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#-> my brain exercise... why is it so big. man.

foxconfessorandthewolf · 3 days

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Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

#snarry #i need them to hatefuck it out #i need snape to be cracked open and see all the tender parts fall out

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jyoongim · 2 months

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I was just thinking like..alastor in his nun outfit…Charlie takes us to confession for like an admitting our sins exercise (but it’s actually just in the hotel) to confess our sins, we admit to fantasising about Alastor and we reveal our dirty fantasies and he hears it..maybe decides to act on it to cleanse us of our sins….IDKKK

FORGIVE ME DADDY FOR I HAVE SINNED

(Love your writing btw)

I LOVE YOU!!!! Thank you for reading my horny writings babe!!!

Title: Sweet Confession

”uuuuhhhh Charlie why do we have to confess our sins? Ain’t that a little personal?” Angel asked as she finished explaining her new ‘bonding’ exercise.

The princess beamed “That’s the whole point! To acknowledge your wrong doings and knowing that you can be vulnerable with the sins you’ve committed”

The group groaned but went on with it.

She had a curtain set up to give privacy and a chair to sit and you just spilled out your darkest secrets to a box?

it wasn’t her worst idea. Being vulnerable was good…so what was the harm?

You fiddled with your fingers as you took a seat.

This reminded you of when your mother would force to to church and seek advice from a priest about your woes. You never really understood the point.

You hadn’t committed the most elaborate sin, but you weren’t a pure sinner either.

“Remember take all the time you need! Crying is good!” You heard Charlie say as she closed the curtain, leaving you to yourself.

”what are you here to confess?” A automatic voice said from the box.

What could you confess? Your sin was boring…

”I-I have been pledged with rather lewd thoughts” you said shyly.

”I know it sounds crazy but I…I think about Alastor in these thoughts”

’Why?’ The voice responded.

You bit your lip “I don’t know. He’s witty, confident, rough around the edges. He’s always around and so helpful. I kind of feel bad now” your shoulders wilted.

”He’s just my kind of guy I guess. Tall, Dark, oh so handsome my gooooodddd” you gushed.

”and how do you think of him in these thoughts of yours?”

You gulped “He’s just so polite and a gentleman that it just does something to me. Under all that, he’s a demon. Its hot and mysterious and I just want him to fuck my brains out…not literally…well the fuck part literally but not til I’m dead”

”I want him. Like carnally. I knooooow I can be a good girl for him. I would let that man do anything to me. I want to give my utter and complete devotion to him as he ruins me. I want him to like its a need to breathe. He lives in my head rent free!” You whined.

”I don’t go a single night without touching myself to his voice. Its like velvet. I imagine how he would growl in my ear as he watch me tease myself. Pouring out praise and degrading words as I whine for his dick…oooohhh his dick I know its big I just know it. I need him inside me. To fill me with his cum. To carve my pussy to his shape and make me lose my mind. I think about being his willingly. I don’t need a deal to give him my soul” you trailed off. You hadn’t realized you were ranting. The very confession had your face flushed, thighs clenching at the thought of your fantasy coming true.

You laughed, shaking our head “I guess that’s a sin? Having lustful thoughts about some one? I didn’t really think anything of it but it felt good to admit that to something. people would think I’m crazy…fantasizing about the Radio Demon knocking the coins out of me hahaha”

You took a deep breathe and emerged from the curtain, feeling a bit better for confessing your darkest desires.

Alastor had a wide Cheshire smile on his face. Listening to the hotel’s residents secrets and woes gave him a sense of entertainment.

Your confession about the red demon was very interesting.

Alastor’s mind had formed a very detailed picture of your confession.

You, doe-eyed and wanton as you whined for his cock. He would make you beg him to fuck you. To ruin you.

You shaking from overstimulation and covered in his cum flashed in his mind.

He chuckled darkly at the thought, Oh what a pretty pet you will make.

And who would he be if he didn’t make you sweet little fantasy a reality?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

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happypuffy · 2 months

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THE ART OF LOVING

For many years I have been on the quest for a piece of literature that would describe love to me. and as a lover of love I can finally say that I have found the closest description of love while relating it to important themes that evoke critical thinking. At first, I had a fair anxiety about finding this book to be nothing but a cliché self-help book that has a rather repetitive fashion and does not present new ideas to the question of "What essentially is love, and how can it be practiced?"

Erich Fromm succeeded in opening my mind up to the importance and the indispensability of self-discipline, of facing the harsh reality of things, and the way present socio-economic structures have affected our views on relationships. He proceeds to define the current human experience as an alienation of Man from his true essence; prioritizing pleasure that not only does not fulfill Man but empties him and leaves him shallow. On page 68, he states "Man's happiness today consists of 'having fun'. Having fun lies in the satisfaction of consuming and 'taking in' commodities, sights, food, drinks, cigarettes, people, lectures, books, movies - all are consumed, swallowed. The world is one great object for our appetite, a big apple, a big bottle, a big breast; we are the sucklers, the eternally expectant ones, the hopeful ones - and the eternally disappointed ones." We can sense bits of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World in that quote as it can be correlated to how society, especially consumer culture, has allowed us to take in pleasures in life that aren’t that essential to our 'raison d'être' or meaning to life. Everything has become so accessible, it has been taken for granted. Additionally, capitalist society has turned love into a profitable project rather than a fundamental human and universal experience that needn’t be marketed.

The author has also debunked many myths about what a successful marriage can be based on and what it can consist of. "One of the most significant expressions of love, and especially of marriage with this alienated structure, is the idea of the 'team'," he writes. Marriage is an institution that has recently fallen victim to doubt and questioning by society. Is marriage the legitimate manifestation of love? Is it the last reachable goal in people's relationships? Why is it unsuccessful then? Questions with possible answers that Fromm has explored in his 3rd chapter (Love and Its Disintegration in Contemporary Western Society).

Furthermore, the discussion gets stretched to a very interesting and rather crucial point of any conversation or analysis; God's place within the topic of love. In the chapter 'The Theory of Love', Erich Fromm goes into all possible kinds of love, and the part called 'Love of God' is the most intriguing. The author writes about the religious and spiritual aspects of the phenomenon of love. Summoning Taoism, Man's relation to God, and so on. "Thus paradoxical logic leads to the conclusion that the love of God is neither the knowledge of God in thought, nor the thought of one's love of God, but the act of experiencing the oneness with God."

Overall, 'The Art of Loving' has imprinted its ideas and sentences in my brain like tattoos. It gave me incitement to take control over my life and my relationships; to exercise love in its purest form and wish nothing in return, and to practice the art of living as well as the art of loving.

#erich fromm #poem #poetry #quotes #writing #feeling #passionate #romantic #books #couple goals #books & libraries #book quotes

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venusiangguk · 2 years

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the art of yearning | jjk (m)

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

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 15.7k

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, taekook heart to heart, a lot of self-directed negative thoughts from nari’s father </3, jaykay being a dumb man 😕, jaykay needing everything spelled out for him 🙄, tae to the rescue <3, hobi for comedic relief bc jfc 😭 the YEARNING, guilty jerk sesh lets goooo, lots of memories n fantasies <3, omg slight hinting at jk’s subby era!!, 1 finish followed by many regrets n thoughts ~~

>>notes: part 1 of 2 <3 this part is the post-fight happenings from jk’s pov! i split it up bc as we can see it’s already quite long 🥲 pls dont be mad at me <3 i hope u guys are able to understand jk’s reasoning n thought process a lil more after this !!

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

>>summary: jungkook wants you as much as he misses you.

It’s a bit colder than the last time he was here. The air a bit chillier, the wind a little sharper. It’s admittedly been a while. A month, maybe a touch less. Jeongguk hasn’t really been keeping track.

Circumstances, like the weather, differ from the last time he was here as well.

It shouldn’t still feel like it’s as big of a deal as it does. It shouldn’t still be pressing so heavy on him, and it definitely shouldn’t cross his mind as often as it does when he deliberately does his best not to think about it. About you.

You said you would think about things, but Jeongguk never said the same. So he truly does not understand why he just cannot keep you out of his head.

When it’s his week with Nari, it’s not as bad– the thought of you isn’t so nonstop. Her terrible two’s, which really aren’t that terrible, keep him busy.

Constantly trying to keep up with her, or running around his home trying to find that damn narwhal that she always seems to misplace, even though he feels like she always has it in her tiny hands. She’s taken it with her everywhere since you got it for her. And there you are again. On his mind, clouding his thoughts.

Constantly redoing her pigtails that she yanks out. It’s a new, maybe slightly terrible, habit that she’s picked up. And they’re still always lopsided despite the numerous times you tried to show him how to make them symmetrical. You said something about tugging gently on the tiny sprouts until they were where he wanted them so– There he goes.

Constantly closing and reclosing the baby gate she’s learned to open in the gym whenever he tries to clear his head by getting a workout in. Exercising does help a small amount when he’s not interrupted by his daughter. And when he doesn’t think about how the smudged handprints on the mirror got there. The ones that he has still yet to clean. Those instances are a bit gross but they aren’t exactly his fault. He doesn’t actively think about you then; he’s reminded.

A lot of things seem to remind him of you.

Work also keeps him occupied for the most part. Until it doesn’t.

Visions of you on your front, against his desk, with your hands cuffed behind your back, interrupt him during his video conferences. The metal part of his chair has scratches on it from where the same cuffs rubbed against it, metal on metal, as he struggled against their hold with you on top of him– his suits get caught on the ridges, the material getting snagged on the raised, uneven metal. Just like you get caught on the ridges of his brain, the memory of you getting snagged on his conscience.

Jeongguk feels so guilty when he lets his mind wander to you like that.

But that’s not even the worst of it. It’s even harder when Nari is at Dasom’s.

That’s when it really hits him– how intertwined you had become in his life.

You’re not there anymore, but you’re still everywhere.

You’re in the kitchen when he wakes up to make his morning coffee. In his shirt with sleepy eyes and a hopeless smile on your face as you laugh embarrassed. Telling him in your slightly scratchy morning voice that you had wanted to surprise him with his americano, but you couldn’t figure out the ‘fancy, high-tech’ coffee machine.

He can’t even remember how many times he showed you how to work it. You were able to figure out the blender eventually, but the Jura he splurged on seemed to have been a lost cause.

You’re in his closet when he picks out his clothes; you’re picking out some of his to wear as your own, too. You’re in the articles of clothing you left behind, still taking up space in his dresser just as much as you’re still taking up space in his mind.

You’re on the couch with him when he settles down after work, fidgeting because you were never able to sit still for very long. Going back and forth between having your feet tucked underneath you, and outstretched on the recliner. Between having your head in your hand, and in his lap.

Jeongguk will say that he’s able to get through a series, a movie, a documentary– much faster, and he’s able to remember the premise a lot better now that he doesn’t have you constantly asking him questions about the plot. Questions you would have found the answer to eventually if you would have just watched. An annoying, yet cute and endearing tendency of yours that he misses more than he thought he would and more than he probably should.

You’re in the garden too. In the flowers, the colors of the petals match the color of your nails that week. You’re in the grass, resting atop a blanket, head pillowed on your arms, just watching him as he tends to the weeds. You’re in the sun that beats down on his back because it feels warm, exactly like you did.

A brisk breeze blows Jeongguk out of his thoughts and back to the present. He’s met with the familiar door in front of him. He’s apprehensive as he brings his hand up to knock.

It opens before he even gets a chance to rap his knuckles against the wood, and he’s face to face with an overly excited, loud person.

“Hello, my good…” Hoseok’s bright smile drops and his brows pinch in confusion, “singular bitch?” His tone is puzzled as he looks at Jeongguk and then over his shoulder like he’s searching for someone. “Where’s __?”

Jeongguk sighs quietly, knowing that the questions were inevitably going to come. He RSVP’d you coming with him to Friendsgiving a bit prematurely, even before he asked you, just figuring it would be a given that you would agree and want to join. You were supposed to go with him and–

He feels a teeny, tiny hand squeeze at his pinky, trying to get his attention. Nari’s eyes are big and round as she looks up at him. Her orange, leaf-shaped hair bow is about to fall out as she babbles a mostly decipherable version of your name, and Jeongguk’s heart chips a little in his chest. Her speech is getting better every day, even if she still babbles in broken phrases. Even if a lot of her words are still hard to pick up on and talking is her last resort. After you left, your name became one of the few words she could say clearly.

He gives her a gentle, sad smile and shakes his head softly. “Not today, boba.”

Nari seems mostly unbothered, used to that answer by now, her attention going to the rings on her dad’s fingers. She doesn’t ask about you as much anymore. Only when she’s reminded of you, like just now when Hoseok said your name or that time Jeongguk caved and looked through his photos with her tucked into his side while he thought she was preoccupied with her show on the tv. Maybe you’re starting to fade away in her little baby brain.

Jeongguk’s attention goes back to his friend, who is standing with a tense smile on his face. “Thanks for that,” he says with a pointed look, walking through the threshold with full hands.

Hoseok throws his palms up. “Well how was I supposed to know you and __,” he mouths your name silently, “broke up? You don’t ever even reply to the groupchat anymore.”

“That is because I have the groupchat muted. Also, we didn’t break up. We were never together,” Jeongguk says matter-of-factly, plucking the bow from Nari’s hair and trying to fix it and put it back in with one hand. He taps the little, lop-sided sprout and says, “Go on, say ‘hi’ to Uncle Hobi.”

Nari smiles, the tulle bottom of her poofy dress bouncing, her teeny mary janes clicking with each step as she toddles over to her uncle. She extends her pudgy arms, one of her hands holding her narwhal.

Hoseok crouches, picking up the baby. “Oh my goodness! Look at all those 2-year-old teeth!” His eyes drop to the plush she’s holding by the horn, “And what is th-”

Jeongguk interrupts him, shaking his head and making a loud, scolding, AH sound. And when their eyes meet, Hoseok’s are wide and confused, and Jeongguk’s are trying to convey ‘do not’.

“Okay!” Hoseok carries on swiftly, the same stiff smile still on his face, “Let’s get Daddy to drop off that pie he’s holding, and then you can go see all your cousins and aunties and other less important uncles, hmm?” he coos to Nari, turning to walk towards Namjoon’s kitchen.

“Jes!” she spouts, nodding in a rather professional manner like the plan is exactly perfect and like they should get right to business. She points towards where she knows the kitchen is with 3 of her baby fingers.

Jeongguk follows suit smiling softly at his daughter while he simultaneously readies himself to face the onslaught of questions. The ones about where you are, what happened, and who did what. Whose fault it is. If he’s reached out; if you have. If he regrets it; if he misses you. The sooner he gets that over with, the sooner he can have a glass of wine. Or two.

Hoseok has other plans, sitting Nari’s butt on the marble countertop, next to the pie that Jeongguk sets down. When Jeongguk looks at him ready to take their leave, Hoseok is looking at the dessert.

“What the hell is that, JK?”

Jeongguk’s mouth drops open, before he sniffs, offended. “I made it from scratch and I worked very hard on it and you’re very rude.” He glances at the pie that’s under scrutiny, and will admit (to himself) that it’s not particularly… pretty. But it’s still edible. Probably.

His friend makes a disgusted face that he doesn’t even try to hide. “Why didn’t you just buy one like we normally do?”

The whole group rotates what they bring every year, and yes, everyone aside from Yoongi and Taehyung’s wife all provided a store-bought pie when it was their turn. Jeongguk shrugs.

“You can grill. You can’t bake. You know this,” Hoseok reminds.

When Jeongguk just stays quiet, Hoseok groans, rolling his eyes. Nari mimes him like a little parrot, her groan tinted with laughter like she thinks she’s the funniest thing in the world. Jeongguk agrees.

“Don’t tell me–” Hoseok starts.

“I just didn’t want to go to the grocery store,” Jeongguk interrupts, his voice huffy, even though he tries to sound nonchalant. Like it was completely normal for him to avoid the grocery store he’s been going to regularly for years.

“Jeongguk,” the elder gripes, “what the fuck is going on?”

Hoseok whispers the swear word as if that will prevent Nari from hearing it when she’s sat right in front of him and Jeongguk scowls, grabbing his toddler. He’s turning to walk away and talking over his shoulder. “She can still hear it even if you whisper it.”

Quick footsteps catch up to Jeongguk before they fall into step with him. “Have you just been eating takeaway for–” Hoseok pauses, “however long it’s been? Don’t you care about your spawn’s health?”

“Don’t call her that and of course, I haven’t,” Jeongguk replies, disgruntled. “I’ve been getting groceries delivered… Yoongi left us some food a couple of times too.”

“Thank god for Yoongi,” Hoseok says with a roll of his eyes. “Have you been getting them from that place with the ridiculous delivery fee?”

Jeongguk stays silent once again, adjusting Nari on his hip. Only a couple more feet until they reach the backyard and he can be free from Hoseok’s pestering.

“You know just because you have a lot of money and can spend it on stupid things, doesn’t mean you should,” Hoseok says in a rather bored tone before adding, “Also you could have literally gotten a pie delivered.”

Jeongguk pauses when they reach the sliding glass door, turning to look at the other. “First of all I tried, they’ve been sold out since Tuesday. Second of all, can we please just drop it? At least for right now?” he asks, a bit quieter. “I’ll tell you later, I just–” He tapers off at the end, his lips pursing.

Hoseok softens, as he reads Jeongguk. He notes how tired he looks, his eyes dark underneath. The kind of sad twinge the younger’s voice has taken. How his shoulders sag a bit like something’s been weighing him down. And then Hoseok simply gives a nod and a small, slightly apologetic smile.

His hand comes to Jeongguk’s shoulder and he squeezes a few times, hoping the gesture comes off reassuring. “You know I’m just messing with you. And that I only ask because I care. Tell us when you want.”

It’s then that Jeongguk’s reminded why they all have been friends for so long, and why he’s so grateful for them.

Although he’s had the groupchat muted, he’s glanced at it. He saw everyone still including him in the conversations even though he never replied.

Saw the individual texts from them too.

Jimin’s telling him that Solmi misses Nari and that they should have a playdate. Volunteering to host said playdate, to watch the girls for a little while, to let Jeongguk have a break if he needs it.

The ‘just checking in on you’ texts from Joon. Simple yet heartfelt messages that were a little too soft to read without his eyes stinging.

The offers from Jin and Hoseok to be his workout partners– the ones given despite the fact that everyone knows the older two have done their best to avoid joining Jeongguk at the gym since he picked up his relatively new and exceedingly intense boxing workouts.

Yoongi’s straightforward messages. Merely short notes; just quiet reminders that told Jeongguk a lot more than to remember to bring in the food Yoongi left by the door, to be quick so the bugs don’t get to it. I’ll take care of you, but remember to take care of yourself too.

Taehyung’s ‘wyd’ texts, followed by a game invite on the Xbox that Jeongguk’s been playing more often than he’d liked to admit. He never pushed when Jeongguk declined, even though he could see him online.

Hoseok opens the sliding glass door for them, and everyone’s heads turn to look. And it would be funny, the way that everyone’s smiles turn a little confused. If said smiles didn’t precede inquiries.

“Where’s __?”

Jeongguk loves his friends, but it’s going to be a long night.

~~~

The fancy outdoor patio lamps on Namjoon’s deck double as heaters and keep Jeongguk from shivering in the late autumn air as he sips that glass of wine he promised himself. A red that’s a hint more bitter than what he usually likes, but it seems fitting.

Maybe he’s a bit dramatic. And maybe he’s wallowing.

But he blames it on the alcohol. Doesn’t acknowledge that he’s been down, off, for a while. About a month, maybe a touch less.

He moves his gaze from the red he’s absently swirling in his glass to the house, peering in from the outside. Sees all the kids playing in the living room, some of the adults on the couch by the fire, some in the kitchen still picking at the leftovers that Namjoon’s fiancée is trying to put away. That’s a recent development that came as no surprise, and Jeongguk’s happy for Namjoon and Hyesoo, but he wishes he could be happier.

One of Taehyung’s twins has Nari on their back, her hands gripping tightly in the floppy mop of hair on the boy's head. Jeongguk smiles softly to himself when he sees her mouth open and her eyes turn into tiny, little half-moons as she laughs. He closes his own briefly, tries to hear her baby giggles in his head. When he opens them again, his view is cut off by the twins’ dad.

The bottle in Taehyung’s hand is full and the same kind that’s in the glass Jeongguk’s been nursing. He's holding another for himself as well. He stays quiet for a while as he stands behind the seat across from Jeongguk.

“We’re gonna pull names for Secret Santa soon,” Taehyung eventually states.

Jeongguk inhales deeply before blowing out like he’s readying himself to be around the rest of the gang again. His breath makes the few out-of-place strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead flutter, his hairstyle now messy from his hands running through it one too many times. Then he nods. “Alright. Should probably head inside then.”

Taehyung mirrors his nod with a contemplative look. “Or we could just chat for a while. Make the kids practice patience for once.”

“We could,” Jeongguk agrees easily, a barely-there grin on his lips. Maybe because he doesn’t want to go inside. Maybe because he knows his friend will quote-unquote, make him talk about what happened. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t think talking through everything would help alleviate some of the ache.

The older boy looks like he gets himself comfortable, taking a seat and pulling the cork from the bottle. He tops off Jeongguk’s glass and while he’s filling his own he says, “Why’d you end things with her?”

Jeongguk falters briefly, the wine glass pausing right before it reaches his lips. “You don’t know it was me that cut it off.”

He gets a shrug in response. “I suppose. But if we’re going off track records, it’s you that has a bad one.” Taehyung snickers when Jeongguk scowls at him.

Jeongguk clicks his tongue as he takes another, bigger sip. “Fair, I guess…” he amends, but doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he just sighs. “I don’t know. She’s too young. Or maybe I’m too old. Maybe the places that we’re at in life are just too different.” He doesn’t say it, but he thinks that he may be too far ahead and that he’s not sure if you would have been able to catch up because that’s just the way that time works. “Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“Did she somehow get younger since the barbeque? Because it didn’t seem like it bothered you then?” Taehyung asks with a chuckle before adding, “Also, 7 years isn’t even that big of an age difference. I think the thing that might make you feel like it’s a bigger deal than it is, is the fact that there is such a drastic difference in your careers… ”

He ponders quietly for a second before he decides to tack on, “Which is okay, you’re allowed to be cautious about that kind of stuff. If I made as much as you, I would too,” Taehyung puts a humble hand to his chest, a soft laugh falling from his lips. The hand he raises is modest because he does very well for himself, right on par with Jeongguk and they both know it. “But I also hope you know that it’s normal for her to not know what she wants to do at her age. Not everyone is like you and Dasom were.”

The way Jeongguk’s cheeks turn to a faint hue of pink at the mention of the barbeque is an involuntary reaction, and he presses his eyes shut to try and fight off the wave of embarrassment. But little snapshot memories of you play against his lids like a montage– you in the water talking with Jin’s wife, at the edge of the pool with aioli on your bottom lip. In the chair next to him with Nari sleeping in your lap, in the bathroom with flushed cheeks, and him between legs. In his hands, in his arms, in his heart.

He revels in it, lets himself miss you for just a moment.

“___ met her by the way. Dasom, I mean. That was the– catalyst? The thing that got the ball rolling, I guess?” Jeongguk states softly, like he’s not sure if he chose the right words. He’s trying for an air of nonchalance, his eyes flicking downcast as his tattooed fingers toy with the stem of his glass.

“And that never really bothered me surprisingly. Like her job…” he adds with a half-hearted shrug. “But you’re right. It’s okay that she doesn’t know what she wants to do career-wise yet…” He watches a droplet of condensation run down the curve of the glass until it drops, the moisture making the wood of the table a few shades darker.

“But that was just another factor. The not knowing that came with her being so much younger. I think she thought that she knew what she wanted. Thought that she wanted to be with me.” He shrugs again, a small, slightly sad smile on his face.

“I’m not sure she knew what being with a divorced father would actually entail, or that she would have still wanted it if she did. I couldn’t let her trap herself, no matter how much I wanted her to stay. It would have just led to resentment and regret. And I wouldn’t have been able to handle her hating me.” He glances at Taehyung briefly before he looks away. “We just had a wake-up call, I guess. A bit of a reality check.”

Taehyung winces sympathetically. “I can see how your current girlfriend meeting your baby mama could make things a smidge tense, and cause you to really think things over, maybe take a break… But enough for you to completely end things?”

Jeongguk doesn’t bother correcting Taehyung. Just shakes his head. “It was always going to…” He pauses, thinks to himself quietly. End doesn’t feel like the right word because you and him never really began. “Stop…” he settles on saying. “If it wasn’t Nari’s mom, it would have been something else, you know? The wake-up call would have come eventually. And sooner is better than later.”

“Wait back up…” Taehyung’s eyes roam like he’s trying to make sense of what Jeongguk is saying and his previous statement is just now registering. “But she said she wanted to be with you?” he clarifies.

Jeongguk nods, takes a sip of wine.

“And you wanted to be with her?”

Jeongguk gives another, more stilted nod. “I mean, yeah…? But like I said, it just wouldn’t have worked –for a number of reasons– and we had a wake-up call.”

“Okay,” Taehyung shuts his eyes and shakes his head along with his hands, trying to shush his friend. “Forget about this alleged wake-up call and your reasons for like two seconds,” he says.

Jeongguk sits quietly across from him.

“So you’re telling me she blatantly said she wanted to be with you–” He places one hand on the table, palm up before continuing. “–and that you wanted to be with her–” He places his other hand on top of his first, interlocking his fingers as if he’s putting two and two together. “–but you ended things, basically made her decision for her–” He jerks his hands apart dramatically, with an explosive gesture. “–because you think she doesn’t know what she wants?”

A brief lull in the conversation ensues.

“Among other things,” Jeongguk quips eventually with pinched brows. He feels a bit small like he’s being scolded.

Taehyung’s head tilts back, and he takes a deep breath before speaking in a very parent-esque tone like he’s trying to explain something to a child. “Jeongguk, you cannot do that. You have got to let people make their own decisions.”

Jeongguk does not appreciate the intonation and he shows as much by narrowing his eyes.

“So ___ met your ex, who probably manipulated the situation to her liking,” Jeongguk opens his mouth to defend the mother of his child –it’s a habit at this point– but Taehyung cuts him off with a raised hand and a roll of his eyes. “The woman literally twists and manhandles situations for a living, please save your ‘Dasom’s not a bad person, she’s not a bad mom’ lecture.”

Taehyung’s known Dasom for a long time and while he’s never really been her biggest fan, even he will acknowledge that part of her, the part that’s calculating and crafty with words, is a skill just as much as it’s a flaw. It always instilled an unsettled, almost disturbed, awe in him when he caught glimpses of how she was able to spin things to get her way and gain control over situations. It made her an incredible lawyer; it allowed her to excel in her field and advance her career incredibly fast.

And he’s well aware that Dasom has a right, to some extent as Nari’s mother, to question who Jeongguk brings around their daughter. But he also knows she can be dramatic, calculative, and quite cruel at times. He doesn’t doubt that seeing someone new in her old home with her ex-husband put her on the defensive… Made her lash out, blow things out of proportion, and use that skill of hers to put thoughts into Jeongguk’s head, and potentially yours too, to attain the upper hand again.

In all honesty, when Taehyung looks at it from an unbiased, objective point of view… He’s not sure he can even blame Jeongguk’s ex. Even if he is harsh for the simple fact that he’s Jeongguk’s best friend and does think that Dasom likely exaggerated the points of whatever she said– it’s not hard to gather that the entire situation was shit all around, and everyone involved was caught off guard.

The natural tension that comes with unexpected and unfamiliar situations probably caused everyone to act in ways they typically wouldn’t. Words harsher, actions meaner, outcomes more drastic. The damage done to all parties by all parties was most likely unintentional, albeit extreme.

But he says what he says, and promptly carries on with his point. “So she met your lawyer ex, and you told her she doesn’t know what she wants…” Taehyung finishes as if he’s keeping a mental tab of everything that went wrong. “And then ___ just… left?”

“It was slightly more intense and painful and complicated than that,” Jeongguk replies in a defensive tone, “but essentially I guess? I mean I told her I wasn’t going to let her stay so what else was she going to do? I didn’t really give her much of a choice.”

Taehyung’s face falls, and he chooses to ignore how easily the words fall from Jeongguk’s lips; almost like they don’t fully register. “Please tell me you didn’t actually say that to her. That you ‘wouldn’t let her stay’.”

Jeongguk stays silent once more, a miffed expression overtaking his features this time.

“Jesus, Gguk.” Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose, looks like he’s in actual pain because of Jeongguk’s actions. “Have you talked to her since?”

The younger one deflates, his irritation transitions quickly and smoothly to dejection. “Kinda. She left in the middle of the night really upset… like crying. And we– she was probably tired… Then add the stress of Dasom showing up–”

He winces to himself, remembering the state you were in. He wasn’t much better off, but still, he feels bad because– “I knew all of that and I still let her leave. Obviously? Right? Because I was the one that told her to go?” He looks confused, like he’s trying to make sense of his past actions and what he was feeling at that moment because it doesn't quite make sense now.

“Anyway, I got really worried and I impulsively texted her, asking if she made it home safe…” After a tense pause, he tacks on: “She didn’t reply.” Like it’s an afterthought.

“And neither would I if someone said the things you said to her, to me,” Taehyung says with a flat stare.

“Who’s side are you on?” The questioned reply sounds whiny, maybe slightly begging.

“Yours!” Taehyung exclaims, “We are all Team Jeongguk except Jeongguk.”

The notes of the conversation have been a bit melancholic for obvious reasons, but it’s more or less remained easy to manage. However, as Jeongguk holds Taehyung’s stare for a few long moments he feels a wonted, recognizable ache begin to stop up his voice. He looks away with a shake of his head. “You don’t get it. You don’t know everything that happened, or how it felt to get rid of her when she was–”

Cutting himself off is a consequence of the lump in his throat. That familiar, ordinarily tender ache growing until he can’t get around it anymore.

“Then tell me,” Taehyung stresses, adding a pleading edge to his words. “Explain to me what happened, describe how it felt to cut her out. When she was what? Spell it out for me,” he requests.

Sure he wants to know, but he’s mainly trying to keep Jeongguk talking. Trying to get him to work through the false narratives he has in his head for why he ended things with you, while he explains them to him.

Jeongguk’s brooding; ruminating as he tries to sort his thoughts. Surface level– they're easy, simple questions when he thinks about them easily and simply. When he contemplates them in superficial ways.

What happened? He cut you out.

How did it feel to cut you out? It hurt.

What were you to him that made it hurt when he cut you out? The basic, most elementary explanation would be that you were someone he cared about and someone he wanted to keep.

It's simple enough to explain, easy enough to understand when he describes it superficially.

But when he digs deeper, thoroughly reflects– it’s not as easy. It’s quite the contrary.

Because with depth comes intricacies that are so weighted and hold so much gravity that it makes them too difficult and complex to explain. They are too personal and intimate and special to describe to someone who just isn’t privy.

Jeongguk couldn’t even figure it out. Even he wasn’t able to grasp, couldn’t comprehend, wasn’t able to figure out a way to make you and him simple; him and you easy enough to just work.

And if he couldn’t understand it– he’s not convinced he’ll be able to break it down and simplify it enough to elucidate it to someone who doesn’t know you as he did, someone who didn’t get to experience you the way he got to.

Because it’s all so much bigger than ‘cutting’ and ‘hurting’ and ‘caring’ and ‘wanting’.

Jeongguk gives Taehyung the plainest, most straightforward explanation that he can muster. “It hurt to cut her out because I cared about her and I wanted her. But I had to.”

“If you wanted her, why didn’t you let yourself have her?” Taehyung asks, his voice inquisitively puzzled and laced with empathetic pity. “Why did you have to?”

“It was never supposed to be serious,” Jeongguk snaps, his voice vexed and short, like he’s irritated that he has to explain because it should be obvious. “We were never supposed to get as involved or like– as invested as we did. That wasn’t part of the plan–”

Taehyung retaliates and makes his voice sharp to match. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Jeongguk. Was the divorce not enough for you to realize that plans don’t mean shit? Was that not enough for you to see that even literal years of planning won’t keep something from falling apart?”

The shift in the atmosphere could be felt even as he was still speaking. Now that he’s done and it's quiet, the tension is palpable and Taehyung knows he’s so incredibly close to overstepping. He can tell Jeongguk is trying to keep himself calm. The younger has his hands curled into tight fists and he does that tick– the one where he subtly jerks his head to the side, jutting his jaw out firmly. But still, Taehyung continues, although he treads a bit more carefully this time.

His voice is quiet and he’s talking at a slower pace than normal like he’s trying to ease Jeongguk into his next point. “Was having a baby to save your marriage part of your plan?”

It’s not a laugh; the sound that leaves his lips can’t be classified as that– but Jeongguk barks out something. Maybe a scoff? A cackle? Taehyung can’t be sure, but it's an irate, sarcastic, scary thing that lets him know that Jeongguk is fuming, just shy of being absolutely done with him and his shit.

“Tae, I promise you that if you do not think before you open your fucking mouth again–”

Taehyung winces and raises his hands in both surrender and defense like he’s trying to placate Jeongguk while also trying to protect himself. “Please– just let me finish?”

Jeongguk says nothing– the lividity coloring his features is telling enough. And Taehyung should probably do the same: Say nothing and heed the verbal and gestural warnings. Should probably read the room.

Naturally, he does not. Instead, choosing to tentatively continue.

“Was having a baby to save your marriage part of your plan? No. It wasn’t. But!” Taehyung rushes the words out, using the conjunction as a way to let Jeongguk know that he still has more to say and a chance to redeem himself.

“But– it also didn’t ruin anything. Something happening that isn’t part of the original plan, doesn’t automatically mean the new outcome is going to end up bad.” Taehyung watches Jeongguk’s scowl intensify, but he also sees how his clenched fists lose some of the tension, the veins and tendons becoming more subtle under his tattooed skin.

“You ended up with the best thing that’s ever happened to you because things didn’t go according to plan,” Taehyung reiterates, his voice soft, yet stern.

There’s a decent lull in the flow of the conversation; enough time for Jeongguk to speak up. Taehyung decides to continue when he doesn’t.

“Make all the plans you want, Jeongguk. But you will never be able to plan for everything. It’s impossible because there’s no way for you to know what’s going to happen.” He gives him another chance to say something, but Jeongguk’s lips are pressed in a stubborn line and his jaw is clenched.

Taehyung begins again, “You can make all the plans you want but most, if not all, of them, aren’t going to go the way you thought they would or the way you thought you wanted. They’re going to deviate in some way or another because you were planning for something uncertain and constantly changing.”

“There’s a chance that some of the outcomes will be bad, and that they will hurt so fucking bad. It could end up being the worst thing that ever happens to you. And I get being scared of that. I get why you want to plan, and why you have this ‘one or the other/all or nothing/black and white' mindset. I know it feels safer and like you have more control,” Taehyung sympathizes.

“But you have to acknowledge that there’s also a chance that an unplanned outcome can be better than an intended one. It could be the best thing that ever happens to you. It could be a ‘Nari’ outcome.” Taehyung tries for an encouraging smile. “___ might be one of those ‘plans’ that don’t go the way you mean for it to but end up resulting in something better. But you won’t ever know if you don’t let go of some of that control and just let things happen.”

The sentiment Jeongguk is left with is a bruising, taxing one. It’s making his throat tight and swallowing Taehyung’s notions, a chore. He’s blinking back heavy, angry tears, because he knows that what his friend is saying makes sense. He also knows that it doesn’t really change much of anything because he already let you go.

“I know that I can’t control everything and that I can’t predict every single outcome,” Jeongguk starts, “But I have to think about things long-term. If I can prevent certain things from occurring, or even encourage some, by planning… Then I have to at least make an effort to. For Nari’s sake.”

“Well obviously you think long-term about the big picture,” Taehyung agrees. He’s a father too, after all. “But you have to be willing to compromise and adapt along the way. It doesn’t have to be completely all or nothing or as extreme as you think it does. You can change your mind as things happen. Choices aren’t contracts. You can have a change of heart and you can change the quote-unquote, plan.”

Jeongguk feels his stomach drop at the last part of Taehyung’s statement, feels a little sick actually– so he bypasses it completely, acts like he doesn’t hear it. Instead, he says, “I didn’t do that with ___. Looking back, it feels like I didn’t think about anything long term when I was with her.”

Taehyung looks at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“It was like everything was only as big as her. I only thought ahead when I was thinking about the next time I would see her. I stopped planning and being responsible and I started overlooking what should have been important and–” Jeongguk’s mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s trying to find the words but he ends up just shaking his head, his voice quiet when he goes with, “It was like I wanted her so badly that I got consumed by her because everything felt so good and I was so happy… I didn’t think about anything else. Didn’t think about Nari, I didn’t think about __… I didn’t even think about my future self.”

Jeongguk’s elbows find their place on the table and he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, before scrubbing his hands down his face, tired and defeated looking when he glances up again. “I forgot that I had priorities like– I have a baby, a tiny person that is directly dependent on me for everything. I– I can’t just do that.”

“Also, I was being so selfish the whole time,” he transitions in an almost panicky tone. He’s rambling, ranting perhaps, with a self-directed, humorless laugh, “And it was so easy to be that way and get lost in her because of how she was. She was so good, Tae. Like carefree, and sweet, and so giving. She made everything so–”

His words get cut short. Caught on his heart that’s ballooning; swelling so big in his chest. Filling his pleural cavity with this contrite guilt that’s so sharp it cuts through his brain fog and he becomes so miserably aware of the fact that maybe it was so easy for him to be so selfish –so thoughtless– with you was due to you being so ready and so willing to give him everything– without asking for anything in return.

He didn’t have to give to get –and he didn’t mean to, he didn’t do it consciously– but he ended up just taking and taking and taking.

The epiphanic dawning makes it sound raw, almost choked when he gets out, “–just so much better and easier.”

“Gguk–” Taehyung tries.

“God I was so fucking selfish– like so careless with her,” he repeats. Sounds kind of shocked, surprised with himself. “Like– I knew I had no intention of keeping her. Even if I ended up wanting to, I knew. I always knew I wouldn’t let myself have her like that. And still,” He stresses the word and squeezes his eyes shut and just barely shakes his head, “I still intertwined our lives together so seamlessly and I still–”

The atmosphere is heavy and there’s an air of disappointment cloaking Jeongguk’s thoughts and admissions. It’s undeniable that the chagrin is self-directed; displeased with himself not only because of how irresponsible he feels he was –with you and his daughter– but also because of how he’s let the whole situation deplete him. How he let himself get so fixated that he’s only just now recognizing, or maybe admitting, his faults. How he allowed the situation to evolve into something so much bigger and heavier than it should have; exhausting him.

Taehyung, who finishes off his glass of wine during the pregnant pause, looks across the table and holds Jeongguk’s gaze for a fleeting moment before he’s shrugging. His tone is listless, lackadaisical as he says, “I don’t think you were being selfish. You said it yourself: You were happy with her. She was happy with you.”

Jeongguk sits there, flabbergasted and at a loss for words. It feels like he’s falling apart, maybe close to dying even– yet across from him his best friend looks almost bored? Maybe not bored, but stoically calm? Aloof?

And Jeongguk knows he’s being sensitive and dramatic and he knows it’s not Taehyung that’s becoming hyperconscious of his past mistakes, but aloof isn’t exactly the reaction he expected after more or less having a breakdown. Jeongguk takes a moment, gathers himself just to become confused again when he catches up to Taehyung’s words.

He asks his friend if he means what he said about not thinking that Jeongguk was selfish. Can’t fathom how Taehyung couldn’t see the selfishness of his actions, how he can find him blameless in the situation; when he, himself feels his self-interest was blatant.

“Based on what you told me, I think you portrayed a lot of…” The older one pauses, eyes looking skyward like he’s searching for the right word. It kind of seems like he’s settling, trying to soften the blow, when he says “...unbecoming qualities.”

His shoulders slump at Taehyung’s words, but Jeongguk now deems that he doesn’t need to know how his friend can find him blameless because his friend simply doesn’t.

Not that Jeongguk can blame him.

“But I don’t think selfishness was one of them because I don't think it’s selfish to prioritize happiness,” he states. “It’s the universal pursuit– everyone wants it…” He squints at Jeongguk, his expression mildly captious. “If anything I think you were more selfish when you ended things.”

A soft, unbelieving scoff leaves Jeongguk's lips before he can stop it. He recovers by shaking his head. His fingers extend, and he waves his hands around a little like he’s frustrated. “I ended it for her. So she could be free–”

“So you wanted her to be ‘free’,” Taehyung wiggles his fingers, air-quoting. “but not the kind of ‘free’ where she’s ‘free’ to make her own decisions?”

“I–” Jeongguk’s mouth snaps shut. He flounders a little before he gives up and settles into a malcontent frown.

“Do you see what I’m getting at?” Taehyung asks, his tone slightly parental again. Sounds mostly patient, if not, just edging on short.

Jeongguk’s reply is headstrong silence.

“You completely snubbed her and overlooked what she wanted to do what you wanted because you thought it was selfless and the right thing–”

“I didn’t want to–”

“But you must have?” Taehyung says, his palms open and gesturing in front of him like the proof is plain to see, like it’s right there on the empty table between them. He’s tried to stay patient, keep that calm tolerance. But he’s just over how dreadfully dense his friend is being. His tone is no longer just edging on short– Taehyung’s past that. It’s almost malicious and instigative when he snaps, “Because if you didn’t want to, Jeongguk, then why did you do it?”

Jeongguk’s nostrils flare slightly as he tries to not lash out as he counters, “I already told you–”

“Yeah, you told me a whole bunch of bullshit excuses for not trying.”

An offended, indignant gasp is the only comeback Jeongguk can give before Taehyung is ranting again, talking over him.

“Okay,” His gestures go from exasperated to pacifying as he bares his palms to Jeongguk, almost like he’s surrendering. He’s not, of course, but he’ll admit that was a bit harsh. “As I said earlier, I get it. Like yeah. I get being hesitant, I get being scared. I get you feeling guilty for the way that things played out. Those are all totally valid feelings; ways to… act?”

Taehyung thinks, then grins when he comes up with a better word. “Those are all valid ways to behave in this situation.” He nods to himself as if he’s his audience and he’s encouraging himself because he’s giving the best speech known to man.

“But some emotions and behaviors are not valid in this situation. Entitlement, for one. It’s my opinion that you must have been emoting this quite generously considering how you were acting like it was your right to disregard her. Her feelings, her choices, her wants,” Taehyung points to a finger every time he lists something of yours that Jeongguk overlooked, and Jeongguk shirks in on himself a little more each time. In his head, he sniffs, turns his nose up at Taehyung’s opinion.

“Self-righteousness. You know a lot. You may even know more, and better than her about certain things, but not all things. You don’t know everything. Jeongguk does not know what __ wants. Jeongguk does not know what is best for ___. Jeongguk may have an opinion on it, but only ___ knows that. What you think is right, isn’t always what is right. Consider what you were coming off as. As a pretentious, arrogant, self-righteous ass. And for what?”

When Jeongguk parts his lips to speak, to at least try and defend himself, because jesus fucking christ, Taehyung interrupts him.

“For nothing. You’re not the standard.”

“Alright–”

“Pusillanimity.”

Jeongguk purses his lips and allows himself to be talked over, once again, as he shifts feebly in his seat. Wonders when Taehyung's vocabulary became so extensive and mean.

“You’re allowed to feel scared, but you’re not allowed to behave like a pussy about it–”

“I resent that–”

“–as you should,” Taehyung says without missing a beat, smoothly transitioning back to what he was saying. “You’re being a coward, Gguk. Like point-blank. Taking the easy way out and pushing her away because you’re too afraid to take a risk. Because you don’t have the courage to choose her and try.” His expression is sad, dressed with muted disappointment, maybe a glimmer of pity. “And I guarantee that when you chose easy instead of choosing her– it hurt her. She’s the one you were trying to take care of, but she’s the one you ended up hurting. And you hurt yourself.”

Taehyung can see how much self-inflicted pain Jeongguk brought on himself when he hurt you. He’s sure it hurt him in the moment too, but retrospectively, it’s written so transparently on Jeongguk’s face. Brows are pinched, mouth slightly parted, shallow exhales puffing out like Taehyung’s words knocked the wind out of him and he’s trying to catch his breath again.

He shakes his head helplessly, whispers, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, and I think she probably knows that too,” Taehyung consoles.

He considers leaving it at that, not wanting to come off more lecture-y than he already has. Feels a little bad about being so hard on the younger, too. But he also feels like Jeongguk has so thoroughly convinced himself that he did the right thing. That Jeongguk has done such a good job of gaslighting himself, that he daftly believes ending things with you was for the best. That ending wasn’t just the only conclusion, but it was an unavoidable conclusion.

Taehyung wonders if maybe Jeongguk is the one that needs things broken down and spelled out for him to get that he could have done things differently. That if he made alternate choices, there could have been an alternate ending where he didn’t break his own heart.

“Jeongguk, you’re a such great dad to Nari. She’s never going to doubt how much you care or how important she is to you because loving her is the thing you're best at,” Taehyung waits just a second before he adds in a gentle voice, “But you’re not just a really great dad, and you’re allowed to prioritize and love other things… other people.”

Jeongguk starts to shake his head, an argument on the tip of his tongue. Ready to tell Taehyung that of course he’s allowed to love other things and other people. He knows this.

That wasn’t the issue with you. He knew that with time the desire he had for you likely would have blossomed into something more. If he chose to– he probably could have loved you. Could have kept you for himself, selfishly, just as he wanted to. He could have indulged in you, could have let himself be smothered in everything that came with you. He could have loved you eagerly, and he knows he could have loved you so perfectly.

Maybe.

With time, probably.

If he was just a touch more greedy than he is, he might have allowed himself.

The issue with you was that he got so immersed in and preoccupied with you that he lost sight of everything else. Let himself get distracted and act in ways that, as a father, he just couldn’t. So while he could have allowed himself to love you, he couldn’t allow himself to become irresponsible. He tells Taehyung as much.

“Gguk, that’s just what happens when you find something new to care about. It’s exciting and it feels good,” Taehyung explains gently, “You fuck up and end up making a few mistakes because you’re a little caught up and preoccupied. Your priorities get skewed because there’s something else that’s becoming important to you too, and you haven’t learned how to manage it.”

“And yeah, you might get selfish and a little consumed. Immersed. But that’s normal, not irresponsible, and you have to cut yourself some slack while you figure out how to make time for it and work it into your life.”

There’s a glassiness gleaming in Jeongguk’s eyes, heavy tears welling until there’s just too many. The drops trek freely despite his efforts to keep them in, his cheeks sticky and salty, his nose runny and red, and his shoulders shaking as he attempts to stay collected.

It’s quiet and he stutters a little as he gets out, “I-it didn’t feel like this with D–” A deep, guilty shame makes it hard to get her name out.

Jeongguk doesn’t even try to finish, persisting with, “I’m just s-scared I’m gonna fuck up again, like I did w-” A watery, frustrated groan cuts him off and he puts his hands over his face when he can’t finish his sentence again because of his cries. Like I did with Dasom. Like I’ve already done, and am still doing with you.

“Gguk,” Taehyung laughs, trying to lighten the mood, “There’s an adjustment period and it’ll take a bit of trial and error, but you’ll find a new balance.”

“___ can be important to you at the same time that Nari is important to you at the same time that Dasom is important to you at the same time that you’re important to you. Caring about one thing doesn’t mean that you suddenly begin caring about another thing less. You just care about them in different ways.”

Jeongguk is trying to compose himself, keeps taking those deep, slightly hiccupy, self-soothing breaths. Holding them in, before blowing them out harshly. Taehyung knows Jeongguk’s almost at his breaking point but he only has a bit left to say.

“Maybe ___ didn’t know all of the stuff that comes with being with someone who has a kid, and an ex, and a past. Maybe she didn’t fully know what she wanted because of that. But you know what you should have done instead of pushing her away?” he asks gently, “You should have explained it to her. Told her the bad and the good. Because of course, it’s a lot; it’s really, really tough. But it’s also so rewarding, and a privilege.”

Jeongguk is growing weepier with each passing minute, but he gives a sorry, sapped nod just to show Taehyung he’s listening.

“After explaining it to her, you should have given her time to think about it, weigh the pros and cons. You should have waited for her to make her own choice. Then you should have considered what would’ve been best for both of you, what would make you both happiest. From there, you should have decided on the next step together. And then you should have tried.”

His leg is bouncing under the table and he twists one of the few rings on his fingers. He’s trying to keep his composure but the more Taehyung explains things to him, the more regretfully obtuse Jeongguk feels.

Because he very well might be all the things Taehyung said he was– but he is a good version of them. He swears it. And he knows it doesn’t really make sense; that it’s almost impossible to be a good type of entitled and self-righteous. That it’s not believable that his cowardly and pusillanimous actions came from a good place. But to him– they did. He knows what his intentions were, and he knows that they were so pure. That he did what he did because he cared about you.

Admitting he was scared, acknowledging that the fear he felt was pure cowardice, is the least he can do.

But in his defense, he just didn’t want to learn what it was to have you, just to end up losing you. He didn’t want to discover how it felt to be loved by you, only for that feeling to get replaced with your resentment. He didn’t want to wholly understand the bliss of you being with him when you were there and present, only to forget it once he came to understand the ache of you leaving; when you were gone.

Now, however, he sees that he fucked up. Can see how narrow-minded he was. How his actions, no matter the intent, didn’t come across the way he wanted. That the outcome didn’t go as he planned.

He’s able to recognize that if a plan can stray and an outcome can change– there can be infinite endings. Good ones, bad ones. Realizes that if pain is possible, so is bliss. Understands that sadness and happiness go hand in hand and that if there’s a chance for one, there’s a chance for the other.

It’s kind of black and white, all or nothing, one or the other in its own way. In a way that Jeongguk hasn’t fully grasped yet, but in a way that he wants to try and learn.

The consequences of his actions and mistakes can be felt physically. It’s a visceral ache, an apologetic longing, an emptiness within him– and it seems like it never goes away. Like there’s this void inside of him that can’t be filled. Like an essential piece of him is lost and has gone missing, leaving a hollow vacancy behind his ribs until he finds it again.

He knows it’s melodramatic; that things end between people that care about each other, that they get over it, and that they move on. It happens all the time. Every single day. He knows– because he cared about Dasom, wanted her– and still, he watched his marriage fall apart right in front of him.

Jeongguk’s never compared you to her or her to you, and he doesn’t start now. But, he does liken the want; tries to differentiate between the way he wanted her and the way he wants you.

Because it’s the same feeling. Want.

But it’s distressing; so confusing because he can’t wrap his head around the same fucking feeling not feeling the fucking same.

It almost instills an anxious uncertainty within him; causes him to question himself a little because he believed he had a good understanding of what it is to want, of how it feels to desire. An understanding of what comes with all the feelings that are akin, too. What it feels like to lust after, to crave, to yearn for, to long for, to wish for.

But apparently, he doesn’t.

Maybe never did.

Because it seems that the only thing he’s sure of now, when it comes to want, is that wanting Dasom didn’t feel like wanting you does. With you –the want, the desire, the yearning– it’s so different.

Come to think of it, Jeongguk wouldn’t be surprised if that novel distinction played a part in his hesitance; that it had something to do with why he pushed you away, why he chose to never let himself have you.

Somehow, you turned feelings he thought he truly understood into feelings that had a sense of ambiguity to them. Feelings that he was suddenly so unaccustomed to that they seemed almost alien –in that anxiety-riddled self-doubting way– because it felt like he had no experience with them, had no idea how to even begin to approach the different that was you.

Taehyung told him he was being a coward. And Jeongguk admitted that yes; he was being a coward. Internally confessed that he was scared to lose you. But as things are falling into place, finally clicking for him, he thinks that the cowardice might have also stemmed from a fear of having you because he didn’t know how to.

Because while you were fresh and exciting –making Jeongguk so brash and so eager– that newness subsequently made you so unlike what he was comfortable with and sure about –simultaneously making Jeongguk so reluctant and so scared.

Only because different is new and it’s strange and it can seem alienating. Different is simply unfamiliar and anything unfamiliar is always a little, maybe a lot scary. Naturally intimidating and unnerving.

He comes to the conclusion that it’s not a comparison. The want. It can’t be, really, because he has nothing to compare it to. He’s never known an appetency as unique as the one he has for you.

The varying wants he’s come across during his life and relationships can’t be compared, but they can be different. And they so clearly are, that Jeongguk’s inability to make sense of it is almost embarrassing. His friend telling him that it’s possible for him to care about things in different ways comes to the forefront of his mind.

“You can… want things… differently?”

Jeongguk feels stupid, so thickheaded because he’s asking for assurance and clarification about concepts that are supposed to be common sense. He wonders when he let his way of thinking get so off-kilter and how many preventable fuck-ups he’s made because of it.

“Obviously and most definitely.”

The sheer amount of thinking he’s had to do, and the inordinate number of thoughts he’s had to comb through are taunting him with a headache. Dull pounding edging at his psyche; his mental and emotional capacity almost running on empty. Yet, he’s not sure he could shut his mind off even if he wanted to.

He’s on the cusp of it. So close to putting the pieces together. On the brink of figuring out the riddle of you and him that seemed cruelly unsolvable; like a sick joke with no punchline.

Jeongguk knows that he wanted Dasom. He knows what they had was good, fulfilling, and comfortable in its own way. But in that same breath, he knows that while it may have been good, it was never blissful; that it may have been fulfilling, but it never made him feel full; that even though it may have been comfortable, it never felt warm. He doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t miss it either. He doesn’t want it anymore; hasn’t for what seems like ages.

When it came to wanting you– Jeongguk didn’t know until he learned.

Of course, he knew that what you had was good. What he didn’t know was the extent of how good. Only when he determined that it was so good that it was sublime and unlike any mirth he’d known before, to a degree that he’d never felt before– only then did he learn that what he had with you was bliss.

He knew it was fulfilling. That being with you gave him what he needed. Scratched the itch, fed the hunger, served the purpose that a ‘fun and casual’ fling was meant to. But he didn’t know being with someone could be so abundantly and satisfyingly rewarding; until he learned that the fulfillment could reach excess; that he could become so full of you that he was overflowing.

He knew it was comfortable– what you had with him. But he didn’t know being with someone could be so serenely content, dreamily domestic– that it could make the comfort become something he could physically feel. Not until he learned that you were the embodiment of comfort; that when he touched you, what he was looking for became tangible. That when he touched you, he was touching the warmth that lived inside of you.

He didn’t know humans could be homes until he learned that sensations could be envied.

He didn’t know he would regret it; didn’t know he would miss you so much. He didn’t know that the different, unfamiliar, scary want would turn into this habitual, heartsick, delicate yearning.

Jeongguk didn’t know anything until he learned.

And he’s learned that he wants to try.

~~~

A rough, choked sound sputters from his throat when he feels a few heavy thumps on his back.

“There, there,” a voice consoles lazily.

Jeongguk promptly breaking down and melting into a puddle of tears after admitting he fucked up and wants to try and get you back is enough for a tipsy Taehyung to move from his place across the table to the unoccupied one to the right of the younger.

He’s able to peer inside now, his back no longer to the house, and he sees Jimin. He looks a little worried, a wrinkle between his brows as his eyes flit between Taehyung and Jeongguk, who’s got his head down as he cries into his folded arms atop the table.

He shoos Jimin, and now Yoongi with a knocked out Solmi on his hip, away with a dismissive flick of his wrist, giving them a look that says: I’ve got this.

With fingers digging into the sides of Jeongguk’s neck, in a supposed to be soothing way, Taehyung asks, “So what’s the plan, Gguk? Whatcha gonna do to get her back?”

Another weeping sob is the response he gets.

He nods to himself. “Right.”

It’s quiet for a small blip of time before Jeongguk whines, “She never answered my text. She could be dead for all I know, like she could have gotten into a crash or something and it would be all my fault and–”

“Have you seriously not looked her up to check on her?”

“–she doesn’t have Facebook– and I would just have to live with that. And I would deserve to live with it. The guilt–”

“Of course, she doesn’t have Facebook. She’s not ancient,” Taehyung explains with a roll of his eyes as he pulls out his phone from his pocket, “She probably uses Instagram or something. How do you spell her name?”

Jeongguk’s perked up, his red eyes and splotchy face now curiously peeking over Taehyung’s arm. He quietly spells your name out loud and watches as the letters appear one by one in the search bar. A few profiles get tapped through before Jeongguk’s small, sharp inhale lets Taehyung know he found the right one. He willingly hands over the mobile.

The account is public, but Jeongguk’s not sure if that’s better or worse as he takes in what your feed consists of. There’s an assortment of things; pictures of yourself, some with your roommates, a few scenery ones to break up the monotony. One or two of the small succulent he gave you.

There are also some of him. Of Nari.

He finds his thumb moving on its own, tapping on a photo of tiny hands with tiny painted nails.

“Don’t accidentally double-tap; that likes the pic and we’re using Iseul’s account.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Why do you let your 8-year-olds have phones and social media?” he asks, turning to look at Taehyung, who is still looking at your account. “What happened to playing outside and reading books?”

“Times are changing Ggukkie,” Taehyung muses, “Landlines hardly exist and I want to be sure that they can reach me, you know? Besides, it has parental controls… If you look at Iseul and Haneul’s followed accounts, it’s all just video game stuff and anime shit…” It’s quiet for just a second before he adds, “They could probably give you some cheat codes and tips since you’ve been spending so much fucking time on the PlayStation lately.”

Jeongguk’s bony elbow digs into Taehyung’s bony ribs.

After a small wince, Taehyung asks, “That’s Nari?”

It’s phrased like a question, but to them, it’s obvious that it’s her. But to anyone else, they would have no clue that the baby is his daughter. The photo was taken from a higher-up angle; besides the baby’s little manicured hands, it’s just her baby-soft, wispy hair pinned back by a teeny pink barrette, and the chub of her rosy cheek visible. He thinks he recalls the day you took it.

You had just shown up at his place. No invite, no scheduled plans.

When he opened his door, he saw you standing there with your too-small hands holding a too-full make-up bag, and a too-big smile on your too-pleased face declaring that it was the perfect day for a Spa Day.

You were determined, and you left little room to argue. He didn’t, of course. But he wouldn’t have either. Not when you were right there on his doorstep, practically buzzing with how excited you had been. You were almost giddy; just so happy and eager to spend time with not only him but also his baby.

Jeongguk remembers sneaking little glances at the both of you while he dutifully cut the cucumbers you had asked him to. You were sat on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, and Nari was on the couch in front of you. She had her chunky, stout legs dangling off the edge and her round, little toes right in your face.

Bubble Guppies was on the television, so Nari was occupied and mostly still as you painted her nails a bright shade of corally pink. Messing up only once or twice. Just when the baby giggled and clapped her pudgy hands and when she squealed and kicked her plump feet.

By the time Nari was put down for the night and tucked snug as a little bug in her bed, you and she were twinning; your salon-done acrylics repainted in the same polish. He remembers clearly because he helped you with your weaker hand.

Also because somehow, he ended up matching as well. Funnily enough, you had managed to get him to agree to a single finger of his being painted as well. The pinky on his left hand.

Persuasion might have been a talent of yours. Your charmed kisses convinced him, as well as your rapt, eager touches. The conniving sweet-nothings you recited into his ear, were compelling, too.

Yeah, maybe you were persuasive. Or maybe Jeongguk was just easy. Always too weak for you.

His heart yanks in his chest at the memory and he forces himself to pause the mental replay before it stops being pure and starts being indecent.

Jeongguk’s eyes flicker down to the caption.

spa day 💁‍♀️💅🏻👶🏻🐛👨🏻‍🍼

He feels the slight shake of Taehyung’s body when he chuckles next to him, and the corners of his own lips turn up too as he opens the comments.

flickthebinna: did u have a baby?

ocstagram: not yet… 🤨🤰

flickthebinna: ?

Heat crawls beneath his skin and his cheeks flush pink and Jeongguk can’t stop the clumsy, confusedly pleased laugh he lets out as he clicks back to your feed.

Despite the next picture he taps on being bleary, it’s evident that you’re in a car and that there is a palm resting on your thigh.

The car belongs to him, the familiar interior lights of his Mercedes glowing purple in the photo, the luxury logo on the steering wheel too well-known to be mistaken regardless of the quality– or lack thereof. So naturally, the hand on your leg belongs to him, as well. But like the photo of Nari, no one would know who’s hands are on you or who’s the owner of the car you’re in. Except for the person themself. Even the tattoos on his knuckles are indecipherable due to the poor resolution. The picture looks like it may have been taken on accident or while you were moving– grainy and pixelated and motion-blurred.

It’s captioned with a simple, eloquent: SKRRRR

“What does that mean?” Jeongguk mumbles aloud, moving to the comments again.

Taehyung hums next to him. “An onomatopoeia for the sound a car makes, I think.”

He grunts in acknowledgment as he reads.

jadedjade: that is a sugar daddy car if i ever seen one 🕵️‍♀️🧐

ocstagram: he’s not my sugar daddy 🙄🤚

ocstagram: he’s my best friend 😌👍

flickthebinna: ok but can he fight

Jeongguk finds himself smiling again, but this time it’s a little sad too. It was posted just a couple of months ago. Reminds him that regardless of how drawn out it feels like it’s been, in reality, you haven’t actually been away from him for that long at all. Makes him recall how quickly something good can go bad.

“Alrighty!”

The cellphone gets plucked from his hands by Taehyung, who’s sensed the change in ambiance. “I think that is enough checking in for tonight,” he says.

Jeongguk doesn’t put up much of a fight, instead sighing and looking towards Namjoon’s place again. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but inside he sees it’s been long enough for the group to wind down. Almost everyone gathered in the living room, something playing on the tv. Probably one of the many Christmas movies that get played far too soon after Turkey Day. Hoseok’s got Nari on his lap, and one of the twins tucked into his other side.

“I’m surprised Nari’s still awake,” he muses.

“You know she’s fighting it, trying to hang with the big kids.”

“Gonna be very grouchy in the morning,” Jeongguk groans. The annoyance is feigned though, and the smile in his voice gives him away.

Taehyung laughs lightly for a moment before he’s yawning, his words jumbled and rolled together he tries to get out, “I’ll pull your Secret Santa name; let me take her for the night.”

Jeongguk is an expert at understanding hard-to-decipher words, so he knows what was said and is quick to say no.

“C’mon,” Taehyung presses, “Just for tonight. She’ll be fine, and you could use some time by yourself.”

“I have time by myself every other week.”

“Touche…”

It’s quiet for a couple of beats before Jeongguk is saying, “The answer is still no, but why do you think I could use some alone time?”

With shoulders brushing his ears, Taehyung shrugs. “You just worked through a lot of tough stuff. The alone time could be a good opportunity to sort through everything.”

Jeongguk hums.

“You could start thinking about what you’re going to do about ___. What the first step is, what you’re gonna say.”

Taehyung takes a second to look at Jeongguk’s profile. It’s quick, and the latter attempts to keep his face neutral, but the tense way the corners of his lips pull down isn’t missed. Jeongguk can’t mask the hesitant unease, and Taehyung has enough social awareness to pick up on it and know that it probably means that Jeongguk might not be ready for that just yet.

“Or… Or you could… cry yourself to sleep?” he tries. He thinks for a split second before he decides to run with it. “I know you’ve like– been crying, but if you were alone? You could really let go, you know? Wouldn’t have to hold back like you’ve been trying to.”

Taehyung is met with an expression that is not only unconvinced but also unamused.

He is nothing if not resilient, though. “Or you could even jerk off to that video you have of the both of you! You could moan, Gguk. Loud.”

“Oh– I don’t– the video um, I haven’t–” Jeongguk sputters, trying to deny the use of said video. His hands waving to and fro a bit, hectic. An uncomfortable tinge to his features.

It’s true, though. He doesn’t use it. Hasn’t even once since the fight. He figures he might as well delete the video. It makes sense, especially if he doesn’t watch it. Figures it should have already been deleted. That would have been the right thing to do. Figures he’s only human, too.

“I did not ask, and I do not want to know. Nor do I care,” Taehyung interrupts, “Just think about it, though. A loud, lewd, lascivious, lecherous jer–”

Almost like he forgets his momentary embarrassment, Jeongguk’s expression veers straight from uncomfortable to unbelievably judgemental. If the look on his face could speak, it would be telling Taehyung that he is stupid. “I can literally jerk off –loudly– 2 weeks out of the month. Are you daft?”

“Intelligence is subjective,” Taehyung’s bony fingers flick outward dismissively, “But my insistence is not! C’mon, don’t be selfish,” he pouts for emphasis, “If I take Nari tonight, I can use her to get the boys to sleep early. Can pull the old ‘baby’s bedtime is everyone’s bedtime’ card.”

Jeongguk presses his lips firmly together, fighting a smile, but they quirk up at the corners in spite of himself. “You’re a bad dad.”

Taehyung grins back, mischievous. He makes his voice stern and comically parental. “ ‘We all have to sleep when the baby sleeps. We don’t want to wake her up and ruin her dreams, do we?’ ”

They laugh softly together before it naturally dies off, the atmosphere back to being more or less mellow and light.

“I know you, Gguk,” Taehyung starts, “And I know that you don’t need a break. But I also know that a break wouldn’t hurt. Might even do you some good. Sneak away now while she’s occupied,” he encourages, “You know she’ll cry if you say bye.”

Jeongguk frowns as he feels himself giving in. Admitting that he is tired. Considering that it might be nice to be able to go home and head straight to bed without the time-consuming dad routine. He loves it, of course, and he’ll miss doing it– but after the night he’s had? He feels a little bad but tries to soften the guilt by thinking about what Taehyung said. The thing about him being important to himself, too.

He looks back to the house again, eyes scanning till they land on his baby. She’s slumped, clearly tired and he thinks she may be asleep already but then Nari yawns, a tiny balled-up fist coming up to rub at her eye.

Jeongguk smiles, soft and wistful. Before his brows are furrowing and he’s turning back to his friend with an appalled, accusatory glare. Taehyung’s previous heartfelt advice coming to mind reminds him of something else his friend said. Something less heartfelt.

“Wait– the video? How did you–?”

~~~

The feel of his bedding brushing against his skin makes him shiver. Causes frissons– excited little chills blooming all across his body. He kicks, trying to maneuver the sheet down and down until it’s off of him. Repeats the actions once more but with his briefs, now. Down and down until they’re off of him and he’s bare.

Jeongguk’s home is quiet. A little cold.

This time, it’s the brisk, air-conditioned draft in his bedroom that creates those chills. The bumps are small, just barely raised. Could only be seen by someone who looked at him closely enough; felt by someone who touched him aptly enough.

His exhales are stuttered and sharp as his body trembles; the constant tremor is faint, almost imperceptible, and caused by the lust simmering just under his skin. His lashes kiss the highs of his cheeks as he blinks his eyes shut; a worthless attempt at grounding himself. His lips grow damp as the pink of his tongue darts over them quickly; something he naturally does when he gets worked up like this.

His thoughts are running rampant as he thinks about all the unintentional things he’s doing, all of the visceral reactions he’s having. About those bumps on his skin.

Jeongguk thinks about how the restless waver of his breathing and the overwhelmed fluttering of his lashes and the antsy way he’s licking over his lips and the minute, barely-there texturing of his skin– how all of those things are just little ways that what’s inside of him is coming out; how it’s becoming.

It shows how intense and how keen the arousal stirring within him truly is. So charged and carnal that it’s emerging as actions that are eager and visible; as reactions that are hot and tangible. So real it can be seen; touched.

Going straight home and straight to bed– that was Jeongguk’s intention. He swears it; swears he was just so tired. Swears that he almost bypassed doing his skincare and brushing his teeth completely in favor of succumbing to tiredness. Swears was so truly drained from the night and from how much he ended up missing you, thinking about you. And from how, at some point during the night, missing and thinking meshed until they blurred into exhaustion.

Sleep was supposed to have been instantaneous. As soon as he laid down in his too-big, too-empty bed inside of his quiet, cold home– he was supposed to have been down for the count.

But his home is as lonely as it is quiet.

And lonely people do lonely things.

They think lonely thoughts that are actually just memories of times when they weren’t lonely at all.

Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever felt lonely with you.

And he wants you as much as he misses you.

His fingers shake with it as he finally wraps a hand around himself. Cock laying flat on his tummy, heavy and hot. It’s dark in his room, but he’s flushed probably. Leaking definitely.

The tip of his tongue swipes over his lips again before he nibbles on the inside, contemplative as he rubs his index finger on the wet head, teasing. Pulls the plump of his bottom lip between his teeth completely; makes a conscious effort to stay aware enough to not gnaw them raw. But in the back of his head, he knows it’s for naught. When he wakes up tomorrow it will be with red bitten lips and a guilty conscience.

Hell, Jeongguk’s guilty now.

Everything about him depicts it.

His mannerisms are already cloaked in shame and it’s only just started.

From the way he turns his face into his shoulder when he finally completes that first, full stroke. Foreskin dragging when his hand goes from tip to base. The soft thump of the outside of his fist hitting his lower belly sounds so loud– vulgar in the hushed space.

To the way he squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that small white spots begin to come and go in the dark– as if he thinks he might be able to block out all of the sordid things he’s imagining if he tries hard enough.

Twisting on the upstroke has him rolling his lips between his teeth before he ends up parting his mouth and voicing the softest, most sweet-sounding sighs. The lilting breaths are pretty and whiny even to Jeongguk’s own ears and he feels himself grow warm with a flush.

When the tip of his cock spits out a few heavy drops of precum so soon, he gets almost flustered. His demure, wanton sighs quickly shift to meek, bashful whimpers.

Because it’s embarrassing. Just how fast the mere thought of you gets him going; so hot and so bothered.

The pace of his palm is fast, pumping up and down the length of his cock. Instinctually chasing that high as slick clicking noises get louder, audibly mixing with his moans, the rustling of his movements. The first hint of that telltale heat flickers in his lower belly faster than he expects and faster than he hopes.

He doesn’t want it to end already. Reasons that if he’s going to give in to this again –into getting off with nothing but the thought of you to finish him, into stomaching the consequential regret that comes after he cums– he wants it to at least be worth it. Wants to milk it and make the pleasure last as long as possible.

So he clings to his last bit of self-indulgent resolve. Takes his hand off and moves it away.

Precum’s just pouring from the slit when his cock snaps back to his tensed belly; leaking enough that the pink head makes a lewd slap when it hits his skin. He’s hard enough that the tip rests just below his belly button.

Jeongguk lays still for a few, letting the needy ache in his gut settle as he puffs out soft pants. Trails his nails lazily over his skin; a gesture that taunts him as much as it gets him ready. Warming him up for his own touch again.

He’s sifting through his memories of you when he gives in and allows himself just a few small squeezes over his length. His grip tight and pulsing. Not quite edging, but… playing. Indulging maybe; sating moreso.

Trying to take the edge off just enough to prolong the pleasure and drag it out as he thinks back to the time he got you off with just his hand in your panties, his fingers toying with your clit.

It was sleepy and slow, soft in the way that morning playtime always was with you. Him returning the favor; taking care of you after you took care of him.

Started with him quietly reminding you of how good you made him feel the night before. Him sweetly kissing praise into your still-warm-with-sleep skin. Finished with you rocking into his touch until you came quietly for him. You remembering to thank him after, your words whispered sweetly in an airy, far-away tone.

Jeongguk begins to stroke gently then. Just lightly touching with only his fingertips as he thinks some more. Until he ends up lingering on the first time he had you.

The memory prompts another shame-riddled rush to surge through him. He recalls how he braced himself on the newly-decorated wall behind him when you pressed your hand against him, his hips rutting and grinding into your small palm. How the wall supported him while he finished so quickly, too quickly. How it held him up while he came, making such a mess in his pants.

Recalls how you had to brace yourself on the same wall when he got down on his knees for you and tasted your cunt for the first of many times, his lips sucking and his tongue licking. How the wall supported you, just like it did him, while you squirmed so impatiently, so greedily. How it held you up while you came, just like it did him, making such a mess of him all over again

The paint on the wall behind you had barely had enough time to dry. Was wet still on the opposite side of the room.

The opposite side of his daughter’s room.

God, it’s sick. So perverse and deviant and just wrong, but there’s something to say about how badly he must have wanted you. How terribly he must have needed you to take you like that, in that setting.

Then Jeongguk’s letting go. Letting his thick, engorged length drop to his abdomen.

The heavy way his cock flops back down when he eases the tension in his hold– it doesn’t really hurt… it’s not exactly painful when it thumps against his tensed tummy again. It feels more like a muted, dull pang in his cock. Almost pleasant? It feels good if anything– but the general sensation reminds him of a time he ached. A time when his cock actually did hurt.

It’s the time he had you at his work, against his desk. After you had him in his office chair.

Jeongguk can’t stop his cock from kicking and twitching when shivers run down his body– it’s a natural reaction, mostly. Kind of like how his hands going up to tweak his nipples is mostly a natural reaction, too.

You had asked him before– if there had ever been a time when he was too worked up, if he’d ever felt so good that it became too good, if you could be the one to make him that way. It was an offhand, spur-of-the-moment comment; he figured it was just dirty talk. Nothing more than racy words spoken to turn an already heated phone call into one that was even hotter.

So he went along with it and told you that no, he hadn’t ever been too worked up or felt too good. Humored you and promised that yes, the first one to ever make him feel so good that it was too good, too much, could be you.

Then the phone call ended, and he hung up, and he pretty much forgot about it

Until now, that is.

Something’s got him stuck on that conversation and something’s got him linking it back to that time in his office.

He wonders if maybe that wasn’t just you ‘getting back at him’ for the work party because you were ‘mad at him’. Wonders if making him ask permission, getting him to beg, riding him till he came, not stopping even after he did… was really you trying to live out the phone call.

Was that the first time he felt so good that it was too much? That it hurt?

But as soon as he entertains the possibility, he has second thoughts. Reconsiders and thinks about how that might have been nothing. Yeah it was too much, and it hurt, but he has no clue what you meant by wanting to ‘take care of him’ or ‘have your way with him’. That time in his office could have just been the beginning, just you going easy on him, barely anything.

A soft moan he can’t hold back colors the air.

What would have happened if he hadn’t been able to break those cuffs and get the upper hand back?

Would you have kept going? Was that your intention all along? Did he ruin your plan when he got his hand around your neck? What would it have felt like if you had just kept going and going and–

Jeongguk must have subconsciously moved his hand from toying with his nipples back to stroking his cock because he doesn’t remember choosing to do so. But he doesn’t correct himself and he doesn’t stop either because he’s jerking his cock fast– just as fast as his heart is pounding and it feels so nice. So fucking nice that he thinks it’s gonna make him cum.

And he wants to cum, but he knows he wants it to last more.

So he tries to keep himself together with a tight squeeze at the base of his cock before he pulls his hand away. His cock throbs, jumps slightly before pulling tight to his belly.

He’s worked up so he’s squirming a little and taking deep breaths that come out a little shaky. His hands are shaky too when he brings them above his head to tug at the pillow underneath him just to keep them off of his body.

Would it have just kept hurting? If you had kept going? Would it have just kept getting worse until it became too much? Or would it have started to feel good again? Even better maybe?

Jeongguk’s fingers dig into the down of the pillow, and he turns his head into his arm trying to muffle his whine. His hips pull down, dipping into the mattress before slowly rolling into the air, into nothing. The breaths he pants against his bicep are hot, and when he sinks his teeth into the meat of it he does it hard enough for it to hurt just a hint.

Because fuck– he doesn’t think he’s ever been this affected.

Sure he’s been horny, worked up, turned on. Whatever.

But bucking into nothing? Whining like he’s in heat? Trembling and leaking and entertaining things that had never even crossed his mind before?

No, he’s never lost himself in lust enough for that to happen.

It seems there’s a first time for everything, however.

And maybe that’s what it is. Having a first with you. Trying something new for the first time, learning new ways to please, and make each other feel good. You being his only experience, and him being yours. Knowing each other in ways that nobody else does.

There’s a newfound urgency to the way he makes a move for his cock again. A flawed clumsiness to the way his fingers stumble when they get caught on his sticky skin due to his haste. An almost inexperienced awkwardness to the way he fumbles when can’t seem to get a good grip on himself due to his eagerness.

Because the way his heart starts pounding faster in his chest, and the way he has to grip at the base of his cock and keep himself in check again is so telling and oh, he’s so sure that’s what’s got him like this. Sweaty and wanton, antsy in his too-big, empty bed with one hand pumping his dribbling cock, and the other reaching between his legs to palm at his balls, his fingers reaching down farther to press and rub against his taint.

Yeah, he was worked up before; his memories of you enough to get him hard and panting. But they weren’t enough to shake that guilt.

When he started to wonder, though? When he got curious enough to flirt with the idea of you being the first one to make him feel so good, that it was too good, till it was too much? When he began to fantasize about it? That’s when he got shameless.

As soon as he cums, so will the guilt. That’s a given and he’s well aware. But right now, the want is making him feel almost feverish, depraved and he’s touching himself with hands that are so greedy, so self-serving. Unblushingly selfish for his pleasure as he imagines it’s you touching him.

“Ah– nngghhh, fuck–” he gasps, but it’s soft. His voice breathy and faint.

In his head, you’re being a little mean. Your hand on his cock is loose, teasing, and lazy. Giving him just enough to feel like he needs to cum, but not enough to make him cum.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “you can use me, make yourself cum…”

It sounds sweet because it’s you, but even that is laced with something snide. It’s almost mocking. And his head is spinning because it mirrors so many of the times he’s had you, but it’s so different because right now, in his head, you’re the one that’s deciding, controlling. Telling him when its okay to cum, how to cum, letting him cum.

His fist is loose, just like yours is in his head, and he fucks up into it, his foreskin dragging with every push and pull. The fingers of his other hand are still toying with his hole, grazing the cinched muscle every time his hips rock into his hand, but he’s trying to mimic the way he thinks you would play with him; his touch deliberately gentle, a little curious.

When he’s just rocking his hips, the rhythmic brushing over his taint and his hole is teasing. But when he starts to get eager and needy and begins fucking his hand faster, the sensation is almost constant– feels so good paired with his thrusts, his thoughts.

And Jeongguk’s gonna fucking cum. So close after all the teasing and edging and playing with himself that he’s done– its inevitable, now. His balls pulled tight and his cock rock hard in his hand. Wet and drippy and swollen and so sensitive.

His body is so tense that he’s shaking, his sweaty chest flushed and heaving stuttery inhales as he works for it.

“Oh my god– please–” Jeongguk pleads softly with himself, his body. You. His voice is laced with a desperation he’s never heard before.

The burst of precum that shoots from the head is enough to know that he’s there, that he couldn’t stop it now, even if he wanted to. He feels that pull in his lower belly, and his cock fattens up even more, gets even harder and Jeongguk knows its flushed such an angry shade of pink. And fuck it’s such a steady build-up. When he thinks it feels good it just gets better.

“Yes, yeah–” he pants.

Jeongguk’s mouth parts in a small ‘o’, and his brows knit together and his eyes are squeezed shut so tight and if he concentrates he can picture you– can visualize your tiny hand wrapped around him bringing him closer and closer. Can imagine how focused you are as you go between looking at his face and his cock. Can almost hear your voice in his ear when you tell him that he was so good, that he can cum.

He’s able to get out a choked, “Cumming, I’m cumming–” before finishes. His body convulses, curling in on himself a little more each time his cock jerks, shooting hot, thick stripes of white up his abs. His orgasm gives him that spacey high, makes him almost lightheaded from how satisfying it is.

But lately, getting off is nothing if not a routine.

Jeongguk feels a very specific and familiar type of heaviness as he pats around to find his briefs, does a half-assed job of cleaning himself up with them. Then he moves to the other side of his bed where the sheets are cooler and not damp with sweat. Cuts the routine short with a dry-swallowed sleeping pill.

~~~

hey... long time no see... am i right... anyway yeah im probably knocked out w a sleeping pill too right about neow bc i am sooo scared about posting this :)) gah v nervewracking i must say... ik it was a bit wordy but i just rly wanted to explain why jk did what he did n his thought process for it n yeah </3 hoping to have part 2 (oc pov/reconciliation <3) out in the next couple weeks, am like halfway done w it.... anyway i rly hope u liked it!! pls pls pls like, reblog, comment, send an ask if u did~~ eager to know what u guys thought n would love to hear from u okayyy bye!

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acowardinmordor · 1 year

Text

Thank christ everyone in Hawkins already thought he was a freak. Freezing mid-word in a monologue while the memory of his own failing pulse faded from his ears was exactly as weird as the fact that he was delivering the monologue from on top of a cafeteria table. The students who were ignoring him continued ignoring him. The ones paying attention waited for whatever dramatic continuation he’d have after a pause.

Eddie waited on the table, staring across the room to look at Chrissy Cunningham for a few seconds, then hopped down, speech abandoned, with scattered jokes in the room around him.

“Henderson,” he snapped as a summons, then headed for the exit.

“What was that dude? You were just getting going.”

“No talking.” He spun, holding up a finger dramatically. “Come with me, I need your brain.”

“In a zombie way or in a Dustin is Always Smarter than Me way?”

That didn’t get an answer, and Eddie didn’t speak again until he got to storage room off the stage, flipping on the red gelled lights, and closing the door.

“Alriiiiight. Ed, this is getting super weird now. You planning on explaining why I don’t get to finish lunch? You gonna talk before I miss class? I know you don’t care, but I actually go to my classes, it makes it much easier to pass them you know?”

Unusually still, Eddie slumped against the wall, and fiddled with his rings.

“Do you think if Frodo knew what it was going to cost to destroy the ring -- Before it started and Gandalf showed up. Like. If Frodo knew that it was -- Or, no, wait, if Sam knew what was going to happen, do you think he could have stopped it? Everything that went wrong?”

“Uhhhh. What? This is why we’re here? To talk about Lord of the Rings?”

“Just do your thing, Dusty-buns. Be the smart kid in the room. If Sam knew what was coming, could he have made it better?”

“Okay, you gotta stop getting high during school, dude, but sure, I can indulge your random thought exercise for a minute. I think if Sam knew what was coming, he wouldn’t have let Frodo leave the Shire. No hobbits in the Fellowship at all.”

Eddie winced. “Yeah, probably true. Sam was the smart one. But say he didn’t... run away. Say he wasn’t a coward about it. Could he fix things if he knew about stuff, or would trying make it worse?”

“Eddie,” Dustin prodded suspiciously, “Did you actually read your homework about Oedipus and now you’re trying to make it about a book you like? Wait. Are you trying to make me do your homework for you?”

“Just answer it, you brat. If he could change things, does he go all out? Explain it to Gandalf from the beginning? Make sure they skip Moria? Does he wait until the last minute so things don’t do the butterfly thing and he has more control to help? Does he practice with a sword or fight the barrow wights or make Elrond send Glorfindel with them? What would he -- what should he do? If he knew what was coming.”

An eye roll. Christ, the attitude on this kid.

“Dude, you’re weird today. This is for the campaign, isn't it? Great. But you know I’m going to figure out your surprise early because of this, and it’s going to ruin it for me. So you owe me big time. I want to roll with advantage the entire session today.”

Dustin paused to think, but the response came fast enough that he must have thought about it before.

“Your question doesn't really matter. If Sam knew what was coming for some reason, before it all started, then he already changed everything. It doesn’t matter if he wants to be subtle. He already started the butterfly effect. Just knowing it’s coming would make it all different even if he didn’t mean to change things. Sam would trust Strider sooner. He’d try to keep them safe in the Barrow Downs. Or, I don’t know man, he’d pack extra waterskins to make it easier to get across Mordor and that would slow him down and get him killed before they left the Shire.

“Or the other option: it’s like Oedipus, and everything he does to save them ends up changing nothing. Fate and shit. But you asked about what he should do, dude, so. That’s an easy answer. He has to try. No choice. Either he can make things better or he can't. But he has to try. Spiderman and Uncle Ben, that’s the answer to this ridiculous scenario,” Dustin finished with a shrug.

“That was talking about having super powers.”

“Uncle Ben was talking about everything. With great power…”

“Comes great responsibility,” Eddie finished.

“And knowledge is power. No choice.”

“So Sam Gamgee should just yell fuck it, and go all out, huh?” Eddie muttered, flopping himself into a sprawl over a musty chair.

“You really gotta stop getting high in the bathroom during second period, man.”

The red gel over the lights was to stop spill during shows. One of the bulbs was dying, and making the glow flicker a bit. Not lightning, no switch to creepy blue-grey in between, no bats screeching or flecks of death lingering in the air. A reminder though. Enough of one.

Dustin glanced at the flicker, and the flinch Eddie would have ignored a week ago made sense now that Eddie knew what could follow. The exasperated look, and the bit of indulgence as he let Eddie have his dramatics made the memory -- Memory? Vision? Prophecy? -- of Dustin sobbing above him a sharper contrast.

“You done?” Dustin asked, “cause I’m still hungry.”

Standing up, cracking his knuckles against his jaw, Eddie snagged the kid into a tight hug. “Ah my good young adventurer,” he said as he pulled away to hold him by the shoulders, “We’re just getting started.”

Pretending to be normal and giving a performance made his skin crawl, so he went back to a serious expression.

“Okay dude, seriously, what is wrong with you today?”

Christ, Dustin was going to be insufferable when he found out that he was Eddie’s first choice when he had a life altering crisis over a shift in his understanding of the universe. That he was where he went for advice. And that Eddie followed his advice. He was going to be awful, and Eddie really hoped he'd be around to suffer through it.

“Go tell Hellfire that tonight’s session is canceled.”

“What!?”

“Then grab Robin and find out if Steve is at work today.”

“WHAT? You don’t even like--”

“Then get your radio, get the rest of the party, and definitely get Max. We’re all ditching out the rest of the day. Meet me at my van. Nancy can take some of you. I’ll get the rest.”

“...Eddie?” Dustin’s voice wobbled a bit that time. He was starting to put it together.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie confirmed on a loud exhale. “I’ve gotta go talk to a cheerleader and try not to get punched because of it. You gotta get the others.”

“Eddie,” the plea, the denial in his voice was fucking painful.

“Sorry, buddy. It’s Code Red.”

Part Two>>

On Ao3

#eddie munson #time travel fix it #at least this one'll stay a ficlet #flip the board

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steves-strapcollection · 11 months

Note

47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.” 💕💕

YES! I'm still working on asks from THIS ask game, and I absolutely will be happy to receive more (since I'm using these prompts as exercises to write short shit without context to overcome my pathological need to write So Much Context)

[ NOW ON AO3 ]

There was something distinctly heartbreaking about playing wingman for the guy who made you believe in the entire concept of soulmates, Eddie thinks as he leans against the trunk of Steve Harrington's Beemer. It's not even that he thinks they're soulmates, but what the dude has with Robin is really convincing. And maybe Eddie is pretty sure Steve is his soulmate, even platonically, even if that thought makes his pining ass want to vomit.

He refuses to pine after a straight man for eternity, and yet...

What's stupid is that Eddie is a shit wingman, so it doesn't even make sense that Steve keeps taking him out with him to bars and shit. Half the women that wanted to even approach Steve were afraid of Eddie, and the other half were fucking mean to him which lost Steve's favour immediately which... hey, Eddie couldn't complain too much about that.

But still, that meant that Steve was striking out every single time and Eddie was feeling bad about it because he was happy about it. He got to spend a whole evening with Steve and sometimes they would spend the night together because Eddie's place was closer and Steve was too tired to drive all the way home. Eddie could pretend this was a real date, that Steve Harrington was dating him.

Jesus H. Christ, he was pathetic.

Steve sighs next to him. "Why is this so hard?" he asks, and at Eddie's questioning look, Steve elaborates, "Dating, getting laid, whatever you wanna call it?"

Eddie huffs a laugh, and shrugs. "Well, I mean, I think I've got it worse in that department, Stevie," he mutters, taking a drag of his cigarette. Steve's known about him being gay for months now, which makes it even more wild that the man still shared a bed with him and took him out to bars almost every Friday night. Tossing his cigarette onto the asphalt and stubbing it out with his boot, Eddie asks, "What are you even looking for?"

Steve pauses, staring at the ground. "Someone who makes me happy, who gets me, who wants to be with me, the real me, y'know?" he asks without even looking at Eddie, which is good because Eddie's sure the way his heart was breaking would be visible from fucking outer space.

Me, that's me, Stevie. Choose me. That's what Eddie wants to say, to shout and scream and even stomp his feet a bit because it's not fucking fair. He's all those things and more and he wanted to be that for Steve.

"Think you might be putting too high of standards too early on these poor girls, Stevie," Eddie laughs instead, grinning crookedly over at Steve and stopping short at the intense gaze being leveled back at him.

"See, that's the thing, Eds. I'm starting to think I've been looking for that in all the wrong places," Steve says seriously, shifting so he's standing in front of Eddie.

And Eddie is sure he's dreaming. He's actually fast asleep and he's going to wake up literally any second and this was all just some terrible dream thought up by his awful, gay, pining, stupid brain. Because it actually sounds like Steve, the love of Eddie's life, is about to confess something huge to him.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie croaks out before clearing his throat, glancing at Steve's lips before meeting his eyes.

"I've always had these big dreams about my life, what it'd look like if I wanted to be happy, and before I always thought of these grand things that involve a wife and a whole pack of kids," Steve says and Eddie feels his already shattered heart break even more.

Eddie manages to laugh, though, even if what he really wants is to crawl into bed and cry. "Okay, so now you're raising the bar even higher on these poor girls?" Eddie asks, shoving Steve's shoulder with his fist.

Steve isn't swayed. "You don't get it, Eds, that's not what I want anymore," he says, running his hands back through his hair. "That isn't what I imagine when I think about being happy."

"Then what do you imagine?" Eddie asks because, apparently, he's a huge fucking masochist.

"Eds... you're really going to make me say it out loud?" Steve asks, almost teasingly, and then he steps just a little bit closer.

Eddie's heart stops, once again struck by how not real this has to be. "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to say it with your outside voice, Stevie," Eddie says. "I'm not a mind reader."

Steve sighs heavily and puts his hands on his hips as he visibly considers his next words carefully. Something comes over his expression that takes Eddie's breath away, something fierce and brave and beautiful, and now the full force of it was turning on him when Steve's eyes meet his.

"When I picture myself happy," Steve starts, stepping close enough that the heat radiating off of him begins to warm Eddie's chilled skin. Steve lifts a hand to cup Eddie's jaw as he says, "It's with you, Eds."

Eddie blinks owlishly at Steve. "What?"

"I think I'm--I've been into you for months, and when you came out to me I got so hopeful, like I actually maybe stood a chance, which is obviously stupid. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you're into me but still," Steve rambles a bit as Eddie tries to form a coherent thought. Steve chews on his bottom lip and asks, "Eds? What do you--is this, like, okay?"

Eddie slaps himself in the face, just hard enough to sting, and Steve jumps.

"Eddie, what the hell?" Steve asks, bewildered.

"Sorry, just checking that I'm not dreaming. Pinching wouldn't've been enough to wake me up from a dream this good," Eddie breathes, twisting his hand in the front of Steve's polo and pulling him close. "You mean that, Stevie? You want me?"

"More than I've wanted anything in my life," Steve confesses easily, and he stumbles when Eddie gently shoves him back.

"Then take me home and we can make out about it in private, yeah?" Eddie suggests, grinning as he scrambles to get into the passenger seat of the Beemer.

When Steve gets into the car, he's grinning, and Eddie leans across the center console. "One kiss for the road?" he asks, batting his lashes up at Steve.

"Absolutely," Steve agrees, and then their mouths slotted together perfectly, like they were made to be kissing each other all along.

And yeah, Eddie was really starting to believe in soulmates actually...

Thank you again for sending me this ask!!! Send me more of these fun prompts? Also, if you like my writing, please consider checking out writing blog -> @gerrystamour

#steddie #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #gerry writes #gerry drabbles

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batmanego · 1 year

Text

SO YOU'RE TIRED OF BATMAN: AN INTRODUCTORY GUIDE TO DC SUPERHEROES

one of the most common things i hear when trying to get people to read comics is that they're just not that into batman. which boggles my mind! not because i'm a huge batman fan -- which i am, but i can understand why people might not be interested in his comics -- but because it's insane to me that batman (or superman, or wonder woman, or any other dc superhero they've made a movie about) is people's default perception of dc superheroes.

there's a whole world out there! and if you're intimidated by the big superheroes, or uninterested in their stories, or even if you like them but you're looking for something different, this is the guide for you. without further ado, i present:

DC MINUS THE BIG THREE: A FIELD GUIDE FOR THE DISENCHANTED AND DISINTERESTED

DOOM PATROL (1987)

to nobody's surprise, doom patrol is first on my list of recommendations. it's a comic book about a group of disabled people who have been labeled freaks, weirdos, or otherwise undesirable by society, coming together to save a world that doesn't care about them because there has to be beauty in it somewhere.

good for: well, i'll let the introduction quote do the talking. “remember when all the other kids on the block had superman and batman as positive role modes? well, if you could only identify with a human brain in a metal body or a guy wrapped up in bandages, and if you grew up weird, welcome home. you’re among friends now.”

read doom patrol here. trigger warnings for: ableism, child sexual abuse, medical abuse, transphobia.

2. HELLBLAZER (1988) BUT ONLY THE FIRST 41 ISSUES OK?

hellblazer is a 300 issue long comic book, mostly comprised of dogshit stories by dogshit writers. i am recommending it because i genuinely think the first 41 issues are art. please do not do as i did and read all of hellblazer. you won't survive the experience. ok? ok.

hellblazer is a comic about aging punk magician/occultist john constantine trying desperately to sort out his life in late 80s london while constantly being beset by poor life choices, poverty, and also lots and lots and lots and lots of demons.

good for: punks, anarchists, fans of the occult, enemies of aleister crowley, anyone who has a personal vendetta against margaret thatcher.

read hellblazer here, BUT STOP READING AFTER THE FIRST 41 ISSUES OK? trigger warnings for: literally almost everything you can imagine, but specifically discussions of child sexual abuse are prominent in the original sins run. also, it was written by a white man in the 80s, so it suffers from "white man in the 80s" syndrome.

3. WILDCATS (1999)

"FERRIS", some of you comic book knowers cry, "WILDCATS IS WILDSTORM NOT DC". to that i say Shut the fuck up DC acquired the rights to the wildstorm universe it's close e-fucking-nough.

wildcats 1999 is about cole cash (a conman and ex-special ops man), hadrian 7 (an alien robot posing as a human named jack marlowe), and noir (a bisexual ex-arms dealer from france who talks in the third person) picking up the pieces of the OLD wildcats team after they all found out they were soldiers in a war that ended before most of them were born and nobody bothered to tell them, and trying to 1) run a company and 2) save the world.

good for: people who hate the military, tacky sci-fi fans, anyone who wishes guys would suck more, anyone interested in the horrors of war.

read wildcats 1999 here.

4. SLEEPER

"ferris i want to leave wildstorm" too fucking bad. we're talking about sleeper right now.

sleeper is about holden carver, an undercover agent in the world's largest underground crime organization/network, who gets stuck undercover when his handler (the only guy who knows he's undercover and not just a traitor) gets shot and put in a coma. it is about grappling with your own morality, losing faith in your ideals, and (like most wildstorm properties), how war is a pointless exercise in horror.

good for: fans of spy thrillers, evil women enjoyers, evil men enjoyers, anyone who has ever thought they could make someone worse, people who want bad things to happen to people in power.

read sleeper season 1 here, and then sleeper season 2 here. trigger warnings for pedophilia (the pedophile gets beat to death in issue 2), homophobia, and child abuse.

5. THE AUTHORITY (1999)

stop crying we're almost done with wildstorm. the authority is a comic book about 6 super-people (who are very loose parodies of the justice league) forming a self-described "anarchist cell" to operate against the wishes and outside the influence of earth's governments to defend the planet against extraterrestrial threats and handle human rights violations.

good for: political science fans, good sci-fi enjoyers, people who think batman and superman should have kissed instead of making a million movies, people in polyamorous six-ples.

read the authority here. trigger warning for "this writer probably shouldn't have written this asian nation like this", homophobia, sexual abuse.

6. SUICIDE SQUAD (1987)

hey, remember how i was talking about wildcats? imagine the same sort of themes of wildcats (the horrors of war, the effects of being in the military, american imperialism, what it means to be a hero or even a good person), and then apply them to the worst group of people you've ever had the displeasure of being in the same room as, and they all fucking hate each other. suicide squad is about a bunch of incarcerated villains being "recruited" (forced) into working hero-missions for the government, because nobody will miss them if they die.

good for: villain apologists, people who (in the immortal words of hack/slash) think "there just aren't enough big mean women in comics", and this guy:

[ID: a comment on read comics online by “the king of anime” reading, “I want to give this a try would it be worth it”. end ID.]

read suicide squad here. trigger warning for, again "white man in the 80s syndrome", along with... probably pretty much everything else imaginable (it's been a while since i read this!)

7. STARMAN (1994)

starman is a story told with the drama of a theater production about jack knight, a late-20s to early-30s punk antiques dealer who gets the mantle of starman (a well-known superhero from the golden age) thrust upon him suddenly. it is a story about legacy, family duties, identity, and most importantly about being kind of a loser who gets shot at all the fucking time.

good for: sci-fi fans who are too proud to admit they also like fantasy, rock opera listeners, family disappointments, single fathers.

read starman here. trigger warning for sexual assault.

8. ARKHAM CITY: THE ORDER OF THE WORLD (2021)

"ferris you said no batman" i did. i did not say no batman villains.

arkham city: the order of the world focuses on some of batman's lesser-known foes, and the fallout of arkham asylum collapsing. i can't really explain it more than that, but it is good and legitimately unnerving at times.

good for: horror fans, enemies of the psychiatric system, villain enjoyers, people who live in new york city.

read arkham city: the order of the world here.

9. THE SHADE (1997) and THE SHADE (2012)

hey, remember starman? want a series about the old immortal victorian man with an "ambiguous sexuality" from it? okay. the shade (1997) follows his origins: specifically, his long-standing beef with one specific family. the shade (2012) is a sort of cross-country whodunnit as the shade tries to track down who is trying (and failing) to murder him.

good for: bisexual enjoyers, dramatic theater kids, vampire fans, goths, people who would have fucked lord byron given the opportunity.

read the shade (1997) here, and the shade (2012) here.

10. METAL MEN (2007)

lastly (but not least), a comic featuring will magnus from doom patrol. metal men (2007) is... a complicated story. it's about robots? it's about being mentally ill. it's about a guy who is so divorced forever. it's about being a little loser guy. it's about time travel, and terrible relationships with your brother. it's hard to describe. but it's fun.

good for: bad sci-fi enjoyers, people who can understand the timeline of looper, robot fans, anyone who has ever been consumed by a desire to create.

read metal men (2007) here.

BONUS:

not included in this list because batman is there, i encourage everyone to have a look at the original justice league international series. it is a superhero comedy. it is silly and stupid and i love it.

OKAY, THAT'S ALL! THANKS FOR READING!

#ferris reading list #comic recommendations #HOO BOY!

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vitzi9 · 9 months

Note

hii, you could write more about yandere-obsessive ethan who likes to ruin the relationships (whether romantic and friendship) of the reader, because he likes to have her all to himself😇

You ruined everything !

Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things. Sequel (?) Of the draft But you said it was free !

TW/CW: kinda bad friends, forced kiss/contact so agression, reader is really vulgar and curse a lot, breaking in, voyeursim.

Sarah and Connor are your friends. I invented them for the plot.

This look shitty compared to everything I wrote until now, but like really. I feel like there is too much dialogue. Seriously, if you have any constructive criticism i take it, i dont know what to change, what to imrove. I need feedback to improve. I have the impression it's too repetitive. (21/07/2023) (6168 words)

Ethan Landry kissed you. You couldn't quite proceed the information even hours later. You were reading in the peacefulness of the library and Ethan Landry sat on your thights and kissed you right before your crush's eyes.

They saw everything and were now avoiding you.

It was hours ago, now, still, you didn't go to your next class after that. You spent a hour searching for your crush. You called them mutilples times on your phone and yet they never answered. What is going on ? You kept asking yourself. Wanting to calm down, you scurried in the school's bathroom. There shouldn't be a lot of people at this hour of the day. This way, you could think of what to tell your crush.

Is that an agression ? It should be, one, right ? He kissed you withtout your consent so it probably is.

You push the door and sigh from happiness in seeing you were alone. You wet your hands under the faucet and throw the water at your face to freshen up. It felt good to not be burning from the inside anymore. You were thinking so much you were sure your brain would explode.

You lean your hands on the sink tightly, holding you up right. Your eyes were closed, feeling each drop of water sliding down your face. You needed to be calm.

You practice breath exercises to release the pressure. It's gonna be okay, you rationalize. You'll talk it out. Yeah, they don't want to see you anymore but you'll convince them. You've been talking for months ! They'll believe you.

You look at yourself in the bathroom's mirror and sigh deeply. Ethan Landry, if you catch him, he's a dead man. You close your eyes once again before deciding to wet your face one more time. It felt really good. You wetted your neck too to cool your body.

For a short moment, you forget about the big argument you'll inevitably have with your crush. It was a short moment because while you were in your own world, someone entered the bathroom and two big arms caged you against a warm body.

You're startled, jumping away from the person but they tighten their hold. Looking in the mirror, you're met with the face of Ethan, laying his forehead against your neck as if stealing the humidity of your freshly wet body.

You push him away. He finally lets you go with a scowl on his face. The audactiy ! He's the one fucking assaulting you and then he pretends to be disappointed !

"What is wrong with you ! you yell.

First the kiss and now that ? He fidgets with his hands, as if nervous and you don't understand why.

-You looked sad, I just wanted to... you cut him off.

-Sad ? I'm gonna kill you !"

He frowns his brows and shake his head. Suddenly looking very serious.

-I don't want to argue with you." he says. With these last words, Ethan leave the bathroom to avoid any argument. Enraged, you follow him. He was fast so you pratically ran after him. When you arrive at his side you push him violently to the side. He stops in his tracks but doesn't move.

"Look at me !" but he doesn't listen and keep his eyes on the ground.

To force him, you pin him against the wall. Normally, you wouldn't be able to pin him like you did as Ethan is quite tall and heavy. But he was submissive to your touch. He was allowing you to do everyting you wanted. That was gross, he really was weird.

"You're gonna tell me what is your problem and why do you want to destroy my life so damn hard ?

-I don't want to destroy your life. I want to make it better.

-Better ? Do you think it looks fucking better ? Because I'm sure it doesn't !"

Ethan looks over your shoulder and smile. You can't understand anything before he closes his arms around your body and engulfes you in his body. You were going to yell at him when his lips shut you up.

He's doing it again !

His hands roam your back slowly, grazing too closely your ass to your liking. You try to make him let you go by pushing at his chest but he doesn't budge. You thought he was lanky and yet, he's built like a damn fridge !

Suddenly, Ethan smiles against your lips and lift you up in the air. His hand lays now completly flat on your ass while the other is supporting your legs from below. You place your hand around his neck to push him and you hear a light whimper coming out of his throat. It surprise you for a second and it allows him to stick out his tongue to lick your lower lip. When he parts away from you, you feel like you want to throw up.

"Wow, okay, you're really going at it..." you hear someone say in your back and Ethan puts you on the ground gently, you wipe his saliva off your mouth in disgust. You know it's Connor talking, your friend, and you hate that he saw you like that.

Ethan sends you a little smile, cheeks red. Acting as if you were just two lovers kissing lovingly. Acting shy as if everything was normal. You don't even know what to say. Curse him ? It excite him. Yell at him ? Same. Tell others ? Nobody believe you.

Looking beside Connor, you see Sarah. Another of your good friend. Fuck, you think. They'll think I'm horrible for kissing Ethan in a situation like this where I'm supposed to fight to gain back my crush's trust.

"I swear it's not... you start but are quickly shut off when Ethan interrups you with a big stupid smile.

-Hi, I'm Ethan. You're Sarah and Connor, right ? I've heard a lot about you. I'm their boyfriend.

Both of your friends look at each other in surprise. Even confusion. For a second, you're stunned. Astonished by the audactiy of this man. In what world is he your boyfriend ? He's not even your friend ! How can he lie straight at the face of someone ? When you see the way your friends look at you, you rush to deny his words.

-No he's absolutely not. Stop lying to others, damn it ! He's not my boyfriend, he's nothing !

-Oh." he simply says, as if he's the victim here.

Ethan smiles to your friends in an embarrassed way. Uneasy at the idea of being humiliated before them. Then, he looks at the ground, his hand scratch his neck. He pursues his lips and nod. You know he's putting an act. He's a liar.

"Oh please ! Stop pretending you're the victim here !" you say, rage drooling from your words.

Ethan gives you and your friends a last sad face for you all to pity him and then he leaves slowly. You'll deal with him later. When you stare at your friends, one is disappointed and the other is angry.

"Why are you so mean ?

-Mean ? you ask sartically. I'm not mean. He's a liar, that's what I'm trying to tell you ! He pretends to be a victim when I'm the one who got assaulted. I never wanted to kiss that guy and I wever will.

Connor do not seem to believe you and your heart break. He shakes his head slowly, as if telling 'that's enough' but you're not lying.

-He forced me to kiss him. Okay ? You know I'm not a cheater." you add, in a much more desperate tone.

Sarah looks at the path Ethan took earlier to leave with a sad face. No, you think. Not her, too. She doesn't believe you. You feel as if a bubble is stuck in your throat and with one word, it could explode and you with it.

"It's just... she trails her eyes to yours and gulp. If you wanted to be with someone else, you could have at least told them, you know ? says Sarah, referencing to your crush. It's really mean. You talked to them for months and suddenly, you're all over that boy.

She looks well too affected for you to think that's the only problem.

-Connor, man, you believe me, right ? you almost beg, no, in fact, you were begging. They were you friends for god sake. They should help you !

-I don't recognize you anymore. You're ruining everything you have.

-What? you say. What do you mean you don't recognize me ? I never changed ?

Your eyes dart from him to Sarah fervently. Are they hiding something ? Because it sure look like they do. Usually, they'd believe you. Why can't they trust your words ?

-Ethan did nothing wrong, he didn't know you were talking to someone else. You shouldn't hurt his feelings. The damage is done, yelling at him won't do anything. You already cheated on him.

Both of them were accusing you at the same time, you couldn't defend yourself, you were overwhelmed. You were felling betrayed. You immediatly thought; did Ethan lied to them already ? Making them believe he was the nice guy ?

-What ? You believe him? You never saw me talk to him, I never talked to you about him ! Don't you find it strange ? He's no one, I have no idea why he's doing that, okay ? I'm innocent. I never cheated on anyone. Why won't you trust me ?

And just like that, the argument flipped.

-Don't act innocent, okay ? snap Connor. You act like you don't remember ! But we didn't forget. All the creepy videos and photos, all the insults you texted us !

You frown, body freezing. Now what is it about ? You open and close your mouth like a fish, trying to find an answer to something you have no idea what it means.

-What ? I have no idea what you're...

-You don't remember, huh ? Yeah, of course. You critized my man, you critized the whole group. Why do you think they avoid you ? You put on display every one of our personal problem. You didn't need to tell everyone his dad was alcoholic !

Who's alcoholic ? What the hell is he talking about ?

To say you were clueless would be an euphemism. You try to remember saying all of this but nothing come to your mind. You even try to remember if you ever got so drunk alone that you'd send that, but you're sure you haven't. Hell, drunk or not, there is no you'd insult your friends !

-No, no I-I didn't. I'd never...

What they were accusing you of was much bigger now. Cheating was a thing you already could hardly support being accused of, but insulting your friends ? Your best friends who's been here for years ?

-Shut it. We get it now. We're stupid for staying with you in the first place.

Sarah had her eyes stuck to the ground when she finally speaks.

-You sent videos of us. you frown, not quite understanding but your attention fully on her. It gave the creep to everyone. It was videos, in the night. And it looked like you were hiding in my closet, it was my exact room. And I was sleeping and you could see me... and then she burst in tears. How did you get in ? Why did you film me ? That's not funny...

-You did that shit to everyone. Fuck, you don't even have the adress of some of us.

-But I've never...

But then you remember you got kicked from the group. Without any reason. Your friends were still in it, often talking about the converstion they had and laughing at you, saying how you're always reading the messages withtout even interacting with them. But you weren't in the group anymore. So you can't have been the one reading, much less sending videos.

-Sarah and I stayed because we thought you got hacked or something. And we really thougth you were since you never mentionned any of these damn videos.

Who the fuck broke in your friends room ? Who the fuck hacked your phone ? This situation is going too far, it's much more chaotic than you thought. They're accusing you of a literal crime ! Breaking in your friends house ! And filming them ! What didn't they tell you about it ? By telling you sooner, you'd have rassured them! Now it's too late and everything is thrown on you.

-But you just keep doing weird shits.

Connor shakes his is head. He's about to leave, you know it. He steps back progressively. You'll be alone. You don't want them to leave with the idea of you being a creep.

-You're scaring me." says Sarah.

She looks like she wants to tell you a last thing but Connor drags her away without looking at you. And just like that, you lost your two last friends.

You start to lose hope. Knowing nobody believe you. But then, you remember your crush does not know your version. You need to find them, and quick before Landry find them first.

You knew each other very well, you talked for months after all. They'll trust you, well, at least they'll listen to you. You know it. They were your last hope. By having their trust, your friends would listen to you. And you'll finally explain yourself, making them understand Landry was the problem.

You run in the hallways, looking in every corner. You thought about calling their name out loud but as they're avoiding you, they'll probably just go in the opposite direction of your voice.

You can't find them, but then you remember that by the time, they left their last class of the day. You run up to the said room and search around to find them. Finally, you see their head in the crowd. You run up to them, calling their name. They continue on walking, ignoring you.

"Please let me explain !

Relenctuly, your crush stops in the hallway. You scurry to them, awaiting the moment when they'll face you. Slowly, they turn their front to you. Everything in you crumble at the sight of you crush satring at you with so much sadness in the eyes.

-I can explain, you start. I... and you realize you have no idea what you're supposed to say. I don't know him? I just... I swear I have no idea why he did that ! I barely know his face ! I'd never do something like that to you, you know I really like you.

-Oh, yes, of course. So he just came by surprise and kissed you just for the fun of it, right ?

-Yes, actually. That's exactly what he did.

They'll never believe you. This is too stupid to believe. You look like a cheater caught red handed. You have no idea what to say, just now realizing the stupidity of the situation.

-Listen, they sigh, I'm gonna be honest with you. your heart crack at their words. You know it's too late. I wanted to believe you were a good person, you know ? I talked to Ethan.

-I don't know what he told you, but I swear, do not believe him. they smile sadly.

-I don't know who to believe anymore. you try to speak up but they interrupt you by continuing. Ethan told me he didn't know you were talking to me. He said both of you were already a thing.

And your world crumble. Landry, the guy you barely remember the face of, told your crush you were cheating on them. Landry, the guy who blush when the teacher compliment him, lied about you. Landry, the fucking nerd you forgot was existing until two hours ago was sabotaging your life.

-I didn't understand, because he told me you were together for a really long time. they laugh bitterly and you watch as their eyes water. He even told me you two were just friends and you're the one who asked him to be your boyfriend. And he looked so shy about it, like he was really confesssing a part of his life. they pass their hand on their eyes to try and dry them, in vain. And yet, here you are, telling me he's lying. What the hell is going on ?

The problem is that you're as lost as them, you have no clue what's going on.

-I'd never cheat on you. I really like you and-and I don't know what's the problem with him. suddenly, an idea appear in your head. You can check my phone ! You'll see I never talked to him. I don't even have his number to begin with. You can check everything, message, calls and even my social medias!

Finally, you'd prove he was a big liar to them.

Frantically, you open your bag and start searching inside. Your crush laugh sadly.

-It's no need. He showed me pictures of you two.

Now, you didn't understand. You never talked to him outside of school, hell, you never talked to him inside ! What photos could he have ? Did he photoshopped you ? That's some fucked up behaviour.

-He had plenty of it. Pictures where you were in your room and you were sleeping on him and all. It hurt. It hurt really bad.

That was another level of scary. That man hated you so much he spent hours photoshopping picture of you ? Still, it was deeply disturbing. Where did he find pictures of you to begin with ? And in your room that is ? Because your crush already been in your room so they know what it look like, but Ethan ? How does Ethan know your room ?

-Ethan has never even seen my building. That wasn't me. you realize you sound just like a cheater and cringe. Because you were denying everything when all the proofs proved you wrong. But you were innocent ! This whole situation was infuriating.

They scoff. You feel like you're losing them, and you are. Your last hope is your phone, and yet, you can't find it. You empty your bag on the floor, completly panicked. Every pocket is empty of your device. You search in your clothes but can't find it either. You start to freak out.

-I... I don't know where it is but... you're out of breath you don't even know why but you are. you try to remember where did your phone go and only remember putting it in your pant's pocket. I probably dropped it somewhere, fuck, I'm...

-No need to lie to me, I guess I was stupid.

It's like seeing the last grains of sand falling from the hourglass.

-No, no ! I swear I have my phone it's just... Maybe it fell or something. I, I'll find it. Follow me, we'll find it and...

-Please. they say. It's too late, okay ? Stop lying to me. I don't want us to end like that.

-I don't want us to end."

They don't even answer. Simply smiling at you, eyes full of tears and trembling lips. You look at them, pleading and full of hope but they turn their back to you and walk in the opposite direction. You're frozen. Staring at their back in the distance, you fell on the ground. Surrounded by the content of your bag which you threw without any care.

You want to cry, yet, you can't. Maybe because you're still in a public area. Maybe because you're embarrassed. You don't know. What are you supposed to do now ? You don't have friends anymore. You pass your hand on your face to try and ease the tension. You at least need to find your phone.

Walking in the hallway, you stumble across one of your old friend. One that Connor said had ended your relationship because of 'your' weird texts. Maybe you can ask her if she saw your phone somewhere. And even if she didn't, which is probably the case, you can still try to befriend her again ? You tap on her shoulder, smiling lightly.

"Hey, I just wanted to... you barely started that she cuts you off harshly.

-Don't try and talk to me after what you did ! Can I know why the fuck would you tell my boyfriend that I'm cheating on him? What the hell? What did I do to you?

-What? Listen, I lost my phone and...

-I don't know what's gotten into you lately but I won't be there to figure it out with you. I'm tired." and she left. You're left speechless, in the middle of the hallway, mouth open. Thats was quick.

You sigh and leave for the opposite direction. Great, another accusation coming from out of nowhere. It's the second time today. You only want this day to end. But your phone is still missing. Who knows who has it right now ? You hope no one.

You have to go back to your previous class to see if your phone is in there. You might even understand what she meant by telling you you sent a message to her boyfriend. Seriously though, she believes it ? Why would you do that ? You didn't even know she had a boyfriend.

When you arrive, everyone already left. You walk to the row you were seated at and start looking under every table, then, to the row above and the one below. Still, you can't find your phone. You seriously hope you didn't drop it in the hallway.

When you're done searching, you back off, wanting to search in the hallway again. But when you do, someone is already at the door, looking at you. Of crouse, it's him. You scoff. How long has this idiot been standing there ?

You were already annoyed, having spent the worst day of your life. And he was here again to worsen it.

"Hey... he tries.

-Oh no, no, no ! You get the fuck out of here ! I'm not talking to you. you prepare to leave.

Ethan is quick to stop you. Placing himself before the exit so you wouldn't leave. So you wouldn't leave him. You try to bypass him but he doesn't allow you. You groan out of frustration. What's retaining you from strangling him right now ?

-Even if I found something of yours ?

Was he bluffing ? You couldn't tell. His expressions always were unreadable. Ethan was showing you what he wanted and that only. He was too good of an actor for you to identify him, for you to decipher him. What even was he ? A damn serial killer ? How is he always one step ahead from you ! That was so frustrating !

Even though you were hesitating, he had your whole attention on him. He smiles maliciously and grab your phone from his pocket. You freeze. He had your phone. Him. Him ! He stole it !

-You dropped it earlier, you cut him off right away.

-I didn't. And you know it. he stays silent, you stare straight into his eyes, trying to understand his way of thinking. But he's too fucked up for you to undestand anything. You're the one who sent a message to her boyfriend, are you ?

You don't even need to precise whom you're talking about. He already know it. He ruined every one of your relationships. You're alone, now. Isn't he happy ? Isn't it what he wanted ?

-I didn't send anything to anyone. I just found it on the ground.

-You're a liar. You're a fucking liar.

You were going crazy. How many times is he going to lie straight to you face again ? How many times is he going to lie to everyone ? How many fucking times is he going to ruin your life ?

You push him on the chest with all your strenght, he steps back a little but your little fight does not affect him much. You push him again, again and again until he grabs your wrists to calm you down.

-Let me go ! you yell.

-Please..." he starts but you pull multiples times your arms harshly from him trying to gain your liberty back.

He looks around him to see if someone is there to see this scene. You struggle to get out of his hold and eventually, you do. You put a large distance between the both of you, staring at him from far away, you caress your bruised wrists.

-Why are you doing this ? What did I do to you ! your eyes were full of rage but also fear. You feared him because so far, he revealed he always was a step ahead of you.

-But, love, I just...

-Don't fucking call me love ! you spit at him, disgust lacing your words. The hell is wrong with you ?

-Please, don't yell at me. he simply says.

You rush to him and snatch harshly the phone from his hands, without looking at him, you hurry to leave the room. Fortunatly, he never tried to grab you.

When you got home this day, your crush blocked you everywhere, same for your friends. And when you looked at your numbers, Ethan Landry's was there. A single text was sent from him, a single and pitiful "I'm sorry".

The next day to school was your last as you quitted everything. You dropped your studies and stopped going into class. The pressure was too much. Somehow, one of your 'friend' told everyone you stalked them, they told everyone you hid in their closet to film them. Each time you were walking, breathing, you were stared at.

You were the creep everyone pointed at, laughed at.

So you just quit. You could have been more combatant if you had support, if you had friends behind you to watch your back. But you don't. You'll probably go back to your parent's town, make a sabbatical year or two and eventually continue your class later.

You sigh and put your clothes. You thought a nice shower would calm your nerve, sadly it didn't. Hunger was not your problem anymore as you didn't eat of the day, not feeling the need to. You jump on your bed, facing the ceiling.

Your head was empty of thoughts. You were just staring.

Someone rings at your door and you don't bother go up to see. You're not even bothered when five minutes later, a tall man enters you room, smiling lightly. It's him, again. Of course it's him. It always is. Again because you know this isn't the first time he entered your flat. You don't have proofs. You just know it.

And there is high odds he's the one breaking in your friend's house. So you're not surprised to see him here when he finally won. He came to see the damage he's done. To laugh a bit and enjoy the view.

His heavy body seems heavier at each one of his step. What was he going to do, this time ? You don't bother looking at him when he stops at the end of your bed. For a few minutes, none of you say a thing. Him, eyes glued to you and you to the ceiling. It's when he sighs (to catch your attention) that you talk.

"I'm alone, now. Happy ?

You were just jaded. Not angry anymore. Because it was well too late, your life was already wrecked. You could never find your friends back, you could never make yourself a new reputation. Since he doesn't answer you, you reluctantly sit up. His bright smile was all you needed to see to know the answer. You scoff and dive back in your bed.

-Nice, good to know my misfortune make your happiness.

Silence.

-You ruined everything. I don't have friends nor lover anymore. That's what you wanted, right ? You're gonna tell me why you did all that, now ?

Ethan giggles.

-I thought you would have figured it out by now.

-Well, I didn't. you answer coldly.

Ethan smiles and walks to your nightstand. He pushes the lamp on it to sit on the furniture. Your eyes were still on the ceiling, you didn't want to see him.

-You're so, so pretty. his voice was smooth and as light as a whisper.

-And that's why you ruined my whole life ? you deadpan, facing him. when you turned your head, his eyes were already on yours.

Ethan chuckles, looking to the ground. He shrugs, running his fingers in the curls falling on his forehead. You think he's blushing, but it's quite hard to know when his head is lowered like this.

He's a coward, now that you think about it. He anger you and when you scream at him, he begs for you to no yell at him. He stares at you and when you stare back, he's suddenly all shy. You seriously have no idea what this man wants.

-Well, that can be considered as part of it. and he was bashful saying it, too. In his sick mind, he probably thinks he's flirting with you.

-I hope I become the ugliest person in the world in my next life, then. you chuckle dryly.

-It doesn't matter. You'll still be the beautifulest... you cut him off.

-Yeah, yeah, shut up. Why are you even here ? you wanted to be agressive, to show him you were still strong. When in reality, you were all bark and no bite. A few days ago, you'd have fought him. Now, you miss the strength to do so.

He hit so suddenly and hard when you least expected it, you couldn't retort. It just... killed you. Without you even understanding who, how and why. In one single day, you lost everything because of him. He had it all planned.

-I just wanted to see you.

-Who the fuck are you exactly ?

He stays silent. You grab a pillow and throw it at his face, he catchs it right before it hit him. You snap your fingers to his face to make him react. To no avail.

-Landry, who the fuck you truly are ?

And finally, he reacts.

-My name's Ethan. he said sternly. Not Landry, don't call me like that. You call me Ethan.

And with one sentance, he made you understand you were playing with fire. With one sentance, he regains his power over you. His tone was demanding. It wasn't an offer, it was an order, you call him Ethan and that's it, no discussion.

This time, it could be your fault. You were too confident, you thought you knew him when in reality you had still no idea what he was capable of. He put you back in your place and you hated it. You hated him. You gulp, trying to find your words back after such a reversal of power. If you can even call it that, as you realised he's the one giving you power and he can take it back at any moment. You never really were in control.

-Well, Ethan, you insisted on his name too much for it to be natural but he didn't say anything, what do you want from me ?

He smiles and shrug. In his head, you asked him a simple question. One as simple as do you wanna go out this week-end or what did you do yesterday. But for you, it was much deeper. You wanted, needed to know why he did all of that. You were desperate, you were lost.

-Nothing, why? You wanted to give me something ? and he was candid about it, too.

You're sure he's just humiliating you at this point. He's savoring the imbalance of power between you. There was no other reason as to why he acted so casual.

-It is my fault ? you ask with a shaky voice which you dispised yourself for letting slide.

You were fucking tired of his playing. You wanted to know and he was telling nothing ! He already ruined everything ! You couldn't cry for help even with proof ! It was too late. Why doesn't he want to tell you his motive ?

-No, why would you... was it true sadness or a fake one ? you can't even tell.

-Did I do something to you ?

-No, never, I know you'd never...

I know, he says. But what does he know ? How does he know ? And why does he know you so well when you barely recognize his face ? Why do you know nothing ?

-Then why ? Why are you doing this ? he frowns, his shy demeanor gone as he stares into your eyes with a confident posture.

-I don't like the way you talk to me. I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to blame me. Both of us did nothing wrong.

-Both of us ? you laugh hysterically, sensing your last working brain cells going crazy, tears brim at your eye line, from sadness ? laugh? frustration? I did nothing wrong ! I wouldn't say the same for you !

-Don't accuse me. he says ternly. It's your fault, I sent you plenty of signs and you never came talk to me.

-What fucking signs ? you scream. You're imagining things ! You imagined everything ! Why would I ever want to talk to you ? You are crazy ! Do you fucking understand ?

-I am not ! I am not crazy and you're gonna be in love with me ! We are supposed to be together !

With his words, you calm down. Realization settling in your brain. Everything suddenly become clear. Yeah, this makes sense, after all. All the lying saying you were together, it was for him.

-Is that what is this about ? a single tear slide down your face. Is it really, now ? You're just fucking desperate for a relationship? you take a shaky breath. We'll never be together, Landry. Never, you hear me ? You're fucked up.

His eyes are empty as he looks down at you. You're reminded how dangerous this man can be. How little you know of him. And you're scared to be alone with him.

-I don't think you can really say that, sweetheart. I am capable of things you're yet to discover. I modified your life for it to let me in, I'll modify your fate as many times as I need to for you to love me.

-My friends had nothing to do with it...

-But they do, in fact, had everything to do with it, my love. he tilts his head to the right and look at you like you're a damn child getting grounded. I don't have friends, why would you have some ? Most of them didn't really like you anyway. They never tried to understand why you suddenly stopped talking in the group chat. They didn't even notice when I was the one talking instead of you. Aren't they supposed to know you?

You knew it, deep down. But hearing him talk about how easy it was for him to ruin your life without you noticing anything was terrifying. He was terrifying. He spent his sweet time reading each of your convos with your friends, he found their adresses, he found their fucking adresses and filmed them. All of this with a disconcerting ease.

-You're one son of a bitch, you know that ? There is a place in Hell just for people like you.

-As long as you're with me, I don't mind. and he smiled, he smiled !

-You ruined everything. your body is shaking.

And understanding once again that he won, you feel your eyes water. Honestly, you didn't know you could still cry. You already did so many time your body was probaly all dry by now. But no.

You curl on yourself on the bed, letting your tears slide down your face. You were tired. But you couldn't sleep, nor do you wanted to. Ethan is facing your back, you don't see the smile on his lips. And you don't see his hand laying itself on your shoulder.

-And I'm happy I did.

Nor do you feel it. Too preoccupied in your despair to feel anything other than your sorrow. Your head hurt, everything does in your body anyway. Ethan slide his hand up and down your shoulder in a soothing way that only soothe him. And he sighs, feeling at ease.

-So, so happy."

@ephemeral-oasis

#ethan landry #yandere ethan landry #ethan landry x gn reader #ethan landry x reader #yandere boy #ethan landry fanfiction #vitzi9writings

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nuitsmedia · 6 months

Text

The Art of Loving

by Erich Fromm

For many years I have been on the quest for a piece of literature that would describe love to me. As a hopeless romantic, and as a lover of love I can finally say that I have found the closest description of love while relating it to important themes that evoke critical thinking. At first, I had a fair anxiety about finding this book to be nothing but a cliché self-help book that has a rather repetitive fashion and does not present new ideas to the question of "What essentially is love, and how can it be practiced?"

#books and libraries #library #erich fromm #books #love #relationship #philosophy #self development #religion #capitalist society #sociology #psychology #book review #book recommendations #review #classic

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kittiestkat · 2 years

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from old blog

dark content : stepcest

(i will insert the header when i can b bothered to make it :p)

again!” the incessant shouting and slaps of skin on polyester rang through your ears as you sat on one of the benches, legs swinging.

boxing wasn’t your forte, actually, any physical exercise at all wasn’t your favourite thing ever. at all for that matter.

“again!” the black haired brute shouted once more, praising the man he was training when his throw sounded a particularly loud ‘shmack’.

as much as your mother would scold you, you couldn’t deny that coming here was boring, your iphone games no longer satisfying the short spanned part of your brain.

tugging at your pleated skirt, you yawned, stretching your arms above you, exposing a slither of bronzed skin that enticed the person next to you to start speaking to you.

“good trainer isn’t he.” the man questioned, no, stated. he was bald, grey scruff framing a sunken down face.

“excuse me?” you question, head tilting to the side in confusion as to why this man was prying conversation from you. conversation you’d much prefer spent with megumi, if your phone wasn’t fucking dead.

“your dad,” he said, eyes flickering to the frilly socks you were sporting, his lips calling upwards as he tried gaging in what type of person you were.

ten dollars the word ‘lolita’ flit through his head.

“good trainer, huh?”

‘he’s not my dad.’

at least that’s what you would have said. your head turns, eyes zoning in on the tall man, unmoving as he held two matte black focus pads in his hands. no matter how hard the trainee punched he didn’t budge. not once.

“sure is.” you roll your eyes.

“be nice okay, they’re lovely and i don’t want them getting the wrong impression of you.” you didn’t appreciate your mum speaking so lowly of you. you loved her, sure. but right now you wanted to do nothing more than throw a tantrum.

it wasn’t like you went and fucked another man, got married and abandoned your old life for flashy cars and fake smiles. bitch.

three knocks on the door and the wood was swung open. a young boy with thick, black, unruly hair stood, looking…bored? great, another moron.

you rolled your eyes, wanting to gouge them out at your mums sickly sweet, completely inorganic, voice.

“fushi!” she beams, arms wide as she wraps him in a one sided hug.

“where’s your father, darling?” like he sensed her presence, a tall shadow came from the room directly in front of you, which you presumed to be the living room, kitchen even.

you had to admit, even you were a little surprised.

how did she bag that?

“baby!” your mother said, voices a hundred octaves higher. gross.

the man was tall, really fucking tall. six two maybe? taller even.

he was big, big shoulders, big hands, big smile. his top did nothing to hide his taught waist, the slim frame of it clearly sporting many muscles. not that you cared, his soon to be daughter.

your mum draped round him like some sort of bimbo accessory. the boy next to you scoffed. as much as you hated to admit it, your attitude to this situation was like his, as much as you whined and protested, the prospect of a new mother made your eyes twinkle, dimly, but there none the less.

“you must be y/n,” the man grinned, eyes wide, he looked like he genuinely was excited to meet you. he was still fucking intimidating.

your heart was hammering against your chest, you had grown annoyed at your body for being excited at the fact you were going to have a father figure, a new friend.

“i’m toji.” you shuffled on your feet a few times. you only mumbled in response, flustered; pinning it on the aspect of having a new entire family, not the tall man in front of you.

you could feel your mums anger when you didn’t speak, her mouth opening to scold you.

squeezing her sides, his voice in a low murmur, toji told your mum to lay off you, well not those exact words but along those lines. your eyes snapped up to the person towering over you. he was…defending you? tch, probably to win you over. you couldn’t help the small smile the crept on your face. you had to lower your head so your curls draped in front of your face.

“pleasure meeting you y/n.” he winked at you light-heartedly, his voice soft and warm and everything and more. your heart was only beating from nerves. that’s all.

“this is my little boy,” he pulled the lanky boy into his side, enjoying his groan at the teasing name. even you cracked a smile.

“say hi fushi.” he mocked your mums previous name with friendly intentions.

the boy kicks his feet, strands of hair covering his face like your own as he said a small mutter of his name. god you were both as bad as each other.

“what do you say back?” your mum said, trying to not lose her patience at you. it was like you were five all over again.

“y/n.” was all you gave. toji squeezes your mum to his side, nodding his head for you all to go to the dining room, the fumes of cooked food enticing you.

“cute name for a cute girl.” you blinked up at him, his back turned to you. whatever.

you still couldn’t believe you had been dragged out of bed to watch your dad train some sweaty balls of muscle.

over the course for these past months you had gotten more comfortable, surprisingly megumi had become your best friend. you were inseparable.

that’s when the name started to appear. habit learnt from fushiguro.

“daddy likes showing off.” you said, eyes still on your father. the man probably came in his pants right then and there. old fuck.

before you could tease with him any more, proving his misogynistic stereotype of you true, your name was called.

grabbing a ice-cold bottle of water from he fridge, you walk towards the ring.

“i’m not going to keep handing you stuff if you kill the guy.” you joke, earning a grin from toji, who doesn’t miss the way you tug at your short skirt, shuffling. toji still intimidated you, the drops of sweat falling down strands of his hair enticed you. your father was fucking beautiful.

as he was about to speak, the panting man behind him spoke. his face wasn’t that flushed from the exercise, you could tell that much. creep.

“she yours?” toji nods his head up at you, signalling for you to climb the ring, pulling you into his side when you were up on the slightly bouncy ring.

“of course, why else would she be such a good girl, helping her dad like this.” he let go of you, to unscrew the cap of water, handing it to the blonde.

“she’s the best.” your eyes were wild, barley registering the amount of praise thrown your way. not giving you time to process how toji grows territorial, glaring at the man that was eye fucking his princess moments prior.

his gaze falls back to your outfit; the usual short skirt, small socks and long sleeve black shirt, tucked in, tight enough the outline of your bra be visible. you loved your skirts.

he knew you were bored, knew how much you hated being dragged out the house. mum’s orders though, kid.

“how about a deal?” your ears perk up at his voice, low and soothing as he rubbed your back, comforting you. a deal?

“a deal?”

“mhm, a deal.”

“okay, shoot.” you smiled, not noticing the way your dad presses your body closer to his.

“if you carry on being this good, we can go get burgers,” the idea of juicy red meat appeased your senses, not nearly as much as quality time with daddy.

“just don’t tell your mother.”

by the time you’re home, all the lights are off.

you knew it was late, but just how late.

although it was night, the penthouse was boiling hot and you were wide awake.

taking off his coat, slicking back his wild, black hair with one hand, toji made his way to the kitchen, glass walls showing off flickering stars and a still silence.

everyone must be in bed.

the clinking of glass jolted you from your thoughts as you kicked off your trainers, feet softly thumping as you followed after your dad.

the artificial fire flickers under the tv, the soft light emitting a gentle glow. toji stood in the kitchen, pouring red wine into a large glass without a care in the world.

watching him made your realised how assured he was, how good he was to you.

how sure he was of his looks, charm and money. he was so fucking humble it irked you. you were a poison apple amongst a basket of berries. i mean you had it panned out in your head, him being nasty, cruel, evil. you were the nasty one.

“daddy?” you whisper. you gauge in on his reaction, fists balling up your skirt at the name you never used prior to now. the soft glug of wine continues, the only thing assuring he heard you being the small curl of his top lip.

he continues to ignore you.

his top is too tight, probably too suffocating, you didn’t know why he wore them. you didn’t complain.

after the glass is almost half full, the man makes his way to the living room, sitting on a coach. the fire flickers in his eyes, his features partly shadowed. how did your mum marry him?

it annoyed you really. why did mummy love him like she did late at night, when you and fugi were asleep. shouldn’t that be daddy’s best girl making him feel that good? shouldn’t that be you?

“sit.” realising he was talking to you, you made your way to the seat he was on, getting ready to rest on the arm chair. looking up at you, he smiled, shaking his head, finger pointing at the floor.

what were you a dog?

rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor, looking up at him as he sipped the alcoholic beverage. his eyes drift to you, glancing at your frame.

you were nothing like your mother; short, curvier, softer skin, a virgin. the last part was hit or miss.

your eyes skim over the wine glass, tongue wanting to dart out and seal a sip. sensing your curiosity he tilts the glass your way.

“wanna try?” nodding your head, you get up on your knees, only for his foot to push you back down.

“dogs don’t stand,” he jokes, foot on your lap, then tilting your head up by your chin.

“now be a good puppy and beg” you felt warm, confused but extremely…no not aroused. how could you be? he was joking, this is what dads do right? you just never had the presence of one in our life just like you weren’t used to these dad jokes…right?

rolling your eyes, you mimic a dog, intentions pure.

toji watches you, your hands balled up to look like paws, tongue lolling out.

“hmm,” his foot lifts from you and he pats his lap which you sit on a little too eagerly. it was weird; you were short, sure, but you weren’t slim, so why did you feel so fucking tiny on your dads lap?

he takes a sip while you’re lost in your thoughts, the feeling of a hand turning your hand breaks you from your reverie.

without warning warm lips capture yours, red liquid drizzling down the sides, pooling on your chin, threatening to drip down your chin.

you’re stunned. too stunned to tell him his tongue should be lapping up the red rivulets on your neck.

“more?” you don’t answer, he doesn’t expect you to, and before you know it, you’re fully straddling him, larger hands in your hair on your hip. all of him too much yet not enough.

“daddy?” he growls, pushing you into himself further. you feel it, you feel him.

“you want to be daddy’s favourite right?” you nod eagerly, stomach fluttering at the chance to be truly be his best.

is this it? the fatherly love everyone talks about.

it has to be.

“then tell daddy you love him.”

“megumi, i swear to fuck.” it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t speak about last week, if you didn’t bring it up, if he apologised.

toji had said he knew your antics, how you wore those short skirts, tiny socks, always hovered round him, stared at him. you didn’t deny it, didn’t deny how much you wanted, no, needed his attention.

and he gave it to you, every single night; with his fingers, tongue, cock.

you were just being a good daughter, his good daughter.

megumi continues flicking you with water, wet hands now in your grasp as you wrestle him, laughing.

“oi,” a deep voice sounds trough the room. his voice.

“someone sat the door for you, says she wants to talk.” he’s teasing, although his face remains blank. megumi grumbles, walking over, pretending his face isn’t blazing red.

“tell your little girlfriend i said hi.” you tease alongside, earning a middle finger.

toji watches you, waiting till his son leaves, before you resume washing up. it’s late, surprising you a girl would come for your brother at this hour, although now you think about it, think bout how thin your walls were, were you really that surprised?

“no boys coming for you?” you almost drop the glass in your hand, his voice catching you of guard. it always did. laughing off his question, your eyes stay put on the glass, watching the sun descend.

“would you allow that.” you whisper, a statement, knowing his reaction. warmth from behind tells you he’s behind you. the hardness tells you he wants you.

“don’t want your daddy sad do you?” you smile. daddy treated you so well these days, he bought you loads, spoilt you, coddled you, taught you how to feel like a princess. of course you don’t.

“you know what your mother said,” his voice was by your ear, breath blowing stray curls which tickled the sensitive skin there.

“she said you’re so well behaved these days.” he nips the top of you ear, near the piercing you had done yourself.

“why is that y/n”? his hands trail down your frame, resting on the skin of your tummy.

“because i’m a good girl,” you smile, turning round, hands draped around his neck.

“you’re whose good girl?” he was teasing now, the scar above his lip jerking with his smirk.

“your good girl, daddy.”

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beesmygod · 5 months

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reading the recent re-release of "the explosive child" for the first time because that axis of childhood behavior was completely off limits to me; i would have been a smear on a carpet. i want to know what drives that level of response to frustration and what you're supposed to do about it. it opens with a thesis statement that children who display these kind of behaviors are lagging in skills that the rest of us take for granted and are not skills widely recognized or flagged as being things to watch for until they hit adulthood, i.e. black and white thinking, inflexibility, difficulty "seeing the big picture".

the book appears to be aimed at all parents regardless of any formal diagnosis the child has and stresses that putting a name on this behavior doesnt (or didn't, this is a book from the 90s/early 2000s so the internet was not even close to as accessible as it was back then) inform the parent on how to exercise these skills. its a good point. if someone asked me to teach them how to be less explosive id be like "haha just close your eyes man". like its intuitive to a point where i wouldnt have the vocabulary to try to describe the processes my brain goes through when it hits a problem that isnt a problem, you know.

much to think about. i worry sometimes about how much psych books aimed at parents can be overly-weighted to the "rational" viewpoint because there's a refusal to understand why kids are "irrational". they just got here and are still learning how anything at all works and have to depend on us to teach them. they're irrational bc they dont know what rationality is coming out of the womb and whats important to a kid is not important to an adult. trying to find reads that balances empathy for kids, parents and pros who all seem to be flying by the seat of their pants

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samuwhal · 1 year

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We need to change how we talk about self-help techniques.

By self-help techniques, I’m talking about: grounding, mindfulness, meditation, breathing exercises, physical activity, and--the big one--yoga. I have struggled with my mental health since I was fifteen, and just now, I am realizing how much these things can actually help. I am almost twenty-six years old, and I will have been in therapy for ten years this fall. Let me tell you, I have spent so much of that time renouncing these tools. Recently, though I’ve realized that: holy shit, they can really work...but man they are offered to struggling people in the worst possible light.

TL;DR: Just because suggestions about ways to manage mental illness are framed as “you have to try it or you want to be sick” doesn’t mean that they can’t actually work or that you are invalidating yourself by trying or being helped by them. Featuring personal anecdotes and a boat metaphor.

I know I am not alone in that the idea of these techniques and exercises just made my skin crawl. They made me feel vulnerable in a way which really scared me, they felt impossible to initiate in the moments needed most, and--ultimately--they felt incredibly diminutive. Think about it: people getting sucked into rapids will drown cursing your name if all you do is insist they have to “ride the wave.” “Fuck you.”

When I began taking anti-depressants, it was not without a fight. I’m lucky; my parents were willing and able to put me in therapy as soon as I asked. But with medication, they were concerned it was a shortcut, that I would be on pills for the rest of my life, and that the chemicals would change me and do “the work” for me, as if this was an issue of character development and not brain malfunction. Why wouldn’t I just do something relaxing when I was upset? Why wasn’t I leaning more into my spirituality? Why wasn’t I letting anything else help me?

And that’s the problem! I tried to explain that I would be able to use those techniques easier if medication brought my overall symptoms down. You wouldn’t expect me to paddle upstream against a tsunami, but I could feasibly make progress against a strong current. Even at that point, if I go over rapids, I want a fucking life jacket, not somebody with their feet firmly planted on the riverbank shouting, “Try yoga!” Though I of course continued therapy in addition to medicine, I still resisted any advice having to do with self-help because of that sentiment.

To be clear, I’m still very pro-medication and for eliminating that stigma. Really, though, when somebody is having such debilitating symptoms--emotions--that they feel like they are getting pulled underwater and gasping for air, it’s not fair that the solution could be something as effortless as breathing in while counting until it’s better. That sounds like bullshit. Mental illness physically hurts, but to outsiders, it’s all in your head, and it would be fine if only you could step back and appreciate how good you have it. If “mindfulness” works, then maybe those people are right, and that can’t be true. It hurts too much to be true.

However, I want you to know that your struggles won’t be any less legitimate if something simple actually does end up helping. I have two stories here:

1. Last year, after wanting to start for ages, I finally began exercising: just going to the gym a couple of times a week. My goal was only to feel better in my body, not really to do anything for myself mentally. I even hired a personal trainer to write work-out routines for me to follow, both to hold myself accountable (I won’t skip if I’m paying someone) and just so I wouldn’t be totally lost the second I walked in. But I have felt so many unexpected mental benefits, as well:

Getting my heart rate and breathing elevated--and continuing to exert myself through it--has kept me steadier when anxiety starts to set in. I feel more confident knowing that I can lift heavy things, run distances, and because I did something productive. I’m not stress or bored-eating, not necessarily because I’m afraid I’ll “put the calories back,” but because I’m simply more regulated. I have been sleeping better since pushing my muscles has reduced my lower back pain. I don’t procrastinate showering if I’ve just gotten back from the gym. When I sit down to schoolwork, I focus easier if I had exercised. Something something endorphins. I know I’m starting to sound like a “bro,” but the point is that these are huge benefits to exercising that just don’t get mentioned by the people crudely suggesting that it will fix your depression.

2. A couple of months ago, I was having a bad night, and the “don’t believe any negative thoughts about yourself after 10 p.m.” rule had gone out the window. I did what many of us have taught ourselves to do and asked for a lifeline: I texted my girlfriend in the same room (because vocalizing it was too hard) asking if she would come over to sit with me. I didn’t even realize I was having an anxiety attack, but she did. At first, I felt too frozen and in-pain when she asked me to sit up from clutching the fetal position. Instrumentally, though, she said that she wanted to help, but I had to help myself, too. She was throwing me a ring, but I had to swim and meet her halfway. I sat up.

She held me and led me through a “find five things in the room” exercise, and fuck me: it helped. No, I wasn’t cured. I’m still not. But this broke my self-destructive loop, and I was able to go to sleep relaxed. This was an epiphany for me. I could have provided myself this tool, this comfort, the entire ten years I’ve been dealing with this shit! Instead, I’ve just been enduring it, hoping against everything pulling me down that--instead of drowning--I’ll eventually kick the riverbed where it’s shallow enough to stand.

When self-help techniques are offered to mentally ill people, they tend to be used as a “gotcha:” you could easily be better, if only you wanted to try. To be completely fair, this isn’t always the meaning. However, it only takes a couple of those microaggressions to ensure you shut down when your therapist or a concerned loved one asks if you've tried "grounding” before.

Please, take it from me: these tools aren’t just leaky arm floats that people who never even needed to learn how to swim offer just to feel better as they watch you struggle. They are a life jacket to keep you afloat when you tip, a wider paddle to outrun the rapids, a better rudder and tiller so you can actually steer, a bailing bucket for when things get dicey, or pontoons so you won’t tip so readily. Trying self-help techniques doesn’t disclaim what you’re going through, they just might make it more bearable.

And you’re worth that.

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ameliora-j · 7 months

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sneak peek of my new DILF!hotch x nanny!reader fic ♡

Aaron comes back quickly, and Jack now has a cherry flavored lollipop in his hand and a ring of red around his mouth. “Are you in college?” Aaron asks as he crouches in front of your knee. He gently runs a wet wipe over the blood dripping down your leg to wipe it up.

“Yeah” you smile, nodding slightly. Jack sits beside you as he pets and whispers to Nugget. “I'm studying criminal justice and psychology” you continue.

“Psychology and criminal justice, huh?” He asks softly, “big brain. What do you plan to do with those?” he asks softly as he glances at your knee in concentration. He pulls out the antibacterial spray and Jack reaches his tiny hand over to you.

“I hate when Daddy doeth thith pawt,” he slurs around his tasty treat, but he never takes his eyes off Nugget. You look wearily at the small boy’s hand, slightly grossed out by how sticky it was. However, you smile softly at how sweet he is, and place your hand in his. You’re thankful for some semblance of comfort, though, because Jack was right—the spray was absolutely the worst part. You hiss quietly as Aaron sprays the cut. He places a spiderman band-aid on it and then pats your thigh gently. “Daddy you have to kiss it to make it better” Jack chimes in and you laugh softly, heat rising to your face as well as Aaron's.

“No, Jack buddy, that’s okay” you smile reassuringly. “It’s already all better” you smile, gently kicking your leg for effect. “Thank you, Mr. Hotchner.” You offer him a shy smile

“Just Aaron is okay” he says gently, and you nod as you stand from his porch step. “Let me walk you home,” he offers.

“Oh, no!” You exclaim. “It's alright. It’s not too far from here, and uh… Nugget hasn’t pottied yet, so uh… Yeah,” you swallow again, forcing back the giggle that threatened to tumble out. Two lies in less than thirty minutes… Maybe that’s why the gods hated you.

Aaron nods softly. “Well, thank you for watching Jack when the crazy little adventurer got out” he nods, smiling smally at you.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for the band-aid” you giggle softly, taking a hold of Nugget’s leash as you begin to waltz your way down the street. You check behind you inconspicuously, noting that the two boys had gone inside before you pull out your phone, quickly dialing Ari’s number.

“Ari!” You practically squeal into the microphone as your best friend and roommate picks up. “I just met the hottest dilf with the cutest kid!” You shriek.

“Well hurry your ass up into the car and tell me all about it before I get a ticket for being double parked!” She exclaims, failing miserably to hide the loud laugh that she had let out. You and Nugget rush back up the hill and through the fence and clamber up into Ari’s car—the fat corgi sat on your lap, heavily winded from the whole three minutes of exercise that you had just forced him to endure.

You’re sure of so little things… but, as you sit in the car, there are three things that you are absolutely positive about.

Jack is the absolute cutest kid that you have ever seen in your life.

Mr. Hotchner is the most gorgeous man that you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

Nugget is definitely getting two Milk-Bones the second that you get back to the apartment.

#aaron hotchner #dilf!hotch #single dad!hotch #nanny!reader #white lies & cherry pies #this is gonna be a good one hehe

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reviewinghiccup · 1 year

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RIDERS OF BERK | HTTYD SERIES | BREAKING DOWN HICCUP

Blog Post Series : Breaking Down Hiccup

Title : Portrait of Hiccup as a Buff Man

Ep/Season : Episode 8, Season 1 (Riders of Berk)

Premise :

Following a proud Viking tradition, Stoick and Hiccup pose for a portrait which will hang on the walls of the Great Hall. However, much to only Hiccup’s chagrin (it seems) some “minor” modifications were made depicting a very different him. At the same time, the great treasure map left by the son of Hamish the 1st was discovered. Many have failed trying to decipher its codes, yet harder they try still. Upset by the portrait and trying to prove that he is more than his make, Hiccup embarks on a journey to find the elusive treasure. Something that even Stoick the Vast himself failed attempting.

THEME & MESSAGE

THINGS ARE NOT AS THEY SEEM

I felt really bad for Hiccup. At the start of the show, you can see him get super excited about the portrait, loving that he gets to take part in Viking history / culture.

Stoick has grown a lot too. He accepts Hiccup for who he is. After all, he has proven himself many times to be a worthy heir and son. And we know Stoick loves him.

However, the painting was exaggerated and Hiccup’s built and size was way larger in proportion to the actual fact.

Yet, no one seems to mind it, except him. It must’ve been confusing and degrading to find that everyone else, including Stoick, loved the work. Even comments like “now that’s the son of a chief,” echoed through.

Common, even Astrid simped over buff Hiccup.

So, Hiccup then goes on this rant, where he believes that his father loves the painting more than his real self.

And the “am I worthy enough” debacle starts brewing in Hiccup’s mind.

So, there he goes, leading the team on an adventure to find the treasure.

What ticked Hiccup off was, that his father couldn’t succeed in this treasure hunt and knowing that the “clues are so complicated that only a brilliant mind can decipher them,” meant that if Hiccup could, then all insecurity about his capabilities would be quashed, i.e., doing something even the strongest Vikings couldn’t do.

Hiccup manages to breakdown the riddles and find the treasure in an afternoon, of course w the help of the dragons and the riders, but the fact remains, he is and will always be the brains of the operation.

Stoick is reprimanded by Gobber for what he said to Hiccup about the painting, pointing to Stoick’s obliviousness and how it had affected Hiccup’s perception about himself.

I love that Gobber is like a check and balance for them. No doubt that Gobber has helped Stoick parent Hiccup. No doubt there.

Then, we have Stoick’s over-protective parent personality seep out, knowing that this adventure was dangerous, nearly even fatal and that he could actually lose his son, which made him realise that he would not want buff Hiccup, or stronger Hiccup, he just wanted Hiccup.

I love how just like the perception we have of Hiccup, the story is also nothing like we expect it to be. Hiccup admits that he knew his father accepts him, it was a question of whether Hiccup accepted himself.

Nothing was sweeter than to see Stoick run to his son and Hiccup running to his dad when the adventure ended.

Parents aren’t perfect. Stoick is far from it. But the most important thing about being a dad, is showing up. Sure, they fail. Stoick did, big time. But he makes up for it and thankfully, Hiccup has a big enough heart to forgive his dad.

COMMENTARY

This episode was heart warming. For an adventure story, I enjoyed the pacing. It made sense why they were quicker. With Hiccup’s mind and the ease of transport the dragons provided (and that of fire and safety) they could manoeuvre in and out of the dangerous bits of the exercise w ease. I also love how the story panned out and how, sometimes it really takes the least of the herd to do something spectacular.

Definitely one of my top favourite episodes in the HTTYD Series Universe.

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