#did I forget to read the memo or something?
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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
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steal your night (part 1) | sung hanbin ˚₊‧⁺˖
you never knew you had a boyfriend until sung hanbin eats your tiramisu and steals your heart under the stars of monaco
SERIES: a night in monaco — one, two
TAGS: fake dating, strangers to lovers, business man!hanbin, gn!reader, flirty hanbin and you ehe, meet cute <3, summer vibes
A/N: sorry for the disappearance lmao take my hanbin pining as an apology, and as always, purely self indulgent
WORDS: ~1300
Trouble comes when dessert is served.
Everything considered, it’s horrible timing. Sun setting just so over the Mediterranean, hearty chatter firing all around in all sorts of languages and your wine being warm company on a supposedly lonely night. It makes a perfect set-up as your spoon hovers mid-air as you prepare to dig into some well-deserved tiramisu.
Until someone slides into the very empty seat across from you, slips a crisp black business card across the table to you – it reads 'Sung Hanbin' – and uttering the most insane thing yet: "Love, I'm so sorry for being late!"
What.
You barely get to say anything before he's swooping in for la bise. As you lean in, his expensive cologne lingers like smoke in the air. It's a narrow dodge of your lips, but he swerves and lands a quick kiss to your right cheek and then dares to go for a second on your left. Consider yourself stunned because all you do is watch him pull away and a grin at you with a gorgeous smile.
You want to sit and gape for a second, let yourself breathe, and now with a longer look, let him breathe.
This, Hanbin, has flushed cheeks and is twitchy with how he holds your hand – when did that happen?! – across the table. There's a light sheen of sweat on his skin and not due to the heat, more like he's either embarrassed or nervous about this. He breathes in short, sharp gasps as if he's been running and mouths something to you.
Please play along. His hand still holds yours, and he squeezes just so.
Hanbin turned his head to the right slightly. Stood at a table near the entrance was a woman with a flowy silver dress on and hair pulled into quite a severe bun. Her pointed heels tapping on the spot and her jittery eyes glance over at you two, but quickly look somewhere else when she catches your curious gaze.
“She’s been trying to get me to buy her a meal all day,” he sighs. “Thing is, I even saw her scoping me out yesterday at a bar last night. I was naïve enough to buy her a drink to start some conversation, but she’s taken it as personal permission to stalk me. She clearly hasn’t gotten the memo.” And he squeezes your hand again, this time to comfort himself.
“What about me? What if I turn out to be some crazy that’s out to steal your Amex and claim my fifth husband?”
“You? No way, you have a top shelf wine and a second plate of tiramisu in front of you already. You're doing perfectly fine without my money," Hanbin lists before his gaze turns considering. "Unless... you weren't lying about the husbands.”
You laugh into your wine and eye Hanbin over the rim. "You wouldn’t look too bad in a wedding tux, pretty boy, who knows?”
The long column of Hanbin’s neck is exposed thanks to the open collar of his shirt. Revealing the delicate sun, moon and star on his collar that only keeps you stuck in wonder for longer.
You can only imagine how smooth the skin feels – under your hands and lips – but maybe that’s the wine talking when he sits there fine and handsome against the candlelight. The sunset paints saturated hues against his skin, you can barely see the blush that peeks above his collar thanks to it.
If you friends were here, you know what they’d say about him: trouble, hot and wealthy trouble.
“Eyes up here, love.” Your eyes leap back up to Hanbin’s to only see amusement in them. Getting caught flushes your face with heat but his eyes are dark enough to forget yourself in.
You try to push on, clearing your throat and pulling yourself together. “So, the deal is we act like lovers the rest of the night?” The weight of the word lovers is a syrupy one, overtly sweet and something far from familiar for you but Hanbin only smiles at it.
“Of course, love. Shouldn’t be too hard with someone as sweet as you,” he grins however his eyes still linger on that woman in silver, clearly on edge.
You drum your fingers on the table, the rush of meeting each other melting quickly in the air. Awkward tension is bound to seep in soon and you'll be damned if it does! you're not losing this chance no matter how much trouble this man could be.
A stroke of brilliance brings you to push forward your untouched plate of tiramisu over to him, careful with the spoon balancing precariously on the plate. “What?” you smile at his confused face. “I wasn’t eating it anyway and you need a distraction.” But he just raises his brows like he doesn't believe it.
At his reluctance, you sigh and begin to flag down a waitress.
“Hey! Hey, don’t kick me out please—I’ll eat it!… even pay for it!—” Hanbin flusters even further as you push a finger against his soft lips to shut him up as the waitress arrives.
It’s a beat of silence.
“Two more tiramisus, please.” Hanbin’s laugh of disbelief trails the waitress as she leaves.
What you do find out is that it’s stupidly easy to talk to Hanbin. You tell him why you’re even here in Monaco: about your crazy best friends marrying after years of adventures, about being the responsible one in a group of misfits, about growing up and never quite finding the one unlike how they did. Loneliness is a familiar tale on your tongue, the wine tinging everything you say with bitter honesty you’ve never been able to let out with anyone else.
With Hanbin, you learn about his job as a business consultant: his annoying – but endearing! – juniors Yujin and Gyuvin, how him and Zhang Hao – his other colleague – are out here for strictly business. Until of course, he met you.
“What are your doing out here so alone, anyway?” he probed. He’s so much closer now, having moved his chair to be next to you instead of opposite you. “You’re too pretty to be single but I really hope you are.”
You shrug off the flirting for once and let yourself disappear back into the chair. “Everyone else I know are in relationships so they’re all away on dates across the city. I figured stealing myself away on a self-date would be better than sitting lonely in a hotel room all night.”
He hums, a low and melodic thing. You can feel the heat of him next to you, the weight of his presence and the cut of his cologne all over again. Though nothing prepares you when Hanbin takes your hand in his.
He raises it, gentle and kind, slow and despairing, and presses his lips to your ring finger.
"Well then, may I steal your night?" he asks like a dare. A whisper barely heard but shared between you two.
Eyes far too low and gaze far too heavy for a look between strangers. The implications are clearer than the night sky above. Hanbin's lips linger with a smirk, and you can feel everything in you screaming to look away before you melt into the floor but all you can do is stare.
Trouble. Is what your mind is screaming. It's what you really want after all this pining in silence. Someone to crash into your life and take you with them.
"You don't even know my name."
It comes out like an accusation. Trouble, trouble, trouble. It brings you here and leaves you dizzy, craving for more.
"Why would I need it, love. You'll be saying mine all night.”
The woman is long gone into the night so there's no need for this play-pretend. But trouble looks you in the eyes and you kiss him with a heart that yearns for more.
ahjbsdkh thanks so much for reading <33 i had a lot of fun writing this so a like and reblog would be nice if you enjoyed :] ⭒ masterlist ⭒ part two ->
#or hanbin is irresistible#zerobase1#sung hanbin#sung hanbin x reader#zb1#zb1 x reader#kpop#kpop fanfic#fake dating#zb1 imagines#sung hanbin fluff#zb1 drabbles#sunny forecast: reading weather#fanfiction#kpop x reader#sung hanbin fic#zerobase1 fics#zerobaseone
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RECOMMENDED BTS FICS OF NOVEMBER 2023💖
hello, hello! here are my bts recs of november! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝
** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **
🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite
Bad Boy || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯
↳ Yoongi has been best friends with Namjoon since he was seven. He knew his little sister was always off limits but Yoongi never followed the rules. (we love it when siblings are supportive of them crushes. we gotta give respect to yoongi for not pursuing his crush to not risk his friendship with namjoon. but also props to namjoon for not getting pissed off when they finally got together though.)
Partner Privileges || @7ndipity💕✅💯
↳ (imma need me a man to give me partner privileges like this yoongi right here. like my man yoongi is a whole ass softie. i love it.)
Sharp Teeth || @dearly-somber💕💔🔄💯💯💯
↳ Jungkook—a love struck puppy pining for Y/N’s affection. Y/N—an obvious, hard-headed tsundere too thick to realize a shifter likes her. What could go wrong? (i have a HUUUUUUUUGE soft spot for fantasy fics (mainly werewolf fics and stuff, and i solely blame my 13 year old self watching twilight LOL). like if you are writing a werewofl/hybrid/shifter fic just know that is going to be automatically be in my reading list. when i came across this one, oh lord have mercy. read all of them in one sitting PLUS its still ongoing to. imma have a field day with this one i know it.)
Finding Your Boyfriend Sleeping In Your Hyperfeminine Pink Room || @rrjkive💕✅
↳ (theres no summary, but we just gotta love soft jungkook you know. like with the live of him just sleeping on live is freaking adorable and you can literally picture this big ass man with THAT HELLO KITTY THATS IN HIS LIVING ROOM and the man is just hugging that sht to death while sleeping.)
Five More Minutes || @7ndipity💕✅
↳ Anon Req: "Having to stand up in the morning with yoongi but not wanting to. cuddling and trying to stay in bed as long as possible instead" (i love soft yoongi, in this world, alternative world, ANY WORLD LIKE SOFT YOONGI IS SUPERIOR.)
Was It Better? || @gyukookswhore🔞✅
↳ Jungkook has been acting weird lately in bed, but your not complaining about it or are you ? (you know how it was literally no nut november for fics, well, lets just say that half of these fics on this list is literally smut. that says a lot. aka i clearly did not get the memo since i read mostly smut LOL. but this fic, is so detailed that i could read it again ngl.)
Wonderstruck || @jinkookspencil💕✅
↳ jungkook convinced his fearful girlfriend to try out a rollercoaster at the funfair… (honestly the ask that was sent to op was perfect. like stop this sht is fcking cute. got me giggling in bed kicking my feet and sht.)
Animal Farm || @joonberriess🔞✅
↳ (there was no summary, but holy jesus, this was literally a wild ride. like without reading the tags and tw, but the title alone, i thought this was going to be a lil cute fic about farming you know. BUT NO THIS WAS NOT ABOUT FARMING WHAT SO EVER BUT THIS WAS A WILD WILD RIDE. i say give it a read if you are like me who forgets to read the tags and tw (which is prob not a good thing) but its a suprise everytime i read something.)
Biker!Kook || @lustfuldevils💕✅💯
↳ (there was no summary exactly, but lets just say that im a sucker for biker!kook + reader. whether the reader is like innocent type or just a regular...person??? like personality wise you know. i dont know if that made any sense, but you know what im talking about..hopefully)
Every Little Thing || @7ndipity💔✅💯
↳ When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him. (i like to torture myself by reading angst that makes me feel sad and sht. honeslty love this one + im pretty sure theres like 3-4 fics from this op on this list. hi just wanted to say that i love your writing.)
Forest Bride || @flowerwrites06🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯
↳ The business transaction of a marriage between two previous warring clans takes an unexpected turn. (i love how yoongi automatically became protective over oc while she was slightly closed off due to their past experience. like all hail yoongi.)
Lost & Found || @theharrowing💕💔✅
↳ Taehyung just wants to be left alone. Too bad you need a place to stay. (i honestly love fics where its told from the members pov. like it gives us a chance to read about what they would do and say (even if its fiction you know) like it gives us a different pov then other fics where its mainly through a third-person pov or like the readers pov. love this)
My Alpha || @btsbrat🔞✅💯
↳ you discover that the soon to be alpha, Jungkook, is your destined mate. However, your story takes an unexpected turn when Jungkook rejects the mate bond. (i honestly thought that this fic wouldve been longer, you know just to prolong the rejection and what jk would do, but this pace is also good too. i hope that op makes a longer version where it involves like the in between you know! not that op has to make a longer ver, i also love this ver too!)
Of Storms and Vampires || @wishesunderthestars💕💔🔄💯
↳ During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn't simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook's sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago. (this is still currently ongoing but i havent read many vampire!bts fics BUT lets just say, bats be cute and sht but deadly. cant wait to read the future chapters. also this is first chapter isnt rushed or anything so it def caught my reading eye for sure. went at a nice pace, not too fast, not too slow which i love)
Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!
** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **
#bts scenarios#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#bts vampire au#bts friends to lovers au#bts established relationship au#bts recs#bts fic recs
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A/N: okay so it’s been a good while since I’ve posted anything here on tumblr but the last year has been kinda insane as I’m nearing graduation, and my new internship is keeping me very busy.
I have two more one shots written and one half written, but after that I don’t know how long till I’m able to write again and post. Either way, I hope you enjoy this one shot!
But this love is brave and wild
Nesta had not intended to snoop through Cassian’s papers. He was — if she was honest with herself — the most organised out of them. Nesta Archeron being a messy person was something that had come as a surprise to Cassian and he teased her endlessly about it.
“I can find everything I need with no problem,” she had argued once when they were laying in bed, “therefore I am not messy. My organisation method is just different from yours General ‘I Colour Code My Folders’ Archeron”
“Whatever you say Nes,” Cassian had laughed, tightening his arms around her. Her mate, she had discovered, was an incorrigible cuddler “I still love you even if you don’t believe in the practicality of keeping things in one place”
She was always leaving books and hairpins all over the House, discarding her boots after training somewhere and forgetting to take them to their room, her notes about the Valkyries, military and Mind Stilling techniques forgotten and scattered in any surface available. The House was constantly gathering and leaving them on her desk, but it usually took her two to three days until she got the courage to sort and put them away properly. Cassian’s tidy and neatly arranged papers — sorted by importance and filled with carefully written notes — made his desk a stark contrast to her mountain of spread out ones in her side of the room they had transformed into their study room.
They had learned early on that they would never be capable of doing any actual work in their own room when their bed was only a few steps away.
Not that they had not fucked in each and every surface of the House, their study included. It just made the temptation of being all over each other slightly smaller.
Nesta had entered the study and was tidying her desk after the House had made the bathtub water cold and dumped on top of her towel the papers she had forgotten at the dining table.
“I was going to get them later,” Nesta had said, and in turn the military book Cassian had lent her had fallen on the little floating table she used when she wanted to read in the bathtub. She had been meaning to return it to him for over a week, the book forgotten amid her pile of romance books on her bedside table.
“Fine,” she had added, “I got the memo, I will put them in the study.”
So Nesta had gotten dressed in a bathrobe — she had every intention of going back to a bubble bath as a reward for tidying up her things — reordered her romance book stack, and set off for the study, grabbing any paper she had forgotten along the way. She was putting his book on the shelf when she noticed that Cassian had a few papers outside his drawer, something unusual to him.
“I better at least put the paperweight on top of them,” she thought to herself. She did not want to mess up her mate’s drawers and folders in her attempt to clean his desk.
Cassian had left in a hurry after lunch to Illyria — Emerie, Balthazar and him were trying to transform an old property into an orphanage and residence for those who had no place to go. For now the plans were to see how things would go in Windhaven, and then replicate the same in other camps. Apparently some problems had arisen concerning the renovations and he had left to sort things out. That explained why his space was uncharacteristically ‘messy’ for his standards.
Nesta lined his pens and was stacking the papers in a pile when one in particular caught her eye. Most of them were reports regarding Illyria or the Valkyries training plans, but the small piece of paper full of bullet points and notes scribbled in a hurry was neither.
“Is this a checklist of some sorts?” she mumbled to herself, reading it. If it was, Nesta could not make sense of it, for there were sometimes only a page number and an acronym in the same bullet point — “pg. 43, UTOT” — or phrases and even single words thrown around that made no sense — “ smell of rain”, “traditional dances”, “unicorns”, “pudding”, “peppermint”, “braids” and so on.
The list intrigued Nesta. Maybe Cassian was playing scattergories or some other game with Azriel or Gwyn again and had forgotten to throw it away. Nesta and Emerie had since long ago given up on playing with them — their competitive streak when combined was insufferable, and both girls had decided they would rather discuss their latest read than go through a discussion if “ice” could be considered a colour or not — but Cassian kept playing. According to him their bickering was amusing to watch despite the chances of him winning being rare.
Nesta wondered if Cassian had other lists somewhere, if together they could help her make sense of what they were exactly. She would have to ask him when he came back — which she hoped happened soon. It was almost time for dinner, and they always had their meals together. When they had an assignment that did not require them to stay more than a day away — Nesta had accepted the position of emissary, although she chose which places she wanted to go and with who she wanted to work with, not to say that it gave her a chance to travel for free — they always tried to come back in time to share meals together. And Cassian had also promised to bake a cake for her, nevermind they lived in a magical house who could do it itself.
So Nesta returned to her bubble bath, the hot water making her sigh with pleasure. A book appeared on her floating table moments later.
“Is this your way of saying ‘good job’ for organising my things?” she asked the House, which made a peppermint tea appear too.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile, and the faelight near the sink glowed brighter, as if it was saying ‘you’re welcome’.
Nesta ended up staying in the bath until her fingers resembled an old lady’s and she had finished her book. It was now late afternoon and no sight of Cassian. She debated starting another book, but she knew it would make her miss her mate even more. She always pictured him as the love interest in her novels.
“Pull yourself together,” Nesta said to herself “it has been less than a day. It is not like we have to be attached to each other all the time”
Truth to be told, Nesta had become rather clingy when it came to Cassian — not as much as him, she doubted there existed someone as affectionate and tender as her mate — but after their mate and wedding ceremony she found herself more comfortable expressing her feelings. She enjoyed having lazy days where she and Cassian would stay near the fireplace — either reading or just talking — or when Cassian would try and teach her how to cook — she now managed to not burn bread but that was it. He was always touching her — a hand on the small of her back, a brush of his hand against hers when he was passing her food, intertwining their legs when they were laying down, flicking her nose when she got annoyed at him… it seemed impossible for him to keep his hands to himself. And that did not bother Nesta at all. In fact, she loved it, and she had realised that she had denied herself of love and made herself so touch starved for so long that now that she could bask in it she was becoming greedy.
For her utter annoyance, Cassian did not return in time for dinner. Nesta ended up going to Feyre’s house to have dinner, and the sight of Nyx — who had just begun to walk — cheered her up a little, as did the chocolate cookies Elain had baked, although she could not help but think about the chocolate cake she had been promised.
Cassian ended up arriving at the House very late into the night, finding Nesta on their bed buried beneath furs, even with the fire lowly crackling in the hearth.
“Hello Nes,” Cassian greeted his mate the second he stepped inside their room, leaving a kiss on top of her head to not interrupt her reading.
“You are late,” was all she said, turning a page. She had ended up choosing one of his war texts to keep herself busy, but his scrawled notes on the margins of the pages did not help her longing.
“I am sorry sweetheart,” he kneeled on the floor beside their bed, taking her free hand on his and playing with her wedding band “Things at Windhaven took longer to resolve than I had intended and Emerie and Balthazar wanted to go over some new plans”
“What can I do to make you forgive me?” Cassian kissed her fingers, giving her his best puppy eyes.
“For starters you can take a bath,” Nesta wrinkled her nose at the dried mud on his boots “And dry your hair properly, I would rather not have you winning about feeling sick later”
“As you wish, Lady Death. Even if the idea of being bedridden and having you take care of me is very tempting” he said with a wink “I will leave you to your book in the meantime.”
Cassian came back less than ten minutes later, leathers gone in favour of soft cotton pants and no shirt, drying his hair with a towel.
“Bath taken and dirty boots have been put away,” he declared, placing the towel on a chair — the House vanishing it moments later — and grabbing a comb.
He sat beside Nesta on the bed, not having to say anything, only extending the brush in her direction. It had become natural to care for each other’s hair. Nesta still remembered the day she had asked her mate for help with the pins keeping her braid in place, Cassian almost falling in his rush to get to her. He had tenderly taken each one out, massaging her scalp later and carefully brushing her hair.
And the next time they had taken a bath together he had grabbed the shampoo to wash her hair before she could even move. Nesta had almost fallen asleep in the tub with the way he gently shampooed and rinsed her hair. Cassian had confessed to her one day that he had an unhealthy obsession with her hair.
“Oh I know,” she had said with a small secretive smile “I see how you look at me when I am braiding it”.
She also remembered the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down and had called it beautiful, making her blush furiously. And since he began taking care of it Nesta could swear that it had gotten stronger and shinier.
Considering how silky and shiny his hair was, it did not surprise her at all.
Nesta, it turned out, also had an unhealthy obsession with her mate’s hair.
She enjoyed washing and combing it, be it after a bath or after he had come back from a flight from somewhere. She enjoyed learning new braids to braid his hair, especially now that Emerie was teaching her traditional Illyrian hairstyles. She had gotten interested after she saw his hair for their wedding-mate ceremony.
“The Illyrans take great pride in their rituals,” Emerie had told her during the party after the ceremony “Back when we were constantly at war, many years ago during Enalius time, the wives of the warriors would braid tokens of good luck and protection for their husbands. Those with long hair also asked them to apply that pattern to their hairstyle, and we integrated in our culture the costume of different braid patterns depending on the occasion: wars, festivals and ceremonies such as burials and weddings”
“The hairstyle Cassian has now is the common braid style used at wedding ceremonies at Windhaven” Emerie had given her a soft smile “Cassian has no living female relatives, so he asked me to do it for him. I’ve never seen him sit so still for so long”
“Could you teach me?” Nesta had asked, feeling shy all of a sudden “I would like to learn them all so I can braid his hair… and our children’s when the time comes.”
“Of course,” her friend had said, and now whenever they had time Emerie would teach her.
Nesta slowly unknotted Cassian’s hair, and by the way he sighed she knew it would not take long for him to fall asleep.
“All done,” she declared, placing the comb near her book on the bedside table.
“Thank you, Nes” he said, slipping under the furs. He intertwined their legs, hugging her close to himself and burying his face on her neck.
Nesta sighed, instantly feeling warmer. Cassian was like a walking furnace, and even without a shirt he was way warmer than her.
“Am I forgiven now, xe nhia?” he asked, nuzzling her neck “I have bathed, dried my hair and am now fulfilling my duties as your personal Illyrian heater.”
“Perhaps.” she ran her fingers over his arm wrapped around her “You do own me a cake, which I was looking very forward to”
“What if I also made you pudding,” he began trailing kisses over her shoulder “would you like that xe r-endy?”
The terms of endearment in Illyrian made her feel so warm and giddy that Nesta almost let slide one word Cassian had said: pudding.
It was one of the words written on that piece of paper, and now she had the perfect opportunity to ask about it.
“Funny of you to ask me about pudding,” she began nonchalantly “I read something about it today”
“You did?” she could hear the surprise in his voice “Please tell me you were not attempting to cook, we all know how it went last time”
“I set fire to the kitchen one time and you never let it go,” she ruffed with annoyance “No, I did not attempt to cook. But I did find a rather interesting and confusing list with the word pudding on it.”
“What,” Cassian raised his head from her shoulder, and Nesta turned around on his arms to look at him.
“I was tidying up my things when I noticed your desk was uncharacteristically messy. I had only planned to put a paper weight on your papers to hold them down but I ended up reading your list,”
“I am sorry if I did not respect your privacy,” Nesta added in a rush, afraid Cassian might get angry “I did not mean to pry but my curiosity got the better of me and I ended up reading it.”
“I am not mad xe nhia,” Cassian said with a soft smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear “You are free to read any and all papers I have. I have nothing to hide, especially from my mate.”
“I am just embarrassed. That is all” he added, and she could see a faint blush dusting his light brown skin.
“Why would you be embarrassed?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Because,” he took a deep breath “that was one of the lists I made of topics I wanted to talk with you about. Ever since I met you back when you were human and I used to collect the queen’s letters from you, ever since then I would think of fake conversations and scenarios, building entire conversations inside my head so I could impress you with my comebacks.”
“So that time you stayed circling the house for ten minutes…” she inquired.
“I was compiling a list of chosen insults to throw your way, responses to an invented argument” he groaned, hiding his face on her shoulder “Like a complete fool.”
“You did this back when I was human?” Nesta asked, her love for her big kind hearted mate growing impossibly bigger.
“I never stopped, which might make me even a bigger fool than I was back then,” he admitted, face still hidden “Even after that, when you were Made and I used the excuse of exercising my wings to come and see you, and being together with you felt both so close yet so far given the circumstances”
“Cassian…”
“And even later, when we started living at the House and you were going through so much, trying to get better… I kept coming up with them. Topics I wanted to discuss with you, when we were together but not together. When it was just sex, and I was willing to take whatever you gave me because a little of your time, a little of you, was infinitely better than nothing at all.”
“Conversations we could have had, that I wanted us to have. Issues that I wanted to get your opinion on, if only I was not such a coward. It was always so difficult— I was so scared of ruining whatever I had managed to build with you, of losing you forever” he sighed, finally raising his head “I kept all of them. All of the lists. And I keep finding new things I want to talk with you about and since we got together it seems the list never stops growing. As if I am making up for the time lost, because now we do have that time”
Nesta did not know what to say in answer to that. Sometimes, when she had a bad day and felt like the old bitter and angry Nesta — the one who drowned her problems in alcohol and refused to let herself feel anything good at all — she had to remind herself that she was deserving of the love she had now. That she was deserving of her sisters — the old and the new ones — and of her friends and family.
That she was deserving of such a good male like Cassian. Her mate, her husband, her friend and her family.
“You can laugh if you want,” Cassian said, sounding a bit nervous about her reaction “Cauldron knows I must sound like a madman creating make believe arguments”
“Why would I laugh when my mate loves me so much that he cannot help but think of me literally every single moment?” Nesta arched an eyebrow, letting all of her love and adoration for him shine through their bond.
“What you just said is book love interest level, Cassian” she kissed him, burying her hands in his hair “I would be a fool to laugh.”
Nesta could see the relief in his eyes and she smiled. “You can ask me anything you want to know, anytime. Especially if it means you will cook more sweets for me, xe porang termireco”
Cassian groaned, rolling them so his weight pressed her down deliciously.
“You will be the death of me, Lady Death” he whispered, nipping at her ear.
“I thought you were tired from your flight” she breathed as he started kissing her neck.
“You know what you speaking Illyrian does to me,” he argued, “especially when you call me your handsome husband ”
And Nesta made sure to call him plenty of things in Illyrian in the next hours, both of them falling asleep only when the sun was rising.
•
tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis
[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]
#nessian#nesta x cassian#nesta archeron#cassian#acosf#a court of silver flames#post acosf#sarah j maas#sjmaas#sjm fanfic
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hey, could you do a, trigger warning by the way, where the reader was harassed in the street/ and or in the workplace and she comes home sad, but doesn't tell kylian anything, he tries to talk to her about what it happened, and in the end she ends up telling him and he comforts her and in the end you decide, if you can and feel comfortable, thank you. <3
thank you for requesting this one!
also tw : violence, harassment , verbal abuse , non consensual touching, don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable!!!
kylian mbappe x reader
Fairytale
You loved your work.
You really did.
You worked for a big photography company based in Paris. Always working with famous photographers coming from all over the world. Your company worked for important museums and events all over the country and that’s how you met Kylian. You and your colleagues were sponsoring the company during some football event and when he was asked to take some pictures for it he couldn’t help but be mesmerised by you. Your beauty and kindness made him fall in love with you.
You started dating a couple of weeks after your first meeting and now, two years into the relationship things were going wonderfully amazing, both for him and you.
A few things were changed inside the company, as it began to expand internationally your boss decided to hire more people so they could help with the amount of work you all had to do.
One of this people was Luis. He was kind and shy at first. He was a little bit older than you but not that much. You’ve been his mentor when he first started, he knew he could rely on you especially when there were so many things do to and he had no idea of where to start. You were always welcoming with anyone who asked for help so you didn’t mind spending more time at the office helping him out.
He tried to ask you out once but you stopped him right away, telling him you actually have a boyfriend.
He got the memo and never made any kind of requests to you, instead he asked you to forget about his failed attempt so you could be just friends - of course you agreed, in the end he was your colleague and you wanted to work with good energy.
One friday night you and Luis were staying over finishing some project that you didn’t want to finish the next day. You already texted Kylian telling him you were getting home late because of work and, even if he sounded sad he knew how much you loved your work so he couldn’t really complain, not after all the nights you spent awake waiting for him to come back from training.
“I think we’re almost done” Luis said writing something on his computer.
“Yup. I’m all done with these pictures…” you showed him and closed the computer waiting for him to be done.
“Give me a minute and I promise you that you won’t see me again until next Monday” he joked and you laughed a bit.
Once he was all done you stood up from your chair and went to grab your jacket but Luis hands stopped you.
He took your wrist and turned you to him.
“Are you okay?” you asked him, concern evident in your voice since he was acting a bit strange.
“Why don’t we stay here for a bit longer? No one’s here…” he whispered and something told you that you had to turn around and run as far as you could but his hands still on your wrist stopped you from doing so.
“Luis I think we should go home…and rest, we’re clearly very tired…” you tried to calm him down, panic surging in you.
“Perhaps…you should come home with me? What do you think?” he said taking a few steps over and putting his hands on your hips “I could show you some things that your football boyfriend doesn’t know…he doesn’t deserve you. He’s probably fucking a new girl every night when you’re not home…I could really show you some things” he said while one of his hands grabbed your butt and squeezed it a little.
“Please Luis stop…just let me go and I won’t say anything about it…” you said, tears falling from your eyes.
“Why? Why should I let you go? You know what I’m saying is the truth…in these past years he has probably cheated on you every single time you weren’t there…” he said and you tried to not let those words into you. You’ve always been insecure about your relationship, mostly because you didn’t look like any kind of models Kylian dated, and you didn’t look like any other football player’s girlfriends. You were just you with a normal job and a normal life, no one special or famous. Even now that you and Kylian were dating you wanted your life to remain private, not looking for money or fame.
But Luis knew your weak spot and he was trying to get into your head.
“It’s not true…I love Kylian…he would never do something like that” you said back and he laughed.
“Maybe…or maybe he’s fucking a model while you’re here all alone with me…” he said, his lips ghosting over your ear and it made you shiver. You were completely terrified. And alone.
“We could have some fun now…” he squeezed your ass again trying to get into your panties.
You were scared and you had no idea of what to do, but adrenaline was rushing through you so, with your knee you reached his lower parts a kicked as strong as you could. You saw him leaving his grip on you and clenching down from the pain and in that moment you ran outside the building, not even caring about your jacket or laptop. You only got your bag and your car keys and you reached for your car. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t focus on the road but your main goal was to reach home and kylian’s comforting arms.
You were driving too fast but you didn’t care.
Once you reached home you didn’t even bother to park your car, you just left it there once the gate was opened.
Kylian was currently laid on the couch scrolling through his phone when he heard your engine stop, sign that you were arrived.
You opened the front door and Kylian swore he almost died when he saw the state you were in. Your eyes red and puffy and your face wet with tears, your body was shaking and you couldn’t breathe.
“Y/n? Babe? What happened?” he ran to you when he saw you couldn’t even stand by yourself.
You tried to speak but no word came out of your mouth.
“Princess talk to me…are you hurt? What happened…baby? Please talk to me…” he said reaching for your hands “can I touch you baby?” he asked softly and you nodded. He wrapped his arms around your body and you let your tears fall while he softly stroke your back.
“Shh…it’s okay baby” he whispered trying to soothe you “can you tell me what happened baby?”
“He…he touched me and I just-I didn’t do anything, I was paralyzed” you explained and he was fuming, someone touched you without your consent.
“Who baby?” he asked even if he knew who did it.
“Luis…he-he tried to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence that you began crying again. Kylian got what you meant and he was so mad at Luis that he was sure he wouldn’t have his job the next day.
“It’s okay baby, it’s over now…you’re here and he can’t hurt you, you’re safe baby” he comforted you and that’s all you needed.
“Why don’t we sit on the couch for a bit? I can prepare you a cup of tea if you want to…” he suggested but you shook your head.
“No please, I just want you…” you said hugging him, holding him for dear life.
“I’m not leaving baby, I promise you” he helped you sitting on the couch while he sat next to you.
You were still pretty shocked, still trembling but your cries stopped.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked you but you said no.
“Did he…” he didn’t even want to ask you that but he had to know if anything bad happened.
“No he didn’t. I stopped him before he could do anything…he just, his hands were all over me and I felt my body completely numb, I wasn’t even reacting…” you said feeling guilty about what happened. Kylian sensed it too but he comforted you.
“Baby, it wasn’t your fault okay? None of this…he’s just a dick who can’t accept a no, it wasn’t your fault…you’re just a victim but I’m glad you’re okay…you’re safe” he kissed your forehead and held you in his arms.
“Why can’t people be nice? Sometimes I wished I was fucking Cinderella and I lived in a fairytale, why can’t that be the real world?” you asked and Kylian soften a bit.
“You’re too good for this world baby…we don’t deserve you” he said kissing your cheek, making you smile a bit.
“He’s dead…his career’s over, I promise you he will never hurt you or anyone ever again” Kylian said with a poisonous voice. You knew Kylian was pretty famous, especially in France, he was seen as a God, capable of incredible things and you also knew he had his contacts. Plus your boss was a huge PSG fan so he only needed to call him to have Luis fired.
Kylian didn’t care if he was going to ruin a man’s life. He couldn’t care less, not when that man harassed you, tried to get his way to you, touched you without your consent and scared you. Kylian was so mad he could have killed him but you needed him and his comfort and he was going to take care of you as long as you needed him.
#kylian mbappe#kylianmbappe x reader#kylian mbappe x reader#kylian mbappe imagines#kylian x reader#kylian mbappe fluff#kylian mbappe angst#kylian mbappe imagine#kylian mbappe smut#kylian mbappe one shot#kylian mbappe x you#psg#paris saint germain#equipe de france#football fan#football imagine#football drabble#football blurb#football x reader
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I can’t read it until all 3 parts are out. For my own mental stability. I’m waiting patiently.
Well. This is it folks. The final instalment. It’s been a ride. Please know this isn’t truly the end. But it’s the end of our main storyline. There will be more to come. Your feedback, reactions and support are so deeply appreciated.
-> Warnings: Mentions of Domestic Violence/Abuse. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin x Platonic!F!reader.
-> Word Count: 5.2k
As always, for the final time—read from the beginning here. Finale Part One | Finale Part Two | Finale Part Three | Jake & Fe’s karaoke Song <- Please Listen To
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
In the darkness of the night you slowly made your descent down the flight of stairs. Everything was still, not a sound could be heard amongst the silence that was three in the morning. You’d woken with a hankering for a few scoops of that delicious fudge brownie ice cream you had in the freezer.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, a familiar shadow caught your attention as he sat on the lounge. You knew who it was.
“You can’t stay here forever Bob—“ You sighed as you padded on into the kitchen. Bob followed you silently as he watched you reach for two spoons. “I thought once Rooster ripped up that carpet you would have got the memo.” You turned on your heels to reach up and into the freezer for your pint of ice cream.
“Got nowhere else to go.” Bob shrugged as you handed him the spoon. “You got me killed, remember?” In the blink of an eye, Bob didn’t look like Bob anymore, he looked like something straight out of a horror film when you looked back up to meet his gaze. “You didn't do enough when you should’ve known what he was capable of.” There was no excuse you could have given the version of Bob that stood before you that would have made things right. But you settled for the truth, the fact of the matter as the bloodied, beaten and shot version of Robert Floyd took a spoonful of your pint of ice cream.
“I was scared—“ You whispered in the darkness of the night. “I was scared of him.” Bob just nodded. It always ended the same.
“So was I.”
With a gasp you woke up in a mess of cold sweats. This had happened before and it would surely happen again. It had only been a few weeks since Bob's untimely death and two weeks since his funeral. There was not a dry eye in sight as Rhett stamped those wings into his brother's coffin.
“I wish I could change what happened, Rhett.” It was during a recess break in Jaidyn's initial custody hearing that you found Rhett outside the courthouse. He could tell by the way your voice sounded meeker than normal that you were afraid of what he thought of you. That he blamed you for this, for everything. The way he had come barrelling into the hospital once he’d heard what had happened was a sight you’d never forget. “I wish I could go back and change how I did things. Had I maybe done something sooner—been a little more brave, Bob might still be here.”
“What’s happened, happened.” Rhett finally turned to where you sat next to him on the bench under the trees that were kissed with fall tones, amber, orange and brown. “That's an expression of faith in the mechanics of the world.” Rhett explained softly as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer till your head found comfort against his shoulder. “People use it as an excuse to do nothing—but you—Y/n, have done all that you can.”
“I don’t believe in fate—“ You replied through a soft whimper. “I don’t believe that fate would have taken him away from us.” You sobbed in Rhett’s warm embrace as Bradley stood close by watching over you. He was always watching. He was just there in case you needed him—and thank goodness he was because you needed him the most. “I don’t believe fate would have put me through that, put you through this.” Rhett could understand where you were coming from, to fight off falling into a bottomless pit of despair and depression Rhett had to see all this from another perspective—the perspective of his brother. The brother that gave the ultimate sacrifice. His brother Bob.
“Call it what you want, but it happened and all we can do now is try to clean up the mess we’re left with.”
“What do you call it?” You asked as you sat up to give Rhett your full attention, you knew after the short recess that it would be all about Bob's untimely demise. The first half of the session had been all about the abuse you’d endured. “This, all this chaos?” Rhett knew what Bob would have said. He was a numbers guy, a grounded in reality kind of guy. “What do you call it?” So with one word Rhett explained to you that he wasn’t mad nor spiteful. He wasn’t angry or out for revenge—against you that was. If given the chance Rhett would kill that son of a bitch in the blink of an eye. But he was simply glad he’d been there for you and done all that he could to protect you from possibly being the one who you’d just laid to rest three days prior. Just like Bob had asked him to do.
“Reality—“
As you sat up in bed you turned on your little bedside lamp that illuminated the bedroom you shared with Bradley in an orange hume. He was sleeping soundly on his chest, snoring slightly because the deviated septum he now had made it harder for him to breathe. He was getting used to it though, pulling G forces however—that hurt like a mother fucker.
“You okay there mama?” You and Bradley had decided to stay in the home that had been a house or horrors for that one fateful day. You didn’t want to run anymore, didn’t want to hide. Bradley had replaced the bloodied carpet and rearranged the living room. He thought changing things up might help. It wasn’t in the logistics to move, he still had a lease.
The new carpet didn’t make the nightmares any less paralyzing or less prevalent though. You were both working through the PTSD that that day left behind. So was Jake. So was little Odette. You couldn’t get her in the upstairs bathroom to save yourself. For good reason.
“I’m fine, just had abit of a nightmare.” You’d been having pretty consistent nightmares since that day. Your therapist assured you that it was completely natural. That it was all a part of the grieving process. The healing journey.
“The ice cream one or the couch one?” Bradley sighed as he rolled over, flicking on his own lamp as he rubbed his eyes. You were still in an immobilization sling for another few weeks. Doctor Taylor wasn’t happy to see your name back on his chart less than twelve hours post your first discharge. But he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. If he had been a beating man he swore his life savings would have been on your odds.
“The ice cream one—“ You yawned as you looked at the time on your phone. Three am. Bob's most prevalent witching hour. “He only told me I killed him like once this time so I think we’re making some progress.” Bradley chuckled softly as he pulled you down and into his chest. He knew how much you were struggling to overcome the adversity you’d faced, he was too. You all were. No one had seen Phoenix of Rhett in days. Fanboy was doing his best to keep tabs but he was only one guy.
“I think he’d get a real kick knowing Hangmans got a pair of glasses tattooed on his ass.” The entire group had gone and gotten a tattoo in memoriam. You, Bradley, Jake, Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, Coyote and of course Rhett all had a pair of Bobs signature glasses tattooed. Yours had been placed on your finger. Bradley got his on his wrist. You couldn’t help but to smile against Bradley’s exposed chest as he wrapped his arm around you. He’d lost a fair few people in his life. Bob was just the latest on the list of good people taken too soon. “But I also think he’d be so proud of you.”
“No you killed him.” Jaidyn played his final attempt to manipulate you. He wanted you to kill him. That was his end game. That was his plan. To ruin your entire life. “You killed him Y/n and darlin, you don’t have the fucking balls to kill me you poisonous bitch—“ Jaidyn snarled as you pressed your foot further into his chest. “Go on, pull the fucking trigger! DO IT!”
*Bang*
You hadn’t killed him, Jaidyn that was. But you did shoot him through his shoulder before you dropped to your knees in shock at the fact you’d thought about it and came seconds away from doing so. He was arrested and taken to hospital under police custody. He’d still yet to be officially sentenced, but for now he was in custody, without possibility of making any kind of bail. He’d spend the entirety of the time waiting on his trial behind bars.
“I’m gonna go sleep in Odette's room for a little while.” You mumbled before you turned to kiss Bradley’s chest. He understood why. You’d been like this for weeks.
“I love you.” Was all he mermed in response before you were sitting up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing off out of the warmth of the bed you shared with the love of your life. Rooster saw no reason to spot you, he was only going to follow you in about five minutes or so.
“I love you too.” You took your time as you padded down the hall to the room where your daughter slept soundly. She’d taken a little while to get used to having a room all to herself. Most nights she was racing down the hall in her pajamas screamed and crying just looking for you. On the nights she was able to sleep soundly through the night you’d be the one who woke up in cold sweats from your own nightmares. Both one in the same—the pair of you couldn’t go a night apart.
As you opened her bedroom door the sight you saw melted your heart. Bradley had hooked up one of those roaming lamps that projected stars onto the roof of Dots room. He’d told her one night during one of her moments where she felt like she was drowning, that her grandparents would keep her safe from all the monsters in her closet while he was sleeping and that he’d keep her safe from the monsters of the world. That was his promise, that he’d always protect her.
The stars lit up her room just enough so that she wasn’t shrouded in darkness. The teddy bear in her arms wore a flight suit with a tiny ‘Bob’ stitched into the fabric. He wore a set of glasses that matched your tattoo. Bobby bear had quickly become Dot's favourite toy. Rhett had gotten it for her, he’d never tell anyone but he had one too. It sat on his suitcase just staring at him just wondering when he was going to go back home.
“My sweet girl.” You whispered as you crawled into bed with your daughter. Bradley swore blue that he and Jake were going to find the time to make her the princess bed she deserved. For right now though it was just a simple frame with a lip big enough to stop her from falling. “Mamas here.” You cooed as you pulled her close. Even in her sleeping state Dot reached up to touch your cheek. “I love you so much.”
Mav had been staying in the spare room since the incident. He’d felt so guilty for not being around. He’d been so focused on the internal investigation into Beau Simpson's competence that he truly did believe there were enough people around you to stop a tragedy from occurring again.
He’d been wrong. So in the spare room he stayed until Bradley had convinced him that his little family was safe.
“Room for one more?” Bradley’s voice sounded ever so soft as he crept into Odette's room. You looked at him as he padded in. Sweats hanging low off his hips to expose those deep vee lines with the elastic of his boxer briefs poking out the top.
“Unfortunately Bradshaw, I think this beds full.” The way you smiled, the way you spoke, the way you loved so deeply and so passionately made Bradley Bradshaw's heart skip a beat. He’d sat with you and your lawyer every time you had a meeting, he listened to all the abuse you endured and put up with for years. As did Jake. The pair sat and listened to the pain in your voice and watched the tears stream down your cheeks. They couldn’t understand how you didn’t harbor that hatred. But Bradley finally understood why you’d been so hesitant to give him a chance.
He was so thankful you did.
“Floor it is then.” He groaned softly as he dropped down to his knees and snaked one of Odette stuffed toys for a pillow. Bobby Bear looked him dead in the eye as if to say pick another. He did just that and settled for the stuffed ladybug. You chuckled softly to yourself at the way Bradley trailed behind you only minutes later. He’d been plagued with nightmares of his own. Only his were of you on your knees telling him you loved him with that gun pressed to your head. In his nightmares Jaidyn always pulled the trigger. In his nightmares Dot was drowned. In Bradley Bradshaw's nightmares he lost both his girls, and that’s what made him settle for the floor of his daughters room most nights, looking up at the stars that roamed the roof of her bedroom—
Slowly but surely drifting off to sleep. Knowing that you’d be there when he woke up. Forever and always.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Four Months Later
“Amilia! It’s tradition! Now, give me the microphone!” Jake whined as he trailed behind Amilia like a lost puppy. She was busy doing her rounds, collecting empty beer bottles and glasses from the table tops of the Hard Deck.
“Just because it’s tradition doesn’t mean I should be subjected to your awful pitch, Seresin.” The two had been inseparable since their date at Preston’s. Jake had failed to actually show up for their planned date. With all his emergency contacts already being in the hospital and with the rest of the Daggers in complete and utter shambles over Bob's death, Jake had asked the nurses that were looking after him to call Amilia for him, as his emergency contact.
She’d stayed his emergency contact since. There was no point having you anymore, because whenever you were in trouble you could count that Jake was gonna be there right beside you and vice versa.
The second Jake was discharged though, with cuts and bruises alike, he took Amilia to Preston’s like he’d promised he would. They went straight there and hadn’t looked back since. Like two peas in a pod.
“I’m gonna combust woman! I need to!” Jake pleaded as he held Amilia still by her hips from behind so she couldn’t step another step away. “Give, me, the, microphone.”
“Don’t do it Oz!” Fanboy egged on the drama unfolding before him as he sat at the bar waiting on Penny to finish gathering his latest order. “Don’t make us suffer—“
“Coyote is on top of the leaderboard!” Jake wanted to pull his own hair out. He was the karaoke king, you were the karaoke queen—there was no ifs or buts about the situation. “Do you understand how pressing this matter is!?” As Amilia rounded the corner back behind the bar where Penny was busy pouring copious amounts of liquor for her alcoholic patrons, she shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“If you sing home among the gumtrees again I swear I’ll have Penny ring that bloody bell Jake.” Amilia conceded. “Five buck entry fee—cough it up.” She stuck her hand out as Jake grinned ear to ear, he was quick to fish the crumbled up bill from his wallet before he slapped it into his girlfriend’s awaiting hand.
“You won’t regret it.” Jake beamed as he watched Amilia pocket the five dollar bill. It was her gig, karaoke with half price wings & tings night had really become a hit. Penny let Amilia make a little extra cash with the five dollar entry fee. She’d essentially been robbing Jake in broad daylight ever since.
“Somehow I think I will.” Amilia leaned over the bar to kiss Jake on the cheek before she handed him two microphones from under the bar. “Go reclaim your crown.”
“I'll be back to revel in my glory soon.” The smile couldn’t have been more genuine if Jake wanted it to be. He was in love, if he wasn’t he couldn’t begin to imagine what true love actually felt like if this wasn’t it. “Stay gorgeous, make sure these guys are tipping you well!” He shouted as he walked away and all Amilia did was shoo him off. Immediately turning her attention back to the crowd surrounding the bar.
“Fe!” Jake's voice rattled around in your brain as he approached the table you’d been sitting at with Rooster and Pete. little Odette was on your lap colouring in one of the many colouring in pages you’d grabbed from Amilia on the way in. “Show time!” He wiggled his hips as he showed you the microphones. “Just like old times?”
“Oh no—“ You tried to turn the offer down. “Jake, it's packed in here!” But it was to no avail. Jake was reaching out for Dot like there was nothing stopping him from reclaiming what was rightfully his. All Bradley did was chuckle to himself as Jake played the little girl down in his lap. Deciding he was now on Dot duty while he whisked you away to be his partner in crime.
“Uh, yeah! Which makes it the perfect time to whoop Coyotes arse!” Jake hadn’t been this content in a while. He felt like things were all coming together again after his entire world had been tipped on its axis point. He missed Bob, so fucking much. He took it personally to the point that his nightmares were almost a nightly occurrence. The choice he made he’d never forget. The tattoo on his ass served as a permanent reminder of the guy who was every bit the man Jake wished he could trade places with. “So come on! Let’s get our karaoke on!” You looked to Rooster across the booth for support, he gave you some as he shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head.
“Better get up there.”
“You’re meant to have my back.” You groaned as you squinted your eyes and sighed in disbelief.
“I do, that’s why I want you to go and have some fun.” Bradley had in his back pocket his mother’s engagement ring that she’d given him before she passed. He’d kept it in his dads red velvet wedding ring box since he’d had it. As Bradley watched Jake haul you away to belt out a beat, he knew he’d made the right choice.
“Everythings set outside when you're ready, Rooster.” Mav bumped the son he’d claimed as his own on the shoulder. “She’s just perfect for you.”
“Yeah—“ Bradley still hadn’t taken his eyes off you as he watched you and Jake set up and select your song. “Yeah she really is isn’t she.” There wasn’t a time Bradley didn’t believe you weren’t the one for him, but after everything you’d gone through, after everything he’d seen, after the losses you’d learnt to accept and the fear you’d overcome—Bradley had never been so sure.
“Your mum and dad would be so proud of you kid.” Mav had watched the man sitting beside him grow up into such a fine young man. He was every bit the man his father was. “They really would be.” The music filled the Hard Deck and captured everyone’s attention—whenever you and Jake were paired for karaoke they all knew it would be a good time.
“Our children will always hear romantic tales of distant years, our gilded age may come and go. Our crooked dreams will always glow.” You sang a little off tune but with a whole lot of heart as the entire Hard Deck watched you and Jake dance and act like teenagers who’d snuck into an underground nightclub.
“Stick with me, oh you're my best friend! All of my life, you've always been, Remember remember, All we fight for!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. Rooster saw from the corner of his eyes the way Amilia blushed from second hand embarrassment from behind the bar. That was her dork now. All Bradley had to say was good luck to her.
Across the way sat Rhett and Phoenix. It was the first time Bradley saw a genuine smile creep across Natasha’s face since Bob’s death. Out of everyone it hit her the hardest. They’d flown together for years and without Bob? Phoenix didn’t know what she was doing in the sky. What way was up or what way was down. But she knew he was here, watching over them. Her tattoo was placed across her heart. Gone but never forgotten was Robert Floyd. She didn’t blame you either. Not a single bit.
“Don't leave me, oh you're my best friend
All of my life, you've always been. Don't leave me now, you're my best friend, All of my life, you've always been!” As your voice melted with Jakes, Bradley also took notice of the genuine hold Rhett Abbott had on Natasha's thigh, just above her knee. Not too high that it would be deemed inappropriate for a public setting. It was just genuine and real. The pair had been spending more and more time together, Bradley assumed it was from the grief, but now? When he saw the way Phoenix looked at Rhett the same way Jake looked at Amilia the same way he looked at you? He wasn’t so sure it was grief, but love born from a tragedy. How that would turn out he wouldn’t hold his breath over, but he was happy for them.
“Remember remember—, All we fight for!” It was your turn to sing as Jake jumped around.
“Remember remember— All we fight for!” It was Jake's turn to scratch out as you twirled and laughed at the cheers that echoed out around you.
“Oh oh oh oh oh—“ The both of you sing in unison into the same microphone. It was like a slow motion fade out as the music died down and the applause erupted. Bradley held Odett high in the air so she could clap and wave your way. Only placing her down when you’d made your way back to him.
“I love you so much.” Bradley pulled you close as he kissed your temple, having watched you and Jake sing your hearts out to keep your covenant top stop on the karaoke board. “I’ve got something to show you if you’ll step outside with me for a minute?” He whispered in your ear as he looked at him with questions and confusion written all over your face.
“Sure—“
“Tooster has a supwise for you mamma.” Dot added as you walked hand in hand with your little girl out towards the back patio of the Hard Deck where it backed onto the Beach reserve. You could see all the festoon lights outside but never thought in a million years there'd be a little picnic set up under those lights.
“I can see that little miss.” You looked down at Dot as she held your hand and walked by your side, Bradley was just ahead of you, looking up at the stars above in the night sky hoping his parents were out there somewhere looking down on him. “Did you know about this?”
“Tooster told me before bed wast night.”
Rooster thought that it would be good to keep Odette looped in, his palms were super sweaty as he tucked her in and turned on her little star lamp. He kneeled beside her bed—kissed her forehead softly and told her that he loved her.
“Can you keep a secret?” Dot nodded. Bradley wasn’t so sure, she’d developed a bad habit of throwing people under the fucking his lately. Her latest victim had been Chase—who was sneaking lollies from the lolly jar. But he wanted her to know. “You know I love you and your mama very much right?”
“So much?” Dot had had a big day, she’d spent the afternoon with her uncle Jake, what those two had been up to Rooster had no idea, but whatever it had been had tuckered the little tack.
“Oh the most baby girl.” Bradley smiled so bright at your daughter. “So much that I’m gonna ask your mum to marry me tomorrow night, because that’s just how much.” What Bradley didn’t tell little Odette was that he was gonna ask her too.
“Bradley, what is all this?” You asked cautiously as Dot ran off to catch up to Rooster. He picked her up and spun her around as you reached the small blanket laid on the sand under festoon lights. “Rooster—?”
“I’ve uh—“ Bradley just had to get it all off his chest. “Honestly this is something I should have done months ago if I’m being honest.” He let out a soft chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. He could see Jake standing on the back patio, proud as ever that his best friend was finally getting her happily ever after. “Y/n—“
“No stop, you're not Rooster.” You wanted to cry as you cupped your hands over your face. “This isn’t happening—“
“I told you when we were in the hospital that I was gonna ask you to marry me.” Bradley reminded you as he reached in for the ring box in his back pocket. He was on one knee before you in seconds with Odette in his arms. “Y/n, you deserve so much more than you’ve ever been given.” Bradley started as you began to cry tears full of happiness. “There are so many things about you that make me want you forever, your smile, your character, the way you love so fiercely.” He held your daughter close as he kissed her cheek and looked up at you over her shoulder. “If you had asked me when I first met you if I knew I’d ask you to marry me I would have said yes.” With shaking hands you reached out to cup Bradley’s cheeks as you stood above him, looking down. He had his own tears threatening to spill as he smiled up at you with golden irises full of love and admiration.
“You’re the love of my life and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, for Odette.” Bradley wanted to include your daughter in all this as much as he possibly could. It was important to him. “You came into my life like a whirlwind dream and not once have I ever had any doubts about you, about wanting to marry you.”
To Bradley, you were a force to be reckoned with. You’d seen your fair share of trails and heartache that would’ve brought most people to their knees. But not you. You maintained a peace about you that Bradley thought was otherworldly. You carried yourself with such grace but yet held such fire behind your eyes. He knew, for sure, that you were the one he wanted in his corner forever.
“Rooster—“
“Marry me Y/n.” Bradley finally said it. He said the three words that took the breath straight from your lungs. “My god please marry me, I just wanna spend the rest of my life reminding you how much love you deserve, how so loved you are.”
“Rooster—“ You were trying to say yes, trying to tell the man kneeling before you that you wanted him forever and then some more. But he wouldn’t let you interrupt.
“I'll never not remember the fear I felt when I almost lost you.” It was a harsh reminder of the things you fought so hard to protect. “I can’t ever lose you—you're my best friend, the love of my life, the best mother to the best little girl I know.” Yep. That was it, that was the moment you dropped to your knees and took Bradley’s lips hostage with yours. He let out a small oof when he fell back against the blankets with Dot.
“Of course I’ll marry you, how could I ever not.”
“Really?” Rooster’s eyes were as wide as they could get with joy and excitement.
“I’m in love with you Roo, have been ever since I first met you.” The thing about Bradley that scared you the most was you’d do anything he ever asked of you. If he asked you to jump you’d ask how high and without hesitation he’d be jumping right next to you. “I always will be.” The two of you could not have been more perfect for one another if you tried. With all your imperfect flaws and weaknesses you made each other whole. “So yes, a thousand times yes I’ll marry you.”
As if to say he couldn’t believe what he was hearing Bradley embraced you and your daughter like it was the first time he was experiencing touch filled with love and compassion. This was it for him—you were his everything. A few months ago he thought he’d lost it all. But now, laying here with you under the stars in North Island, everything was going to be okay.
“And for you miss Odette.” Bradley sniffled as he reached into his pocket for a golden signet ring he’d had made for the little girl who’d stolen his heart. It had her birthstone and all, a little red garnet encased in a heart. Bradley’s heart. “I wanted to ask you something too.” He turned all his attention to Odette who wore the brightest smile on her little face. “Will you let me be your friend forever?”
It melted your heart. Odette nodded as her bottom lip quivered, she didn’t really know what any of this meant but one day she would.
“I wuv you, Tooster.” Odette cuddled into Bradley with all her might as he sat beside you on the blankets under the festoon lights. So much love was left to share between the three of you. So much heartbreak was still left to overcome. But the most important thing of all was that Bradley had his family, the love of his life was about to be his wife. The three year old in his arms would grow up safe and oh so loved.
Bradley was your rock, your world. And as you caught the sight of Jake standing out on the back porch with Amilia wrapped up under his arm you wished he’d get the chance to feel this love too. He’d been the best damn best friend anyone could ask for. He gave you a loving family, the only thing you ever asked for in your entire life.
Odette had her person, her protector, a friend she could count on for the rest of her life. She had her Tooster. And oh boy was that Roosters favourite thing of all. Being Odette's Tooster.
It was his favourite thing of all, it was his favourite job, his favourite roll.
It was his favourite……Term Of Endearment.
Fin.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse e @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56 @seresinsaint @topguncortez @mandylove1000 @clancycucumber230
#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw#bradley x reader#bradleybradshaw#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw top gun#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw imagine#jake hangman seresin x reader
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Jack Harlow x Reader Instagram AU
A/N : This was supposed to be out Mother’s Day weekend 😳 read this first 💐
Liked by yourusername, mamamaggie, claybornharlow, yourbestiename, champagnepapi, and 8,678,355 others
jackharlow Feliz día de las madres to the love of my life. Baby, you make me the happiest person ever. Thank you for our babies, thank you for always going above and beyond for our family, thank you for loving us the way that you do. Thank you for teaching me something new every day. But most importantly, thank you for being you. Life wouldn’t be the same without you by my side. Mia and Ezequiel are the luckiest kids ever to have a super mama like you, te ami mi amor 😘 💜
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yourusername I FUCKING LOVE YOU BABY!!!!!! You really did spoil me so darn much 🥺 & the fact that you not only celebrate me on Latin Mother’s Day, but the gringos mother day as well. Love my babies for life.
jackharlow You deserve to be celebrated every day 😘
yourbestiename Not you sending me voice memos on how to spell certain words in Spanish 😭 we love a dedicated man’s.
jackharlow Thank you for that 🙌🏼
claybornharlow Happy latin Mother’s Day to you sis.
yourusername Thank you hermanito 🫶🏼
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Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, druski, claybornharlow, champagnepapi, and 8,677,355 others
yourusername When you jokingly tell your husband you want a pink Lambo….. Jackman, you really take me by surprise every damn day! It’s not just about the gifts, you know this. I know I said to return this, but don’t blame me if I actually end up keeping it 🙈 I love you, thank you for spoiling me this morning Mi amor.
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jackharlow What my baby wants, my baby gets. Even if you were joking about it!!!!! I love you.
druski damn bitch buy me one next
jackharlow You’re not my wife
druski I’m better, it’s called life partners hoe.
jackharlow Get out of here 🤣🤣
yourbestiename Ohh okay go off white boy, he did the damn thang.
urbanwyatt Let me take it for a spin?
yourusername I’ll think about it 🧐
neelamthadhani He didn’t 🤦🏻♀️
yourusername He did 🥰
claybornharlow Spoiling his wife as he should
cozane That’s hard asf. I need to borrow it.
mamamaggie PICK ME UP!!!!!!
yourusername On my way mama 🫶🏼
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yourusername added to their story
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Liked by jackharlow, neelamthadhani, yourbestiename, urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, and 7,986,345 others
yourusername My babies spoiled me today and every day. I’m forever thankful for the life I get to live next to my family 🥺💜 happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful mamas.
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jackharlow You deserve everything and more.
mamamaggie They did amazing huh?
yourusername Yesss🥺 always spoiling me.
mamamaggie Only the best for my daughter!
yourbestiename The cutest little hands 💕and the best floral arrangement you could’ve ever asked for.
yourusername Dude yeahhh, those are the best.
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Liked by yourusername, mamamaggie, druski, claybornharlow, djdrama, and 6,976,355 others
jackharlow Celebrating you all year long, because you deserve it.
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yourusername Te amo 🥰 🥺😘
druski I hope you went all out for mama Maggie as well.
jackharlow Do you not know me? 🙄
yourusername Of course he did, we can never forget about her.
mamamaggie Druski is always stirring the pot, now I know why Urb and yourbestiename are always trying to fight him
urbanwyatt FINAALLLYYY YOU GET IT
druski I was looking out for you Maggie 😡 no need to attack me now
claybornharlow It’s what you get for always talking shit about her cooking.
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Liked by jackharlow, badbunnypr, yourbestiename, karolg, urbanwyatt, and 8,577,355 others
yourusername Dinner date with the love of my life ❤️
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druski I’m over the Mother’s Day posts we get it. This is his birthday all over again.
yourusername I’m just going to block your ass.
jackharlow Do it!!!!!
urbanwyatt You’re just hating because you ain’t got a wife to celebrate for or kids
druski & your ass doesn’t either so sit your white ass down
cozane 💀
urbanwyatt I hate you
yourbestiename Cassie said “ohhh Tio Jack Jack handsome.”
jackharlow 🥺
yourusername Awww my babyyygirl, need to see her soon.
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Liked by jackharlow, cozane, urbanwyatt, yourbestiename, and 7,667,345 others
yourusername That’s a wrap on mothers day weekend. I love my little family 🫶🏼 thank you to my husband for making every year so special and for showering me with so much love every day. I love you ❤️
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jackharlow I love you baby ❤️
mamamaggie The best daughter in law I could’ve asked for. Thank you for loving my boy and for my wonderful grandchildren.
druskispamaccount OKAY SO UNBLOCK ME
urbanwyatt 💀 BRROOO 😭😭😭
druskispamaccount This was probably Jacks doing, y/n loves me way too much to actually block me.
yourusername I told you I was going to block you for being a hater!
claybornharlow No way haha he made a second account just to be back here?
druskispamaccount Sure did because no one is going to stop me from saying what I believe in.
jackharlow What exactly is that?
druskispamaccount That one mother day post is enough. I don’t need to see it every day or for the entire week. I had enough on your birthday.
yourusername This is why you’re blocked…. Again.
neelamthadhani Is he blocked again? Lmaoo
druskithirdaccount KNOCK KNOCK, YOU THOUGHT BITCH!!! Y’all just blocking me because you know I’m right.
jackharlow I know you ain’t calling my wife a bitch……
druskithirdaccount NOOOO I’M CALLING YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS A BITCH FOR INSTIGATING! Y/N LOVES ME SO YA MUST HAVE SAID SOMETHING TO CONVINCE HER TO BLOCK ME!!!
yourbestiename This was a cute post of The Harlows and you guys always have to bring nonsense into the comments.
druskithirdaccount I have to stir the pot with them since you and Urban aren’t feeding into my drama.
yourusername 🤦🏻♀️
druskithirdaccount DO NOT BLOCK ME
druskifourthaccount I’LL BE BACK
drukisfifthaccount I’LL ALWAYS FIND A WAY BACK!!!
mamamaggie Sadly, this is true! So many times I’ve tried getting him away!
druskififthaccount Wait hold up. What?
druskififthaccount Okay okay, happy Mother’s Day to the sexiest mom out there! How you got with your husband is beyond me, when you could’ve married me. Hope you had a great weekend, your kids are little savages and they are lucky to have you as their sexy ass mom.
jackharlow I’m gonna beat your ass.
yourusername You play too damn much. Considered yourself unblocked.
druski I’M BACK BABY!!!!!! Y/N BRING THAT ASS OVER HERE!
jackharlow Considered yourself blocked again. Bye.
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TAG LIST
@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree
#jack harlow#instagram au#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow x y/n#jack harlow x yn#jack harlow x you#jack harlow x oc#jackman thomas harlow#jack harlow imagines
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Forever Only
Pairing: exbf!Jaehyun x Reader
Genre: Exes to lovers, Idol!jaehyun, idol!reader, angst, private relationship
Word Count: 848
Summary: We broke up a year ago, now why does he suddenly wanna talk? Is his possible new song about me?
Authors note: Hey guys! Jaehyun’s new song has me in a chokehold and I obviously wanted to write bout it so here you go. Also, this is my first work of writing and I honestly only gave a brief summary because the fic in general isn't that long and I didn’t wanna spoil it lol. sorry about that, but I hope you give my fic a chance:D (listen to forever only in the background)
Sometimes I don’t recognize him when I see him on television.
This time, I did. Another award show. Another win. The camera panned across the row of members.
His face flashed on the screen. It might as well have been lightning to see it up close. Picture perfect.
He is smiling. I am not. He can still smile, despite everything that happened between us. The confetti bursts from the ceiling, and he opens his mouth.
The sound of his voice is like an ocean, A tidal wave. The song is playing. I try to bite back my tears, but I can’t. It’s our song.
– “Can we talk?” was the message on the phone. Underneath the text bubble, it says thirty minutes ago. I had just settled on a response. “I’m not this stupid.” I turned it off before I had the chance to click send.
I fell back on my bed and let out a sigh. What was there to talk about? He wanted me gone. Now he wants me back.
I’ve heard it all before. To think that all of those months were just a ploy to get me to be his call girl. To think that none of it was genuine.
To think that he broke up with me over a fourteen-second call. Click. My life shattered in a single press of a button. But the worst of all, to think that I still love him. After all of that. Maybe I am stupid. Beep.
“I’m not joking around, I promise.” Beep. And another text. “I’m at your door.” Jeong Jaehyun, you asshole.
I still left him on read, but my patience was diminishing. A part of me wanted to run out the door and hug him. Beep. This time, he sent a voice memo. I bit my fingernails.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to hear him out? Just a little. It was a recording of him singing. He was singing the same song he sang at the award show–our song.
I could hear him smiling through the screen. I started to sing along to his voice, harmonizing and matching his rhythm. He started breathing heavily. He must be cold outside. Maybe I am stupid.
I ran to the front door and unlocked it. I saw his face, red and pale in the winter snow. He was exhaling puffs of frosty air.
He didn’t have security with him.
Did he really come all the way here to talk? Without his guards? Someone could have seen him! Someone could have. He must have heard the chains clank against the door because his eyes lit up.
“Y/N?” I heard him call from behind the door. My heart started to burn. Fuck. I didn’t know I missed him this much. I opened the door as quickly as I could. There he was, in the flesh. His cheeks were colored with blush and I could tell he was trying not to smile.
The voice memo of him singing was still playing from my phone’s speaker. He was wearing a beige coat over a green turtleneck. Picture perfect.
A smile was creeping up on his face. I had a stupid grin on mine.
“Can I come in?” I bit the inside of my lip. All of the memories were flooding back into my head. He had broken up with me. Nothing could make me forget that. Not even him being here. But the fire in my chest was rising and rising and rising.
I could feel it almost bursting out of my throat. I was this close to falling back into his world.
“Twenty minutes,” I say with finality.
“I’ll give you twenty minutes.”
– “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Why insist on a private relationship? Am I something you’re ashamed of?” I was seething with rage. My fingers dug into my palms, turning my knuckles white.
He looked askance. He didn’t have an answer.
“No, I-”
“I am, aren’t I?” I could feel my face distorting,
“That’s why you were hiding me all that fucking time. That’s why you called it off. You’re just looking for someone to play with. And I get it. You’re an international star. Everyone loves you. You can have anything you fucking want!” Tears were falling out of my eyes.
But I didn’t care. I am stupid.
“Even me.” The room fell silent.
His wide eyes glimmered in the darkness. I continued,
“You can use me if you want. Just… ” I realized that he was crying.
“Why would I ever use you?” Water streaming down his eyes,
“I love you so much, Y/N. I did it all to protect you. People were sending me threats to kill you. If the public found out… I couldn’t do that to you.” He took my cheeks and cupped them in the palm of his hands.
“I’m not ashamed of you. How could I be, when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?” He tilted his head and attempted a smile. I cried into his shoulder and later after hours of talking we cuddled and fell asleep
Authors note: if you have made it till the end of this fic I really appreciate it, make sure to like,comment and reblog as it motivates me to write more for you guys💗🫶🏻
Also sorry for the loose ending, if this fic isn't a flop then I'll definitely write a part 2
#jaehyun x you#jaehyun x y/n#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x reader angst#jaehyun angst#angst jaehyun#jaehyun#jung jaehyun#nct 127#nct#nct 127 sad hours#angst#jung yoonoh#exes to lovers#nct jung jaehyun#nct jaehyun#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun forever only#forever only#Spotify
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Do you have any have any head canons about any of the pjo characters either in your fics or canon?
ALWAYS
(i actually really suck at coming up with headcanons on the spot because i mainly just think of them randomly while reading fics or writing and then five seconds later i. forget. so. ummm yeskjsdf i don't have that many tbh but i just created a draft and then added to this whenever i remembered to!
talk your talk!
nico has an ongoing feud with the intern who runs the olive garden social media account
is it too niche to have had taylor swift open for naomi solace- HEAR ME OUT THE TIMELINES MATCH UP OKAY (not really but it's pretty close - sure naomi dies in 2007 and taylor releases her debut album in that same year but like IT COULD HAPPEN)
once a year or so leo and piper steal nico's credit card and buy him a whole new closet of clothing because all he wears is his own tour merch or will's clothes and they insist they need to get him new clothes. at first it was just a one-time instance and nico like freaked out over how much money they spent, but then a few weeks later when having to go on tour and be seen in public a lot more often, he was incredibly grateful that they did it and it became a yearly tradition (does nico actually need all those clothes? no. he just donates the stuff that he doesn't use anymore because it's tradition to all of them now. rich ppl thingsKSLDF)
a habit that nico develops over the years is to occasionally record random voice memos of his friend group while they're all together. he doesn't actually use them a lot, but he likes holding on to them, and occasionally he'll use it as a very subtle and quiet background noise to a sound when he feels like it needs something else
i feel like i've already said this, but apollo and nico have a duolingo club. as in they are constantly trying to beat each other on the leaderboard while learning new languages
canon!
caleo breaks up
does that count as a hc
leo is aroace!
nico and leo friendship. 100%. im sorry it's actually canon. i wrote a fic about it.
annabeth and will friendship!!! both became head counselors at such a young age even though it was for different reasons - and you know how annabeth was in the infirmary when percy woke up? i think she just liked hanging out around there and often helped whenever she could, and so she was also pretty close with will who spent like his entire life there (well not rlly, but eventually he started to - plus they're both workaholics)
i actually have a whole series of will hc's and i KNOW that most of them have been disproved by canon and tsats but like they're still true in my heart😭
and im pretty sure that this is canon. but like. will is a swiftie. just putting that out there again-
(nico shadow traveled them into the eras tour and they very nearly got caught by security guardsLKSJ)
i also absolutely love any sort of hc that has to do with nico having a social media account where he sneaks into random places. that is so canon to me. let him cause a little chaos. also let this kid from the 1930s be completely addicted to the internet
thank you for the ask!!
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Please do one where Nat comes home from a mission and she hides an injury from you and she ends up being really sick! Or vice versa with the reader :)
Hiding The Truth
Hi there so this is my first longer-ish fic in ages so please lmk what you think. There may be a slight break in writing for afew days, some personal stuff has come up and I dont wanna put that energy in writing my writing :)
Summary: Nat was meant to be home hours ago, and you’re starting to wonder where she is.
Wordcount: 1208
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You knew something wasn’t quite right…
The feeling had started when Nat hadn’t called ahead. You got a memo from Jarvis to say that her mission had been successful and that she would be home shortly. Now normally Natasha texted you well before you ever received the memos but hey, maybe she just forgot.
You resisted the urge to text her, instead opting to fit in the common room to read a book whilst you waited for her to return. The minutes ticked by and those minutes eventually turned into hours. A growing feeling of concern was only increasing as the lack of Natasha’s presence sank in.
You hadn’t even felt yourself fall asleep in that small armchair. But your eyes fluttered awake afew hours later as noises clattered from the kitchen. Looking up you could see Clint rummaging around in the numerous cupboards.
“Hey.” You yawned, slowly making your way towards him. Now noticing that the bright sky outside had turned a deep navy blue.
“Oh, didn’t see you there.” He shot you a smile but groaned as he closed the final cupboard, “Have you seen the NyQuil anywhere?”
“I think Wanda and Pepper had the last of it last week.” You replied as your curiosity grew, “How come you need some anyway?”
Clint gave you a confused look, almost as if he had missed something in conversation, “For Nat?”
Huh? Since when had Nat arrived back? You looked down at your phone, no new alerts. Why hadn’t she told you?
“Nat’s back?” You asked, unable to hide your surprise, “Where is she?”
“She arrived back about an hour ago, I think shes still in the training room, didn’t she tell you?” Clint said, pouring himself a coffee. You gave him a shook your head before, thanking him and leaving the room in the direction of the training room.
As you approached the gym, you could hear the echo of punches from within. Soon followed by a deep series of damp coughs.
You didn’t know what to feel when you entered the room. You saw Natasha but it was obvious something was off. She looked tired, her strong punches were replaced by sloppy inaccurate hits at the dummy. She hadn’t even noticed your arrival, only turning around after you had cleared your throat loudly to announce yourself.
“Oh Natty.” You gave a sympathetic look as she slowly and wordlessly shuffled towards you, falling into your open arms, “When did you get back?”
“About an hour ago.” Her voice was raspier then usual, Nat sniffled wetly and she pulled herself out of your hold. It was then that you noticed that small goosebumps running down her bare arms, presumably from the AC which kept a cool stream of air flowing through the gym.
“How come you didn’t tell me?” You let the question slip from your mouth as she jumped onto the treadmill, cranking the speed up to a jog.
Natasha stayed silent for a moment before offering a quiet, “Im sorry, I just forgot.” Her voice trailed off into a deep chesty cough, the sound of which made you cringe. It was a wet sickly sound, and your mind filled with worry.
“Oh.” Was all you were able to forget, feeling slightly hurt that she had ‘forgotten’ you however yours feelings were replaces with pangs of worry as Nat’s breath wheezed into another deep cough as her jogging speed increased.
“‘Tasha, you feeling alright?” You asked, trying to look her over.
Nat looked her shoulder for a moment before turning back to her workout, “Y/N. I am fine.” Her voice broke out towards the end as her breath gave a sharp hitch.
You didn’t even get the chance to speak again before Natasha doubled over, “Hh’itshhiew! Hh..Hutshiew!” The sneezes made her lose her balance causing her to stumble backwards, her body slipping and hitting the floor with a painful sounding bang.
“Nat!” You exclaimed, instantly at her side, “Are you alright?” You asked frantically as you held out your arm to help her stand.
“Im fine.” She mumbled but accepted your help, “I just need to finish this work- Hh’etshiew!” Her sentence was interrupted as she sneezed into her hand, grimacing as she dared to look down at her palm
“You don’t sound very fine.” You raised an eyebrow at her, before slipping your palm across her alarmingly warm forehead, “Shit Nat-“
“Don’t.” She interrupted, giving you a guilty look knowing she’d been caught out.
“You should’ve told me Natasha.” Your voice was stern but concern seeped into your words.
To your surprise, Natasha came to lay her head on your chest as she shuffled into you, scrubbing st her runny nose with her wrist.
“Do I need to haul your ass to bed or are you going to come willingly?” You added, wrapping an arm around her waist as you guided her towards the exit.
You walked in silence until you got into the elevator it was only after the doors closed she let herself go slack against you. You couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her, judging from how sick she seemed, it was clear she must’ve been feeling awful for afew days at the very least.
Nat mumbled something against you, before giving a noise which could only be described as ‘the call of a miserably sick person”.
“Do you mind repeating that?.” You purred, keeping your voice low to not further aggravate her obvious headache.
“Did Clint ever find that Nyquil?” She sniffled as the elevator dinged, letting you both out into the hallway only stopping to muffle more painful sounding coughs into her elbow.
You sighed, knowing the answer to her question from your earlier encounter, “Im sorry baby, theres none left. Theres been a bug going around, it’s probably where you picked this up from.” You kissed her warm forehead and held the door to your bedroom open for her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She sniffled, taking off her jacket and throwing it against her desk.
You were expecting an apology but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t feel somewhat better for it.
“Its okay, lets just get you into bed.”
Nat groaned, allowing herself to flop onto the bed, quickly burrowing herself within the blankets. You couldn’t help but found her antics adorable, smiling as you saw, her peek her red nose poking above the blanket. But concern was ever present especially as her features changed and she ducked a sneeze into the covers.
“Bless ya!” You cooed as you went to hand her the box of tissues only stopping when you realised that the box was empty, “Aw honey, you look miserable, how would you feel about me quickly running out to pick you up some medicine and some tissues. And then if you’re still awake, we can cuddle until you fall asleep, does that sound okay to you baby?”
Natasha sniffled and gave you a grateful smile, her eyes full of fever and gratitude, “I think that would be wonderful.”
#sickfic#snzfic#marvel sickfic#whump#fluffy#marvel snzfic#mcu#snzfuck#femreader#snz#natasha romanoff sickfic#natasha romanoff snzfic#natasha romanoff whump#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff comfort#blackwidow x reader#blackwidow sickfic#sick!natasha romanoff x reader#sick natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff caretaking
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(Prompt if you take them): You wanted someone to force you to write, so I am simply relaying a strongly worded memo from Scully. She wants you to write about Mulder having such a normal crazy day that is as unbelievable as any X File.
Took me only 9 months to reply to this! The fic baby born from this prompt is very, very sweet. Here be fluff.
Fictober Day 10 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 932
(Not So) Ordinary Days
Any second now the world is going to end. That’s the only explanation for how this day has been going. Or not been going, rather. Mulder didn’t oversleep, he didn’t spill coffee on himself or anyone else, he didn’t get stuck in an elevator, run into people he didn’t want to see, wasn’t reprimanded by Skinner, Kersh, or anyone else.
There was no report he forgot to write and hand in, no case taking them out of the office, or perpetrators trying to kill them. He went to work, got the job done, and then went home. And that’s it. That is all that has happened today: nothing. Which is why he’s waiting, now. Clearly something is amiss. Days like these don’t happen to him.
“Scully, it’s me.” If anyone can make sense of this, it’s her.
“Mulder, is everything all right?” Immediately she sounds worried, probably thinking he hurt himself or wants her to meet him for some inane reason.
“Yes, everything is all right,” he says. “Or maybe not. That’s why I called you. Did today seem strange to you?”
“Strange? In what way?”
“Nothing happened,” he says.
“Did you want anything to happen?” Scully asks him, amusement slipping into her voice. There’s rustling on the other end of the line and he imagines her getting comfortable on her couch. He wonders what she’s wearing, if she’s already in her pajamas, maybe noshing on something sweet while reading, or watching TV. He’s so lost in his daydream about Scully that he almost forgets that he’s on the phone with her.
“No, I-… it was just so, so…” He can’t find the right word for what today has been.
“Normal?” Scully suggests.
“Too normal.”
“What does that even mean?” She asks him and he can hear her stifle a chuckle. He wants to hear her chuckle, he finds. Maybe the day has been normal – downright boring even – but talking to Scully, whether on the phone or in person is anything but. No matter how much they talk, it’s always a privilege. Hearing her voice in his ear, knowing she listens to him, and cares about him, is special. That’s not normal, not ordinary at all. Not to him, anyway.
“I don’t know,” he admits sheepishly. “I just thought it was weird.”
“Is that why you called me?”
“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Gone is his daydream about Scully sitting on the couch, eating ice cream, half waiting for a call from him. She might be getting ready for a date. Or the date is already in her apartment. Jealousy rears its ugly head, but Mulder shoves it down again, waiting for her reply.
“Hmm, I was going to start a movie.”
“By yourself?”
“Am I not allowed to watch a movie by myself?”
“Of course you are,” he says, trying not to sound too joyful about her being all alone. “What movie are you watching?” He asks, picking up his own remote control. “Maybe we can watch together.” The silence on Scully’s end is loud and Mulder is about to apologize when she does speak.
“You want to come over?” She asks him.
“I-” That hadn’t even occurred to him. All he thought was that they could stay on the phone and watch the movie together that way. “I-”
“Do you? I can put the ice cream back in the freezer so it won’t be melted when you get here.”
“I- you wouldn’t mind me coming over?”
“No,” she says and to his ears, she sounds almost shy. “Actually I think I’d really like that. We haven’t watched a movie together in a while.” The last time was on a case, forced to share a room together, and Mulder unable to sleep. They left the TV on all night and Scully fell asleep during The Maltese Falcon. Mulder had been up for a few more hours, torn between watching the TV screen and his sleeping partner.
“I’d love to come over. You sure you’re okay with that? We have work tomorrow.” But he’s already up from his couch, the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.
“Bring your overnight bag, just in case.”
He stops dead in his tracks. Is Scully propositioning him? And here he thought this day was eerily normal. There’s nothing normal about any of this after all. Maybe the world really is ending. Any second now she’s going to admit all of this was a joke, and that no, she doesn’t want to watch a movie with him. Except his Scully isn’t cruel. She doesn’t lie to him. She doesn’t use and abuse him.
“Mulder? Are you still there?”
“I am,” he says, with a smile. “Just thinking about what I’m going to wear tomorrow.”
“Don’t think too long about it,” she says. “See you in half an hour?” Those are the most beautiful words in the world, Mulder decides.
“See you in half an hour,” he confirms. They hang up the phone without saying goodbye, knowing they will see each other. Soon. Mulder tries to be quick and practical about it. Pack a suit, a toothbrush and… a t-shirt to sleep in? Scully said not to think too long about it. He throws in his yellow pajama pants and an old t-shirt. That will have to do. It’s all just in case. Isn’t it?
Just in case, he feeds his fish and switches off all the lights. He picks up his overnight bag, realizing he’s grinning. What an ordinary day this has been. But the night? That has the potential to be out of this world.
#fictober2022#fluffy rambling#today was my first day back at work so i needed something that was just... this#msr#xf fanfic#my writing#my fic
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CONGRATS DELLA!!!! IM SO SUPER DUPER PROUD OF YOU <3
🌷 I was wondering if I could have a fluff blurb with Eddie? I struggle with anxiety and things being too much for me, so I was thinking Eddie comforting reader who is overwhelmed with school and life. Maybe a prompt could be, "c'mon...let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."
This is usually something I do to stop my thoughts from running wild and stressing out...hopefully this is helpful, but please let me know if it's too complicated and I could totally do somethng more simple!!!
congrats again, della!!! 💘🌸🌟
Thank you 🥰🥰😚
It’s not too complicated, it’s lovely 💕(not proof read 😬)
You’ve been looking at this one page for an hour and a half, trying to sit down and get it done, but your brain didn’t seem to get the memo this was work time, not intrusive thoughts time. You think you have to be shaking with all the thoughts running around your body, a discordant orchestra of anxieties in a thunderstorm taking over your mind. You try to tell yourself you’ll be fine, it’s only one grade, your teachers like you well enough, they can be understanding. Not if they don’t like you as much as you thought they did, if this is the one time Mrs. Donner decides against partial cred—
A rapid knock in your window pulled your mind from your thoughts but the smile through the glass calmed you instantly.
“Hey sweetheart, let me in will ya? ‘S freezing out here.” You stood in front of him and pretended to contemplate it for a second, but how could you not give in to that face? It took two big pushes since the ice practically sealed it shut but as soon as there was enough space for him to get through, he ducked under and took your face in both hands. “Mornin’ sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips and you pulled back, taking him with you since the open window was bringing in all the cold. He slid it shut and locked it then shot you a concerned look.
“Morning? Ed, it’s like 10 o’clock.”
“Baby it's 3:30, why're you still up?" He tossed himself onto your bed, still made from that morning.
"I was just–" you vaguely gestured to your desk, littered with papers. "Doesn't matter, why are you still up? Shouldn't you be home?"
"Wow, that's one way to treat a guest.”
“No–I just mean how did you get here. If it is 3, which I doubt, what are you doing here.”
"Well first of all," he picked up your alarm clock and shook it at you as much as he could with it still attached to the wall, the flashing 3:47 taunting you. "And second, I was coming home from the hideout and thought I'd take a shortcut. Then I saw your light was still on." and I was worried about you.
"Edda," it started as a joke, he always joked with you about how many times you'd call him over then immediately forget what you were going to say, so it always ended up 'Ed-uhhh' Sweetheart, you call me that so much it might as well be my name. "We're nowhere near the hideout."
"I know but I wanted to check up on you. What are you doing up?"
Your essay, fuck– your essay. "Uh, nothing, don't– don't worry about it, I'm fine. Just some school work." You rushed to sit back at your desk and started rereading to where you left off. "Don't uh– You can stay just..." you trailed off and started scribbling again. The final draft was due tomorrow and you've never turned in anything less than an 85, but that was a one off circumstance. You still had 4 hours to get it done, so close to the finish line, just this one transition sentence needs to start cooperating. If only you'd stop procrastinating... well can it really be procrastinating if it's your math set and your science lab, all due the day after but you hardly have any time at all tomorrow and, and, and...
"—Hey, you still in there, baby?" You blinked as you came back to yourself. "Hey, sweetheart." Eddie was crouched next to your seat, a hand on the back of your chair and one over your knee. He must have taken his jacket and boots off while you weren't paying attention.
"Sor–sorry, I'll uh..." you turned back to the page and reached for your pen but he reached across you for your hand before you could.
He shook his head and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand. "C'mon," he nodded back towards your bed, "let's take a break and come back to this when we're ready."
"But it's–"
"I know what it is, and I know it's great, and I know we're gonna talk to Kelley tomorrow and figure it out." He stood up now, but leaning over you now. "Yeah?"
"Ok, but–"
"Enough with the buts, no buts. Except yours, in that bed." He smiled on one side at his own lame joke.
"That was so bad." He smiled even bigger when you stood up and let him put his arms around your waist.
"Mmm, but you love it."
"I'm not sure about that, but I love you so that'll just have to suffice."
"Suffice, it does. Your bed, m'lady."
"Thank you, kind sir." He pulled the covers down for you and gave you a look when you didn't get in. "Stay over?"
"Your dad'll kill me."
"So? You're like a cat, you've got 9 lives."
"A cat? How?"
"You're very cat like. A lil stray," you pouted and slid your hand down a curl framing his face, then lightly tugged the end. "My lil stray."
That didn't seem to convince him any further, "Stay, we have warm milk? Please?"
"Quit it with the cat jokes and I will."
"Yay!"
He slid in behind you and nudged your shoulder with his cold nose then a warm kiss. You laid in silence for a few minutes, he stopped his restless movements and when you were certain he was asleep, "meow."
He was not asleep and the way he said your name sounded like a threat to leave he'd never make good on.
"Shhh, shhh, sorry, sorry," you giggled and he laid back down beside you.
"Good night," he said with joking firmness.
"Goodnight....my kitten."
And he purred, this boy purred, freakishly realistic too.
He felt your laugh more than he heard it with the way you were pressed up against him.
#della celebrates 100#dell's fics#kay💙#dell's moots#eddie blurb#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie x you#stranger things fluff
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Meetings and Greetings (Jonathan Levy x f!reader) - Part 2
Part 1
Summary: Dr. Ricci was gone... Well, so it wouldn’t be a problem to travel with Jonathan, right?
Word count: 3.07k
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, consumption of legal drugs and a slight mention of Asian religions. This is just an excuse to write smut, maybe, I’ve been pining for Jonathan recently.
Author’s Note: Eh. I have mixed feelings for Jonathan but personally he had so much to be explored, right? This story can be interpreted as you like, but if you ask me, I'll say he's not a very nice guy.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤
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You didn’t search for him and he didn’t search for you. The next day and the next month, every interaction you could ever have came to nothing. Zero on a scale of one to ten.
The reasons could be different, of course, but trying to understand what was going on in his head would be foolish, so you have limited any assumption to your certainties; one of them was, of course, that he didn't see you the way you saw him. It's okay, isn't it? You two had had a few drinks, these things could happen.
But perhaps the reason Jonathan was a constant in your thoughts was the fact that that look didn't seem false, nor did his intentions. He certainly gave up halfway through, which was worse, but you took comfort in the fact that at least for a moment it was real and he did something about it, even if he regretted it.
You would exchange glances in the hallways or during meetings, but he was always the first to break eye contact, running a hand through his beard as if something was bothering him. At other times, like elevator meetings, he would just keep looking straight ahead, never at you and never with the intention of starting a conversation. This was the way things were once again: unusual, uncertain, and unknown.
Anyway, you've redirected your attention to your work. There was a huge funding opportunity for a research you were working on, and with the right incentive, you were one step away from getting a seat at an event in Tampa to meet potential investors. The idea pleased his supervisor, which also helped a lot, so it would only be a matter of time before the 'yes' came.
“Come in!”
You decided to work a few extras for that possibility, so on a Friday, almost night, you weren’t expecting visits in your office - at least not from students or any other teacher who usually stayed so late in the university. It was a kind of demand limited to very unique colleagues like Dr. Lincoln, but it was also unlikely that she would step out of her duties for a conversation.
What was most surprising, however, was that you looked up and saw Jonathan standing in the doorway with both hands in his pockets. You stared at him silently, just… waiting for the man to say something, but he stood quiet for as long as his mind allowed him to formulate a phrase.
“... I’ve heard you’re going to Florida.”
Oh. That.
“Who told you?” You just needed a shrug of his shoulder to get the memo. You sighed at the realization. “Well, I’m not sure if it’ll happen yet. There’s a few things to decide.”
“I thought maybe we could talk... about the trip, of course.”
“What about it?” Your attention was already back on the papers in front of you.
“If I'm right, you're going with two other professors, aren't you?”
“Yes.” You made a line on the sheet. The student confused Confucianism with Shintoism.
“One of them won't be able to go anymore.”
“Dr. Ricci, I know. Looks like his wife just had the baby.” A check sign. The same student knew who Confucius was.
“So you know I'm going to replace him.”
Your hand movements stopped abruptly, as did your reading of ‘contemporary Asian mythology’, and for a moment the pen hovered over the paper as you processed the information with brief blinks. When you looked up, Jonathan was staring at you curiously, standing practically in the middle of the room and waiting for a reaction.
“... Nice.”
“Don’t do that.” He was so certain about his words, holding a stern expression on his face and practically scolding you.
“Do what?”
“I need to know if this situation is uncomfortable for you. Pretending doesn't help at all.”
“And why do you think I would be bothered by your presence on the trip?” The worst part was how the two of you were keeping a reserved tone of voice, almost like you were talking about the weather or something. Well, coming to think of it, maybe the fact that he opened and closed his mouth without any answer to your question was the worst part.
Abandoning the pen and the tests was a matter of respect for the students. You certainly couldn't do anything with the gigantic white elephant in the room and that frustrated you a little, making you rub your eyes and sigh.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Your confession was blunt.
“Don't you think we should?”
“Of course, but I don't think I'm the one who needs to take the first step here, Jonathan.” He looked at you with a serious face. “Like… Yeah, I’m angry. I’m hurted, to be really honest. There's the possibility that I understand that we could both have made a mistake, still that doesn't stop me from being sad about the way you handled the situation.”
Jonathan kept watching your face with curiosity, as if taking in your mannerisms and small reactions while speaking. Analyzing, probably, or calmly absorbing your words.
“I didn't say anything because I thought I crossed a line with you, as a friend and as a man as well. Honestly, I don't know if apologizing will be enough to fix what I've done, especially in the last month, but if it's enough for everything to be okay between us, I’m really sorry.”
“You didn't cross a line if I reciprocated.”
“We can agree that you had been drinking.”
“No amount of drink in the world would make me forget what happened, Jonathan.” Again, more silence, but this time you felt a heat burning your lungs and throat. God, why is he hiding a smile like that? “What I mean is that you wouldn't do this if I was drunk.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Then we can agree.”
“And I didn't forget either. I assume there were attempts, but... Certain things are inevitable.”
Back when you were just colleagues, you never got to see what a flirty version of Jonathan looked like. He didn't do that to you or anyone around you both, so any possibility was down to your imagination. Looking at him in that instant, without the weight of tension on his shoulders and looking at all your visible parts, you thought this was going to be a flirtation. Subtle and tentative, of course, but present.
“I'll see you on the trip then?” The change of subject didn't make him lose face, but he nodded.
“Tampa City.”
He didn’t wish you a ‘goodnight’, nor extended his visit for too long. After the door was closed behind him, though, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a few seconds - it would be something else you should forget about.
-----------------------------
Jonathan stayed away the entire trip, more out of respect than pride or anything. You got it. That conversation in the office wasn't about going back to what it was before, after all, and none of it was any kind of reconciliation.
Still, when you returned to the hotel on the last day with a big smile on your face and great news about the research investor, he waited for the other professors to offer their congratulations so he could speak last.
“That’s really great.”
Probably the hug was what broke some barrier present there, and for a few moments, you allowed yourself to feel everything that was happening. His scent, the softness of his blue shirt in the palms of your hands, the warmth of his body so close to yours, his fingers subtly squeezing your shoulders and back. It was like a small commendation for your efforts, something you wouldn't let affect you or give in to whatever affectionate feelings you still felt for him, despite everything.
“Do you already know how you will celebrate?” He left you before asking, hands brushing your arms for a beat before letting them go too.
“I think I'll wait to get home. Get drunk, wear the nice clothes that are in my closet, maybe take a chance on high heels. I don't think it's wise to do that in an unknown city.”
“Smart of you. No doubt they loved your work.”
And for a moment, at least until the evening of that very day, that was all he said. You had the luxury of using the bathtub in your room and calling your parents to tell them the news firsthand, barely holding back the excitement of the news, as if it was still fresh in your mind. Dinner was a blur, even, and you didn't know if your energy would drop low enough so you could sleep before catching your flight back the next day.
It was then, between looking for a good distraction on the TV and the clock striking almost ten, that someone knocked on your door.
“Jonathan?” The question sounded stupid when you saw him standing in the hallway, but he didn't consider it.
“I know it's late and it might seem a little inappropriate, but I got a bottle of whiskey from some folks at the congress and I thought... I don't know, we could…”
“Celebrate?”
That was a bad idea, you knew it and so did he, but the two of you exchanged the kind of look that made it clear no one cared. Because of that, Jonathan smiled and let out a 'yeah' amid a weak laugh, said bottle already in his hand as if the invitation was a long shot.
“You may come in. I hope you don't mind my pajamas.” Giving him space to enter the room, you realized that an old shirt and sleep shorts weren't quite the best choice for welcoming someone, especially him.
“It's okay, at least you told me about the fate of your good clothes.” The grin on his face made you smile. “So… Where do we start?”
You both shared the bottle of whiskey between small gulps and talked about how all the approaches happened during the week. Being more experienced, he shared advice and tips on what to do, which you gladly listened to until the drinking started to kick in.
He was fine, so were you, but then the conversation started to take a turn and soon the two of you were laughing more than being serious. Sharing more memories of your college days was just a detail, of course, and when Jonathan heard about your extracurricular ballroom dancing classes, he gasped and laughed.
“You need to show me that.”
“Noooooo, it was a long time ago! I don’t even remember the steps.”
“They say these things are like riding a bicycle, don't worry. Now give me this and tell me what song I play.” He took the bottle from your hand and already had his eyes on the phone when you hesitantly stood up in front of the bed.
“Do not laugh at me.”
“I would never think of that.”
In the end, the song was a Brazilian rhythm with no lyrics, which seemed enough to remind you of those times. He was sitting and facing you, waiting, which made you close your eyes to get over the embarrassment of dancing in front of the man.
“One to the right, one to the left…”
Your initial attempts to try to repeat what you had learned were kind of frustrating, so you kind of started improvising the movements of your feet, arms and hips. This caused a silence to settle in the room, leaving only the music and the noise of your body accompanying the rhythm through the small space.
“I can teach you if you want.” You said with a low tone and for a moment he didn't answer. “Jonathan?”
“... Sure.”
It was enough for him to be there, in front of you, putting both hands on your waist for you to realize that maybe you didn't have to be so detailed with teaching, that maybe he already knew a thing or another. You smiled, eyes wide and intent on the way his face lit up in the light of the room.
No one needed to say a word at all. He enveloped you with the movement of his own body, going back and forth with grace, pulling you closer as you placed your hands on his neck and then up to play with his curls at the nape of his neck. It even made him hum, burying his face beside yours and flexing his fingers in the fabric of your shirt. You could smell his scent again, this time with the combination of the softness of his hair on your fingers and his beard discreetly brushing your neck.
There was a possibility he sensed your sudden fear, more out of fear that it was happening and you'd be rejected again, because Jonathan held you there, body to body, strengthening the tension by the way he put his mouth to your ear.
“I wish I had done it right with you,” He whispered. “I haven't gone a day without thinking about how it felt to have kissed you that night, how I wish I had carried on, taken you home... There are so many things I wish I had done.”
“Why then? Why you didn’t?”
“Because I rushed. At that moment, you needed a friend, not what I could have offered you if we had gone ahead.”
You didn’t answer right away, opting to massage his scalp enough to hear him grunting lightly against your skin.
“I don't need a friend right now.”
“Good… Good.”
Nothing happened for seconds. He continued to lead you carefully in a rocking that started to get more sensual and the heat in your belly intensified, thirsting for the moment when someone would finally do something about it. Then he discreetly began to place small, wet kisses on your neck, lifting one hand to cup the back of your head to tilt it just a little to the side. You sighed at the sensation, both bodies still moving while you closed your eyes for a second time to let all the sensations fly through you.
Jonathan nipped at your jaw and teasing his hairy cheek on yours, asking for permission. All you needed to do was turn your head to the side, to let him engulf you with a slow and deliberate kiss, mouth open without a fear to make it deep from the start. At the same time your tongues tangled with each other, that same hand lowered to your neck, then your chest, to stop by your right boob to grab it fiercely.
You moaned loudly against his mouth. God, you’re already so wet so fast, like you’ve been waiting for him.
“So responsive,” he teased after biting your bottom lip. “Show yourself for me, baby. Can I take your shirt off?”
As if he needed to ask, you just tugged at the hem of the thing and simply took it off in one swiftly movement. His eyes stared straight at your boobs, watching your nipples erected by his stimulation and the cool of the room. He looked unresponsive for a good few seconds before waking up to reality, ripping his glasses off his face along with his shirt to reveal his own torso. Heavens, he was beautiful. You could spend hours kissing every inch of your skin.
“Come here.”
The second kiss was more intense, the skin-to-skin contact making your arousal grow more at every new discovery between the make out session. With ease, Jonathan could handle you laying on the bed, him on top, without stopping the feeling of his mouth devouring yours. You pulled and played with his hair while he started to go low, sucking marks, teasing your nipples, biting at the meat of your tit.
That thirst to be with each other, the desire to solve all the pending issues of having the pleasure of sex, prevented that moment from being like 'making love'. Jonathan still devoted himself to worshiping your body as he could, lowering your shorts with care until you’re bare to him, but you knew that the necessity of having him inside of you came both ways.
“Jesus Christ…” His cock entered easily on your pussy, making you clench at first but not as a reaction of discomfort. You couldn’t even catch when he took off his pants, being really honest, because all of the sensations of finally having him filled your mind with lust.
“I’ve been waiting so long… So… So long… For you to take me so well. You wanted me that much? Huh? Wanted me to fuck you?” He asked between painted breaths, the thrusts so strong that the bed started to creak and you almost lost your voice to answer.
“... Yes…”
Jonathan still looked determined to savor the moment and make it unique for the two of you as he gripped your hips and adjusted himself between your legs so that you could look at the way you took his dick. He used the hold to manhandle your body, pulling you close at every slow thrust of his and making you both a mess of whimpers, moans and curses. The only thing you could do was held in the pillows while watching his eyes attentively at your body.
Gradually, the two of you began to feel the effects of the lust and the slap of your skins became more loud - he was staring at your boobs again, this time at the way they shaked at the movements. Whether it was the time without sex or the fact that it was him, it didn't matter - you had to cover your mouth on your arm so your orgasm wouldn't be heard throughout the building.
The thing hitted you so much that you just felt him coming on your belly with a grunt as a lapse and the realization really weighed when he leaned down to hug you, not daring to how degrading your bodies were sweating.
“Would you mind if I celebrated with you when we got back?” The question made you whisper a laugh, hands caressing his back.
“It's convenient for you to ask that after making me come.”
“Should I wait until we repeat that again?”
“Gimme five minutes.”
“I would ask for more if I were you,” He gave your shoulder a big bite. “We have wasted time to make up.”
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- Sunshine - Sunny Side Episode 6
The night before the trip. At the Seisoukan
Tsukasa: Please excuse me! It's Tsukasa Suou from "Knights"! Is Sena-senpai here?
Kuro: You've got a lot of energy even though it's already night.
Sena, you got a visitor.
Izumi: What now, Kasa-kun? This isn't a day-care centre, you know?
Tsukasa: "What now"? Oh...?
Leo: Ooh, it's Suo~! What a coincidence that we meet at a place like this ☆
Tsukasa: Leo-san, I see that you are here as well. This will save more time then.
Leo: Hmm? Do you need something from me?
Tsukasa: Yes. Soー
Leo: Aah, wait! Don't tell me the answer just yet, I'll get paranoid!
You feel like your roommate kicked you out of your room, too? I know, I know. It's hard living together♪
Tsukasa: Umm, no. That's not the case. Leo-san, were you kicked out?
Leo: Yep. I was killing time by composing outside the room when Natsume asked me to go away for a delicate experiment.
And then, I ended up here. It's strange... did he teleport me?
Maybe Natsume used that kind of magic? That guy's like a wizard after all.
Izumi: Of course not. You can't see what's going on around you when you're concentrating, right?
And it seems like that guy couldn't handle you any longer.
Kuro: Just before I entered the room, I saw Tsukinaga absorbed in composing a piece of music.
When Hasumi-danna found out, he gave you a lecture. But it's fine now, he's no longer here.
Leo: Aah, So that's how it was. Keito's sermon was so long it sounded like a symphony~
I get it now! Thanks, Kuro♪
Kuro: Sure. Now that you've got to the bottom of it, why don't you listen to what Suou has to say?
Leo: Ah, right. I forgot about that.
Tsukasa: Please don't just forget about it.
It took longer than expected to produce this item, and it was a bit last minute. Please take a look at this.
Izumi: ..."Travel brochure"?
Tsukasa: [SSF] came up during a "Biblion" activity the other day, and everyone asked me how I would spend my time there and if there were any sights to see.*
But all I could think about was how our Live performance will go, so I had no idea how to answer their question.
Then, Hajime-kun suggested that I should make a "brochure".
Last year, he made a "brochure" with all the information about the destination of their Live performance, and it seemed to have helped everyone in "Ra*bits" a lot.
He also said that it helped them to interact with local customers.
Izumi: Hmm. It's concise and it's easy to read. It's pretty good, overall.
But did you really have to go to the trouble of making that? It would have been better if you could check it on your phone. Like an e-book, you know?
Tsukasa: I didn't really think that... Although it's thin and takes up little space, it's still a bit of luggage.
So, in the meantime, I'm going to create an e-book version. I will share it with everyone in "Hold Hands" when it's done.
Leo: Hey, Suo. What are these blank pages? There are several of them. Is it a printing error?
Tsukasa: It's the Memo section. I've left it open so that Leo-san can compose there whenever he feels like it.
If you were to write down your piece in the local architectures like what you usually do, we'd be kicked out.
Leo: I see! As expected of Suo! You're so clever!
Wahaha! I suddenly got inspired when I looked at the white pages!
I have to write it down before it disappears...☆
Tsukasa: Aah, please don't use the "brochure" just yet! If you're going to compose now, please do it on a different piece of paper!
Izumi: I think I saw a used paper earlier... Ah, here it is. Leo-kun, use this instead.
Tsukasa: Thank you, Sena-senpai. I've made this brochure based on my own preferences, I hope that's fine...
Izumi: It depends. We can't be so sure about this until we visit the site ourselves. And, it's possible that there won't be any inspiration for him at all.
We'll just have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't make a fool of himself.
...Hm? Something's vibrating. Is someone calling?
Tsukasa: It seems Onee-sama's calling me. Please excuse me for a minute.
Hello. Good afternoon, Onee-sama...♪
Izumi: He's talking with that cat-like voice of his, he's so happy to hear her voice. Maybe I should record this and play it for the newcomers.
Kuro: Ahaha. When it comes to Little Miss Anzu, he'll suddenly change into a young boy, just like the way he's supposed to be. She's like a God to him.
...Hm? That Suou, his face is getting all cloudy.
Izumi: He looks so obviously depressed. What are they talking about?
Tsukasa: Yes... yes. Please excuse me. Goodnight, Onee-sama.
……
Izumi: Ah, he's back.
What's wrong, Kasa-kun? Did you get scolded by that "Onee-sama" of yours?
Tsukasa: About that... As you know, Sena-senpai, Onee-sama was supposed to accompany us in this trip.
But she said that she'll miss the other days except the last day of the event because she has to attend to some other business.
This is the worst. I was thinking of places that I was supposed to take her when we're there...
Izumi: You've got bigger priorities than "Knights"? You're a bit cheeky for that Anzu, aren't you?
But, well, it can't be helped. That person's really busy, you know.
Tsukasa: I know. That's why I wanted her to rest her feathers far away from ES.
But you're right, we don't have a choice, and we're not babies who need to be taken care of.
And it is only because she really trusts us that she has decided that we don't need her to accompany us...
For the sake of our beloved Anzu-oneesama, let's try not to cause Trouble.
< EPISODE 6 END >
Notes:
1. Biblion is a circle that gathers out of love for books of all genres. While they primarily gather in the library, they sometimes read outside when the weather is nice. [source]
==========
Story: "Summer Breeze!" [Sunshine Shimmering in a Foreign Land]
Story by: ゆーます
Collaborator: 日日日
Season: Summer
Characters in this Episode: Tsukasa, Leo, Izumi, Kuro, Anzu
Reminder: I did not create this story, but I translated it, so please refrain from reposting my translation on other social media platforms.
I apologize if there are any mistakes as well.
(Prev - All - Next) Thank you for reading!
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Find the Word Tag
I was tagged twice - thanks!
My words are (from @darthenra) spirit, journey, sleep, and mirror, and (from @words-after-midnight) damage/damaged, darling, ball, even, annoy/annoying, kiss
Spirit (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 15):
Master Aaren spoke. “Welcome guests, students, all. In this season of harvest, we open the doors of our larder to the community of Brightfield, to share in our plenty, and give thanks to Maelennig.”
Not the whole community of Brightfield, Sitora thought, somewhat sourly, noting the distinct lack of representatives from her district.
“As we come to this point of rest between solstices, we honour the spirit of collaboration…”
Journey (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 3):
“In this class, we will spend the semester reading and studying some of those performers who have tapped their tune the loudest. Those who have made a lifelong journey of discovering and recording the history of societies, or gotten close to understanding the Gods. Remember, as we study, that these beats build on the beats of others, that no one rhythm stands alone."
Sleep (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 11):
As soon as she had left Master Barleyvale’s classroom, Sitora had run all the way back to her room. Running felt good, it felt like a problem was being solved, even if it wasn’t. Even if the only thing you were doing was putting space in between you and your problems, the pump of muscles and acceleration of the world beyond you was restorative. She arrived in her dorm panting, then spent the night attempting to sleep, but ending up either staring at the ceiling or shivering with either chill or adrenaline.
Mirror (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 21):
He was inside, atop his overturned desk, still wearing the black cloak, surrounded by scattered papers and spilled potion ingredients. The mirror on the wall was swung wide open, casting the red glow of the concealment runes into the room.
Damage (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 13):
Master Vatris looked a little taken aback at the question, but then his expression regained its usual lofty sneer. “I don’t enjoy when students endanger others, and damage the building with their injudicious use of weapons,” he said, “but…I do enjoy it here, yes.” The side of his mouth twitched into a small smile, and his focus drifted into the middle distance over Sitora’s left shoulder. “In fact, it has been the greatest honour of my life to teach here.”
Darling (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 18):
Just as the elf seemed like he was going to say something, Sitora interjected, placing a palm on Lance’s elbow where it still held hers. “Aren’t you forgetting why we’re here, darling?”
Lance gave her such a drawn-out blank look that she briefly worried he had actually forgotten why they were there, as well as their ruse of pretending to be a couple. Then his face snapped into a smile. “Of course, dear.”
Ball (Chrissie's of London):
I rush inside to find a suitable cloth to turn into bandages, as well as a bottle of blended Scotch. Well, I'm not wasting the single malt on a bullet wound. When I return, Jacques has his mouth to his palm, and I watch as he rips the metal ball from his skin with his teeth. He looks me in the eye as he spits the bullet out, jowls wet with blood. Russet strands of hair fall in front of his eyes.
"Jesus, Jacqui."
Even (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 1):
Sitora decided on the greatsword. When she took it from the rack and held it with the point on the ground, the hilt was level with her chin. Even without lifting it, she felt her stance change, squaring her shoulders and rooting her heels into the ground.
Annoy/annoying/annoyed (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 13):
Sometimes the scrutiny she faced from the Masters annoyed her. Did they all get a memo before she started to make her feel singular? Her unusual form of payment, her weekend job - couldn’t these things just be left outside the gates of the Garrison where they belonged?
Kiss (The Adventures of Sitora Lux, Chapter 4):
As though in sync, Trix slid onto Sitora’s lap and Sitora’s hands found her hips, before moving fluidly to the small of her back and pulling her closer. A breathy gasp escaped Trix’s mouth, and Sitora was struck by the vulnerability of it; the closeness and the almost tender way Trix cupped her hands around Sitora’s jaw to kiss her yet more insistently.
ooh that last one was evil ;3
I'm going to welcome @bethtriestowrite! She is new, go give her a follow! Also, @oliviasbookshelf, @ryns-ramblings, @frankensteinshimbo
Your words are: jaw, weekend, level, ruse, injudicious (idk I just want to see if anyone else has ever used this word!), pump, tune
#tag game#the adventures of sitora lux#a man lives rent free in my head and he is called silas chrissie
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Re-reading, or rather re-listening-to, Pathfinder. I must say it's difficult to get used to the new narrator Nicola Barber. Maybe it's just because I'm used to hearing him, but it feels like Doyle understood the character he was voicing in a way that Barber doesn't.
I do get why they changed narrator, the TodHunter Moon trilogy has a female lead, and is mostly written from her perspective, it makes sense to have woman narrate it, but something about Barber's narration in particular just seems off.
For one thing, I'm not sure why she gave all the Pathfinder's Scottish accents, it kind of works, but it isn't quite what I imagined.
Like with Doyle before her, she forgets that the Castle is meant to be in Cornwall, and voices every Castle inhabitant in BBC English. It seems that only Corduner got that memo
A far worse accent-based offense is what she does to Snorri's voice, it seems like all she did before coming up with the voice is find out that she's a Northern Trader, figured that Northern referred to the north of England, and turned everyone's favourite Viking-coded trader into someone from Lancashire.
Also, she makes all of the Heap boys sound the same, which is kind of awkward when there are multiple of them in the same room.
She isn't all bad though
Beetle seem to finally have shifted the sore-throat he's had since Flyte.
Marcia has calmed down a bit
Dandra Draa's voice no longer sounds slightly racist, which is good as Dandra has a far bigger role in this series
These are just my thoughts on the new narration, and - for all my criticism of her - I do appreciate that Barber's narration is still very good, and far better than anything I could do. Does anyone else who listens to the audiobooks have any thoughts?
#septimus heap#audiobooks#narration#pathfinder#angie sage#Nicola Barber#Gerard Doyle#allan corduner#also is anyone else annoyed that StarChaser isn't on Audilble#I do realise that listeners from outside the UK probably don't notice the accent stuff
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