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ashessonfire · 1 year

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Hi, I just gotta say I really love your stories and how detailed and eloquent your writing is.How about a Kaz Brekker x reader angst where a heist gone wrong results to Kaz (temporarily) losing his memory and reverting back to old Kaz, who is not in a relationship with reader, and he keeps pushing the reader away 'til reader gives up 'cause of something Kaz said or a scenario where they think Kaz is better without them♡♡♡thank you for listening HAHAHAHA

'Forgotten' - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt - Kaz Brekker's plans rarely fail, but what happens when a heist goes incredibly wrong, and the Bastard of the Barrel forgets you completely? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader (established relationship) - Warnings: Depictions of violence, gunshots, Kaz's trauma / memories, Kaz being an asshole but not really his fault??? ANGST ANGST ANGST Part two found here! A/N: Thank you all so much for the amount of support and love i am getting for my first few posts! I will definitely write a part two if you want it, its a massive cliffhanger but would be WAY too long to do it in one go. JUST PURE ANGST IM SORRY T-T

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Kaz’s plans often fell victim to unseen circumstances, however, small hinderances to his meticulously planned out schemes rarely affected the outcome. Yet even Kaz himself had to admit, that this plan had gone spectacularly wrong.

From incorrect blueprints for the building, to four times the number of armed guards than initially expected, all the group could do was try and escape relatively unharmed. The crows were splintered into six breathless individuals, winding their way through narrow streets to try and loosen their attackers’ grips. Sprays of bullets and the glints of knives rushed past each one of them, only narrowly missing their targets.

That was until Kaz felt a searing pain in his leg, a sudden slash just under the back of his knee, sending fire trailing throughout his body. He groaned deeply, internally damning the attacker for not only striking his target, but also managing to hit Kaz on his already bad leg. The pain from the wound caused it to buckle, giving him a clear path straight towards the glistening cobblestone of Ketterdam’s streets.

Before he could fully feel the impact, a hand tightly gripped the roots of his hair, pulling his face parallel to the grinning pursuer, evidently pleased with his achievement of apprehending the Bastard of the Barrel.

Before Kaz could use his cane to fight back, it was violently ripped from his grasp, another set of hands clutching his own behind his back, rendering him completely immobile. Suddenly, the knife was yanked out of his leg, earning a surprised growl from Kaz, his leg leaking onto the stone beneath him a deep ruby shade.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I’m afraid to say I am more than a little underwhelmed, Dirtyhands,” The leader of the group sneered, earning a howl of laughter from his gang, who seemed to be forming from the shadows of the abandoned street, emerging in staggering numbers.

Despite his predicament, a thought flashed through his mind, calming his increasingly alarmed state. “Perhaps they abandoned the others in favour of catching me,” Kaz silently contemplated, feeling a light sense of relief at the possibility his crew would make it back to the slat alive.

Especially you.

However, the relief was knocked out of him as swiftly as it came, along with all the air in his chest. A brutal kick sent him reeling backwards into the chest of the man behind, followed by a series of punches which Kaz was defenceless against. The assault continued, blood pouring into his eyes from an open wound on his forehead, blinding him to the onslaught of attacks that followed, as he rapidly tried blinking to wash away the crimson from his vision.

The ambush subsided, giving him enough time to throw his head back and remove some of the steadily flowing substance from his sight. Murmurs sounded around him, but Kaz couldn’t decipher what was being stated, the ringing from the punches obscuring the sound around him, leaving him underwater, drowning in his own blood.

Despite Kaz’s senses becoming increasingly obstructed, a flare of panic welled up within him, as he spotted something brassy glinting through the sheet of red, catching the light from the street lanterns surrounding them. The unknown object began its descent towards him, the glint becoming a beam which shone through the curtain of crimson, until it was just close enough for Kaz to make out the flash of a crow’s eye, and the curve of a beak.

“How ironic,” Kaz thought to himself, “Being killed by my own cane.”

The scarlet curtain closed on Kaz, the blow ending the performance the gang was putting on, leaving their victim in a world full of darkness, the feeling of the waves washing over him and pulling him deeper into the abyss.

The last thing he heard was the sound of a voice.

Jordie’s?

The concern that radiated from the sound brought him back to memories of the farm, where Kaz would climb too far up a willow’s branches, and his brother would have to call him down. Or perhaps when they had arrived in Ketterdam and Kaz had thought it comedic to hide in a dimly lit street, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked in its gloom.

However, as Kaz slipped deeper into the ocean, the voice getting further away with each of his slowing heartbeats, a tinge of warmth hit his chest, signalling that this wasn’t Jordie.

It was you.

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Your adrenaline had served you well, since shortly after you were separated from the crows, familiar edges of buildings and glints of neighboring signs entered your vision. Using this to your advantage, you utilized your familiarity of the area to hide, slipping into the shadows, melting into the gloom of Ketterdam's alleys. Soon, all five of your pursuers had bullets lodged in their throats unable to pinpoint where they were being shot from. Each fatal blow perfectly central just as Jesper had taught you.

Whilst your mind began to settle at the lack of immediate threat, something burred within your core pulled on your heartstrings, pointing your unsettling fear towards Kaz.

You had taken great care to note which routes the other crows had disappeared down, for insurance if they did not return to the slat within the agreed time. However, as you fled, your heart had plummeted at the sight of at least ten men chasing down your boyfriend.

Before your mind could register your actions, you were sprinting back in the direction you had come, weaving through the bodies littering your path. You quickly reached the alley Kaz had fled down, and you bolted through the streets you estimated Kaz would take.

As he was your boyfriend, you had become accustomed to imagining what he would do, or how he would act in certain situations, helping you decode his behaviour when he barricaded himself from you on troublesome days.

The sound of bone cracking and pained grunts pulled you away from your thoughts, turning a sharp corner just in time to see the head of Kaz’s precious cane colliding with his temple, the light visibly fading from his eyes due to the blow.

Rage swept through you, controlling your actions as your mind failed to synchronise with your body. Rushing forward, you shot wildly, achieving at least three separate screams from the men before you. Before the others were made fully aware of your presence, you had a serrated knife plunging into a further two, leaving fatal wounds which would slowly bring about their demise. Once every one of group were flooding the streets with their blood, your gaze shifted to Kaz.

Lying in a growing pool of blood, your boyfriend’s face was swollen, covered in deep gashes that littered his sharp features. The dim light from the lanterns overhead cast murky shadows over the wounds, highlighting the gruesome fate Kaz had endured. From somewhere far in the distance, you heard your voice screaming his name, begging for him to wake up, at some point you had even rushed over to him and began caressing his fractured face to wake him.

Allowing a deep inhale of Ketterdam’s air, you collected yourself, imagining that Kaz were conscious and scolding you for your slow reactions and the ‘weakness’ you were portraying. Laying your head against his frigid chest, you held your own breath, only releasing the growing tension when a faint heartbeat pounded against your ear.

Silently apologising for your next actions, you hooked both of Kaz’s arms underneath your own and used all your force to haul him back to the Slat.

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For several days following the attack, the group had come to a collective conclusion that their boss was severely concussed, so much so that he was barely conscious for more than a few minutes at a time.

Throughout the harrowing days, you never left his side, constantly aiding his body in a frail attempt to bring him back to the conscious realm, and to you.

The crows stopped by often to assist you, compelled to keep at least one half of the pair in a decent condition, Nina bringing hot food, Inej wiping down your face with a warm cloth, and Jesper or Wylan keeping you company for an hour or so, brightening the mood wit =h jokes or stories.

Time seemed almost to cease its movements, with even the smallest of things, like the rain rolling down the frosted glass in Kaz’s room, or the flickering of the candles illuminating the slat, appearing sluggish to you.

That was, only until Kaz woke up.

A bout of coughs awoke you from a light sleep, sending alarm bells ringing through your head, echoing off the walls and overwhelming you. Upon seeing the straining eyes blinking against the intensity of the candlelight, the roar swiftly subsided.

“Kaz,” you breathed out, barely audible to both you and him.

You gently reached out to feel the heat from his forehead, an action not dissimilar to the gentle brushes of his locks you would often settle on when he was too engrossed in scheming to provide you attention. However, your movements were stopped dead in their tracks when a voice sliced through the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaz seethed.

Although his voice was hoarse from his absence over the last few days, a clear threat laid deeply within his sentence, piercing your chest with a thousand knives. “Kaz, I’m just checking your temperature, my love,” you offered gently, praying to the Saints that whatever malice behind your partners eyes was due to his condition, and not a genuine fury.

Instead of removing the knives from your heart, he twisted them painfully, glaring directly at you as he warned lowly, “I am not sure how long I have been out for, but I severely doubt it would be enough time for a word like ‘love’ to be directed towards me. Especially by the likes of you. Go and get Nina, you are of no use to me.”

Your breath hitched painfully in your throat, blocking the air trying to travel both in and out, glittering eyes locked directly with his as your mind struggled to process the disgust that laced his voice. Your body battled as it tried to force another ‘Kaz’ out into the world, but he intruded before the sound escaped.

“Leave now, or I will dismiss you for insubordination. Go,” Kaz stated, bitterness being the only discernible emotion portraying through his words, his chest filling with an emotion so strong he couldn’t name it, deciding to settle on disgust. Your eyes welled up, clouding your vision as you cautiously left the room, shock coursing through your body and stiffening your every movement, causing shivers to wrack your body as your blood froze to ice.

Your mind seemed to leave your body, taking little note of going to Nina and sending her up to Kaz, or the other crows fawning over your broken state, clearly panicking further when your only form of response was a stiff silence. It seemed safer to hide behind glossy eyes and blank looks, than to decipher what had caused Kaz’s reaction.

It was only an hour later when Nina came downstairs, shaking you out of your daze with words that did a far more agonizing job than Kaz’s knives would.

She downright shot you point blank in the heart.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, it seems like the blow has affected his memory. I can’t tell the severity yet, but it seems that he has no recollection of you two as, well you know. ‘You two,’” Nina bit out, voice cracking as her heart shattered for you, who now stood shaking before the group, the slightest breeze threatening to barrel you over.

You dismissed them with a fractured smile, barring yourself within the confines of your room, knives drawing blood within your heart, twisting excruciatingly each time a shuffle or a creak would sound from the room above yours.

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Your perseverance impressed not only the rest of the crows, but yourself too. You didn’t allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for long, determined to regain Kaz’s memory despite his protests and frustration with you. You had already molded a loving relationship with the deadliest man in Ketterdam, you figured that you would be able to withstand doing it once more.

Enduring the blade-like words was the simplest part, however it was the emotion behind them that faltered you each time you were faced with him. He always his behind a face of insults or harsh syllables, but you had decoded their meanings long ago, the sentiment behind each radiating through in a way in which only you could detect.

As he recovered, you remained vigilant to his every need, bringing him herbal tea infused with medicine or offering fresh bandages to change when the blood seeped through the last.

Each encounter ended with tears streaming drearily down your face, matching the raindrops that hit against the pains of the slat, each impact slamming against your heart. As you persisted, the feeling Kaz felt towards you grew, the emotion intensifying with each glimpse at you.

He couldn't stand it.

Rage bubbled within him at your attempts at kindness, the insults increasing in harshness and malice each time you dared to provoke him.

Yet you bounced back, offering him delicate smiles, compassionate gestures, and kind words. However Kaz couldn't bear it any longer, the weight in his chest obscuring his breathing and brooding for too long, consuming him from the inside out.

Despite his unbroken hatred that radiated towards you, he seemed to gradually be regaining his memories, allowing Jesper's jokes or Nina's teasing to go as far as they would before the accident. It caused you great anguish, and shamefully jealousy, at his return to every one of his crows.

But you.

The door to his office was given a light few taps, before Kaz permitted you entry, knowing from the weight of the knocks it had to be you. Although the others seemed far more wary of him than usual, there was something almost gentle about how you acted towards him, making it easier for Kaz to single you out from the rest.

You entered with a stack of papers, a vast collection of work that had accumulated whilst he regained his health. Biting back his usual snarky insults and remarks dripping in poison, Kaz watched you intently, deadly intentions practically radiating from his gaze.

Setting down the pile, you stepped back silently, too exhausted to bear the weight of another one of his lashings, each word cutting you and leaving you bleed out, not dissimilarly to how you found him that night.

The silence in his office was impenetrable, the air becoming impossible to breath through the tension that radiated between you, with only one of you being able to decipher what it truly was. Your mind was so focused on the intake of air, you almost missed the hand that extended towards you, the closest he had allowed you since his memory had stolen you from him.

Clutched in his grasp was a simple white letter, signatures coating the outside of the envelope, and something folded, protruding from within the packet itself.

The silence became deafening, the pounding of your heart like a bird trapped in a cage infinitely too small for its prisoner, crashing into the walls in an attempt to escape. As your hand made contact with the offering, Kaz spoke in a tone you had never heard before.

He simply stated, "From tomorrow, at four bells, you will be gone. A job in Ravka requires someone of your skillset, so you will go. If you fail to comply then you will no longer be welcomed here. I have tolerated your incessant troubling for long enough, you have no true place here until you finally realize how burdensome you truly are."

Your heart stopped.

The air around you liquified, slowly filling your lungs with fluid and choking you, drowning you silently as Kaz looked on with an indifferent scowl, an eyebrow raised in question at your astonishment.

The tears streamed, your body screaming for air, for comfort, for him. But it couldn't seem to attain any one of them, instead pushing all its strength into forming the the right words to pierce Kaz Brekker's impenetrable façade.

"You still don't remember?" you coughed out, "After the incident who was it who rushed back to you, dragged your half-dead body across the Barrel and into the slat. Who stayed by your side until they were forced to leave each night? Do you not have any recollection, not of the memories, but of how you felt for me? Surely I didn't mean that little to you," your voice wavered heavily whilst you gasped out the final line.

The tears formed rugged streams across your cheeks, glinting in the dim candlelight from Kaz's desk, highlighting the pain you had hidden from him for weeks. It was now his turn to be stunned, the words echoing around his mind but not seeming to form into coherent meanings.

Despite Kaz's astonishment at your outburst, it wasn't enough.

Wasn't enough for him to stop you from walking away, or enough to whisper your name louder in confusion and uncertainty as your form dissolved into the hallway .

Surely this was what he was supposed to do?

Yet deep inside his plagued heart your words resounded, filling Kaz with a sense of dread, the waves that usually consumed him began to swell, drowning him in his seat just as he had done to you earlier.

He was certain on one thing, that the gaping pain in his chest which he had presumed was disgust, or perhaps even hatred, had not disappeared. Had not lightened as he had prayed it would if you just vanished.

No. Instead it had intensified into something that swallowed him whole, dragging him further into the bitter ocean than ever before, waves crashing fiercely above his head.

The emotion consumed him as his breathing deepened, heart both simultaneously stopping and racing into oblivion, as it finally dawned on him. Somewhere within that feeling a small spark remained glowing, something that felt warm and familiar which he had repressed.

Something that resembled care, or affection, or...

Love.

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Tag list: @animalistic00 @whos6claire

Click here for part two <3

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader imagines #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #ashessonfire

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cherishedhope · 1 year

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“Safe with me.”

Synopsis: How he reacts when his s/o gets injuried. Characters involved: fatui!Scaramouche, Xiao, & Childe. TW: Very mild descriptions of injuries. A bit of cussing. Probably not a trigger, but this could be OOC. A/N: Ah yes, the good ol’ ‘injured reader’ hcs/scenarios. I got lazy near the middle of Scaramouche’s scenario, so eh. Have fun with that. I wish I could’ve come up with a better title, but that’s all my brain juice managed to squeeze out. Also, I think I’m getting the hang of formatting! Haha. This might be out of character so bear with me. As always, GN!reader. NOT proofread.

Request status: open!

— You and I both know damn well he isn’t going to take this situation lightly. When I say he is upset, I mean he's pissed. Infuriated, even. How dare someone have the audacity to injure his significant other? Are they simply begging for death? — If you try to make light of the situation, he’ll shoot you a piercing glare to shut you up. He doesn’t find these circumstances to be amusing at all. Even if your injuries aren’t too grim, he’s still going to dispose of the treasure hoarders, and yes he’ll do it behind your back even if you oppose that idea. He isn’t a fatui harbinger for nothing. There isn’t anything you can do that will hinder him from annihilating them.

“Worthless as expected.”

You bit down gently on your lip as those harsh words sliced through your ears. Even though at this point you were used to Scaramouche’s degradation, it still stung a bit to hear those words easily exit his mouth. You weren’t given enough time to ponder over your boyfriend’s hurtful words because shortly after, the sharp stinging of alcohol swabs dabbed repeatedly on your open cuts. A hiss of pain was instantly drawn out of your lips. Hell, cleaning the wound hurt worse than the actual injury itself.

"It isn’t my fault that the treasure hoarder snuck up behind me,” You mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. Your hands clenched in your lap, being balled up into a fist when the swab tainted with rubbing alcohol hit a particularly deep cut on your shoulder. Scaramouche’s indigo-colored eyes flicked over to your clenched fists for a brief moment before he went back to cleaning up your wound. “mistakes happen.”

The room falls silent, the only noises being the grinding of your teeth and the occasional hiss of pain slipping past your lips despite your efforts to keep it down. While Scaramouche still managed to maintain his cold demeanor just as always, you failed to notice the slightest hint of worry in his gaze with each pained noise and every sign of discomfort you displayed. The truth was, he was utterly disgusted. Not at you nor your actions, but with the existence of that one treasure hoarder who held the audacity to lay his repulsive hand on you. The hand that held such a tight grip on the dagger that sliced cleanly through your flesh, ripping a large hole in your clothes as well as your skin. When the news had reached him that his significant other got wounded during a battle, Scaramouche was livid. The wound itself was not fatal, but still. However, it was fine now. He was here with you, tending to your wounds. You’re okay.

“Are you an idiot?” A bitter scoff was brought out of his mouth, his fiery orbs seemingly drilling holes into your soul with how intense his glare was. He tossed aside the cotton swab that was now covered in blood and reached into the first aid kit to pull out a bandage. The pads of his fingers brushed softly against your skin as he delicately wrapped a bandage onto your shoulder. His face softened as he spoke the next words, his voice still remaining cold, yet there was also warmth detected in his tone. “I wasn’t mocking you, I was referring to how pathetic the treasure hoarder looked as he begged on his knees for mercy.”

You blink once and then twice in confusion as you try to process his words. Oh, so that’s what he meant. A sheet of awkwardness fluttered down in the room. Both parties remained silent once again. Scaramouche glowered down at the first aid kit as he began to put away the clean roll of bandages and cotton swabs. The transparent box was snapped shut, the sharp noise being obnoxious in contrast to the deathly quiet room.

“You’re lucky those useless underlings found you when they did. Who knows what would’ve happened had they not spotted you. You’d be dead!” His voice was the first to break the silence. In fact, he had done that twice in a row now. You weren’t surprised in the slightest. You already knew he would start scolding you the second he was sure you were safe. It was just his way of showing how much he valued your safety. “Now, I need you to tell me just what the hell went through your mind when you decided to let your guard down in the middle of a fight.”

The lecture lasted two hours straight. About 90% of it was him constantly telling you to stop being in your own little la-la world and to pay more attention when in a fight. There was no mistaking the sprinkle of fear hidden behind his eyes as he scolded you mercilessly. Yet, despite how harshly he was reprimanding you, you couldn’t help but notice how tightly his arms were wrapped around your waist later that night. How he held you a little bit closer to him when you two retired for the night.

You weren’t allowed to go complete any commissions the next day. Mr. Fandango man held you hostage in the camp. And when you were finally permitted, — yes, permitted. He’s paranoid, okay? — to go do your daily comissions, he stationed some fatui underlings to accompany you with your work. If he wasn’t so busy, then he’d go with you himself considering he’s much more reliable than some worthless underlings. However, he made sure himself that the underlings were qualified enough to look out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

— Hm, I wonder what kind of flowers your culprit wants at their funeral. Maybe sunflowers? Ooh, how about daisies? Heck, Childe will pay for them himself out of spite. — You thought he was clingy before you got hurt? Well, multiply that by a hundred. He’ll be spoiling you rotten during your time being injured, despite the wound being just a couple of teensy weensy cuts. — It’s not just little cuts in the grand scheme of things, okay? Anything can get tainted by bacteria, which can then lead to an infection, which could also lead to death, and then- and then-! (we get it, childe. chill.)

“I brought you some flowers.”

Your head swivels in the direction of the sudden, yet familiar voice that had just come out of nowhere. You had been preoccupied with cleaning the minor cuts that were littered across your fingers. It wasn’t anything too bad. It was all due to some sharp ice that a cryo abyss mage had spawned above your form. Luckily, you had dodged it fairly quickly. The problem was that the large block of ice had completely shattered when it smashed onto the ground, the tiny shards of ice flying up into the air and cutting up your hands.

A head of messy ginger hair comes into your line of sight. It was your significant other, Childe. He was holding a bouquet of roses in his gloved hands as he slowly approached the table you were sitting at, pulling out one of the wooden chairs and sitting down on it across from you. “Are those for me?” You asked, pointing your forefinger at the flowers he held in his hand. It was almost impossible not to let your eyes wander over the gorgeous bright red petals. They looked as if they had been tended to with the utmost care before being picked fresh. You could only imagine how sweet the aroma must smell.

“Who else would it be for?” The tone of his voice was teasing as he passed the bouquet over to you. You gratefully accepted it, and after pressing your face into the soft petals to get a nice big whiff of the pleasant smell, you gently placed the roses in a glass jar that was filled with various kinds of flowers. Cecilias that had been imported from Monstadt, qingxins that were plucked from the highest mountains in Liyue, and hell, you even had sweet flowers in the jar.

And they had all come from Childe. That wasn’t even counting the scrumptious, expensive sweets he had bought for you as well. He had been spoiling you rotten ever since the scuffle you had with the abyss mage. On the contrary, you hadn’t gotten injured that badly. It was just a couple of cuts on your hands. Although, the 11th of the fatui harbingers didn’t just treat it as if it were just ‘some cuts.’ He had been treating you as if you were fragile porcelain. Something that couldn’t be easily replaced if broken so carelessly. His eyes trailed over to the small bandages that were fitted on your hands. The worried and slightly enraged look in his big blue eyes hadn’t faded away the entire day.

“Are you feeling better, darling?” Childe lowered his voice to a gentle whisper as he kindly took your hand in his own, taking extra care in trying to avoid holding it too tightly lest it stings for you. The fabric of his gloves felt soft against your hands as he held them gently. A coy smile fell across his lips. “I take it you liked the flowers?” You nodded your head leisurely as a response. While you felt slightly embarrassed due to how much he’d been spoiling you, you couldn’t help but feel loved. Despite his status as a fatui harbinger, which would scare many people off, you couldn’t help but love him dearly. He appreciated you and your presence greatly and treated you as if you were a higher deity. Like you were the jam to his peanut butter.

The grip he held on your hands tightened ever so slightly as he continued to gaze deeply into your eyes, a loving, yet determined look in his own. You were here, safe with him. He would protect you till the day either you or he perished. Damn it all if he ever failed to protect you again.

You are the love of his life, and he is yours. Nothing could ever change that fact.

“By the way, did I tell you about how I murdered every abyss mage in the vicinity and beyon-”

“Childe, what.”

— He is freaking out. — Why didn’t you call out his name? Didn’t he tell you countless amounts of times to call out for him if you ever found yourself in danger? He was supposed to protect you, damn it! — He blames himself for it. 100%. He should have been cautious and kept by your side. He should’ve been there, and he wasn’t. — Even after he tears through the treasure hoarders with his spear, he still feels furious the more and more he stares at your wounds. How. Dare. They? — While he’s also furious, he’s also terrified. He can’t lose you. He can’t. He just can’t.

Your vision was blurry and your mind felt foggy as your brain scrambled around to try and process what was happening. Everything had been going well a few minutes prior to this very moment. You were on your merry way to Wangshu Inn to visit your beloved, when suddenly you got ambushed with a horde of swords and bows. The roughness of the rope dug deeply into the skin of your wrists as you were pressed up against a tree, your body battered and bruised. It had all happened in mere seconds. You barely had enough time to process or defend yourself from all that was happening, let alone even think about calling out for your significant other. And when your brain did clear up enough to think about calling him, you felt hesitant to do so.

You watched in a daze as the treasure hoarders ruffled through your belongings in your bag. All of your items were strewn around the camp so carelessly. The treasure hoarders didn’t want to just settle for your pocketbook. The greed that filled up their hearts gave them an intense lust for riches. Not that you had any. You hated every single moment of this scenario. It felt as if you were some helpless damsel in distress whom relied on others to come and save them. It was humiliating.

But it was either get saved or more than likely suffer a gruesome death.

“Xia-!”

Before you can even finish speaking his name, all of the treasure hoarders are dead and lying lifeless on the ground, Xiao standing menacingly over their still bodies. Your face paled just looking at the sight. While you knew your boyfriend wasn’t a stranger to ending lives, he never unleashed his fury in front of you. However, you knew it would happen either way. Xiao wasn’t a merciful soul to those who harmed the people he actually gave a shit about. Even if he didn’t like killing humans, he’d do so without a thought if a measly mortal were to put your life at risk. It had taken Xiao a split second to stalk up to your restrained form to break you free of the restraints that held you in place. Before you could utter a single word to break the silence, you felt callous hands untying you from the oak tree. The scent of fresh blood floated up your nostrils, the strong metallic smell making your stomach feel queasy. At this point, Xiao had gotten rid of his mask and was focused on getting you safe and sound. His eyebrows scrunched together in sheer frustration as his eyes scoured over every inch of your body, the bruises and slashes never once leaving his eyes. While there was also fury, there was also a clear sense of worry shown through how shaky his fingers were as he finally undid the ropes, how uneven his breathing was as he caught you in his arms. (more like snatched you into his arms.) He was trying his hardest to remain calm, but he couldn’t.

“Xiao, I-”

“…Are you okay?”

Even his voice trembled as he desperately tried to keep up a stoic facade. You knew he was panicking. He knew he was panicking. How could anyone not panic upon seeing their significant other is bruised and bleeding? While the injuries certainly would not result in your death, all he could think about was what could have happened. He could be burying your body right now instead of holding you close to him. He clutched you as if you were his most prized possession, which you were. He knew he had to get you to a healer, but he had the hardest time letting you go. He needed to hear you say it. To say that you were all right. That you wouldn’t leave him.

Your arms wrapped around his torso as you hugged him gently, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly as you tried to comfort him. “It’s all right, Xiao. I’m still here. I won’t leave you. I’m okay.”

Those words were all it took for him to crumble down. His hands tightened around your waist exponentially as he held you close, his head pressed into his shoulder as he calmed yourself with his presence.

It would all be okay in the end. Because when it all came down to it…

“You’re safe with me, (name). No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it.”

“That’s nice and all, but could I please go to a doctor-”

“Oh, right.”

“The curtains have closed and the seats have become bare. The show is over.”

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morinuu · 4 months

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❊｜yuuji x ocd!reader. tw: mention of intrusive thoughts, 527 words, just a comfort/vent thing i wrote bc if anyone knows what it's like to have pure and raw evil in your head it's him. sending love to all my ocd girlies out there

bf!yuuji is protective over you despite knowing very well you're a strong woman and enroll jujutsu just as he does. he can't help it, you're adorable in his eyes so babying you is a regular occurrence. and yet...

bf!yuuji opens up to you about how horrible it actually feels to share a body with a curse like sukuna. he always makes it seem like he's fine with it, like his life has gone on like normal, but the truth is it's mentally scarring in multiple ways. "sukuna is constantly lurking," he tells you, "and he just says... fucked up shit sometimes." he shares with you the incredible guilt that weighs on his chest whenever sukuna acts perverted or violent, how he blames himself for it because it's happening in his body, even though he knows that technically none of it is his fault.

bf!yuuji who tells you he feels incredibly tired and lonely, even with his girlfriend and precious friends by his side. it feels lonely yet crowded in his head and he can't stand the fear that one day he'll lose control of his body entirely.

bf!yuuji who shares with you that even though he's protective and wants to shield you, he's more scared of himself than anything. he's horrified of hurting you, his friends, his teachers.

bf!yuuji who thinks it's cute when you say you understand him - thinking you're just trying to comfort him and failing, but then is actually shocked when you reveal your disorder to him.

bf!yuuji who hugs you as tightly as he can when he realises you feel the exact fucking same as him, despite there being different reasons for it. he doesn't find it funny when you let out a dry laugh and joke "if you think sukuna's lurking in your brain now, wait for the years to come."

bf!yuuji who wants to keep you caged in his arms and comfort you forever when you confess your occasional false (and lack of) memories, and is moved when you start tearing up for him, because in his brain, nobody else would understand. but now he knows it's nobody except his soulmate.

bf!yuuji who feels guilty that it comforts him to hear his lover share the same troubles, and closes his eyes to relax when you kiss his temple softly and whisper to him that "no matter what happens, you're not alone in this, yuuji. there are other people like us, even if they have different circumstances."

bf!yuuji who falls asleep next to you that night, his arms embracing you and both your legs tangled together, your faces dry and salty from crying and sobbing in each other's arms.

bf!yuuji who loves you so much he feels like bursting, and couldn't be happier to reveal all parts of himself to you, trusting you with his heart and soul and not caring if you want to crush it or cherish it.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #yuuji itadori #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #yuuji comfort #fluff #slight angst #slight vent #fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen

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bad268 · 5 months

Note

could you write some fluff for kimi antonelli?? you write him so well 😭😭 maybe when kimi's caught out in public by fans w his girlfriend being affectionate or something 🙏💗

Caught (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient <3)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1276

Summary: Secret relationships get revealed when celebrating the championship win.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Kimi was a very private person. He just wasn’t very open with his personal life. Especially those who are closest to him. This includes you, his significant other.

You two had originally met in karting but officially met at the Italian Formula 4 Championship as competitors and teammates. However, certain circumstances led to you dropping out of the championship.

Kimi was the only person to stay in contact with you after the departure.

One thing led to another, you both stayed in contact, and you have been together for just under a year now.

Not that any of the fans would know! As said before, Kimi is a very private person, and that includes you. The only people who really know about your relationship are your respective families and the Prema team. The team found out when you suddenly came back into the garage with Kimi’s dad after leaving the sport almost six months prior. In all honesty, they saw it coming from a mile away.

You tried to come to the most recent race, the last race of the season. You really did, but it was not your fault that you were bedridden with the flu in Italy. Kimi still wanted to try his best at the last race because he wanted to show his skills to Prema and Mercedes, maybe to you too knowing how you were feeling unwell, despite already securing the championship.

After he finished up the podium celebrations from race 2, he sent you a text, letting you know he was cleaning up and would be doing media before he could call you. In all honesty, you were asleep, so you did not see it until nearly two hours later.

Instead of responding, you decided to send him a selfie of you laying in the bed with the text, “Just woke up, did I miss anything?”

On the track, Kimi stepped away to get some peace from the chaos that is media and fans after a season closer. He found a fairly desolate section as he opened his messages. He had been checking them periodically, hoping to see a response from you, but he never saw one. It never even showed as read, so he assumed you were asleep.

Just as he opens his messages, he sees the notification of a picture sent by you. He opens the picture without a second thought, laughing lightly at the face you made before he immediately sends one back with all of the updates he has. After sending a couple of funny pictures back and forth, you decided to just call him.

Little did he know, a couple of fans had walked up behind him, hoping to record his reaction to a picture they made him, and they watched him send you pictures and listened in as he talked to you. They had evidence that Kimi had a significant other; they just needed to find out who it was.

A week later, back in Italy, you and Kimi were finally able to celebrate his championship win. Despite insisting that you wanted to plan everything and arguing (shortly) with Kimi over it, you both decided that you would alternate things to do.

Kimi chose breakfast. It was only right that as the champion, he got to choose where you started. It was a simple breakfast at home that you both made together and it definitely did not end with you both covered in flour.

Then, Kimi had a couple of meetings, so you had to put a hold on the celebrations. This gave you time to think about what your plan was for the rest of the day as if you did not already know exactly what you were going to do.

So when lunch came, you chose Kimi’s favorite restaurant. Plus, he was finally able to eat it since the season was over, and you got special permission from his nutritionist. It was the best place to splurge after a win. An added bonus, it was fairly empty save for a few small groups. No one paid either of you any mind.

After lunch, Kimi chose to do a walk around your favorite park. It was a fairly desolate park, but it was one that you grew up going to all the time. Kimi knew it was a calming place for you.

Not to mention, there were swings. Who doesn’t love swings?

The swings were side by side, so as soon as you arrived at the park, you took off toward them, laughing as you left Kimi in your dust. Just as you were about to reach the swings, Kimi catches up. He picked you up and spun you around briefly before setting you back down.

You turned around in his arms as you held onto his biceps, smirking up at him. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He chuckled as he looked at you skeptically, but it changed immediately when you darted off into the open field. You shouted behind you, “You’ll need to catch me first!”

And once again, it was like you were on the track again. Living life like there was no tomorrow, having fun doing the most minuscule things, all the while with someone you really cared about. It was like the old Prema challenges you did with Kimi and Conrad. It made you miss the simpler things.

You were off in your own little world, casually going back and forth laughing and chasing after each other around the park. At one point, Kimi tackled you and you rolled around the grass before he stopped, leaning over you, “I caught you.”

Just as he was leaning down, that was when you heard it. The clicking of a camera. Turns out a group of fans saw you at the restaurant earlier and followed you to the park.

Your heads snapped toward the group, and instead of getting upset, Kimi calmly walked over to them to offer autographs and pictures.

“Are you two together?” One asked immediately.

“Weren’t they your F4 teammate?” The other asked.

“You two are cute together,” One gushed.

“How long have you been together, if you don’t mind us asking?” The last one asked.

“Yes, yes, thank you, and almost a year,” Kimi answered honestly with a small smile as he continued signing things. He took a couple of pictures with them before chucking as he continued his original thought, “We haven’t announced it yet, but we’re planning it.”

“I got a good shot,” The third fan exclaimed, pulling out their phone to show him the picture. It was of him leaning over you just before you noticed their presence. This was the picture that alerted you of the audience. “I can send it to you if you want to use it.”

“That would be great. I’ll credit you in it too,” He laughed, looking back at you, still sitting on the grass, hiding your face from the onlookers. Kimi sighed, turning back to the group to make a deal, “I’m going to head back to them, but send it to me, and we’ll post it tomorrow. Just don’t post any of the pictures please.”

He didn’t give them much time to reply before he walked back over to you and sat behind you. His body shielding you away from the rest of the people, your backs toward the group. Kimi leaned his head on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your torso and showed you his phone.

The Instagram DM from the fan had already arrived, and he wanted you to see the picture. “I think this is the perfect way to announce us.”

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#andrea kimi antonelli x reader #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi x reader #kimi antonelli #freca #formula 2 x reader #formula 3 x reader #formula regional #formula 2 imagine #f2 x reader #f3 x reader #f2 imagine #f3 #f2 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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cutecinnamon · 22 days

Text

Concurrence I

{ Concurrence I: A Declared Traitor • Levi x Reader }

CW: ⊹₊ MDNI ⊹₊ Pregnancy ⊹₊ Somewhat Explicit Smut Details ⊹₊ Levi Cares Despite The Circumstance ⊹₊

:gif from pinterest

• 2.3k word count •

Note: Concurrence II is now up ♡

: divider by @cafekitsune

Synopsis:

(Y/n) was a soldier under Levi's squad, she was a very skillful and effienciently trained scout until one day her cover was blown and the whole squad found out that she was in fact a Marleyan, and she was a warrior sent as an agent to infiltrate the survey corps. When Levi and the others found out she was to be executed until Queen Historia decided that the best punishment for her was to in fact stay at the survey corps since she was one of the most liable scouts, but one thing she did not expect was that she was ordered to carry the child of Humanity's strongest in order to keep the Ackerman Bloodline alive.

PART I

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The gentle breeze of the air touched your skin, it was cold.

Ever since the cat was out of the bag it became almost impossible to gain the reputation in the survey corps you once had.

You gently looked down at your belly, it was still not showing.

You then remembered the words of the queen that changed your life.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"(y/n) how can you do this...? " Historia asked her, her gaze flickered with doubt and cold acceptance of the situation.

"Forgive me Historia, please know that I never intended to be a traitor to the survey corps... even if I'm not an Eldian by blood, my loyalty belongs to everyone here, in the walls, to Captain Levi and the survey corps."

(y/n) told Historia while kneeling, facing the consequences of her actions as a declared traitor.

"I know you (y/n), We have been under Levi's squad and I can tell that it wasn't all an act and show... that your loyalty was indeed with us... despite you being sent here by Marley to infiltrate the corps."

Historia said knowingly, she did believe that

(y/n) never intended any of that to happen and she had grown to fight for Paradis.

"I will accept any punishment that will be dished out on me, whatever it is... I know the terms of the regiment and I will face the consequence of my actions wholeheartedly."

(y/n) said, looking at Historia, her gaze showing acceptance of what is to come towards her actions.

"You know that I won't punish you with death or anything of that sort (y/n), I know that you are needed in the squad and I know that you are a good person,"

Historia said, her orbs carried kindness, just like how she was when she was still reffered to as her former alias Krista.

"Although you are still a declared traitor and... there is this other thing..." Historia continued,

"The Ackerman Bloodline, it must live on." Historia stated, her gaze changing with a hint of austere.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

pitter-patter

The sound of raindrops making contact with your skin and the floor brings you back, pulling you away from your thoughts.

You looked at your uniform as it started to soak from the droplets of water meeting your now fragile body.

You were still out of it, after hearing the words fall from Commander Hange's mouth an hour ago.

"Looks like you're pregnant (y/n), Congratulations." Hange said, her voice laced with warmth and anticipation.

Although it was delivered with a cheery and accepting tone by the Commander, it was not something that you wanted to hear, especially given the case that this was the punishment dished out to you by Historia herself and the fact that the biological father also despises you due to your faults of being a declared traitor under his squad.

You continued to stand at the field despite the continued droplets of water becoming heavier.

You were lost in your thoughts, the overwhelming feeling of the potential present and future,

It was all too much.

You were once again pulled away from your spiraling thoughts when someone pulled your arm, it wasn't the most gentle gesture but it also wasn't the harshtest.

"Snap out of it (y/n)." Levi firmly reminded while leading you to the barracks, to your shared quarters,

Levi didn't say anything afterwards, the walk towards your shared quarters was very quiet.

When you both reached the door, he opens it and drags you in despite your uniform dripping from the cold rain you openly welcomed while standing at the field spacing out earlier.

Levi closed the door, he then approaches you. The same distant, cold and hardened gray orbs was met by your gaze, despite the news he still maintained the same demanor, unfazed.

Turns out that Hange had a discussion with Levi telling him the news while you were at the field drenching yourself in the rain while your thoughts and feelings were all over the place.

"Tch, are you really that fucking careless (y/n)?" Levi asked her, his gaze piercing her.

"Sorry, I was just out of it, Captain." (y/n) replied, trying to keep her emotions in check, it was honestly an indescribable feeling.

"Change your clothes, you shouldn't get sick." Levi told her, though his tone of voice was void of concern and was laced with a hint of annoyance, he did care for her, and their now existing baby inside of her.

"Do you know...?" (y/n) asked, looking at Levi.

"Do you think I'm dumb? Besides, four eyes already discussed it to me." Levi responded, his tone still hinted subtle annoyance.

Levi approaches their wooden closet, he then grabs (y/n)'s white colored silk nightgown which was neatly folded and hands it to her.

"Take a bath and change, we wouldn't want you and that growing baby inside you to get sick." Levi told (y/n) his voice in monotone, his gaze still the same, with that unbothered and unfazed look to it.

(y/n) took the neatly folded silk nightgown, muttering a "Thank you." to her Captain.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You knew that your relationship with the Captain wasn't the best ever since your identity of being "A Marleyan warrior sent to the survey corps to infiltrate them to get intel" was disclosed.

When everyone found out in your squad, they're jaws were all hanging open and they can't seem to grasp that you were a traitor,

The betrayal was far too foreseen.

You were a very skilled scout and edition to Levi's squad, especially when it came to your mission to protect Eren.

Your relationship with Levi was not bad too, although it was only civil, he did see potential in you, hell you even sometimes have tea with him at his office after helping him clean.

Which adds to the more disappointment and hatred that Levi has for you.

Although he still somewhat acts civil with you, you know deep down that he hates you, and the idea of concieving a child with you was indeed a burden for him.

"I mean, who would want a child from a traitor anyways?"

That phrase or question, the usual you hear from a few scouts who had heard about your rumored punishment.

After taking a warm bath, you wore the white silk nightgown as you proceeded to leave the bathroom.

You and Levi had been sharing quarters ever since you were exposed at the regiment about you true identity, It was an order that you are to be watched by Levi as he can end you with a swift if you are still proven guilty for the past accusations against you.

You went to your side of the bed, there is only one bedroom but it has two beds with a small space in between which was occupied by a small nightstand.

A few minutes prior, the Captain also entered the room, approaching your bed as you sat down at the soft neatly covered cushion.

"Don't be careless again brat." Levi stated, his tone hardly annoyed but still maintaining its usual monotone.

"Yes Captain," you simply responded avoiding his gaze, unsure how to face your captain,

Unsure how to face the father of your developing child.

"I'm sure that you were thought as a cadet to look at your superiors when taking with them."

Levi reminded you of your current behavior with his stern tone of speaking as you continued to avoid any eye contact with him.

You tried your best to look at him, meeting his piercing gray orbs.

"My apologies Captain, that was wrong and disrespectful of me." You stated, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him.

"Don't forget your ground (y/n), even if you're pregnant with my child, that doesn't change anything." Levi said, the coldness of his voice still lingering.

You nod at Levi, while maintaining eye contact with him.

"Yes Captain, I understand." You replied trying to keep your voice monotone despite the overwhelming feelings you were feeling.

You were seeking for comfort,

Namely Levi's comfort,

The comfort of your baby's father.

The news still struck you with many emotions of uncertainty, and it all wasn't easy.

Your mind then went back to the day that you and the Captain were both trying to conceive, it wasn't the most romantic gesture like others described it to be, reaching cloud nine, but then again you still reached that high, despite knowing better than anyone that given your circumstance, affection was doomed to be devoid between the two of you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The room was lit dim with candle lights, The smell of Chamomile lingering the room's gentle atmosphere. A few moans and groans were heard from the room.

"Ca- Captain..." you moaned out, as you arched your back feeling Levi's lips making contact with your already wet core.

"I shouldn't be enjoying this... this is suppose to be a punishment, damn you (y/n)". Levi said as he continued to burry his lips and tongue towards your moist and slippery entrance.

"I... I'm close... Captain Lev-" Levi cuts you off, as he continued to burry his tongue deeper reaching for your sweet spot that makes you see stars, as tears started to blur your sight from the overwhelming pleasure running its course throughout your body.

"Give it to me, let go." Levi said with his usual monotone and cold voice, but despite the cold gaze he always conveys, you also saw hunger and anticipation in his orbs as he looked at you while you lose yourself into the pleasure with the work of his tongue.

Your back arches as you let go a muffled moan echoing throughout your shared quarters as you grabbed Levi's raven black hair.

"Good girl, now let me fill you up until you carry my child, you Marleyan brat." Levi stated as he started to align his tip in your sensitive yet still soaking core.

As Levi pushed his length inside of you all you can do is remember the punishment dished out for you, for being a Marleyan traitor who infiltrated the scouts.

"You are ordered to carry the offspring of Captain Levi as your punishment."

"Is.. is this really all for the punishment...?" you asked while feeling Levi's tip between your seizing needy walls.

"Do you actually think I'll make love to someone like you?" Levi asked with a hint of subtle sarcasm in his voice as he fully inserted his hard length inside of you.

"So... this is all nothing to you...?" you asked, although you know the answer all too well, at the back of your mind you were hoping for a different answer, as you felt each thrust Levi was giving you, it started out slow as he lets you adjust to his size.

"Nothing, just like how you mean nothing to me." Levi answered coldly with no hint of guilt, not even a flash of regret is visible in his eyes, as he continued to thrust deeper, his pace getting faster as he penetrated your walls.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"Nothing, just like how you mean nothing to me."

Levi's words were honestly stuck in your mind, playing like a broken cassette record.

You then decided to lay down on your bed while Levi was sitting on his chair near a small round table drinking his tea peacefully despite his unknown thoughts screaming loudly at him.

"(y/n), I know our situation is not ideal for the both of us." Levi stated while looking at his cup of tea.

"I am aware, Captain Levi." you simply stated, still feeling the needy desire to be wrapped around his arms while being comforted by his warmth.

Levi sighs, he knows what you need, even though he wants to provide it, he feels as if something is holding him back from giving you the comfort you very much seek for.

"You're a traitor." Levi stated while looking at your direction, you then decided to sit up making eye contact with him, both of your gaze meeting.

"No matter how much I explain myself, I do know I have that reputation in your eyes, and the whole regiment." answer him softly, at this rate you have come to the conclusion that nothing will change, it was impossible to change your image nor your fate after everything.

Levi stands up, leaving his cup of tea at the round table beside him.

He then makes his way towards you.

"(y/n) a scout never gives up, if you really want to return your proper reputation then prove yourself, the regiment is no place for pathetic and soft-hearted beings like you." Levi stated firmly while still maintaining eye contact with you.

"Captain... no matter what I do, I will always be viewed as a traitor, I'm a lost cost." at this point you were honestly at the verge of tears.

"Damn this pregnancy hormones," you continued to state, while wiping the tears forming in your eyes.

Levi then kneeled his right knee while you were sitting at your bed, making you both leveled.

"Listen to your Captain, I may not be fond of you but you are currently carrying my child, I do not wish for my child to have a mother who is a pathetic crybaby so stop crying."

Although Levi's voice was still the same with its usual stern and cold hint to it, his orbs were softer, making you come to the conclusion that he is at the very least trying to comfort you.

Your tears started to pour,

"Damn it brat, didn't I tell you not to cry?" Levi asked with the same tone of voice but then again, his gaze melting softer as he stood up, closing the distance between you both, he then pulled you into the warmth of his body, his arms holding you, while gently stroking your hair.

"Stop crying, I don't want your tears soaking my uniform." Levi reminded, still holding you gently betraying the coldness of his own tone of voice.

"Yes Captain... I understand." you softly replied while sobbing, as tears continued to pour from your eyes, soaking his scout uniform, although everything was a mess and out of place due to the overwhelming occurring events, you felt safe with the presence of your Captain's warmth meeting yours.

Maybe, he does care.

I hope you all like the first part of Concurrence,

Will start and write a few drafts for part II,

- Cinna ♡ ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

#concurrence #levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi

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scribblesofagoonerr · 14 days

Text

I just need you both right now...

Here's the second part for you all, hope you all like it!

I was a bit stupid at the start of the week and injured my knee so I currently can't do much other than rest it right now, so I'm back to writing again!

Thank you to @alotofpockets for her help as always! So so grateful!

Pairings: lia wälti x teen reader, caitlin foord x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Wally?” Leahs’ voice is anxious as she turns to the brunette Swiss woman, who has just finished parking her car outside of your mum’s new house.

“Probably not, but I want to know why on earth she thought it was appropriate to teach my daughter self-defence like that” Lia’s frustration seethes as she switches off the car’s ignition.

“Don’t be angry with Mum” You interject quickly, feeling the need to defend her. From your perspective, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with her actions, “It’s not her fault!” you assert pointedly.

Lia clicks her tongue and shakes her head in disagreement, “She shouldn’t be teaching you this in the first place, Y/F/N!” she exclaims, undoing her seatbelt.

“I think it’s best if I stay in the car” Leah decides, opting out of another potential argument between the two exes, her being there wouldn’t do very much to help right now.

“Okay, Le” Lia’s expression softens as she looks at the blonde before turning to you, slouched in the backseat, “Come on Y/N/N” she gestures for you to follow her out of the car.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car, following your mama’s lead as she strides towards the front door, her knuckles rapping impatiently.

“Alright, alright. Geez, I’m comin’ now. Just hold on!” A familiar voice grumbles from behind the closed door, which you immediately recognise as Ella, Katie’s younger sister who now lives with them.

“Hey, squirt. Shouldn’t you still be in school?” Ella asks, puzzled, as she greets you.

“Hi Ella!” You wave cheerfully, despite the circumstances of why you were here, “I was at school earlier, but then I got into trouble and well, now I’ve been suspended” You ramble your explanation, oblivious to the annoyed facial expression your mama currently has when you retell your account of events.

“Uh oh” Ella chuckles, amused by your latest antics.

You sometimes wished you could move in with your mum, although you miss the times’ that your mum and mama both lived together with you, things were so much easier then.

Cutting through the light banter, Lia gets straight to the point with the blonde girl, “Look, I’m not in the mood to mess around here, Ella. Where is Caitlin? I need to speak to her” she states.

“Uh, right, she’s inside the house. Hold on, I’ll shout for her now— Caitlin? Lia and the kids’ here!” Ella calls out, momentarily forgetting that she was currently live on TikTok, which was now buzzing with comments reacting to the conversation out of frame.

“Comin’ now!” Caitlin’s voice rings from inside the house.

Without much hesitation, you dart through the front door to greet Caitlin, “Mum!” You shout, practically leaping into her arms.

“Hey, kiddo” Caitlin is able to catch you mid-air, spinning you around in her arms, “So, what’s this that I heard you got into trouble at school, huh? That kid must’ve deserved it if they’re pickin’ on you!” she jests.

“I hit them good and proper, exactly like you taught me to do!” You proudly mimic the moves you’d used to defend yourself, “I remembered to hit her right where it hurts!” You add.

“Ah, that’s my girl!” Caitlin beams proudly, setting you back on the ground and ruffling your hair.

“Yeah, although mama’s not happy with you now though cos’ I just told her I did what you showed me” You innocently play the two women against each other.

“Oh boy” Caitln’s face clouds as she faces Lia’s disapproving gaze at the door, while Ella is still awkwardly holding her phone.

“You seriously taught Y/N self-defence?!” Lia’s anger simmers as she confronts her ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, why shouldn’t I have?” Caitlin fires back defensively.

Lia scoffs and shakes her head, “Because, no thanks to you and that ‘help’ it’s now led her to be suspended for the rest of the week!” she retorts incredulously.

“Whoa, whoa!” Caitlin holds her hands in self-surrender, “How is this all of a sudden just my fault?” The Australian woman furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

“Well I’m certainly not the one that taught her to use her fists, Caitlin!” Lia protests, her frustration evident.

“Uh, I don’t know what’s goin’ on right now, but uh— Oh shit, the lives’ still on” Ella mutters in realisation when she glances down at her phone and hurries to end it.

“I taught her self-defence in case she ever needed to use it, like today, for example” Caitlin argues, shaking her head.

Lia scoffs and shakes her head in disagreement with her ex, “If you hadn’t taught her it then she wouldn’t be in trouble at school in the first place!” she states firmly.

“Can I stay over here tonight, mum?” You look up at Caitlin expectantly.

“Of course you can, kiddo” Caitlin responds.

“No” Lia interjects.

You’re caught off guard by the conflicting responses from both of them, though you know that you don’t truly deserve to stay the night, all you crave is to be with your mum and mama and at least this way, you have both of them together right now.

Sometimes acting out feelings like the only solution to get their attention.

“She can stay if she wants to” Caitlin insists, glaring at Lia.

“It’s not your day, Caitlin” Lia reminds her.

“So? What does that matter– Let her spend the night here just this once, Lia. She obviously needs it with everything going on!” The Australian woman argues back.

“With everything going on? She got in trouble at school, Caitlin. This is serious– She doesn’t need to be rewarded for this behaviour!” Lia stands firm on her decision.

You shuffle your feet, a heavy weight settling in your chest as you listen to the heated exchange between your moms once again. The constant bickering, the never-ending tension– It’s like a suffocating cloud, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

As Lia and Caitlin argue yet again, you can’t help but feel like your own problems are trivial in comparison. The bullying at school, the taunts, the physical attacks– They all seem so insignificant when your moms’ can’t even stop fighting long enough to notice.

You thought about telling them in the past, about opening up and seeking their support, but every time you muster the courage, their voices rise again, drowning out your own.

Sometimes it feels like your problems don’t matter, as if they’re too consumed by their own issues to care about yours, so it’s easiest to just suffer in silence, plastering on a smile to hide the pain, pretending like everything’s okay when it’s anything but.

You long for the days when your moms were a united front, when you felt safe and loved, and understood; Now, you just have to navigate between their two households where it feels like sometimes you’re walking on eggshells.

Sometimes you feel so lost, unsure what to do but somehow you decided down the road, it was just better to hide your feelings away from everyone who cared about you.

You made it so that neither of your mums’ realised what was going on and they just thought it was the typical misbehaviour from a teenager.

“How about you let me decide what I want to do instead of just assuming?” You speak up, tired of their endless bickering, “I’m almost 16 now, I can make my own decisions!”

You really didn’t mean to yell, but you’re fed up now. You need both of them to set aside their differences and support you.

Why was that so difficult?

“I just… I just need you both right now, I need you both together– And you can’t even stay within the same distance before you just end up yelling at one another!” You cry out, hoping they’ll understand your plea.

At least that seemed to have gotten both of their attention when they looked at you confused.

“What’re you talking about, kiddo?” Caitlin frowns, confused.

Lia turns to you bewildered, “What’s wrong, Y/N/N?” she asks, concern etched on her face.

You shuffle nervously on your feet as you try and muster up the courage to explain what has been going on.

When did things become so difficult to talk about?

“I’m being bullied…” Your voice trembles as you force the words out, a knot tightening in your throat, “It’s been going on for a while, I…. I just didn’t know how to tell you both because you’re so wrapped up in arguing with each other to care about me!” You confess, your fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on your school jumper.

Lia gasps in shock, her eyes widening in realisation, “What? That’s not true, Y/N/N” she disputes, her tone softening with concern.

Feeling a glimmer of hope at Lia’s response, you meet her gaze, your eyes pleading for understanding, “But it is true, mama” You insist, your voice shaky but determined, “Every time I’ve tried to talk to you about this, you’re either arguing or too busy with your own stuff to notice” You tell her.

Caitlin’s expression softens as she takes in your words, a pang of guilt flashing across her features, “I’m sorry kiddo” she murmurs, her voice laced with regret, “I didn’t realise… I’ve been so caught up in everything lately. I… We didn’t see how much you were hurting” she states in concern.

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you nod, a wave of relief washing over you at their acknowledgement, “It’s okay” You whisper, feeling a weight lifting from your shoulders, “I just… I just need you to both be there for me, to listen and to understand me” you tell them honestly.

Lia reaches out, pulling you into a tight hug, her embrace offering comfort and reassurance, “We will be, sweetheart” she promises, her voice gentle as she glances at Caitlin who nods in agreement, “We’re here for you, no matter what” she adds.

Caitlin joins the embrace, wrapping her arms around both of you, her eyes reflecting a mix of regret and determination, “We’ll figure this out, together” she vows, her voice firm with resolve.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love and support, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you. Despite the challenges ahead, you know that with your moms by your side, you can face anything.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #lia wälti x reader #caitlin foord x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

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redroses07 · 2 months

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F**k It I Love You /// Michael Langdon

Michael Langdon x Fem!reader

Summary: Reader is a witch, but her and Michael seem to have a special connection. So what happens when her coven has to oversee Michael taking the test of The Seven Wonders. Will she stay loyal to her coven, or herself?

CW: Swearing, Kissing, Alludes to smut, Sexual themes, some violence.

WC: 3.2k

A/N: Hey guys!!! My first full fic after my year long disappearance!!! I really like this and I'm super excited to post it! I'll definitely make a part two if this does good, or upon request. With perhaps smut? Anyways I hope everyone is doing well!! Love y'all and as always, enjoy! ♡⋆˙

You sit in your lonely, over sized room at Miss Robichaux's academy, awaiting this afternoon's daunting task. You and the rest of the witches on the council, including Zoe, Myrtle, and Cordelia, were to visit Hawthorne school for young warlocks.

It was a place where none of the witches, including you, enjoyed visiting. Mostly due to the crude and pompous attitude of the warlocks towards you and your sisters.

It's not your fault that warlocks were naturally inferior to witches. Come to think of it you had never met a warlock who was so much as tolerable. Well...that is until a few months ago.

This particular visit to Hawthorne was something no witch, or warlock for that matter, had ever thought would come to pass.

For the first time ever, the test of the Seven Wonders will be performed on a warlock. A young man named Michael Langdon.

From the beginning Cordelia, your coven's supreme, had refused to perform this test deeming that it would be suicide. That was until Michael brought two witches, Queenie and Madison, back from the dead.

While this changed her mind, it also raised her concerns about Michael.

Cordelia had called a meeting with you and the rest of the council prior to your departure. She had described a darkness in Michael, one she had never seen in someone before. She described his energy as almost inhuman, something otherworldly.

"I am warning you all, proceed with caution." Cordelia had said.

While you smiled and agreed like you had been made to do, you had other thoughts on your mind.

You had connected with Michael from the moment you first met him, and in a way you had never experienced with another. Your fellow witches had been standoffish and dismissive to him, most likely feeling threatened by his power, you didn't feel the need.

He seemed to feel comfortable around you from the beginning. You didn't know if it was because you were the only witch who cared enough to treat him like a human being, or if there were other reasons. Despite that, conversation with Michael came easy, and the more interactions the two of you had the closer you became.

What was originally a simple act of kindness turned into prolonged eye contact and uncontrollable eye contact. The increasingly frequent visits to Hawthorne began to feel less like a punishment and more like a reward.

No matter, your sisters came first, which meant you had to push your growing emotions away.

Under any other circumstance you would be excited to see your friend, but the Seven Wonders weren't just any other event. Especially after Cordelia's warning, so unfortunately today was going to be stressful no matter what.

"Hurry up everyone, time to go!" you heard Cordelia call, annoyance in her voice.

You jumped up, not wanting to anger her further, fixed your hat, and headed down the stairs.

You, Cordelia, Zoe, and Myrtle all gathered in a circle in order to transmutate to Hawthorne collectively. Queenie and Madison also joined you, Madison wearing her iconic scowl.

You stood next to Zoe, your favorite among the council. Not that you disliked the other witches...but Myrtle was a little batty and Cordelia was well...Cordelia.

"Prepare yourselves sisters." Cordelia said softly, a serious look on her face.

Next thing you knew, your group was standing outside the strange structure that was Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men.

The six of you walked in, all trailing behind Cordelia.

You passed through the dark corridors, trying to hide the fact that you hoped Michael would appear around the corner.

When you and your magical companions made it to the room where the testing would take place you were greeted by warlock Ariel Augustus.

Out of all the warlocks you despised he was by far the worst, there was just something so off-putting about him. Yet you still shook his hand and gave him a half-hearted smile.

You gave the room a quick glance, looking for Michael.

"And when will Michael be joining us?" You asked Ariel.

"I would like to get this over as quickly as possible" You add, in an effort to seem disinterested.

Ariel looks at you with a sour face before looking over your shoulder towards the door.

"Well, it looks like you've got your wish because here comes the young warlock now." Ariel replies with distaste.

You turn around, and are faced with Michael's golden locks and icy blue eyes. He's wearing his usual, a long black cloak over his school uniform, yet he somehow manages to make the basic outfit look better than ever.

"Hello Michael." You say formally, keeping your serious composure. All while the two of you exchange a playful look, agreeing that these formalities are ridiculous.

Michael greeted you and the two of you drifted off to the far side of the room where you pretended to make small talk.

"God, this is so stressful." Michael says to you, breathing out a frustrated sigh.

Around others Michael had the tendency to put on a show, but never for you. With you, he was free of judgement.

"It'll be okay, just trust your instincts. You've got this." If Cordelia knew you were giving Michael advice you would surely be punished, but she doesn't need to know.

Michael shifted on his feet and looked at the ground, failing at hiding the blush creeping up his pale cheeks.

You almost reached out to give him a hug of reassurance but then remembered the others in the room. If you were being honest with yourself you really did have feelings for him, although reality told you that would never work out.

"Can we all just shut up and get on with this shit." Madison announced with an eye roll.

It was never a dull moment with her around.

"Yes, yes." Myrtle said.

Everyone took a seat as Cordelia began to explain the rules of the seven wonders.

You and Michael stood near each other behind a couch.

You figured since your lower bodies were hidden from the others it would be safe to reach out and squeeze his hand for reassurance.

You slowly put Michael's hand in yours and ran your fingers across his knuckles. His palms were sweaty. You truly believed you were the only one who sympathized with him on this, and you were glad you could give him that.

You and Michael made eye contact and exchanged a look of longing.

You broke the eye contact to look at Zoe who was giving you a look as if to say "stop what you're doing." She knew, of course she knew. Zoe was your best friend, of course she could tell when you liked a boy. Even if the circumstances were far more dire than your average high school romance.

You drop Michael's hand but he reaches back over and pulls it back, signaling "stay"

You sigh, what on earth were you getting yourself into.

"Okay, now if the rules are understood, we may begin." Cordelia announced, while scanning the room.

No one objected, and Ariel motioned for you all to follow him.

You felt the warmth of Michael's hand leaving you, and you were released from your own thoughts. You looked over at him to see him slowly walking towards the exit.

"Come on," Michael called back to you giving you a half-hearted smile.

You hurriedly caught up with him and the rest of the group, although the both of you remained at the end of the pack.

Ariel led you down a series of dark corridors. They all looked the same, and you began to lose count of the amount of turns you had taken.

Good luck getting out of here if you needed to make a break for it, you thought to yourself.

When you finally reached your destination, everyone gathered in the center of the large room. It looked just like every other room at Hawthorne, drab and dungeon-like. The only difference here was that it was larger and relatively empty.

Cordelia stood in the center of the room, a stern expression on her face.

"The first of the seven wonders, Telekinesis." She pointed to Michael, calling for him to join her in the center of the room.

You watched him as he walked towards her. He did almost too good of a job at hiding his nerves, walking with such effortless grace. You were almost envious.

Michael pointed to a candle hanging on the wall along the far side of the room. The candle quickly floated into his grasp.

The warlocks applauded, looking thrilled with his performance.

Telekinesis was the easiest of the seven wonders, and one any basic witch or warlock could easily achieve. So, naturally you and your fellow witches remained unimpressed.

"Next is Concilium, or mind control." Cordelia explained, gesturing for Michael to begin.

Michael also demonstrated this with ease, making Zoe and Madison perform a dance before everyone's eyes.

The next four Seven Wonders, Transmutation, Divination, Pyrokinesis, and Vitalum Vitalus, were all demonstrated by Michael perfectly. Even better than yourself you had to admit, which was odd considering how inexperienced he was.

The further the test progressed, the more concerned the members of your coven looked. You were torn, as you usually were when it came to Michael. Part of you shared your coven's concerns, after all, a male supreme would change the course of all of your lives. The rational part of you did not ever want to see a world where the powers of a warlock surpassed yours. Yet another part of you, the part that cared for Michael, wanted him to succeed despite all other factors.

Although the hardest test of the Seven Wonders, Descensum, had yet to be tested. And you knew Cordelia wouldn't let Michael get off without adding a catch.

"Today, I'm not asking you to perform this wonder...I am asking you to conquer it." Just as you had expected, Cordelia was going to twist the rules.

Cordelia proceeded to ask Michael to retrieve the long lost Misty Day from the underworld, where she was banished after being unable to achieve the seventh wonder.

You glanced over at Michael, who stared Cordelia dead in the eye. You weren't surprised that he looked unfazed, he had in fact done this before when he brought Madison back from the dead.

Despite that, the warlocks were outraged, arguing with Cordelia about the task's unfairness.

"It's okay, I'll do it." Michael said calmly and definitively, shutting everyone up.

You gave Michael a concerned look, which he combated with a soft smile.

Michael laid down on the floor, getting in the position needed for the task. He began reciting the spell, which was a jumble of Latin words.

Michael then fell into a deep trance, signaling that the process of Descensum had begun.

Now all that was left to do was to wait.

You walked to the back of the room and sat in a chair next to Zoe and Queenie. You tapped your foot on the floor nervously, your heel making a repetitive clicking noise.

You waited in silence for about ten minutes, your eyes glued to Michael just in case.

"My god how long is this supposed to take, some people have things to do." Madison huffed, and as if on cue Michael shot up into a sitting position.

You, along with everyone else, rushed forward in anticipation.

"Where's Misty?" Cordelia demanded angrily.

Michael said nothing. He stared blankly at the wall, breathing heavily.

Before you could stop yourself you leaned down to check if he was okay, but just as you placed your hand on his shoulder someone's tight grip pulled you back.

"Watch out!" Zoe yelled, as she yanked you towards her.

You stumbled over your feet, nearly losing your balance. You looked below you and your eyes widened at what you saw.

Misty had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and right where you had been only moments before.

You were in shock, and apparently so was Cordelia.

She dropped to the ground and pulled Misty into a tight hug, tears falling from her face.

You looked over at Michael, who staggered back towards a table in the corner of the room. He looked exhausted, and you fought the urge to ask him if he was okay.

Your focus shifted when you heard Misty call your name.

The curly haired woman gave you a long teary eyed hug, and you only now realized how much you had missed her. You made a mental note to thank Michael for this reunion later.

"Cordelia!" Queenie yelled, and once again you were forced to shift your attention.

Cordelia was hunched over, blood running down her nose. She looked weak, like she had after seeing Queenie and Madison return.

"What's happening?" Madison shouted.

"What happens every time a new supreme rises, the old one begins to fade." One of the warlocks said proudly.

"You're a pathetic pompous ass!" Myrtle spat, pulling Cordelia close to her.

You followed her example and stepped closer to your supreme, putting your hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

"There is no denying it...Michael is the new supreme." Cordelia huffed before nearly collapsing to the floor.

You gasped, scrambling to help her back to her feet. Once Cordelia was stable again Myrtle and Misty carried her to a private room to help her recover.

"Well...I guess we will reconvene later." Ariel announced to the rooms remaining occupants.

As everyone began to file out of the room you saw Michael head in your direction. You began walking over to meet him when Zoe grabbed onto your arm once more.

She pulled you in the opposite direction and loudly announced, "Can I talk to you for a moment."

Before you had time to object she had pulled you out of the room and down one of the many dark corridors.

"Zoe is everything o-" She cut you off.

"Do you know how dangerous what you're doing is?" Zoe scolded.

Your stomach dropped.

"What do you mean..." you replied, acting clueless.

Zoe sighed in frustration.

'I'm your best friend, you think I don't see how you two look at each other?"

Dammit. Was it that obvious?

"Zoe, I know it's wrong. I know the coven will disapprove. I'm sorry. I'll make it go away, I promise." You sounded defeated.

Zoe pursed her lips. "Listen, I'm not saying you have to stop. I'm just saying be better at hiding it. Cause you know what will happen if Cordelia finds out."

You sighed, she was right. Cordelia would be furious if she knew, especially since she was already so suspicious of Michael. It would likely even be grounds for being burned at the stake.

"I'm just saying be careful is all, but other than that my lips are sealed." Zoe said.

You nodded in agreement and smiled at your friend.

"Be safe." Zoe hugged you quickly before walking off to go check on Cordelia.

You turned on your heel and walked down the hall, a long sigh escaping your lips.

As you turned the corner you felt someone's strong grip pull you down a darkened hall.

"What the hell-"

You looked up to see Michael looming above you.

"Jesus, Michael you scared me." You gasped, hand on your fast beating heart.

"I heard everything, everything Zoe said to you." Michael said, his piercing blue eyes burning into yours.

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

"Michael. She's right you know. I mean my coven hates you, what would they think?" You explained.

"Shhhh.." Michael whispered as he brought his index finger to your lips.

"I don't care, what we have is more important."

"Don't you agree?"

Michael took your hands in his and brought them to his chest. He looked at you in a pleading, almost desperate way.

"Michael, I-" You said unsure of your actions. You knew the consequences of betraying your coven, but were you ready to embrace them? you didn't know.

"Please..." Michael stammered.

You felt his hot breath against your already warm skin. The strong scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. everything about him was irresistible, it was all just too much.

"I can't wait any longer. I need this, I need you." Michael said.

That was it for you.

"Oh just fuck it." You said before pressing your lips harshly to his.

You pulled Michael down by the front of his shirt to better adjust to his height.

The kiss was short lived, but that didn't stop you from wanting more.

Thankfully Michael felt the same because he reached for the nearest door and opened it, pulling you inside.

He kissed you sloppily and hungrily as he yanked you through the doorway. He slammed the door behind you while continuing to kiss you.

"Is this a closet?" You asked, looking around at the small space.

"I believe so..." Michael replied, smiling at you.

You laughed and kissed him again.

Michael pushed you into the corner while kissing you slowly. He bit down on your lip, drawing a significant amount of blood. You let out a soft moan as Michael sucked at the small wound.

Michael broke the kiss and gazed at you lovingly.

"God you're so beautiful."

You smiled, trying to hide your flustered reaction. He made your heart do back flips.

Michael kissed you on the cheek, then your lips again.

"Everyone's probably looking for me, I can't be gone too long. After all I am the supreme now." Michael said with a smirk.

"Just a few more minutes please." You whined, pulling him into you.

'Well, I guess I can make time for you." Michael kissed you harshly as if this was the last chance he'd ever get to.

His hand snaked down your back and stopped to tightly wrap around your waist. You couldn't hear anything except heavy breathing from the both of you.

You reached up, lacing your fingers through Michael's hair. You pulled at the long blonde locks.

Michael put his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up around his waist. This gave his easier access to your neck and chest, which he began pressing desperate kisses to.

Michael nipped and sucked at your neck and parts of your slightly exposed chest. Only then did you feel something poking you beneath where your legs were wrapped around Michael's waist.

"Well someone's excited." You stated.

"What can I say?" Michael laughed softly.

You smiled, rolling your eyes at his sarcasm.

"Want me to take care of that for you?"

Michael's face turned red, clearly embarrassed. As much as he tried to hide behind his 'bad boy' persona, he truly was just an awkward guy.

"As much as I'd love that it'll have to be another time. Unfortunately I have more important things to take care of." Michael sighed.

You frowned, disappointed. He was right.

"How about this. Tomorrow night we meet, and we can finish what we started." Michael inquired, tracing his finger across your jawline.

You smiled,

"That works for me."

On that note you and Michael exited the cramped closet. But before stepping out into the hall Michael pulled you in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you lovingly, and you sank into his touch.

"I love you." Michael whispered so quietly you could barely hear him.

"I love you too." You replied with no hesitation.

Michael kissed you on the forehead before stepping out into the hall.

"Till tomorrow, my love." Were his parting words as Michael disappeared around the corner.

You laughed to yourself, what an adventure this was going to be.

#american horror story #ahs fandom #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs murder house #ahs coven #michael langdon x you #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #ahs x reader #cody fern #zoe benson #ahs fanfiction #ahs #michael langdon smut

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annabelle--cane · 5 months

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im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.

#tma #answered #anons #suicide ment

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lolokouhm · 6 months

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PRETTY PLEASE? pt.I

Out of all humans walking on this Earth, Satoru Gojo might be the most impatient one.

The clock seems to have stopped the moment you walked out of his apartment, and despite his efforts to make the time flow at least a tiny bit faster, he’s miserable. That’s not how the night was supposed to go - he had plans, and one thing about Satoru is that he hates when his plans end up in ruin. This time though, there is only one person he can blame, and that is himself. It’s not your fault that when you were telling him about the girls’ night you had planned weeks ago with your besties, he was dozing off, playing with those tiny buttons on your favourite shirt. He couldn’t help himself - there was something so mesmerising about the act, and Satoru got invested.

He’d very much prefer to get invested in anything involving you than to sit alone in his apartment, waiting for you to call. At least you asked him to pick you up after you’re done - otherwise, he’d be sulking for weeks. He’s sulking now, laying on the bed, frustrated and alone, scrolling through every possible social media you use. At least there’s a tiny chance he’ll get a glimpse inside of the party you’re at, right? Wrong. You seem to be doing that on purpose, as there’s no new content for him to indulge in and sulk over even more. Satoru knows you’re the type of person who loves to overshare on the internet, so the current silence is quite suspicious. He’s trying his best not stress over it, as he swore he wouldn’t text and call, but his inner demon is really starting to sweat over it. He sighs. It’s so frustrating. Your relationship is a rather fresh subject and there were some areas of it that you haven’t really explored, but he was more than ready to do it tonight. To set the record straight - and after weeks of dating, movie nights and cook-offs in your apartment to officially ask you to become his girlfriend.

The thought of his perfect night with you yet again pops in his head as he drops the phone on the bed, trying to shake the uneasiness. In normal circumstances, he’d have you wrapped around his finger after a week, throw a random sentence that would suggest you’re a couple from now on and be done, but when it comes to you, nothing seems normal. Not his heart rate. Not his sex drive. Not his thoughts. If love’s a war, then he’s not the brightest soldier on the battlefield - it seems like everything about him is ruthlessly occupied by you.

Even his speed. It’s abnormal, how fast he’s picking the phone up when a notification from you finally appears on his screen. Satoru rushes to his car, excitement filling up his entire being to the point where the speed limits become relatively unimportant - even if he gets a fine, he would have more than enough to pay for that. There’s only one thing that’s priceless, and that is, time. To be exact - time with you, which he has a severe shortage of, no matter for how many hours he’s blessed to be in you presence. Even infinity seems like not enough.

His sufferings have finally come to an end, as Satoru has already parked in your bestie’s driveway. He takes out his phone and texts you „I’M HEREEE” with a million of random emojis, and then slowly leans his head on the cold window glass. From the pieces of information he’s managed to pull out from the darkest places of his memory, it seems like these girls’ nights are an annual thing that happen when one of your closest friends comes back to the city once in a while - she’s been studying overseas for the past few years, but your girlfriends and you are very serious about friendship and do everything in your power to keep it alive and kicking. The effort you put in the relationship pays off - you always have your girls to talk to, vent and cry, and they have you. He grins unconsciously. Another thing Satoru loves about you. You’re just such a sweetheart.

He observes the entrance, waiting for you to finally come out. It’s past 1 a.m and the whole neighbourhood seems to be sleeping. Satoru rolls the windows down a bit and as the freezing, but nicely refreshing air hits him, his eyes light up when he picks up a faint sound of your voice coming from the house. And then, just moments later, the doors open wide and a familiar shape emerges. Satoru instinctively fixes himself on the seat and brings both of his hands on the wheel, just to tighten his grip on them as you slowly come out from the shadows. He finally can see you, in your whole glory, when the light coming from one of the reflectors catches your frame.

You are so fucking cute.

Satoru’s smile grows bigger and bigger until it almost doesn’t fit his face. Cute is a perfect word to describe your whole being - incredibly wholesome, bright, at the same time dumb in some ways and extremely knowledgeable in the others. And tonight, Gojo Satoru is set on making you officially his.

He’s ready to go out and open the passenger’s door for you, but you’re faster, even though your legs feel slightly wobbly as you almost sprint to his car, determined to run away from autumn cold. You grip the handle and suddenly you’re welcomed by cozy warmth and Satoru’s overwhelming scent.

„Toru!”, you exclaim, basically throwing yourself into his open arms, giggling non-stop. The white-haired man in the driver’s seat grabs you instantly, hugging you tightly in his arms and you hide your face in his torso. You’re home.

He’s home.

„Hi, princess. I missed you so, sooo much”, he coos, not really paying attention to the fact that your body twisted in this awkward position may be activating some car options that he has no idea exist. You fit into his frame perfectly and that’s all that matters.

„Toooru”, you purr into his hoodie, words barely audible. He raises his hands from your waist to cup you chin and kiss you, but you’re faster - you sit up properly, making a place for yourself right on his lap. You slowly raise your head and then - Satoru notices. Your flushed cheeks. Your shiny eyes. Your adorable smile.

And then you drop it.

„Toru, I need you to fuck me. Please?”

masterlist ❤️

this will get a part two, it's just been sitting in my drafts for so long I had to post it haha based on a drabble I wrote some time ago. prepare for subby gojo I guess

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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venusiangguk · 2 years

Text

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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