Except that these days you really have to be careful with how you plan your story with the corporations holding all the power - that's why we need to support the strikes. You need to be prepared to disclose necessary information in a proper way if needed. You need to pay attention to what you're portraying.

Now, I also believe that media literacy is dead (exaggeration) and people really can't for example understand that stories develop over time, seasons, or chapters unless they're consuming a media piece that has already run its course. They do have the tendency to take things literally and not search for the context.

Still, in the postmodern era of creativity, you need to know you don't hold all the power, despite not owning people anything. Your audience can interpret things on their own. What you believe to have no power or significance can mean the world to your audience. Remember how difficult it was for people to believe this show actually has LGBTQ+ characters and a love story in it? Or how the creator admitted he was surprised by the scepticism? I don't. Not only because I started watching the show quite late, but also because I don't consider myself to be a part of this community. It didn't mean so much to me, because I currently focus on different aspects of the content I consume. However, I know how they perceive media and their products. I may not have the same experience, but I know where theirs comes from. And I know that this show was just different. TV series, books, etc. do not belong only to the creators nowadays. Yes, they are their products, but they are made for an audience that has the right to individually approach and criticise them. And even though overinterpretation is a thing, there is no one right answer to certain issues.

BUT THEN AGAIN: THE MONEY. Was it the budget? I honestly have no idea. Perhaps it was, because literally everything is dependent on it these days...

See, we could argue back and forth about the behind-the-scenes, but I don't think I have enough knowledge of that. I also don't want to get into the topic of disability, suicide, abuse, etc., because I am not the right person for it, even though some of those things are a part of my experience. There are people out there who can give you their thoughts on their perception of Izzy's character and his significance in those areas.

I suppose my point is... I'm mad and genuinely disappointed. I can't remember the last time I was so attached to a character. I absolutely adored Izzy's character and was drawn to him in the first season. I related to him struggling with his toxic environment and finding a safe space. I was ready to see him become a captain. Heck, even if that wasn't planned for him, I still trusted the crew to let the character be happy after everything he's been through. Instead, I got this: "As long as you turn over a new leaf and heal, your death is a good one... Redemption equals no happily ever after... Remember that life isn't fair..." Aren't we tired of such narratives? What does it say about us and the media we consume? Isn't hypernormalisation of such issues exhausting?

I'm disappointed because I had hope. Even after getting betrayed by so many stories in recent years, I still had it. I had hope for a different character. Hope for a different show.

Edit: Just wanted to make something clear because I see more and more people focusing on Buttons sitting on Izzy's grave and David Jenkins liking a tweet about him being a witch. You could call me a hypocrite for pointing out people's lack of media literacy and not even considering the possibility of bringing Izzy back. That was my first thought. I would absolutely love for Buttons to do his magic and revive our man. There is something inside of me still holding onto that hope. I'm just really, really, REALLY tired of having hope in shows nowadays. I'm choosing to remain sceptical. Who knows, maybe I'll be positively surprised. Still, I stand by what I wrote: I think killing Izzy was unnecessary in the first place.

#and so necromancy is the only thing I have left #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd 2 #our flag means death 2 #mine #roz writes

[fatalistickiss]

MATRIMONIAL DOGMA

seonghwa x married!reader

summary ; You are not a good woman. Born poor and bitter, you were picked up by a wealthy and good man for your brand of intellect and wit which wasn't confident or bright but was skeptical and negative. Of course, there's no happy ending for glum gwens like you. After ten years of your promising youth married, your husband does what many husbands do and grows even more distant than he already was. When things appear grim though, your senior high friend who's been a famous pop star this entire time appears at the most convenient place for blooming affairs.

wc ; 8.9k

tags ; cheating, canon compliant (eh) seonghwa, afab reader, not very good with tags uhhh!! doggy style in a shitty motel (ok its not shitty at all but the sentence looks funny let me be), unprotected sex (yk the standard drill always use a condom), breeding/creampies/i genuinely dont know the difference, cunnilingus, missionary, oral (both receiving and giving), reader is suffering from "success" (being married to a rich dude), conspiring to murder, reader has shitty eyesight and wears glasses, descriptions of blood and violence, lmk if i forgot any 👍

disclaimer : please do not do any of the following, if you're unsatisfied with your irl relationship then do the mature thing which is to break up/divorce. and also please dont murder people that is (unfortunately) illegal.

Where do you start? Oh right, so you're at this bar, alone. Your hair and appearance is all done but what's missing on your face is the beauty that they see clinging onto the arms of pigs with pens made of gold. Swishing the near empty glass of hennessy, you simultaneously readjust your glasses. If a man wanted to approach you right now, he would. If your husband wanted to fuck you and think of you as he does so tonight, he would.

Well, what do you care about your husband anyway? You already have a high position thats pays well at your office job and close connections with others in your part of society. So what if he ditches you for someone younger and better and then you get labeled by the media as someone who didn't know or appreciate what she had until she lost it? ... Now you know. That's the thing.

There's those unhealthy thoughts again, you look at your watch to see the time; 8:36 P.M. You aren't a kid anymore and you don't live with the concept of "curfew", but you do want to be the best wife possible so you can at least fall from grace and be brought back in some next few decades to be hailed a scorned woman who did no wrong. You laugh hoarsely at the thought, maybe there'd be some good to it after all. But you don't intend on facing that initial wave of shame just yet.

Enter Park Seonghwa, a man who you've made quite fair acquaintance with in senior highschool. News has it he's now a member of the famous boy group "ATEEZ". He's been on your radar for quite some time, but not because you're thinking of fucking another man before your husband can fuck another woman. That thought hasn't occurred to you yet. He's still in your contacts, but how you'll approach this guy is still a plan in the works.

But that won't be necessary tonight. The sound of shoes tapping around the cement floor of this bar has been completely tuned out of your ears, so you don't notice when someone sits down on the chair next to you.

"Long time no see, Y/N." you hear a familiar voice call out; slowly, you turn to your left and find the man himself before you. You are very reasonably shocked and flinch at the sight of him. How could you be so sure that this Seonghwa is the real deal? He's not wearing anything that could obscure his identity, is he not at all concerned about whatever insane spies news outlets have? Or could this just be a marketing scheme planned between both your company and his company that you for some reason weren't informed about in advance?

"Ah, hi..." you wave, with each time your palm swayed you grew increasingly aware of your face's cells. He chuckles in response, "You've changed quite a bit from the last time we saw each other." "People aren't still images, if that helps." you quip, taking a sip out of your near-empty glass. Seonghwa tosses a glance your way, to which you add on, "Just messing with you." Softly he smiles. "I heard you're married?" he suddenly admits, your movement halting for a brief second. "Indeed, I am. Do you know my husband?" "I've also heard of him, he's the CEO of a prominent property management company here, right?" You nod, making eye contact with him as you both spoke.

Looking back to your glass, you find that it is now completely empty. After you ask the bartender for a refill, Seonghwa watches you with intent. "It's a shame honestly," he sighs dreamily, "A woman like you, married to such a simple man." "What do you mean by that?" you immediately ask after nearly choking a little on your drink. "Ah, i'm not insulting you. It's just that..." his gaze strays a little as his knuckles lightly press against his lips, "You always seemed bored in your photos together. Surely, you must not be having much fun in your marriage if you don't even smile once being seen with him.." You don't interject, letting the idol dig at your husband for as long as he'd like. It's not like he's too wrong, after all. In fact, dare you say it's even amusing that a man who has such a kind and caring reputation to uphold would even be so bold as to talk shit about a wealthy man to that man's own wife.

Your mood brightened by this encounter you've subconsciously needed for so long, you take one long sip as you listen to Seonghwa point out all of your husband's weak points as a person; it's music to your ears, as they say. Shortly after, you join him in this bashing, even letting the star in on some of his most humiliating of secrets. This conversation is something that could only be heard by the both of you and the bartender, who you're already well acquainted with and can just pay to shut up should anybody ask what went down here.

In the middle of your incessant giggling and dragging, your phone dings. You quickly pause your conversation and check what it could be—a text message from the man himself. Unaware of Seonghwa's sudden switch in facial expression from gleeful to grim, you excuse yourself to read the text.

this guy again: what time will you be home tonight? mother says she's worried somebody might do something to you.

this guy again: oh, on top of that we will also be going out tomorrow to visit them.

You sigh, pinching your nose bridge as you try to think of a good response so you don't look like you're taking his family's kindness for granted. In fact, one of the few remaining good things about this man is that his side of the family actually likes you as an inlaw. Before you two got married you were very much from a poor background yes, but the same reason he married you back then is also the same reason his parents also liked you and still like you today. That's what you explain to Seonghwa after apologizing to him for the hold up. "I can tell they genuinely mean well, it's just that their son could find a nicer lady any day now and..." you pause. Why are you so worried about something like that in the first place? Other wives don't have to deal with harrowing fears of their husbands cheating. After all,

there are other ways he could leave you for dead, alone and nothing.

"You don't love him anymore, Mrs. L/N." Seonghwa claims, his hand on your back. This is undoubtedly true. It dawned on you how he could take everything from you should he not want you anymore. Your job, your money, and your name. Not once did you consider the love you could have had for him, because it was never there to begin with. How did you go all those years without that sort of revelation? You turn to Seonghwa, handsome in this lighting. Are you that sort of person now? His hand crawls up your spine and to the back of your head, urging you to come closer on your own volition. Well, it wouldn't hurt you at all. Giving in, you hold his face and kiss him. The moment your lips press together, he holds you for an embrace. You pull away for a moment to ask, "Do any of your group members know you're here?" "They don't have to. Let me be your secret."

That was good enough for you to go with him. Luckily, your face or style of dress isn't all too remarkable or distinguishable from any other woman having a fun night out. All you do is slap back on your mask and the two of you sneak to his car. Hopping into the front passenger seat, you voice out a thought, "This is going to sound really dumb, but it feels a little bit weird knowing that some idols have their own cars.." Naturally, whenever an idol or idol group travels, publicly they're shown accompanied by their members or staff. That sentiment was indeed not very smart, and while you weren't at all completely oblivious to the k-pop scene and how insane some fan statements and beliefs can get, there were some parts to it that stuck with you subconsciously. Which is why you were surprised at yourself for even thinking that it would be weird for a grown adult to have their own car. "I get you. Most of the time I do just use the company car or walk to go somewhere." he laughs.

Perhaps it's because you're an inexperienced cheater, but you feel something heavy coming down on you as he drives. You know that you're making a very huge mistake, one that will eventually not end up biting you in the ass so hard they'll make movies out of it. But at the same time, it feels exhilarating. After all, this isn't just any guy that you're going to two time with, it's a beautiful artist with tons of applause to his name. Maybe just this one night you'll go and tomorrow it'll be just the past between you two and nobody will ever find out.

The two of you end up at your destination which is a rather simple love hotel, not that you were complaining. It isn't mediocre but it isn't luxury like your husband would take you to during vacations. Humbling yourself however, you shrug it off; although you are a bit worried about the possibilities of someone working here accidentally ratting you out while talking to a coworker during lunch hours, Seonghwa puts a hand over your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile as you both enter to check in.

The entire time that he was talking to the lady at the front desk, you felt slight tingles which you merely brush off as the cold air sweeping over your bare skin. It was a simple few minutes or less process that felt like an entire hour had swept by. You inhaled and exhaled a huge sigh of relief when you two finally got to the elevator. Now, you aren't going to turn back. Very much so are you open to the idea of night dancing with this fine man. Getting off the elevator and finally entering your room, he asks you if you want to take a bath first, as to which you politely decline and let him go before you. While you wait, you sit on the bed and check your phone for any updates. You didn't open your phone to look at the message so that means your husband didn't get the read notification; which you thank your earlier self for. This does mean though that he added more while you two made the trip.

9:12 P.M

this guy again: if you're too drunk to make the journey back home yourself, dont worry. i sent yujun to pick you up. he should be there any minute now, so stay where you are i will also notify your bartender friend not to let you go anywhere.

Your stomach drops to the ground floor. Yujun is your personal driver though, and to seem the least class traitor as you could be being a successful office woman married to a landlord, you have also made good friends with him; therefore, you calm down a little knowing you could stop him before it's too late. But you also stiffen up again knowing that you can't just tell this guy not to pick you up from the bar. You can trust that the bartender wouldn't tell a single soul what you just did, but your personal driver who also drives for your husband is also another story. Quickly, you open the app and go straight to Yujun's contact. You call him so as to not leave a single trace of evidence on your phone or his phone that you said anything about this; and luckily he picks up.

"Yes, ma'am?" "Yujun, i'm sure you got Daeho's order to pick me up from Babylon, but I met Heera there and she wanted to invite me to her and Yang's place for the night. My phone just so happened to die out before I could tell him about this which is why I didn't tell him first. Be a dear for me and relay the message, okay? I'll be home next morning, and tell Mrs. Lee that I love her and her homemade samgyeopsal. Thanks." you hang up immediately before he could say a word, but rest assured that Heera would most definitely have your back behind all this, even if she has no idea that you finally heeded her advice from seven years ago the first time you brought up your husband's distance.

Seonghwa hops out of the shower as soon as you finally relax. You look to the open bathroom door, the steam flying out of it like a legendary item had just been unboxed. As it clears, there he is, tightening the robe he's now wearing. He is very clearly handsome, and that is only exemplified by his utterly stellar appearance fresh from the heat of a warm shower. Locking eyes with you, he smiles and lets you know, "It's your turn. Sorry for the wait." With that, you nod and walk to the bathroom, being greeted by the nice warmth left by him.

Waiting for you, Seonghwa lays on the bed, resting his head on his hand. He didn't tell you why he was there or why he wanted to do this, but he's happy regardless that you agreed so easily. It does seem like his initial suspicions about your marriage were indeed true. Part of him does feel bad that a friend that he hasn't seen for so long was trapped in a marriage that isn't even worth the salt of being toxic or unhealthy, just absence from both sides for years. But the other part of him is also over the clouds at this opportunity. His phone at this time also receives a call from his group's leader. "Hello?" he says, picking it up knowing the question that's going to proceed next.

"Seonghwa, where are you? Our manager's been wondering when you're going to come back to the dorm." "I'm at an old friend's place. Tell him i'll be back by tomorrow." he hums. "Okay. Be safe." "Thanks, Hongjoong. See you then." The call ends, and he is still waiting for you.

Inside the bathroom, you're already finished but you try to think things over a bit as you look into the mirror. Taking off the shower cap, you let your hair finally free as you stare long and hard at the face that's supposed to be yours. Is this the face of an unfaithful wife? Your hand finds itself on your cheek, seemingly as a way to ensure that you are currently here. But then you remember, and that's all it takes for you to decide that this is what you truly want. Still, you don't question why Seonghwa would approach you so suddenly. When you come out, you find Seonghwa sitting there and his face lighting up as soon as you appear before him.

"Come here." he urges, gesturing with his finger. You obey, and crawl onto the bed and into his hold. Your face burns up a little being this close to him, you knew this man and you'd never thought something like this would happen between you two. He grins and plays a bit with your hair, "Pretty... Should I take you here now?" "Isn't that what's supposed to happen?" "It is." he answers before undoing his robe, revealing his bare body. He quickly bundles up the robe and tosses it to the side; pinning you down onto the mattress after you shyly stumbled to take yours off too. "You'll be seeing stars by the end of it all." Seonghwa giggles as he undresses you. Your nude form now out in the open before a man that you are not married to, your entire face begins to feel like it's been set on fire.

Slowly, Seonghwa lowers down to in between your legs, lightly pushing them apart so he'd have an easier time eating you out. The second you feel his tongue on your heat, your spine jolts up. Continuously, he licks at your cunt and then goes so far as to begin sucking on your clit. Such a sensation had you making light breathing noises before, now it has you moaning—something that you previously weren't even aware you could do without it being forced. He pulls your body in closer, his tongue now entering inside your pussy. A hand weak at the rush of ecstasy finds itself tugging on silk raven locks of hair as the other arm tries to support the rest of your body. The night had only just begun and yet you could already feel yourself rapidly approaching orgasm. Before that actually happens though, Seonghwa pulls away leaving you to look at him with a concerned expression—then he pulls you downward, face to face with his hard on. You don't need an explanation as to what he wants you to do now, do you?

With what strength he left you with from that first bout, you adjust yourself properly and take hold of his shaft with one hand and slowly take it into your mouth. It's overall thickness and length was fine, which is your shy way of saying that you could already feel your innards making way for this thing. Getting down to the base was a bit of a challenge, but luckily you're able to push through. Sucking on it, you bobbed your head up and down as you could hear the sound of Seonghwa getting off to what you were currently doing. When he ejaculates, you feel a rush of a familiar stringy white fluid shoot down into your throat and you swallow it. He continues to stroke it as you cupped your breasts with your mouth still wide open, your face and cleavage area being doused in his semen. This night is still far from over. Seeing as your glasses were soiled by the liquid, you nonchalantly place it on the nightstand and proceed.

Next, you get on all fours and spread one of your asscheeks; giving him another full view of your rear. Eagerly, he takes hold of your ass and slides the tip up and down your slit before sliding it in; which elicits a small gasp from you before he starts fully pounding into your hole, making you clench the sheets below you. Very quickly, a clear white fluid begins gushing out of your cunt. Glorified piss spills out with each time his hips snapped against your behind. With how fast he's doing you, you can't help but let yourself fully go; your mouth agape as saliva seeps out. This would be absolutely humiliating to remember, you think to yourself. But you can't stop, not when you're feeling this good. You only just notice that you two aren't using a condom when he pulls out, the sensation dipping only slightly as soon as you felt like you were going to cum.

"Turn over." he pants, sweat glistening down the side of his forehead. You oblige, lying down flat on the mattress. Seonghwa then pushes up the both of your legs and gets back to work down there. Being face to face with him as he does such things to you makes you feel even more tingly than before, resulting in you trying to look away—only for him to kiss you. His saliva permeates onto your tongue, pushing you even closer towards a full orgasm. You try to let him know, but you can't speak with his mouth on yours; your hands immediately flying to his back, your nails starting to dig into his flesh. It's there, you can feel it, the feeling of pure ecstasy that you haven't felt in so, so long. Seonghwa's lips are so, so soft. Your legs cross, pulling him in even closer. The steel clawing of your nails is now starting to draw blood, yet he doesn't stop.

When your lips finally separate from eachother, you can't even utter a single word; only mumbling incoherent sounds and pulling him even closer and tighter into your embrace. One of your hands makes its way to the back of his head and tugs on his hair strongly as you finally came. Your back arches as you're overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your entire body and inside it. The sound that comes out of you is completely distinguishable from the woman you normally regard yourself as. Right now, you don't have time to worry about the fact that you look absolutely debauched.

In need of some rest before continuing, you let Seonghwa rest his head on your bare chest; your hand placed gently on his hair as he talks with you. "Y/N, are you on birth control?" "... No." you breathe, a slight bit of regret to your tone. This understandably thickens the air around you two a bit. But you already know exactly what you're going to do if you get pregnant and it rhymes with torsion. ".. My apologies, I got too careless there.." he says, but in all honesty you're just wondering why you didn't marry this man—even if neither of you even thought this would or could happen at all at first. The way you remember Seonghwa was a total sweetheart, hell you were one of the girls crushing on him at one very brief point; even so, you found much more satisfaction being just someone he sometimes hung out with then. To think that it would all come down to this, I guess you could say you felt a small tinge of glory inside. But you don't think you love him, he's as cute as you and everybody else from your highschool remembers him—but you're not sure if you could see yourself making him your number one.

"It's alright. I'll be able to handle it fine by myself." you whisper, playing around with some of the semen in between your fingers. He doesn't believe you, but you're married and he's not. Although a little sore and tired, you still recovered enough to sit up and excuse yourself to go wash the cum off your face. After all, you most certainly wouldn't want to experience the effect it would have on your hair should you let it dry.

With you out of his sight, Seonghwa sighs and sits properly against the pillows. The sting of your scratching then surges into him. Hissing from the initial onset of pain, he then notices the blood left by your nails.

As soon as you were about to open the bathroom door, Seonghwa beats you to it, and you see the bloody mess left by yourself. Under the realization of what you did earlier, you feel the clear need to apologize, to which he stops you from doing so kindly and just heads to the shower. Of course, the scratches may be minor, but you can't help but feel like you have to at least help him somewhat. You make the decision to step into the shower to his surprise and offer to help wash his back. He doesn't give you a response, but still gives you a small nod. Unbeknownst to you, his face is blushing, clearly flustered by this reasonable act of kindness from you. "This might sting a bit, sorry.." you say, about to start scrubbing the soap bar on his wounds. "I.. It's fine..." he mumbles, letting out a small wince after feeling the soap initially soak into his skin. It very quickly stops though as you quickly make sure you cover all the areas and immediately rinse it off, grabbing the shower head from behind him to make it faster. "I'm not sure if this hotel has a first aid kit, but i'll do what I can. After all the scratches don't look that deep..." you tell him, putting the shower head down. Seonghwa looks back and gives you a small smile, "Thanks." Subconsciously, you smile too.

Back on the bed, you lay on your side as Seonghwa looks out at the starry sky. "The sky looks gorgeous tonight. Do you wanna see?" "If I wanted to look at stars, I could simply look up pictures of a starry sky." you hum, browsing your twitter feed. "I personally think that stars look better when you see them in person." he says, still watching the sky. "I totally agree." you joke. Having caught up with the weird happenings all over the world packed into your phone today, you turn it off and prepare to go to sleep; although you aren't really feeling sleepy at all. Shortly, Seonghwa gets back into bed with you, running one hand down your side. "Are you going to sleep now?" he asks. "No." you answer, your hand that your head was resting on earlier stretching out after it was starting to feel numb. Suddenly and slowly, Seonghwa takes hold of one of your legs and raises it. "Still in the mood?" "Yes."

He puts it in, and you can feel it getting harder as he pushes it inside. His movements this time are slow but with just as much passion as before. You use your left hand to pull him in for a kiss, the room being filled with nothing but the sound of you making love to another man behind your husband's constantly turned back.

The night fades as it walks.

Next morning, you make it home safely without looking the least bit suspicious as you notified Heera first thing in the early morning at 6:43 A.M about your whereabouts, your alibi, and to not notify a single person—not even her husband—about what went on that night. You and Seonghwa parted ways, with you thanking him with a kiss on the cheek before going with your friend who was over the moon (in a quiet way so as to not alert anybody).

On the way home, your thoughts are filled with last night's memories. You trust that Yujun complied to your abrupt request that night, well, surely he must have, right? Too deep in thought, you fail to notice when you've already come back to your home. Before you exit the car, Heera grabs your wrist. When you look back, you see a woman so happy that she could start incoherently screaming—but instead, she gives you a tearful thumbs up and lets you go.

When you finally come inside, you find your husband sitting on the couch with a single paper on the table in front of him. You freeze at the sight—groaning obscenities inside your head as you think the worst. Slowly past the servants, you try to walk to the stairs to head to your room; but he catches you before you could do so.

"Y/N." he calls out. Immediately, you start thinking of sliding down to your knees and pleading for forgiveness. But when you answer to his call, he hands you the paper. "Are you okay? Don't tell me you drank again this morning." he cocks his brow seeing your grave expression, to which you quickly brush it off as the morning air being so cold that even your arms got cold under your sleeves. Being handed the paper, you see that it isn't really what you expected it to be. Then your husband explains what it is, "Yujun told me that Heera took you to her house last night, and that you wanted to tell my mom that you love the samgyeopsal she makes. So I told her that and in return at around 6:40 this morning she sent me this letter that's supposed to be for you."

Relieved, you nod along and read the contents of the letter. It was just a sweet message from your mother-in-law for the small note you added at the end of your favor to Yujun. You can't help but genuinely smile reading all the nice things she has to say to and about you. All of this.. makes your stomach sick. Now what you have done is starting to weigh in on you, but not for your husband—but for the people who believe that you are not such a person. "I see. I'm happy that Mrs. Lee was happy to hear what I had to say." "Of course she's happy, you are the first woman i've had in my life that she likes this much." Without further ado, you're allowed to go back up to your room to dress into some comfy home clothes.

You both share a bedroom, but due to the large expanse of your home you've made the room next to your bedroom your personal hangout. Setting down the plastic bag containing your underwear, you undress and toss both your clothing from last night along with last night's underwear into the basket. Lounging down on the chair next to the window naked, you can get a nice view of the pool from here. After a brief second of rest, you stand back up and look into the second closet that you own in search of something to wear. While you're putting on your leggings though, you are still brought to think about last night. You have to get ready again in about a few hours. For now, you ponder what you should do now. You could forget, surely Seonghwa would move on from this fairly easily as well. Mindlessly, you spin around in your chair until the maids tell you that breakfast is ready. You wonder why they still made breakfast for you when you just came home from a friend's house, but you shrug it off—it is actually your first real meal of the day.

The morning Seonghwa comes back to the dorm, the members are all minding their own business. Wooyoung is the first to greet him.

"Ah! Welcome back, Seonghwa!" he beams, hugging him tight. Seonghwa pats Wooyoung's back and greets the other members good morning. They suspect nothing, after all he did say he was just at an old friend's place. It's still quite early in the morning, and their schedule for the day doesn't start until later so he still has time to switch into something comfortable.

Much later in the day, you have now prepared to go outside with your husband to your parents-in-law's home. During the drive there, your husband as usual is looking absentmindedly outside the window while you.. sit there. With what you've done you have now relegated yourself to the acceptance of the fact that you no longer have any right to try and pursue his participation in this relationship. A small hopeful part of you still wishes that for some odd reason he starts paying more affectionate attention to you out of seemingly nowhere now, but you know that's not going to happen; and you're right. Maybe you should really just divorce him, it's not like you had too many good memories with him. After all, you have Seonghwa now. But you are very well acquainted with the saying "you lose them how you get them", and the degree of his devotion to you is still very uncertain. Although, you could do some things to ensure that he won't ever leave your side...

Having finally arrived outside their front gate; when your husband rings the doorbell, the gates suddenly maneuver open and your mother in law suddenly appears and holds you in for a deep embrace. "Y/N! My sweet dear Y/N! It's been so long since you and Daeho last visited! Did you get my letter? Ah, you really are such a sweet girl!" she continues showering you with compliments as you and Daeho both walk into his parents' just as lavish living space. His father politely greets you and naturally you greet him back, showing off your perfected 90° bow. "You know, I was actually just thinking of making samgyeopsal for our meetup today last night and then Daeho called me telling me what you wanted to say! Everyday, I can't help but feel so proud that my son had found such a stunning and perfect wife!" "Ahaha, i'm so glad you think that way, Mrs. Lee! I really do mean it when I say I love your cooking, but i'm not so sure if I can agree with me being a perfect wife.." you say, a hundred percent of those words actually being true. "How many times must I tell you? You can call me mom! And oh, don't be so shy my dear.. Any man in the world would be so lucky to have a woman like you as his wife!" she giggles gleefully. His dad then chimes in, "Indeed. Your mother-in-law and I are eternally happy that you came into our son's life. Your pure heart and your demure soul is one in a million."

You can't help but feel somewhat embarrassed, his parents seem to be more in love with you than he is with you. "Oh, you're both too kind. In fact, i'm already happy just knowing that i'm married to such a wonderful man and blessed with in-laws like you.." Before they could both continue with their incessant praise, Daeho puts a stop to it. "Yes, my wife is amazing. But we won't get anywhere with this meeting if we keep going back and forth." In any other context this would be seen as an asshole move but in all honesty you are just insanely glad somebody put an end to it.

Without further ado, the food is brought to the dining table and it's several larger-than-normally-provided-for-just-a-simple-lunch-with-in-laws courses for only four people. Of course, you immediately aim for the samgyeopsal which is further to your husband's left while you're on his further right. You quietly get his attention and ask for the serving plate, to which he obliges. The problem with you two isn't that you argue, but you simply don't talk enough to even have the energy or spite to. He tolerates you, and you tolerate him. Your phone is on the table, face up, and off. While you're thoroughly enjoying the food as your husband talks with his parents about recent events in life, your phone suddenly lights up with a notification. Normally, the reason why you have your phone out is in the case of an emergency. Checking the notification and who it's from however, you instantly put it face down on your lap. "And what about you, Y/N?" "Huh—" "Anything interesting happening at your workplace?" your father in law asks. "Hmmm, not really, haha. Just functioning as it always does."

The rest of the afternoon goes fairly well, but the entire time you felt all sorts of negative emotions ranging from immense guilt and nervousness all on your lap.

Walking to the car, Daeho suddenly questions, "Where are your glasses, by the way?"

Fuck.

Your hands fly all over your face, and then you realize that you forgot your damn glasses at that hotel. It's just a wonder how you didn't end up accidentally tripping over something for the entire several hours that you weren't wearing it. "... Oh shit." you mutter. "I-i'll call Heera, maybe she has it." "Okay, but do it at home."

The drive home consisted of your husband being completely oblivious to the abomination that your mental state is right now, and you staring dead outside the window with a powerful sense of dread lurching in your abdomen. To escape this somewhat, you finally decide to check your phone and read what Seonghwa sent you.

Seonghwa: hey, you left your glasses at the hotel so I kept them. do you want to come get them?

Pinching your nose bridge, you sigh and reply. However, before you hit send, you suddenly change your mind and backspace rapidly.

You: I have something different in mind. But first, no. If possible, please come to my house with the glasses at 10:15 or later. My husband goes to sleep at around 9:45. I'll make sure that im the one to answer the door.

Seonghwa: alright. I dont have much time to talk with you more so i'll see you then 💕

Cute. He sent you a heart emoji.

When you finally come home, your first instinct is to rush up to your personal hideout, change clothes, and wait. You expected to go home at 1:00 P.M but all that chit chat postponed that to six in the evening. Considering how you only got four hours of sleep and chose to power through the day making the fact that you did not have your glasses all the more egregious, you decide that now would be the time to take a nice nap to use up your freetime for today.

At around 10:00 sharp, Seonghwa prepares to go outside, your glasses safe in a spare empty box he found lying around.

"You're going out again?" Yeosang sleepily asks, catching his hyung in the act of leaving. "Yeah. The same friend I was with last night forgot their glasses so i'm just giving it back to them." "Oh ok..." With that Seonghwa leaves. After dragging his feet back to his own room, Yeosang goes, "Wait. How could his friend forget their own glasses at their own home..?" Again like last night, Seonghwa opts to drive his own car which is parked right beside the company one. Whenever pictures are taken outside the building, fans always assume that car belongs to another employee.

You wake up at 10:21, much later than you assumed you'd wake up but in time to know that Seonghwa's here now. Creeping downstairs barefoot, you tiptoe all the way to the door, hastily opening it as fast as you can. There he is, he gives you the box containing your glasses—which is all that you needed from him. However, on an impulse, you look around cautiously before inviting him in. Since you and your husband aren't on vacation to somewhere else and as soon as you came home, the servants have turned off the surveillance cameras. This you know since one of the maids woke you up in the middle of your nap to inform you. Convenient how everything just falls into place. "Do you want a drink?" "Just water will do." Seonghwa answers, taking off his hood and mask. You nod and then go to fetch him a cup.

Sitting down right next to him in jogging pants and a tank top that barely covers your bra, you drink the cup of water that you also got for yourself. He in turn has also discarded his hoodie, and drinks the cup that you got for him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" "It was last night." "No, I mean since we last saw each other before that." you say, setting the cup down on the table. "Yeah." his eyes clearly on your bust area. Well, it's not like you two could talk a whole lot about the time you've spent together in high school. You had a crush him for four weeks which was initially why you were hanging out with him in the first place. Even then, you didn't talk all that much in class or just in general. You mostly saw eachother at lunch or at dismissal. You just both knew that the other existed.

It's not like you invited him in for sentimental chat anyway. You look at him while he looks at you. "Do you want me to waste your time, baby?" "Please. He already does that to me daily."

With that same fond smile, he unzips his pants and pulls out his dick. It's already hard, and you don't know how long it's been that way. Nevertheless, you get on the floor and between his legs. You lick your lips before taking him in. Slowly, your head moves up and down. In no time, his cock is already practically drenched in your spit. Gradually, your pace quickens, making him toss his head back and letting out a quiet gasp. When he finally cums, you swallow down every single drop of it—licking up any residue from your lips.

Standing and turning around, you pull down your jogging pants along with your panties, revealing how wet you've gotten just from sucking him off. His hands go onto your hips to guide you as you sit down on his still erect cock. You are playing a way riskier and more dangerous gambit than last night. Seonghwa bites his lip to suppress any sounds, just tightly holding onto your hips as you bounced on his lap. It's peculiar, how you went from being absolutely guilt ridden for the entire day to doing it again tonight without any hesitation. Together, you both reach climax—your love fluids gushing out from underneath you and spilling all over his dick, the strength of your orgasm causing you to clench your knees together.

Considering how you both didn't want to up the risk any further, you go to the bathroom without your pants to clean yourself up.

Returning to the living room, you wonder if you should let Seonghwa go for the night, so you ask him if he wants to stay. "But your husband's here?" he looks at you with confusion. "I have an extra room where he doesn't go to that you can hide in for the night. But if you want to go back to your dorm that's fine as well." You make it clear that you both have choices here, and that you won't make any fuss should he decide to leave. But to your surprise, he chooses to stay. After putting back on your pants, you quietly lead him upstairs to where your personal space is. "I took a nap here while waiting for you. You can sleep on the bed over there." you point to the spare bed right behind the chair you sat on this morning.

That's where he ends up sleeping for the night while you watch. In time though, you also end up falling asleep again. Once you wake up, it's already nine in the morning. Apparently as he usually does, your husband had left for other important matters without telling you. Before, this would put you off immensely, often feeding into your fears about him having found someone on the side. But you're just relieved that he never checks in on you first. In this situation now that would be hazardous. You find that Seonghwa is also awake, as he's currently sitting in front of you. "Mh, wait here. I'll talk with the maids." Downstairs, you can smell the aroma of freshly made pancakes. Perfect, you could just ask for two on your plate. After briefly greeting the maids good morning and receiving the two pancakes on your plate in question, you head back upstairs.

As you both eat breakfast, you catch Seonghwa glancing over from time to time to outside your window and at the pool. "Is something wrong?" "Ah, no.. I was just looking at the pool you have outside there, it looks nice." he says, finishing up his plate. You end up letting him use the second bathroom downstairs which was where you went to wash yourself up the night before. Meanwhile, after doing your business in the bathroom on this floor, you put on some more presentable clothes—namely, your usual office attire. You have work only in the later morning during the near end of the month, so you still have some time before you have to go. Meeting Seonghwa downstairs in the living room, you find him looking outside at the pool again. "Do you want to go swim?" you raise your brow.

He did. As you stand on the side with your folder over your head to shield your eyes from the morning sun despite spring only having begun, Seonghwa's having the time of his life fooling around in the water. The sun does calm down though and you put your folder down to look at your watch. Still a bunch of time left before you have to part ways again. Instead of sitting down on one of the chairs, you choose to continue standing, observing as your shirtless new boytoy has fun in your pool. In the middle of watching him however, you wonder if he told any of his group mates that he was going to be gone for this long.

Eventually, time comes and you have to bid your temporary farewells. "Seonghwa." "Hm?" "I have work today, therefore i'll have to go and so will you. Thank you for last night and the other night." you smile. "Let me drive you there." he says, splashing the water around him as he jumps to your feet. "Huh? Oh, that won't be necessary. Yujun should be here any minute now—" "I want to spend more time with you." You stare at him blankly, genuinely surprised to hear the words that came out of his mouth. Needless to say, you agree and call Yujun to tell him that a friend would be driving you to work today instead.

While he drives, you ponder giving him the directions to the quickest shortcut you know from your home to your office. But he did say that he wanted to spend more time with you. Despite that, you both barely say anything during the drive there. While you were looking through the window, Seonghwa would look at you with a certain gaze.

When you finally get there, you get out of the car and take a single step forward before looking back at him. Before you leave, you crawl back inside for a brief moment to kiss him again. With that, you both go back to your own lives.

You happen to be right on time, getting off the elevator at the exact time that you're supposed to be here. As you walk to your personal office, you greet everyone as you usually do. Like any normal day, you hear small chatter amongst your coworkers, but you never pay any mind to it since it's their business. Sometimes you eavesdrop just a tiny bit to hear what the goods are. As you put your hand on the door however, a woman approaches you.

"Hello! You must be Mrs. L/N, right?" People randomly approaching you isn't anything new, especially if it's a new employee. "Yes. That's me, may I help you with anything?" you answer, facing her completely. "Oh, Mr. Nam hasn't introduced me to you yet! I'm Song Mira!" she grins, extending her hand out to you. Mr. Nam. Nam Daeho. Your husband? You slowly nod and shake her hand. Surely there's other men with the surname Nam in your department who have some sort of obligation to introduce people to you. "I see. What brings you here? The day has just started." "Oh, actually, your husband and I have been great friends for quite some time now—" What? You know all of your husband's friends whether they be close or mere acquaintances. But, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt; surely, they must not talk too often if he hasn't thought of introducing her to you first. "Are you okay, miss? You look—" "I.. I'm fine. Apologies, continue." "As I was saying, Mr. Nam wanted me to tell you that he'll be away for a trip for the next entire month." As suspicious as this would be had your relationship been any healthier than it isn't, you know that your husband couldn't care less to let you be the one to know first, that's just how it goes for you two. He'll let a random stranger on the street know where he's going and when he'll be back before he tells you upfront, instead he sends people or texts to relay the message. Therefore, you brush it off and thank Mira for informing you.

The bright young lady skips off and you enter your office. You may have seemed cool about it, but inside you were still fretting about the relationship between that woman and Daeho. All sorts of thoughts, fears, and scenarios play out in your head as you try to keep it together. Your fingers curl at the thought that Daeho did already beat you to the punch of infidelity. You may be no better, but at least you didn't do it out of nothing but pure lust. As you type away on your desktop, you can feel your teeth pinching the flesh of your thumb and your sight becoming blurrier despite you finally having your glasses. The pain of your teeth puncturing your thumb is completely discarded as you press hard on one key, ruining the thing you were working on as the letter 'y' fills your screen in rapid fire speed. Rather than making a fool out of yourself by bringing the issue to your husband and accidentally misunderstanding the situation, your mind immediately flies to how to solve this. Collecting yourself again, your inhale deeply and breathe. You select all the extra y's you accidentally spammed, delete them, and continue working.

Do you file for divorce? Do you ignore it altogether? Do you use Seonghwa as a spy? No, no, and no... Those all have ways that they could end up going horribly. Like a faint red light slowly dying the landscape of your mind, something suggests itself to you. It's immoral, perhaps even more immoral than infidelity. Murder. There'll be no one to embarrass or take anything away from you if they're dead. Out of the picture. But of course, you can't just stab or shoot him and get rid of the corpse. You have to make sure that absolutely nobody tries to take revenge or matters into their own hands—whether it be that girl or the authorities. You are not willing to let your coveted lifestyle fall into the hands of another. The cards all fell into place for you to have your affair, so surely, it'll all fall into place for you to murder your husband. Unlike other murderers, you will walk out of this the same person—unscathed. Finally having calmed down, you continue working.

Seonghwa on the other hand comes home to his concerned group members. Remembering his faulty excuse last night, he stands in front of the table. "Seonghwa. What were you actually doing those past two nights?" Hongjoong asks. "I was with a friend." he answers, feigning innocence. "But you most definitely were not at their place." "Technically I was." he hums, fixing his hair. This is out of character for him, they know. He's a softball, a cute and kind person in front of the fans. He also has his dorky parts, but he's not what he's presenting to the other members of ATEEZ.

"You know our company doesn't have strict rules on dating, why would you keep this a secret from us?" Yunho questions, although what happens is his privacy, the way he went on about it seemed like he was hiding something crucial. "She's married." That sentence alone renders all of them speechless. "Y-you're joking, right? You're not actually having an affair with a married lady, are you?" Wooyoung stutters in disbelief. To add fuel to the fire, Seonghwa adds on, "It's the wife of a man who owns a property management company." "Seonghwa, you can't be serious! You'll be getting into serious trouble not just with that man for getting involved with his wife!" Hongjoong argues, but ultimately, the look on Seonghwa's face tells that there is no convincing him out of it. With a heavy sigh, the leader buries his face in his hand. "I guess you better be prepared to make sure that absolutely nobody else finds out about this if you don't want to give her up." The others exchange glances before turning to their eldest, who knows very well what he's getting into. Whether or not they'll help cover for him is still something they'll have to debate amongst themselves.

Your work day ends at 6:30 P.M, as the sun starts to go down and the sky is a cold shade of light blue, you tell Yujun over the phone that you'll walk home today. As you walk down the shortcut with a dull expression on your face, knowing what you will now be conspiring and how you'll plan it, a familiar car stops by. The window rolls down, and for the first time today, you smile. Seonghwa drives you home. Once you get there, you sit on the couch and let him linger for a bit. Before he greets you another goodbye and walks for the door however, you ask him to stay. "I have good news for you, star." you tell him, and he turns around to hear what it is. "My husband's not going to be here for the whole month."

His lips curl up, and he lets out a small breathy laugh. This just got even better.

MATRIMONIAL DOGMA ⋄ 1

prologue of promiscuity

end.

next.

 fatalistickiss

AUTHOR'S SECTION ; Hello! nir eahc chae rin here and I just wanted to say if you're reading this then thank you for checking out this fic. I have other things to do and originally this was an au for my ocs but then I decided to tweak it a little and make it a fic for one of those said ocs' face claim. Of course, there's more to it than just a simple face claim, I for one have been a huge shinestar since 2020 and although I sorta dipped from the fandom, I still have a lot of love for these boys. This was so fun to write because well the au's been brewing in my head for how long now considering how many fics I see focusing on the woman that the man is cheating with rather than a woman doing the cheating and although infidelity is something that I am very obviously against, I had to feed myself some of that taboo stuff as well,, Anyhow, ty for reading and if you're going to repost then please credit me @fatalistickiss!

#﹣matrimonial dogma. #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez fic #seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #ateez x reader #i wrote this but i also did not #seonghwa ff #going back to my roots with that tag

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 08.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warning: Mature content. Word Count: ~16K Previous chapter: 07.

The light shone brightly through the large windows and it only took me seconds to feel the effects of a sleepless night. Minutes after getting out of bed, I wished I could crawl back and sink into the softness of my comforter and the scent of my lavender-sprinkled pillow.

Last night offered me no rest.

With each sip of coffee, memories of an eventful night came back to me in blurs. I could make out the unpolished lines on a man's face, whose filter had been diluted by whiskey and beer. He spoke without much thought for what he was saying, yet his words rang perfectly in my mind, echoing off the walls I had built up to guard myself against him and stinging me like a needle, striking deep within my soul.

I had no excuse to keep stepping back and forth.

It was time to step into his page. If he still wanted me to.

That feeling in my stomach, not the butterflies I would often associate with him, but the fear and regret, a guilt that shouldn’t have a place inside, far more bitter than the coffee I was sipping, left me shaken and a gentle peal of laughter rippled through my gut as if my consciousness was laughing at me.

My arms and legs were tingling, craving for movement to disperse all that energy and nerves I was storing up inside, but I had to console myself with a deep breath and the refreshing sensation of the cold pool water I was dipping my legs into, but it was late and I had a team call in a few minutes. I stayed on the edge of the pool for a while, gaze travelling between the horizon and the tiny waves my legs provoked on the water's surface when they moved and my attention all over the place, drifting back and forth to the memories of last night.

Before heading upstairs, I tried again. I took a deep breath, letting the air fill every corner of my lungs and hoping that when I released it, Carlos’ face, highlighted by the faint light, and the memory of his hoarse voice whispering my name, would be freed with it.

But they weren’t.

During my shower, my walk downstairs and even when I was logging in to the laptop to get my call started, it was still only him on my mind. His face, his plea, my name.

Eva.

Eva.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at my reflection on the screen. No one had logged into the call. My eyes drifted to one of the walls of the office and then to another, stopping on the shelf again.

The helmets, the books and photographs, the personification of a dream worth chasing.

I missed the thirteen-year-old girl I once was, whose only dream was racing and who was capable of doing everything to not abandon the track—back then, the first step was getting a seat in Formula BWM and racing Carlos again.

She never got it in time to race with him.

One morning we raced each other without knowing it would be the last. One morning, for the last time, we ran to the van, heavy backpacks on our shoulders and huge grins on our lips. One morning, for the last time, we got to lunch and proudly announced who had made the best time.

One morning was the last and maybe, with a bit of effort, I could find a date somewhere in my mind to pair it with, but I didn’t need to. Didn’t want to.

Even though we never raced for a real purpose and the winner never won anything but pride, we always gave it our all. The thrill of the competition and the passion for the sport strengthened the bond that the occasion had created. He was once just my brother’s friend, the neighbour boy that was, by chance, in his class, and so much more grew from that.

I’d fallen in love with racing at the same pace I’d discovered myself; his name and his face were a permanent feature in that process. Despite everything, he was part of me and my essence, especially the racing side of my identity.

And those helmets, the house, his words so full of hope, were making me find that side again. Find the girl I once was, that version of myself that time had taken away. I wanted to be that version, because of him and for him.

I grabbed my phone and searched for my dad’s last message.

“Morning. Get me a meeting with Deborah Mayer.” I sent him.

                                                        * 

As I packed my laptop into its case, vowing not to return to the office until the end of my vacation, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back. The day was getting hotter and even with the walls providing some protection, the midday sun was oppressive.

I glanced out of the window.

The backyard and the terrace were completely deserted. The chairs around the gazebo table were exactly as we’d left them the day before and Ana’s towel still hung on the back of one of the chairs. I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of the group were still sound asleep in their beds or if they were too hungover to venture out into the heat of the day.

I got my answer the second I opened the door of the office, as I heard the sound of my brother’s voice echoing down the hallway. It seemed that no matter the situation, they had found a way to have some fun.

“Good morning, sleeping beauties," I said cheerfully as I entered the living space where both couches were occupied by my friends. Rio was stretched out on the corner of the big L couch, eyes closed and head on a soft pillow, with Marjorie’s head resting peacefully on his shoulder. On the smaller couch, Ana was focused on her phone, scrolling through something with a look of intense concentration.

She glanced up at me, her expression worn out, but with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I think they fell asleep again,” Ana said, leaning over the coffee table to retrieve her mug. Two other mugs sat on the tray atop the tiny table; the aroma of coffee mingled with the ocean breeze wafting through the open windows.

I picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it in my brother’s direction. “Good morning!” I repeated, this time a bit louder.

The pillow was still in the air when Carlos stepped in from the kitchen, white polo and navy shorts adorning his frame. He hadn't shaved yet and his hair was still wet. The sun’s rays hit his face, making his eyes appear brighter and highlighting the tiny portion of green in them.

“Morning,” he said.

He was holding a green bowl. I could see bits of granola on the surface of a white substance, likely yoghurt. My stomach growled. I didn’t have much for breakfast and I was famished. I smiled at the Spaniard and turned my face to the couple on the couch, now awake and sitting upright. Marjorie's hair was dishevelled and dark circles were visible under her eyes.

"How's that hangover treating you?" I asked her, sitting on the armrest of the couch; Carlos sat on the other side of the couch, gaze fixed on the TV.

“Still alive, so that’s a good sign,” she gave me a weak smile and leaned her head against Rio’s shoulder once more. “But I’m definitely feeling it.”

"Yeah, you definitely look like you're feeling it," I said as my brother kissed her forehead and she giggled at her own disgrace. I glanced at the TV for a second, the silence bothering me. “Anyways,” my eyes wandered through the room. I thought Ana had fallen asleep, but she quickly moved her head when I spoke. “What are the plans for today?”

“We talked about hitting the course,” Carlos replied, his eyes not leaving the TV for more than two seconds.

“Golf?” I turned back to Rio, almost begging for a change of plans. “Isn’t it too hot for that?”

He pinched both sides of his forehead and then the bridge of his nose, indicating that I may have spoken too loudly. “It’s not like we can go to the gym or a ride in a boat in this state. We’re leaving in an hour or two. It must be less warm by then.”

"Oh..." I glanced out of the window. The yacht was swaying on the waves and the sun was casting a bright line on the ocean. "I think I'll pass, but have fun.”

“No, no way!” Ana intervened. “We’re all going. You’re not going to spend the day alone.”

The other three exchanged looks and I knew right away that they were in agreement. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Fine," I said hesitantly. "I’m not playing, though.”

“Yes, you are!” Marjorie said, before yawning and stretching her arms up to the sky.  “I've already convinced these two to teach us how to play. You’re not bailing now."

I glanced over at Carlos, that just shrugged at me, and then to Rio. I couldn't help but notice the huge smile on his lips. He looked over at Marjorie, adoration clear in his eyes. “I married the right one,” he said with a satisfied nod.

"Golf it is, then," I said under my breath, defeated, and glanced at the kitchen archway. "I'll grab something to eat and get ready."

I turned on my heel, famished and frankly annoyed at the plans set for the day. The room had fallen silent again, with only the voice of one of the journalists on the TV audible. However, it changed when I stepped through the kitchen archway, as another set of footsteps followed mine. I spun around to find Carlos standing there, his empty bowl in his hands and the puffiness under his eyes setting a tired expression on his face.

My thoughts whirled around in my head. I had so many questions to ask him, ones that had been building up since last night and whose importance kept increasing. We were alone for the first time since the night before. I had every question on the tip of my tongue, but my courage slipped away. I didn’t even know if he remembered anything.

“You startled me,” I said before turning back around and entering the division.

The kitchen was empty and the only audible sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator and the chirping of some birds skirting on the window sill. While I walked to the refrigerator, Carlos stopped in front of the sink.

"There's a bowl for you in the fridge," he said. "I thought you might be hungry."

Oh?

"That's…” the gesture surprised me, but so many questions layered over the action. I forced a smile, not wanting to seem arrogant. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you."

There was a bowl in the fridge, with a generous helping of crunchy granola and dark chocolate chips floating atop the creamy yoghurt. Dark chocolate. His bowl didn’t have any dark chocolate. He added it to mine because he remembered I liked it.

“Hope it’s not soggy. You took a bit more than I expected.”

“They look fine. Thank you.”

Slowly, he turned back to the skin and started washing his bowl and a couple more mugs; I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on the image as I approached him to grab one of the spoons he’d just washed from the dish rack. His face turned toward me and seconds later the sound of the water faded.

I sat down on one of the stools of the island counter, my attention shifting between him and the cereal, incapable of allowing my eyes to sit on him. Every time they caught a glimpse of him, the memories of the night before would appear.

But he didn’t have such a problem.

I could feel myself crumble under his eyes.

“About last night,” he broke the silence, voice so low it made me drift into another frequency. “I had a few too many drinks. I need to apologize.”

“That’s fine. Don’t worry.”

But then he bit his lip and after a fast nod, he spoke again. "I just want you to know that I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I don't want to come between you two—not that I could."

I was expecting an apology, but the intensity of his gaze surprised me. He grabbed the kitchen cloth on the counter in front of me and meticulously cleaned his hands. I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper.

“No, we—” A pause. “I wasn’t—I didn���t— Nevermind.”

“I can… get you his number?" he offered, still cleaning his hands, his voice actually overlapping mine. “If you haven’t gotten it, yet.”

At this point, I don’t think we were even listening to each other. I paused for a moment, considering his words and waiting for him to listen to me. I knew he didn’t mean it. His clenched fits around the cloth told me that and much more.

I shook my head. “I don’t want that.”

Carlos nodded slowly, his expression puzzled. The line of his brows cast a shadow over his eyes. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“How many times do I have to ask you to not do that thing?” He frowned further. “Trying to read me. It feels like you’re actually inside my mind.”

He snorted. “Are you annoyed?”

I swallowed hard, the cereal was forgotten in front of me. It was clear that we were both tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, but I didn't know how to approach it. And, to be sure, I didn’t even know what it was, exactly. Was it the kiss? Was it his plea right before he fell asleep? Or was it simply the fact that we were both so obviously attracted to each other, regardless of anything else?

“I am.”

“Why?”

“How much do you remember from last night?”

“Enough.”

“Enough?” I tilted my head and he raised one of his eyebrows. “What does that exactly mean?”

“Means that I saw you kissing that guy.”

I nodded. “So you remember going there and asking me to come home?”

“I do.”

“So you should know why am I annoyed.”

“Eva, porfa—” He rolled his eyes, hands going to his hair and taking their time making their way through the strands. “What do you want me to tell you? I was drunk. Seeing him… You two together…”

“You have no reason to put on a show and get mad at me when you practically shoved me into his arms.” I took a long, deep breath. “And for a second, I was thankful when I saw you walk there, until the moment I understood why you were there.”

His eyes widened. “Thankful?”

“Are you that dumb?”

“You didn’t…?” I shook my head.

“No, you idiot.” I snapped at him. The deep shadow under his brows intensified, his jaw clenching at the same pace my words reached him. I could breathe the rage. “I didn’t want to kiss him. I probably gave him some mixed signals, but—”

“That fucking—” He mumbled, more to himself than to my ears and just as he pronounced those words, and I silenced mine, he took a deep breath. I didn’t remember the last time I heard him swear. “I’m sorry. I should have—”

“What?”

“Done something. I don’t know. I didn't mean to, but seeing you with him... I got a sense of possessiveness. I just wanted to take you out of there. For the wrong reasons?” he paused. “I’m not proud of it.” His eyes were closed, jaw locked and fits clenched. I bit the interior of my cheek, my stomach twisting in reaction to his affirmation. “And him… He’s not…”

“All this because you were so busy with some bimb—” He bit his lip, stopping his lips from curling into a grin. “Are you having fun with this?”

“I am, now.”

“What game are you playing?” He let go of his lip and his grin grew to its pinnacle. I had to take a deep breath to not say anything else. “Carlos.”

“What do you want me to say?” He shrugged. “Or else, to do? I can’t make it more clear, Eva.”

“We’ve talked about this. You’re not making this any easier. You’re being—”

“What?” He paused. “Selfish? I’m aware. I’m also aware you’re instigating every little feeling and emotion I tried to mute for years. I feel like I was fighting an addiction and now I’m on the verge of relapse.”

“You can’t—”

“I know I’m far from doing the right thing, but in two days you’ll be going back to Madrid and I’m not sure when or where I’ll see you again.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to feel like I missed my shot. Again.”

I couldn’t breathe. The air was too thick, too heavy and the floor was tilting under my feet. The way he said it, the way his lips curled into a smirk. God. The war that I was waging between my body’s needs and my mind’s fears again pushed its way to the front of my mind as soon as he said those words—in his eyes, I could sense the same turmoil I felt inside.

“You can either reject me and let me go, or you can be jealous of anyone around me. You can’t do both.” He said, voice so low and horse, a hint of tiredness warring on his features. “You need to make up your mind, Eva.”

"It would be easier to talk about it if I hadn’t already."

                                                        * 

“You’re masochists”, I said as we arrived at the clubhouse as a group, finally hiding from the heat and the sun that felt unbearable during the small walk there from the parking lot. “And probably stupid if you’re really thinking about playing in this heat.”

“Let’s get her some clubs,” Rio said to Carlos with a wink, just as he put a hand around my shoulders and dragged me to the reception. Although I tried to battle my way out of it, I couldn't escape without a bag on my shoulder and a white glove in my hand. Carlos seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling as I pulled the glove onto my hand and did the strap around my fist.

“Suits you,” he said with a grin.

We made our way to the driving range and I was blown away by the sheer size of it all, from the magnitude of the manicured lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges of the green mantle ahead of me to the luxurious ambience that enveloped us. The sun cast a beautiful light over the grass and the air was dry and hard to breathe, but the shade of the driving range gazebo made it more tolerable.

“It won’t be so hot in here,” Carlos’s hand gently touched my lower back, as he guided me to one of the unoccupied benches in front of a free tee area. “Want something to drink?”

The rest of the group settled on the other benches and around the small green patches of grass. I looked around, absorbing the energy, wanting to be in the same frequency as all of them. Marjorie was far more excited than me and I certainly didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“A mojito,” I told him. It would definitely bring up my mood. “Or a mimosa.”

“No water?” I frowned at his question, quickly shaking my head.

“You want to stay here the whole afternoon and yet you offer me water?”

Carlos chuckled. "I'm sure we can find something like that around here," he said. “I’ll get you some water anyways.”

With a gentle nod, thanking him, I turned to the horizon, taking the opportunity to glance around the driving range, to take in the sights and sounds of the golfers around us and the white carts driving towards the 18-hole course.

"You're sure you really want to stay here?" I asked, turning my gaze back to him. Carlos had his arm and hand up, calling the attention of a young waitress. "I can go with you all out there, no problem.”

He frowned, shaking his head. "I want to stay here.”

“If you’re here just because I was complaining about the heat, we—”

“I’m here because I want to,” he paused, “and because Marjorie forced us to promise we would teach you two how to play.”

I twitched my mouth. "So you're really committed to that?"

"As much as you are to learning," he said with a wink, to which I just rolled my eyes.

“I think you’re mistaken. I just download two eBooks before coming here.” He laughed at my words.

The waiter eventually came over and Carlos ordered two fresh bottles of water and a mojito. The moment the girl left, he turned to me with palpable excitement. In his hands stood one of the clubs he’d grabbed from my backpack and, with a flourish, he passed it to me. I couldn't help but laugh.

“Wait,” I said and his gaze almost automatically looked up to meet mine. “Is all of this because I once called you professor?” I teased, whirling the club around in my hands. “Have you been dreaming about it ever since?”

Fighting a reaction, he just shook his hand towards the centre of the green patch ahead of us. “Come here,”  he ordered as he laid one ball on the tee, his voice holding some sense of authority. “Let’s start with the basics,” his hand motioned to the space between him and the ball. “Show me what you remember.”

My feet quickly took the same route his feet did before, making me stand between him and the small white sphere. Despite getting so close to him, close enough to hear the murmur of his breath, Carlos didn’t move.

“Can I help you with this?”

“Sure,” I said. Saddled with the pressure of his hands that quickly travelled to mine, I felt the warmth of his chest and the embrace his arms wrapped me in. After correcting my hands, he put both of his on the sides of my waist, moving them slightly. “You just need to bend the knees a bit more,” he indicated and my body responded with ease.

Carlos stepped away and moved closer to the bench. Enough to give me space, but close enough to me to remind me he was still here, which didn’t soothe my whole self still, which was left in disarray from the previous proximity. The wind blew gently, carrying with it the fresh scent of the ocean and the newly cut grass. Carlos's specs, perched atop his head, didn't prevent the breeze from lifting up the locks of his hair, blowing them back from his forehead.

“Relax the shoulders,” he instructed and with a nod, I shook my arms slightly, releasing the tension. “Go at it.”

Copying Marjorie’s gestures and recalling the lessons from my father years ago, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, feeling my body align with the club before I took a swing, the sound of the ball hitting the tee filling the air. I opened my eyes and saw the ball flying far away from me and my companions, who were cheering me on from the sidelines.

“Not bad,” the Spaniard said, passing by me to get another ball from the bucket. “Almost a natural at this.” He laid it at my feet and got up. “Next time, try to be focused on the ball and not the teacher.”

Something had changed. I couldn’t help but notice a spark of delight in his eyes or a hint of teasing in each of his words. There was a palpable energy between us, one I knew he was feeling too. I opened my lips to talk, a comeback already on the tip of my tongue, but with a sudden jolt, the sound of Marjorie’s club impacting the ball made him turn away.

"Oh my god!" She shouted, her eyes widening in amazement as the ball sailed across the sky, seemingly flying away. "Babe, do you see how far it went? Eva! Carlos! Did you see that?" She looked at me, then at Carlos.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Marjorie's joy. "That was good!" I said. "But don't get too cocky. I'm sure I can make my ball go farther than yours," I winked at her and turned to Carlos. "Make me better at this."

The Spaniard raised an eyebrow, lips shaping into a confused smile. He looked around and all it took was to look at Rio, whose expression instigated him to join in, for Carlos to shift his own. "Now you're interested?”

"As you said the other day,” Marjorie patted Carlos on the arm, as she walked towards the bucket of balls laying at Carlos’ feet. “All it takes is a bit of competition and Eva gets motivated."

He chuckled; a deep, throaty sound that made me smile. “I can see that. The goal is beating Marjorie?”

I shrugged. “The goal is to not totally suck at this.”

Carlos walked over to me, his strides were more conscious and assertive than before. “You beat Marjorie, you decide how, where and when to celebrate your victory. If she wins, we have dinner tonight.” I raised my eyebrow.

“How does that sound?” His eyes searched mine for an answer.

I met him head-on. “I can get behind that.”

“Good,” he seemed satisfied with my response, giving me only a gentle nod before gesturing towards the ball. Carlos stepped back, close enough so I could still hear his instructions and corrections, but far enough from the angle of my movements.

Glancing at the couple in front of me, I saw Rio move away from Marjorie and walk towards Carlos. Marjorie was looking down, holding her stance.

After positioning both hands on the pockets of his shorts, my brother glanced at me. “Ready?” I nodded. “Go ahead, girls.”

For the first time in a while, I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to win. Despite this, my heart beat rapidly in my chest and I wasn’t sure why. I faced the white sphere, my body inching forward. I closed my eyes and swung the club, feeling the tension leave my shoulders as the ball flew through the air. When I opened my eyes, I saw it soaring high, farther than I expected it to go.

With a loud thwack, Marjorie’s ball cut the sky. I wasn’t sure how to react when her ball flew higher and farther than mine. She knew exactly how to react, cheering in delight and wrapping her arms around Rio, who joined her to celebrate.

I glanced over at Carlos, his nose scrunched up as his eyes searched the green mantle in front of us, too bright from the direct sunlight. “That was impressive!” He clapped once, his enthusiasm adorable and contagious. He then raised his hand towards Marjorie, who was still giggling when she raised her hand to high-five him.

God, how can this man make this mildly interesting sport into something actually enjoyable?

“Yours was not bad, Eva,” my brother said, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I had to lift my eyes from where I was already bent down, preparing to place another ball on my tee, to look up at Rio. “But I’m sorry to say, I think this might be the first sport you will fall behind us in.”

I sighed and stood up, adjusting the pleads of my skirt. "Don't push it.”

Carlos chuckled, the sound bringing a sense of calm. "Alright," he said, patting my brother on the back before turning to me. "Ignore him and focus on me.”

Not difficult, I wanted to say.

Once again, he positioned himself behind me, this time not asking anything before his hands settled on my waist. I felt a slight shift as he adjusted my posture, the sensation of his fingers brushing against the skin of my thigh through the fabric of the cotton skirt.

"I don't think I need any more help," I said, my voice quiet, but he still remained close, his presence a tangible reminder of the tension that lingered in the air.

“I do,” a pause. He patted my thigh with two fingers. “Spread your legs.”

Oh.

Carlos was closer than I anticipated, his words brushed against my earlobe and set on fire a darker side of my mind that was awakened by that command. I complied; what else could I do? I would have taken over the world if he had asked me to.

“A bit more,” his fingers continued there. Then, he patted my skin once again. “Perfect. Now, your grip,” he continued. His voice was so stern and unwavering, I almost felt anger at his composure in this situation. Carlos moved his hands, now firmly on top of mine as he corrected the angle of my fists. “Keep them like this when you lean forward. Don’t bend them back like you were doing before.”

And he stepped back.

The scent of sandalwood vanished and the comfort of his chest departed with it.

It felt cold even under the almost 30-degree sun.

I leaned forward, turning my face in his direction, looking for his approval. Before giving me a slight nod, he regarded me for a couple of seconds. His eyes were set away from my face and not quite on my hands. Was he looking at me? At my ass?

“Like this?” I asked and his gaze quickly met mine. It was only then that he nodded.

“Keep your grip light, but not too relaxed. You need to have control over the club.” A pause. “Swing once or twice before hitting. Pronto?”

“Pronto,” I answered before shaking my arms and getting into position. “Ready when you are, Marge.”

Marjorie’s ball was the first to take flight, soaring away and disappearing into the bright blue sky. My swing took a few more seconds and, despite all the effort and focus I put into making it a great hit, a high-pitched cheer from my right made it clear that my drive was still not as impressive as hers.

“Closer, but not quite there, yet,” Rio said, a playful smile on his face as he glanced over at me. “If we hang around here for the rest of the day you'll eventually get the hang of it.” He paused and I turned around to go have a sip of the mojito waiting for me at a small table. “Or you just suck at this and no time in the world will be enough.”

I flipped him off, my lips busy with the straw, sucking in the fresh drink. Rio chuckled at my response and I rolled my eyes in response, a smile tugging at my lips. Carlos stepped forward and took one club from his bag, turning his attention towards Rio.

"Alright, let's see what you’ve got," Sainz said, shaking his head. "You've been talking a lot, but I haven't seen you do anything yet."

Rio's face lit up in response to the challenge, his competitive spirit visible in the way he stepped up to his bag and took one of the clubs. His strides were confident when he walked towards the tee, face scrunched up in intense focus.

With a steady swing, he hit the ball and it flew far into the horizon. He let out a satisfied “Ha!” before turning to his best friend.

“Show me what you got, Chili,” my brother said with a victorious grin on his lips.

Carlos raised his eyebrows, his expression one of amusement. "Sure you don't want to give me any advice?"

Rio shrugged and Marjorie walked towards me, taking one of the bottles of water the waitress had left near her stuff. As I focused on my sister-in-law, the banter from the guys filled the background. She sat on my bench and crossed her legs.

“You seem excited,” she said, her hand aligned with her eyebrows as she tried to look at me, positioned between her and the sun.

“You’re wrong. I’m being humiliated,” I chuckled and as a loud thwack filled the air, I looked back to see Carlos’ ball cross the sky. He winked at me before turning back to Rio.

Rio gave a low whistle, his eyes still on the horizon, and shook his head in wonderment. "That was some good stuff," he said in admiration. I turned back to Marjorie, but Rio’s words made me pay attention to him once more. "You found yourself a good teacher, sis. If only he was as good at teaching as he is at playing…”

Rio's words lingered in the air and I felt a sudden tension arise between Carlos and me. I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed for the way my brother had said it, but, as it seemed to be the norm, Carlos appeared unfazed.

"Eva is a tough one to teach," he gestured to the tee area. I left the mojito on its coaster and grabbed my club before walking towards him, ready to find out what he had in store for me. "She's a bit stiff, you know?" He continued, tapping my arms with his fingers. "These arms," he added, poking them gently, "and these abs," he continued, poking the sides of my waist, making me giggle due to the ticklish sensation. "They need work. She’s been lazy."

Marjorie looked at us with a crease between her brows and then at Rio with a more confused expression. Ana was also looking over at us and even from a distance, I could notice her confusion. The corners of my mouth instantly turned up in a self-conscious smile and I straightened my posture, still trying to process the giggle that had just escaped my lips.

Carlos, seemingly unaware of the commotion he had caused, guided me to the centre of the tee area and stepped back. He corrected some flaws he had noticed in my stance. “Three more hits. Make me proud,” he said

My heart fluttered at the challenge and I nodded in agreement, my mind set on not totally sucking at this game. If I couldn’t beat Marjorie, I wanted to be almost there. After another deep breath and a swing of the club, my eyes fixed on the ball as it flew away. When I opened them, the ball was soaring high and I let out a victorious hoot.

"That's more like it!" Carlos said, clapping his hands in approval. "Again."

I repositioned myself onto the tee, feeling a renewed sense of determination. My feet moved in place, adrenaline rushing from the handle and taking me whole. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and swung the club with all my might. The sound of the club hitting the ball filled the air and when I opened my eyes, I saw the ball flying far away from me.

"That was a great hit!" Carlos said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. He stepped forward and patted my back, his hand lingering for a few seconds. "Last one. It’s all or nothing.”

My determination was evident in my stance, but I gave him a gentle nod before I bent over to pull another ball from the bucket. The Spaniard stepped back, siding with Rio who, just like him, had his arms crossed over his chest. While Marjorie arranged her hat, tidying up the ginger strands of hair under the white brim, I adjusted the band of my skirt around my waist.

The faux leather glove was not comfortable and my hand was sweaty under the warm material.

“Ready?” Marjorie looked over her shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” I gave her a tiny smile.

All the distractions faded away, vanishing from my mind as my gaze fixed on the end of the field ahead of me. My arms felt relaxed yet in control. My focus was on the ball and the horizon and not on Carlos’ arms, which had been around me moments ago. Not on his low, warm voice against my ear. Not on his hands, on top of mine, handling me like a doll.

Joder.

Marjorie had already hit her ball and I was still there, my mind so preoccupied with pushing away all the distractions that the main one made me freeze in place.

Focus, Eva.

I took a deep breath and shook my arms, trying to get rid of the tension, but I was too deeply immersed in the warm comfort his presence had evoked in my body and the traps my subconscious had set up for me.

Maybe I never intended to win. The look on Carlos' face, the undertone in his eyes when he saw my ball fall into the grass and noticed Marjorie had won, giving him the privilege to control our night, made me wonder why I had even tried.

                                                        * 

“Olivia is asking for you,” Marjorie sat to my right, on one of the foldable chairs me and Rio had carried to the pier some day before. She handed me the phone, where my niece’s face was plastered into.

“Tia Eva!” Olivia, my three-year-old niece said, her hands extended to the screen and a huge smile on her tiny face, revealing her imperfect denture. Adorable.

"Hi there, baby," I said, waving to the camera. "Where's Grace?"

My mom, holding the phone behind the camera, pointed it to the other side of the room. There, my niece was sitting on the floor, playing with a pile of books. I chuckled, my heart melting at the sight.

"Are you two behaving?" I asked. My niece answered with two nods of her head, making her pigtails swing. "Is Grammie behaving too?"

She scrunched her nose and looked over the camera, probably at my mom. "Grammie gave us ice cream from the store.” After speaking, she quickly brought up her finger to her lips. “Don't tell Mom."

From behind the camera, my mother asked the same thing. Marjorie, just two steps away, had already heard it. Ignoring her mad face, I turned my attention to the little girl on the screen.

“Can you give a kiss to Grace for me?” Olivia's face lit up with a smile and she got up from the floor. “Liv, you don’t need to— Okay, you’re doing it now.”

Reaching Grace, Olivia got on her knees and planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead, whose face instantly brighten up. "Fatto!” She screamed from afar.

A shadow fall on my back and when I looked down to the corner of the screen to see who was shielding me from the sun, my eyes met Carlos' grinning face. His head was hovering just above mine.

“Hola, señoritas,” Carlos said with a warm smile and the two faces on the screen shifted to meet his gaze. “Your papa told me you asked about me. Here I am.”

“Chili!” Olivia shouted, while Grace just jumped in her place. Liv, the most easygoing of the two got closer to the screen, the excitement in her voice growing louder with each step. “Papá said your house is big and you have a boat, and a pool, and the whole sea.”

Carlos gave a hearty chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's true," he said, nodding his head in affirmation while taking the phone out of my hands. "But we’re not having much fun. This it's nothing compared to when I visit."

Grace shook her head, still seated in the back. “Grammie doesn’t have a boat,” she murmured with a sigh, her eyes wide with amazement.

My gaze turned to Marjorie, who was just smiling at the image of Carlos with her phone in his hand, walking around the pier and showing the Riva yacht to the twins. He seemed to be convincing them that we were not having too much fun and it was evident that he was succeeding in his mission.

“Does he visit a lot?” I asked Marjorie, my back meeting the back of the foldable chair again.

Her clear eyes drifted from the Spaniard and turned back to me. "Almost every time he’s at home." She paused and looked back at the image of Carlos, her voice softening. "They are crazy for him."

He smiled and his gaze shifted to me. His expression softened and I felt a warmth embrace me that I hadn't felt in a long time.

"I got that idea at my mom’s birthday party,” I said, still following his strides over the pier, the adorable sight and sound of his excited voice talking to the twins. “When I saw them so comfortably waking and being around him, Olivia’s tiny hand on his hair… my heart melted.”

“Of envy or—”

“Don’t be stupid,” she laughed and I hit her on the arm.

Marjorie turned her chair to me. I didn’t need to be a psychic to guess what she was about to say. “You’re getting along well,” and there it was. I rolled my eyes. “Although you almost tricked me last night, kissing the German guy.”

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that," I said, my gaze on Carlos and my attention on the sound of his voice carrying over. He was telling the twins a story, his intonation and gestures making it more vivid. Blue shorts, with tiny single-seaters printed on them, and a rose gold iPhone in his hand.

A gentle tug at my arm distracted me. I turned in Marjorie’s direction, only to find her smiling at me.

"You have to admit," she said, a soft glint in her eyes. "He's pretty charming."

And if it was a movie and he was aware of his cues, he laughed at something and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Carlos had a way of making everything seem so easy.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked her, “Why this sudden interest? Last Friday you were asking me to ignore him the whole week because you needed, and I quote, a nice drama-free week with your dearest hubby.”

She sighed. “I’ve seen the way you both look at each other and last night… I could have been drunk, but I clearly noticed how pissed he got when he saw you with the other guy.”

“His name is Uwe,” I added.

“Him,” she shrugged. “The second I saw Carlos’ face… I knew you were not telling me your whole story.”

I cleared my throat and tried to shake away the sudden feeling of being exposed, of the truth being unveiled. "Marjorie," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "We are just friends."

Her eyebrow raised and she gave me a knowing smile. "Right," she said, her voice softening. "That's what you two keep saying." She looked over at Carlos, her gaze lingering a bit too long, before turning back to me with a knowing smile. "The way you look at each other, though…” she let out a long, dramatic sigh. “The eyes, chica, they don’t lie.”

“Ugh,” I grunted, defeated, dragging my hands over my face. “You’re so annoying. What do you want me to say?”

Marjorie's gaze softened and she smiled. "I'm not asking you to say anything. Just be honest with yourself." She gestured to Carlos, who was still playing with the twins and nodded her head in his direction. "Look at him. What do you see?"

I sighed, my gaze still fixed on Carlos. He was holding the phone in one hand and the other was now in his hair. With slow steps, he approached my brother and sat by his side under the shade of the gazebo, the phone in front of them both.

“A devilishly handsome man in ridiculous swimming trunks talking on the phone with two toddlers and somehow sounding more childish than them.”

Marjorie smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "What I heard was: a man who, despite his tough exterior and terrible communication skills, is a gentle and caring soul who understands you, loves your family like his own, and is willing to put in effort for you.”

She looked at me with a victorious grin.

“Manipulative bitch,” I whispered under my breath, a comment to which she responded with a strident laugh.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” Marjorie asked me with a playful glint in her eyes. She leaned back in her chair, the sun playing with her red hair, making it look like a flaming halo around her head.

“I think you do,” I said, my lips curving into a smile. “But it doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she said, her voice softening. “Now go talk to him.”

“Later,” I said, standing up and fixing the strings of my swimsuit. “We’re having dinner together.”

And before I turned around to make my way to the gazebo to talk with my brother who was, once again, alone, I had the opportunity to witness the almost impeccable “o” shape that Marjorie's lips had formed.

The sun was still high, but the dusky colours of the sunset were already starting to paint the firmament. My eyes scanned the surroundings as I traced the cement of the pier, the small rocks and the sand hurting the bare skin of my feet. I missed these long sunsets and the easy-going life by the sea. The casual conversations, the banter, the small routine we’d constructed for ourselves.

It was all so easy.

The warmth of the setting sun and the sound of the waves against the pier were the perfect background melody to the conversations that so easily flowed. My brother’s laughter mingled perfectly with the engine of the jetskis roaring in the distance. I touched his shoulder before sitting on an empty chair in front of him.

Carlos, sitting next to him, raised his eyes from his phone, his lips forming a faint smile. Marjorie’s iPhone was now balancing on Rio’s leg.

"Did they finally let you go?" He frowned, not quite understanding the question at first before realisation dawned on him.

"Your mother had to bribe them with ice cream, actually," he said, taking a sip of the Estrella Galicia he was holding in his other hand. "I'm sorry for stealing them away from you; I didn’t let you finish talking."

"Oh, don't worry about it,” I raised my hands, shanking them in front of me. “I talk to them every day, it's no big deal."

A gentle nod of the head and a raspy sound came from Rio, who cleared his throat. “Are you finally filling me up about the email I got from Dad?”

I paused for a moment. “Email? Actually, Dad’s why I came here.”

“Do you need me to—” Carlos stepped forward, pointing at the sea before standing up and taking Marjorie’s iPhone from Rio’s leg. “I’ll take this to Marjorie,” he said, his voice calm and assured. His eyes then shifted to me. “Can you be ready in one hour?”

Rio’s confusion was evident, as his eyes moved between the two of us. “For what?”

I shook my head in response, my eyes going back to Carlos, already walking towards Marjorie. “Not at all. Where are we going?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as Carlos continued his journey towards Marjorie.

My brother seemed to notice the lack of response, looking between the two of us in confusion. “Where are you two going?”

Carlos only responded with a simple command. “Just grab a sweater then,” he told me. “I’ll be back soon.”

A feeling of uncertainty filled me as I watched him disappear down the corridor, leaving Rio and me behind. With his back now facing me in the shadow, I could see in full resolution the muscles glistening under the sun, the soft breeze lifting the dark strands of his hair up in the air. He sat where I was sitting a minute ago and before I could pay attention to what he was saying to Marjorie, Rio called for me.

I turned to him. “I don’t know either.”

But God, how I was dying to know.

"So then," he gestured with his hand. "The email…?”

“Right,” I exhaled and sat upright. “What email?”

“Dad sent me an email. You apparently want a meeting with Deborah Mayer?”

“I don’t know if it’s a fit, but The Iron Dames seem like a good first step to reenter the scene,” Rio nodded. “I’m looking at F3, too. I need to do something. Find a place. They can help.”

“Oh,” he moved in his seat, his hands landing on the armrests of the beach chair. “F3? Dad won’t like that. He started to ramble about you’re seat at WEC, and—”

“Rio,” my brother looked at me. “Don’t ask me why, but I want to do something. I want to do something. And I don’t care if Dad is behind me on it, but I can’t feel like this while racing. I’ve spent the last year trying to understand why I feel so… lost. I love the team, I loved The Challenge, but that was not what I was fighting for.”

“F3 is?”

“F1 is.” I paused. “F3 is the first step.”

“Eva, you’re aiming high…” he started. “I get it. You need to find your passion again. But are you sure this is the right move?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“And if he says no?”

“Why would he?”

We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound of the sea lazily kissing the shore. I thought about my father and his expectations for me. Wondered what he said in the email he apparently sent to Rio. At that point, I hadn’t heard anything from my father after my text. I can’t complain about him. Dad had always been supportive of my racing career, but he also had his own agenda. He wanted me to be a champion and win races. “You either win or lose.” I heard him say time and time again. But racing wasn’t just about winning. Racing is not just about winning—it is about the thrill of the competition, the rush of adrenaline, and the feeling of being alive.

Rio knows that.

"I know it's a risk. And it could be a waste of money. And could go terribly wrong but—”

“Breath,” my brother said. Understanding writing in his eyes. “I get it. I was there once.”

“What did Dad say in the email?”

“It’s not worth it to repeat,” his lips drew a fragile smile. "It sounds like you've decided.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his Estrella Galicia. “What do you need me to say?”

The corner of my lip kicked up in a subtle way and his did the same, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know… just that typical big brother stuff. You can always call me, you’re capable of that and so much more… I'll be by your side no matter what… " I said with a shrug, gesturing with my hands, imitating his Italian gestures that, for some reason, he had picked up from my dad to a degree that I hadn't managed. He chuckled softly, as though he had been privy to my thoughts.

Rio's eyes softened and he gave me a small nod of approval. "Of course, I will," he said. "You know I'm always here for you, Eva. Besides," he added. "I'm sure Carlos would be a great help too."

“I don’t want to go there…”

“What I mean is that he’s always been a great support for you before. You work well together, or— used to. He knows the field. He knows the people. He can help. Mayer can help you, but I’m sure you can also find some support in Ferrari. You’ve won their championship… But don't forget—Carlos is the one who got you interested in the sport in the first place." He paused and gave me a pointed look. "And he's the one who has been in the industry for years. He can give you great advice. Don’t be too stubborn. Use the help, open as many doors as you can." He reached over and squeezed my hand gently. "And you know I'm always here for you, too.” He paused. “See? I can do the big brother bullshit too.”

“So caring,” with an eye roll, I gently slapped his hand. “So, you think I won’t fuck this up?”

"You? Fuck it up? Nah, never," he shook his head and gave me a reassuring smile. "You got this."

The words lingered in the air for a while and I was at a loss for what to say. Motorsport-wise, Rio had been my rock ever since the first day I set foot on the track. Carlos had been there with him too, clutching my hand and making me laugh on our way home when things didn’t go as I expected them to.

Both of them had been there for more than ten years, supporting me on and off track. Better, we’ve been there for each other. And even if I’d lost a major pillar somewhere along the way, which hurt like hell, we were collectively working on rebuilding it.

A wave of gratitude washed over me when I laid my eyes on my brother. Reaching out, I grabbed his hand.

“Thank you,” I let out. “I’m sorry for not making it easier for you to have this same conversation with me months ago.”

Rio shook his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "It's okay. It's all part of growing up, I guess." He glanced around the pier, taking in the sight of the sun setting, the laughter of the others, and the feeling of warmth that filled the air. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I knew the island air would help you figure out a thing or two.”

The corner of my lips tugged up in a gentle smile as I looked at my brother, my hand still in his. On my palms, the warmth of his skin spelt a confirmation of his presence and companionship. I knew he was right from the moment I’d stepped on that plane.

Ever since then, I was invited to see the world from a new perspective and new paths unravelled in front of me. Whether I’d chosen to trace the right ones, I was yet to discover, but at least, I felt ready to try.

                                                        * 

The sun was still high, but the dusky colours of the sunset were already starting to paint the horizon. The wind was gentle and it brought the smell of the sea to my nose and played with my hair, which caressed my face.

My eyes scanned the surroundings as I traced the cement of the pier, the small rocks and the sand hurting the bare skin of my feet. I sat on the pier, my legs hanging down from it, toes pointed at the water, being kissed by the occasional splashes Rio provoked, riding Carlos’ electric surfboard a few feet away.

My brother’s contagious laughter mingled with Marjorie’s screams of joy, as she cheered him from a smaller boat owned by the Sainz. The other four accompanied her—Ana filming Rio, as he crossed the mirror of water effortlessly. I closed my eyes, my entire being encapsulated in that moment, and attempted to block out the nerves.

Carlos’ yacht, a gleaming beauty, moored in front of me. Its brown hull shone brightly in the sunlight and gentle waves kissed its shell. I just waited, impatient. My heart raced in my chest, filling me with a warmth that had nothing to do with the setting sun.

Every couple of minutes, I glanced at the other end of the pier, scanning the backyard and trying to see in between the branches of the trees, trying to spot him. Carlos had texted before I left my room, after brushing my wet, salty hair and exchanging my sun dress with wet patches around my breasts and sand trapped in the cotton fibres for a new, cleaner one.

“Wait for me at the pier. I’m a little late,” he had written.

And despite the fact that I’d replied to him with a breezy “No problems!”, I had a lot of problems.

It was Carlos who I was meeting, for a date at sunset, probably in his yacht, to discuss the feelings none of us seemed capable of wanting to hide or deny. My sixteen-year-old self would be dying for something remotely like this. That thought alone made me smile.

Raising my head and turning it to my right, once more wishing to end this waiting game, my eyes finally caught a glimpse of a man. Bare feet on the grass, a white t-shirt and navy blue trunks with the white Formula Ones printed on them, a brown wicker basket in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other.

I got up, my eyes never leaving the flowers and the man carrying them.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help but smile as I watched Carlos approach me, a gentle breeze lifting his dark hair, his eyes twinkling.

"I’m so sorry, it took more time than I was expecting," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. He extended the bouquet of daisies in my direction. "I brought you these.”

I took the bouquet with my free hand. The other one was too busy clenching the fabric of my jumper.

"Thank you," I said, my lips curving into a smile as I brought the bouquet closer, inhaling its sweet scent. “What took you so long? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He raised the basket he was holding and crossed the distance between the pier and the yacht. “The food.” Carlos left the basket on one of the seats and came back to the end of the boat with his hand extended to me. “I thought we could enjoy a picnic at sea.”

My hand felt so light when I found his touch. His fingers wrapped around my hand so gently and effortlessly and he helped me get in. Then, his hands travelled to my waist, navigating me around. I laid down the flowers on top of the basket, the sweater on the back of one of the seats and leaned against it while Carlos got the boat ready.

Of everything I’d imagined for our dinner, this was not it. This was romantic.

The flowers and the wicker basket. The sweater and the breeze that became more chilly with each passing second. The smell of the food and the pastel colours that the sunset was bringing into the atmosphere. All of that transported me into a dream.

After undoing one more set of ropes and throwing them to the pier, where they fell with a silent thud, he turned to me and motioned to the seat in front, beside the one in front of the helm. I settled in before he reached the helm.

Carlos glanced at me before turning the key on the ignition. The engine roared to life, the vibrations rippling through the air, shaking up the loaded atmosphere. It felt so dumb. I felt dumb. I couldn’t look at his hands, steering the boat, without it bringing my whole body to the edge of self-combustion. To worsen my condition, I dared to look at his face.

Pure joy and excitement radiated from him. His clenched jaw and focused frown softened as the boat picked up speed and we cut the water with ease, away from the Sainz’s backyard. When I remembered to look back, the house was a blur and my friends were tiny dots in the sea.

Carlos was the only subject I could focus on.

The warmth of the sun soaked into my bones. The sky was painted with a beautiful hazy pink and pastel orange. Everything was bathed in a soft golden aura, my mind included. I smiled to myself, feeling so at peace with the world.

My anticipation dissipated as we were carried away by the motions of the boat.

The orange pastels reminded me of a drunk man and his words.

And the feelings he so easily brings out of me.

And the idea that if we were to fall, at least we would fall together.

Two high cliffs rose majestically to our left. The sun slowly set to the right, painting a beautiful tapestry in the sky with its golden hues, even if it was still far from touching the water.

It was magical.

The roar of the engine. The colours. The company.

Carlos cut the engine and the boat slowed down, the silence an eerie sound in the background. I allowed myself to take it in. My eyes roamed around the land, the steep cliffs and the houses planted by the sea, taking in the light, like lazy cats under the sun.

My attention was drawn by the man next to me, who took a step away from the helm and turned to me. The corner of my lips curled up into a small smile when I saw him sitting on one of the seats, back turned to the cliffs and eyes focused on me.

My fingers covered my face, my only shield against his piercing gaze. “Stop that, Sainz.”

He chuckled. “I’m literally just sitting here.”

I shook my head and laughed in response. "You know what I mean," I said. I took a deep breath and sighed. "It's really pretty around here," I said, my voice soft and my gaze turned towards the cliffs.

"Yes, it is," Carlos said softly, his eyes still on me. He paused for a moment before continuing. "The perfect place for a date, I'd say." His voice was light and teasing, but his eyes were serious like he was daring me to contradict him.

“This is not a date, though. Just a dinner.” The curve of his lips grew bigger and his grin wider. “But I know what you mean. Couldn’t be better.”

“Shall we eat?” Carlos suggested, getting up.

My eyes slowly drifted to the basket and the flowers on top of it. The bouquet was strewn around by the wind, its petals scattered, yet somehow still creating an organized chaos of its own. Carlos gently laid it on the white cushion of the seat and picked up the basket, carrying it to the back of the boat, where I watched him, still in silence. He then sat on the aqua-blue sun bed and motioned for me to join him.

Trying to be careful not to disturb his careful arrangement, I tip-toed around him and settled in.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, looking up at him with a smile, eager to be of assistance.

“No, sit and enjoy,” he replied, focused on his task. His eyes didn’t even lift to find me.

Wine, two stemless glasses, grapes, croissants and cinnamon rolls. In his hands, a glass container with figs and honey. He arranged the items carefully around the small linen towel he had spread, before unpacking the basket. My eyes followed each and every one of the movements.

“I didn't want to put pressure on you to get ready for a fancy restaurant, but I also didn't want to settle for a basic dinner,” he explained, holding up the bottle of wine. “Wine?” He offered with a hopeful smile.

“Oh, yes, please,” I replied, sliding my glass closer to him. Carlos quickly grabbed the corkscrew from the basket and opened the bottle of wine with ease, before filling in my glass. “Where did you get all of this?”

“The market from the other day. Went there to pick up some fruit and found a lovely bakery. I had to wait a long time for the croissants, though.” He filled his glass, as well. Only then I took mine to my lips. “They were still in the oven when I got there.”

“That way I can apologize to you for being late,” he looked at me, a small chuckle coming through his thick lips. Laying down the glass on the towel, I took another bite of the pastry. “These are so good.” I looked at the small croissant in my hands, and then back to him, again. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at me attentively, lips shaped in a smile. “You should go and get them for breakfast tomorrow as well,” I teased.

“Eh!” I chuckled in response to the indignation in his tone. “Don’t push it.”

"I'm just making a suggestion," I held my hands in front of me in defence and then extended my hands to grab a piece of cheese, which I popped into my mouth. Then, I took another sip of the wine. The fruity notes of the rosé filled my mouth. “Hum…” I swirled the wine around my mouth; so familiar.

“Good?” He asked, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

“I know this one,” I reached for the bottle and read the label in front of the peony-pink liquid. “You’re getting better at picking bottles!”

"Yeah, I thought you'd like this one," he said, scooping a spoonful of the figs and honey. "I finally paid attention to your dad's lessons.”

"Really?" Carlos nodded in response, his eyes softening as he savoured the figs. I couldn't help but notice the way his lips glistened with honey, reflecting the light of the sun. “I’ll remember to tell him that.”

I turned my gaze away from him, towards the water and the cliffs towering behind him.

The atmosphere was so light that our words didn’t linger around us; instead, the conversation flowed like the breeze. We made our way through the food and the bottle of wine, getting lost in time and the casual conversation. The pastries were the central point of our interest, baked by the sweet old lady that owned a store not too far away from the house, which she had even wrapped in a pretty box for us. Carlos had left the box inside the basket, but just glancing at the small carton box and the purple ribbon around it made me smile.

Not because I was scared to touch the subject, but because I didn’t want to burst the bubble, we refrained from talking about anything outside of the contours of the island. We pretended to not know what lay behind the horizon. I thought that perhaps he felt the same feeling I was cradling inside my ribcage, the need to be locked in this private paradise, almost like a fort, shielding us from all of the chaos and uncertainty that was happening outside.

We both allowed ourselves to be swept away by the moment; the sun slowly setting behind us, the food slowly disappearing from the linen towel. We talked, we laughed, and we shared, just like two normal people, away from the eyes of the world, enjoying a moment of pure bliss.

It felt like a dream.

At some point, Carlos leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows, and scanned the sky, staring off into the distance. His eyes moved slowly across the horizon, taking in the setting sun and the array of colours that painted the sky. The light fell on his face, so golden, casting the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks. The soft, cool breeze gently whipped his hair. He must have noticed the way I had been looking at him because when he turned to me, a knowing smirk was on his lips.

"I'm planning on taking you out to a proper dinner, you know?" I raised an eyebrow at that and tried to stop the smile of anticipation from appearing on my lips. "The day you finally let me take you on an official date, I mean," he clarifies nonchalantly and lays lay down completely, the back of his head resting on his hands. "I'll wait.”

“Never thought you would be so patient, Sainz,” I teased while snatching a grape from the cluster in front of me.

The Spaniard smiled and shook his head. "You make it sound like I'm desperate," he laughed. "But I do have some patience." A pause. "I think it has its limits, though.”

My eyes scanned his face, my mind racing with thoughts of the night before. His poor behaviour and the words that had come out of his mouth without a filter. The dim orange light, being mimicked by the sunset now.

Hesitantly, I asked. “Where is the limit, then?” My throat felt so empty and dry, it surprised me that I didn’t stutter. “Did you draw the line at the whiskey and beer or—?”

He cut me off before I could finish, his body rose from the ground. “At the sight of other men holding you,” his voice resonated. I brought my hands to my tights. “I couldn’t stand one more second of that.”

Both of us fell into silence; the song of the waves sang louder around us. There was so much to say, but I just didn’t know where to start. I didn’t want to apologize for what I’d done. Period. But the silence and the image of his eyes growing darker by the second deepened in front of me. He was mad. Hurt, perhaps?

I looked away, finding comfort in the sunset.

Thoughts started piling up, coupled with questions I didn’t know if I wanted to ask. My mind wandered through all of them and I felt like I was lost in a maze, unable to find a way out of the mess we had created around ourselves.

Finally, Carlos broke the silence.

“I know you don’t trust me,” he said and paused. His voice was so deep, almost cracking at the end like his mouth tried to repel that sentence. I’d forgotten about telling him that, but the sad look in his eyes told me he didn’t. He probably remembered the words too brightly and, for the first time, I regretted saying them. “And… I know it’s been hard to have me around,” he leaned his head slightly, eyes dropping to my hands, resting on my tights. My palms started to sweat against the thin fabric of my sundress. His eyes met mine once more, so dark, with a weight sitting heavily above them. “All I can say is that I’m sorry for last night.”

“I—” I couldn't bring myself to say anything; my words were just dumb mumblings, whispers I wasn't sure he could listen to. “Don't—”

If he did listen, he ignored them.

“Also,” his expression was rigid. His eyebrows were drawn together and the deep shadows under them seemed to intensify his gaze. “I'm not going anywhere.” It felt like a promise.

I searched his face for any trace of anger or disappointment but found none. After he spoke, his features softened and a hint of vulnerability pierced through. That subtle hint almost got lost in the firmness of his words. It wouldn’t be fair to shield myself. I shook my head left and right, eyes roaming the sky and the empty bottle of wine, afraid of meeting his. The words disappeared when I thought I had them on the tip of my tongue, the beating of my heart ricocheted inside my heart to the point it seemed unbearable to sustain.

Each word seemed like a corner I was not sure I’d gotten the best line for.

“I didn’t go dance with him to get to you.” was the first thing I brought myself to say. “Maybe I did, in a way. It—” I corrected myself so quickly he didn’t have much time to react. He just nodded, simply nodded. No smile, no… nothing. He just patiently waited. I took a deep breath and cleaned the palms of my hands on my tights. “And the kiss?”

Once again, he frowned.

“I am the same person I was before him. Before he touched me, before he kissed me.” I shrugged. It was simple, in my mind. “Nothing changed with that kiss. But, with you…?” I brought my eyebrows together. How could he not see it? Or feel it? “All it took was to see you. That night, in Mugello… Seeing you…” Words fled again, emotions pilling up inside. “My world shifted in place.”

The air felt heavier, my words weighing down the atmosphere around us but freeing my chest from all the pain. At that moment, I felt myself hovering between two different worlds, blind to reality but too grounded to see ahead. I kept going.

“After all that time, I thought… I thought it was gone. The feelings, the longing… I thought I'd come to terms with the fact that you were no longer a part of my life. But I never did,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I tried to process the emotions running through me. I looked down at my hands, remembering how many times I remembered the night we fell asleep holding hands. How many times I'd wish to have him holding my hand. How many times I’d wished to have him there, just there—under the podium, sitting at the table in the place we'd chosen for him or in the airplane seat we'd booked just in case he could find a way to join us.

The memories hit me like a wave, washing over me with an intensity that I hadn't expected.

“You brought everything back. Good and bad,” I cut off and looked at him, my vision blurred by the tears in my eyes. Rage and pain sided with the fondness I felt for him. “There was no way I could have just kissed you and gone back to living my life like before.”

I hadn't realized Carlos had moved closer until I felt the warmth of his cologne and the weight of his hand on the cushion closer to me. My eyes wandered down to find his big hand next to mine, his fingers not daring to touch my skin. I looked up at him and he opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly raised my hand, asking for just one more second of his attention. His lips closed and his eyes squinted slightly as he waited patiently for me to continue.

My eyes hungrily lingered on his lips, my body fiercely battling against the strong desire to close the distance and kiss him at that very moment. I then looked up again, drawn in by his eyes that seemed to swallow me whole.

"I know it would ruin us if we just kissed.”

And then: silence.

Comfortable, but heavy. I’d let it out. There was nothing holding me back. I’d said it. My mind had finally unravelled itself and God, it felt good. He, though, was still holding everything inside. I could see it in his eyes, searching for mine, almost desperate.

To be honest, I didn’t know what I expected him to say.

But somehow, he knew what I was waiting for.

“Does this make me selfish?” I felt the tingle of his fingertips on my thigh, but I wasn’t able to look anywhere but his eyes. Carlos’ hand travelled up, fingers softly touching my arm, my whole body awakening in response.

“What?” I whispered, my eyes dropping for a second to look at his hand.

He waited for me to look up at him. Then, he answered. “Wanting you this badly.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say or do anything and the mere idea of looking away from him seemed wrong. His gaze held me captive, never leaving mine. Carlos gently took my chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes darted downwards to my lips.

His thumb traced small circles near my bottom lip, each one coming closer. I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, making my heart flutter in anticipation. His thumb slid through the extension of my lip, coaxing it open, and I found myself gazing into his eyes, longing for him.

“Eva,” I closed my eyes for a brief moment, my head tilting at the sweet sound that was my name coming out of his mouth. “I don’t care how much I want you, how much I want this,” he stared hungrily at my mouth. I swallowed dry. “I won’t do anything that could taint a moment I’ve been waiting for so long.” He paused. “Years, Eva. I’ve been waiting for years. I can wait a couple more weeks.”

“No,” my hands wrapped around his forearm, holding it in place, reacting against the idea of losing that touch. “Don’t wait any longer,” I heard my own voice, yet it felt distant and unfamiliar.

Something shifted in his eyes. The sensation of his fingertips became warmer, the sensation of his heartbeat against my fingertips became more tangible and all of a sudden, I was more aware of myself and everything he made me feel—the effortless feeling of belonging, the immoral desperation he awakened inside me.

Dear God, how much I needed him.

My lips eagerly accepted his, driven by a need like no other. I needed him like water, like salvation for my desperate soul. The kiss was so gentle, but it still sent ripples of electricity through my body. So slow. Patient. Passionate. I felt my body tremble as his touch swept into my very being—the warmth of his lips and the brush of his tongue, the hands that so quickly travelled to find my waist and pull me closer, the inebriating effect of him. Purely him.

“Are we ruined yet?” He whispered against my lips.

“Not yet,” I felt him smile. My chest imploded on itself. “Kiss me again.”

“Gladly.”

With no hesitation, the distance between us was once again bridged. The intensity grew – his hands moved with urgency, pulling me into his lap, and mine followed suit, mapping a trajectory from his chest, along his shoulders, to the nape of his head and hooking around it, craving the intimacy of his proximity, of his touch.

I felt dizzy with the delight of being lost in his embrace.

And although it seemed like an eternity, one so easy to bear, I could only hope for it to be prolonged even more. Time seemed to stand still and the world around us faded away as I felt his lips tenderly brush against my own again and again. His hands were like a vice, holding me close as his tongue began to explore my body, from my mouth to my neck, tracing his way across my collarbones. His tongue was like velvet against my skin.

When we parted and I looked at him, a newfound intensity shone in his eyes. Carlos held me close, his thumb caressing my cheek softly, his eyes wandering from my eyes to my lips and then back to my eyes again. A gaze so intense, so powerful it could permeate through the barriers of my mind and read my thoughts.

Take me, I wanted to say. Make me yours.

Instead, I begged him in silence, eyes on his, while my fingers cruised towards the neck of his t-shirt and pulled it off in an exasperated attempt to fulfil the wishes I couldn’t bring myself to comprehend.

He was there, flesh and bone; his cologne inebriating me, his lips adoring my skin, his hands taking ownership of my body. But I needed more. As I glimpsed his bare chest, I couldn’t help but reach out and let my fingertips meet the tanned sculpted skin and slide them through it. So warm, almost burning.

Carlos kissed my shoulder, his lips making a trail along my neck and fingers pulling down the strands of the dress, which gracefully fell on my lap. Patiently, his hands traced the curves of my body, stopping when he reached my ass and, groping it, he pressed me against him. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he slowly moved his hand lower to my tights wrapped around him, tracing the curves of my hip, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

And then up again, roaming the line of my spine, stopping when his fingers met the string of my bikini. I slid my hair across my left shoulder, halting the golden waves from disturbing him.

His fingers left my back.

The tension of the string lessened.

A cocky smile appeared on his flushed lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

“No.”

His eyes sparkled and his tongue wavered on his lips. I moved my hips in his lap, my hands on his biceps and slowly making their way towards his back.

“Neither do I, love. I wanna kiss every single inch of your skin,” he breathed the words on my skin. His lips moved to my neck, tasting me and pushing me further into him; in response, my body quivered and the grip of my fingers on his skin intensified.

The idea of marking his perfectly sculptured back made the arousal in me intensify to new heights; just thinking about it made my hips move on their own. God, how desperate. A moan slid through my lips when I felt him harden under me. He grunted, hands groping my ass and incentivising my movements.

“You smell so good,” I breathed in as his words met the skin of my chest. The faint touch of his nose traced lines on my chest until he stopped in the middle of my breasts. “I bet you taste even better.”

A breath escaped my lips when he eagerly grabbed my breast, slightly groping it before his thumb swiped away the fabric. My chest rose and fell with every brush of his lips against the skin that he so softly kissed. I slid my hands up to his hair after I untied the knot of the bikini at my back and removed my top.

My head fell back, taking in the last light of the day; lips parted, eyes closed. Fingers lost in the soft strands of his hair, holding his face closer to my chest. The waves roaring around us fell into silence as they rocked us into oblivion. From my lips, a whisper escaped —his name, in a way I'd never pronounced it before and my breath hitched when his tongue, moist and warm, reached my nipple. My voice was so light, it felt heavenly in my own ears. The grunt he let out confirmed to me that it had resonated in the same way with him.

“Eva,” I looked down, heart pounding in my chest. He was looking at me, eyes so dark they made me whimper.

“Hm?”

“We can’t do this, cariño. I wasn’t counting on this,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure.

His hands, now planted on the small of my back, sent a wave of warmth through me. I tilted my head. The idea of stepping back after feeling his body pressed against mine, after having a glimpse of what it would be like, was too much to bear. Almost incomprensible.

I just shook my head. “I’m—” I stumbled in my words, unable to ignore the feeling of his arousal against me. “We can… work it out, I guess.”

I wanted to explore the urgency and the energy that seemed to control us so effortlessly and find out where it could lead us. My lips met his once more and Carlos offered no resistance. On the contrary – his hands wrapped around my body once again. My own anticipation was building as I moved my hips in circles on his lap; his chest heaving in response.

It was too tempting to resist.

“Joder,” he said softly, his grip on my ass growing tight. “You’re going to make me cum in my trunks if you keep doing that.” His words were filled with a desire that I could feel in every inch of my body as if it was radiating from him.

“Ask me to stop, then.” Don’t. “I will.”

He closed his eyes and his hands moved to my waist, encircling it in a tight embrace as if to keep me still. I wanted him to let me keep going, to let me come on his lap and collapse into his chest. I tilted my head and looked at him, my confusion growing as I studied his countenance. He cupped my face after opening his eyes and I saw within them a myriad of emotions - darkness, strength; an almost lividness.

"I think I might be ruined," he said with a hint of resignation in his voice, but I could also sense an underlying tone of defiance, as if he didn't care what the consequences might be.

The world spun around me as he turned me around, laying my back on the sunbed. He stood as a silhouette against the sunset, his face nothing but intense shadows traced with gold. His lips met mine again and this time it was nothing like before. It was violent and passionate, full of hunger and desire, a wave of lust that swept away everything that was left in my mind.

Our bodies were a mess of passion and desire, too caught up in the moment to truly appreciate what we had. The feelings and emotions that had been stored inside me for so long were now being released, like a raging fire that threatened to consume me whole. The same energy was emanating from him; his hands and lips clung to me with the same intensity I wanted to plunge in myself.

I drowned in the moment, basking in him, his essence, his touch and his voice that spoke so deeply in my ear.

"What should I do to you?" He whispered before biting my earlobe.

“Everything,” I said, my voice a whisper. “Do everything.”

He chuckled softly and his embrace tightened around me, enveloping me in his warmth. I felt his lips gently brush against my neck and then move down to the curve of my shoulder and the swell of my breasts. His hands moved up and down my figure, as if he wanted to remember every curve and line of my body.

A trace of fire seemed to course through the same lines he traced, moving lower and lower. In response, my muscles contracted and goosebumps appeared over my skin. I had to take a deep breath when he reached my belly and his fingers traced small circles there instead of continuing lower.

"Everything, huh?" A husky voice left his lips before he planted a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin of my abdomen. I could feel myself melting into the fabric of the sunbed beneath us, as his fingers explored further and his lips followed behind them slowly. "What about we start with this?" He continued, lust in his eyes as he looked up at me.

I could come from the view alone—his deep brown eyes looking intently into mine; his shoulders pushing my legs further apart and carving a place for himself in the gap between them. The sensation of his beard in between my thighs sent a shiver through my body, the prickly sensation making me succumb to his touch. The way he groaned when my fingers ventured into his hair, pulling on the dark strands the second I felt his fingers inside me.

Each time he looked up, lips glistening with my own pleasure and eyes as dark as I have ever seen them, I thought I was imprisoned in some wet dream.

It was ridiculous the way my body reacted to him.

My hips moved up, trying to get more of the pleasure he was offering me and he promptly responded to my movements and demands; his tongue leaving faster and fingers working inside me as if his only purpose was to please me. God. His persistence made my body tremble and my lips part each time the pleasure metamorphosed itself into moans and whimpers.

In front of me, his torso was elevated and the broad shoulders and torso cast a long shadow over me. All at once, his hands were gone and the emptiness his fingers left behind made me whimper softly. He leaned down, his hand sliding to my neck, thumb pressing lightly against my chin.

“I was right, you know?” With a gentle force, he made me look up at him. “You taste so good.”

When he kissed me, I could feel it in my own mouth. Honey and wine and me. On this man’s lips.

I heard the muffled thud of his trunks hitting the floor and my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of his aroused state; his erection was a deep crimson and in a state of need. I felt my own desperation rising and tried to press my thighs together in an attempt to quell it. Carlos’ lips curved in a smile and his hand searched for mine, pulling it to his hardness; his large, strong hand enveloping my own, guiding me to provide him with the pleasure he sought. My other hand moved to my own pleasure, my fingers desperately trying to fill the hollow Carlos had left.

“If you only knew how many times I've done this alone,” he said, “thinking of you. Wishing for you.”

His slender fingers entwined with my own, sending a thrill through me as he demonstrated his desire. I felt my own growing with each passing moment, desperation rising inside of me; a deep and primal passion taking hold.

“Please,” my voice elevated itself over his.

"Please, what?" I sighed, my head leaning to the side in a plea. Carlos grabbed my wrist and forced my hand to rest on top of my thigh. "Use your words," he said firmly. "Tell me what you need."

I could feel my body quivering, my need for him tangible. I wanted him. I needed him. I needed to end this longing and this need my body was screaming to get rid of. "I need you," I said softly, my hips moving down to make the need even clearer. He let go of my hands but still stayed close, his pre-cum clammy on my fingers.

"You know what that means," Carlos murmured, his body hovering above me. He supported his weight by placing a hand next to my head.

My eyes pleaded with him. "Carlos, please," I begged. More than anything else, I wanted him to know that this was not a mere request but a desperate plea for him to fill the void I was feeling.

He didn't let me wait for long. In one swift move, he was inside me and I gasped at the sudden pleasure. His hands moved from my waist to my hips, pulling me closer to him and I could feel his length entering me further and further. He was as needy as me.

Slow, steady thrusts that made my body and soul melt into his.

Each movement or brush of the wind against my skin had a different effect on me. Pleasure rose with each passing moment. My hands reached for his shoulder, my nails digging into his flesh, desperate to hold on.

The hoarse moans he let out resonated deep in my bones, fueling my own.

His thrusts became more urgent, pushing a little further each time in a rhythm completely new to me, yet feeling like it had been written in my veins since birth. Pleasure slowly built up until I was sure I couldn't take anymore, until it felt like the desperation rooted deep inside of me was unravelling each seam of my body, longing for escape, for relief. When the moment came, it simultaneously felt like being pulled under the waves and the first breath of fresh air after staying underwater. I felt the tension snap and uncoil slowly like molasses, chipping away at my consciousness until I was light enough to float with the breeze. All I could see were stars, efflorescent in the purple haze of the sky. All I could feel was him, solid and present and only mine in this very moment. I couldn't help but call out his name.

"Just a bit longer, love," he said. "Just need a bit more. Can you take it?"

In response, I just nodded, my eyes still closed, taken by my own bliss. My cries of joy echoed through the night, growing louder and more intense as he continued relentlessly, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. I felt like I could come again, the sensations never-ending. With each stroke, I felt myself tremble with pleasure and my breath came in desperate gasps as I tried to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts.

An emptiness struck me when he pulled away quickly, a whimper escaping my lips at the right instant. I slightly opened my eyes, admiring him in between my lashes. The wistful look on his face, his parted lips, his eyes that didn't leave my body for a second. His fist wrapped around his erection as he jerked himself to completion sending a shot of lust through me.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed. "So beautiful."

He groaned again, and I felt the heat of his orgasm on my belly. He looked down at it with awe. A smirk painted his lips. Eyes dark with lust.

My fingers gripped his shoulders as he bent his head to kiss me. Our lips touched, once, twice—soft kisses that became more intense, deeper, hungry. His tongue danced with mine, a tango of passion and need. His tongue danced with mine, helpless and desperate. I wrapped my fingers around his back and dug into his skin. A shudder ran through him under my hands. His cock was still between us, stiffening again as he kissed me. The smell of sex and male musk was thick in the air and I couldn't help but feel intoxicated by it.

He pulled back to see my face and caught his breath at the sight of me. A smirk spread across his lips as he rolled off me slowly as if just realizing what we had done. His eyes darkened with lust as he traced the patch of wetness on my belly with his finger.

"What the hell did we just do?"

I felt my heart race at the simple words and my stomach flutter at the intensity of his gaze.

"I believe we just ruined us for good.”

"Oh," he got closer still, pushing me to him and wrapping me in his arms. My body settled comfortably in his embrace, my skin finding warmth in his chest. "Not for good, love; just until we do this again."

I don’t know how much time we spent like that, catching our breaths and allowing the pleasure to slowly dissipate until all that was left was the warmth of his embrace and the sound of the waves crashing against the shell of the boat, but I was sure I could live in that moment forever.

Sooooooooooo, that happened. As always, this is the part where I thank you for all the support and please never stop speaking your mind. I love reading your reactions! And send me questions if you have some!! First (of many) smutty chapters. Hope you enjoyed it.

Happy Easter to those who celebrate! As always, sending you all the love!

#Tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #fanf1ction #f1 fanfic #driver x you #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #driver x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz angst

[the-wolvesallcry]

I haven’t stopped thinking all day about the bitter pain there’s in 3rd ascension early days fu yao//nan feng that are constantly told “you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to” “you can go away anytime this (/me/) starts to be an inconvenience for you” etc etc while on the other hand there’s hua cheng that for some reason gets awarded with companionship even though they’ve known each other for 3 days, even though he’s an extremely suspicious person and all xie lian is still “colder” / more detatched from them than he is to a highly probable murder ghost king SOOOOO prompt fic to enrich a bit that scene where fengqing* are like “you cant trust him you don’t even know him he might have evil intentions etc etc” and xie lian is like “I don’t have anything valuable to steal nor am I anyone valuable enough to kill” and then he doubles down with “he couldn’t even use me to lure other heavenly officials since it’s unlikely others would come to my aid” but not in a self pitying way just in a matter of fact way actually even worse, in an offering-comfort type of way that makes everything worse ofc bc it’s like he’s saying “see, I have 0 value you don’t have to worry about me I’m safe!!!” as if that’s a good thing (or at least as if others would perceive it as such) and obviously fengqing will try to argue that and maybe say something like “our generals might come if it’s serious” or something similar idk and then xie lian that is extremely dedicated to prove « he’s safe with san lang okay san lang is good san lang wouldn’t have anything to gain from him stop suspecting him » but still always not in a bitter way just in a matter of fact way he’s like “!!!let’s try, I’ll prove it to you!” and then sends a distress signal or something in the communication array AND obviously he gets ignored (for narrative’s sake we’ll set this pre-banyue arc bc the wind master might have replied if it was after that) and they can’t do anything bc 1. they’re already there with him and it’s be hard to justify leaving without revealing their identities and, even if they could early days 3rd ascension fengqing are still too attached to their pride and ego to fall for what they know is not real and (as per their perception) ridicule themselves by showing that they care + by reacting to a danger that doesn’t exist too so it ends up with xie lian being proved right and them having to see how xie lian is not even fazed by it because he had absolutely 0 expectations (from them most of all) ((to make this even worse from fengqing’s pov this all happens in san lang’s presence that then says “gege I would never use you” and xie lian smiles sweetly to him and says “I know san lang”))

#tgcf #xie lian #xianle trio #actually #xianle quartet #feng xin #mu qing #hualian #fu yao #nan feng #mine #don’t judge me too much I’m not a writer #tgcf hc #hua cheng

[pinkandpurple360]

Man you know what would be a fun arc for Fizz as well involving Blitzo in the mix:

Now that Fizz isn't under Mammon's payroll and has basically all the free time he hasn't had for a long time (though I like the idea after this arc he still ends up doing what he did under Mam but on his own where he becomes just as successful if not more so because what better was of saying fuck you right?), he and Blitzo end up going back and looking to connect with their old circus pals/family. You know, going back to their roots (well Fizz roots anyways being I see Blitzo wanting to leave that life behind him but it'll still be a great time to rebuild their friendship) and what not. Though on the way they bump into Barbie, who of course still hates Blitzo and has become extremely distant due to her whole addiction and personal trauma in regard to Fizz not speaking to him for years. At first she wants nothing to do with them but maybe she's in some hot shit or something so ends up hanging with them anyways for whatever reason.

Basically some reconnecting with some old circus pals and Fizz ends up learning he does have a family and wants to seek them out and through this whole wild adventure and shenanigans: the three of them grow closer and patch up old wounds and such. Blitzo and Barbie work out what happened to them, Blitzo owns up about whatever shit he did to make her hate him and while Barbie tells him that she isn't completely ready to forgive him yet, the two agree to stay in touch and rebuild what they lost.

Fizz ends up finding his real birth parents but they suck ass but it did give him time to think over how all the years he was so desperate in finding a parental figure (regardless if it was Cash or Mammon) or family of his own that he didn't realize that he did already already have one within Blitzo and Barbie along with those in the circus who also cared and loved for him as family because sometimes the real family you have isn't of blood but the one you build on your own.

Amd fuck it, let's give Ozzie a small arc while Fizz is doing his thing where Ozzie wanted to join Fizz in this whole thing but 'this is something I need to do on my own' ordeal (that and Blitzo is with him so he'll be safe). Now all by himself he pushes himself to maybe do a little self discovery of his own where he goes to visit Bee (canon Bestie) and ya know, because I like adding depth to the Sins maybe there was a lot more going on between Oz and Mammon that left the two bitter despite working together on various projects. Maybe they were friends at one point, maybe more? Whatever you make of it those two work out their shit and while yeah, there's some bitterness still there, both at least end up on better terms with each other. Plus ya know there's a lot of possibilities of shenanigans that could come from the Sins hanging out but that would also mean Viv would have to be a good writer (really that could be said about this whole ask).

So yeah, both Fizz and Ozzie reunite, they talk about the things they went through and Fizz being a celebrity but still wanting to not feel as he abandons his roots wants to use that fame to help others like him and maybe shake up the system a little bit (I mean, Fizz and Ozzie being together along with Bee dating Tex was a bit of a shake up being how it was look down on (or should have been but ssssh)). Oz wholeheartedly supports his decision. Fizz finds his identity and where he wants to be in life without sacrificing who he is and Oz learns needs to have a life outside of Fizz and reconnect and rebuild those bonds he let slid himself.

And for the love of God let Fizz, Blitzo and Barbie be gremlins every time they're with each other I want chaos.

Yeah there's a huge need for more tuning this out and there's likely more I could do with Oz plus the whole balancing with the royal/present thing but I kind of wanted to focus mostly on Fizz plus it took me an hour to type this on my phone so I think it's best to wrap this up. Really this is just me rambling feel free to be as critical as you want with this or add your own to it.

-TA

I would watch the hell out of this it’s just fantastic. All I’d really want is to see him have a connection with one male or female character and for them to have missed him as much as Blitzø did but they had to leave him behind to become some big shot.

His bio parents being the worst would suck but who knows maybe answering the question of who they were is something he needs.

I miss the Fizz and the twins trio we’ve never had but really need.

#helluva boss critical #fizzarolli

[viola-ophelia]

TURN characters as folklore/evermore songs, because why the heck not? (lyric videos linked to each!)

abe woodhull: this is me trying 

look, i love to hate on abe, but i do think there’s some good in all his faults. he’s trying, throughout everything, to come into his own and do something for good, an admirable aim for someone so morally complex. it’s what makes him interesting to watch, and it’s what compels us to reluctantly root for him. 

anna strong: champagne problems   i’m imagining anna as the woman this song is being sung about, rather than the narrator. she’s often someone whose story gets told for her, but she has her own voice too, and she had her reasons for the hearts she broke. 

ben tallmadge: mad woman   i was initially tempted to give this song to anna, but let’s be real: ben is the angry person in the culper ring, not her. he’s constantly trying so hard to prove himself that it’s all too easy to turn that fire inward on himself. 

caleb brewster: long story short  caleb is the person who pretends he’s not living through a war until he can’t pretend anymore. but he’s also the person who picks himself back up after a fall and pushes on, and can laugh about it all in the end. 

mary woodhull: tolerate it  a bit of an obvious one, but still... ouch, i know. mary throws her whole identity into a failing relationship at the beginning, but ends up growing into her own anyway. like the song, she starts out pleading for a lost cause and ends up taking back her pride. 

john graves simcoe: no body, no crime  another obvious one haha. despite the pretty self-explanatory murder-y vibes of the song, i also think there’s a righteousness to simcoe’s character: he really believes he’s doing good, doing what he has to to defend his principles. 

abigail: mirrorball  abigail exists to please others, except she doesn’t have the option to do anything else, and therein lies the bitter unfairness of her situation. her kindness is often an obligation and not a choice, and god, i wish she could have saved some for herself.  

edmund hewlett: coney island  hewlett sustains himself on hope for so long that it’s a miracle he doesn’t snuff out when it comes crashing down. he’s left wondering where he went wrong, forced to find a new place in a world that never seemed built for him.

john andre: my tears ricochet of course the dead guy gets the song about a ghost lol. no, but really: andre is defined more by his memory than by himself, isn’t he? he tried so hard to make something out of himself, and he’s left with this legacy that belongs to the enemy, not to him. he can go anywhere he wants, just not home...  akinbode: cowboy like me  akinbode is always on the move, because he has no place to stay. but he wants more, wants to be at the helm of his own life for once: he named himself, chose his own lover, and has plans for after the war. this song feels like a love confession to abigail and also a goal of self-ownership. 

cicero: seven  we see cicero grow up along with the war, and lose his innocence along the way. he’s a boy still holding onto boyhood at first, and by the end he wants to join the cause he’s only just discovered. 

peggy shippen: illicit affairs  another obvious one, but it fits too well not to do it. peggy is ruined by her affair with andre, not just because she’s stuck in a loveless marriage with someone else, but because she knows now what consequences look like. she lost herself as she lost him, and worst of all, she did it willingly. 

george washington: epiphany  washington gets the 'indescribable horrors of war’ song because he is the war in a way, but there’s a current of hope there too. maybe horrors without hope are too great a burden for one man, or maybe america has never been without either. 

robert townsend: the lakes  the escapist, the denier, the one who never wanted any part in this: that’s robert townsend. he spends more time trying to get away from the war than he does finally accepting that he’s part of something bigger, but that understanding was there all along. otherwise, why fight it as hard as he did?  

richard woodhull: hoax  the magistrate continually defines himself by his disappointment: in his son, in his town, in everything. he makes judging his purpose as well as his profession, becoming so stuck in cynicism he just barely manages reconciliation before dying in the war that was happening all along, whether he liked it or not. 

#turn #turn: washington's spies #turn washington's spies #amc turn #turn amc #abe woodhull #abraham woodhull #anna strong #ben tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge #caleb brewster #mary woodhull #abigail turn #akinbode turn #edmund hewlett #john andre #peggy shippen #cicero turn #george washington #richard woodhull #robert townsend #john graves simcoe #simcoe #history #american revolution #amrev #taylor swift #folklore #evermore #music

[bestjeanistmonster]

Vigilante Zeldris AU

Meliodas getting manipulated by Golgius.

Now, Meliodas knows that Golgius is manipulating him into becoming another test subject but he’s just so desperate that he willingly takes the bait because he doesn’t want these memories anymore the memories that made him weak, real and fake. he wants them gone.

(These memories include all the fake memories and the part of his childhood when he was still happy, bitter but happy, when he and his brothers were still close)

He basically thinks that he plain does need them and they just causing him pain anyway so he’ll just eject them from his brain and then go back to his old identity with ease

So he’s not an idiot he just makes bad life decisions

Ban, Estarossa and Zeldris obviously can’t let that happen or else he’ll go on a villainous rampage. Ban and Esta especially don’t want to be forgotten by him, not again. Zel would rather die than listen to the small part of himself that doesn’t want to lose his brother again.

But with Meliodas opposing him, Zeldris can use this opportunity to beat the fuck outta his older brother for some much needed catharsis.

There’s also this part with the inhibitor on Meliodas’s neck that he still hasn’t removed and it symbolising that he doesn’t actually want this. If he really wanted to go back to what he used to be, he would’ve removed it by now and destroyed everything in sight but he hasn’t.

He won’t and that terrified him.

(Meliodas doesn’t go through with it obviously, he came close but he makes the mistake of looking at his brothers one last time and he hesitates. Seeing this hesitation Ruin does a little hypnotism/illusion magic to make them all try to kill each-other while he escaped)

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #sds #sds anime #art #drawing #meliodas #nnt meliodas #nnt fanart #i may never be your hero au #vigilante zeldris #doodles #nnt zeldris #zeldris #estarossa

[defaulttwig]

An Unlikely Reunion

Darth Vader x gn!reader

Summary: Standing before the sith lord whose purpose is to wipe out the remnants of the Jedi, your time as one is put to the test.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst?, lightsaber battle

A/N: this is mainly me practicing fight scenes - swordfighting specifically. Kinda plotless and just sprinkling random angst into this lol.

If you had pushed aside your emotions, if you had been a better Jedi, you would not be here. A shell of your past self, you still harbored the desire to do good. Even in the face of danger, at the likely possibility, you would die, you could not let that imperial stormtrooper strike down the poor, defenseless man in the street. You had given away your identity so carelessly to protect him, to fend off a group of white armored hounds. And in return, the people of this planet had given you up.

  The root of all the imbalance in the galaxy stood across from you. Alone, you stood your ground and mustered a glare. There used to be unity, light, and hope. He may not have been the sole source of uprooting the Republic, but he was the catalyst that ended the war. He took everything you cared for and reduced it to nothing.

  His cape billowed in the wind. The trees around your figures bristled as if nature itself tried to warn you of the danger. What little peace you had in your small abode away from the port had been disturbed by his presence. His being here was an omen of your shortcomings. Your time would soon come to an end.

  Accompanied by the collected sound of his respirator, his warped voice cut over nature’s quiet cry. “You know who I am.”

  “I’ve always known.”

  His hand curled into a fist at his side. “Obi-Wan...” He relaxed his hand. “You two were always close.”

  Bitterness bled through his words. You and the Jedi Master had a close relationship. He was the older brother you never had when you were a youngling. Always stood up for you, tutored you if he found time. His time for you grew slim when he gained a padawan, but that only meant your small circle grew one number whenever you did find each other in the temple. Obi-Wan was indeed the one who told you on that moon all those years ago, that things would never be the same. When you found him ten years later, he was the one who told you the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker, who he had become.

  “You are heartbroken.” His voice cut through your thoughts. The weight of his force presence lingered in your mind, reading your emotions like an open book. “A real Jedi should not be so attached to the past.”

  “You’re one to talk.” You moved your hand to the hilt of your lightsaber, clipped to your belt. He had a lot of nerve to say that, knowing how he was. Remarkably, he had not changed in the slightest - testing your patience without trying. “Considering what you’ve done.”

  Your cautious movement did not go unnoticed. “This is not a fight you can win.”

  You undid the clip, wrapping your hand around the hilt. Eyes narrowed, you watched for any sudden movements on his part. The pad of your thumb brushed the button, waiting. He remained still, almost conveying a calm countenance but you knew better. Through the Force, his signature lashed with every negative emotion conceivable, the foremost being resentment.

  “You being here doesn’t leave me much choice.” You took a fighting stance, broadening your shoulders as you did. “I know what you came here to do and it wasn’t for a reunion.”

  “Prepare to lose, then.”

  Prepare to lose.

Prepare…

  You froze, hearing the words repeat like clockwork in your mind. They took you to a time you had since buried in your heart. The wind picked up, pulling leaves from the branches above. They hovered and descended over your forms. As the leaves spun and danced, gracefully passing him, you blinked, and no longer did the embodiment of hatred stand before you.

  Anakin lowered himself into a fighting stance, the practice sword poised in front of him. He offered a cocky smile, his chin drawn down to appear smug. With a laugh, he awaited his master’s signal, but not before taunting you. “Prepare to lose.”

  Blinking again, a blurry form lunged at you. Your heart leaped to your throat, igniting your lightsaber. Rather than the blocky sound of wood clashing, a deep hum resonated as you blocked his attack. Red and green bounced off the surface of a black mask, its respiration getting lost in your flashback.

  Is that the best you got? From the recesses of your mind, laughter sprung forth. 

  You stepped back and made the next move. Swiping your lightsaber at his right side, he blocked it. 

  This might actually be a short fight.

  Sweat beaded at your temple. You sent a flurry of attacks his way. Each expertly dodged and parried, ever the duelist. He clearly had not dropped his training, unlike you. Your moves came stiff, raw; your years in hiding numbed your ability. Muscle memory could only do so much for you. 

  You can do better than that.

  Your sparring partner from your padawan years laughed, sweat lining the hairline on his forehead. Chest heaving, you swung again. He let the fight go on, no desire to end it. With all the ability to make this swift and short, he would let it go on. It wasn't over until you tired yourself first. Dodging your next strike, you stumbled past him and let out a frustrated groan.

  “Your attachment to the past will be your undoing.”

  The jarring voice that did not belong to the young padawan broke you out of your stupor. Turning on your heel, you barely managed to raise your lightsaber and block. The heat of the red saber inched toward your shoulder as he pressed down. Your face pinched in stress, struggling with his weight. Putting all your force on your front foot, you pushed yourself forward and shoved him back.

  In an effort to create more distance, you took two steps back. Adjusting your grip on your hilt, you breathed laboriously. Your thoughts whirled throughout the fight, dreading the eventual loss. Anakin always won. On the brink of fatigue, you knew how the rest of the battle would play out. 

  Darth Vader stood straight, waiting for you to make a move. His lightsaber poised to the ground, he left himself completely open. A trap, you knew. He would not bait you.

  You took in a sharp breath, shaking your head. In the blink of an eye, Anakin took his place. He looked down at you and twirled his saber like it was second nature. Spun it around his back before repositioning himself into an unguarded stance and teasing you - goading you - into his final attack. He toyed with you, abiding his time.

  Just like all the spars before, when you knew you had little fight left in you, your thumb pressed the button on the hilt. The hum of the lightsaber silenced. You tossed the hilt aside into the underbrush around the trees and stared down what remained of Anakin.

  “I won’t fight you.”

  So be it, if you had to die. All you asked was that he made it swift. You held no regret, bittersweet to know you would die at his hand. Never did you hope to reunite with him, not this man, but…you could live your final moments knowing somewhere in him, Anakin remained.

  “You don’t want to avenge all that you lost?” For a question, his tone morphed it into a rather taunting statement.

  You shook your head. Your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly from the rush of a fight. It had been too long since you used a lightsaber. Especially on your partner. You looked into the lenses of his mask, willing some way for his eyes to reveal themselves to you. Your tone grew soft, bitter but accepting.

  “I still have you.”

  The underbrush to the side rustled and swayed. In a flash, a silver blur flew up from it and thrust itself at you. Just as you held out your hand to catch it, the green light ignited. You turned your face from Vader’s to it, eyes wide. Its searing heat hovered inches from your face.

  All too bright, so blindingly bright it gave you a headache, you closed your eyes. The loud hum buzzed its warning to you, alerting you that it was too close. It only needed a push and you would be dead. The bright light burned through your eyelids. Rooted to your spot, you sucked in a breath. Somewhere in the blur of light, you only saw Anakin’s smile.

  “That boy is dead,” Darth Vader sneered with venom. The brittle 'chk' of twigs and undergrowth beneath gave away his step toward you. “Take your weapon and fight me.”

  “Fight me,” Anakin taunted. He twirled his saber, gesturing to yours across the room. “I won’t attack if you’re unarmed.”

  “If he truly is gone,” you started and opened your eyes. The saber lowered from your voice, poised over your heart. Darth Vader’s hand shook in contempt as it stretched out, holding your own weapon to you. “Then, strike me down.”

  His fingers curled a minuscule amount, each word spoken in barely contained rage. “Take your weapon.”

  You saw it now. In Darth Vader, you saw Anakin. Angered that you would toss your weapon and throw the fight rather than see it to the end. To the end, he saw fit, anyhow. No good duelist would go down so quickly. You saw how his face morphed, the braid brushing against his clenched jaw as he ordered you to pick it up and take your loss the right way.

  “I won’t fight you.” You crossed your arms and raised your chin. Anakin disengaged his saber, dropping his stance to stand like a pouting child. Well, you were both being childish. “We both know you won. It’s over.”

  “You would rather die dishonorably.” The vocoded voice came across as more of a statement than a question.

  If you had been back at the temple, two young padawans would turn to the side to see a disappointed master cross his arms. Disapproving of the behavior of both padawans, regardless of who started it. If you could go back in time, you would see him shake his head at you both. Instead, you were alone with your opponent with no master to disappoint. Only accompanied by your sparring partner, aggravated by your lack of etiquette for a proper duel. Even knowing this would be your end, you found it funny in a rueful way, to annoy him one last time.

  “I don’t care if you’re tired. Pick it up.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re stalling.” You narrowed your eyes. “You can get it over with right now.”

  Anakin stormed up to you, whisking your lightsaber into his open palm. He held it out to you, his face screwed in annoyance. “Just once, I’d like to fight you properly.”

  The green light shrunk back into the hilt and the lightsaber dropped pathetically to the ground. You glanced from it to Vader, who clipped his saber to his belt. He raised his hand and a weight formed around your neck. You gasped, feet dragged through the dirt and kicked aside your saber as he pulled you to him. 

  In the reflection of his lenses, your disheveled, choked form met your eyes. Vader curled his fingers in and the grip tightened. Your mouth fell open, unable to breathe at all. Dots formed around the mask, darkness bleeding into your peripherals. 

  “You are weak. Always have been.”

  In the next instant, you dropped to the ground. The weight lifted from you and you took a large gulp of air, touching your throat lightly. You lifted your head up to the sith lord. He simply looked down at you while his cape billowed behind him. Disdain radiated off of him in waves.

  “Next time we meet, I will not show mercy.”

  Next time, you better give me a proper fight.

  Your eyes widened, shocked that Darth Vader himself would let you live. 

  Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and walked off. Your eyes locked onto his retreating form, headed toward the imperial speeder he took here. You slumped over, eyes glazing over with tears. His figure blurred and once again you saw Anakin. His robes rustled and his hair, longer in length, blew in the wind as he walked away from you.

  You stretched a hand out to him, desperate to cling to the man you knew. To bring him back to you and apologize. Instead, you watched with regret as he climbed onto the speeder and took off from your little corner of the galaxy. Your hand fell into the dirt your head hung low, biting back tears. So close, he was, and yet so far.

  “Next time we meet…”

  This was the last time you saw Anakin Skywalker and your one and only encounter with Darth Vader.

#darth vader x reader #darth vader x you #darth vader fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

[love-is-dean]

‼️

Honestly I don't get their lovely vibe here coz it doesn't really feel genuine no matter how they acted up like they were having fun together; truth is they just can't. Coz nothing has been really fixed between them. They're still the same enemies who just used to be close friends a very long time ago but now Yeon has the blood of Moo Young's brother on his hands and he even admits he doesn't regret it and also suspects Moo Young to be the masked man he wants to get his revenge on and truth is that the Moo Young is really the masked man who's trapped Yeon in the past and almost killed Rang, Shinju and even Yeon himself. And Hongju? She's that obsessed bitter lover who's been rejected multiple times but still hasn't let go. Who also knows about the true identity of the masked man and his hatred towards Yeon and she also is aware that Yeon too is after the masked man and now she's found out that one of the reasons for all of this is the murder of Moo Young's brother by Yeon and while knowing all of this, with so much hatred and blood between them how could they possibly have real fun? When they're being suspicious and vengeful with each other? More like acting up to it coz otherwise how could it be even possible? That's why I couldn't enjoy their scenes coz it wasn't /couldn't he real!

And now moo young's character has me confused. Like he has his reasons to hate on Yeon and want to make him hurt but.. why go after Rang who's already been dead for three years? Like you see Yeon happily living with Jia, the one he wants and loves the most, and you think how about I go after Yeon's deceased little brother????? Lol and then adding Shinju to the list too? Like bro Shinju was around in 2023 too. Just saying. Any reason you waited this long -and only after time traveling to 1938- to kill some of Yeon's loved ones-and not even his most beloved- just to make him suffer? Then again moo young was really about to kill the blind Yeon but now he's like I need him alive and heals him just like that? btw... now that he's saved Yeon's life, shouldn't Yeon be bound to him by the fox debt contract??🤔

#tale of the nine tailed 1938 #lee yeon #cheon moo young #ryu hong joo #tvn #totnt1938

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships I know I said "summer"

But hear me out.

~ill-fated reality~

Prologue: The First Step

[Marianne's pov]

A ball. It began with a ball.

The ball queen Catherine, my mother had held up for the neighboring kingdoms that accepted the invite, bringing in their finest princes fit for yours truly, though I never cared less about what king of tyranny in a welcoming disguise would do for a hand as treasured as thee. My time was crystal embers and it shall not be lent out to sitting all alone on a corner- not technically alone, but with only a lady-in-waiting as my younger sister makes the place shimmer as I've shone a light in the crowd.. a nice lady stays a nice lady. Particularly speaking when you want to earn a simple nod coming from your mother's rather stiff head.

I look around the room as Lady May, though the name's too formal for a casual addressing, looks over me with reassurance painted on her face, a sign of a calm manner as she slowly fans herself. "Your highness.. I may have spotted something of your interest.." she snickered.

Anything that will get me out of my boredom, I'd take, so I leaned over to her. "What could it be?"

Lady May giddily pointed at the two people talking.. and as my mind could make out who they are, I recognized their faces. It was count William and queen Elisa's lady-in-waiting, Irithel. Towns said they hated each other, and so my lips curl up a bit as the sight intrigued me. Irithel had been overheated in her dress and was only using a fan for air, whilst count William had gotten the wrong idea!

"Isn't it true that when a lady strikes her fan with such ferocity while glancing at a man.. she is signifying interest?" Lady May hid her face in her own fan seemingly making it obvious that she was trying to gossip.

I chuckle at the sight, and at her statement. "Oh, if only such scene could be a portrait! Though I suppose this was written in the stars, they are from warring kingdoms. What stayed in flames for a long time could not be faded into embers, I'm afraid."

Lady May could almost snort if they were all alone. "You speak of such poetry.. could you be a writer in disguise?"

Oh, but she knew I was.

I simply grin mischeviously at her teasing, although quite flattered she noticed I slipped a little metaphor, albeit how I delivered it never seemed to satisfy me. I like to have my sights on.. taking an ink-dipped quill and writing down words I cannot say out loud, that only a heart could hold.

"I figured we should go ahead and dance!" My mood shifted, like a coin being tossed in the sky and flipped onto a different side. My lady-in-waiting grabs my hand and together we joined in the crowd.

~~~~~

[Damian]

'Strike while the iron is hot, and not when it's yet to be.'

"Ah, it's the mighty warrior prince Damian!" I hear the same salt in the wound from a mile away, the same bitterness coming from the man I'd been obligated to wield a sword with, with his hands on his pockets as he approaches in his signature smug expression.

"Oh. The sparring partner." I spat back, but still I had no other choice but to let him pester me. For as long as he isn't distracting me from reading my favorite book from an anonymous author, whose identity had never been in an informatice literature book in all of my castle's library. I figured sometimes talent does not have to be flaunted, maybe that's why this person has lived under a rock.

I snap out of my thoughts as I started thinking about things far away from what was happening.

"Goodness, you're a bookworm, ain't ya?" Jake almost grimaced at the sigh of what I'm holding in my hands. Real smart. What an original observation. "Sometimes I wonder if you'll marry a woman out of a book."

"Then I figured you'd never marry." I replied.

He scoffed. "Whatever. Elona's having a ball tonight. Thought it would be a good idea to see Elizabeth but I've already accepted we weren't written in stars.."

"Don't be absurd! If you love this woman, go get her!" I try to sound encouraging. Maybe it was the romance stories I got it from?

"She's the princess of Elona, hello?" Jake spat sarcastically.

"Well then.. best of luck moping on the floor." Then I had an idea. "Though it would be a great idea to pay a little visit."

Jake threw his arms in the air. "Are you insane? You know that king Frederic won't allow you."

I put an arm around his shoulder. "Who says I have to tell him?" I say, a hint of mischief in my tone. Father never really cared enough to forbid me from doing things, so I have to know what was right and wrong by myself. "Besides.. I never said they could recognize us.."

Jake looked at me like I was a giant butterfly walking the earth. Not that I would oppose to be a pretty butterfly, ofcourse. I would've loved having to perceive ultraviolet light to see colors regular humans cannot. That's a fact!

"You know how queen Catherine is when she gets furious. I hate her!" He whined like a little child he still was inside.

I close my book and give him a snicker. "You don't want to talk bad about your mother-in-law now, would you?" I tease, then my expression turns to one full of passion. "If you love her truly, you fight for her."

He gave me a glare. "Or if it's not meant to be, let her go."

I tilt my head at his pessimism. "Come on. Maybe we can help father get back at them. But ofcourse.."

I lean close to him, hatching up a plan.

"We go in disguises."

~~~~~

[Elizabeth]

Not too long ago I saw my sister walking side by side with her lady-in-waiting, dancing without a care in the world.. not something mother would have taught her. She was being herself, and that was a good thing. My sister could be prim and proper when she needed to be, most of those times in question was when she meets a certain presence of queen Catherine.

I look over to Lady May, and how her flowing locks of seemingly grey hair laid there unscathed as she moved along to the music being played.. she had been way more sophisticated than my sister during her time spent with her and the queen. Unlike Marianne, she wasn't queen Catherine's daughter.. and if she could slip up, that would be the greatest mistake known to mankind.

Ofcourse mother would allow Marianne to slip up. She was the heir, and nothing has ever been more important to her than that one fact.

I nod and smile shyly at Lady May.. I hadn't known why I couldn't take my eyes off of her brown eyes. Maybe she had been naturally beautiful it intrigued me. I adore her the way one would adore a pet. Nothing more is ever going to come out of it.

She notices me.. and I feel a lump in my throat I cannot explain. We have been friends since we were kids.. why am I so stuck up on her now? Surely she could get a lot of attention from the males any moment now. Especially my sister. The woman of the hour herself.

They both walk over to me, Lady May nervously fanning herself with a curious glance my way.

"Are you exhausted yet?" Marianne asks.

I shrug my shoulders for a bit before replying. "I've got to entertain the audience somehow."

Marianne smiled at me, one that the kingdom swore even the angels would shed tears from their eyes at the sight. "That's a good thing. Although you could use a little work on the looks department!"

Lady May turned her head away as Marianne giggled at her own teasing.

I roll my eyes in a chuckle. "Oh, yes. Ofcourse."

She then rubbed my arm gently. "Try not to get too hyper or else mother would've suspected you for eating all of the sweets!"

I smirk at the thought, when I've fully known that the chocolate fountain was just out of my reach minutes ago. "I'm the princess, she can't get rid of me!"

"Oh, she could try! Nothing's ever going to take my little sister!" She responded, certain.

"You have Selene to pester!" I say, half-serious.. and holding onto the only one fact that mother couldn't have possibly have the heart to. Every queen needs a right hand.

Lady May gasped softly at the mention of her first name, not the term she'd been used to in her time spent in court. "Elizabeth!" She softly scolds me, her cheeks fading into crimson red.

I give her a snicker, before fleeing off to the maidens.

~~~~~

[Jake]

"Is this truly a good idea?" I say, as I know this man all too well. If there's a thrill he'd live for it.. and if there's trouble, he'd look for it. Let's just hope king Frederic doesn't find out about this.

"Don't be so absurd! Think about it as a thoughtful gift to my father. His revenge." He responds, grabbing my hand to discreetly climb up the castle walls towards the entrance to the ballroom where they held the gathering.

"Damian Amnon, I hope you know what you're getting US into." I glare at him. He was just too cocky and full of himself, thinking he could take over anything as long as he's got a sword and his pride alongside him.

And I resent that he could.

"Trust me." He says.

I don't, but I climbed the wall with him.

~~~~~

[Marianne]

As the dancing faded into silence, and attention drifts onto me, I smile knowingly at the people who have arrived. I see Lady May and Elizabeth from the corner of my eye and somehow I felt a sense of relief in me.

I clear my throat as I held my hands together, poised as a doll, regal as a ruler I am yet to be.

"I thank you all for arriving at the ball. I'm afraid mother cannot accompany all of you in this event, for she had important matters to take care of. But nonetheless, I hope your time has been well-spent with entertainment.. and ofcourse, with the comfort and services.. the great hospitality my people have shown. I offer my deepest gratitude." I nod to them. "Alas, we must go on.. once again, Thank you for choosing to spend your time in here.. and as for the suitors.." I say the last bit with uncertainty and bitterness. "Best of luck." I say as though I spat flames at them.

I hear the applause from the crowd, and I curtsy at them one last time before walking over to my sisters. Atleast, Lady May has been one to me for so long.

The ladies engulfed me in an embrace. "You were amazing.." Elizabeth muttered under her braath, a statement only for three to hear.

"Thank you!" I say, flattered.

"You'd be a great ruler.. even greater than queen Catherine, perhaps!" Lady May joined in, fueling my mirth.

That's what I hoped to be. I want to make my mother proud. I want her to look at me with such pride even the deadliest sin of it would've been surprised.

Her time would've been well-spent raising me.

"I'm sure the suitors would be fighting tooth and nail for your hand by now.. you were so.. what's the word.. elegant?" Elizabeth tried to conjure up words.

If I'd been a man, I would have nothing but their comments in my head for the rest of my life, then have the nerve to think I'm better than anyone else.

Flattery. Seriously.

I smirk at my sister and hit her arm playfully, a thing mother would never allow.

But she wasn't here.

Strangely enough, that brought me peace.

~~~~~

[Damian]

"Ah! Lovely women." I bow at the maidens giggling at the sight of me, striking their fans signifying adoration.

"Good evening, ladies! I am just a measely stranger passing by.. no status.. not at all." I greet them, grimacing in my head as I fear I've been too obvious.

"Oh, quite the charmer!" One of them said. "A gentleman indeed! A very handsome one! Have you come to ask for the Princess' hand?"

Oh. So this is for suitors? This is what the whole fuss is about?

"Oh, not at all! I just.. like special occasions like these.." I blurt out.

"Oh!" One of them looked even delighted at my statement. "Does that mean you're not for the princess' taking, then?" She asks me.

"I suppose so, yes." I respond.

"That is interesting.. have you ever thought of courting a lady?"

Oh.

..

O h.

I laugh nervously. "That is the least of my interest at the moment!"

"Aw! A shame.. well then.. we best be on our way! Ladies?" She called to the others as though they were puppets. Were they?

I watch as they leave.. and I am once again met by the lack of human company.

Or so I thought.

"Damian Amnon. Prince of Avarron, is it?"

A woman spoke to me from behind. It sounded like an enchantress casting her spell.. soothing me with her voice hiding her evil demeanor behind the light reflecting her every feature.

I turn around.. she looked exactly the same as her voice made her seem.

A woman.. in the finest clothing there is. Her seemingly caramel blonde hair perfectly still like they had their own mind to behave. Her composure was that of a poignant mistress.. she had been calm, but her eyes had something different in them.

I bow silently at her, not knowing where this could go.

The woman never seemed to care about my bare minimum gesture of respect.

"Tell me, your highness.."

She leaned in close, with the intent of intimidating.

"What exactly is your intention of tresspassing into my castle?"

.....

~~~~~

-end

{HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS BECAUSE I STILL HAD A LITTLE WRITERS BLOCK aaaaand I got lazy with the last part. Also. Cliffhanger. Hahahahahahahahahaha I'm so evil

Also... you met our main characters!! Yay! I promise Lady May will have her pov. This is only the prologue.. so not a lot going on at the moment.

*looks at Marianne and Damian meeting* oh shit. There IS something going on at the moment. Also Damian is a ladies man what can I say?

HEHE HOPE U LIKE IT (pls)

Ig I'll see you at the next part??

This was not proofread 😨}

#ill fated reality #my ocs #oc story #this is my first story ever so it's not perfect

[andrewlovely]

It's amazing the loops people will jump through and the lies they'll tell themselves to avoid confrontation.

I met a man who submitted others to impossible tests they could not possibly pass in order to assure himself beforehand of his own disappointment and affirm to himself afterwards his own superiority - a sense of superiority which became necessary to begin with and was born out of his own feelings of inferiority at not being able to confront others directly.

He doesn't give others a sincere chance to reflect on and change their behavior, because "they should know better" and it's not his responsibility. But really he doesn't give others that chance because he is scared of confronting them. And what scares him the most is that they might actually be receptive and change their behavior towards him - because then he would be forced to let go of his self-righteousness and sense of victimhood.

On some unconscious level he is aware of this self-deception, and so he engages in counterfeit confrontation to appease what his better instincts are telling him: that he's being unfair to others... and to satisfy his conscience that "an attempt was made!" He convinces himself that clever innuendo and subtle, or not-so-subtle insinuations are the same as direct communication.

- "How could they be so obtuse? Do I have to spell it out for them?!"

- "Why don't you just tell them that what they're doing is bothering you?"

- "I shouldn't have to!"

And so the sense of superiority inflates as the fear and insecurity feeding that same need to feel superior, and in turn the vanity feeding the need to feel perpetually wronged, they retreat further into the shadows until they are wholly invisible to the self.

An identity forms rooted in bitterness. The individual experiences this bitterness as bitterness towards others, but the real bitterness is towards the self, the resentment for not being able to stand up for one's self and express reasonable grievances clearly and respectfully.

The individual feels such disappointment in his self that he unconsciously sets up others to disappoint him in order for the way he already feels about himself to be mirrored, and in a way, validated in others. Should someone pass his test, this would threaten the way he feels about himself and create dissonance between the inner and outer worlds. Therefore, the test must be made impossible to pass. The game is rigged from the start and with each inevitable loss the ego's need to be right feels it's winning. Meanwhile, the heart suffers terrible, almost inaccessible pain.

I used to be a variation of this person. Not so much in terms of testing people, or setting traps for others (that’s a… strange breed), but definitely in terms of cultivating a sense of superiority to compensate for feelings of inferiority… inferiority at not being able to confront others directly, and resorting instead to sarcasm, irony, insinuations, avoidance, etc, to sustain the false sense of superiority and stay away, far, far away from that terrifying cliff of… <dun dun dun!>… actually addressing the problem! As if the world itself would implode and I would cease to exist if I dared to look someone in the eye and speak to them honestly about something they were doing that was bothering me.

I'm still a nonconfrontational person by nature, and I'll probably always be. But I no longer delude myself into thinking that it's for any other reason other than that I'm scared. There is no substitute for direct and honest communication. Everything else is just childish tricks and shadow games.

#thoughts #andrew lovely #andrew eugene lovely