#because i was really stumped for such a long while

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[hailsatanacab]

close enough to be whole again || chapter 18

🎊 new chapter update new chapter update new chapter update 🎊

#dpxdc #dpxdc fic #dcxdp #dcxdp fic #desktop tumblr lets you edit links to put a title instead of 'show chapter' but mobile doesnt 😭😭😭 #oh hello guys how are you i didnt see you there!! #dont mind me just casually dropping a chapter after........... too many months being inactive #im so sorry #ive been trying to get the other writing ive got going out of the way but like #theyre all turning into monsters too!! #idk how i feel about this chapter :/ #the next chapter is going to have to undergo major rewrites before its posted #but! BUT! ive got a solid idea of where it goes after that so thats good news!! #because i was really stumped for such a long while #....... now i just gotta write it tho haha #after my holiday!! then its fic time BaBey!!! #poor danny in this chapter - poor damian too #at this point damian isnt necessarily against the idea of ghosts being (he knows ghosts are real!) its just more of a #'if ghosts arent real than danny is just confused and hes not dead please hes not dead dont let him be dead' sort of situation #ya get me? #promise they will talk about it and it will get better #just..... its gonna be a few chapters 😬 #also in an earlier draft danny called dan a little bitch but damian misinterpreted it as danny calling damian a little bitch #and that was so funny to me - BUT to me it read more in damian's way so like i didnt want danny to get readers like that too #so i took it out but i kinda wish id left it in because its Funny #uh hmmm what else............... bruce sure is surprised about ghosts in amity huh #thats the trouble with writing Smart People #for i am Not Smart #BUT i do know the plot so that helps!! #anyway!! im at limit so let me say thank you for waiting ily all and i hope you enjoy it!! ily ily ily and thank you thank you thank you 🩷

[cy-cyborg]

How The Owl House did amputee representation right before Eda ever lost her arm - Disability in Media

[ID: A screenshot of Eda from The Owl House, an old woman with pale skin, very large, grey hair and pointed ears in a red dress. Beside the screenshot on a dark pink background is text that reads "Disability in media, How the Owl House got amputee representation right before eda ever lost her arm." /End ID]

Dana Terrace's The Owl House has some of the best disability rep I’ve seen on a Disney channel show in a long time, with Eda, the main character’s mentor, being one of many stand-out examples.

Plenty of people have discussed how Eda’s curse and the loss of her magic can work as an allegory for disability and how refreshing it is to see a story (especially one aimed at a younger audience) who’s focus is not on her “overcoming” it, but learning to accept it as a part of her and go from there. Eda’s story tackles a lot of subjects that are often mishandled in other examples of disability representation, from the subject of parents who refuse to accept, to glass siblings and much, much more, The Owl House handles all these topics beautifully.

But one thing that dawned on me during my most recent re-watch of The Owl House is how well Eda (and later Lilith) worked as amputee representation, long before Eda actually lost her arm.

One of the side effects of Eda and Lilith’s curse is that sometimes their body parts, mainly their limbs, can fall off. It doesn’t hurt them, and Eda is seen removing them intentionally at multiple times in the series, but they can always be reattached.

[ID: an image of Eda holding her sister Lilith's hand. Lilith is a pale woman with long, black hair, wearing grey clothes. She is looking at her other arm suprised, as her hand is missing. Luz, a Latina girl with short brown hair and a purple hoodie is looking on, smiling. /End ID]

While most likely unintentional, the way the show depicts this with Eda in particular is exactly what I wish more people would do with their prosthetic-using amputee characters.

Eda detaches her limbs, especially her legs, when they’re inconvenient or when she’s relaxing.

[ID: an image of Eda laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]

The fact that this is mostly played for laughs is actually a good thing in my opinion (though obviously, the show’s overall tone is part of that), as it shows the audience who are mostly children and teens, that in a world of weird and downright scary (from the perspective of the characters) things, this isn't one of them. It’s just a thing she and Lilith can do, and it can even be funny.

[ID: An image of Luz and Eda dressed as pirates. Eda is sitting on the ground, her legs detached and off screen somewhere. /End ID]

It does startle Luz and Lilith on a few occasions, but that’s more because they didn’t know the curse could do that, but once they’re introduced to it, it’s never really brought up as a big deal again.

I’d love to see more amputee characters who do this with their prosthetics. So often media is almost afraid to have amputees take their prosthetics off on camera or on the page. For some folks, our prosthetics are like a part of our bodies, but that doesn’t mean we never take them off. Show your leg amputee flop on the couch and throw their legs across the room. Have them go without on occasion, not because they have to, but because they just don’t feel like putting them on.

Likewise, the owl house creators never shy away from showing Eda when her limbs aren’t all attached. A lot of media, and kid’s shows in particular, will avoid having an amputee character’s stump visible if they ever do take their prosthetics off - treating that part of the character’s body the same way they treat gore or nudity. I’ve talked before how this actually does have a real impact on how kids in particular react to amputees - I’ve legitimately had kids I worked with cry when I took my prosthetics off, then immediately calm down when they see there’s nothing "scary" under my socks. As much as I love How To Train Your Dragon, it’s very guilty of this. Hiccup looses his leg at the end of the first movie, and wakes up with his prosthetic already attached. The Netflix series has a few instances where he has his prosthetic off, but the camera almost always avoids showing it until he can cover it up again, or is super zoomed-out so you wouldn’t be able to “see anything”. To their credit, they do get better with this in the last movie (though it's still always covered), but for the majority of the series, they are very reluctant to have any shots where hiccup’s leg is in view without the prosthetic (unless they’re very far away).

[ID: a screenshot of Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon 3, a white man with short brown hair, and one leg missing, wearing armour made of black dragon scales and no prosthetic. He is holding onto toothless's head, a black dragon. /End ID]

Ironically, Eda does (permanently) loose an arm at the end of season 2, but I don’t really have much to say about her as amputee representation on that front, since she’s absent for a lot of Season 3, and when we do see her again, everything is so hectic, the story doesn’t really have any time to focus on her missing limb (which is reasonable). I will say, I do appreciate that they kept the amputation when she's in her owl-beast form in the finale, but there's honestly not much more to say about it. We do see her again in the epilogue after she’s had some time to settle into the amputation, wearing a hook prosthetic, but it’s, once again, too quick to really say anything from a representation standpoint. There's a few little nit-picky things I could bring up, like the fact they seemed to change the type on amputation she had (when she looses it, we see the split was very close to the elbow, but in the epilogue she has most of her forearm again) but those read to me more like animation mistakes or an odd prosthetic/clothing designs rather than a representation issue - and as someone who's worked in animation, given the stress the team was under for the finale, I'm not really worried about it. Like I said, it's more nit-picky than anything.

[ID: A screenshot of Eda, her hair tied back and wearing a red robe and a hook for her right hand. /End ID]

Despite all that though, I still think Eda is still good amputee representation, but mostly because of how they depict her curse’s side effects rather than her actual amputation. She’s honestly one of the only characters that I think you could refer to as “amputee coded” (outside of maybe Teen Titan’s Cyborg), and I genuinely wish more creators would treat their actual amputee characters the same way the Owl House treats Eda in that regard.

#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg #Writing Disability #Disability #Disabled #Disability Representation #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Creators #Writing Advice #Disabled Characters #On Writing #Disability in Media #The Owl House #TOH #Eda #Owl House #Eda The Owl House #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady

[bahrtofane]

soapy oh soapy

jude looses his lucky charm and looses his mind in the process

word count - 1.5K+

watch it - HAPPY ARPIL FOOLS. the most unserious fic to date ( jk theres one more coming )

p.s. -big shout out to my friends @aloejuicebr for fueling this madness u guys are real ones and even bigger shout to plooki @yayam26 for making soapy missing poster

-----

You end up forcing jude to do skin care with you after begging him for weeks because you just know you can work your magic and make him feel the best he’s ever felt. All you need is a night in. And time. Lots of time 

After some persuasion and begging, pouty lips and puppy eyes, he gives in. 

“Fine.” is all he says while you’re in his living room, legs over his watching a movie that you've long ignored in favor of bothering him. 

But you’re already giggling. Picking out a headband you want him to wear in your head. Pink care bear one it is. The night comes on a rainy day, he has a rare day off the next morning, so you want him to start it on a good note. 

You’re getting ready for bed, in your pjs, jumping about while you get your little baggie full of goodies out. 

“Here,” you hand him the headband,” put this on” pink care bear one just like you envisioned. 

He takes it, feeling the soft material while he hums, “what’s this for?”

“Keeps things out of your hair.” you smile, dragging him to his bathroom. You take about a hundred pictures, and he poses for you for each one. Giggling while you coach him into poses. You think you'll send a few to Jobe for good measure. 

You face the sink and think of a game plan. Eyeing the counter  

It’s here you first lay eyes on soapy. 

“Jude what the hell is that? "You grimace, looking at what looks like a dry stump of white something, sitting on its own little ceramic dish. 

Jude looks away, scratching the back of his neck, mumbling something under his breath. 

You swing your little kit on the sink counter, setting a hand on your hip,”what was that?” 

He sighs dramatically, putting his face in his hands,”it’s my good luck charm. soapy,” he wails. 

You snort, patting his back, “I'm sure he’s very uh lucky,” you give it a small pat. 

“No he is,” Jude brings his head up to face you, “ I know it. I've had him since before dortmund. “ he nods proudly. 

You grimace,”you’ve had a piece of soap for years?”

He only nods harder. 

“Okay jude. Whatever you say. “ 

“I am not getting rid of him,” he points a finger in your face. One that you gently move, pulling his hand into your own. 

“I didn't say get rid of him. Let’s get your skincare started, yeah?”

He nods, following you through the steps like a lost puppy. leaning down while you help him apply the creams and foams just right 

When it’s all set and done, he wiggles into bed happy as can be. Sighing deeply, “that was actually really nice. Thank you. “ 

peck! right on your nose. 

you laugh, “told you it would be nice. “ 

your next plan is to find a way to deal with soapy…

——-

Jude loses soapy. It becomes a whole fiasco. He can’t find him in the usual small little pocket in his duffel bag in the usual ziplock baggie. 

He’s frantic at his hotel, tearing his things apart, looking and relooking at the bottom of his suitcase. His jacket pockets, his pants pockets. 

He tries to think. Did he leave him in his bathroom? No. Can't be it. He remembers putting him inside the familiar zip lock baggie while getting the rest of his things ready. Where in the world did he go. 

His soapy. His poor soapy! How is he supposed to live in these conditions. He’s never. ever missed a single game without soapy. What is he supposed to do now? Loose?? There goes his good luck down the drain. Years of good performance is about to take a nosedive. 

When he’s set to do his routine face time with you pre game, you pick up on his sour mood. But he only brushes it off, blaming it on pre game nerves 

You don’t believe him, but don’t want to press

Jude pends 20 minutes locked inside the bathroom, head in his hands while he scolds himself. It’s a bar of soap he wants to scream, pull yourself together. But he can’t. Soapy has become more than just a silly little joke. He’s become attached to soapy, a part of his routine. He’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone 

For now he sighs, smoothing his jersey down and getting ready to get on the pitch. 

——-

The only thing that’s been in his mind is getting back home and getting to the bottom of the mystery. Unfortunately for him, soapy is nowhere to be found in the bathroom. Not in the living room. The kitchen. The hallway. He thinks of hiring a cleaning team, but what is he supposed to say ? 

Oh hey guys clean my house and also be on the lookout for a dried out stick of white that looks like a finger haha. 

No. Absolutely not. 

He takes to his own devices and begins to tear apart his house in a desperate search for his beloved soapy. He spends the whole day on his hands and knees looking under places he didn’t even know his house had to begin with, squeezing under and into spaces he’s sure gonna regret tomorrow. 

It’s already dark out when he calls it quits. Nothing but a few bruises to show for it. 

He’s really lost him huh. 

——-

His behavior is soon picked up by teammates, coaches and staff. The usual cheery youthful Jude is replaced by a damp sluggish cranky one.

He’s silent at training, chewing the inside of his cheek while going through the familiar motions of each drill. 

Eduardo comes to him after they hit the showers, squeaky clean and ready to go home. 

“You good?”

Jude gives him a bashful nod, “yeah man. just a little worn out, don't worry.”

He gets a clap on the shoulder in response, and gives a tight lipped smile back. He’s gotta figure this out or it will start to affect more than just his mood. How stupid of him to let an old slice of a soap bar affect him so much. 

A little piece of him can guess why. Soapy is one of the very few stable things in his life. And perhaps the only stable physical thing. something to count on. Something to be able to rely on. Unchanging. 

But now that he’s gone and lost it ? jeez. 

——-

You show up to his house on a cloudy day, his favorite snacks under your arm. He greets you with a kiss, but you see the way his eyes droop and sag. What's wrong with your golden boy? 

He leads you to the living room where you make yourself at home. Plopping down on the couch and handing him his things. 

He takes them gingerly, setting them on the kitchen counter while he takes a seat across from you 

you frown, “Jude. What's wrong? “

He looks away, playing with his hands, knee bouncing. Okay what is going on that’s gotten him so worked up

“Baby…” you try, scooting closer to him. 

He screws his eyes shut, bawling his hands into fists, “I lost soapy,” 

oh. 

Your gaze softens, “You lost him? When?”

He sighs, cracking an eye open, when he sees you aren’t making fun of him he opens both, relaxing. 

“I don't know. when we played villareal away I couldn’t find him. Then i got back and tore this place up and still no luck.” arms falling into his lap. 

You place a hand on his knee. Gentle. Soft. 

“He couldn't have gotten far. I'm sure he’s somewhere obvious. “ 

“I guess,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch. 

You smile, letting him lean against you. He's so cute when he pouts. You like babying him anyway. The rest of the day is spent with his head in your lap while you press occasional kisses to his face, letting keeping up with the kardashians play in the background. 

When it’s time for you to leave, Jude whines, pouting and asking you to stay just a little more.

“It's already late jude, I would if I could you know that. “

He huffs, “I guess. “ 

You forgot about your bags laying on the kitchen counter, might as well put them away before you go. 

Jude gets up to help, sliding against the hardwood and meeting you in the kitchen

He grabs a chair from the island in the middle, bringing it to him and a little baggie falls from it. Is that what he thinks it is ? He picks it up faster than you can turn around and almost screams. He could cry tears of joy 

It’s soapy. 

You were right. It was right in front of him all along 

He holds up the bar for you to see and you smile, “see. told you. “

He nods, “yes you did,” kissing your lips as a thank you 

You hum, patting his head when you pull apart, “glad you found soapy.” 

Maybe soapy isn’t so bad after all. 

#bahr footy #jude x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude x you #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff

[killxz]

Valentine's Day 💌

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

a/n: happy valentine's day! i rushed to get this finished by today

You wait, tapping your finger against the wood of the table impatiently. Where was Jason? He was late, again.

"Are you ready to order, ma'am?" The waiter asked you.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, not yet. I'm still waiting for someone," You say to the waiter sheepishly. The waiiter gave you an understanding nod before leaving. You whipped out your phone, beginning to furiously text Jason's phone.

Me: Where are you?

No reply. You sigh, fustrated. You decided to order a drink first while waiting for Jason. You were rightously annoyed. It's not like he was late to every date, but there was a few times he was considerably late. When your drink arrived, you sipped on t, eyes darting across your surroundings to see if Jason would appear. You checked your phone. No reply. You tsked and put your phone facedown on the table. So much for having a sweet valentines day.

As you sipped on your drink, the bitterness of the coffee matched the tinge of disappointment settling in. The ambiance of the cafe seemed to mock the absence of Jason, and the minutes continued to slip away.

You glanced at your phone again, still met with the silent screen. Frustration morphed into a more somber realization that your Valentine's Day plans were unravelling. The warmth of the cafe felt insufficient to dispel the chill of disappointment.

Taking another sip, you debated whether to wait a bit longer or cut your losses. The sounds of conversations around you became a distant hum as you replayed the scenarios in your mind, wondering why Jason hadn't shown up or responded.

The waiter approached once more, this time with a sympathetic smile. "Are you ready to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?" they inquired.

You sighed, "I'll give it a little more time. Thank you."

As you gazed out the cafe window, the city lights twinkling in the evening, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness amidst the Valentine's Day festivities around you.

After waiting for about 30 more minutes, you gave up and gathered up your things, slamming a twenty on the table to pay for your drink and tip the patient, sympathetic waiter.

Just as you gathered your things to leave, the door to the cafe swung open. Startled, you turned to see Jason rushing in, panting. His hair was tousled and he was breathing heavily. The panic on his face was obvious, and he quickly scanned the room until his eyes met yours. He shouted your name.

"Wait, don't go!" he exclaimed, breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late! I really am. There was something going on at work and my phone died-I'm really sorry!" Jason felt scared. He was so scared that you would leave him, like his parents, like Bruce when he died.

With shaking hands, he thrust a boquet of your favourite flowers and a box of Godiva chocolates into your bewildered hands. "I'm...sorry, please don't break up with me." He mumbled.

"Break up with you...? Why-why would I do that?" You were stumped. Sure, you and Jason had been dating for years, but does he rreally think that you would break up with him over this?

"Because...because I was late and made you mad," Jason gave you puppy dog eyes. You chuckled to yourself. For being a big, jacked vigilante, Jason can be a big baby sometimes, and that's what you love about him. He always lets his guard down around you.

"I'm not mad anymore," You assured him, hugging the flowers and chocolates closer to yourself. "You're here now, that's all that matters." You got up on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheeks. Shifting the gifts toone hand, you grabbed his hand with your free hand. "Come on, let's go sit."

Jason's hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you on the lips. The kiss was long and deep, causing others to stare. When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your red cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

#killxz #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #batman #jason todd #batboys #jason todd angst #fanfic #valentines day #galentinesday

[bigfatbimbo]

OK but now I want to know who you consider the "most" and "least" bratty of all the characters. Like a tier list from "most" bratty ro "least" bratty.

I have a vague idea of what my tier list would look like, but I'm very curious on how you would create yours!

a/n — OMG THIS IS LITERALLY SUCH A GOOD IDEA. I’m gonna go from least bratty to brattiest though because like… suspense?

Also only doing characters on my list and not including Rosie or Mimzy because.. i’m literally stumped. I tried, and i’m stumped.

ok so charlie is not bratty at all like, let’s be for real. The most trouble she’ll give you is saying like “oh, I have more work to do!” but she doesn’t put up much of a fight.

Sir pentious is definitely not a brat, that guy lives to please. He will not dare do anything to cause degrading words, he’d rather die for a third time.

I feel like Vaggie wouldn’t put up much of a fight either but I think she definitely would have trouble letting go and relaxing. Like it’s not the concept of a lack of power she’d bitch about just more like vulnerability issues?

Lute would be the same way. Like the only thing she would really be a brat about is if this scenario involves a sinner reader. Because then she’d be higher up but she definitely has no problems with being taken care of that would be super comforting.

Alright so Lucifer is a tough one because on one hand, he’s the king of hell and can be incredibly smug, but on the other hand he literally craves validation so hard he’ll cry over it. The only reason he ranks over Lute is because I think he’s a little snobby and it would show.

Husk would also def have trouble letting go because I think he usually gives in the bedroom. So yeah maybe a couple remarks and protests here and there but once he goes into subspace he shuts up.

Now that we are getting into more bratty characters, Alastor would definitely piss you off on purpose. Only because he thinks it’s entertaining to see you mad and he especially loves it when you fuck the shit out of him later for it. But I also think he really wants approval especially from a femdom because mommy issues.

Velvette I think would definitely be a brat. Like she’s ordering people around all day, yes of course it would transfer. She definitely pouts and whines when she doesn’t get her way with you but like you know how to please her so she goes into subspace after a while.

This guys a wild one. Vox is such a fucking brat it’s not even funny. He has this terrible need for power and he always falls flat on his face because let’s be real he was not meant to dom. He will try his hardest though and when he inevitably fails, he will whine like a bitch about it.

This guys not even on my character list but I felt the need to include him because he’s literally the brattiest one here. Adam will not give in for sooo long. He will absolutely start crying before he stops bitching and then he’d probably get embarrassed and start bitching even more to compensate. Yea, he takes the cake for the brattiest character.

a/n — ANYWAYS, I don’t think I missed any that I wanted to do, unless i forgot which is very possible. But I am curious to see your list too oh my gosh so make sure to get back to me on this one!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader

[knightotoc]

I always liked the riddle scene in the Hobbit, but I never knew what it really meant until I read the original just now. The main idea is lost in adaptations because you need to get into their heads. I knew it was a high-stakes version of a kids' game and a mythology/fairytale reference, but it still seemed pretty random and hard to believe, since these two are the last characters you'd put in a battle of wits.

But the scene is actually about how people's environments shape the way they think. Bilbo and Gollum are both so flustered that they can only think of what are, to them, very easy riddles. They keep feeling ashamed that they can't think of something harder, and confident that the other guy will get this immediately. But the other guy is stumped, because his mind works differently, because he lives in the opposite environment.

Solving the riddles isn't actually about being smart, but being empathetic in Bilbo's case and nostalgic in Gollum's. Bilbo is only able to comprehend Gollum's nasty way of thinking because they are in his lair, amongst the dark and fish. Bilbo is repulsed and even unable to guess Gollum's final riddle, only winning by luck (he stutters "I need more time" so badly it sounds like the correct answer, "time").

Gollum is only able to imagine Bilbo's pleasant answers by thinking back to his past, when he was a normal guy who lived with his grandmother near flowers, eggs, and cats. In this book, he isn't confirmed to be a former hobbit, but the parallel becomes more tragic with this retroactive backstory. Gollum indirectly tells Bilbo that time is the only thing that separates them, and Bilbo does not understand this. If Bilbo had the "more time" he requests, hundreds of years here in the dark, he would become like Gollum, wisdom at a terrible price.

The main theme of The Silmarillion is how immortality affects people. Elves are fated to live forever in the undying lands of Valinor. Humans instead have the "Gift of Ilúvatar," the great mystery of an unknown afterlife. Elves are counterintuitively jealous of this gift, since death allows humans to escape the music of Arda, the fate which defines all creation.

Bilbo and Gollum, who were so different in life that they could barely follow each other's thoughts, also end up with the opposite deaths. The elves take Bilbo to Valinor, while Gollum goes to the mysterious afterlife of the other unchosen mortals. (At least two elves, Lúthien and Arwen, chose this fate for themselves out of love for a guy. But generally this is the unchosen/fate defying route for souls to go.)

So during their first meeting, Gollum is the one who understands the destructive power of time. But in the long term, Bilbo will come to understand time as an endless font of wisdom and peace, since nothing can be destroyed in Valinor. We don't know how or even if the mortal afterlife experiences time; if Gollum's pessimistic definition would hold true, or if that, too, would eventually change.

#the hobbit #gollum #bilbo #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien

[honestlyvan]

ALAN WAKE 2 ANNOTATED: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WEIRD FINNISH GUY SAYING

(This post is also available on Dreamwidth)

Preamble: What is this?

There’s a lot of Finnish shit in Alan Wake 2. I speak Finnish. I’m really annoyed about how wrong about some of the things that are in Finnish in the game people actually are. @drdarling is an Ahti fan. We’re mutually annoyed about how wrong about Ahti people are, because in general the trend is people thinking Ahti is spooky and mysterious because they don’t know what he’s saying, rather than thinking he’s spooky and mysterious because of the things he’s saying.

So Autumn went through the entire game, transcribing Ahti’s dialogue, and I went through the transcript, translating everything untranslated in the game, and providing cultural context for the rest of it (with some saves from @saikkunen, @rhpurasu-blog, and my mum), because truly this dude is not nearly as cryptic as people make him out to be, and is actually twice as weird as people think he is as a result.

Disclaimer: Finnish is very regional, and even with people from all over pitching in, some of the shit Ahti says might still be idioms we’re not familiar with. If you’re a Finnish person reading this going “HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”, trust me that I had many moments like that while putting this together, and please leave a comment so I can add your insight :D

This post is going to go through all of Initiation, followed by all of Return. There's unmarked spoilers past the cut -- enter at your own risk.

INITIATION 1: LATE NIGHT

First meeting with Ahti as Alan:

Ah, (no niin) there you are, Tom. Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well. Not one without the other. Good to see you.

“No niin” -- utterance, roughly the same as “alright” or “now then”. “No” is a common filler word like “well.”

“Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well.” – “ei niin paljon pahaa ettei jotain hyvääkin”, a common Finnish turn of phrase. Broadly has the same meaning as “silver linings.”

Alan asks Ahti to point him towards the exit:

(No totta helvetissä.) Of course, Tom. The work will instruct its maker. I was gonna get something from the basement for you, but you can get it yourself now. The more cooks the worse the soup.

“No totta helvetissä” – “(in Hell), of course”, a variation on the phrase “totta kai”, meaning “certainly” or “of course”

“The work will instructs its maker” – “työ tekijäänsä opettaa”, common proverb. “You learn things by doing them.”

“The more cooks the worse the soup” – “mitä useampi kokki, sitä huonompi soppa”, common proverb, same as “too many cooks spoils the broth”

Alan asks Ahti what Ahti wants him to get from the basement and clarifies that his name is Alan, not Tom:

(No joo, mutta katopa kun) a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two, Tom. (Eikö niin?) And a man with a tool can build his own exit. It’s in a shoebox in the basement where you left it. Safe as in the Lord’s purse. Here’s the key.

“No joo, mutta katopa kun” – “see, here’s the thing (with that) is”

“a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two” – this may be an obscure saying, my whole gaggle of Finnish friends were equally stumped by it. Entirely possible it’s just those little shits from Espoo fucking with us, entirely possible that it’s a variation on a saying that we’re just not picking up on.

“Eikö niin?” – “isn’t it so?”/”Right?” a filler phrase. (It is very common for people to say this right after saying something that makes no fucking sense.)

“Safe as in the Lord’s purse.” – idiomatic, comes from the Bible (1 Samuel 25:29)

Alan asks Ahti if they have met before:

You remember Ahti. The janitor. You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed. So don’t worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs. Just remember to turn on the lights. It won’t take long when you get to work.

“You remember Ahti. The janitor.” – the intonation of this line implies to me that in Finnish he’d be using emphatic -han/-hän for it

“You can’t be lost if you don’t worry about where you are headed.” – may be an obscure saying, none of us recognised it.

“the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs” – “paistaa se päivä risukasaankin”, everyone has their little successes, “every dog has its day”

“It won’t take long when you get to work” – “ei mene kauaa kunhan pääsee alkuun”, “as long as you get started it won’t take long (for the matter to resolve)”

Alan asks Ahti if he knows a way to escape The Dark Place:

He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles. It’s not easy to get out. But don’t you worry, Tom, the home is still there, where the heart is. I often think about it when I mop the floor and look into the puddle. Water is the memory of the world. Water finds its way.

“He who moans about his troubles, is the prisoner of his troubles.“ – “Joka murheistaan valittaa, on murheidensa vanki”, common proverb. Finnish people love telling other people to stop complaining.

INITIATION 4: WE SING

After the musical sequence, when you walk past Ahti in the studio:

My Swedish brothers, (perkele). (Ai että nyt on kyllä joo). (Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana).

“Perkele” – “(by) the Devil”, one of the most common Finnish swear words.

“Ai että nyt on kyllä joo” – Untranslatable, can be approximated as “now we’re talking”, “that’s more like it”, or “a hell of a thing”. I love this phrase because it means fuck-all even in Finnish, and conveys a sense of deep appreciation regardless.

“Lattoi pojat jenkkakoneet soimaan, saatana” – literally “Those boys really made the jenkka machine ring, (by) Satan.” “Jenkkakone” refers to the band, playing a song for people to dance “jenkka”, a fast-paced folk dance to. (Addition from @sluiba: jenkkakone is a colloquial term for a jukebox, nowadays more commonly used to refer to audio equipment more broadly e.g. speakers; so he's basically saying, "those boys really turned it up to eleven".)

INITIATION 7: MASKS

When Alan runs into the janitor’s closet:

Hurry, Tom! Here is the light at the end of the tunnel. (Jumalauta), that held you close, Tom. (Ei muuta kun) onwards, said the granny in the snow. When the panic is biggest, the help is also near.

“Jumalauta” – “god help us/you”, a common swear word

“that held you close” – “otti läheltä”, meaning about the same as “a close call”. A more literal translation would be “that took close”.

“Ei muuta kun” – “nothing else to do about it, but”

“onwards, said the granny in the snow.” – “eteenpäin, sanoi mummo lumessa”, a common turn of phrase, an motivational expression of perseverance and sisu

“When the panic is biggest, the help is also near” – “kun hätä on suurin, on apukin lähellä”, a common turn of phrase, broadly means the same thing as “there is light at the end of the tunnel”, can be thought of as a more optimistic companion to “things will get worse before they get better”

(I like this block of dialogue a lot because it demonstrates that a lot of Ahti’s Finnish is just filler words and a tonal component to what he is actually saying.)

Alan mentions that Door didn’t seem happy to see him this time:

Fearing the master is the root of wisdom. But don’t let the game get you down. He is playing his role. Maybe put him in your films, Tom, like you have put me. (Perkele! Sehän olisikin).

“Fearing the master is the root of wisdom.” – “herran pelko on viisauden alku”, the fear of the lord (or rather, The Lord) is the beginning of wisdom. It’s an interesting choice to omit the reference to the Christian god, because it’s preserved in other phrases.

“Perkele! Sehän olisikin” – “(by) the Devil! Wouldn’t that be something.”

Alan asks what films Ahti is talking about:

I’m a fan of your masterworks. There is “Tom the Poet”, my favorite. And “Yötön Yö” is the most famous one, of course. And is it true what I hear, that it’s coming back to cinemas soon? Is there a bottom to this rumor?

“Is there a bottom to this rumor?” – “olla pohjaa”, to have a bottom, means “to have a factual basis”.

Alan says he needs to get back to his apartment, asks if Ahti can help:

Well-planned is half-done. You asked me to make sure you won’t forget the… (mikä se valokuva oli) light pictures, the photos that your artist wife took. They are waiting in the shoebox in the basement. What you leave behind, you find in front of you.

“Well-planned is half-done” – “hyvin suunniteltu on puoliksi tehty”, a common turn of phrase. What it says on the tin.

“mikä se valokuva oli” – “what was the word for ‘valokuva’ again”, a relatable bilingual moment. The Finnish word for photograph is literally just a compound word that directly translates to “light picture”.

“What you leave behind, you find in front of you.” – “minkä taakseen jättää, sen edestään löytää”, what goes around comes around.

He also has incidental dialogue, if you hang around after the conversation

I am looking forward to seeing “Yötön Yö” in the cinema, but first I work. And the work won’t end even when you do it (perkele). (No ei siinä), one potato at a time. Just remember, Tom - the brave will eat the pea soup.

“No ei siinä” – “well, nothing else to it”

“the work won’t end even when you do it” – “ei työ tekemällä lopu”, common proverb, warning against rushing and working too hard (because you won’t run out of work through hard work)

“one potato at a time” – “yksi peruna kerrallaan”. This one is so funny to me because he could have just said “one thing at a time”, since that phrase translates literally, and instead he says this just so sound slightly more Finnish.

“the brave will eat the pea soup” – “rohkea rokan syö”, a common proverb, used the same way as “fortune favours the bold”

RETURN 5: OLD GODS

At Valhalla Nursing Home, after Rose tells Ahti that he doesn’t need to clean, this is his home, and threatens to take his mop away even though she knows he would just find it again:

(Kyllä, kyllä mutta) once after being told no. Why rest, when you are born to work. (Eikö niin?)

“Kyllä, kyllä mutta” – “yeah, yeah, but”, exactly as “yeah yeah whatever” as you’d think it is.

“once after being told no.” – “kerta kiellon päälle”, a common idiom, to do something one last time before stopping for good. “One for the road”

“Why rest, when you are born to work” – possibly an obscure saying, the version I grew up with is “why rest when you are born to work hard (like a farmhand)”.

Rose tells Ahti to go pick a song from the jukebox, as a treat:

Yes box, holiday. Just thinking about it makes my dance foot waggle. (Kyllä näin on).

“Yes box, holiday” – This is a reference to Pirkka-Pekka Petelius, a Finnish sketch comedian from the Eighties. “Jees” is a loanword from the English “yes”, meaning “good, decent, alright”. The original append was far more vulgar, translating more properly to “yes box, dick face”

“makes my dance foot waggle” – “tanssijalka vipattamaan”, a common turn of phrase, means “makes you want to dance/makes you start dancing” depending on the context.

“Kyllä näin on.” – “That’s the way it is”, common filler phrase.

Saga introduces herself:

(No eipä siinä). Name won’t make the man worse, even a Swedish name. I’m Ahti.

“No eipä siinä” – filler phrase, same as “No ei siinä”

“Name won’t make the man worse” – “ei nimi miestä pahenna”, a common proverb, similar in meaning as “don’t judge a book by its cover”

Saga asks if there’s anything good on the jukebox:

We try to do good, but only prime comes out. Music from my Swedish brothers, Old Gods of Asgard. My pals, the (perkeleen) vikings, (perkele).

“We try to do good, but only prime comes out.” – “Hyvää koitetaan tehä mut priimaa tuloo”. This is a very specifically Bothnian turn of phrase, he’s just bragging about the Old Gods making good music.

“(perkeleen) vikings” – “Perkele” being used as an adjective for emphasis.

Saga asks where to find the Andersons:

You can never know where. Only a seaman can know that, but even the seaman can’t know everything.

“Only a seaman can know that” – this is also an honest to god pop culture reference, to a song called “Vain merimies voi tietää” (“Only the sailor knows”) by Tapio Rautavaara.

Saga asks if Ahti was in the band:

(Minäkö?) No no. (Perkele, saatana, en ollu en). Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach. But we have shared a stage or two.

“Minäkö? Perkele, saatana, en ollu en.” – “Me? (Perkele, saatana), absolutely not.” “Me” in the interrogative has a slightly dismissive/diminutive vibe in Finnish.

“Not so much sweet that it fills the whole stomach.” – “ei makiaa mahan täydeltä”, a classic turn of phrase about not overindulging.

Ahti’s incidental dialogue, hanging out by the jukebox as Saga:

Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri. (Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…)

“Rain is coming down like from the ass of Esteri” – “vettä tulee kuin Esterin perseestä”, same as “raining cats and dogs”

“Vaikka vettähän ne kyllä lupasikin, että…” – “Although (they, the weather forecast) did promise it would rain, so…”

Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor. (Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut.)

“Rushing is not good for you and hurry is not an honor” – “ei ole hoppu hyväksi eikä kiire kunniaksi”, a very common idiom. What it says on the tin.

“Lietkö olet tämmöistä kuullut” – “I wonder if you’ve heard (of) such a thing”, he’s just making fun of Saga for being “hasty.”

(Joo näinhän se menee, että…) the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works. (Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu.) The song revives the soul.

“Joo näinhän se menee, että” – a filler phrase, similar meaning as saying “as they say”.

“the lazy man gets sweaty when he eats and gets chilly when he works” – “hiki laiskan syödessä, vilu työtä tehdessä”, a common proverb excoriating people for laziness.

“Se oli kyllä hyvin sanottu” – “That was well said”. This whole exchange comes across as Ahti trying to impart some words of wisdom to Saga.

After the power goes out, Ahti has dialogue upstairs:

No use crying in the dark place. What has been, has gone. But trouble doesn’t look like this! You can go to the basement and check the generator. But look out - you can never know in which tree the devil sits.

“No use crying in the dark place.” – This is most likely a deliberate play on words from Ahti. The relevant Finnish proverb is “ei auta itku markkinoilla” (there’s no use crying at the marketplace) which means it’s pointless to waste time feeling sorry for yourself.

“What has been, has gone.” – “ollutta ja mennyttä”, usually this phrase is used the same way as “water under the bridge”

“But trouble doesn’t look like this!” – “ei hätä ole tämän näköinen”, common turn of phrase communicating that the situation is not as bad as it seems.

“you can never know in which tree the devil sits.” – “ei sitä koskaan tiedä missä puussa piru istuu”, common proverb. The word used for devil, “piru”, refers to a folk devil or an evil spirit rather than a capital-letter Devil the way “Saatana” and “Perkele” do.

Ahti jumpscare at the Spiral door:

Getting in is forbidden, for your own safety. Time is long for those who wait. But in the end, stand the thanks.

“Time is long for those who wait” – “odottavan aika on pitkä”, common turn of phrase. Same meaning as “time is slow for those who wait”.

“in the end, stand the thanks.” – “lopussa kiitos seisoo”, common turn of phrase. Similar meaning as “good things come to those who wait.” The word for “thanks” can also be used to mean “reward”.

Saga asks Ahti is he knows anything about the Cult of the Tree:

Yes, yes! He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper. Blum was one of them. He has kicked empty. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. But I like his shoes.

“He who reaches for a spruce tree will stumble into a juniper.” – “joka kuuseen kurkottaa se katajaan kapsahtaa”, a common proverb about (edited by suggestion from Sluiba again) the dangers of excessive ambition and greed.

“He has kicked empty.” – “potkaissut tyhjää”, common idiom, "kicked the bucket"

Saga asks Ahti how he knows Blum was in the Cult:

A fox never runs out of tricks. Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways. Blum liked to talk.

“A fox never runs out of tricks “ – “ei ketulta keinot lopu”, proverb. Foxes are traditionally tricksters in Finnish folklore.

“Tease a crazy man and he will show his ways “ – “härnää hullua, saat tapansa tietää”, proverb. In essence, “fuck around and find out.”

Saga asks Ahti if he knows where Anger’s Remorse is, after finding the empty record sleeve:

The matter is not my business, (mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että) but she who steals a needle, steals a nail. Wonders of the modern world - music captured on vinyl, on tape. What will they come up with next? (Mitähän ne vielä keksii) I’m a man of the old union.

“mutta niin, sanotaanko vaikka, että” – “but, yeah, let’s just say”

“but she who steals a needle, steals a nail.” – “Joka varastaa neulan, varastaa naulan”, an old proverb. I’d like to note that Finnish does not have gendered pronouns, so Ahti is deliberately giving a hint here. (Addition from @sluiba: "[the proverb] suggests that someone unscrupulous enough to steal small things will likely also steal something bigger.")

“Mitähän ne vielä keksii” – “what (else) are they going to come up with”

“I’m a man of the old union.” – “Vanhan liiton mies”, a biblical reference to the covenant in the Old Testament. He’s basically calling himself older than Christ. The phrase itself is used to mean "old-fashioned" in a positive sense.

Weird idle dialogue in Ahti’s room after this:

There are pieces of george on the floor everywhere. The black stuff. Shitty thing. Very bad. I need to clean it all away. (Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka)!

“pieces of george” – very sneaky, he’s saying it look like someone threw up (yrjötä, the name “Yrjö” being a Finnish form of George) on the floor.

“Perkele, kun sotketaan joka paikka” – “(Perkele), what a mess they’ve made of everything!”

(Kulkaapa nyt, mikä…) (Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?) (Voi helvetti soikoon). Where am I? (Tämä ei ole minun koti). This is not my home. (Minä haluan…) I want to go home now. What is this place? (Ei saatana. Ei saatana!) How did I get here? I’m lost… lost at sea. No lighthouse anywhere, and a storm is coming. (Voi jumalauta).

“Kulkaapa nyt, mikä… Mitäs, mikä paikka tämä on?” – “listen here, what… Where, what is this place?”

“Voi helvetti soikoon” – cursing, literally translates to “oh, how Hell rings (like a bell)”

“Tämä ei ole minun koti. Minä haluan…” – “This is not my home. I want…”

RETURN 8: DEERFEST

Alan goes to the Spiral Door in the Dark Place and sees Ahti there:

We loop around, and come together, Tom. I have put everything ready for the visitors. I’ll come to wash the floor of your room next. All you need is water and Vileda. Water is the oldest balm. Water finds its way. What water brings, it takes away. It can be clean or dirty, it can give life or drown it.

“We loop around, and come together” – “ympäri käydään, yhteen tullaan”, a common turn of phrase. “What goes around comes around.”

“All you need is water and Vileda.” – Vileda is a popular cleaning supplies brand. He’s quoting an advertisement.

“Water is the oldest balm.” – “vesi vanhin voitehista”, from Kalevala. What it says on the tin.

Alan asks if Ahti can help him find his way one last time:

Now there’s a devil in the fish trap. Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants. Okay, I’ll get the door open for you, Tom. There you go. The matter is a steak. Now comes the end of the rhyme.”

“there’s a devil in the fish trap” – “olla piru merrassa”, an idiom. It means that there’s unfortunate consequences for something you did, similar to “a devil to pay”

“Don’t be spooked by it so that shit won’t start beating your underpants” – “älä säiky ettei lyö paskat housuihin”, would be more properly translated as “so that shit doesn’t drop hard into your pants”. Means the same thing as it does in English.

“The matter is a steak.” – “asia on pihvi”, idiom meaning that something has been exhaustively dealt with, the way you make steak out of a cow.

“Now comes the end of the rhyme” – “tuli lorun loppu”, idiom with a similar meaning and implication as “end of the line”, the expected end of the current circumstances.

And that’s a wrap! If there’s interest, and if I can get an assist from Autumn again, I might go back to Control and do the same thing for Ahti there. The point is to do justice to our collective weird uncle from the Remedy Connected Universe. Hope you had fun and learned something new :D

#Alan Wake 2 #Remedy Entertainment #Ahti the janitor #AW2 spoilers #Alan Wake (Remedy)

[awyeahitssam]

Time travel AU; Tomarry

Harry was seven the first time he appeared.

Tom arrived to him small and trembling, with bare blue fingers and toes. His teeth chattered noisily while hands worked insistently up and down his arms to generate some illusion of heat. It was a rather odd sight, considering it was thirty seven degrees outside and Harry was sweating a bit, himself. Not to mention the boy had just materialized in his supposedly secure hiding spot, without so much as a sound of warning or shimmer about the air. 

Or, you know, walking or running, because that’s how any other child got around.

Harry shook away the thought, pushing himself off the tree stump and letting shredded leaves fall from his grasp. 

The child was looking up, now, glancing around like a frightened rabbit, silver-grey eyes wide and wild. He couldn’t have been more than four years old, which wasn’t that much younger than Harry, but he wasn’t used to being around toddlers. In fact he had never been around anyone smaller than him for more than a few minutes - their parents always rushed them away, thanks to his reputation as the Dursleys' troubled nephew.  

Harry wouldn't let the boy freeze because his parents would be mad they'd spoken. Not that they would be angry at the boy, mind: it was Harry that always got into trouble for such things. He would be fine.

(And no, Harry wasn’t at all resentful. Really.)

Dilemma solved, Harry stepped forward resolutely and wrapped his arms around the trembling child. The boy stood stiff and unresponsive, tremors still wracking his form. Harry was a whole head taller than him; from this close he could see what appeared to be snow melting atop night-dark curls.

Harry blinked in surprise. He had thought the boy had been locked in a freezer, with how cold he was, but snow in July? 

Where was it cold this time of year? 

Sweden? 

Antarctica? 

Iceland? 

Did the boy even speak English? 

Harry knew that if you wished hard enough you could escape a place: after all, he had ended up across the schoolyard four days ago, on the school roof of all places! But maybe this boy had gone further? 

“All right?" Harry asked, going to pull away, but the boy suddenly began clinging to him, head pressing forward into his chest.

What did parents call their kids to comfort them? Aunt Petunia always said “Duddums,” or “Dudders,” but those were just nicknames. Maybe… 

“Uh, it’s okay, d-darling?”

The boy stilled again, sniffling once and looking up with narrowed eyes, as if he thought Harry was making fun of him. Maybe only adults called people that? Oh God, Harry had no idea what he was doing. This was his first hug, after all… 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he tried again. “We’ll get you home, so you’ll be all right. With your, uh, parents and stuff. Don’t cry, please.”

Well, that was more begging than reassuring, probably, but Harry had no clue what he was doing here. He’d never had to comfort anyone a day in his life!

“I wasn’t crying!” The boy denied, shoving himself away from Harry fiercely even though he was still quivering and unnaturally pale. “And I don’t have any parents.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry raised his hands defensively, ready to spring back if the boy lashed out again. When people got angry with him it rarely went well. “Um, I don’t either. Have parents, that is. And I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

Harry wasn’t going to apologize for it. He had to do enough of that at the Dursley’s, and he had only been trying to help, besides. Still, he knew how frustrating it was when parents got brought up. The reminder that he was an orphan, trapped with the Dursley’s for a very long time to come, was far from comforting. 

“Just another orphan, then,” the boy said dismissively. Harry didn’t bother being offended, as it was the truth, though that tone was a bit... 

“I suppose,” Harry said. “You’re still cold, aren’t you? Let’s move out of the shade.” 

The boy squinted at him suspiciously, but nonetheless followed when Harry led the way to a nearby rock and gently pressed him to sit on it. He kneeled on the dead, brown grass and eyed blue fingers and bare toes worriedly.

“That’s not good,” he whispered. Harry reached out to the other boy slowly, as though he were a wild animal, and the child jerked away.

“What are you doing?”

“They’re blue,” Harry frowned. “Just - let me -” 

Harry took the boy's hands in his own and brought them to his mouth, breathing hot air onto them. The boy made a mildly disgusted sound and made to move back, but Harry held tight, rubbing to create heat through friction. 

He felt gross and sweaty, and frankly the cool of the boy’s hands was a relief on such a day, but mostly he was worried. He knew, vaguely, of hypothermia, and he didn't want the boy’s fingers to fall off.  

The boy glared at Harry, but didn't try to pull away again, though he watched his every movement rather suspiciously. That wasn't anything new to Harry, of course. Everybody found him suspicious. 

“Where am I?” The child demanded, after a long period of silence in which they were essentially holding hands. 

“We’re at a park in Little Whinging, Surrey.” 

“Surrey? I was just in London…”

Harry frowned back. “Are you sure? It's not snowing in London.”

“It was five minutes ago,” the boy said firmly, crossing his arms. 

“In July?” Harry murmured, incredulous. 

“I'm not lying,” the boy said coolly, though the effect of his glare was somewhat ruined by the shivers still wracking his body. “And it's February, besides.”

“I didn't say you were lying,” Harry huffed. “Just that you’re wrong. It's July 30th.”

The boy frowned, glancing from the sun high in the sky to the brown grass. He seemed at a loss, eyes flitting around as if trying to find something to refute Harry’s claim.

Harry watched him, considering. 

“My name is Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?”

The boy blinked at him. “Tom,” he said. “Tom Riddle.”

...

Harry was in the astronomy tower, legs dangling over the edge, eyes looking towards the ground. His companion arrived as suddenly as always, the only announcement of his presence the prickling at Harry’s neck.

“...Harry?” 

He turned with a tired smile, faltering only slightly when he noted what Tom was wearing. A slightly oversized version of the Hogwarts uniform hung over his small frame, a silver and green tie smoothed on his neck. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked, falling to his knees beside the bright-eyed boy. Tom wasn’t crying, but his eyes were burning with something like anger and loneliness and despair. It took Harry a moment, but when he caught sight of the bruise marring Tom’s face he felt his breath catch in his chest.

“You—who—how dare—!” Harry couldn’t seem to bring himself to coherence, so instead he shut his mouth and carefully tilted Tom’s chin to get a better look at the mark. It was large, spanning from his right cheekbone to eyebrow: a mottled, puce discoloration that never should have touched on Tom’s strong features. 

Tom allowed Harry to maneuver him without complaint, eyes wide and hungry as they took him in.

“Even at Hogwarts,” the younger boy murmured, smaller hand reaching out, brushing against Harry’s cheek. 

Harry couldn’t help the soft look that overcame him, despite the anger boiling, wrathful, in his gut at the sight of Tom’s injury. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’d rather not go ten months without seeing you, Tom.” 

Though truly it hadn’t been so long for Harry. After all, hadn’t he seen Lord Voldemort rise only a few months ago?

But no. This was Tom, his first friend, the first person he’d thought to protect, not a single trace of serpent in his visage.

This was Tom, with one of his eyes half swollen shut.

Harry didn’t know any healing charms, but he had taken to carrying around the salve Hermione made for his hand. He unscrewed the lid and gathered more than was probably necessary, the goop thick on his fingers. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” 

Tom tilted his head, not wary but measuring, and Harry held his gaze until the boy’s shoulders loosened and he nodded.

Once upon a time, Lord Voldemort had been capable of trust. Theoretically it was a hard thing to grasp, but in practice it just made something in Harry’s chest melt.

Harry massaged the salve in gently, careful not to get too close to Tom’s eye. He was nearly done by the time Tom gasped, jerking away.

It must have started tingling.

“That’s…” 

“Strange?” Harry smiled at him. “Yeah. Hold still, you’ll need a bit more to help with the swelling.” 

“Why do you have this?” Tom asked, even as he obediently shut his eyes and swayed forward. “Have you been getting into fights, Harry?” 

How strange, the way Tom said his name now, compared to the way he would one day, in a dark, dreary graveyard.

Harry laughed off the comparison, laughed so he didn’t retreat back to misery, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tom’s forehead. To the place that he would one day mark Harry.

“Always,” he smirked, pulling back to catch sight of Tom’s wide-eyed look. He screwed the lid back on the salve, wiping his fingers on his robe and slipping it back into his pocket. “Now, are you just going to sit there gaping all night, or would you like to learn how to defend yourself with magic?” 

Tom opened his mouth, probably in protest against that gaping remark, but closed it before saying anything and nodding his assent.

Harry drew his wand, a wand Tom had only seen a handful of times, and he couldn’t help the way his muscles tensed. Harry didn’t mention it.

“Protego,” he enunciated, making the motion with his wand a bit slower than he might otherwise.

“That’s a fifth year spell,” Tom pointed out.

“One that you’ll master,” Harry agreed cheerily. “Unless you want to be tickled to death.” 

It would have been more logical to use some sort of pain as motivation - such as a stinging hex - but Harry, Tom knew, did not want to hurt him. Still, he could deal with pain. Given his age, Harry was expected to be stronger than him, to be able to harm him. And to Tom, it would be far more humiliating to be reduced to helpless giggles.

Harry knew him too well, to play on his pride like this.

Tom found he didn’t mind

It took time, but Tom did manage to conjure the shield charm. 

Only when Harry flicked his wand the spell broke through, and Tom fell to the ground in peels of laughter. Harry held the enchantment for a long moment, watching grey eyes come alive with mirth, small body wriggling, before he waved his wand in a silent counter.

“Don’t rely on your shield alone,” Harry instructed. “You may be strong, but you’re still a first year, which means somebody else is stronger.” 

As if he needed the reminder, Tom mused bitterly, hand jerking a bit as he fought the urge to prod at his tingling bruise. Harry didn’t mention his short, derisive laugh. 

“What did you do when somebody tried to hit you at the orphanage? Dodged. It doesn’t matter that you have a wand, and spells; those aren’t the only tools available to you. You have a body - use it!”

In a way Tom appreciated the way Harry never sugarcoated anything. On the other hand, mere mention of the orphanage infuriated him. If not for the fact that Harry had been bullied himself, Tom might have held a grudge. As it was he knew Harry understood him, and what he went through. Knew that he was only mentioning that rotten place to draw a comparison and not degrade him. 

He didn’t get impatient when Tom’s second attempt failed, or his third and fourth, nor did he relent in his assault. He was strangely inspirational, Tom thought. He was encouraging, but had high expectations, and he seemed used to teaching. His patience went far further than Tom’s own extended, and he had no trouble explaining things a different way when his words didn’t click for Tom. 

But then, Tom almost instinctively knew what Harry meant. They were connected, in some odd, impossible way. 

Tom’s cheeks had burned in embarrassment when he discovered that there was no such thing as soulmates, even in the magical world. He had been so sure.

…

“You’ve gone pale.”

Tom looked down to his fading fingers with a scowl. 

“I want to spend more than a measly two hours with you,” he said, gripping the front of Harry’s robes as though it would prevent their time from coming to an end. 

“I know, darling,” Harry murmured, running a hand through his night-dark curls. “Just remember that I'm very proud of you, all right? I care for you, and that accounts for the decades we have to spend apart.”

“Harry, have I found you yet?” Tom whispers. The question hangs in the darkness, but before Harry can formulate a response Tom vanishes from his arms. 

…

“Hello darling,” Harry smiles, rather taken with the blush that lights Tom’s nose and the tips of his ears. “When are we?”

“31st of December, 1940.”

“Happy birthday, then. How does it feel to be fourteen?”

“No different than thirteen, I’d imagine,” Tom replies. 

“No?” Harry’s eyes glint wickedly. “Let’s see if we can’t brighten your day. Have you ever been ice skating, Tom?”

Tom blinked at him, eyebrows pulling together. “No,” he responds. “Have you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Something in Tom thrills at the reckless grin Harry levels him with. “We can try together, yeah? The Black Lake should be frozen over, and I know a few spells if not. The grounds should be abandoned at this time, especially considering it’s break.”

Tom stares incredulously for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “It’s past curfew, Harry. Even if it’s a holiday, I can’t be caught outside and still be chosen as a prefect next year.”

“Let’s not get caught, then,” Harry says softly, eyes sparking. 

Tom takes him in for a moment, and lets out a long sigh - mostly for show, mind you. Being cooped up in the Common Room, staring out at the Black Lake was hardly what Tom wished to be doing, regardless of the days. “Only you, Harry Potter, could talk me into doing such a thing. You’d better be practised with cushioning charms.”

A warm hand comes to grip Tom’s, pulling him towards the door. “We won’t need them,” Harry says, sounding rather assured. “You’re ridiculously graceful, so I expect you to catch me if I start to fall.” 

Harry, it turns out, is far better at keeping his balance on the slick surface. But the older boy takes both of his hands, slowly skidding backwards, balancing him so he won’t fall. And Tom is sure that when he does, he takes Harry with him.

…

Tom is standing on the balcony. Harry looks him over, absently checking for injuries. 

“You look posh,” he says, surprised. The last time he had seen Tom, he was still in second hand robes, though judging by his appearance it had been nearly a year - or an abrupt growth spurt. 

“Harry,” Tom breathes out, and all of the irritation in his posture and face smooth out as he turns and catches sight of him. Something like excitement brightens the air around him, and he reaches out, catching Harry’s sleeve and drawing him close. “You’re really here.”

“I am,” Harry smiles. “Have I kept you waiting?”

“Rather,” Tom sniffs. “It’s been nearly a year. You’ve chosen a rather poor venu, though; the Malfoy’s annual Yule Ball.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. “I suppose you’ll need to get inside and schmooze with the purebloods.” 

“That is the point in me attending,” Tom agreed lightly. “But the ball is already halfway over, and I’ve met plenty of important people already. You could join me for a dance…” 

“Inside?” Harry asked, surprised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom… if anybody but you sees me, I’m afraid of what’ll happen.”

“The music’s loud enough,” Tom offers. There’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, Harry notes. A very rare thing, for Tom is most always sure of himself. “We can dance here.” 

Harry smiles, drawing Tom’s hand into his own. “All right, but don’t be mad if I step on your toes. You’ve asked for it.”

Tom’s eyes glint. A smirk curls his lips. “Oh my,” he says, stepping close as one hand finds Harry’s waist and the other intertwines their fingers. “Have we found something I’m better at?” 

Harry snorted. “You’re better at loads,” he said, stumbling a step back when Tom begins their dance. “I’ve got nearly three years on you at the moment, and I’m positive your spell knowledge well exceeds mine.”

Tom quirks a brow. “Perhaps if you studied more?”

Harry smiled. “I started studying seriously in my Fourth year. You, however, have been at it from your First.”

“Shall we duel?”

“I’d rather we never cross wands,” Harry says lightly, but his eyes have gone dark. He grips Tom a bit tighter, posture straightening. Tom’s nearly a head shorter, like this. “This is hard to do backwards.”

“Then lead.”

Tom’s words had been half-teasing, but when Harry takes control of the dance things smooth out rather quickly. He’s clearly at least practiced in this part, and twirls Tom around the balcony without much trouble.

“There you are,” Tom says into his neck, “No more stepping on me.” 

Harry huffs a laugh, one hand rising from Tom’s waist to brush through his hair. The motion is soothing, half-remembered from the last time Tom had a fever. He leans deeper into Harry. He would join them together if he could; make them intrinsic, never able to be torn apart, not even by time. 

“I miss you,” Tom admits, like it’s a dark secret. “When you’re gone, I miss you, Harry. I’ve never missed anybody else.” 

Harry’s throat tightens. His hand continues its careful strokes, and they’ve stilled in their dancing. They sway in place.

“I wish we could be like this forever,” Harry says in turn, secret traded for secret. 

Tom makes a noise in his throat, something almost needy, and clings harder, nails digging into Harry’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he demands. “Stop leaving me.” 

Harry sighs. “I can’t,” he says. “You know I can’t, Tom.”

Tom pulls back, meeting his eyes. His face is flushed from the cold, eyes gleaming with a fierce longing. Something in Harry aches in answer.

“Let’s sit,” Harry says softly. “The sky is beautiful here.”

Tom nods, but hardly lets them pull apart. They sit, limbs tangling, but instead of staring at the stars Tom stares at Harry. Harry pretends not to notice.

An hour later, only the lingering warmth of Tom’s palm proves he was ever there at all.

…

The next time Tom appears it’s in Harry’s time. The situation is less than ideal; it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and there's an attack.

But Tom does not know the context. All he knows when he appears is that Harry is flushed, breathing hard, back pressed against a building. And Tom does not freeze like Harry sometimes does at the abrupt displacement, but strides towards Harry with a familiar determination.

It’s the look Lord Voldemort gets when he’s decided to kill Harry.

But instead, Tom presses him tighter against the building. Searches his face. And then he pushes their mouths together, lips moving insistently against Harry’s own, almost desperate to provoke a reaction. 

Apparently deciding to kiss and kill Harry inspires the same look.

There’s a moment when Harry wants, but then he pulls away, the rejection gentled by the way he cradles Tom’s cheek. 

“Tom, I -”

Harry's eyes flick up from Tom’s, catching a movement,  and his hands drop as though burned. He’s quick to grab Tom by the hips and switch their positions, putting his body between Tom and Voldemort as he took in the tall, serpentine Lord. 

Voldemort’s smile was a cruel, mirthless thing. “Playing house with one of my horcruxes, Harry? How… unexpected.”

Harry swallowed. So Voldemort didn’t know, then -  he didn’t remember, though Harry had figured as much. 

“Tom, stay behind me and avoid his eyes.” 

“Harry, who—”

“Please, Tom!”

Tom stepped back, but he didn’t move quickly enough to avoid a bolt of purple light.

‘Bugger,’ Harry thought, body jerking in front of Tom instinctively, taking the hit. 

The spell has no evident effect beyond freezing him in place, and a strongly thought Finite Incantatum saw him free. Still, Harry did not shift; he would use any advantage he could get, and Voldemort thinking him helpless was certainly an advantage.

“What shall I do with you now, Harry?” Voldemort hissed, a demented smile pulling his lips up. 

“Avada Ked—“

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried. Tom’s wand flew from his hand, smacking Harry’s palm. Well, so much for that plan. “Expelliarmus!”

“Crucio.”

The spells slammed together and the magic splintered, the wand's magic dying as it recognized it was being turned against itself. 

Voldemort’s eyes burned. “How do you have that wand?”

Harry watched him carefully, backing up until his hip pressed against Tom. He pressed the yew wand into warm hands, not daring to take his eyes off Voldemort to see his expression. 

Tom inhaled sharply, and he was too clever to not connect the dots. When he spoke his voice was torn between horror and fury. “There’s no way.”

“You need to go,” Harry hissed back. “Now.” 

“We haven’t exactly figured out how to control it—”

“Tom,” Harry snapped. The other teen quieted, and Harry heard fabric shift. “Repeat after me: lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

“Harry—”

“Do you want to die?” 

There was a long pause. A hand pressed over Harry’s spine, almost too hard to be a comfort. 

“Lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

The air shifted, and the warm pressure of spindly fingers against Harry’s back melted away. 

Harry and Voldemort stared each other down from across a field.

“It seems,” Voldemort hissed, “we have much to discuss, Harry.”

#time travel au #Tomarry #I love coming across things I forgot I wrote #and getting that spark of surprised joy #this was written many years ago. I hope it can bring someone a quick smile. #my writing

[fragilefangirl]

I do think that Coryo fell in love with Lucy Gray, but i also fully believe that such love would never have been possible had he not be given the near-total control over her fate in the games, and by extension, her fate in the Capitol.

Listen. Here is a boy who has nothing but his last name, posing around pretending like he owned everything while scrambling for a scrap of something. Here is a boy who had to share everything he had ever owned, who was never fully in control of anything except for his words.  Here is a boy, who, due to the lie he's been controlling, can never let anyone in -- not even his pseudo-older sister and not even his most affectionate classmate -- for it poses the risk of being perceived, and potentially punished for his lack of ownership.

And then suddenly this boy -- who's so desperate to own something -- is granted the ownership of another person  a full-pass to control everything about her; her words, her image, her story. And sure, she wasn't his first pick, but the thought of having something gave him a sense of relief and dignity his lies could never give him, and that dignity, that slight restoration of confidence, gave way for that first crack on his chest after being guarded for so long.

And then the person he "owned" showed up, and she was the most interesting person of the pick. She gave the people a show and she made a song on top of it, turning his confidence to pride. I truly believe that had he been assigned to another person, he would not have showed up to the train station, simply due the fact that they were not interesting enough to warrant his  visit -- or his grandma'am's roses. Him showing up to the train wasn't just done in goodwill; it was also a stake of ownership -- it was him, acknowledging to himself that this was something worth owning, and like other things worth owning, it could be taken away from him if he lets his guard slips.

And that becomes the initial foundation to their interaction; the talking, the bringing up food... sure, Lucy Gray was interesting, but he was detached of her charm in those first meeting, seeing her in the lens of how others might measure her and her worth. his main focus was "taking care of her"; making sure his precious thing survived, making sure his ownership of her -- and thus his pride -- will not dissipate.

And then the tributes started plotting to kill him, only to be stopped by Lucy Gray. Sure, for her, he might seem as if he was doing something a kind -- even if useless -- meeting her in this run-down train station, and that perhaps was part of the reason why she defended him, and part of the reason why she stood by him in that Zoo cage. But for Coryo, his visit was calculated, his rose a chip of bargain, his zoo visit a byproduct of refusing to be caught slipping. For him, Lucy Gray stepping up for him was uncalled for, a surprising kindness.

He tried to rationalize it best as he could, but he was stumped. And I think this was when he started to really listen to Lucy Gray, to stop being detached from her. He was his father's son, and he believed in knowing the things he owned in order to properly maintain it. And it was this desire to know that melted his walls, that made him vulnerable, because to understand her fully he opened himself up to be understood, which had never happened before.

I think Coryo did love Lucy Gray, however tainted and terrible that love was. I think it was the first time of him making the effort to perceive someone and be reciprocated back -- fully, thoroughly, and wholeheartedly. It helped (or didn't help?) That Lucy Gray was a poet, that she fed him with pretty words; the only things that -- up until she showed up -- he'd ever truly owned for himself. For him, that connection -- added over the fact that he had "owned her", as everyone else kept saying -- must have felt like a drug. It must have felt intoxicating, to own something so lovely, something that adored him. It must have been a new, exhilarating feeling for Coryo, who never owned anything but worthless scraps and his pretty, pretty words. And yes, that was such a terrible way to put it, but love is many things; it can be terrible too.

I think Coryo loved Lucy Gray, and had they stayed in Capitol, he would have been able to continue to "love her". Billy Taupe was just some name, the Covey some story. What for Lucy Gray was history, was only pretty words for him. For all he chose to believe in, they could be the same pretty words he said; mostly lie, some exaggeration. In the Capitol, she is his, fully. And Coryo can love only what he owns.

But they didn't stay at Capitol, they moved to twelve. Suddenly, all her pretty words were honest and real, something he couldn't ignore, much less control. Suddenly, there was the Covey, and Billy Taupe, and Mayor Lipp, and even if her eyes were for him only he still had to share the rest of her -- her voice, her charm, her poise -- with other people. Twelve highlighted that he'd never truly owned her, we all know that. But here's another thing that twelve highlighted; it was him who chose to be the soldier in a rundown district, him who chose to follow her. If there was any ownership to be had here, it was her that owned him.

And Coryo? He doesn't share, yes, but worse than anything, he despises being owned.

This is where TBOSAS shone its brilliance; president Snow is the way he was not because he is an unfeeling sadist the was Volumnia Gaul is. He was the way he was because of love. Because of the vulnerability that comes with that love, and the refusal to surrender to it. President Snow would not be as ruthless and despicable had he been desensitized, and it was his feelings, his capability to love, that led him to employ some of the most gruesome tactics to win the games.

Here's the heartbreaking thing; once upon a time, Coryo loves Lucy Gray, and that love was true. Here's another heartbreaking thing; that love was built on poison, and its toxic vines ruined him so completely, decimated him so thoroughly, he was reborn anew evil; president Snow would not have happened without Lucy Gray, without Coryo's time in Twelve.

President Snow said, "it's the thing we love most that destroys us," and he said this as a warning to Katniss, yes, but he also said it to Coryo's shadow, standing behind her, who was looking at the back of the Girl on Fire, thinking the wavy black hair and the whispered songs were that of someone else's.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #lucoryo #coryo x lucy gray #their toxic ship is toxicing #and i am intoxicated #does this make sense? no #do i care? no #the hunger games #thg

[heartmii]

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

✮⋆˙ next

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"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

#ꨄ𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝ꨄ #pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #trials of Apollo X reader #pjo hoo toa #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo #trials of Apollo #apollo x reader #apollo x male reader #Percy Jackson X reader #nico di angelo x reader #nico diAngelo X male reader #heroes of olympus x reader #male reader

[blueeofsl]

Page 17. We see that Donnie is just laughing at the joke now. It might be because it’s right after Leo sobbing for a while and then he just pulls that joke out of nowhere, or the fact that Donnie is exhausted. Or maybe, Donnie just really missed his stupid jokes

But it relaxes Donnie out of whatever caffeine or adrenaline high he’s been in for so long, and he passes out on Leo. Literally laughs himself to sleep.

However for Leo, this was probably really worrying. Because Donnie was active and talking to him and suddenly he’s passed out. (Also is it just me or does it look like Leo’s stump is sorta holding Donnie’s head up?)

~~~~~

In Page 18, Leo gently lays Donnie down on the bed he had woken up from. Staring at Donnie the whole way through with a sort of attentiveness to any sort of discomfort/pain.

He’d probably noticed the eyebags under Donnies eyes too.

In the second panel, Leo’s worry shows through again and seems to need to take a breath before checking Donnie’s pulse in panel three.

The fact that Donnie lets this happen so willingly (even when passed out. I would guess that over the years in the apocalypse, the turtles have learned a way to protect themselves even in their sleep.) shows that he is fully out and probably wont wake up for a while.

~~~~~

In page 19, notice how there wasn’t just one panel being used to show Leo focusing on Donnie’s pulse, but two. We can tell by Leo’s facial expression that he’s still having doubts of seeing Donnie alive again.

Still doubting that things are real in the third panel as he goes to check his own pulse. His own pulse being much quicker than Donnies. This could be because of the fact that Donnie’s asleep while Leo is awake. Or it could be the fact that Leo is very alert now that he’s alone.

In the last panel, Leo finally lets himself say what he’s thinking at the moment “what the fuck”. I don’t think ive ever read those words with so much emotion behind them because yes. Leo is just… so confused on how he got here. He has no clue that they’re in the present timeline, where Donnie can resurrect people. He has no idea if there are other people out there other than him and Donnie. He doesn’t even know that the sky is now free of krang and is blue instead of the apocalyptic red.

The last panel also shows us that Leo is also finally starting to take note of his surroundings, past just trying to reach for Donnie.

~~~~~

Some other theories/notes; I’m guessing that Leo is going to need a lot of guidance/reassurance of the fact that things are real and that he can relax. Like Casey, he probably wont be a fan of the big crowds in NYC and would rather stay hidden.

I’m also guessing that the family will have some sort of “talk” about what has happened overall. The war, the people they’ve lost, everything. Maybe Cass wont add this in, but I think Mikey will try to have everyone at least address the fact that not only are they survivors, but they are also veterans from a long, long war.

~~~~~~~~~~

Phew… that was a lot of writing! Loved checking through all 59 panels and finding the little details/ focusing on the emotion Cass was trying to portray there.

Would like to thank @somerandomdudelmao for the comics and also @tapakah0 and @ryanthel0ser for being wonderful motivators hehe

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3 (here)

#the way that I did this in 2 and a half hours #hungover too #brainrot go brrrrr #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #future leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #cass apocalyptic series #rise of the turtles #I literally woke up #and just started writing nonstop #over 3000 words dear god

[venusiangguk]

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻,  and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t. 

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes. 

 It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

 I still miss you.

 “Girl, what does that even mean?”

 Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

 “Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

 “I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you. 

 You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

 Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.” 

 “Die.”

 “C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

 Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage. 

 You also don’t get those texts anymore.

 With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

 “No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

 Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

 “Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

 You nod pitifully.

 “She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,��� Binna adds.

 With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

 Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

 It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

 “Has he reached out to you at all?”

 The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective. 

 Did you get home okay?

 Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave. 

 He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

 Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

 And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least. 

 Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless. 

 But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless. 

 Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.  

 The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on. 

 A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly. 

 If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you. 

 It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty. 

 The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real. 

 You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

 Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

 Dasom.

 The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her. 

 An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both. 

 But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

 It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.  

 Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

 You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months. 

 Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

 When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

 “God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

 “A man,” Jade reasons.

 It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

 She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

 She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

 “He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

 “He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

 Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

 Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

 But you do not care and your phone is already out. 

 You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

 “He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

 “Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

 With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?” 

 “You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

 Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her. 

 Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for. 

 “Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

 You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

 Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

 “No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

 “Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

 It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

 And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

 Just a couple of weeks ago. 

 And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason. 

 Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

 Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

 Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person. 

 You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

 The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

 It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work. 

 When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

 In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

 And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it. 

 Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

 “He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

 Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

 “Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

 You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

 Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly. 

 Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing. 

 “We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

 “Binna!” Jade scolds.

 “No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

 “She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

 “In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

 When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

 “I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

 Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point. 

 You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

 ~~~

 The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time. 

 When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

 And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart. 

 You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

 “I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

 The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

 “You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

 You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

 When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

 The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

 “Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

 You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

 His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

 Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants. 

 The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert. 

 “I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.” 

 Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

 There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy. 

 “Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

 He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

 Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

 “I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

 He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

 And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up. 

 You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

 But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him. 

 ~~~

 The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets. 

 Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club. 

 Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get. 

 Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

 However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for. 

 It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

 You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

 Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses. 

 To no avail.

 With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

 He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?” 

 Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

 You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

 But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features. 

 When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights. 

 And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine. 

 But, to you, he’s not really anything special. 

 Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him. 

 Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. 

Because you already know what makes someone special to you. 

 You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand. 

 The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you. 

 He’s not what you want.

 You hum when you admit it to yourself. 

 “I’m not.”

 Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

 Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

 “You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

 His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

 “Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room. 

 It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are. 

 Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings. 

 “I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–” 

 “Wait, I didn’t think that–”

 “–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

 A couple of stilted seconds pass. 

 “In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

 “I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out. 

 Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying. 

 “You’re still young–”

 You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

 “Please shut the fuck up.”

 The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

 “Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?” 

 Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

 Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

 Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

 “He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

 He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

 “7 years?” you try.

 Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

 Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

 He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

 “He told you that you were too young?”

 You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate. 

 Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

 “I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

 Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

 “Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

 Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

 “This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

 “I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

 “A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

 “Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

 “‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

 “Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

 “Yes, I ca–”

 “Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm. 

 You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

 “Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

 Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

 Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

 Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

 Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house. 

 You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

 Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

 You pause now. 

 “Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

 A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers. 

 What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

 “Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

 Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

 Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

 You sniffle. “Huh?”

 His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

 “Gee, thanks–”

 “No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

 “Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

 Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness. 

 He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

 You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

 “Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

 Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up. 

 You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

 Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

 “Yup.”

 “It may help–”

 “Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

 He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

 “I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

 It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. 

 A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. 

 “See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

 You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

 “If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

 You’re definitely going to cry.

 “And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

 With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

 It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

 Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years? 

 And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

 The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

 “He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye. 

 Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

 “Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place. 

 A short staring contest ensues.

 “Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure. 

 Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel. 

 But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that. 

 “That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

 “Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!” 

 It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it. 

 With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

 He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

 Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.  

 There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

 You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

 And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead. 

 “Can I get your number?”

 ~~~

 It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

 Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

 Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

 Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart. 

 So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything. 

 After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.  

 As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

 As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference. 

 As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips. 

 As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

 As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

 The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed. 

 But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page. 

 Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

 BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !! 

 Jeongguk taps open the comments.

 flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

 He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

 Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long. 

 But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post. 

 He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest. 

 The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn. 

 The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop. 

 Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

 ~~~

 He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

 “And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare. 

 With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

 “Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

 He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

 Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.  

 After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

 It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush. 

 Jeongguk is still so jealous. 

 He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir. 

 They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

 Jeongguk knows he should say something. 

 Explain. 

 Say sorry. 

 Ask for forgiveness. 

 But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

 In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him. 

 As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours. 

 He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it. 

 Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

 Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad. 

 It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality. 

 Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

 But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him. 

 You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him. 

 It looks internal, so personal. 

 Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety. 

 Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

 Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him. 

 You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

 He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

 “I’m sorry!”

 Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him. 

 Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

 “I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

 When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over. 

 As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case. 

 “I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

 Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

 When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve. 

 “I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

 You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

 “What about you? Have you been okay?”

 Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

 He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same. 

 Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.  

 But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head. 

 Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks. 

 He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

 A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

 He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

 Take care Gguk.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing. 

  It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him. 

 Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

 ~~~

 Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

 The moment is short-lived. 

 “Where’s Jeongguk?”

 The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

 “What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

 Binna and Jade exchange a look. 

 “Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

 You slow blink at them a single time.

 An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore. 

 “Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

 Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

 Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

 “Fair but–”

 The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

 “Wait, did you not want to work things out?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

 “Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily. 

 “Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?” 

 Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?” 

 “You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

 The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

 “You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

 He came back to you.

 It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next. 

 You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be? 

 Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

 You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met? 

 You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

 You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker. 

 “Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

 Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

 Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

 “___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

 And maybe it is. 

 ~~~

 It definitely isn’t.

 Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote. 

 And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

 You don’t even really know how it happened. 

 One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior. 

 All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

 You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

 It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

 He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by. 

 Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to. 

 There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar. 

 You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

 Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks. 

 Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself. 

 So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

 Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

 His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone. 

 “You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

 The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you. 

 “It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

 Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

 When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you. 

 Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his. 

 “It’s been months,” you tell him. 

 As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been. 

 Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment. 

 “Why now?” you question him.

 Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound. 

 The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

 While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers. 

 “I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

 Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

 “That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

 “I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

 The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants. 

 “I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

 “Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

 Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness. 

 He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?” 

 When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement. 

 The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned. 

 He’s still just as scared as he was. 

 Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did. 

 He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

 Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

 When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

 But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you. 

 It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder. 

 A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you. 

 It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

 “It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.” 

 And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

 “It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember. 

 He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.” 

 Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

 “I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

 Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.” 

 There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for. 

 But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of. 

 Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you. 

 It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable. 

 Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

 Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that. 

 It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume. 

 The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.  

 Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult. 

 Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

 It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you. 

 Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands. 

 He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response. 

 “I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.” 

 “Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

 “There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room. 

 “The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

 Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would. 

 But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that. 

 “But then I met you.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t. 

 But alas.

 “All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

 His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

 You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

 Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

 Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

 The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

 “I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

 “Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact. 

 Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

 “I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

 Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

 Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

 “And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

 He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee. 

 “___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

 You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

 “It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

 “That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

 At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his. 

 He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology. 

 And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

 Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

 “I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

 “I know, I know you are– I am too–”

 “Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.” 

 Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 “I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.” 

 The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little. 

 Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?” 

 Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt. 

 Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

 And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.  

 “Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

 The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

 “Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

 A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly. 

 The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room. 

 He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize. 

 Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said. 

 He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him. 

 The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick. 

 “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

 The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

 “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

 “I know,” you reassure, gently. 

 And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember. 

 “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say. 

 It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it. 

 Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

 You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own. 

 “Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

 You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

 But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them. 

 And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other. 

 So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together. 

 It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have. 

 But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

 Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

 Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

 You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

 “Actually,” you start. 

 So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up. 

 “Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

 Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

 A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

 You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

 Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly. 

 And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault. 

 “No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–” 

 It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

 He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?” 

 You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

 The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

 “No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

 The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

 “Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

 Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

 “___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

 You nod once.

 “I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

 “Okay,” you breathe.

 “I should have listened to you.”

 Again, you nod.

 “I should have chosen you.”

 It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

 “But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

 Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

 He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then. 

 Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak. 

 “No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

 Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

 “I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

 The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova. 

 “I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”  

 Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

 “I want to try.” 

 “Yeah–”

 “If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

 When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

 But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without. 

 He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

 You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

 This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

 Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

 “What do you want to be?”

 “Yours.” 

 Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

 Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice. 

 “My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

 When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.” 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory. 

 Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time. 

 His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh. 

 “I…”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes. 

 The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm. 

 The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch. 

 It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near. 

 It ends with a kiss.

 Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless. 

 Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you. 

 “Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.  

 “I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–” 

 You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

 He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you. 

 “Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

 Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow. 

 “Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants. 

 A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

 Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

 You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt. 

 Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

 His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back. 

 There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours. 

 “You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected. 

 Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout. 

 “I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

 You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

 When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

 He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

 He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing. 

 And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly. 

 Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.  

 “Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers. 

 He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame. 

 “Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

 Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

 Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can. 

 He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too. 

 And what a pretty sight you are. 

 Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.  

 As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

 “Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags. 

 He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch. 

 “Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten. 

 “Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

 Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties. 

 He allows you your own pace as well. 

 Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you. 

 Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now. 

 Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.  

 “Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline. 

 “But I–”

 “But I–” he flirts coyly. 

 Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.  

 Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so. 

 He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember. 

 Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

 But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his? 

 You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

 His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

 Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively. 

 Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.  

 Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled. 

 When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

 He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”,  your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open. 

 Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

 When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest. 

 He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug. 

 As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

 “This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

 Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry. 

 Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms. 

 You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

 He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs. 

 “Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better. 

 Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl. 

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

 Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice. 

 Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

 You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

 A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

 You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

 “Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

 Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you. 

 “You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb. 

 “Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp. 

 Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs. 

 Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall. 

 “Too much?” he asks you.

 With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

 Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least. 

 Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb. 

 The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

 When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly. 

 “Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

 And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.  

 When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

 There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

 “It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

 Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

 “Please–”

 “Hush, ___.” 

 There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue. 

 “I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

 It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

 “I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

 Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

 Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute. 

 He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

 You shrug, snooty. 

 Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

 Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

 He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

 “That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

 And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.   

 Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in. 

 Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

 Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side. 

 Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention. 

 Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh. 

 “I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

 Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

 “Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

 “Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

 Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible. 

 Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

 “That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

 He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused. 

 Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny. 

 You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

 “Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

 Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest. 

 You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?” 

 “You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

 “It’s mine,” you argue.

 “Ours,” he corrects.

 After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

 It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

 When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly. 

 “Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

 Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away. 

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

 You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time. 

 “Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy. 

 Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

 “I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision. 

 In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

 “You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily. 

 Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

 The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

 You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs. 

 “All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper. 

 Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

 The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.” 

 Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

 He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.  

 Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

 You nod in his hold. 

 “Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

 You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks. 

 The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit. 

 Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once. 

 “You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

 Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

 His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.  

 He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

 “Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

 You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes. 

 “I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently. 

 On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

 Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses. 

 After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue. 

 “My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

  He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

 Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

 “Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

 Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

 When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

 You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

 “Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk. 

 He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

 While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

 Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

 Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

 “I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

 “Your mess–”

 “Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

 Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

 “Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

 And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands. 

 You suppose some things may never change.

 The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you. 

 His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

 Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole. 

 In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

 That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

 You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high. 

 It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

 And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens. 

 But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.   

 “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

 He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

 “I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

 You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again. 

 His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

 You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy. 

 With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

 The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

 “You’re so hard…” 

 The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin. 

 “Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

 He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

 The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

 You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

 Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow. 

 The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off. 

 Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

 “What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

 You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully. 

 “Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

 Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

 “Like this?” you ask, coquettishly. 

 Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

 “Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth. 

 You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

 “Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

 Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

 Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

 Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.��

 Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in. 

 Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm. 

 He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

 The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks. 

 “I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again. 

 You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

 “Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

 The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.  

 Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

 He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’. 

 “I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

 It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him. 

 “You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

 And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

 Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum. 

 “Not– not yet?” 

 Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown. 

 A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant. 

 “Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape. 

 Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

 And you can tell he’s going to cum. 

 He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.  

 It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

 “Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

 His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm. 

 Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

 He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

 His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

 “Good girl,” he says, softly.

 His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

 Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs. 

 “Can we do it now?”

 His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused. 

 “Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

 You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

 He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

 Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock. 

 One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses.. 

 He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening. 

 “Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

 He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

 Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

 “Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again. 

 Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think. 

 “No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips.. 

 His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

 Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

 You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?” 

 He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.  

 “On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

 With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear. 

 “Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

 Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan. 

 The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

 “I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

 “Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

 You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

 Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him. 

 But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long. 

 The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs. 

 And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

 “Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.” 

 You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle. 

 It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making. 

 Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

 He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.” 

 Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

 “Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

 Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you. 

 “Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

 You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

 ~~~

 “Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

 The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand. 

 He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

  It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

 “So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

 He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut. 

 “You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

 But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

 “Everything is your fault.”

 It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

 “Hey,” he says gently.

 You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

 Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

 You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

 “I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

 Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you. 

 “I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

 And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal. 

 “Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

 “As long as you want me.”

 Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

 His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

 There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not. 

 So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?” 

 ~~~ 

 However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

 But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. 

 It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

 It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

 You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

 The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

 “That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

 The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly. 

 And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche. 

 “Of fucking course.”

 “___.”

 “No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

 Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your. 

 “Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

 His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

 With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid. 

 You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

 Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

 When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway. 

 “I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

 And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

 As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

 Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

 But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

 “___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you. 

 “Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused. 

 Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal. 

 You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!!  i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fic #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook fic recs #jungkook oneshot #jungkook series #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #kpop #kpop fanfic

[amorchai]

📁 ₊˚⊹ "i'm gonna teach you how to kiss" with jj maybank !! pls i know you would write him so well !

jj teaches you how to kiss.

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader

words: 781

warnings/tags: pet names, mentions of embarrassment, r being inexperienced when it comes to kissing, + jj being jj, this isn’t based off season three, i haven’t watched it yet so cleo hasn’t been placed as a main in this.

a/n: jj was so suited for this one you know him too well omg, prompt taking from prompts via my boyfriend.

“y/n, what was your first great kiss?” john b had asked. it had been a question going around the group, each answering their own story of them getting past the awkward kissing stage and experiencing their first good kiss.

you had dreaded it coming to you, staying quiet in hope they forget, but your heart falls to your stomach when john b asks. everyone is now looking, jj with an amused, waiting look while sarah looks completely intrigued to see what your answer is.

“uh…” you trail off, not wanting to lie but also unable to think of one at the same time. “oh, come on, you have been kissed before, right?” asks kiara, her expression dropping at the end in realisation that maybe you haven’t.

“yeah. just never knew what i was doing, i guess.”

jj sits up, mouth slightly agape, “you’ve never had a great kiss? never enjoyed one before?” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment, trying to hide your shy expression at the sudden interrogation.

“it’s okay, that’s nothing to be ashamed of…” sarah trails off, interrupting jj’s shocked gaze, “no it’s not that, it’s just- it’s y/n.” the rest of the group laugh at him, knowing jj for one to constantly talk about you.

it quickly moves onto another topic, kiara noticing your embarrassed state of fidgeting hands and restless legs and it wasn’t brought up again until the stars were out.

pope was asleep on one side of the bonfire while you watched, feeling the warmth and listening to the rest of the group laughing and shouting by the water. and your content state starts to smile knowingly when you see jj jogging back towards you.

“hey, bored?” jj asks, sitting down next to you, his bare shoulder bumping yours and you shiver. “no, i’m good. you know pope would freak out if he wakes up and none of us is there.”

jj laughs at this, lounging against the tree stump behind and looking at you longingly. you could feel it, tearing your eyes slowly away from the orange flames and to jj’s blue gaze.

he’s looking all across your features, every inch until landing to your lips as they part with a long breathe, “you’ve really never had a good kiss before?”. you’re both quiet, whispers catching due to the close proximity, jj leaning further towards you.

“i told you, j. i don’t really know how it works still,” you say honestly because if jj kisses you right now he would be disappointed by the inexperience. but jj doesn’t waver, in fact his hand reaches up to dance his fingers delicately across your cheek while leaning further in.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask alarmed, jj mimicking your expression while assuring you, “i’m gonna teach you how to kiss.” he says it as if it’s simple, as if it’s a normal part of being friends.

you know the moment his lips touch yours, your feelings for him would only grow stronger which is a dangerous game. but seeing him so close and feeling his breath against your lips pull you in.

“okay?” jj asks, pausing, eyebrows raising and you nod, “okay.”

his smile is wide, scanning your lips before moving his grip to your chin, angling it so your lips line to his before whispering his last lines, “just follow what i do, you’ll get it in no time, honey.”

before you could properly process, jj’s lips are against yours and your eyes close immediately. there’s an internal panic, wondering what to do as jj moves his lips slowly against yours, but jj smiles while both his hands firmly hold my face.

“just move your lips with mine,” he murmurs against your lips, and the internal panic seizes into nothing, your thoughts pulled from your head until all you can focus on is jj.

he moves more desperately when you kiss back, the feeling unlike anything else as he moves further towards you. “that’s it, baby,” jj says against your mouth, unwilling to pull away just yet and you only kiss back, so wrapped up.

you could get used to this, very easily. only if it was jj’s lips, and by the way he’s holding you and kissing you makes you believe he felt the same. you would find out later, hesitant to pull away as his nose nudges yours while he moves his head.

“could you do that inside, please?” you both pull away at the voice, pope glaring at you both tiredly before his head lobs down to go back to sleep and jj kisses your cheek before reaching for your hand, “he makes a good point.”

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#— ꒰꒰ ➵ my works ｡˚ ꒱꒱ #outer banks┊ ➶ ˚⊹ jj maybank ⊹ #— ꒰꒰ ₊˚⊹ uni break celebration ꒱꒱ #jj maybank #outer banks #obx x reader #obx #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff

[mysinsforventi]

~💜~ If I'm your truth, can you be my lie? ~💜~

~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~

dom! Lyney x sub! f. reader

(reader ISN'T traveler!!)

+ 18 (minors DNI!!!) (all characters in this are adults!)

(This was written before 4.1 release! Characters are not canon! Just my AU!)

Warnings:

(THERE IS A LOT!!): not canon (ooc), a bit of arlecchino x lumine at the end (just minor) , angst, smut, dark themes, cursing, manipulation, gaslighting, pedophile noble man, drugging minors, kidnapping, trauma, death/ murder, lying , self hatred, betrayal, anxiety, depression, identity issues, anger issues, rough sex, nipple/clit clips, anal sex, vibrator, double penetration, master-kink, breeding, creampie, overstimulation, name-calling, discrimination, spanking, a bit voyeurism?, dirty talk, teasing, oral sex both, fingering, reader crying (out of pleasure), hickeys, bitemarks, possesive behavior, obsession, fatui lyney, bit yanderer lyney, (let me know if I forgot something!!)

About:

As lumine's & paimon's travel companien you had the luck of seeing a lot of things, meeting a lot of people. There was never a time you were not grateful for beeing so close with the legend traveler. That all changed after entering fontain. Fontain the nation of justice. It changed you forever. All because a special magican boy has his eyes on you. Showing a huge amount of interest in you.

Neither of you knew, you were all just puzzle pieces of a much bigger game. Well one person knew.. or is it all just a lie? Then what is the truth? Can you be HIS truth? After all he is YOUR lie. Will the traveler lose another important person or win another good friend? Who is the mastermind behind these events? Who is 'the knave' really? Who is betraying who?

Blinded by a lie you try to find the truth. What a great magic trick. Creating a lie for you. Actually you were blinded by the truth, trying to find a lie..

~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~

(I noted were the nsfw part starts and where it ends, because the ff is so long! ♡ )

(Another fanfic I'll go to hell for! I'm acutally very proud of this one lmao! Please enjoy~♡)

~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~

Fontain, the nation of justice. Lumine and paimon, your best friends and you just arrived here. You had overcome many difficulties since your first days in mondstadt. So you walked with confindence along the habor of fontain. Yet neither of you had any idea that this would be your last journey together. That the nation of justice would take something else from the traveler. The only hope, besides her good friend paimon, she still had left. What tragedy..

"I heard that here in fontain they use all kind of different machines!", paimon explained, floating infront of the both of you. You looked at the huge waterfall and smiled amazed, "What a sight!! Did you ever see something like this on your travels lumine?", you asked curiously, looking over at your friend. The traveler nodded her head as she smiled, "One time there was a huge waterfall that moved backwards. The people used to keep whales as their pets and ride on them~", lumine explained while giggeling to herself. "W-WHALES??", paimon asked shocked. You glared at lumine, "You are messing with me right?!", as you laughed. "What?! And paimon trusted you!!", your floating friend pouted, stumping her foot in the air. This made all of you laugh, "noo the betrayal!!~~", you added in a dramatic voice and laughed more.

After you calmed down you decided to talk to a girl looking into the water for a while. Scared she would jump in. "Are you alright?", paimon asked the girl. "Huh? Oh! Yes I'm fine, thanks for asking!", the girl said, continueing to stare into the water. "We don't mean to bother you it's just you looked worried so we wanted to ask if everything is okay?", paimon tried again. "Please don't jump! This might be weird coming from a stranger but it's not worth it!", you added, looking worried, mentally getting ready to jump in after her.

The girl finally turned around to you, "I wasn't going to jump. There is no reason to worry. I was just looking at a hill were my brother and I played as kids", she said, smiling a bit softly at you before going back to this emotionless expression of hers. Did she just smile? No you must be seeinh things, all this way through the dessert must've messed with your head.

"Well hello there, I don't think we had the pleasure of meeting yet? Are you lynettes new friends?", a boy, looking very much the same as the girl asked, walking towards us. "No we just wanted to ask if everything is okay and got to talking", you answered with a smile, "even tho we don't got what she was saying..", paimon added, lumine nodded with a gently smile. "Mhh I see thats odd. Usually lynette never talk much, especially not with strangers. The only one she ever talks is with me. I'm lyney and thats my sister lynette~", the boy, lyney said with a bright smile on his lips. "Nice to meet you lyney and lynette, I'm y/n, the travelers companien", you said, "paimon is paimon and thats the traveler", she smiles at the twins before us.

"Y/n what a magical name..", lyney laughed and looked in your eyes with a soft gaze. You smiled back and giggeld, "Thank you lyney, your name reminds me of sugar, it sounds sweet~". Lyney blushed at that and coughed. This made lynette laugh quietly. You giggled as lumine and paimon just hit their hand on their heads.

Back then you didn't even realise how much impact this moment had. This interaction between all of you. The soft gaze, the warm, charming smile, the sweet words leaving his mouth that lyney gave you. The caring looks, the short, happy smiles, the purring that lynette gave you. You had no idea what that would mean in the future..

"The opera house? Sure let's go there later I just have to take care of something here first", lyney said, looking at the traveler with a smile.

Would you look at that.. it's not the same smile he gives you. You never noticed... He always treats you different from the travler somehow?? Not that you were jelaous but you never noticed this fact about lyney. Does he do this with all people? You wondered.

You all walked towards the aquabus. It was such a nice view from up here. The aquabuses looked so cool. Music was ringing through some speakers. You listened to it as you sat on the aquabus, waiting for it to move. The song was an interesting one. Yet sadly you couldn't understand the whole lyrics of it. But it went something like this:

//

… I'm sorry that I did this

The blood is on my hands

I stare at my reflection

I don't know who I am

Practice my confession

In case I take the stand

I'll say I learned my lesson

I'll be a better man

… I'm packing up my things

And I'm wiping down the walls

I'm rinsing off my clothes

And I'm walking through the halls

I did it all for her

So I felt nothing at all

I don't know what she'll say

So I'll ask her when she calls.

//

"Do you like this song?", lyney sat down next to you, blocking your view of the speakers. A warm smile on his face. You nodded, "It sounded good. I just wished I could've understood the lyrics some more but it echeos here so much haha", you giggeled, looking at lyney. He laughed to and pulled a card from his sleeve only to show it to you, "Sometimes the deeper you look the less enjoyable something gets my dear. Try to enjoy the song for the melody not for it's meaning. Happiness suits you better then a confused stare~", with that the magican threw the card into the air only to make a rose appeare. "Look what I have here for you~ So that what was hiding in my hat~", lyney gave the rose to you and smiled.

You paused as your eyes widened. Thanks to your boyfriend lyney you knew all cards and what the meant. Back then you couldn't have noticed but now.. the card that he showed you was a reversed magican!  The reversed magician is a master of illusion. The magic that he performs is one of deception and trickery. You may be lured in by the showmanship of his arts, but behind that there may be an intention to manipulate for selfish gain...

Why did he show you this card? Has it something to do with the song you heard?

Looking at all the pictures of your photos together you still didn't think lyney was the murderer. Someone else must've framed him! You stood up as you walked outside of your teapot room, "lumine? I couldn't find anything either! I really don't think lyney would do such a thing you know!..", you sounded sad, upset. The traveler came to you to hug you, "We will prove your boyfriends innocence y/n! Don't worry okay?~", she smiled caressing your back. It has been almost 2 months since lyney and you were official dating. Yet it felt like two days since you two met. It is crazy. But you are so in love with him, your feelings for him were strong. So of course you would help him if he was accused of murder and had to stand trail! Lyney is a innocenct, good soul!

Or at least so you thought..

~ 💜 ~ The Trail ~ 💜 ~

You sit there, in the court, in the crowd, watching lyney's trail. Even if you just started dating not to long ago, you didn't believe a single thing that was said against him. Lyney was a kind soul, he would never do, such things! That was what you thought in the beginning of the trail. But now.. you weren't so sure anymore.. are you hurt? Is it the shock? You looked to your traveler friend, lumine. She seemed shocked as well, even more than you. For her it must be even worse than for you..

"Aren't you, mr lyney & you, mrs lynette both part of the house of the hearth?!", furina, the hydro archon just asked. A question that didn't really wanted to click in your head. Lyney? House of the hearth? Fatui? Bad person? There was so much going on in your head, yet your mind was completly blank. What did this mean?

After a few seconds you understood. You understood very well. But.. it has to be a missunderstanding right? Lyney would never..

"Answer my question mr. lyney!", the chief justice, nevieultte asked. Silence. You looked up to lyney, hoping to see a look of shock on his face. But there wasn't.. It looked more like.. guilt? Sadness? Maybe both? Clearly he feels bad that people think that way about him right? Poor lyney he really doesn't deserve this! "Yes your honor, it's the truth!", lyney answered with a serious look on his face.

Your breath stopped for seconds. The same words echoed in your mind. It is true? How did you never notice? Did he use you to get to know the traveler better? You looked up to your friend, lumine. She also looked down to you. Her face said it all.. hurt, disappointed, sad for you. But lumine quickly realised by just looking at you that you didn't know either.

Your heart hurted. Was it all just a lie? Maybe he never liked you.. it was all just a 'script' as furina put it? Actually you didn't know why you are so shocked. You kind of suspecte he hid something from you. You guessed right so why the hard feelings? The answer is simple really, because you are blinded by love. You fell right into his charm, into his trap, his illusion. Even now, your heart tells you it will be alright. He is a villain and? He murders people and? He is a liar and manipulator and? You still loved him! You always would no matter who he was or what he will become in the future. Caught in his charming web, no way of escape.

"Mr Lyney & Mrs Lynette are declared NOT GUILTY!!", finally the end of the trial was here. And you smiled, you were so happy. Even if lyney is a fatui at least he didn't hurt someone. Of course you still would ask for an explaination of him later! You still loved him after all, yet your trust issues are sending warn signals in your head through your whole body. Something still doesn't feel quiet right..

Looking up to lumine who just got ready to leave, you wondered, does she sense it too? Something is missing..

As trial ended you rushed over to your friend, lumine. She greated you with a soft hug and pats on the back. Oh.. she knew you were hurt. "Are you alright?", paimon asked, looking worried at you. You nodded while smiling softly, "It's going to be fine.. I'm sure lyney has his reasons! I want to hear his explainatiom first before jumping to conclusions!", you said towards your friends.

Not shortly after lyney & lynette ran after the traveler and you. It felt heartbreaking to see the way your friend acted towards the twins. Yet she had every reason to do so. After all she almost embarrassed herself infront of the hydro archon who maybe had information on her brother. Why would the hydro archon tell a criminals helper anything? Right?..

Still it hurted your soul to see the traveler leaving like that, "I'll see you later then!", lumine said to you as she left the opera house. So she DID sense it too! She knew something is off..

"Love, can we talk?", lyney asked you, sadness feeling his shaky voice. He is upset. The travelers reaction made him upset. The question is why.. because of his plans? Or does he really care?..

"Sure, where? Maybe somewhere more privat?", you asked with a gently smile towards the twins. "If it's okay.. would like to come back with us to.. um.. our home?", lyney asked, voice shaky, nervous. Is he scared you won't trust him? That you will say no? "Sure lyney let's go~", you smiled and nodded. There is a slim chance this could be a trap.. but oh well.. it's not like you couldn't fight yourself!

So you went back to the siblings house with them. "Sit down, would you like something to drink?", lyney asked with his usually cheerfull smile, but there was a pitch of sadness in his eyes. Sitting down on his bed you looked at him, "lyney why didn't you tell me?", you asked without taking your eyes from him. It was a honest question. Lyney held still in his movements and sighed, "I'm sorry.. I swear I wanted to! But the timing wasn't right.. I didn't want the traveler or you to hate me because I'm part of the fatui.. not all of us are bad..", lyney explained, looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. He looked upset. But was he upset over the 'script' failing or over their new found bound?

"I don't hate you lyney! I'm just.. upset why you didn't tell me sooner? I'll accept and love you no matter who you are or become!", you said, starting to tear up, "Tell me honestly.. was there a second motive involved as you and lynette approuched the traveler and me?", your voice was shaking as you asked what you feared most. The tears just started to overflow, running down your chin.

Lyney was lost for words. You were hurt and it ripped his heart apart. He never ment for things to be this way. All feelings for you were real and true! As for the traveller.. this was another story. But even if he explained it in detail to you, would you understand? Understand that he did all this just to protect his family, to give lynette finally the live she, no they deserved?! He didn't like the idea of beeing bad one bit. He loves to make people gasp in suprise and see their smiles and laughs. Hurting someone wasn't something he enjoyed, yet for his family he would go through with everything! Would you understand him? Stand by his side?

Lyney leaned in, pulling you in his arms and hugging you tightly. Trying to calm you down. "I know you have no reason to believe me. But all the words I said to YOU, all my feelings and actions for YOU, to YOU were real and came from heart. I showed you a part of me I usually keep hidden away.. the real lyney is a lot more complex and pathetic then the lyney on stage you know.. it's not something you just show everyone..", lyney whispered lost in thought, caressing with one hand gently over your back, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just so scared.. I'm scared of losing you. If you would give me the chance to explain how things came to be this way.. maybe you will understand the real lyney better?", it was a question to you.

You toke a deep breath while leaning against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Suprisingly it was completly calm. Not a beat was off. Yet his body language spoke a different story. He looked scared, clenching his other hand in his lap to a fist, pressing his theeth together. He looked like he wanted to break down in tears but kept it under control. He hid everything away under this charm, under this cheerfull smiles. Taking his clenching hand in yours you looked up and smiled softly, "Thank you for telling me this lyney! I would love to get to know and love the real lyney, so would you please tell me more about you? I want to believe you! ", you said, kissing his hand with so much love as possible.

Lyney couldn't help but let out a gasp at your words. It felt like a huge burden was taken of off him. His heart was about to shatter in thousends of peaces. He loved you so so much, losing you would be like the sky would fall down, crushing every single shade of light amd hope underneath it. Without thinking he grabbed your hand, pulled you in his arms and hugged you tightly. "Thank you! I'll explain everything and I promise there won't be anymore secrets! I shall empty all my sleves and hat for you!", the magican said, his voice sounding a bit broken.

You hugged him back, gently caressing his back. Trying to calm him down. "I'm listening love~", you whispered, waiting for him to explain. For him to state his reasoning. For him to finally be a step closer to be himself around you. "It all started as lynette and I were still kids. Our parents died as we both were very young..", lyney started. You could tell it wasn't easy for him to talk about this. His breath grew heavier, voice slightly shaking. You toke both his hands in yours as you kissed them gently, "Don't force yourself if you're not ready! Today was a lot going on, we can talk another time love!", you said, worried for your boyfriend. As much as you wanted tl know the truth, your boyfriend's health mattered more to you. "No! I want to tell you this, I want you to understand that I'm not a bad person! J-Just give me some time please..", lyney snapped but sighed right after. He was different. Completly different from the 'lyney' you knew. Or you thought yiu knew. You just nodded and holding his hands in yours, waiting.

After a while lyney continued talking, "Because of our parent's death we were forced to live on the streets. I hated it! Our live was cursed. If it would just be me.. I couldn't have cared less but lynette didn't deserve such a live! It was disgusting, dangerous and I tried everything to get us out of this situation. So we leaned a few magic tricks we saw on the street, it wasn't anything special but it brought us some mora and some reason to live on. But it was far from good. One day a..", lyney stopped, shwalloed hard, clenching his fist, "a noble man came to us. He 'adopted' us, saying we were so talented. In the beginning I thought of it as a blessing. But.. it wasn't. Just another curse that was laid up on us! This noble man brought me to many different partys, festivals, just to grow his power, his social circle. And what better way as to use a young, 'handsome' and talented boy.. Tch!!..", the magican's eyes filled with rage. The grew darker in color and were filled with pure hatred. You never had seen your boyfriend like this.

"Lyney, it's in the past. You are here with me now!", you spoke in a soft voice, kissing his hands while looking at him. Seeing how his gaze grew softer right away. After a few minutes of silence he continued, "He forced me to peform magic on every party, mostly with lynette as my assistent, but more often I started to perform by myself.. he forced me to..", another sign that it was difficult to talk about this situation, your boyfriend sighed and continued, "I shouldn't tell you this. It's horrible but.. you have the right to know as my girlfriend. It will shock you a bit.. and I don't know if you will still like me after this.. so please get ready..", the magican said, hesitating a bit. He looked at the ground, hair falling over his eyes, so you couldn't see him tearing up.

What happened to him? You started to grow upset, thinking to ask your traveler companien, lumine to go and find this man. You know, just paying a visit, saying hello. How dare he make your boyfriend so upset? You sat up, moved out of lyneys arms as you placed your own around him. Pressing him to your chest, caressing his back gently, "Lyney no matter what you tell me it won't change a thing! It is the past! I won't leave you! So if you want to tell me, don't be afraid okay?", you whispered in a sad, warm voice.

Hearing those words meant so much to the magican. "Fine.. Thank you..", lyney continued speaking, "The noble man forced me to perform alone, drink with guests, wear clothes in ways.. that.. were not common for children. He forced me to sleep with rich women, man.. He teached me how to manipulate people.. As a child I thought I had to push through it, just so that lynette had a better live. Later on I started to realise how bad this all was. That it wasn't normal.. The snapping point was as lynette wasn't with me at all. I waited for her back at home but she never came. As I went to ask the noble man where my sister was.. he said... he said.. that one of the man at the party liked her and so he send her over to him as a gift..", lyney finished, his hands shaking, taking deep breathes.

Blood lust, rage, hate. You could feel it. It filled the room. Your own hands were cold, your heart beating fast. What kind of sick jerk?!! You really needed to talk to lumine about this! This bastard will pay!! That was your thoughts, yet you just bit your lip and hugging lyney thighter, kissing his hands.

"Stop this!", lyney all of sudden said. Holding in your tracks you looked shocked. Pulling away from him, "Oh okay.. I'm sorry!", you said a bit sad but worried. He must be very traumatized, you should leave him a bit, you thought. "N-No! Stop beeing angry for me! I can feel it.. the anger. Please don't feel angry.. like you said it's in the past and the noble is already dead!", lyney said, pulling you back into his arms. Making you fall on his lap, you blushed as you tried to sit up. Yet no chance since the magican held you close to him as he continued, "I ran after lynette, storming into the house of the noble. But as I arrived there the noble man was already dead. Father, the knave, arlecchino killed him. Father saved us. Also saving all the other young girls that were found in the basement! Lnyette didn't come to any harm. After this arlecchino made a deal with me, I could live happily with my family in order to follow her. Betrayal shall not happen and everyone would be treated as important. We shall get our freedom back.. I wasn't sure back then, after all I was just betrayed but.. father saved lynette so.. I ended up agreeing. Everything I do, have done is just for my family!.. Even tho I'm with the fatui at the end of the day I'm still just a brother who wants to protect his sister.." , lyney finished, sighing, looking to you. His eyes grew wide and he suddenly regreted telling you all of this.

You sat there listening to all of it, your heart was clenching in pain. It hurt. You loved lyney and lynette so much. You were hurt for them. What did they do to deserve this? Your hands were cold and shaking, tears running down your cheeks, biting your lip to stay quiet.

"Love.. please don't cry! I can't stand this hurt expression on your face! Look I'm all fine now, lynette is fine too. We have visions now and can protect ourselves! Besides.. we have you!", the magican whispered with a soft smile on his face. A caring smile, a real smile.. his real smile. Your heart jumped, yet you cried even more. Lyney finally for the first time showed you his real smile! This meant so much to you!

"Aghhh.. love.. please stop crying mhh? Look I'll show you something fun!", lyney said, grabbing his cards from the table next to him. "Pull one card! Doesn't matter which one!", lyney said, holding a few card in his hand. You giggled and pulled one, "It does matter does it? Fine I did and now?", you asked rubbing your tears away with the other hand, trying to calm yourself down. "Hold your card so that I can't see it, only you!", lyney said.

You did what he told you. "Now I want you to put this card, without me seeing it back into my hand okay?", your boyfriend said, holding his cards still in the hand. After you followed his request, he shambled the cards, "Now I'll mix them, I'll have no idea what you card was of course. But let my mind read yours, I'll pull your card out of this mixed card deck in a moment! Ready?~", he continued. You looked interested and curious as you nodded. "Is THIS your card?", lyney asked, pulling a card out of his deck. You pouted and giggeled, "Your mind trick didn't work lyney, this isn't my card". "Ohh... I see I wonder where it's hiding then? Mhh.. Oh I can see it clearly in my mind! Love, would you please check under the pillow next to you?", the magican pointed next to you. As you lifted the pillow and your card was underneath it you gapsed, "Noo wayy..". "Ahh see there it was hiding! And was this your card?", lyney smirked, taking back his card. You clapped your hands in excitement, "Yes!! This was amazing! You're so cool lyney!", you giggeld, hugging your boyfriend tightly. "And I'm glad you stopped crying y/n~", lyney smiled, caressing over your cheek.

"From now on I promise YOU, I'll try to be more like my real self and I'll always be honest with YOU!", lyney said, looking into your eyes. You smiled and leaned in to gently place your lips on his, "I know love! I forgive you and I believe you~", you said, kissing him again. Even if you still felt like you overlooked something, like something was missing you quickly dismissed it as he pushed you down on his bed. Kissing you deeper, caging you in between his arms, him now towering above you. The kiss continued until you both were barely able to breath. Then you parted to catch your breath. Your mind was blank, was lyney always such a good kisser? You couldn't remember. As you looked into his eyes all you saw was pure love, his cheeks were red, softly blushing. But his usually smile was gone, he just looked so cold. His eyes spoke another story..

"This is the real me.. without mask, without cheerfull smiles, without many words.. do I make you uncomfortable beeing like this?", lyney asked, looking into your eyes, watching out for any sign of discomfort. "No! You don't lyney! I'm curious to see more of the real you. I'll accept you for who you are, who you want to be!", you stated, hands reaching up to his face, just to cup his cheeks and squish them softly. A smile found it's way to lyney's lips. Soon after it disappeared again as he looked away with a sigh, "Thank you love. That means the world to me! But.. you maybe forgive me but will the traveler ever?..", the magican asked. He looked clearly upset. A sigh left your mouth. Even if you knew lumine pretty well you had no idea what to say. Giving information on her wouldn't do good.

"See.. like I understood your reasons, you have to understand that the traveler has been through a lot too. There is a good amount of bad history between the traveler and the fatui! Giving it's mostly fatui habringers that caused trouble and I'm sure the traveler knows that, eventually not all fatui members are the same. Yet we saw a lot, someone who used their own people as their doorstep, someone who kicked our dear friend brutally in the stomatch, someone who would gladly sacrifice any person along their way of power, someone who threw a whole nation into chaos and tried to drown it, someone who sold delusion illegaly and killed a got friend of ours, a psychopath who kinapped children, expieremented on them and drugged them.. these people were all fatui members. The traveler has been betrayed, hurt, got used so many times.. She probably just snapped..", you explained, looking at lyney. Another sigh left his lips, now looking back at you, "And you? You were there with her! Yet you forgive me? You saw those things too?!", he looked so hurt as he asked this. A smile came to your face, "Because thats the real me! I am me! I am my own person! And the traveler is their own person! The traveler maybe can't forgive you.. but I can! Because I am me!~", you said, looking into his eyes.

(Nsfw starts here~ )

Before you knew it lyney hugged you tightly, hiding his face in your neck, "Y-You can't just say things like this ma cherie~~", the magican stuttert. He got shy right there. Not expecting such an honest answer. Once again you suprised him, proving everything he thought he knew about you wrong. Throwing his mind reading skills under the aquabus. You really were something, he smirked in your neck. If you wouldn't be his girlfriend already he would've asked you to be his again. How much he loved you was actually insane. But that wasn't enough. Kissing and holding you close wasn't enough anymore. Lyney wanted you completly all to himself, he wanted you to be marked as his! Without thinking he leaned hin and sucked on your neck. Leaving a hickey. Then another one, and another one. He continued till your whole neck and shoulders were covered in hickeys and lovebites. Leaning back, panting heavy while admiring his work.

"Please let me show you how much I love you! Let me give you all the pleasure you deserve! Will you let let me take it a few steps further in our realtionship ma cherie?", your boyfriend asked you, serious look on his face, his cheeks called him out tho. He was so embarrassed to ask this. But he needed to know! You blushed yourself, heart beating fast, were you really about to do it? It's not like you were a virgin but thinking about doing such things with your boyfriend, lyney made you feel like one. You had dreamt about situation's like this.. might touched yourself to the thoughts of him taking you. But now, that it's about to become reality, you were actually a bit nervous. You wanted him obviously and you tried to say that but you just opened and closed your mouth like a fish on land. Heart beating out of your chest.

"I'm sorry love.. I got ahead of myself haha~ With your charming looking self it's really hard not to! Forget it ma cherie~ i just-", lyney stuttered, laughed akwardly and wanted to sit up. Noo you were silent for to long!! Aghh, you cursed at yourself inside your mind. The smile.. it looked fake. It was interesting how just now you saw the difference. He is back to his fake-self. Quickly you grabbed lyneys arm to pull him back on top of you as you yelled, "PLEASE FUCK ME!!", in his face above you.

A moment later you let out a loud gasp, holding your hand infront of your mouth. Why did you say it like that? Oh man.. what an embarrassement.. Hiding your face in your hands you waited for his reaction.

Lyney felt disgusting. You both had such an emotional moment and here he was.. semi hard under his pants, mind filled with unholy, sinfull thoughts of you laying under him. Obsessed with the idea to make you completly his. After you didn't answer he felt horrible. Was he about to become like the people he hated the most? Driven by their own sexuell desire not caring about others. He didn't want to be like. But these thoughts were lost the moment you pulled him back, saying the three magic words he never thought would hear from you. Lyney wasn't innocenct, he heard those words a lot, even if most are connected with bad memorys. But hearing you say those words was different! His cock twichted in his pants, only growing in size, geting harder. Damn.. you shouldn't have said that! A chuckle left the magican as he leaned down, stopping right infront of your lips, "Are you sure you can handle me?~", he said with a teasing smirk on his lips.

You held your breath has lyney leaned in, blushing hardly at his words. This damn tease..

"Why don't you test it out? I want all of you!~", you smirked back at him, just to laugh at his shy expression. He wasn't expecting that. Usually you were always the one blushing and he loved it. But now.. look who also has another side towards themselves?

Lyney chuckled and leaned in to kiss you deeply, caressing with one of his hands through your hair, "Then don't mind if I do show you the stars a bit closer tonight~", he whispered against your lips. Kissing you deeply, his tongue playing with yours. You couldn't help but to give in. Enjoying it, enjoying his sweet whisperes of compliments on your skin, against your lips. The room felt hot, yet you were so wet. Rubbing your thighs against each other while the whole make-out session happened. Lyney caressed his hands over your body, massaging all your sensetive spots. One hand of his moved under your shirt, playing with your breats while still kissing you.

You panted heavily into the kiss, nippels growing hard under his gentle touch. It felt so good. The magican pulled away, looking at you with lustfull eyes, "May I reveal your beauty to my eyes?", tugging on your shirt, he asked. You quickly nodded, lifting your arms up. One second later your shirt and bra layed somewhere forgotten on the room's floor. Lyney massaged your breats, playing with your hard nippels. Twirling them a bit,without hurting you. Curious over your reaction he leaned his head down, sucking on one of your already sensetive nippels. A smirk covered his face as you let out a loud moan. Suprised at the sudden pleasure overcoming your body. With his other hand he circled one finger around your nippel, but not touching were you wanted it to. While his tongue played and sucked on your nippel, you rubbed your thighs together. You were so wet already. Moaning and panting you had closed your eyes.

You opened them just as quick again. You were about to cum. "Ahh- l-lyney I-", you were trying to warn him. But the magican just hummed in knowledge and continued to suck. Taking his finger and gently flicking your other nippel, while sucking on the other you came. Moaning his name out loud, legs shaking. Cumming in your underwear. Lyney continued for a while before stopping as you calmed down a bit. "Did it feel that good? Ohh~ I must be really talented then with my mouth~ OOR.. could it be that I turn you on this much?~", a proud smirk covered his face. While still catching your breath you answered, "B-Both!", and sat up, pushing him to lay back on his bed. Climbing over him, sitting on his lap. "Would it be alright to take this off?", you asked, pulling on his bow and his clothes.

Suprised lyney leaned back, the view was great he had to admit. Maybe he should let you ride him next time, he thought to himself. Your question made him blush, his ears heating up, cock twitching im his pants. "Take everything off I don't mind~", he answered, smug as always. His heartbeat wasn't smug at all tho. Beating fast. You giggled and nodded, "Fine remember you allowed me too!~", you teased back. Your curiosity got the better of you and you couldn't wait to see your most beautiful boyfriend in his whole glory.

Taking off all of his clothes, just leaving him in his boxers you blushed. Damn he looked fine. You caressed over his chest, without thinking much leaning down, starting to kiss his chest, his shoulders, his arms, down to his stomatch, kissing his neck, leaving hickeys and lovebites everywhere. "Now everyone will know that the great magican lyney is taken~", you smirked, mostly to yourself, beeing proud. Lyney laughed, panting, with one hand gently caressing your head. "Let me return the pleasure to you", you smiled as you carefully removed his boxers. Gasping in suprise as his rock-hard cock jumped out, standing up all angry. A cute whine escaped the magican. Fuck, he had imagined you doing this for the longest time. He couldn't believe this moment was real.

Taking his cock in your mouth, filling up your throat as much as possible with his length. Taking it all in until your face met his hips. "Mghhh.. you're soo bighh~", you mumbled, mouth stuffed with him. Then you started slowly moving your head up and down, licking the tip with your tongue. Going faster after a while. Lyney could swear he was this close already. You were just so hot. You drove him insane. "Love, d-don't ahh- say those things! I-I aghh~ might lose control!", he whimpered out, holding on to the sheeds.

His cock twitching in your mouth. Was he close already? You moved your head faster, sucking harder. One hand caressing over his thighs, finding his full balls, massaging them gently. "Cumf in my mouthh~", you mumbled. Hearing him whine and whimper made you wet again. Feeling your clit throbb at the dirty sounds. "C-Cumming!! Nghh-", a second later your boyfriend, thrusted up in your mouth, leting out a grunt with a whine after. His hips jerking a bit, eyes closed while moaning your name in a dreamy voice. Cumming all into your mouth. There was so much. Without missing a beat you shwalloed his seed completly. Before you let go of him and pulled away, catching your breath.

The magican looked down at you, grabbing your arm, pulling you up in his arms to kiss you. A kiss full with love. "You did so well for me ma cherie~ Please let me taste you too?~", he asked into the kiss, licking over your lips. As you nodded he looked at you, "Sit down then~", he gestured to his face, laying on his back on the bed. A gasp left you at his idea, "A-Are you sure? I might be.. heavy..", you asked worried to hurt him. "Don't underestimate me! Sit down my love~", lyney said, looking serious at you. He really meant it.

With a nod you removed the rest of your clothes. You both were completly bare now. You crawled over him on the bed. Kneeling over his head. Your face all red, shy because you felt exposed like this. "What a great view ma cherie, lucky only I can see this everyday~", he whispered, caressing his hands over your ass. Massaging your ass while starring at your dripping wet cunt. You were so beautiful he could look at every part of you forever. What a perfect view but the show must go on so he leaned in, breathing against your cunt. Chuckling as you whimpered under his touch. Giving your slit a teasing lick with his tongue. But that wasn't nearly enough. "Sit down love~" he said to you, pointing on his face. Still kneeling over him you let yourself down on his mouth a bit more. "I said SIT!!", the magican grabbed your hips, pulling you down on his face, grabbing you tighs and holding you there. Holy shit! His voice changed tune completly. No, not only his voice, his entire aura was different! Fatui lyney is here and long may he stay..

A few minutes later and you came already twice. Lyney fucked his tongue into your hole, swirling it around inside, hitting all the right places. Then moving out, flicking your clit with his tongue. And repeat. It's like he couldn't get enough of your taste, your moans, your shaking legs. He was obsessed, with you! Tears running down your face, you grabbed the headboad as you leaned your head against it. Having not enough strengh anymore to hold yourself up. "C-Cumming again!! Nghh- lyney I'm.. cumming again!!!", you moaned, throwing your head back. The magican was unbothered, his pace growing faster, "Then cum!! Give it to me!", he ordered.

"AGHH L-LYNEEYY!!", you screamed his name, cumming into his mouth for the third time this night. Licking all of it clean, lyney removed his tongue from inside you. He smirked, happy with his actions, before geting an idea. He wasn't done with you yet! Just as you were about to catch your breath, he pushed two fingers into your hole, "You are still so tight ma cherie~ How will I fit my big cock in there mhh?~", he teased, smirking to himself as he started thrusting the fingers in and out of your used cunt. "T-To much-", you whined, moaning, yet moving your hips with his fingers. It felt so good but you were so sensetive that you coudln't help but to cry out. Not that you wanted him to stop, if anything you wanted him to go deeper!

"Mhh.. you are a bad liar ma cherie~ I saw the way you looked at my fingers all day, how you clenched your thighs together. I saw the way your eyes wandered over my back, my thighs. You eye-fucked me since the day we first met at the habor. So don't tell me it's 'to much'!", lyney looked up to you with a proud, teasing smirk. And you knew he was right. "M-More please.. lyney I want more~", you looked down at him, moving your hips faster. "That's my girl!~", the magican said. Fingers thrusting deeper, pace growing faster. You moaned his name loudly, eyes rolling over as you let out a loud yelp. What was that? Your head was spinning for a moment, it felt so good. "Ohh?~ Ma cherie let me show you a magic trick! In a second a waterfall will appear infront of our eyes, are you ready?~", lyney had this grin on his face that spelled trouble, yet you were to far gone already to realise that. "S-show mee ahh~~", you moaned, continueing to ride his fingers.

A twist of lyndys hand, currling of the two fingers. You felt how his fingers pulled all the way out, you whined at the lose of his touch. "Now watch closely love~", lyney said as he snapped his finger with the other hand. Trusting two fingers at once, full spead against your sweetspoat deep inside your cunt. While with the other hand he gently flicked your clit once. You didn't even know what was happening to you. Throwing your head forward, your mind became empty. A loud scream left you, you had lost all control over your body. Legs shaking like crazy, you squirted. All over lyndys face, all over the bed and all over your thighs. Panting heavily while holding on to the headboard. "Look at you~ I should make you my apprentice! You learn so quickly how to put on a great show~", lyney chuckled, removing his fingers from inside you, licking everything clean.

Still trying to calm down and geting your brain to function again you slowly opened your teary eyes. Did you just squirt? You never did that before.. oh wow!! "Mhh~ you taste so delicious, I want more ma cherie~", the magican under you mumbled. Pushing his tongue back into your still dripping cunt. Cleaning every last drop of you. Eating you out again. "Aghh!! L-lyn- aghj~ wait!! S-Still sensetivee~", you yelped, trying to push his head away. But lyney was having none of it, grabbing your thighs to hold you down, over his face, till he was finished. There was nothing you could do besides sit down and enjoy.

"Mhh~~ That was delicious~ This gave me an idea for my next show! The audience in the opera house would love your performance for sure! Maybe you will let me do this next time as our final act mhh?~", the magican grinned up at you from between your legs, gently helping you to lay down on the bed. Beeing so fucked out as you were right now you didn't even understand half of what he was saying, so just nodded. A chuckle left the magican. His cock throbbing in pain. "I'm sorry ma cherie, but I'm afraid I can't hold back anymore. May I show you a part of the real lyney or would it be to soon? You might.. not like this side of me..", the magican still was nervous. Hearing his voice drop into a bit of sadness, made you snap out of your lust-space. You took his hand in yours and kissed it gently, "You can go rough with me you know? I'm not made out of glas! I won't shatter easily! Besides.. i trust you lyney! No matter which you, I trust you!", you smiled, voice slightly cracking here and there.

With that the cheerfull glow in lyneys eyes was gone. The magical, charming self disappeared. As you looked up and looked into his eyes you got shocked for a second. This was new. His eyes seemed much more intimidating, much colder but not in a bad way. Just more serious. This lyney stared at you like you were his prey. A target he had layed his eyes on for a while. It felt like he could read your mind, see through your soul.

"Thank you y/n! For putting faith into my hands. Did I ever tell you how much I wanted you too see this side of me. But I was a coward. Like always, playing my games, hiding behind a mask. I really hope you'll still love me like this. I know I love you so much I can't put it into words!", lyney said, caressing with one hand through hair before leaning over you to kiss you on the lips. It was a deep kiss. You just smiled at him before returing the kiss. In your eyes there wasn't much difference. He still was your lyney! The one you loved!

"Spread your legs for me! I can't wait any longer. Let me stuff you full of my love! Let me make you mine!~", he whispered against your ear, caressing over your thighs. Kneeling above you he helped you spreading your legs, giving him the most beautiful view he so adored. "P-Please lyney! I wanna be yours~", you blushed at his confession and whined for his touch. For his love.

The bed made a 'thumb' noice as it was pushed forward against the wall. Lyney thrusted his whole cock into you in one go. Making you gasp loudly, clawing into his back. "You take me so well! You can be as loud as you like, let the others hear that I finally made you mine. Let the others know that I stole your heart. I want to hear you scream my name!", the magican said in between hard thrusts. Your mouth stood open, the pleasure was to much. You felt so full, walls strechted around his big cock. Threwing your head back with every thrust, biting your lip. Embarrassed that someone would hear you.

"Are you disobeying me? I told you-", lyney's voice got darker, grabbing your chin to have you look at him. "SCREAM-MY-NAME!", the fatui member said, thrusting hard into you with every word. Hitting your cervix over and over again. "Could it be that you have lost your voice? Huh.. what a pathetic whore! Here I thought so highly of you, wanting to make you my apprentice but actually with that dumb look on your face, making you my plaything sounds like a better use for you!", the fatui member whispered in your ear, biting into it. His thrusts geting deeper. "Still not screaming? Mhh.. I guess you leave me no other choice but to punish you..", lyney said as he leaned himself up. Snipping his fingers he suddenly held two clips in his hands. "Hold still otherwise it will hurt you!", he warned, thrusting deep into before staying still inside you. Putting one clip on your nipple, while he put the other on your clit. "There you go! Am I not nice my love? This will help you cum more quickly!", the fatui members smirked, pulling on the clip, making you whimper and moan.

Tears were running down your face. Your whole body felt so turned on. You felt so good. It was a bit painful but a few seconds later you wanted to cum so badly. This lyney was so mean but you loved it. It was so attractive and hot to you. As lyney picked up his fast, deep thrusts again you lost all sanity. Not caring about your noices anymore. Fuck it if someone heard you!

Lyney fucked you hard and fast, pulling on your clips, switching in between them. You screamed his name, cumming over and over again. Voice horse from all the screaming. "What a good whore you are for me! Finally obeying your master. I'm gonna cum soon! Gonna fill your slutty hole up with my seed!", the fatui members groweld, grabbing your thighs to push them up against your chest. Making sure his load would go deep inside of your womb.

You could only lay there and moan, whimper, scream and cum again and again. You were such a lovely mess for this member of the house of the hearth. Such a whore for this fatui member. So in love with the great magican. So obsessed with lyney. "P-please fill me up!! Want to you be yours!!", you moaned, whined. Not even sure if he was able to understand you in between the skin clapping and his own loud moans and whimpers.

"C-Cumming!!", lyney growled, thrusting deep into your cunt, all the way inside and stayed still. Warm liquide filled your cunt, your womb. You threw your head back, moaning. Lyney's cock twitched for a while, more of his seed coming out. Lyney pulled out after catching his breath, admiring his work. You looked so fucked out, so far gone. And he loved it. Within seconds his cock grew hard again.

"I'm not done yet!", he said, grabbing your arm and turning you around, to lay on your stomatch. The clips pressing into your sensetive spots. Making you hiss through your lips. "You are so attractiv love~ Your ass looks so fuckable. But for our first time this would be a bit to much right? So just let me fuck you from behind yes?", lyney chuckled, giving your ass a gentle clap. Pushing a pillow under your thighs.

His comment made you blush. A whine escaped you, a bit sad you wouldn't be able to do that today. But that was quickly forgotten as he pressed his cock, which was already hard again, into your cunt. Kneeling over you, behind you the fatui member watched as his cock disappeared in your needy hole. His hands, gloves still on, grabbing your ass. Massaging it, before thrusting all the way into you. Gently he spread your ass cheeks apart, revealling your other hole to his curious eyes. Shortly he was thinking off making you completly his today. Touching every part of you. But no, he had to be patient! He shouldn't overwhelm you! But.. that doesn't mean he couldn't use a bit of magic to please his curiosity!

"My my love, you don't get enough of me do you? Wanting me so much, even your other unused hole is clenching around nothing. You really want to be my plaything huh? Then let me gave you a taste what it's like. I wonder how much you can handle and how long you would last~", lyney whispered, teasingly smacking your ass. Before holding his hand infront of your face. "Remove my glove for me will you?", he asked. After you did what he asked of you he placed the glove under the pillow by your head. A snip of his finger. The light flickered before it turned of completly.

You got scared, about to ask what just happened. The next moment the light on the bedside table turned on gain. "Now check for me under the pillow infront of you will you?", lyney said with a smirk. So you did, removing the pillow with shaky hands. Revealling a vibrator in the same size as his dick. Your eyes widened, how did he do that??

"Ahh perfect! Let me take this~", lyney said, leaning over you to grab the toy. In the meantime pushing his cock deeper in you, grinding into you sweetspot, teasing you. Slowly grabing the toy as an excuse to mess with your insides. Slowly grinding his hips, circeling them a bit. Making you whimper and moan. Hands grabing the bed sheets.

"L-Lyney.. p-please", you whined, with teary eyes. This made the fatui member chuckle, "wrong title", he said, continueing to tease you. You moaned and throw your head back. Realising what he wanted. You blushed heavily. God damn.. this man.. he drives you insane! "M-Master please~", you asked, whimpered. "What a good whore you are! Your master shall continue the show now!", lyney said, leaning back as he sat up. Taking one finger and gently pushing it in your ass. "Your so tight. Tell me love, are you a virgin here? No harm done if not, just curious~", the fatui member asked, biting his lip at the thought. You moaned, hiding your face in the bed. "W-Why do you have to ask such an embarrassing ques-", you whined but got cut off by your own moan. Lyney pushed in a second finger already. Moving them a bit in and out. Not long till he added a third finger.

In

Out

In

Out

Then a laugh left him. Taking his fingers out of your ass. Grabing the vibrator instead, turning it on. You were embarrassed and confused so you wanted to ask what was so funny. Yet again this question got stuck in your throat. Lyney pushed the moving vibrator into your ass in one go. Thrusting it in as far as possible. A loud scream left you, making your cunt clench around his cock. Your mouth standing open in silent moans.

"What a dirty girl~ Already used everywhere!But don't worry, I'll be the last one to use all of your holes. After all you are mine now!~", the fatui member growledy thrusting his cock deep into you. Continueing his pace from before. Your screams, the wet sounds of your holes and the bed slamming up against the wall turned him on even more. "Even if you would try to fuck someone else.. I'll be the only one that comes into your mind! You will always beg for my cock, for my love, because no one can please you as much as I can!", lyney growled, sweat forming on his forhead. His cock twichted at the thought of you begging him to fuck you over and over again. It drove him wild.

You screamed so loud as you came that the whole fontain nation had heard you. Waking up celestia with your crys of pleasure. Not beeing able to think at all anymore, you were so gone. About to pass out actually. Lyney let out a whine, "I'm about to cum! Fill you up again! I'll make you mine! Then you will stay with me forever! With us forever! Take all of me so you will always be on my side ma cherie!~", lyney moaned, mumbled, while leaving hickeys all over your back.

A loud smack was heard, his hips pressing all the way into your ass, pushing the vibrator deeper into you while pressing your back into the matress. His hot cum filling you up. Your head was spinning, not even knowing what he all said in the end. For sure nothing important just how good he felt.

"Je t'aime~", lyney whispered as he kissed your neck gently. Pulling out of you. Taking the vibrator out, turning it off and removing the clips. Laying it down on his table next to the bed. The sparkle of magic and charm slowly returned to his eyes. The magican carefully turned you around, laying down next to you, so he could lay you on his chest. "I'm sorry love, did I hurt you? Do you need something?", lyney asked, voice calming and soft. You tried your best to stay awake and respond. "W-Water", you whispered, voice almost gone.

(Nsfw end! Aftercare here~ )

Lyney gave you a kiss to your forhead before geting dressed in his boxers and his shirt, "Alright love, please wait, I'll be back with water and something to clean you up", with that the magican left the room. Geting the said things for you.

As you were laying there, a complete mess, you realised just how bad this actually was. You are in love, totally obsessed and a total mess for this boy. Damn it all.. how would you explain lumine all of this? The marks all over your body were so obvious. It wasn't the first time this happened.. and it's not like she was a saint either. Buut.. this time it felt more difficult. Probably because lyney is part of the fatui! Aghh.. doesn't matter lumine is your best friend, she will understand! You smiled in thought, lumine always understood you so there wasn't anything to worry about.

A minute later lyney came back into the room with some water and a wet towel. "Ma cherie, are you still awake? I'm back, here is your water", you nodded, slowly sitting up. Taking the glas and quickly drinking all of it empty. That felt good! "Thank you", you smiled and leaned up to give lyney a kiss on the lips. "Let me help you clean up?", lyney asked. You only nodded. Letting him do the work.

After you were done the magican cuddled back to you in bed. Laying you on his chest, caressing through your hair. Before he knew it you were already fast asleep.

"Love?", he asked, not geting answer, he let his mask fall once again. A serious look appeared on his face as he looked out of the window, at the bright shining fullmoon. With one hand still caressing through your hair.

"I love you so much y/n, you don't understand. I never felt this way before for anyone! No one was more important to me than my sister. But since you appeared in my live you share that spot with lynette! I just want to protect you and keep you close. You are different from the traveler! You don't deserve to get involved into all of this bloody mess which is about to happen!", lyney whispered to himself, looking down at you. His eyes glowing brightly, only seeing you. He pulled out a card from under your hair. A fatui card.

As he flipped it in between his fingers, a frown rested on his lips, "Our identity's got revealed and it messed up our plan.. yet with father on the frontline's it should only be a minor issue! There will still be enough time to win the traveler's trust again.. after all we need her as a final failsave in our plan..", a dark aura surrounded the magican, eyes cold, emotionless. His face a frown. Before he felt you cuddling closer to him. Did you feel his mood swing? Could you hear him? No you couldn't. You were knocked out cold, just like he had planned. A small smile formed on his lips, "Sorry love, I shouldn't think about such dark things when I'm around you. After all you deserve to hear and see only good things", lyney smiled down at you, his smile growing warmer, emotion coming back into his eyes.

"Lucky father likes you, so you can stay with us! Don't worry my love, father made already all the plans for you to be save. Welcome to the house of hearth~", your boyfriend whispered, throwing the fatui card in the air. Shortly after the card turned into flower pattels, falling down on the ground next to him. As he leaned down to kiss your lips, he snapped his fingers one last time before also laying himself to sleep. The door of his room got locked. The curtain falling close over the windows. Leaving the room in the dark. Lyney took of his shirt and cuddled closer to you, holding close while singing his favorite song to you,

" … I'm sorry that I did this

The blood is on my hands

I stare at my reflection

I don't know who I am

Practice my confession

In case I take the stand

I'll say I learned my lesson

I'll be a better man

… I'm packing up my things

And I'm wiping down the walls

I'm rinsing off my clothes

And I'm walking through the halls

I did it all for her

So I felt nothing at all

I don't know what she'll say

So I'll ask her when she calls. ",

mumbling the last words, the magican also fell asleep.

~ ❤️ ~ Bonus ending ~ ❤️ ~

"Let's go try meeting the hydro archon again lumine!", paimon said to the traveler as they walked towards the opera house. Continueing their search for information. Wanting to find lumine's brother as soon as possible.

"Uhh.. where is y/n when you need her?", paimon sighed looking creeped out at the fontain. Lumine seemed to have heard voices again. What a creepy situation. "With y/n here, paimon feels much more save! Uhh.. not to say paimon doesn't feel save with you! It's just.. nevermind forget what paimon said hehe!", the floating friend akwardly laughed.

"Lumine.. aren't you worried about y/n at all? We both know the fatui can't be trusted..", paimon asks, looking worried at the traveler. "Don't worry paimon! She is for sure with lyney & lynette. Besides this is y/n we're talking about. She can handle it~", lumine smiled, holding a huge amount of trust and respect for you in her words. "Yeah.. you probably right! Paimon just hopes nothing bad happens to her..", your floating companien said. Lumine nodded and sighed, "I'll talk to her again tomorrow and warn her. Better save than sorry!", she said with a bit of worry in her voice. Something wasn't right. Lumine knew that. She could feel it in the air.

Suddenly all the lights around the two turned off. Paimon got scared and hides behind lumine. While the traveler pulled out her sword, ready to fight.

Clack. Clack. Clack...

Footsteps on the floor could be hard loud and clear. Then someone was clapping as the person walked out of darkness. Fatui jacket shining in the moonlight. A small smile met the traveler eyes.

"Perfect! The rumors do you justice, dear traveler. I didn't expect any less. What a wonderfull performance you put on!", a female voice spoke, sounding dangerous but also so charming. Lumine held her breath. That was..

"THE KNAVE?? What are you doing here? Traveler watch out! She is the 4th ranked fatui habringer!", paimon yelled, still hiding behind the traveler. "Oh did my sudden appearance suprise you this much? But wasn't it a forseen event that we would eventually run into each other? Well.. calm down! I'm not here to fight you or to get the gnosis! Not yet.. at least~", arlecchino spoke with a small smile on her face, raising both her arms in the fatui position before crossing them infront of her chest, "I'm simply here to breath a peace of advice to you~", she said. "Why should we listen to you?!", paimon asked, clearly upset. "Oh, you will listen to me. I made sure of this. After all you want to see your friend again right? Y/n? Was it?", arlecchino smirked, playing with her nails while waiting for an answer.

A gasp left paimon. Lumine put her sword away, putting both her hand on her hips while making an effort to listen, "Go ahead fatui! I'm listening!", she said, voice angry, upset, scared. Scared of losing another important person. "That's a wise move traveler! Your friend is save with us. Now for my adive-", the knave started but got cut off by paimon, "What did you do to y/n?!". Lumine looked clearly angry. Waiting for answer.

"Why? Nothing of course! Actually I took quiet the liking to her. She seemed like a very good 'friend', you may call it that. So no harm shall ever come to her!", arlecchino answered with a soft smile. "What are you planning knave?!", lumine asked, glaring at the women infront of her. Making the fatui habringer laugh, "Haha~ Aren't you cute?~ Mhh.. telling you much would ruin the plan. So let's say I'll borrow your friend for a while. Of course.. she can stay forever if that's what she wants! Your friend is very important to us! To the house of the hearth!", arlecchino answered, walking with every word closer to the traveler. Holding in her steps as she stood right infront of the traveler's face. Smiling down at her.

"You won't use her for your plan! I'll save her!", lumine yelled, pulling out her sword, pointing it against the knave's throat, "You best not provocate me knave!", the traveler whispered dangerously, her eyes glowing. Paimon floated a bit away, giving lumine the space to fight. Yet the knave grabbed the tip of the sharp sword in between her fingers and pressed it in her skin, drawing blood of her neck. Lumine let out a gasp, not expecting that, dropping her sword on the ground. A chuckle left arlecchino, grabbing the traveler's wrist pulling her closer, in the knave's arms. "You might not understand dear traveler. In our house everyone is family! Y/n belongs to that family. I see her as my daughter I'm very proud of. She can bring out lyney's true potenial! And that is very important to me, these kids need to survive for a better future! Even if I don't.. lyney will need to awake his true potential! So I support their lovely realtionship all the way. But.. do you dear traveler?", arlecchino whispered in the traveler's ear.

For a short while lumine was so hypnotisted by her voice that she completly forgot about everything. This women is dangerous! Lumine needed to warn you as soon as possible. This whole aura.. the knave's action. The charming voice. All of it.. it reminded the traveler on lyney. Damn it.. why didn't she realized it sooner?

'The knave' was never arlecchino! Arlecchino is the fatui habringers yes. But 'the knave' is a title made for someone else. Lyney was always the knave!! Lyney was arlecchino's shadow!! Her succesor!

~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~💜~❤️~

( Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!~ ♡ )

#genshin lyney smut #lyney smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #lyney imagines #lyney x you #lyney x reader #lyney headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #lumine smut #arlechhino smut #mysinsforventi

[marlynnofmany]

Decoy

Zhee stopped abruptly on the raised pathway, making one of many bug-alien hisses. This one was quiet and annoyed. The annoyed part didn’t narrow things down much for me, since he found many things irritating and wasn’t shy about telling the world about it (whichever world we were on at the time), but the quietness seemed significant.

I was glad I hadn’t bumped into him, and not just because he had the package we were supposed to deliver strapped to his back. (I’d volunteered to hold the thing, but he insisted that I keep my hands free since I only had two feet and was that much more likely to fall into the swamp. I’d wanted to argue that, but didn’t).

“What’s wrong?” I asked in an undertone.

“Them,” Zhee hissed, peering around a tower of sprouting plants and decaying wood that had once been a massive tree. The path curved off in that direction, blocked from view.

I crept forward for a look. Voices murmured. Then something splashed, and people were complaining loudly.

There on the path ahead of us were three Mesmers, all varying shades of gem-bedecked green to Zhee’s purple, waving their pincher arms about in irritation while a Frillian stood to one side with a fancy hovercart full of supplies and a long-suffering expression. The water rippled next to a half-submerged log. I wondered if one of them had thrown something or if a local creature had jumped in. Two of the Mesmers were holding bits of tech that I didn’t recognize from a distance.

Zhee was still hissing. “Why are they here, of all places? Blocking my way instead of getting on each other’s nerves literally anywhere else?”

“Who are they?” I asked. They hadn’t spotted us yet, busy as they were with complaining more than Zhee ever did.

“Rich idiots from my hatching year,” he grumbled. “They are not going to make this interaction pleasant.”

I looked around the swamp, with all its murky water and sparse trees. “We can’t really go around, can we?” The walkway was the only sign of civilization. While it was plenty wide for people to pass each other, even with hovercarts, it was the only one in eyesight. There weren’t even stepping stones.

“No,” Zhee said. “Wading through the water wouldn’t do us any good; we’d still be in sight.”

“I’m not even sure it’s shallow enough to wade through,” I said, eyeballing the water. It had all manner of algae and alien moss floating in it.

“It is,” Zhee told me. “I’ve delivered here before. But they’ll see us either way.”

“What are they even doing?” I asked. It seemed too much to hope that they’d just leave if we waited a few minutes.

Zhee jabbed a pincher into the soft bark of the stump. “Nature photography. Looking for rare specimens with their expensive cameras. Probably on the trail of a Shrieking Tatterwing or Hooting Fungus.”

“There’s a fungus that hoots?”

Zhee angled his antennae into a frown at me. “It’s an animal. Just looks like fungus.”

“Got it.”

Neither of us moved for a moment, just watching the trio of spangly birdwatchers and their assistant who probably wasn’t paid enough to deal with them. They really did argue a lot. As far as I could tell, the three of them were having two different debates at once: whose fault it was that the water creature had fled, and whether the glimpse of a wingbeat in the distance was worth leaving the path to investigate.

That gave me an idea. “Hey, are they likely to go off after a sound they haven’t heard before? Or something they can’t quite place?”

Zhee gave me a look. “Are you thinking of imitating an animal call from your planet?”

“Yeah. Either verbally or—” I leaned over the water to pluck something like a blade of grass from a spray of plantlife. “I can make a pretty sharp bird call with this.”

Zhee’s alien face regarded me, tilting slightly. “How?”

“Like this.” I stretched it taut between my thumbs, in the way I’d learned to do as an outdoorsy kid. There was just enough of a gap between my knuckles. With all my fingers spread wide, I blew through the gap, and it made a piercing shriek that could have been a bird.

The Mesmers looked around; Zhee and I shrank back out of sight. I adjusted the grass and tried again, this time getting a warbly call that sounded like a duck with a stuffy nose.

When I held my silence, I heard a heated debate over what kind of creature had made the sounds, and whether they came from the same one or two different beasts. But the argument wrapped up quickly with the reminded that they really were here to find a Hooting Fungus.

“Knew it,” Zhee said.

“This is worth a shot, then.” I let the grass flutter to the pathway and laced my fingers together into another childhood favorite. With my hands cupped around nothing and as airtight as I could make them, I again blew into the gap between my thumbs, this time just the top half. The air circled through into a satisfying hoot.

They got very excited at that.

“I told you! I caught a glimpse over there!”

“It sounded like it came from more over this way; it must have moved!”

“Hurry, before it moves farther out!”

Two splashes, then a third, and I was grinning in delighted surprise at Zhee. The quiet burble of a hover engine reached my ears as the Frillian took the sensible route off-road after them.

After a few moments, we peeked around the stump. There they went, off into the murk, complaining and shushing each other and aiming their cameras upward. Soon enough they were out of sight behind more trees.

Zhee stepped forward. “Well,” he said. “That was shockingly successful.”

“You’re welcome,” I said happily.

We strolled along the empty pathway, with plenty of time to get our delivery there in time.

Zhee said, “You should make those noises on the ship when no one’s watching. See if they think an animal got in.”

I looked at him in amusement. “You’re only saying that because you already know what it is.”

“Yes,” he said haughtily, which made me laugh.

“I’ll consider it,” I said, already thinking about what other animal calls I could bring out when my alien crewmates least expected.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #these are definitely Stupid Human Tricks that I have gotten a lot of mileage out of #nothing like a little autobiographical inspiration #in many ways this character is the me that 5-year-old me planned to grow up into #having a grand time #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #mimicry