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venusiangguk · 1 year

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the art of trying | jjk (m)

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

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

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

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

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

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

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

It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

I still miss you.

“Girl, what does that even mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Die.”

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

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

You also don’t get those texts anymore.

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

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

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

“Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

You nod pitifully.

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

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

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

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

“Has he reached out to you at all?”

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

Did you get home okay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dasom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

“A man,” Jade reasons.

It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

“He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

“He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

But you do not care and your phone is already out.

You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

“He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

“Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?”

“You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her.

Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for.

“Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

“No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

“Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

Just a couple of weeks ago.

And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason.

Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person.

You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work.

When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

“He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

“Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly.

Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing.

“We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

“Binna!” Jade scolds.

“No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

“She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

“In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

“I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point.

You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

~~~

The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time.

When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart.

You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

“I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

“You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

“Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants.

The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert.

“I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.”

Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy.

“Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure.

“I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up.

You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him.

~~~

The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets.

Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club.

Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get.

Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for.

It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses.

To no avail.

With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?”

Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features.

When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights.

And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine.

But, to you, he’s not really anything special.

Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him.

Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter.

Because you already know what makes someone special to you.

You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand.

The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you.

He’s not what you want.

You hum when you admit it to yourself.

“I’m not.”

Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

“You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

“Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room.

It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are.

Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings.

“I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–”

“Wait, I didn’t think that–”

“–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

A couple of stilted seconds pass.

“In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

“I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out.

Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying.

“You’re still young–”

You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

“Please shut the fuck up.”

The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

“Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?”

Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

“He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

“7 years?” you try.

Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

“He told you that you were too young?”

You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate.

Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

“I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

“Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

“This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

“I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

“A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

“‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

“Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

“Yes, I ca–”

“Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm.

You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

“Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house.

You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

You pause now.

“Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers.

What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

“Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

You sniffle. “Huh?”

His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

“Gee, thanks–”

“No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

“Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness.

He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

“Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up.

You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

“Yup.”

“It may help–”

“Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

“I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes.

A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand.

“See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

“If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

You’re definitely going to cry.

“And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years?

And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

“He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye.

Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

“Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place.

A short staring contest ensues.

“Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure.

Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel.

But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that.

“That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

“Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!”

It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it.

With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead.

“Can I get your number?”

~~~

It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart.

So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything.

After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.

As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference.

As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips.

As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed.

But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page.

Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !!

Jeongguk taps open the comments.

flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long.

But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post.

He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest.

The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn.

The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop.

Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

~~~

He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

“And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare.

With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

“Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.

After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush.

Jeongguk is still so jealous.

He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir.

They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

Jeongguk knows he should say something.

Explain.

Say sorry.

Ask for forgiveness.

But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him.

As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours.

He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it.

Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad.

It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality.

Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him.

You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him.

It looks internal, so personal.

Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety.

Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him.

You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

“I’m sorry!”

Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him.

Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

“I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over.

As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case.

“I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve.

“I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

“What about you? Have you been okay?”

Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same.

Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.

But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head.

Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks.

He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

Take care Gguk.

Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing.

It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him.

Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

~~~

Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

The moment is short-lived.

“Where’s Jeongguk?”

The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

“What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

Binna and Jade exchange a look.

“Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

You slow blink at them a single time.

An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore.

“Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

“Fair but–”

The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

“Wait, did you not want to work things out?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

“Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily.

“Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?”

Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?”

“You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

“You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

He came back to you.

It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next.

You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be?

Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met?

You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker.

“Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

“___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

And maybe it is.

~~~

It definitely isn’t.

Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote.

And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

You don’t even really know how it happened.

One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior.

All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by.

Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to.

There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar.

You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks.

Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself.

So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”

The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you.

“It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you.

Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his.

“It’s been months,” you tell him.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been.

Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment.

“Why now?” you question him.

Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound.

The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers.

“I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

“That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

“I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

“Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness.

He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?”

When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement.

The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned.

He’s still just as scared as he was.

Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did.

He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you.

It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder.

A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you.

It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

“It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.”

And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

“It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember.

He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.”

Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

“I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.”

There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for.

But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of.

Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you.

It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable.

Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that.

It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume.

The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.

Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult.

Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you.

Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands.

He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response.

“I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.”

“Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

“There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room.

“The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would.

But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that.

“But then I met you.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t.

But alas.

“All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

“I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

“Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact.

Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

“I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

“And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee.

“___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

“It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

“That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his.

He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology.

And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

“I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

“I know, I know you are– I am too–”

“Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.”

Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes.

“I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.”

The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little.

Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?”

Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt.

Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.

“Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

“Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly.

The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room.

He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize.

Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said.

He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him.

The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

“I know,” you reassure, gently.

And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say.

It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it.

Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own.

“Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them.

And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other.

So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together.

It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have.

But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

“Actually,” you start.

So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up.

“Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly.

And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault.

“No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–”

It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

“No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

“Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

“___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

You nod once.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“I should have listened to you.”

Again, you nod.

“I should have chosen you.”

It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

“But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then.

Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak.

“No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

“I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova.

“I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”

Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

“I want to try.”

“Yeah–”

“If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without.

He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours.”

Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck.

When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time.

His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh.

“I…”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes.

The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm.

The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch.

It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near.

It ends with a kiss.

Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless.

Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you.

“Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.

“I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–”

You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you.

“Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow.

“Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants.

A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt.

Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back.

There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours.

“You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected.

Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout.

“I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing.

And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.

“Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers.

He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame.

“Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can.

He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too.

And what a pretty sight you are.

Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

“Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags.

He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch.

“Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten.

“Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better.

“Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties.

He allows you your own pace as well.

Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you.

Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now.

Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.

“Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline.

“But I–”

“But I–” he flirts coyly.

Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.

Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so.

He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember.

Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his?

You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively.

Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.

Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled.

When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”, your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open.

Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin.

Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest.

He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug.

As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

“This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry.

Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms.

You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

“Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs.

“Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better.

Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl.

“Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice.

Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

“Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you.

“You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb.

“Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp.

Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs.

Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall.

“Too much?” he asks you.

With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least.

Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb.

The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly.

“Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.

When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

“It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

“Please–”

“Hush, ___.”

There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

“I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute.

He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

You shrug, snooty.

Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

“That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.

Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in.

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention.

Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh.

“I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

“Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

“Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible.

Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

“That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused.

Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny.

You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

“Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest.

You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?”

“You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

“It’s mine,” you argue.

“Ours,” he corrects.

After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly.

“Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away.

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time.

“Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy.

Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

“I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision.

In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

“You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily.

Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs.

“All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

“Oh my god,” you whimper.

Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.”

Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.

Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

You nod in his hold.

“Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks.

The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once.

“You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.

He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes.

“I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently.

On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses.

After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue.

“My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

“Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk.

He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

“I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

“Your mess–”

“Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

“Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands.

You suppose some things may never change.

The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you.

His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole.

In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high.

It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens.

But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

“I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again.

His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy.

With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

“You’re so hard…”

The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin.

“Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow.

The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off.

Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully.

“Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

“Like this?” you ask, coquettishly.

Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

“Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

“Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in.

Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm.

He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks.

“I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again.

You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

“Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.

Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’.

“I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him.

“You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum.

“Not– not yet?”

Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown.

A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant.

“Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape.

Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

And you can tell he’s going to cum.

He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.

It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm.

Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

“Good girl,” he says, softly.

His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin.

Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs.

“Can we do it now?”

His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused.

“Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock.

One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses..

He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening.

“Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

“Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again.

Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think.

“No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips..

His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?”

He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.

“On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear.

“Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan.

The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

“I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

“Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him.

But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long.

The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs.

And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

“Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.”

You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle.

It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making.

Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.”

Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

“Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you.

“Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

~~~

“Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand.

He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

“So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut.

“You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Everything is your fault.”

It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

“I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you.

“I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal.

“Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

“As long as you want me.”

Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not.

So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?”

~~~

However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once.

It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

“That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche.

“Of fucking course.”

“___.”

“No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your.

“Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid.

You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway.

“I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

“___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you.

“Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused.

Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal.

You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!! i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

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witch-hazels-musings · 1 year

Text

so long, loneliness

warning: hurt/comfort - (reader is ignored, talked over, feeling alienated by friends)

includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

character x gn reader | anthology

Childe

he notices ...

the energetic way you were talking has fizzled to nothing, like a sparkler whose flame was doused in a puddle

the power of your laugh has faded, been replaced the the obnoxious cadence of those around you

the way you try to interject, only for the opportunity to be stolen by another

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

Group outings were not your jam. You knew this, and yet you convinced yourself to go out with your friends, and their friends, because, well, it had been a while and it was good for you to get out of your house sometimes. Still, you wished it wasn’t such an exposed place, and that you’d chosen a spot more in the middle so it wasn’t easier for you to be left out of the conversation.

The group had been talking about their jobs for some time now and though you worked in a similar field, it was hard to interject with so much going on. Not to mention you kept feeling like someone was trying to get your attention, but maybe that was your imagination.

“Oh yeah- I’ve had customers like th-” you started, only to get nowhere.

“Ugh, one time this lady came in a few minutes before we closed and wanted to order like seven things off the menu!” One of the others in the party interjected, pulling the attention away from you and back toward them. At this point, you felt like it was on purpose, but you had to remind yourself they’d done that to everyone, you were the only one that stopped trying.

The edge started to feel lonelier and lonelier. The bustling harbor drew your attention since the conversation wasn’t worth your time anymore. You watched citizens pass underneath on the main strip. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as they stopped by the vendors to peruse their wares, or follow the tantalizing scent of freshly cooked food. If you could have it your way, that’s what you’d be doing - at least then you could more easily slip away.

There was a crash behind you, another table knocked a cup onto the ground but when you looked past them you saw a familiar face leaning against one of the decorated railings. Shooting a quick look at your table you realized you were the only person who noticed him but when you waved he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked upset, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“Um, I’ll be back,” you said to the person sitting next to you. You didn’t really know them, but at least they nodded to show they heard you before returning loudly to the conversation at the table.

You grabbed your stuff and carefully made your way toward the brooding man standing in the darkness. “This is why people don’t like you,” you teased once you got near enough. The tall ginger took a moment to react to you being there, but when he did his eyes seemed to finally find color.

“What?” he looked confused, but unlike what you’d experienced all night, at least he looked at you.

“You’re standing in the shadows with a murderous look on your face; it’s why people find it hard to approach you.”

“Now hold on, I have plenty of friends,” he shot back as he pushed himself away from the beam and placed his hands on his hips.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes but laughed at the shift in his behavior. You weren’t sure how Childe came into your life - it was like one moment he just ‘poof’d’ into existence and never left. The amount of times you stumbled across him was strange, considering how mysterious he made his life out to be. “Anyway, is there something bothering you? You’re face looks --” you asked, mimicking the expression you saw on him before taking a look across the scene as if seeing it from his perspective would give you insight into what made him scowl like that. From what you could tell, the only things visible were patrons of the restaurant, and the tops of buildings.

“Not anymore,” he responded and took a step between you and what you were looking at, “Come hang out with me.”

“W-What? Right now?”

“What better time than right now?”

“Childe, I’m with people. I can’t just go.”

“Yes you can. This place is dead. Besides, I’m way more fun,” he winked and took a step closer to you. It made your stomach flip, especially because he seemed to be boxing you in with little room to escape. This was another reason he had so many few friends - the intensity.

“Maybe -- but --” looking back to the group, you thought about what they’d say if you just left. It didn’t seem right to just dip out ... but ... you did consider doing just that a few minutes ago so ...

“Mmm, okay, I see where I stand. I get it, leave me here all by my lonesome ...” Childe bent toward the railing, his body crumbling as if the thought of your rejection physically hurt him.

“Ah! Hold on a second -” you pushed his chest to try and keep him from falling over and making an even bigger scene than his ‘despair’ was already causing, “archons, you know I like you! Now stand up, we’re in public,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the puppy-dog like expression he had, but as soon as he shifted back to the intense Childe, it was your turn to avoid crumbling to the floor.

“Hah,” he moved so fast. In an instant he pinned you in the corner, his hands gripping the railing to keep you in place while he closed the distance between the two of you, “so you do like me.”

Blinking, taken-aback, you stammered, unable to form a sentence. The sharp grin creeping across his lips made your skin burn; why was it so hard to breathe?

“And you said no one liked me.”

“I - wha-?”

Childe continued to look at you until his face became unreadable. He was looking at you, but it was ... more than that. It was like whiplash, and you weren’t sure how to survive it. Luckily, the group you came with erupted in noise and, in an instant, Childe moved giving you much needed space to breathe.

“Hey, come on! Don’t keep me waiting!” he shouted, already half-way down the stairs, hand extended, beckoning you to take it. Biting your lip, you contemplated where you wanted to be. Option one would lead you back to the edge of the table where you had to scramble to be heard, while option two ensured you’d be at the top right next to someone who actually wanted you there.

Rocking your head back and forth you gave it some more thought until your uncertainties turned into a nod. With a giddy smile on your face, you dashed toward him and grabbed his hand.

You couldn’t feel it, it was hard to tell, but when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him.

“Try and keep up!” he exclaimed but never ran faster than you could manage.

Diluc

he notices ...

the smile you had when you first arrived is hidden, is fake and doesn’t look like you

the way you fidget, leg bouncing, head down, nails pushing back the cuticles that have seen many stressors

the glances to the tavern entrance, your mind plotting the path to your escape

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

The tavern was always loud but for some reason it seemed louder today. Perhaps that’s why they couldn’t hear you when you spoke up, that makes sense? Right?

Your friends burst into laughter and you appeased them by participating even though you missed what was so funny.

“How can someone be so hot and so stupid at the same time” you heard as you took a sip of the drink you didn’t want in the first place. It tasted bitter, leaving an unpleasant tang in your mouth.

“This is why getting to know someone first is important. Ugh, and he thinks he’s all that. You should just break up with him.”

“Yeah -- but I like him,” the boy lamented across from you, his head dipping toward the wooden table in despair. In the back of your mind you knew this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. How many times had you tried to convince him to break it off, and how many times did your suggestions go unheard?

Still, there was a lull, perhaps you could interject, “I know you like him, but maybe this is your sig-”

“Friend, he literally can’t find his way around Mond,” your other friend interjected, cutting you off. If anyone were looking, they would have seen how much you deflated when the two of them kept talking, unaware you were there at all.

“It’s a hard to remember!”

“He’s lived here all his life!”

“So?”

“AND ITS A CIRCLE!” they shouted as they threw their arms in the air. The sudden loud outburst drew the attention of by-standards and you felt an uncomfortable amount of eyes on you.

“See, that’s hard to remember.”

“Honey, no,” they laughed and brought out a laugh from your friend sitting across from them before dropping their head in disbelief. “I can’t with you, hah.”

“I’m - um - going to go get more drinks --” you said but were cut off, ignored, again. Normally you didn’t mind. The three of you had been friends for so long and they were both a lot more energetic than you so even though it looked like they were alienating you, they really weren’t. It’s just how they were -- there were plenty of times you got the chance to talk -- at least for a bit -- sometimes. With a sigh, you turned toward the bar, their conversation fading the further away you got.

Most of the tables were filled so only a few spots were left open at the bar-top. A couple here, several loners there, and then you, sliding in between knowing you wouldn’t be here long enough to take one.

“I’ll be right with you,” the bartender said while you pulled out your money to settle the bill. This was your chance to leave - it was getting late, you had things to do tomorrow - your friends wouldn’t notice if you left anyway. Glancing back at them you saw they were in a heated conversation, unaware you weren’t still with them. Yup, they wouldn’t even notice. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, nothing I just-” you looked up and saw Diluc Ragnvindr standing on the other side of the bar. He tugged at his glove before resting it on the counter and you lost your train of thought. If anyone thought Diluc was unattractive, they’d be lying. “Sorry I -” Fumbling with your money, you took longer than you wanted in opening the small bag, “I just want to pay my tab.”

“Alright,” he left for a moment before returning with a small slip of paper. “That’ll be 400 mora.”

“Wh-Wait? Really?” You counted the drinks in your head and, based on what you could calculate, that didn’t add up.

“The last drink you had you didn’t like it, so I excluded it from your bill.”

How did he know you didn’t like it? Was he ...? “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, Diluc. I don’t mind,” you fingered through the change in your pouch fully intending to pay more than he requested. It would be wasteful otherwise.

“It’s no problem,” he reiterated and glanced at the table you came from, “Headed out for the night?”

“Yeah -- I um -- I have to get up early,” you lied.

“It’s late. Are your friends not going with you?” Diluc placed his hand back on the bar top. If you were looking at him, you might of noticed the way he stared down the loners within earshot of your conversation.

“No,” you answered with a sad smile, “they’re distracted, and I don’t want to shorten their fun so -- anyway, besides, I’m used to walking by myself,” you added and placed your mora on the counter, putting a few extra coins down as a ‘tip’. Diluc groaned, but didn’t say much else.

“Charles,” Diluc called out while you put your bag away and turned toward the door. There were a few people standing behind you, waiting to get close enough to order a drink; so you apologized as you pushed through them. When you reached the front entrance, you looked back to your friends to wave goodbye but they didn’t look up.

Suddenly, a hand appeared on the doorknob. You stepped back to move out of their way but were shocked to see it was Diluc. The look on your face was enough for him to answer the question floating in your head.

“I’ll walk you home,” he explained so matter-of-factly like it was expected of him to do so.

Throwing up your hands, you shook your head, “That’s really not necessary. Besides it’s so busy right now ...”

He opened the door and a wave of fresh nighttime washed over you. It mixed with the smell of cedar and wine, a somehow comforting scent. When he called your name you listened, “It’s late and would be unsafe for you to walk by yourself. I’ll ensure you get home safely.”

The noise from the tavern seemed so distant now that the outside world was welcoming you. It was like everything paused. Normally you had to jump at the change to interject, but Diluc wasn’t like that. He waited; with his hand on the door and the other extended toward your back but never touching. He waited.

“If you’re sure,” you hummed, a little overwhelmed from the intensity of him.

“I am,” he replied and though you couldn’t feel it, though it was hard to tell, when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him. “Shall we?” he asked and willed his heart to slow at the sound of your gentle laugh and a soft, ‘okay.’

Thoma

he notices ...

the way you stand to the side as those around you block you out; you’re kind, and they’ve taken advantage

the way you shake your head, say ‘go ahead,’ when you clearly wished they would have let you have it - at least once

the smile you hold when you speak up and the frown it turns into when you’re left with no reaction

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

The shops always had the best things. Lately they’d gotten even better; mostly likely due to the lifting of the vision hunt decree that kept the islands isolated from the rest of the world. With less restrictions, the vendors and merchants were finally able to bring in new wares which made the shopping districts boom with business.

You were excited to go with your friends, especially since you’d had to pick up extra shifts lately. It felt like eons since you last did something fun, something for you, so you made sure to take your time getting ready.

At first, things were normal, lively, inclusive, but as the evening went on you started to feel left out of the group. While you were still looking at a shop, everyone else was rushing down the packed street to see the next thing. The amount of times you turned to share what you found with a complete stranger, or find yourself scanning the crowd for your group would have been enough to pay for all the items you found.

Considering it had been a while for everyone to get together you tried your best to satiate the turmoil rising in your chest. It hurt to be left out, but would it hurt more to go home knowing you’d be left alone anyway? At least out here it seemed like you were a part of something.

“Oh! Look at how pretty! Let’s check it out!” Your friend shouted, her hands wrapped around two other friends as she pulled them after her. You all had agreed to hold onto each other so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd but as several people separated you from the rest of your group, you realized they had forgotten about it.

You didn’t recall eating anything, so why did your stomach hurt and your throat feel clogged? Frustrated, you pinched the bridge of your nose only to be knocked to the side by some kids rushing through the bustle. You stumbled into a group of older gentlemen who asked if you were okay. Embarrassed, you bowed in apologies only to bump into some woman who was less accepting of your ‘I’m so sorry.’ All you wanted was to have a good time and, right now, you were doing everything you could not crumble.

“Padron us,” someone interrupted your swirling thoughts as they grabbed your wrist and began to pull you through the crowd. You looked to see who it was but could only make out their bright red jacket and blonde, bouncing ponytail. “Oops - sorry about that,” he chuckled as he knocked into a group not paying attention to their surroundings, “almost through,” he said, seemingly, to you.

When the two of you were finally free, Thoma made sure you were safely out of the way before letting you go.

“Woah, that was wild wasn’t it?!” he chuckled and dusted himself off. He took note of his surroundings and you noted how he stood in front as if to shield you from the crowd.

It was hard to catch you breath, but you did what you could in the safety of the space Thoma created. “Thank you, Thoma.”

“No problem! It’s dangerous to be in a crowd like that alone.”

“Yeah, well I was-- yeah, super dangerous,” you said, biting back the comment you wanted to say, i wasn’t alone, or at least, wasn’t supposed to be. “What brings you here on such a busy day?”

Thoma ran his hands over his hair, the action pulled on the short red jacket he always wore, “Running some errands. I just needed to grab a few things, that’s all.”

“You always work so hard. You need a day off,” you commented while your eyes scanned the crowd for your friends. It was a small hope that you’d find them, but it was worth a shot.

“Haha, I don’t mind. Plus, if I hadn’t been out here I wouldn’t have stumbled across you. So, I’d call this a good day.”

You turned your attention back to Thoma who was rubbing the back of his neck and sending you a kind smile. You liked Thoma, of course you did. He was always so warm, thoughtful, and capable, it was impossible not to like him. And here he went out of his way to save you from the crowd. Add this to the reasons why you had such strong feelings for him.

“I guess I do owe you one for saving me.”

He threw up his hands, “Its no trouble-”

“Nope. It is. You’re super busy and I took some of your time. So, how can I help?” He seemed a bit shocked by your comment but after a moment he relaxed into soft laughter and resigned himself to accept he couldn’t wiggle his way out of it.

“If you want to come help me run some errands ... maybe?”

He looked so cute asking and you could already see his brain working on a way to convince you it was really alright. In the end, there was only one answer you could give him.

“Absolutely. I’m ready to work!” You rolled up your sleeves and moved next to him, ready to dive back into the crowd for Thoma.

He chuckled again as he turned about-face toward the slew of people. “Alright then. With two of us we’ll get it done in no time.”

You beamed, excited and ready to go. “Mmhm!”

With confidence, you took a step forward only to be stopped by Thoma’s hand around your wrist, “ah, maybe it’s better if I go first and you -- ahem -- hold onto me so we don’t get separated.” His cheeks looked a little red, and he could only manage to glance at you. Considering he was asking someone who wasn’t his partner to have prolonged physical contact with him, you understood how embarrassing the situation was (and hoped he couldn’t tell you thought the same).

“A-alright,” you agreed and watched as he guided your hand to red fabric that stuck out above his belt.

“Here we go, ready?” You nodded and took a step closer to him. The two of you shared flickering glances before he steadied himself and pushed forward, “P-Pardon us!”

You couldn’t feel it, it was hard to tell, but when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him.

Tomorrow, you’d tell your friends something came up and to not feel bad about being separated because, even if you weren’t with them, you didn’t end your night feeling lonely.

#hazels works #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x gn reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gn reader #thoma x gn reader #thoma x reader #genshin hurt/comfort

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mechaknight-98 · 4 months

Text

Party Time (NSFW): Session 0 FT: Dahyun

Author's note: For this chapter, I will be changing the character perspective of this story slightly. the characters will still be the same however I wanted to try something different. As I learn more I'll probably come up with a much better way of writing the characters and differencing between them.

PreSession 0

You were blared awake by your ringtone Our Song by Silverstein. you looked around confused to see what was going on when you picked up your phone to see it was a call from Atticus. you grab your phone and answer,

"Yo, what's up?"

"It's session 0 of our Uber campaign today," Atticus responded. "Don't tell me you forgot Mordekai." You groan because you had an alarm that was set to go off in 4 minutes.

"Atticus Why are you like this? Look I know you are anxious but you beat my alarm by 4 minutes. I was going to be there."

"But you said you didn't have a character."

"Yeah because I was going to choose based on what everyone else was."

You rub your face before responding, "Dude I just got off work. I don't have the patience for this conversation I'll talk to you in a bit."

"Okay see you soon, and get here safe. As..." Atticus began

"Yeah I know My safety is a priority," you respond

finishing Atticus' statement, and hanging up. "Ahhhh. you groan." knowing you lost the last 4 minutes you get up and start your character. when you start getting deeper into the build your alarm goes off and you begin the rush to get ready. You shower, brush your teeth, and leave to go. Unsurprisingly you are early. Atticus is happy to see you and asks to see your character sheet.

Atticus looks at your character sheet and groans before asking, "Monty...Why is there only a Name and a Class?"

"Well, I figured we could hash out more of the details when it came time, Like what subclass and what race?" You begin. Atticus looks at you annoyed before you qualify the statement with, "I don't want to encroach or step on toes and I know people don't play Monks all that often." You say

Atticus shrugs in understanding, "Okay Fair. How about this then You play the Avatar Race."

"the Avatar race? Never heard of em." You say flatly

Atticus laughs as he explains "Well that's because it's a race I made specifically for this campaign."

"Okay so what's it do?" you ask intrigued to play a new brew of Atticus'

Atticus pulls out a little cheat sheet with the races he had available, "Well it's simple. It's just a generic humanoid in all aspects that is just molded to your character. they gain; +1 to three ability scores, a Feat, A language, and a skill."

"that's a lot." You exclaim

"On paper sure but ultimately not really because those +1s are so marginally good." Atticus elaborates

You roll your eyes before saying"Well if I roll a bunch of odd numbers it's pretty good, or do point buy."

"Oh about that. so to ease everyone into the game we are doing actual character-building with our physical selves. so how good you are at things determines your actual stats." Atticus explains

"Huh?" You ask

"Yeah," Atticus affirms

"That's dumb and I love it Atticus." You say

The door to Atticus's home opens and you hear a tiny voice say "Hey Atticus my Unnies are on their way." you turn around to see Dahyun of Twice. You quickly turn back to Atticus who you look at.

"Hahaha." is Atticus's only response. you blink slowly and turn to face Dahyun.

"Wow like you are way prettier in person," you say to her Seeing her gorgeous face up close and not separated by a distance of several thousands of feet. Dahyun smiles at you with the most adorable smile.

"I like your necklace," Dahyun replies shyly. you smile at her.

"What are you playing?" Dahyun asks

"Oh I am just playing an Avatar monk, and you" you reply. You notice Atticus smirks and when Dahyun goes to grab his character sheet you shoot him a furious look.

"Oh Changeling Blood Hunter."

you raise your eyebrows surprised and reply, "Impressive." Dahyun was listening intently

Dahyun blushes slightly then smiles and says "Thank you"

"Great my two Chingu are getting along great Atticus says happily

Dahyun looks at you surprised "We are the same age?" you nod. She eases and replies "I thought I'd be the youngest."

"Nope, I believe that is David who is one year younger than us," you answer Dahyun nods and eases into you more. You smile at her and say “Excuse me miss. Are you trying to charm me?”

Dahyun gives you her dazzling eye smile and says, “Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?” you are taken aback by her boldness. You lift your hands in surrender, which causes Dahyun to laugh heartily.

The door opens again and Dahyun and you jump upon hearing it, taken out of the little world you two found yourself in. You turn to the door to see a young lady with pink hair apologizing profusely “Sorry for scaring you.” she says meekly. Dahyun and you quickly work to attempt to diminish the fears of the young girl as you both wave off her apology citing that you and she should have been paying attention. The girl smiles and hugs Atticus. You tilt your head but say nothing. The young lady then turns to the two of you and says “Hi I'm Jeewon nice to meet you.” Dahyun and you both wave at the girl. When she asks your names

“Mordekai. but everyone calls me Monty,” you say

“Dahyun” Dahyun adds Jeewon smiled brightly as she sat next to the two of you.

"So what are the the two of you playing ?" Jeewon asks brightly

"Avatar Monk," you answer

"Changeling blood hunter." Dahyun follows suit

You clap your hands in approval, "Ooh it gets sexier each time you say it." you say hyping up Dahyun who turns to you and blushes. she hits you and says "Stop it" but her gaze tells you not to stop.

"Are you two dating?" Jeewon asks intrigued.

"Nah we went on one date." You answer. Dahyun looks at you confused.

"Wait...Mountain?" Dahyun says as she realizes who you are. You smirk at Dahyun who smiles at you further. Atticus laughs when he makes the connection that when the two of you did that Rugby tournament a few years back and you said you had a date with a pretty girl was with Dahyun, but before anything else could be said the door opened again and a very bright voice crashed.

"Sorry, I am late. Traffic was really bad" A cheery voice says. As the group turns you see Sana skip into the living room. Sana recognizes you instantly and smiles

"Mordekai! How are you cutie?" Sana says as she envelops you in a clumsy hug.

"I am good noona, how about you?" You reply to Sana

"Oh, you know. being the prettiest in Twice is tough." She said

"Oh come on you know Dahyun's the prettiest." You counter

Sana feigns a pout before smiling at you and giggling. She took her seat next to Dahyun. After that, the rest of the "Party" fills in which includes members from Red Velvet (Irene and Seulgi), one from Twice (Nayeon), and surprisingly one member of Dreamcatcher (Handong). There are also four more guys who show up in this order David, Timothy, Alan, Kento, and Charlie. As more people show up you introduce yourself and appear friendly enough, but for the most part you stick to Dahyun and Atticus (When he's not swooning over Jeewon) as Dahyun speaks the best English and you know her the best. Eventually, Nayeon approaches you and says "Hey so we have a playlist featuring a song dedicated to everyone's character. Do you have anything in mind?

You scour your mind trying to find something but as it goes blank the choice rises from that.

"Power to Tearer." You reply. You notice Kento and Sana look at you as Nayeon nods.

"got it. I'll add it" she says.

Sana slinks over to you, "That's an interesting choice for a Character-inspired song."

"Well I figure this is the only place where it will be appreciated and understood," you reply. Sana smirks.

"You're pretty interesting Monty." Sana coos with a mischievous smirk, that worries you.

After y'all mingled for several minutes Seulgi stepped to the front and said, "Okay now that everyone knows each other partner up and each one of you give backstories for your characters."

you turn to Atticus but when Dahyun claims you as her partner. She seems anxious so you smile and say "Okay" to her.

"So what basic things would you like for me to include?" you ask Dahyun

"I want you to use your best judgment." Dahyun says and you give her a thumbs up and say, "Do you have any idea for a character name?" Dahyun shakes her head before saying just use her name. You nod and when Dahyun asks you the same questions your only response is the name, Montaigne. Dahyun gives you a gummy smile and gives you two thumbs up. you both begin spinning tales about the other as you write. you find yourself connecting with Dahyun more and more as you start looking at her and noticing her little ticks like how she puts her hair in front of her face when she's embarrassed or when she drops something the repeats "Oh mo mo Oh mo mo." It helps you write a more authentic Dahyun (the character)

After you two finish up Seulgi notices and says "OH Dahyun and..." She gestures to you and you give her your name. "Mordenkainen?" Seulgi asks for clarification.

"Mordekai." you clarify Seulgi nods focused and asks for you two to give your partners' backstory. You nod. seeing Dahyun's anxiety you go first.

You stand up in front of the party and muster all the confidence you can," Gather around as I tell you the tale Of Dahyun the Blood Hunter..." You hesitate and turn to Atticus. "Hey, What's the name of the World Again?"

"Daebak" Atticus answers

"Cool." You say to Atticus

"Not Cool, it Daebak" Atticus teases

"I freaking hate you." You reply

"Coming to Paradise from her small religious home of Songnam the changeling knew little of the big city but her hopes for reaching the big time brought the young changeling girl to join a traveling dance group where her comedic skills and quick wit brought her quicker fame, but what captivated people was her even larger heart. despite being a relentless flirt and tease no one could ever stay mad at her. She brought smiles and laughs everywhere she went regardless of her previous disposition there. this kindness was so profound in fact that all who interacted with her had to be careful not to fall under her charms lest be driven to be one of her many admirers, but there is more to the small Changeling. She is feisty and a passionately hard worker who hones her skills and her beliefs on every test she receives and usually passes with flying colors, but why does she do this? What is Dahyun's true motivation? Dahyun's motivations are simple. she wishes to leave the world better than she left it, and do her family and her community proud in her adorable and sometimes clumsy way." You say. Dahyun smiles before clapping. Everyone besides Dahyun, Jeewon, Timothy, Seulgi, and Atticus Looks at you a bit confused. You shrug and hand your notes to Dahyun who says to you "Thank you. I love it." you smile mission accomplished. She stands up courageously and says

"The Hero of Sunrise, The King of Beasts, The Sword of Ruin, the Shield of Restoration, The master of Arms, The Gentle Fist, The War God's Instrument, and The Wiziend One are all titles garnered by The warrior Known as Montu. (You blink thrice at her name, but you smile regardless) Forced into the fight at an early age against all kinds of monsters and Mayhem. Montu grew up quickly adapting and finding his style along the way, but he never lost that spark of wonder that drove him to be larger than life. However in those soft eyes and that Joyous personality hides a sadness and a darkness that desires the destruction of all around him who would disturb his "Endless party".He fights, loves, laughs, and Lives for thrills, but is kind and considerate. He surrounds himself with joy and life. He desires the people around him to feel loved and valued, but beware because he will face any odds and destroy any obstacle to win. Proof of this is when he killed 1,000 men in a battle to secure his home from an invading force. He is a man of Duality. A man of Great Honor and equally Great Ruthlessness. He is confusing but what I can say about him is that he is a Legend in the making that lives up to all of his titles." Dahyun says then you assume she repeats the same thing in Korean. Everyone looks at you surprised to hear Dahyun's backstory for you. You thought you were going to be a normal pit fighter but her words inspired you to be more, but that's just who Dahyun was anyway. you got up and hugged her there were woos and hollers but you didn't care you just carried out the hug and smiled at Dahyun before saying thank you to her. The smile you garnered was the softest yet brightest one yet. You sat down as an energetic Nayeon and Charlie got up

Atticus translated the much less intensive Backstories for you, "Nayeon was a farm girl who rose to prominence performing with Sana and Dahyun, Chrom (Charlie) was a Privateer of the Paradisan Crown. Seulgi was a sorcerous whose power awoke after Her parents informed her of an arranged marriage. So on an Impulse, she and her Tutor Irene left the Kingdom of Paradise and worked adventurer jobs to bide their time. The arranged marriage in question was a Plasmid prince named (Timothy) Thordak who was more interested in Courting the powerful Goliath Herd leader named Handong. Handong was currently visiting Paradise to negotiate Peace talks between her nomadic herd and the crown, but also to meet her Friend The Harekin Warlock Sana, who worked with Dahyun and Nayeon. Her pact with The Powerful Archefey led to several chaotic encounters including A wizard student Named Alan (Alan) who was currently working a magic shop with an Orc Artificer named Demyx (David), and a Twin soul Echo Knight and Captain of the Kingdom Guard named Kaido (Kento)." all that was left was Atticus and Jeewon's backstory.

Jeewon stood up nervously and began her account of Achilles’s (Atticus) backstory it wasn't in English but you were able to manage a few pieces like exiled child warrior, on the run, and very powerful. after that Atticus did Jeewon’s and you kinda spaced out as your brain just couldn't take any more information. After that, Alan stood up and said “Now for the test of strength.” we followed him to the garage where several weight stations were set up.

“The rules are simple we are maxing out on lifts today.” Atticus translated for you. You nod but when Alan turns to you and Atticus he says in clear English

“Not you two. You two will “spot” us. You're both set at 18.” Atticus and you looked at each other sad but understanding why. So over the next hour Atticus and you worked to help the others with their test of strength. No surprise that the top ones were Nayeon and Handong for the girls and Kaido and Chrom for the guys. The next test was one you could participate in and was led by Dahyun. it was the test of Wisdom. The test was simple we have a product we know is less than Ideal on release but need to sell it to gain the capital to sell more how do we sell more products? Most of the responses you heard were good. some on the more shady side but still good nonetheless, but a lot of them failed in a very simple manner from your perspective. None of them mentioned lowering the price. So when it was your turn you gave that as your major first answer and then was honest about everything after that, which led to silence in the group until Dahyun wheezed and said, "FINALLY someone said lowering the price." you blinked three times before Dahyun smiles at you and says "Good answer." you nod confused but accepted the compliment.

The rest of the tests follow this structure and you place well in most so when you get your Ability score distribution you are pleasantly surprised to have all positive scores, but as you looked over everyone else also had higher scores so you don't get too stressed about it. after finishing up basic character design and the like All that's left is to start the game.

session 0

You woke up to another day in Paradise. It was a cool Spring morning which led you to eat on the patio of the inn you were staying in. You ordered a simple breakfast that consisted of egg, pork, spinach, tomatoes, rice, and a couple of pastries you didn't recognize. While you are a very tall and very attractive Goliath woman approached you.

“Hey you are Montu right?” she asks you nod hesitantly until you recognize her

“You Handong you won the tournament yesterday. Congratulations hope the 2,500 gold and magic great sword are to your liking,” you reply. Handing smirks and nods.

“I am surprised that you only wanted third.”

“Well, I have been looking for a bag of holding, and getting third fighting random people seemed like a reasonable way to do so,” you answer. Handing laughs

“You are silly well see you around,” she says. You nod and tell her

“We are all silly in this crazy world, and I wish you well as you navigate it.” Handong chuckled as she walked away from you. After breakfast, you go to the celebration event in the palace where you meet the Queen, King, and Princess of Paradise along with other visiting leaders. You relax at the party by finding a high and dry area (you despise alcohol and its many debilitating effects) while on a balcony one of the performers approaches you. A changeling with jet-black hair and two short blue horns growing from her forehead approaches you timidly.

"Well hello there." you greet the timid changeling without turning around.

the changeling approaches next to you and says, "You are missing quite the party down there."

You shrug and reply, "Well I prefer my celebratory engagements more intimate, and with less show."

the changeling smiles at you and says, "I know a spot that might fit your tastes?"

You turn to the changeling and say, "Oh really tell me more."

The changeling grabs you and states "It's better if I show you.", As the changeling drags you, you ask her name she says "Dahyun," and you smile as you follow her out of the palace where the celebration is occurring.

With that, she whisks you away from the garish and loud party to the base of the hill that borders the capital city's edge. It's a quaint town that is quiet and peaceful. You turn to the changeling and say, "This is more my type of engagement." The changeling smiles as the two of you venture deeper. you find a small tavern where the two of you get Lunch and journey to a book shop where the two of you spend hours reading a book that piques your mutual interest. The changeling loves it when you read to her and nestles in your lap as you read off to her tales of Heroism and Champions of long ago. She falls asleep but is stirred when you begin to stroke her hair.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked groggy as she woke up.

"I didn't wish to wake you sleeping beauty," you say to the changeling whose face blushes a deep azure shade. she smiles at you and your heart begins to race.

"There is one more place I want to show you." you nod and follow her out of the bookshop, but not before purchasing the one you read to her. you store it in your bag of deep pockets and follow her to the cresting hill line where you see the entrance to an inn that houses both Hot Springs and Saunas. Dahyun Checks the two of you in for the night. You get to your room but before you can unwind Dahyun says, "Come on let's try out the couple's springs." You follow her lead into the hot springs and follow her to the dual-gender springs. As she strips before you, you marvel at her shapely ass and dazzling ravenous figure. Dahyun notices and begins to make a show of it. teasing you more and more hoping to get you to make a move, but you remain disciplined, well parts of you do, as you follow her lead she sees your raging erection and smirks at you while licking her lips. eventually, the two of you manage to get to the springs and share another Chaste moment. you sit at the edge and Dahyun nestles in close to your body. As she shuffles to get comfortable you make space for her. when the two of you intertwine in peace Dahyun uncoils herself and you feel all of her tension release.

"This is nice," she says as the two of you watch the sunset from the springs which leads into the night's fireworks show. you nod at peace and are comfortable with her. She kisses your cheek and then turns your face to hers. her breath is soft and heavy. her eyes stare deep into yours. her brown pools stir your manhood to attention once more. she lifts herself to straddle you. you continue to stare at her unable to speak,

"Are you sure?" you ask bashful.

"Why so shy?" Dahyun asks voice hungry with desire but also affection drawing a light groan out of you as your cock grows harder.

"I just never have done this before," you say.

Dahyun smiles and replies, "Let me be your guide." she slides down and takes you inside of her. you moan as the feeling overwhelms you. A moan escapes your lips which eggs Dahyun on. "Let it all out Darling." She says as your hips buck into her. she yelps and moans in response. She moves your hands so one is on her tits and the other massages her ass, but all you can feel is the tightness of her womanhood as she takes more of you in. As she does she draws more of you out.

You stare into her eyes and say “Are you like this to all the champions?”

Dahyun smirks, “no just the reserved ones. The others are usually either not loud enough or too loud for my tastes.” she teases as she grinds on your crotch. You moan again as she gives you the first orgasm of the night. You look up and see stars as you cum in her Dahyun smiles at you. When you finally come down she grins madly at you and says “We’re not done.” and just like that gone is the reserved martial artist. In his place the frenzied and skilled wandering warrior scoops Dahyun. She yelps in joyous surprise as the two of you barely make it to get clothed and back to your room before you're all over each other. The tenderness and shyness of earlier are gone now both Dahyun and Montu are exploring each other’s bodies with earned confidence. In between fights of dominance in the form of fevered kisses Dahyun nibbles on your sensitive ear lobe. You counter by tracing circles around her right nipple. Dayun moans before she climaxes but it doesn't calm either of you down. It only adds more to the wild hunger you have for each other. Which leads to you bending the flexible changeling over and smacking her ass as you ram your cock into her pussy

“Oh gods yes. She screams as you pound into her from behind. You marvel at her fantastic ass as it jiggles as you pound her relentlessly from behind. Your cock is suffocating in her warm and dripping snatch. It's like the rougher you go the wetter and tighter she gets. It makes you grow harder inside as both of you use each other for more pleasure. However, this tempo can't last forever and the both of you cum together.

The both of you can't stop however as Dahyun pushes you into the bed and begins riding you ragged. Her small but perky breasts bounce hypnotically. You reach out and trace circles around her right nipple. This sends her into further ecstasy. It causes her to get tighter and wetter around you. Dahyun her head back and moans vocalizing the pleasure without words. While riding she rings another fervent orgasm out of you while giving herself another. The two of you now finally fall to the bed exhausted. Dahyun spoons you as the both of you drift off to sleep. Your dreams are full of her as hers are full of you.

You wake up to Dahyun facing you. Your body jolts and her eyes flutter open and she smiles brightly at you. She caresses your face. “I know you plan to leave again but can I ask you to stay Darling?” she asks. You nod as she wraps her left leg around and pulls you closer causing your rod to rub against her folds forcing a jolt out of both of you but before anything else can progress Dahyun's bag begins vibrating you point this out to her which makes her sigh as she pulls out a blood red scroll. You notice her face grow pale (well paler her skin was already porcelain adjacent). She unfurled it, read it, and looked up to you with a face of need.

“Darling I know it's a lot to ask, but…” Dahyun began sensing her anxiety you made your move.

Before she could finish you reply, “It's done.”

Dahyun nodded worried and the two of you got cleaned and then got dressed before heading into town. You look back through the pamphlet given to you and notice the couple's hot springs clearly say that the waters have an intense aphrodisiac effect which makes a lot of the haze of last night make more sense. Upon arriving in town you are devastated to see massive burns across the city, but these were not fire burns but electrical ones. You notice Dahyun's shift in affectation and bring her in closer. “No Dragon who rampages will prosper,” you say to alleviate her worries. This works to some degree as some of the color returns to her face. You follow her to the palace where ten vaguely familiar faces (plus the Queen and King) reside.

Nayeon… you think approaches the two of you, “Where were you ?” she says frantically

Dahyun points to you and explains how she was with you at the Kimura hot springs. The rest of the group sizes you up as they vaguely recognize you. You nod curtly and politely.

Handong steps up and says, “So how are we talking this Dragon down?”

Surprise happy New Year/Christmas gift to my readers Enjoy.

#kpop fanfic #male reader #dnd smut #dnd fanfiction #twice fanfic #twice smut #dahyun #dahyun smut

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kissitbttr · 5 months

Note

hello! i read you miss having asks and i don't know if you maybe miss having some requests (in case you aren't taking any you can ignore this and i hope you'll have a good day <3)

but what about some domestic Miguel and spending your first Christmas together? just imagine sitting on the couch in front of the TV, with a blanket covering both of you, watching some way too romantic soap opera, while drinking some hot chocolate and just enjoy the moment <3

(i know this is so early and we are still in November, but I swear, I can already feel the nostalgic feeling of Christmas </3)

xmas with miggy? say no more baby!!

it is absolutely one of your favorite holiday, ever. the music, the decorations, the presents for your loved ones, the cooking and baking. everything about christmas just screams fairytale,

miguel has never been the one who’s fond of this specific holiday, or any holiday for that matter. he would drown himself in work to avoid any invitations from friends. sad but anything to get away from interacting with strangers.

now ever since you stepped into his life, he can’t help but see how this year’s christmas would be different. having you with him to celebrate together just changes his perspectives. now he has someone to hold and love, this christmas would bring joy into his life.

you and him had been pretty busy with the decorations and stuff. buying a Christmas tree, getting pretty ornaments, looking for presents etc.

“need a hand, baby?” miguel steps into the kitchen, seeing you take out fresh cookies from the oven. you look so… comfy. dressed in his old t-shirt with your hair tied up in a bun—his clothing is basically a dress so there’s no need to be putting on some pants other than underwear—

you nod, looking up at him before setting the cookies on the counter. “can you put those hot chocolates on the table, my love?” you ask with a smile,

his heart soars at the nickname before grabbing the two cups of hot cocoa with tiny pink marshmallows in them. “you pick or i pick the movie?”

you’re quick to raise your hand in a child-like manner, causing him to laugh. “me, duh!” you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing. “we’re tuning in The Mafia Dolls and La Reina Del Sur”

miguel groans at the choice, shaking his head as he put the tray down on the table before grabbing a blanket. “you just want to watch Kate Del Castillo because you have a crush on her” he points out,

shrugging you showcase an expression of no shame. “she’s hot. you know i would leave your ass for her”

miguel jaw drops open, hand over his heart as he watches you stifle a giggle. “i’ve had enough time dealing with men trying to hit on you on a daily basis and now i have to compete with Kate Del Castillo too?!”

“her and Eva Mendes” you nod, arms crossed, smiling to yourself as he rolls his eyes before throwing you a playful glare and sit on the couch. “you’re going to pay for that comment”

you give him a cheeky smile. grabbing two cookies as you stride towards him, his large arm coming to wrap itself around your waist. he gently pulls you down on the couch, letting your head rest against his chest as you feed him a cookie.

“mhmm” he hums in approval. “new recipe?”

“yeah. you like? grandma sent the recipe to me. said that i have to treat my man something nice every once in a while” you giggle to yourself as he put his arm behind you. his lips plants a kiss on top of your head.

“tell her i said thank you” he mumbles as he turns on the tv. “i like this you know?”

a hum rumbles from you as you lay your back comfortably against him, taking another bite of the cookie. “what is?”

then he smiles, eyes landing on you. his fingers move to stroke your soft hair gently, catching that sweet scent of your strawberry mint shampoo that he finds obsessed over.

miguel can’t exactly remember when he had something like this. probably in his childhood? not quite sure. even if it was true, he doubts that it’s actually memorable. he remembers there were a lot of screaming match and broken plates though. maybe that’s why he avoids christmas like a plague. it was never magical.

but you… oh god, you.

you changed it for the better. the decorating christmas tree, wrapping up presents for each other, counting fails at an attempt to create gingerbread house, cooking up delicious traditional food instead of unseasoned dish that he sees people are making. and it might not be a big christmas party like in movies or how his co-workers do it, but that’s okay really. that’s just how he prefers it.

you, him and christmas.

“being with you” he responds, not minding the chatters coming from the tv. “estoy agradecido por ti, princesa”

“so, so grateful” he mumbles, pressing another quick kiss on your temple.

his words cause your gaze to soften. you slowly turn your head to look up to him from the tv, who’s eyes glued into the screen. your heart warms at the sight of miguel being comfortable with you, a small smile attached to his face.

leaning forward, you give him a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. he sighs out of contentment at the gesture, hand around your waist tighten.

“i’m grateful for you too.”

aaa this feels like it’s rushed but i hope u like it anon! I’m sorry it took too long:(

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara fluff

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wol-fica · 8 months

Text

-ℙ𝕦𝕝𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕤-

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

——————————

pairings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - sweet moment with your favorite girl

warnings - none

an - missed writing for my Rechazame series, so i wanted to bring back our ever favorite personal assistant R

——————————

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face to shield your eyes from the bright sun.

It was an early morning, birds chirping and dogs barking as the world began to wake up. Thankfully it was Saturday, which meant you didn’t have work and could sleep in as long as you want.

You rolled onto your side, blinding reaching around in front of you to find the warmth of your girlfriend, only to be met with the dip of a mattress and cold sheets.

You peeled your eyes open, squinting to see around the sun-filled room. Everything looked normal, bookshelf filled with a multitude of literature, closet open and presenting the pale arrangement of clothes you and your girlfriend owned, and the bathroom door wide open, the sound of someone humming a small tune sneaking out.

Your body moved, arms pushing you up and out of bed. Once your feet hit the floor, you closed your eyes and took a big stretch, sighing when your back popped pleasently. After you cracked your neck, you moved towards the bathroom in just your boxers and a sports bra, and you were greeted with the smell of vanilla and coconut bodywash wafting through the open door.

On the edge of the bathtub your girlfriend sat, facing away from you as she shaved her legs. The room was warm and a tad bit humid, clear signs of Jenna taking her routine shower that she does almost every morning. The light from the sun was creating a golden hue on her skin, her features seeming to glow from your perspective.

She wore a white t-shirt, black shorts, and her signature black headphones, nodding her head along to whatever song that was playing in her ears. You stood for a moment, taking in the fact that you could admire here without her knowing.

After a few more seconds of silent ogling, you moved towards the sink, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste to start your day. You scrubbed away the grime and bad breath, rinsing your mouth with a cup of sink water before gurgling it and spitting it out into the basin.

You glanced towards Jenna, noticing that she still hasn’t turned around or noticed you yet, so with a small smirk of deviancy on your face, you reached and took her jaw in your fingers. She jumped at your touch, brown eyes looking up just in time to catch you leaning in to press your lips to her cheek.

You kissed her warm skin, inhaling her bodywash with a pleasant sigh. She smelled sweet, and just like how she always smells like. A small giggle escapes her mouth at the feeling of your breath on her skin, causing you to smile. You pulled away, gently caressing her shoulder with your hand as a silent ‘hello’ before you left the bathroom and headed for your closet.

Not sure of what to wear, you decided on some grey sweats and a plain white tank top. You easily threw each garment on, and was now reaching up to grab some slippers from the top shelf. Unnoticed by you, Jenna walked in and slid under your outstretched arms, wrapping her arms around your waist to gain your attention.

You looked down, catching her looking at you fondly before she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to yours. You responded immediately, hands dropping down to cup her face. Your thumbs rubbed on her soft skin, pulling her closer and letting yourself melt into her hold. She tasted delicious, her cherry chapstick soothing your own dry lips from just waking up.

“G’mornin’.” You mumbled, giving her lips and forehead a peck before reaching up for the slippers, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm, I did.” She replied, letting go of your waist so she could take her slippers from you, “Did you?”

“Yeah, I think I fell asleep on top of you.” You said, sliding the comfy shoes on your feet.

“You did, we never finished that movie because of it.” Jenna giggled, sliding to stand in between your open knees, “It’s fine though, I got to cuddle you.”

You snorted, leaning back up to meet her eyes. She was already staring at you, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks. You leaned into her palm with a sigh, letting your eyes close at the feeling of her soft touch. She cooed at you, choosing to thread her fingers into your hair to detangle its morning mess.

Her nails scratched at your scalp, massaging and relaxing you quite quickly. She expertly removed all the knots from your hair, knowing the tricks on detangling your fluffy locks. Once she finished, you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her in to you.

Your face buried in her stomach, practically purring at the warmth she provided. She cradled your head, leaning down to kiss your ruffled hair. You sighed in contentment, happy that she was here and holding you.

“Do you want breakfast?” You asked, leaning your head back to look at her, “I can make you something.”

She mumbled a ‘yes please’ but didn’t let go of you, instead pulling herself into your lap so she could rest her head on your shoulder.

“Baby, you gotta let me go so I can go cook.” You chuckled, holding her thighs.

“No.” She said, burrowing herself further into your shirt.

You smiled, patting her butt lightly before standing up with her in your arms. She wrapped her legs around your waist, tightening her hold on your neck before you took a step. Your hands slid under her thighs, giving her some extra support to hang onto you while you walked to the kitchen.

“Okay beautiful.” You said, setting her down on the counter, “What do you want to eat?”

“Pancakes.” Jenna stated, swinging her feet while she stared at you lovingly.

“Pancakes.” You repeated, leaning in to give her a quick kiss before getting to work on making the requested dish.

You moved swiftly, pulling all the ingredients together and creating the batter in less than ten minutes. Soon, the pancakes were cooked and crisped to perfection, looking quite fluffy on the plate when you handed to Jenna.

“For the girl that looks so gorgeous on this fine evening.” You said cheekily, sliding the plate towards her and leaning in to nuzzle her cheek with your nose.

She laughed, taking the plate whilst blushing heavily. Carefully, she stabbed it with her fork and ate a piece, sighing in satisfaction at the sweet taste on her tongue.

“It’s delicious baby.” She praised, taking another bite, “So yummy.”

You internally high-fived yourself for being such a damn good cook for your girlfriend. She always loved what you created in the kitchen, and you loved having the label of the masc bisexual housewife; it just felt right to you.

“Here, eat.” Jenna said, holding up her fork to you.

You complied, opening your mouth so she could feed you. The pancake was perfect, fluffy and sweet with just the right amount of chocolate chips.

You really outdid yourself.

“Mmmm.” You nodded, happy with the salivating taste, “That’s good.”

“It’s cause my beautiful girl made it.” Jenna cooed, reaching out to pinch your cheeks.

You flushed red, shaking your head at her comment. She just laughed at you, hiding her smile with her hand while she did. You grinned, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaving little pecks all over her face. It felt perfect, just you and her giggling as the sun rose on your love.

Just how Jenna wanted it to be.

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sunshinesteviee · 1 year

Text

and they were roommates - s.h.

summary: from the prompt "we hosted a party for our friends last night and somehow we ended up making out and now it’s the next morning and we’re cleaning the apartment together and I can’t stop thinking about it" wc: 1.5k warnings: lots of overthinking and a flustered steve, but that's about it lol a/n: originally requested as a blurb that i got carried away with; i hope you like it!! sorry for the stupid title LOL

my masterlist

It’s unusually quiet in your apartment for a weekend morning where both you and Steve are home. The radio is on, playing the current pop hits, but it’s not enough to distract you from the distinct lack of conversation. If you wanted, you could probably chalk it up to the headache you were experiencing from your drinking last night, and assume Steve was feeling the same. And you tried, you really did. But you knew that wasn’t the cause of the silence filling your apartment.

Last night, you and Steve had had all of your friends over to unwind and hang out. There’d been lots of alcohol, and you’d ended up drinking way more than you’d planned to. Your drunk decisions were never your best ones, but you’d really outdone yourself last night. The stupid decision had almost been forgotten until you rolled over in bed to find Steve next to you, his perfect lips parted as he slept soundly. It wasn’t exactly abnormal to wake up next to him, especially after a night of drinking, but nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Until last night.

You hadn’t done anything more than kiss — albeit quite… passionately — but Steve's one of your best friends, as well as your roommate, and a drunken kiss had the potential to ruin everything. Especially since there’d always been an unspoken tension between you, at least from your perspective, but you’d resolved to ignore it in hopes of it disappearing. Clearly, it hadn’t quite worked.

After silently panicking, you’d scrambled out of bed and escaped to the kitchen, busying yourself with making breakfast. Steve had stumbled out of your room into the kitchen not long later, but was still half asleep as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, slumped over the counter as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. Maybe he didn’t remember.

At the time, you’d told yourself it was probably good if he didn’t remember. But now, as you silently clean the apartment together, you’re not so sure. Would it hurt more if he really didn’t remember the kiss, or if he was just pretending he didn’t? Sure, you’d both been drunk, but it would be a lie to say you’d never considered the possibility, so the thought of it meaning nothing to Steve nearly eats you alive.

Empty beer bottles and cans clink loudly as you toss them into the garbage bag you’re holding. It’s louder than it needs to be, but you’re trying to focus on cleaning, on the noise; anything to keep your mind from wandering back to Steve and the kiss you’d shared. Because the images of your kiss flash in your mind, of Steve’s hands on your waist, soft lips pressing to yours, do nothing to stop your racing heart.

You can’t believe he hasn’t said anything, but then again, neither have you. Just the thought of mentioning it makes you flustered, and you’re not sure you can face him without feeling like you’re going to burst into flames, but you have to go back into the kitchen where Steve is washing the dishes that had been left out overnight.

Steve is humming along to the song playing over the radio when you walk into the kitchen, and only glances up from the dishes for a moment to flash you his perfect smile when the sound of the bag of garbage you’re carrying betrays you. You manage to return the smile — though you’re sure it’s awkward and unconvincing — as you make your way across the kitchen to dump the bag into the bin. He’s still not saying anything, and you’re still not sure how to feel about all of it. Realistically, you know you should really talk about everything that had happened, even if it was just a one-time, drunken make out. You just can’t quite get yourself to do it, though, and chicken out of saying anything as you dart out of the kitchen and up to your room.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you grab your phone and dial a number you know by heart. Robin knows both you and Steve better than anyone else; surely she’ll know what you should do. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and finally she picks up with a grumbled, “Hello?”

“Hey, Robs. Did I wake you?” It’s nearly noon, but Robin’s night had been similar to yours — without all of the kissing, of course.

She huffs, and you can hear rustling from the other side of the phone as she shifts in bed, “Yeah, but it’s fine; need to get up anyway before my mom starts telling me about the dangers of drinking again. Like I drink all the time or something. Anyway, what’s up?”

Suddenly the butterflies are back, fluttering in your chest, as you rub your free hand over your face, “Do you, uh… Do you remember anything that happened last night? I dunno how drunk you were but—“

Robin is quick to cut you off, “If you’re talking about you and Steve sucking face, yeah I remember that.”

You groan in embarrassment, face and chest filling with heat as you whine into the phone, “Jesus, Robin. Do you have to say it like that?”

“Well! That’s what it was! What would you call it?”

“I dunno, anything but that! But that’s not— I called ‘cause… We haven’t talked about it. I don’t know if he even remembers or—“

A scoff cuts you off again and you can practically hear Robin’s eye roll, “Holy shit, can you just talk to each other please? I’m too hungover for this and Steve’s already called me about it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, at like four in the morning. It was freaking ridiculous. He said he’d talk to you. I think. I don’t really know, I was half asleep.”

Something like hope stirs in you as you thank Robin and apologize again for waking her up before you hang up. A call in the middle of the night could be good or bad, but Robin hadn’t made it sound like it was anything bad. She’s known about your crush on Steve, going so far as to insist that the feeling is almost definitely mutual, but you’ve never had the courage to make a move. You know it’s now or never.

Opening your door, you run straight into Steve’s chest with a muffled ‘oof!’ His hand is raised, as if he had just been about to knock, but his arm quickly curls around your shoulders to steady you, “Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Your own apologies spill out at the same time, “Shit, sorry! I didn’t know you—“

Nervous laughter erupts from both of you, easing some of the awkward silence as Steve takes a step back. He looks a little nervous, with pink cheeks and wide eyes, which is strange for Steve. Lifting a hand, he scratches the nape of his neck for a moment and then murmurs, “I was just— thought we should talk and…” He trails off, eyes darting to the floor and back up to you before he blurts out, “I remember.”

“You do?” is all you can think to ask, sounding much more eager than you want to.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, a ragged sound as your breath catches in your throat. “Is that… is that a good thing?”

Steve laughs, a sound of adoration, as his cheeks flush again, a dark pink underneath his pretty freckles and moles. He lifts a hand, fingers tugging at his messy hair, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “Um. I mean, I think so. If you also think it’s good. Unless you regret it, and in that case, we can totally forget it happened and—“

“Steve,” you say his name quickly to cut him off, the corners of your lips pulling up slightly as he stops mid-sentence.

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath, and then just go for it, “I don’t regret it at all. I really… I really like you, Steve.”

“Oh. That’s— yeah, that’s good. Can I kiss you again? Since we’re, ya know, less drunk.”

When you nod, a little dumbstruck, Steve wastes no time in cradling your face in his hands as he steps in closer to you. His hands are warm against your skin, thumbs brushing out over your cheekbones as he gently tilts your face up towards his. His eyes flick to yours for a second, and then he’s kissing you.

This kiss is more delicate than the one you’d shared last night, though his lips are just as soft as you remember. He tastes less like alcohol this time, thankfully, and more like the fruity pebbles he’d eaten for breakfast, and maybe a hint of his minty toothpaste. You can’t help but melt into him, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close.

You accidentally let out a small noise of disappointment when Steve finally pulls back that makes him laugh, the tip of his nose nudging into the softness of your cheek. His lips brush over the corner of yours once more as he murmurs, “Thank god you let me kiss you again. I’d never have survived off of what I remember from last night.”

“You can kiss me any time you want, Steve.”

thanks for reading ilysm <3333

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #roommate!steve #roommate!steve harrington #robin buckley #best friend!steve #best friend!steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #sunshinesteviee writing #sunshinesteviee

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1d1195 · 10 months

Text

Traditional X

You can read the rest of Traditional here.

We are getting to the end of what I believe is the main storyline here. Maybe one or two more parts but I already have at least three little extras lined up in my head too.

Additionally, I added in the days because it was kind of getting all over the place and I wanted to make sure the timeline wasn't too confusing--especially since we're winding down on days until the internship is over. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Also, another reminder I don't know anything about running a business.

This part has some minor character death/trauma mentioned, sensitive topics, grief, angst, and I may or may not have cried a bit while writing, so that should put it in perspective I think. Try not to hate me at the end I don't think you're going to like it. Thank you, thank you, thank you for continuing to read.

Just wanted to hear your voice, kitten. Didn’t get to see you much today other than tea. Get some sleep, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, love.

So now she texted him: I’m awake now if you want to hear my voice.

The phone rang almost instantly. “Hi,” she whispered.

“S’like music,” he said sleepily. She giggled. “That’s a symphony,” he murmured.

Friday

Louis and Eleanor were lying on her couch (and one another) while she lay on the rug in front of the coffee table, facing the TV. Her phone vibrated with a message from Harry.

Can we chat sometime today?

That sounds like a terrible way to break up with me. Don’t tell your other girls that.

Don’t be ridiculous, kitten. All of it.

I’ll call you when Louis and El leave.

I’ll be waiting impatiently.

“Must be Harry. She definitely doesn’t smile at Niall’s messages like that,” Louis chuckled.

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head back to her friends. They were watching a movie trying to decide where to eat or if they should order in. It was a regular, run of the mill day. They worked their Friday shifts and now they were lying about her pretty apartment that she hardly felt she’d been spending any time in. Mondays of course were still dinner out with Harry, Thursdays were movie nights at his place (and with any luck something a bit cheekier, now), and she spent many Saturday nights at his place sleeping beside him until one in the morning where they spoke quietly, candidly about anything. In the morning, she woke up to a rotation of pancakes, waffles, or French toast.

And kisses.

She woke up to a ton of kisses.

So, this Friday evening, she spent with Louis and Eleanor watching a movie that was so trashy it was wonderful. “How’s the job search?” Louis asked.

She frowned. The one sore spot that seemed to get sorer each passing day. “I really thought interning at Styles Incorporated was going to give me a leg up,” she sighed. “I don’t know... I’ve applied to some top places and they’ve either passed or ghosted me. Maybe I need to lower my standards.”

“Absolutely not,” Eleanor said immediately. “You deserve the top. You deserve it all,” she said.

Smiling, she looked at Eleanor, snuggled under Louis who was draped across her lap, and he winked at her. “You deserve the very best, babe,” he told her.

She shrugged and let out a sad sigh. “I don’t think these places think I do though,” she mumbled. “But it’s fine...I... I don’t know... I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to let it stop me now. Another month and I’ll be done.”

There was a pause. “Speaking of,” Louis began. “I’m told your program does in fact, have a graduation ceremony.”

She blinked surprised by the idea as if she didn’t already know. “What?”

“Harry told me that of course your college has one and you—”

She only vaguely heard the end of Louis’ sentence. She was feeling...anger? Anger at Harry? It didn’t seem like that was a reasonable conclusion. She had never been mad at him in the eight months she had known him. But her chest started to ache, and her blood felt hot, and she didn’t want to be mad at Harry, but she was sad he betrayed her trust in what she told him at one in the morning. Even if it was a silly little thing like making sure she had people at her graduation ceremony. She shook her head. “I’m not walking,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to.”

“Love, you worked so hard!” Eleanor gasped. “Please! It would mean so much to us to see you do it. We want you to have that.”

While the kindness and the meaningfulness of their words was not lost on her, she was serious in what she told Harry. But maybe she left out the part that she didn’t want to walk across the stage because it would remind her of the last graduation ceremony she attended. The last time she remembered a big happy family memory. “When did Harry tell you?” She asked quietly.

“He didn’t know for sure when it was...He was probing around, I think, because he might be trying to get you something,” Eleanor said so excitedly she was practically clapping. “Oh, I bet it’s going to be amazing whatever he gets you.”

“We weren’t that surprised, but we told him that you weren’t walking because there wasn’t a ceremony...and he told us there most assuredly was—which did surprise us. Most interns went in the past, so what’s the scoop on that, love?” Louis smirked, throwing a piece of popcorn at her. It caught in her hair. “Lying to your best friends?”

She didn’t feel like rehashing all the sad details and explaining why she didn’t want to go. “I just didn’t want it to be a big deal,” she shrugged as casually as she possibly could. She should have just told them, but she didn’t want it to be a thing.

However, Louis sensed there was more to her hiding it, immediately. It was why he was her best friend. But he didn’t press. Maybe he would later when he could get her alone. Every once in a while, he managed to pick up on something in her voice that said something of her past was coming through. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Well, that’s fine. We’d still like to go. A couple pictures and that’s it. Then dinner. Nothing else. I won’t even get you a card to commemorate the day.”

“Oh, I’m getting you a card,” Eleanor nodded fiercely. “Gonna write you the mushiest proud letter there is to write,” she smiled wrinkling her nose at her.

So, how could she say no to them? They loved her so wholly it really was unfair to exclude them after their endless support. Sighing, she shook her head. “It’s Saturday, the 14th,” she rolled her eyes. Both pulled out their phones and tapped rapidly putting it in their calendars.

“Good,” Louis smiled. “Now let’s go get dinner,” he said kissing Eleanor on his way off her lap and helping her up as he nearly ran for the door all in one movement. Eleanor rolled his eyes.

“You picked him,” she reminded El. “In high school too,” she shook her head and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I know, aren’t I lucky?” El said with a mocking dreamy tone in her voice but she meant it. It was obvious on her face, and she loved that about Eleanor most of all. Letting Louis be himself, unapologetically. Louis was the very best and she was glad someone else saw it too. Eleanor squeezed her arm and followed him. She took a second to take in the moment. She couldn’t help but smile so completely happy with her life for the first time in a very long while.

She woke up at some point in the night by herself on the comfiest mattress she ever owned all thanks to Harry. She peered through two of the slats on the blinds of her window to get a better estimate of the time without having to look at her phone in hopes of falling back asleep in a few moments. It was still pitch-black out, save for the moon illuminating the sky.

After tossing and turning for nearly five minutes without drifting off quickly, she decided she may as well make good use of her time. She grabbed for her phone. As expected, the clock told her that if they were sharing a bed, it was time to have her nightly chat with Harry.

When she came back from dinner and before she fell asleep this evening, she told Harry she was a bit tired. She would call, of course. But she might drift off while talking.

Just wanted to hear your voice, kitten. Didn’t get to see you much today other than tea. Get some sleep, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, love.

So now she texted him. I’m awake now if you want to hear my voice.

The phone rang almost instantly. “Hi,” she whispered.

“S’like music,” he said sleepily. She giggled. “That’s a symphony,” he murmured.

Her heart was bursting. “Yeah?”

“M-hmm.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” he said simply. She frowned. But it was like he knew she was frowning, because he continued, putting her mind at ease. “I would probably wake up from a coma t’hear your voice.”

She was so close to saying she loved him out loud. How could she not? But how would she be any different than any intern or companion before her? She was determined to wait until it was over. Until he stopped paying her and then she could at least tell him. So he knew and he could...decide if she was worth it. “Did you have a good day?” She whispered instead.

He yawned and she heard the rustling of his sheets. Sitting up against his fluffy pillows, she assumed. “S’alright,” it sounded as if he were shrugging it off. “I was in a crummy mood all morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she wished she went into his office earlier to see how she could have helped.

“Not something y’could have helped with, beautiful,” he had a smirk in his voice. It left her breathless that he could tell how she was feeling without seeing her. “Before y’worry.”

“Me? Worry?”

He chuckled that beautiful breathy laugh of his. She imagined his dimples, his glittering eyes. “Mmm...”

It was quiet for a moment and since he wanted to hear her talk, she thought she may as well get it out of the way. “So...” she sighed. “Louis and Eleanor found out about my graduation ceremony actually happening somehow...and they’re making me go.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, which told her he already knew that they had found out because of him. “I think y’should go, love.”

“I know. I’m going to.”

He sighed with relief. “That’s good.”

“If...” she swallowed awkwardly hating how she was even asking in the first place. “If you wanted to come...I think I get a ton of tickets...it is a Saturday so you wouldn’t miss wor—”

“Kitten, of course m’going t’be there,” he promised. “I’d sell m’company t’be there for you.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’d sell it t’Niall, maybe. But I’d still sell it.”

She giggled. “Do you think Niall would want to come, too?”

“Yes, absolutely. We wouldn’t miss it.”

She clutched the phone tighter to her ear enjoying the sound of Harry at the other end. The irritation she felt was only a nagging little bite on the inside of her head that she pushed away. Because really, this whole month had to be the most, and totally, happiest she had been in years.

Saturday/Sunday

“I blame myself for my brother’s death,” she said it softly. She didn’t even ask if he was awake. Either she somehow knew, or she wasn’t looking for him to answer. Harry frowned, trailing his fingers up and down her arm. It was a sudden comment, but it was the middle of the night. It was what they did.

“I don’t think that’s possible, kitten.”

“I went to some stupid school party. I didn’t want to get in the car with the person offering a ride home. So, he came to pick me up, no questions asked. Not a care in the world that it was almost two in the morning,” she shrugged against him. “A car hit us,” she said simply. It was silent for a minute. Harry hardly moved. “He must have seen it coming before I did... because he turned...so his side of the car took the brunt of the hit.” He squeezed her. “I tried to pull him out. Begged him to breathe,” she shook her head. “It was awful,” her voice cracked. Harry couldn’t imagine what she had seen. Couldn’t imagine what it took for her to get in the car. No wonder she walked everywhere.

“Y’don’t have t’tell me, love,” he told her, and he meant it. That was plenty. He could fill in the gaps if it meant she didn’t have to relive it again. He was sure she relived it every day.

“It’s why my parents hate me.”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth. “They shouldn’t,” he fully believed that. He may not have judged them for the way they grieved but they lost one child in that accident. It easily could have been two and yet somehow, they chose to lose them both even though she was right there, alive and in need of love more than ever.

Harry wouldn’t say it to her now, but he would think part of his heart would feel like it was missing if she had been lost all those years ago. Whether he knew her or not.

“Sometimes I think they’re right to,” she sniffled. “I’d hate me, too. He was the best,” she whispered shakily.

“Kitten.”

He loved the dark and their little chats every day since they started. Today, he hated it. It was too revealing. This was hurting her. And he hated that most. “I should have died.”

“Thank God, you didn’t.”

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. How many times had she said it to herself, her therapist, to Louis of all people? The only person who consoled her and not her parents...the only person who needed to be consoled as much as her was Louis. As he was breaking down, he was trying to keep her together. It wasn’t fair at all.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “It’s not.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

More silence. “I told you the dark is revealing.”

He smirked sadly. He wished he could tell her something just as revealing. But telling her he loved her so wholly when they weren’t in a relationship, not an actual one, after she was grieving for a moment in time, didn’t seem right. Harry wanted to tell her it was easy. Easy to love her. It was effortless having her in his life. He wanted to reveal something of equal weight. If only so she wouldn’t be sad. “I like getting t’know you,” he said instead.

“Even though I’m the reason someone died?”

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Someone else made a dumb decision, love. Of course, your brother would come t’help you. I’d do the same for Gem,” he promised. “S’in the brother handbook.”

“Louis said the same thing...he has a bunch of younger sisters...and me.”

“Louis would still do it for you, too; I’m sure.” They were silent again. He thought she fell asleep. Sometimes she would do that. So, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind forever. “I don’t want t’pry...What happened with your parents...after that?”

She shook her head. “Maybe another middle of the night talk. Not this one,” she mumbled.

He nodded. “Yeah, of course, love.”

“Thank you for...everything Harry. Really,” she yawned and nuzzled closer to his chest.

“Course, love,” he repeated and let her fall asleep beside him peacefully.

Wednesday

There was yelling from the other side of the door as she knocked, then immediately entered his office with tea. Right as she opened the door, he slammed the phone down to his desk. Then picked it back up and slammed it three more times into the receiver. She blinked and cringed with each hit. He slid a hand over his face and turned to face the window. Part of her thought he didn’t register she was in the room.

“Harry,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “Love, please jus’ leave the tea and go,” he grumbled. “M’gonna snap and I don’t want it t’be at you,” he sounded infuriated. Interns never seemed to work out because of his anger... She knew Niall worked hard to keep her away from Harry’s outbursts. Mostly because Niall knew Harry would never forgive himself if he ever broke her heart or scared her because of his job. But she still knew the stories. The whispers in the breakroom and by the copier about his anger weren’t something she could ignore. Sometimes Harry’s angry tone filled the whole floor. She bit her lip at his warning and nodded silently.

After she set the tea on his desk, she sat on the couch across the room. She sipped at her drink watching him tap on his phone screen searching for something. He turned back around after a moment looking at his computer and then she saw his eyes flicker over to her. “I know I told you t’leave,” his voice was icy. But she saw his gaze soften just a hair.

She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to set him off or make him any angrier than he already was. She was content to sit there...just wanted to wait there in case he needed her because that’s what she did. Even if he was going to pretend that she wasn’t there.

His phone was ringing from the other end while he called someone. “I need the file we looked at this morning...” A pause and she watched him clench his fist and he squeezed his eyes shut angrily. “Well, I don’t have it!” he snapped slamming his fist on the desk. “If I had it, I wouldn’t have called! Can’t you just do what I fucking ask and bring—"

She hurried to his computer after he slammed his fist down. Not caring even a little, when he hardly moved out of her way and continued yelling at the poor person at the other end of the line. The words he snarled into the phone didn’t reach her ears. With three clicks and a few taps it was on his screen. She stepped out of his way and sat back on the couch waiting for the next mini blowup. He put his phone down again as his eyes scanned the screen. He grumbled about something unintelligible under his breath and he tapped on his phone screen again and brought it to his ear for all of five seconds.

“Come here,” he said into his phone.

Within moments, Niall was there. He frowned seeing Harry’s anger but managed a quick wink at the sweet girl sitting quietly on the couch. She sipped her coffee while Niall went behind Harry’s desk. He looked at the screen for a few moments and she saw his face falter a bit; he rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “Well, we knew this was coming.”

Harry turned away and paced to the other end of the room. Hands on the back of his head. Niall scrolled on his screen and sighed. He glanced at her. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the pair of them since Niall stood next to Harry. “C’mere,” he said to her. She hurried back over. He pointed to several itemized lines and murmured a few things that she only had a vague understanding of due to her limited understanding of things that happened here at Styles Incorporated solely because in the grand scheme of things, she hadn’t been there that long, and she was just an intern.

She looked at the numbers, pursed her lips in concentration and did her best to calculate quickly. “Can you shrink this number?” She asked, pointing at the screen.

He glanced at Harry who looked ready to jump out the window. His head pressed to the glass taking deep, angry breaths. “No, darling.”

“How about this one?” She pointed to a different cell. He shook his head again. She looked over at Harry who was clearly distraught. Sighing, she thought for a few quiet breaths and Niall frowned as he scrolled. She thought back to all her classes, every lecture, and every assignment she had ever worked on. Unfortunately, she came to only one conclusion.

“You can have them file for bankruptcy,” she shrugged.

Niall pushed her behind him as soon as the beginning of that b-word left her mouth. Harry hated that word. At the same time, Harry spun rapidly, took three long strides, and menacingly glared through Niall in her direction. “Are you fucking serious?” He hissed but he was staring so angrily at Niall, but the expression was really meant for her. She gulped audibly. This had to have been the nightmarish things that previous interns spoke about. It made her stomach churn and she thought she might throw up. God bless Niall for standing in her way—she knew Harry wouldn’t resort to physical violence. Not even a little. She felt it in her soul. But part of her wondered if it would hurt less than his cutting, angry voice.

No wonder Niall never let her be around Harry when he was mad. This was terrifying.

“Harry—” Niall started.

She blinked in surprise at how angry he got. At her. But he did warn her. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. “I am not having them file,” he growled.

Her face definitely turned red, and she swallowed nervously. “It’s your only option,” she whispered standing her ground anyway. He flung the cordless keyboard across the room. It smashed into the wall and many of the keys fluttered off in a heap against the wall. She flinched at the sound as he paced back to that side of the room.

“Darling, kindly shut it,” Niall whispered over his shoulder.

Harry paced and paced. Niall was still standing in front of her protectively as Harry grumbled to himself trying to make sense of it. “Why?” He practically barked at her. “Why’s it my only option?”

She took a deep breath. “The legal fees would equate to more than the bankruptcy payback.” He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. Niall even turned around and stared at her in surprise. “What?” She felt like this was a worse thing to say than bankruptcy. Niall stepped from in front of her and used the mouse to click through different screens on the computer, it took a moment because he no longer had a keyboard. He glanced at Harry and nodded.

Harry took a deep breath. “Can y’please explain that for me, love?” His voice was still tight with anger but at least he wasn’t barking at her or throwing things.

So, she did her best to explain that she remembered this once case she studied in her quantitative decision-making class. How it was expensive but kept the company afloat to file for a chapter of bankruptcy that allowed them to pay back the debt and keep going on if they could make it a few years. “She’s right...” Niall said clicking on the computer and gesturing to the screen. “Obviously,” he muttered under her breath.

Harry looked at the screen. While they did, she did some calculations on her phone. “So, they keep their assets?” He asked, looking up at her from the screen while Niall searched something on his phone to show Harry.

She nodded. “As long as they make this much,” she said and held her phone up to the two men.

Niall smirked. “I like her,” he said knowingly.

Harry sighed, still embittered. “Can you go buy me a new keyboard, love?” He asked.

Feeling like she had finally made a difference and helped a bit, she grabbed her coffee and nodded. “Sure,” she said softly.

“Don’t spend your own money on it either,” Harry said knowingly without looking up at her. She smirked to herself and left his office before she could say any more wrong things.

Since it was a Wednesday, she hadn’t seen Harry outside the office for two days. After getting the new keyboard and plugging it in, Harry was swamped for the remainder of the day. Lawyers, Niall, and others kept filing in and out of his office. At five in the evening, when most everyone was leaving, they were still coming and going. Niall hadn’t seen her in hours while she sat at her desk sending him files, answering calls, and taking messages. She knocked on the door before entering, carrying five or so pizzas and an assortment of drinks. Niall was the only one who noticed.

He winked at her, mouthed thank you, and watched as she left.

It was another hour before Harry noticed he was eating pizza...with pineapple on the slice. “Who got this?” He muttered.

“That cute intern of Niall’s,” one of the lawyers said.

“That’s your intern Niall? I’d be begging for her to alleviate the stress—”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Niall said calmly. Harry was glad he had a bite of pizza in his mouth and Niall interrupted that sentence before it finished. After the day Harry had he wasn’t sure he had much self-control left to not physically attack someone—especially on behalf of her.

How did he not notice the sweet girl bringing pizza? He was certain even if the room was on fire, he would still take the time to notice her. He frowned. He had no idea she did this.

“I think this is enough for tonight, Mr. Styles,” someone said after hours of being there. Harry hadn’t looked at the time in ages. Since before lunch at least. He was only vaguely aware that it was after one at some point only because she brought his daily tea. He nodded silently, still upset about the day but also that he had no idea the perfect girl was there.

“You screamed at her, y’know,” Niall said condensing the pizza boxes. Placing the empty ones by the trashcan for the maintainers to take care of. After everyone left. Harry was helping clean up as well and packing his things.

Harry tended to get a little fuzzy on his consciousness when he was mad. “I told her to leave.”

“You’re stupid for thinking she would,” he rolled his eyes. “She’s quite brilliant,” Niall said knowingly. “When are you going to offer her a job?”

“It’s complicated,” he remarked. “I think if I create a job for her, people...will get suspicious.”

“Who cares?”

Harry worked extremely hard to get Styles Incorporated where it was so quickly. You didn’t become a thirty under thirty member without working hard. In all that time, Harry made every decision he could to the best of his ability. He always wondered if he made mistakes. He loved this company. It was his pride and joy.

The idea of losing pieces of it broke his heart. Since it happened twice within the last three months, and she managed to save both those pieces from falling to the wayside...

She seemed to know how much he loved his job, his legacy. He didn’t like her idea all that much today, even if it was good or his only option. Even when he yelled at her and snarled like she wasn’t the most special person he knew. She still voiced her opinion, and he knew that had to have been hard for her.

It hurt him to think of failing in even one little branch. But he couldn’t argue with her that it was the best option he had for this moment. “This was a brilliant idea,” one of the lawyers said as they typed furiously on their laptop. It was hours after the lovely girl left the new keyboard on his desk. Harry didn’t respond with anything but one little nod. “We should keep this in mind...would have saved you some money a few years ago,” she remarked with a gentle smile.

Niall saying “who cares” suddenly sparked something in him. Why did he care? She was brilliant. He didn’t have to convince anyone of that. It was obvious when she walked into any room, took a passing glance at whatever document they were discussing, any graph they were looking at and she casually pointed out inconsistencies and almost always managed to save him money.

“Have the other interns been like her?” He asked quietly. He had been so closed off, so worried about the reasons they were truly there... The thought of that horrible woman who made comments to the sweet girl about sleeping with him... Harry would feel terrible if he was so cynical about the entire intern process if a quarter of them were as smart as her.

Niall smiled at his best friend. The relief flooded him before Niall even spoke. “Harry, I don’t think there’s anyone like her.”

The knock on her door surprised her. She thought it might be Louis or Eleanor who couldn’t be bothered to walk the last five blocks back to their place after a late-night dinner. It was nearing ten and she was snuggled up on the couch with her book and music playing on the TV.

Harry was leaning against the opposite wall as she opened the door. “Oh, hi,” she said softly.

Harry stayed where he was, and he smiled at her, tiredly. “You’re so cute,” he mumbled.

She glanced down at her pajamas. A mismatching pair of shorts and a tank top. One sock on because only the left one was cold. Harry looked tired but beautiful as ever. His button-down sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked into his dress pants. The tie he had been wearing all day was gone, the button at his neck undone. His hair looked as if he ran his hand through it a few too many times but his tiredness seemed most evident on his face.

“Come in,” she said opening the door wider. “Do you need something to eat or drink?” She asked.

“No... had the pizza y’got us,” he murmured finding his way to the couch, he folded the corner of the page where she was reading and set the book on the coffee table. He waited for her to sit beside him and once she did, his head was in her lap. “M’sorry I screamed at you. Y’didn’t deserve that.”

“I knew you didn’t mean it,” she threaded her fingers through his hair and lightly rubbed at his scalp. “Is it all taken care of?”

“Thanks t’you,” he mumbled. She smiled softly, grateful she could ease his anger and allow him to sleep. She didn’t say anything for a bit and soon enough he was asleep in her lap. She reached for her book and read for the better part of an hour while he snored gently into her leg.

When an hour had passed, she gently pulled herself out from his head and began undressing him down to his boxers. It took effort but once he was mostly naked, she tugged him off the couch holding him up as much as she could with his tall frame to drop him into her bed. She curled up to him, grateful for the extra night with him. The first one at her place, at that.

The moon was bright even through the closed blinds, making his skin practically glow as she faced his sleeping figure. His arm beneath her pillow outstretched so she fit neatly beneath his chin if she was close enough. Their legs twisted together, his much longer than hers.

She was quiet for a bit, tracing the sparrows tattooed just below his collarbones. “They stopped talking to me,” she whispered. It wasn’t quite the standard middle of the night, but it was pressing on her mind because it was rapidly approaching the seven-year anniversary of that horrible day and it hurt so freshly, so sharply. Like it was only a week ago. She wasn’t sure Harry was even awake, but she said it anyway...maybe it was better he didn’t hear anyway. “Except for when they had too much to drink. Then they just yelled and yelled. At each other, at me...” she swallowed the pain down. “If I didn’t go out, he wouldn’t have gone to get me. We would still be a family...he was their prince,” she explained.

Her fingers drifted over his arm that rested gently with his hand at her hip. She traced the heart tattoo, the rose, and then the anchor at his wrist. “They stopped caring about me, but I couldn’t stop caring about them. I made dinner for them even if they didn’t always eat. If they did, they complained about it. I stopped eating with them. We didn’t watch movies together on Sunday evenings. We didn’t celebrate Christmas. Part of me thinks they only kept me there because they knew deep down, I was still a minor and they had to—I could ruin their lives worse by reporting them...” she bit her lip. “I don’t even think I would do that... At some point... they were the only people that ever took care of me... but then they just stopped and honestly, I don’t blame them.”

Harry didn’t make any note that he could hear but she kept going anyway. “So, I started taking care of everyone I crossed paths with...” she paused for a moment just to see if anything registered on Harry’s mind. It didn’t seem like it. But it made it easier for her to tell the story.

“When I turned 18, I invited Louis over to help me. I didn’t say with what. But the second he saw my parents...the ones that didn’t love me anymore... Louis moved me into his place... I felt so horrible, but I actually asked him to stay there just until... until I left for university at the end of the summer. He looked... betrayed. Like I let him down... He gave me the lecture of the century and Eleanor just braided my hair while he did. They made my favorite food. Neither of them said Happy Birthday once and I didn’t even care because for even just one day someone was taking care of me again,” she had done well up to this point not crying.

She sniffled and shook her head. She reached up and outlined Harry’s eyebrows, the shape of his nose. The curve of his lips and the jawline that ached her to the core. “Louis doesn’t talk about it, but I know he saw more than I ever wanted him to. I know he resents the way I hid. I think part of him wished I still lived with him. He insisted I stay the summers I came home from university,” she told the sleeping figure.

“But I got a boyfriend part way through university. We moved in quickly. Of course, I took care of him... and I didn’t mind. I liked it. He liked it. He was easy... food, sex, cleaning...” she mumbled. “But I still went to visit my parents because I couldn’t help it. I’ve never told Louis that. I didn’t tell my therapist that either...I’m sure she would be mad. And you know, I still go twice a month without telling anyone. Well, except you now... I don’t know why... I don’t know... I couldn’t leave them...they...they have to be in there still, right? The people that threw me princess birthday parties and put Band-Aids on my knees after a fall on my bike? Even after...after all of it...they’re my parents somewhere in there. Every time I go it’s just...yelling and hating me. I clean, make sure there’s food in the fridge, and then I leave,” Harry didn’t answer her. “I was supposed to stay the night at a hotel because I was supposed to move some of the last of my things...but it was a bad day. I just wanted to go home... I guess I got the sex part right with him,” she said with a smirk but without humor in her voice. “Just...not with me. Guess I didn’t do a good job there either,” she sighed sadly. “So... There it is. They just...acted as if I died too.”

Harry didn’t move a muscle. She smiled softly and kissed his cheek. “I think that’s everything,” she whispered. “I think you know everything now,” she told him. “Good night, baby,” she whispered tucking herself against his chest.

There was no movement for at least a full minute and then his arms came around her so tightly, he squeezed her like he was trying to press all the broken pieces back together. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that,” he pressed his lips to her temple and she closed her eyes tight trying to keep the tears from spilling over like a waterfall. “S’great t’know you,” he squeezed her again. “S’an honor t’know y’care ‘bout me,” he mumbled to her.

She nodded her head in recognition that she had heard him but if she spoke, she would either cry or, worse, tell him she loved him. So, she sighed deeply against his chest and slowly fell asleep while he pressed another kiss to her forehead. Like he was trying to heal her from the outside in just by kissing the front of her tired, sad brain.

Part of her thought that with Harry it might work.

Next Wednesday

Harry was going to lose his mind. When he started the day, he was so excited that he finally had good news for the sweet girl and was excited about their future. He couldn’t wait to surprise her during their movie night the following day, at home snuggled on the comfy couch.

Instead, he was totally blindsided by the fourth of the same type of phone call of that same day.

The call started out the same as all the other ones he’d been getting. They introduced themselves. “Aye, Harry. Zayn. How are you?”

Harry blinked in surprise at the voice at the other end. Zayn was CEO of his own company, located a few towns over called Malik Industries. Rarely did they interact with one another because their clientele was very different. But every so often at big black-tie shin digs and philanthropic events they’d run into one another. In this business, it was all about networking. He was hoping he wouldn’t get this call only because Zayn was closest to his age... which was closer to her age... “Right, good. Yourself?”

“Great. Listen, I’ll make this quick, I know you’re a busy guy. I have an application in front of me and it lists you and Niall as references, and I’m used to seeing Niall’s name... but I had to ask you. You never give your name as a reference.” His heart stopped because he could only guess who the application belonged to.

She applied here too?

“Harry?” He asked. “Did I lose you?”

“Uh...” he shook his head trying to regain his composure. He was absolutely confused. She didn’t say anything about applying to any of these places and this was the fourth phone call he had to sit through with an aching heart. “No, sorry. Untimely email,” he muttered quickly. He wasn’t even facing his computer.

“Right, I understand. I’ll keep it short... you think she would be good here?”

His breath caught in his throat. She would be good anywhere. But the idea of not seeing her smiling face each afternoon carrying tea in her hands to his office (not that she would continue to have to do that if she worked here full time) was the last thing Harry wanted. “Uh...yeah, she...she would be great.”

There was a pause and a short chuckle. “I know you don’t usually do these reference calls, but there’s usually a bit more than that.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat trying to get the words to spill out. How could he tell her she was perfect? How could he just give her away? He wanted her there all the time in every facet of his life. She made everything better. “I know, I know,” Harry shook his head again in an attempt to get his verbal processing to work again. “She’s perfect. She can do anything. Fit in anywhere. If she doesn’t know how t’do something, she’ll figure it out. Brilliant. Truly. It’s cutthroat out there and she still manages t’be an angel. Doesn’t even bat an eye in the face of adversity. She’ll keep morale up by decorating for holidays and she makes the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.”

“See that’s what—”

“You can’t have her,” Harry interrupted flatly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought she applied because there—”

“Yes. No. I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “She did apply. She would be perfect. You can’t question that. Seriously. Y’would probably hand her the keys t’your office if she joined y’in any capacity. I want t’do that somedays...but I want t’keep her here.”

“I see,” Zayn sounded agreeable. “She sounds quite special. Her recommendations, her transcript, everything is incredible. She seems like a wonderful asset Harry. Are you sure you have room for her?”

He prickled at the notion that he wouldn’t make room for her. “Yes,” he said definitively.

“Alright. Well, good for you. I hope she’s happy there. I’ll take her application any time in the future if you see a reason she needs to go elsewhere.”

Harry didn’t see it happening ever. “Sorry t’disappoint.”

“Not a problem at all. You know a good one when you see them, I get it. Have a good one,” the call ended abruptly. As if on cue, she knocked and opened his door at quarter past the hour. Clockwork. She closed the door quickly.

“Hi baby,” she winked as she whispered the pet name at him. “Brought your tea. And I got us some cake pops. I think they’re yummy. Maybe we could try to make them from scratch this weekend.”

There is no way she could just go. His heart fluttered at her words, and he smiled. He felt the ache in his chest melting away as it always did when she was around while he was upset. “Whatever you want, kitten.”

Harry didn’t tell her about the good news during movie night. He was too upset about all the phone calls.

He didn’t tell her while they were making cake Pops on that Saturday either.

When she chose to just exist that weekend a couple months ago, and not remember anything that happened over her horrible couple of days and not think about her parents, she did catch up with Louis and Eleanor that following Tuesday. Harry watched from her kitchen as the pair of them cooed over her and she let some tears fall.

“Your mum’s not having a memorial,” Eleanor told her. So that was that. It was over.

“Oh,” she said like it was a surprise.

Louis glanced at Eleanor and pursed his lips. She combed her hair back and gave her another hug while Louis pressed his hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Louis glanced at Harry and shrugged. Harry thought that meant her mum wasn’t having a memorial that she could attend. It hardened Harry’s heart while he set some mugs of tea on her counter out for the three of them.

The lawyers managed to get some information about her inheritance. The house was already in a trust under her name. “Harry, we’re grasping a bit at straws here. We don’t practice family law,” he reminded him during their next movie night.

“I know, I know. M’sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck while he watched from the kitchen as the girl swayed quietly on the porch swing. At the end of February, she was still insistent on sitting in the freezing cold. “I jus’ want t’make sure she’s taken care of.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think this woman cares,” he said bluntly.

Harry frowned and ended the phone call before heading to the swing with mugs of hot chocolate. She lifted the blanket, a beanie hat almost falling into her eyes as he slid in beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder and for the moment Harry just let her live knowing that as long as she stayed here, she was cared for.

Which is why he was so happy when the lawyers finally informed him that she would have the house... eventually. The life insurance policy was never changed out of her name, and it wasn’t like they could change it now. All of it was something that could ease the ache of the worry she had.

Harry attended the memorial service, too, a week or so after that. He told her and Niall he was attending to business out of town. Niall looked at him suspiciously and he felt bad lying to the sweet girl but he...he wanted to...well he didn’t even know what he wanted. He just wanted to know what her parents were like. There were many people there. He was surprised that they still had friends after cutting off their sweet daughter. But Harry was trying his best not to judge their mourning.

He saw Louis and Eleanor there gently consoling her mother without it truly reaching their eyes. Louis saw Harry at the edge of the mourners at the cemetery, he gave him a succinct nod and then tilted his head discreetly to the right.

When everyone left, he headed to where Louis gestured, totally alone.

He read the dates on the stone, did the math, and he sighed. “I’ll do anything for her,” he knelt and pulled some weeds away from the flowers laid there. Quietly to her brother’s grave, he whispered “I promise.”

Monday

Now seemed like it was too late to tell her anything about the good news. She had seemed off all evening. Maybe it was the stress of graduation and her internship. The office had been so busy lately they hardly had a moment to have tea in the afternoon.

It was his own fault, however. When all said and done.

Now, he was walking her home from dinner. Well, actually, he was nearly running after her. She refused to get in the car. Despite how late it was. So, Harry followed her on foot. She was fast, even in the little heels she wore. The driver was close behind on their trail as well.

“I didn’t ask for you to do that!” She snapped at him. She never snapped at him. Not once. And there were plenty of times she could have over the last eight and a half months. But he thought he was being helpful. Figuring out the stuff with her mum, finding a way to finally split Niall’s position. All of it.

He thought things were going so well and even with the end of her internship coming up at the end of the next month, he was so hopeful for their future in so many ways. He didn’t really know what went wrong. He kept the conversation light trying to figure out her slightly soured mood. It didn’t seem completely fair, but he was heartbroken that he made her upset.

But it was the email that was the final straw. She received it in the middle of dinner. Mr. Malik stated there must have been miscommunication as she would be staying with Styles Incorporated. He would love to have her, feel free to apply in the future if so needed, but of course, she should stay where she’s comfortable.

Harry was in mid-conversation with the waiter, ordering dessert. Something she was reallylooking forward to when she read through the email. But the second she finished it she was angry and didn’t want dessert. She called Niall quickly, while Harry was still chatting, holding one finger up as she put her phone to her ear.

He winked at her, continuing his conversation and didn’t mind at all whether she was using her phone nor questioning it. He’d done so many times before and she was always so kind and patient about it. If he did question it, so shortly after the email, maybe he would have seen it coming. But he didn’t...he didn’t see it coming at all. “Did you...talk to Mr. Malik?” She asked him when Niall answered.

“No, darling, I haven’t heard from him or...or anyone yet about your applic—”

“Never mind,” she hung up. The second she uttered the name of another company Harry’s voice died in the conversation he was having, and he directed his attention to her.

“Did you?” She asked, point blank.

“Yes,” he said. “I told him you would be a perfect fit.”

She blinked. “Then why does he think I’m staying at Styles Incorporated?”

Harry frowned. “Don’t you want to?”

She wasn’t going to lie. “I mean...yes...but don’t you think you should have told me you were going to hire me before—”

“I just figured—"

“Harry...I’ve been rejected or ghosted from everywhere I applied to. I’ve been crying to Niall so stressed and anxious that I’m not good enough and—have you been telling everyone in the area?”

“You’ve been crying about—?”

“Harry,” she snapped.

He was surprised by her tone. “Of course...I want t’keep you,” he whispered.

“Well, what if I can’t,” her voice cracked, her hand fiddling with her silverware on the plate.

“What are y’talking about? Of course, y’can,” he said quickly reaching across the table for her hand but she pulled it back. “Kitten.”

“I don’t want dessert,” she said and stood up and marched out of the restaurant. He hurried to throw money on the table and follow after her.

When they made it to her apartment building, she was huffing. She was angry the entire way there not listening to Harry call after her, not stopping even though he begged. Harry felt like he was losing her with every step. When they reached her door, he tried again to console her as best he could. “Love, I just wanted to hel—”

“I know you feel entitled to everything I am and do because of what we are, but I didn’t ask you to do any of that! Stay out of my business.”

“Kitten,” Harry felt crushed, like she stole all the air out of her lungs.

“I know you told Louis and Eleanor about my graduation ceremony, and I let it slide... because part of me is hoping they forget that it’s in two weeks because right now, I don’t want to go. It hurts to think about my brother’s ceremony—the last time we were a family. And I know you had your lawyers talking to my mom because she called me today all up and arms about how I’m selfish to even take what she’s giving me and of course I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. I thought it was a prank,” Harry was silent as he listened. “I know you have your driver follow me around whenever I’m out walking. Not even at night,” still quiet. But he dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment before looking back up at her. It did sound controlling when she was so angry. “On top of all that, I hadn’t gotten any notice about my student loans so I called my servicer to inquire. And guess what?”

Harry’s lips pressed together. He didn’t say a word. Because of course he already knew why she didn’t get any info about her loans. “Now this? Harry, I’ve worked my butt off to do this on my own and you just...told every company within a twenty-mile radius that I’m staying, and I didn’t even get to know that I could do it on my own? That all my hard work and all those hard things I had to face on my own just meant nothing? I thought I failed so miserably.” She was crying so hard, and she wished she wasn’t but every time she felt anger coursing through her it was an unfortunate consequence. Harry just wanted to console her and make it stop. He felt so terrible.

Every day she showed up to work and made everyone’s life so much easier. She baked brownies for the breakroom, made copies for anyone that asked because she was the only one who could stop it from jamming, and of course she went out every day, snow, sleet, hail, or rain to get himself and Niall their Starbucks order. She took care of him when he was sick and saved such a large chunk of his company, he could never repay her. All he wanted to do was help her the way she helped everyone else.

“Love,” he whispered reaching for her. She stepped out of his way.

“Just go,” she snapped as she slammed the door shut in his face. His heart felt broken, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Because as always, she was right. He just...did everything for her because he could. Really because he wanted to, but he should have at least asked.

He could hear the sniffles and her tears through the door. He waited a minute listening to her gasping breath hoping something in his head would click. Something would appear in his mind that he could say to her. But in times like this, it was usually her that knew what to do. So of course, he couldn’t ask her. As he turned to leave, he heard her croaked voice whispering Louis’ name into the phone.

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fanaticsnail · 6 months

Text

You Kissed the Clown? Part 10

Hello everyone! Part 10 is complete (Part 9 is back here!).

After reuniting our couple, I wanted to flesh out a bit more of a chapter to introduce an outsider perspective to the situation unraveling. This chapter is from Sanji's perspective!

I am already working on Chapter 11 to hopefully bring a bit more understanding to the depth of the unravelling relationship as it reveals itself.

Word Count: 2,364

Bewilderment is a place Sanji felt himself be held within, not entirely processing the scene that lay before him at the suspended kitchen dining table.

After Zoro appeared to reluctantly bring himself above deck with no sentient decapitated head in tow, Sanji was curious; more curious still at the reason the First-Mate left the head behind close to the vicinity of the tinkerer.

“Where’s our beautiful and radiant flower?” Sanji asked, referring to the aforementioned tinkerer with a taunting smirk in his addressal of the swordsman.

Zoro chose not to reply to Sanji’s question, choosing instead to ignore him as he made his way to Luffy and lean against the wooden railing. The Captain of the Going Merry was sitting with a wooden fishing pole clasped tightly between his fists, a slightly vacant and far away in thought.

“We have a situation,” the swordsman uttered monotonously while staring at the open sea.

Luffy shook his head to break himself away from his thoughts and brought his gaze to the swordsman beside him.

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement, “and we’re on our way to get my navigator back right now.”

Zoro breathed a large breath through his nose at Luffy’s naivety, hanging his head as he continued to lean against the polished wooden frame of the ship.

“I’m not talking about Nami,” he relayed to his Captain, “I’m talking about our tinkerer.”

“What’s wrong with my boatswain?” Luffy asked, furrowing his brows in deep thought, “she’s amazing. I couldn’t ask for a better negotiator, truly.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Zoro said in a low, slightly agitated tone.

Luffy placed the pole arm of the fishing rod against the wall of the ship, steadying it to maintain its current course of action.

“Then what?” Luffy’s brows knit together in confusion, an anxious smile brought to his lips.

Zoro sighed out a breath in an attempt to rid himself of his agitation, gripping his fists against the railing of the ship. As he steadied his breathing, he rose his head up and rolled his neck to rid it of any clicks found within.

“She’s,” Zoro halted the words in his throat, not sure how to proceed with his sentence.

Sanji narrowed his eyes in an attempt to spy the words quietly leaving Zoro’s lips as he said something inaudible to Luffy. The Captain’s eyes widened at the words leaving the mouth of the First-Mate. The chef attempted to lean his ear further in to fully comprehend the magnitude of the drama enfolding, but again; straining to hear nothing.

Sanji witnessed Luffy inhale a deep breath through his nose and tightly scrunch his eyes shut in thought before releasing his breath in a slow, drawn out way.

“And you are certain of this?” Luffy asked Zoro, his tone serious in nature.

“I’m more than certain,” Zoro reiterated, “she told me so, herself.”

The chef of the Going Merry witnessed the Captain again take in a slow, drawn out breath to calm himself, humming slightly in thought as he brought his hand up to his chin.

“Sanji!” Luffy yelled, prompting Sanji to jump a little at his sudden addressal.

”Yes captain?” Sanji replied, walking over to Luffy with his left hand in his pocket.

Luffy hardened his expression in deep thought before relaying to the chef: “I’m going to need some meat.”

Sanji blew a small snicker out of his nose, a smirk appearing over his features.

“Given up on fishing already?” Sanji jested with him.

“No,” Luffy shrugged his shoulders, “I just wanted to eat while I’m waiting to catch something else to eat.”

Sanji snickered at the comment, nodding at his receival of the command lay before him.

“I’ll get right on it,” he smiled while turning to make his way to the kitchen.

And this is where he found himself in a bewilderment.

A large, green gemstone lay beside the left elbow of the designated boatswain, or beautiful tinkerer; as Sanji referred to her. A small hessian sack of corn starch also had the retractable drawstring slacked to reveal the white powder within; a metal scoop lay discarded at the side of the table.

His pestle was currently lying beside his mortar as a mixture of mint-green powder lay within; Sanji deducing the gemstone being crushed beneath his pestle being the origin of the hue.

A small giggle escaped from between the lips of the tinkerer as she tapped against the cheek of the decapitated head with a rounded soft brush. A chuckle also left the lips of the unnerving clown-head as his features softened under the ministrations of the woman.

She turned to undo her tinkering bag, only to make eye contact with him in the process.

“Sanji,” she sighed with a broad, beaming smile, “just the man I needed.”

“I thought I was the only man you needed,” grunted the head on the table, pouting at the lips. She turned to the head and shook it as a small reprimand.

“You need to eat,” she said, her tone almost loving, “and this is our chef. Sanji, have you made the acquaintence of Captain Buggy yet?” She turned to face the chef once more, his face continuing to remained stunned at the scene he unwittingly found himself within.

After the silence hung in the air for a short while, again he heard you address him; prompting him to snap back into attention.

“Would you mind, dear?” she asked him, gesturing to the teal-coloured refrigerator unit within the kitchen; prompting Sanji to break from her gaze and look to the object.

“Would I mind-?” Sanji trailed his sentence off before looking into the kind eyes of the ship’s boatswain.

“He hasn’t eaten in almost a week,” she said with a small, saddened smile pulling at her lips. Sanji knit his brows together at the comment, withdrawing into himself and reminiscing what his own starvation felt like.

“I’ll, uh,” Sanji said, again looking between the clown head and the tinkerer, “get right on it.”

“Thank you, Sanji,” She nodded at him in appreciation before turning to claim more of the powder within the rounded brush.

Sanji continued to eavesdrop the conversation unfolding at the hanging table between the pirate captain’s head and the tinkerer as he brought out several slices of pork belly and short-grain rice. He washed the rice after he prepared the pork belly with several spices and salts; continuing to silence himself to understand the greater context of what was being brought forth.

“And where did you learn this little trick again, my love?” the clown head asked her, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed into her eyes with his mouth slightly agape.

Sanji halted his motions, processing the title the unnerving clown bestowed onto you.

“We had many beach days growing up,” he heard you relay while focussing on powdering the face of the clown in a swiping motion, “and my father favoured experimenting with mineral rocks. My mother drawn more so towards the things that shined.”

You giggled at your own comment, continuing the swiping motion against the cheeks and forehead of the clown.

“And considering you did not want to part with your war paint,” you again hummed in a teasing tone, “you gave me no choice but to make powder from my talc stone to rid its coarseness from your pretty face and not disturb your artistry.”

Sanji heard the clown head sigh, but choosing to keep his eyes fixed forward to make himself as non-disruptive as possible to hear the conversation engaged between them.

“You think I’m pretty?” the clown whispered. He heard you place down the tool, seeking out your movement from the corner of his eye and noticing your hand extended to rest at the left cheek of the enemy captain and caress him.

“I think you are beautiful,” you replied with sincerity.

Sanji snapped his gaze back to his cuisine creation, finishing braising the meat and ensuring the flesh be fully tenderised before crumbing it by coating it in bleached flour, dunking it in a spiced egg concoction before finishing the wet exterior with long flakes of dried, crustless bread.

“So this is the situation that Zoro was mentioning,” Sanji thought within his mind as he poured a large amount of oil into a pan, “she’s sweet on the clown-captain.”

You continued to dab the brush on the painted, oil-based substance and successfully ridding the course sand from its firm grasp on the clown. After one more swipe, Sanji heard you sigh in relief as an indication your task was completed.

“I’m just going to clean all of this up to make room for your dinner,” Sanji heard you relay to the clown. He hummed in reply; Sanji again finding himself bewildered at no taunts, no jabs and no expression of any other emotion from the foreign captain than utter contentment.

Sanji felt you close to him as you required the sink to wash your items. Sanji noticed your bandaged right hand and immediately made to take the items from within it.

“Leave it, love,” Sanji smiled before nodding at the bandage, “you don’t want to undo all of that hard work.”

You furrowed your brows and followed his gaze to the gauze on your palm and sighed. Your partially hardened and confused expression relented from its grip on your face as you smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you nodded your head at him while continuing to pile up the variety of items and bring them to the sink. Sanji looked over to the powder within the mortar, watching you as you emptied it into a small box.

“Talc and corn starch?” Sanji asked with a quirk of his brow upwards.

“Talcum powder,” you nodded while tapping the side of your left hand at the mortar and relinquishing all of the powder from the container into the box, “used in beauty routines and household cleaning.”

You tilted your head to the side before presenting it up towards the chef and gesturing for him to inhale it. He drew a breath in, inhaling the powder and taking in its sweet aroma.

“I grew up using it to rid my feet of the dry sand that clung to them after swimming at the beach with my siblings,” you shrugged, placing a lid upon the container and fastening a piece of leather twine around it to secure it fully.

Sanji nodded, placing the crumbed pieces of pork into the hot oil on the stove, a sizzling sound reverberating throughout the kitchen. You turned to look at the sheer number of portions Sanji had prepared of the pork.

“Are we expecting more company?” you chuckled in question, nodding to the benchtop.

“No, just Luffy,” Sanji shrugged, pulling a melodical laugh from your lips in response. He found himself smiling at you as he noticed the smell wafting from the rice.

“His portion is ready,” Sanji said, nodding to the head on the felt table.

You turned to look at the clown head, who’s eyes were bound tightly shut and wincing slightly. You brought your brows together at the expression coming from his face before Sanji broke you from your thoughts.

“Would you like me to serve it so you can share it with him privately,” he offered, voice free of judgement or malicious intent, “Luffy, Usopp and Zoro will be here shortly.”

You inhaled a sharp breath at the notion, bringing your gaze up to the chef in front of you. You looked between both of his eyes in the search for anything more sinister; prejudice or otherwise at your open adoration for the clown and smiling warmly once it found none.

“I would like that very much, Sanji,” you whispered quietly, bringing a smile to the chefs face.

He plated it within a travelling box and covered it with a thin piece of material much like you would prepare for your younger siblings to take on their journeys to school. After handing you the material, he held your movement by not yet removing his grip from the material.

“We can’t help who we love,” he said in a voice audible only to you, “but please be careful.”

You smiled in response, bringing your wrapped right hand up to his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze in thanks.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” you said to the chef, “and I will heed your warning.”

Sanji nodded as he released his grip from the packed bento and turned to continue cooking the portions of Katsu-don for his captain and crewmen. You made your way back to the table and Sanji heard the gentle plop of you placing the box down before you spoke next.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he heard you laugh, “I don’t know how to best do this to make it as comfortable for you as I can.”

The clown-captain chuckled wholeheartedly, or as wholeheartedly as he could while his heart was currently separated from himself. Sanji again slightly turned his head to spy on the two of you through his peripherals.

“Don’t overthink it,” he hopped his head in its place atop the teal fabric cover of the hanging dining table, his twinkling smile prominent on his features, “you could never hurt me.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment and apprehensively moved your hands closer to his cheeks, taking them between your hands and caressing him a little in the process. He leaned into your touch as you gently rose him by his jaw to your left shoulder and held him against your neck with your left hand.

From this angle, the nearness looked almost like an embrace. He noticed the clown close his eyes and lean his head into the crook of your neck as you attempted to carry both the sentient head and the packed lunch within your wrapped right hand.

After managing to find an appropriate weight distribution, you turned to Sanji and dipped into a small and abrupt curtsey.

“Thank you again, Sanji,” you said before rising back to your feet. Sanji smiled in response and clicked the silver tongs twice in a playful manner at you before returning to his task of frying fifty portions of katsu-don and pouring a thickened, curry sauce atop the meat.

Part 11

Tag List:

@thesadvampire @a-phan-of-youtube @multifandombtch @plan3t-plut0 @tiredemomama @tfamidoingwithmylife @bimboshaggy @plan3t-plut0 @vixnicknacks @tesha-i-guess @glitteryblizzardsalad @hellbaby237 @shuujin @nevaeh-jasso @hellbaby237 @gingernut1314 @sl00tty-v @redpool

#opla #one piece #x reader #one piece live action #opla fic #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #captain buggy #buggy #buggy fic

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myechoecho · 13 days

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Lovely Runner, ep 4

This show just ripped my heart out in the first and last scenes that were from Sun Jae's perspective. We get the confirmation that he was the one who saved her. How it must have hurt for him to hear Sol saying he should have left her to die. He did remember her on the bridge in the future. I wonder if he connected what she said about being thankful for existing to what he said to Sol back then. Sun Jae wanted to take her home not only because he is genuinely nice person, but he because he wanted to spend more time with her after all those years. Sol gives him the candy and he is reminded of the first time she gave it to him.

I WAS A MESSSSS with scene.

I am also more firm that he did not commit suicide.

Sol figures out that she can change the future. I am also curious as to what Sun Jae felt he had to apologize for. Sol works out how to go back to the past.

I guess past/OG timeline Sol does not remember spending time with Sun Jae, which is why she tells her mom and grandma that she's lost chunks of her memories. I feel really bad for Sun Jae. Sol is confusing him terribly. Not totally on purpose but still confusing him.

What I find really interesting is Tae Sung is the only one who really gets that there are two Sols. Well, gets might not be quite the right word. But he's the only one who sees two different personalities. He instantly knew when 2023 Sol was back because he automatically called her grandma again. Some of that has to do with how 2023 Sol has been speaking to him. She talks to him very differently than anyone else. Still, he can separate the two Sols though I am not sure what he thinks about it. I genuinely like him.

I cannot believe Sol just talked her way into Sun Jae's house. The books knocking her out was a bit ridiculous (as was his dad somehow forgetting she was there). However I am willing to forgive that since we get the hand measuring scene that had me screaming into my hands. Then I was dying of laughter when he just up and rolled her up in a blanket, put her over his shoulder to get her our of the house without his dad knowing.

I am glad that Sun Jae told her to stop or try to draw some sort of boundary. I love how despite his frustration, he gave her his slippers. He's such a good person in all of this.

The taxi driver was really suspicious. My guess is that he has something to do with her accident and that it happened on that bridge. She's wearing her uniform in the first scene when Sun Jae saves her plus it happens a couple months from where we are currently in the timeline. Her falling in the water now and Sun Jae pulling her out must have triggered the memory from the accident.

And then we get the last scene where we find out that not only did Sun Jae know it was Sol on the phone, but he deliberately called her. Honestly, I feel almost like Sol in that I want to protect Sun Jae at ALL COST.

#lovely runner #kdrama

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wildlife4life · 3 months

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Fuck-It Friday

Tagged by the super amazing @daffi-990, @diazsdimples, @theotherbuckley, @disasterbuckdiaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie and @wikiangela. Thank you and I'm excited for all your upcoming works!

I know what the people want, so here is another snippet from NFL Buck featuring more of Buck's perspective. (All things NFL Buck can be found here.)

Ali gave him one last tight hug, "You did good Buckley. Shook all the right hands, stayed away from the corporate sharks, and the press absolutely loved you." She praised. Buck felt warm all over and gave her a soft, grateful smile, "We both know I only survived this evening because of you. I can't thank you enough Ali really." His agent's eyes misted over and she smiled in return, "Maybe so Evan," He scrunched his nose and Ali rolled her eyes, "Sorry...Buck. You still haven't told me how you got that chicken sounding nickname and why only like four other people besides me call you it." They both chuckled, but quickly sober. She gives his right bicep a gentle squeeze, "I'm only here because of you. Because you took a chance on a no name, client-less, newbie sports agent who was brought to you by your secret boyfriend after he patched her up following an astronomically awful rage quit that put her asshat of a boss in the hospital." "He tried forcing himself on you. It was self defense and a faulty balcony railing." Buck reminded with a smirk. The petite brunette winks, "And thats the story I'm still sticking to." She waved her hand around brushing away the past, "The point is, were here because of your hard work, sacrifice and enormous heart. I'm just making sure no one takes advantage of it all. Accept your share of the credit and celebrate being the 9th pick in the first round of the 2013 NFL draft. Celebrate being the Houston Texan's newest quarterback! Whoo!" She shouts in elation. Buck laughs boisterously and cheers right along with her, at a lower volume level and with less energy. He was happy really. The dream he's had since he was six was becoming a reality. All the practicing, studying, workouts, and personal sacrifice had finally paid off. Ali was one of numerous people who got him to this point and he was glad he at least had her at his side tonight, but Buck really wished the three most important people in his life were with him too. Maddie sent an email from her work account congratulating him, but Buck hadn't seen or physically heard from the woman who basically raised him since he left for college. Eddie couldn't get the time off and neither of them felt comfortable bringing a soon to be five year old Christopher to New York. Kid was still getting the hang of his new crutches and finding adequate childcare for him that didn't involve Eddie's parents was impossible. Buck really missed his Diaz boys (and his sister, but that was an ache he was accustomed to). He wanted to see Christopher's blinding joy when Evan's name was called, even though he wouldn't quite understand what it entailed. He wanted Eddie to wrap him up in the tightest hug while shouting his excitement too close to Buck's ear before kissing him stupid and shoving him towards the stage. Buck wanted to be out and open and proud with his partner and son, but the world his football dreams are apart of, wouldn't accept it and that tight ache in Buck's chest will have to stay.

A bit angsty today, but I want ya'll to see these milestones of a professional players road to the NFL. It takes so much hard work and sacrifice to make it to the NFL, and for Buck that includes the personal sacrifice to stay closeted and keep his same sex relationship a secret. A lifelong dream like that is worth it to him, to many professional athletes. I hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @lover-of-mine @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @cal-daisies-and-briars @transboybuckley

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specialagentlokitty · 1 month

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Master chief x reader - the fear of loosing you

Laying on your side, you stared at the wall in front of you, looking at the photo you had stuck on there.

Only one photo, but that was all you needed, the only thing that you needed while you were laid here like you had been doing for the past few days.

There was a knock on your door, and you rolled over to see who it was coming into your room.

“Hey Riz.” You smiled.

“Hey.”

She walked over, and sat down in front of your bed.

“You weren’t at the landing zone when we returned. Chief has to go debrief but he asked me to quickly come see if you were alright.”

You smiled at her, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just resting.”

She nodded her head, studying your face for a moment.

“How did it go?” You asked.

“It went well.”

Riz sat there explaining their most recent mission to you, what they went through, what they did, the flight there and back.

You happily laid there and listened to her as she told you about the mission from her perspective.

She didn’t have long to talk, so eventually she got back up, saying bye as she left the room, and you rolled back over to look at the photo.

You had spent a few hours asleep while you waited for John, and you were woken up by the sound of somebody entering your room.

“Hey, it’s only me.”

“John…”

You shuffled over, and he came over a minute later, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and you rolled over to look up at him.

He was laid on his side looking down at you, and you smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“What have you been doing?”

You yawned a little as you sat up, wrapping half your blanket around you and you tossed the other half around him.

“Well, I had some paper work to do, so I finally finished that which absolutely sucks. Honestly paperwork is going to be the death of me.”

“Why aren’t you allowed back into active duty? Is something wrong with your leg?” He asked.

You looked at your leg, lifting your trouser leg a little to show him your calf, the pinkish scar healing.

“No, it’s alright. A little sore to move sometimes though.”

He nodded his head, carefully examining your leg, running his thumb along your new scar.

He had picked it up from you, because it’s what you did with his, you would trail your fingers along them.

“I think it’ll still be a while before I can go into active duty, for now it’s riding the desk for me.”

John nodded his head.

“Have you been doing your physio therapy exercises you were given?”

“I haven’t done them yet. I was feeling tired all day so I spent a lot of it asleep.”

John stood up, and he walked over to your desk, flicking through a few things on your console before pulling them up on your wall.

“It’s important to your recovery that you do them, it may impact your future mobility if you don’t.”

“I know, I know.”

You shuffled over to the edge of the bed, and John helped you stand.

He always helped you with your physio, making sure you were actually doing it and making sure that you were taking frequent breaks while doing it.

When you were finished, he sat you down in the chair, and sat in front of you, rolling your trouser leg and grabbed the cream you were given.

“Miranda said this will help with the scarring, it won’t get rid of it but it’ll help with the appearance. It also acts as a numbing agent which will allow you to move around a little longer.”

You nodded your head, placing your hands on his face while he put the cream on your injured leg.

You ran your thumbs along his cheeks, and leant down to kiss the top of his head, giving him a little smile when he looked up at you.

He put the lid on the cream, and sat there looking up at you with gentle but curious eyes.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“I just felt like it.”

He nodded, pushing himself up, on the way up he let you stop him and gently kiss him, which he returned.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Wait here, I’ll bring you something.”

“Thank you.”

He gave you a little smile, and he left your room.

You sat there for a minutes before moving over to your bed to sit back down.

You weren’t even hungry, but you didn’t want to worry John, so you would eat some of whatever it was he brought for you.

But your decline in health had been noticed by all of the Spartans, though they didn’t know the reasoning behind it.

They tried to look, they asked Miranda but she claimed she didn’t know.

John came back with a tray of food for you, and he pulled over your chair, setting it down on the chair so you could eat while he went for a shower.

You ate a little bit, hiding the rest in the bin, and you laid on your bed with a book in hand as he came back through.

“Will you read to me?” John asked.

You smiled, setting that book on the floor and you picked up another one, holding your arm out.

John came padding over, and he laid alongside of you, resting his head on your stomach as you messaged his scalp with one hand, holding the book with the other as you read.

He spent most of the next day with you until he had to go do some work, and you were sitting at your desk doing some paperwork.

“Hey, I’ve managed to get a record of procedures we could do here.”

You looked to your door, finding Miranda standing there with a smile as she held some papers.

“As request all paper trail, so nothing will link back to you.”

You nodded, taking them from her so you could look through them.

“You don’t have to decide now, but we’ll need a decision soon so we can get you prepped for surgery.”

You set the papers into your draw and locked it, turning back around to look at her.

“How bad is it?”

Miranda sighed, coming over to your console and she pulled up a couple of her files that she had shared with you so you could see them as well.

She gestured to a few spots on one of the scans.

“These anomalies are where it’s metastasised, but they’re easy enough for surgeons to remove.”

You followed the small white specks along the scans.

“It’s spreading.”

“Yeah… but if we remove it all now and get you into treatment right after, once you’re given a clean bill we can then go about medication to prevent it coming back.”

“I mean come on Miranda we both know that there’s a chance that may not even work.”

“Right now yeah there is that chance, but if we can remove the masses while they’re still small then the treatment will work, we can prevent this coming back.”

You flicked through some of the other scans, blood results and whatever other labs they had taken on you.

“I’ll have to think about it, lock the file again.”

She nodded, locking it up for you again and you swapped back over to your file.

She left you, and you went back to doing paper work.

You didn’t want to think about your problem so you didn’t, you focused on your friends, you focused on John and spending time with him.

But soon it began to take its toll on you, and this is what alerted the Spartans, so they all came to your room, letting themselves in.

“What do you want? I said I don’t want company.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Vennick asked.

You opened your eyes, looking at the three of them.

“The chief is worrying about you, he’s trying to find out what’s going on.” Riz said.

“I’m fine…”

“You’re more tired than usual, you look sick, you’re getting weaker, and you’ve been visiting the doctors a lot more as well.” Kai said.

You stayed quiet.

“Just go away…”

“Are you sick?” Kai asked.

They all stayed quiet as they waited for your response.

You rolled over, turning your back to them, staring at the photo on your wall of you and John.

“Don’t tell John…” you whispered.

“He has to know.” Riz said.

“I’m not getting the treatment, so there’s no point him knowing.”

“Why? The treatment will help.” Vennick said.

“Because I don’t want it and it’s my choice… go away…”

You heard your door open and close, and you went back to trying to get to sleep, but everything felt uncomfortable.

You kept shuffling around, your bones ached, you felt a little sick, but overall you were just tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

And finally you managed to fall into a restless sleep, and that’s when John came in as a man on a mission, but when he saw you he stopped.

He didn’t want to wake you up, so he quietly made his was over, laying down in front of you, just looking at you.

He had noticed how you seemed to be always tired, you didn’t want to go on walks with him anymore, and he knew that at least half of your meals you were throwing in the bin.

He had been looking in every single file, ever lab results, every test that he could get his hands on that had your name but he couldn’t find it.

So when his team came to find him he knew his suspicions about something being wrong was true.

John laid there waiting for you to wake up, your back against his chest, his arm over your waist, your hand holding his tightly.

When you woke up he woke up as well, and you stretched a little bit.

“Hey…” you whispered.

John tapped your shoulder, letting you know that he wanted you to turn around so you did.

“You’re sick.”

“They told you…”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why aren’t you getting treatment?”

You sighed heavily.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry and I.. I just… I don’t want to go through all that pain…”

Johns eyes searched yours.

“You’ll die without it…” he said quietly.

You slowly nodded your head.

John reached up his hand, placing it on the side of your face, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

“You need to take the treatment. It will hurt, but you’ll be alive.”

“John…”

“I don’t want you to die.”

You went quiet, and you placed your hand on his chest.

“Oh sweetheart…” you whispered.

“Please don’t die…” he whispered back.

You gave John a soft smile, leaning forward to give him a short kiss before you pulled away.

“I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I don’t want to see you die. You need to get the treatment, whatever it is, you need to get it. Don’t let this illness win…”

“I’ll be bedbound for months.”

“I’ll look after you.”

You took a small breath, your eyes searching his.

He looked so sad, so lost and a little confused.

He leant forward, putting his forehead against yours.

“I’ll do whatever it is I have to do, whatever it is you need, for however long you need me to do it.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that…”

“I want to do it. I’ll do it for you.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re too good for me you know…”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

You laid there with him quietly for a few minutes before you finally nodded your head.

“Will you come with me to talk to Miranda about treatment options with the surgeon?”

“Of course. When would you like to go?”

“Can we this afternoon? I just want to lay here with you for a while.”

John nodded his head, laying on his back, letting you lay yourself across his chest, eventually falling back to sleep.

He looked at you, running his fingers through your hair, running his knuckles along your cheek, tracing small patterns into the small of your back.

He just laid there watching you, admiring you in all your beauty right now at this moment, how the sun hit your face, the small smile on your lips.

You were beautiful to him, and no matter what happened throughout your treatment you were always going to be beautiful to him.

He just wanted you to live.

He just wanted you to be with him, but his side no matter what.

You had always been there for him, even when he tried to push you away, even when he was at his lowest you were there and now it was his turn to be there for you, to help you get better, to make sure you weren’t sick anymore

#halo #halo x you #halo x reader #halo imagine #halo the series #John 117 #john 117 x reader #John 117 x you #John 117 imagine #master chief #master chief x you #master chief x reader #master chief imagine

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golvio · 4 months

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I think the metanarrative reason for the Princess being put into an antagonistic role in the “intended story structure” instead of being the protagonist is a big hint to her true nature.

While the protagonist gets to have the POV and make the major decisions that determine the story’s resolution, the antagonist is the one who actually makes things happen. Even when she’s not an antagonist and you’re working together, she’s still making things happen solely by being the only visible character present. Her mere presence changes things.

It’s very, very difficult to have a story without some external force or another character acting upon your protagonist and pressuring them to make a move. Even stories told primarily in flashbacks have the main character interacting with something, even if only in the past tense. A story where the main character just sat there, never interacting with anyone or anything, never having any experiences to learn from, would be incredibly boring. Simply having someone else there to talk to and play off of is enough to get things to move again.

Contrast this with The Narrator’s ideal story, which is a Wholesome™️ story where the main character does what they’re told and then never has anything bad happen to them ever because, as the only character left in the story, they’re safe from conflict, change, or heartbreak. Sure, it might not be a controversial story that would upset someone, but it’s also incredibly dull and unfulfilling. The credits roll and that’s it? That’s all we get?

It’s absolutely hilarious to me that, while The Narrator inserted his echo into the Construct under the conceit of being the literary device that’s the vehicle delivering the story to the reader, he really sucks at storytelling. He can’t build rapport with his audience (us) because he doesn’t understand what we want or how to persuade us beyond vague moral arguments with no emotional hooks whatsoever. He’s so inflexible and refuses to allow alternate interpretations that he can’t handle when things go off script, and can’t get the story back on track when we start going off the rails short of pulling a deus ex machina (which only works when the audience still has enough faith in him to take him seriously as storyteller instead of doing their own thing). Things only get interesting when the Princess gets involved. Things only move forward when she forces the issue, particularly in the Nightmare route, where you refuse to commit to a choice out of fear of potential consequences.

A friend of mine who recently did their first playthrough commented on how the underlying quest to collect perspectives for the Shifting Mound was basically an improv session. I think they’re right on the money. Each chapter is like a game of “Yes, And” between you and the Princess that continues until neither of you can think of anything else. The developers mentioned in an interview that Shifty M. only arrives to take the vessel home when the story “ends.” That is, when there’s nothing left to do. Improv is one of the genres of performance that best encapsulates Change in its demand for adapting to circumstances and new information, so of course The Narrator would be against it, preferring simple, linear narratives.

People tend to become fascinated with antagonists because they’re the ones who make things happen. Adding an antagonist who’s also a person is one of the easiest ways to start building a story. By making the Shifting Mound and her fragments our enemy and requiring us to get within talking distance in order to slay her, The Narrator shot himself in the foot by making Her the most compelling and interesting character by default.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #stp spoilers #the shifting mound #the narrator #princess princess

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witch-hazels-musings · 10 months

Text

Chivalry

citation: *song lyrics - Just for Now, Michael Crean

Knight!Diluc x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Kaeya, Jean - coming soon)

Diluc

He knew every assignment wouldn’t be enjoyable. As much as he’d prefer to be wandering the plains of Teyvat searching for those who would do his Kingdom harm, it wasn’t possible. Still, out of all the knights, out of all the assignments, why did it have to be this one?

Diluc sighed and did his best not to roll his eyes as he watched the Princess he was sworn to serve finish her discussion with a foreign dignitary. As the eldest of daughters, she was tasked to handle foreign affairs as well as the kingdoms resources while her younger sister and brother were able to be more free in their day to day. The older brother, the Prince in line for the throne was not well liked which made Diluc assume his sister would be the same. She wasn’t.

Still, Diluc found most of his time was standing off in the corner while meeting after boring meeting was held in the castle. He’d once climbed the coldest mountain in the land and, honestly, that sounded far more enjoyable than listening to another Fontainian talk down to the person whose patience knew no bottom.

“I understand you are frustrated by the swiftness of our response,” you said, hand moving to rest against the ambassadors arm. Diluc noted how his face flushed at the contact. “I cannot guarantee we will solve each problem, but rest assured I will not let a day go by without checking in and assessing how we can continue our support.” you bowed slightly and smiled.

ugh, the tediousness of talking to diplomats, Diluc frowned at it all.

Once the ambassador left, you wandered back to your seat to gather the notes, forms, and other documents you’d ultimately review until passing out in your room. Dark circles were starting to appear under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. He made his way to you, picking up the stack of books before you could.

“Is your schedule free?” He asked, twisting slightly away from as you tried to grab the items he picked up. You were stubborn, but so was he.

“Yes,” you said and sighed, “but not for long. The Favonius knights have requested more arms, and the masons require stone for the eastern wall. I didn’t get to these yesterday, so I’d like to attend to them before dinner.” Settling the items in your arms, you did your best to push the hair that continued to brush against your cheek away with puffs of air. It wasn’t working.

“Do you not think it is better to rest?” If his superiors were around, they would shame him for speaking so directly. ‘Royalty is to be tended to like a fragile flower, otherwise they will be tarnished,’ he could hear his mentor recite all the while forcing the knights in training to hold 40 lbs barrels over their head.

You looked into his eyes before moving on to appease him. “You always look after me, Sir Ragnvindr. I’m alright,” you smiled but he could see the exhaustion in your expression. A fragile flower, yeah right. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d much rather be beyond the castle walls.” You reached for the books he was holding, “I know being my guard isn’t very exciting, so please don’t let yourself be trapped for my sake. I can manage to make it back to my room without incident.”

Your hand touched his on accident. Quickly, you pulled back, apologized, then tried again. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped the items in your arms, adding them to his.

“S-Sir Ragnvindr!” You protested as he made his way to the door. He was much faster due to his long legs. Diluc couldn’t hide his smirk as he heard you rushing after him. It must have been hard to keep up in a dress as decorated as yours. “Please, it’s too much --” he stopped in front of the door only to feel you bump into him. When he twisted to look, he noticed you cupping your mouth and nose. He swore he saw a dab of color on your cheeks. “Sir, I cannot ask you to --”

“And yet I can ask you to carry all of this?” He cut you off and watched the implication of his words settle in your mind. Diluc wondered if you disliked the rules and expectations of royalty as much as he did. After all, before he was a knight he was a nobleman - he understood the pressure of this world better than most.

Deflated, defeated, you backed down. “If you insist.” He could tell you hated being doted on. In every interaction he’d seen between you and an attendant, you were always respectful, helpful, and often insisted upon doing the task yourself. At the end of the day, who could deny the eldest princess her request? Well, other than him --- “But as soon as we get back I can --”

You were cut off by a voice down the hall. If it was possible for the walls to have ears in this castle.

Diluc watched as you prepared yourself, stepped into the hallway and greeted the stranger. They were one of the Prince’s scribes, and a rather annoying one to boot. Diluc had a bitter taste in his mouth every time he showed his face. There was just something about the way he looked at you ...

“I was informed you were free,” he said with his head lifted as if to look down on you.

“That is the case, but ...”

“Do come with me then. I have work for you to attend to since it seems you cannot get them done without a watchful eye,” he reached for your wrist and Diluc moved before realizing it. With one step, he was in between the both of you but his cold gaze was seen only by one. The man’s hand retreated so quickly it was like Diluc’s proximity had burned him.

“The Princess has other priorities at this moment.”

“How dare --”

“As the Princess’s guard, I am to ensure she can fulfil her duty to the kingdom. Do you not think the Ambassador of Fontaine would be surprised to find his request delayed yet again because the Princess was pulled to another task?” Diluc stared the man down, commitment unwavering. He heard you start to say something so he stepped further in front of you.

“How da- I -- I’ll be speaking to your superior,” the man spat before turning on his heels and loudly walked back the way he came. Diluc didn’t move until he was out of sight.

“Sir Ragnvindr, you didn’t have to go that far,” you expressed as he turned to face you. Your head had dropped, your eyes looked to the floor while your fingers pinched their neighbors. “I will write a letter to Mrs. Gunnhildr explaining the situation.”

Diluc wasn’t sure why you were looking after him, he was capable of standing up for himself and dealing with whatever punishment might come his way. Besides, it was bound to be far less painful than watching you spend any amount of time with that man.

Wait ... what?

“Don’t fret over it. Let’s go,” Diluc quickly passed by you, his head shaking to remove his strange thoughts. He heard you catch up to him. From the corner of his eyes he could see you were still unsettled by what had happened.

“I um - I do want to thank you.”

“For?”

“For standing up for me. I - um - As you know it’s hard for me to say no,” you sent him an appeasing, sad smile. “Though I do feel guilty. Perhaps if I -- ah! Sir--”

Diluc put his hand against your back and pushed you forward just enough so you couldn’t turn around. “Don’t make me carry you too -” The words fell from his mouth so fast he had to snap his lips closed to not say anymore.

What in Teyvat was coming over him. You riled him up so much-

You let out a hearty laugh and his heart skipped a beat. “Haha! That would be a sight to see,” you covered your mouth but he wished you wouldn’t. “Sir Ragnvindr carrying the Princess through the halls of the castle. Can you imagine?”

He could imagine. Though the sight wouldn’t be pretty, nor proper, since the only way he’d see that happening is if he tossed you over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he was glad you were laughing at the idea rather than being appalled. Diluc put his hand back on the items he was carrying now that he knew you weren’t going to rush back down the hall.

For a moment he listened to the sound of your footsteps, to the soft giggles echoing in the hall. Why was the weight of his armor suddenly so noticeable?

“You can refer to me by my first name,” Diluc said as your laughter started to fade.

“Oh, but Sir Ragnvindr is so natural to me.” You tapped your chin before turning to look at him as you walked, “Sir Diluc --”

“Just Diluc is fine,”

You paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually, you turned to look down the hall, hands returning to hold onto each other. He wasn’t sure what was going on in your mind but, honestly, he wouldn’t have been prepared even if he did.

“Diluc ...” the sound of his name on your tongue nearly made him fall over. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw over and over again. “Um, actually, if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick with Sir. Ragnvindr for now ...” you explained in a panic.

Diluc didn’t dare look at you. What expression would he have it he met your gaze? So, he gave a curt nod and a quick, “Alright,” and the two of you made your way down the hall in silence.

Every once in a while you’d try to push him away. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because you needed a moment alone or if his wistful gaze toward the window drew too much attention. Out of the two, he’d much prefer you the latter, especially since his other stare was directed at you.

Weeks went by and he settled into a nice routine. It was difficult when he first arrived, but you asked him on several occasions if there was anything you could do to make his stay more comfortable. Even the smallest things; you did your best to get him what he asked.

Diluc didn’t want for much, so your offers were often left unanswered; however, he did notice a steady supply of grape juice in the kitchen when he was sure there hadn’t been before. He only mentioned it once.

At times he'd forget himself. Forget that he needed to hold an expression of disinterest. Forget to pull himself back when he was starting to soften each time his eyes landed on you, each time you stood close by, each time you turned to search for him.

You found him and he could breathe again.

He was forgetting how very high the wall was between the two of you and every day he spent in your shadow, it became blurrier and blurrier.

“I’m going to win!” You shouted, hair wiping around your face as you pushed forward. The horse you were riding picked up its pace with a flick of the reigns, pushing you past Diluc. How did he end up racing you again?

You cackled as you passed by and he couldn’t help but be swept up by the noise. With a deep, “hya!” he squeezed his thighs and tapped his horses belly, urging it to increase its speed. It did, and soon he was rushing past you and laughing at the sound of your fading protests.

When the path began to taper out, Diluc slowed his horse bit by bit until it was at a standstill. He patted its neck and praised it for its hard work while it raised and lowered its head, breathing heavily. Twisting so he could see behind him, he found you making your way toward him and your voice began to cut through the thicket of trees.

“---er! --eater!!” You reigned your horse in, coming to a soft canter until stopping beside him. Panting, you repeated yourself, “cheater.”

“I did no such thing,”

“You did!” Patting the neck of your horse, you moved up beside him, punching him in the leg when you were close enough.

“Hey-”

“Cheater--” You pointed at him, making him laugh. Carefully, he took your hand his his and moved it back toward you.

“Did you forget I’m also a Calvary Captain?” You scrunched your face in protest but quickly relaxed into realization, “Hah, you did!”

“Shut up--” Diluc laughed, louder than he had in so long. His hand pressed into his stomach and his eyes began to water. “Stop it --” you pleaded, the notes of laughter laced in your request. “You hardly ever talk about yourself. Sorry for not remembering something you told me almost a year ago.” You turned your head away from him, moved your hands to fix the hair that had fallen free from its holding. He found himself looking a little too long at the back of your neck.

“I don’t mean poke fun,” there was a stick in your hair but you didn’t seem to notice it. “Here,” with expert skill, he dismounted his horse. In a matter of seconds he had the reigns looped around a low hanging branch and had made his way over to you, his hand resting against the horses neck to let it know he was there. The horse bumped his head and he smiled. “Allow me to help,” he said, offering you his hand.

“Don’t need it,” you replied, fixing your clothes. You were wearing a pair of form fitting pants and a dark green top that pressing against you underneath a warm, cream vest. It was one of the only times he’d seen you not dolled up in what your maids forced you to wear every morning. He liked it.

Ignoring his hand, you began to dismount but, as he had expected, it’d been a while since you last rode so you weren’t as graceful as he was. Your hand on the saddle slipped but he was there to catch you.

“Got you,” he reassured you with an arm wrapped around your back, a hand gripping the waist of your pants before pulling you toward him. Your body collided into his chest. The heat of contact, the wave of your perfume, shampoo, crashed into him causing him to stumble backward. He’d caught whiffs before, hints and hypothesized about what it would be like. He never anticipated becoming overcome by it so intensely. Diluc held you while your toes scraped the ground, arms coiled around his neck for support.

Let her go -- he told himself but couldn’t do it.

“S-Sir Ragnvindr ...” your voice was shaky. He set you down and took several steps back, bowing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone even, professional.

“Mmhm,” he glanced at you. His jaw clenched at the sight of your discomfort. You wouldn’t make eye contact with him, began to wring your hands like you did when you were uneasy. He wondered if his teeth would break by how hard he bit down. Without saying anything, Diluc grabbed the reigns of your horse and brought it over to his. “Um, that ride made me hungry,” you began so he looked back to you, “those trees provide good shade, if you’d like to eat with me? I brought enough for the both of us.”

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, grabbing the pack off his horse and brining it to the place you pointed to. You quickly laid out the blanket, taking up space near the tree. He was glad you did, it would be much harder for anything to attack you with it at your back. Diluc offered the basket to you which you took and began to put several items on a plate. Soon, you offered one to him.

“I tried to bring things you’d like,” Diluc looked at the plate. He wasn’t planning on eating anything but when he saw several of his favorite items, he changed his mind.

“I thought you didn’t remember things about me?” He teased, a rare occurrence.

You pursed your lips into a pout before answering, “I can remember some things.”

“I see.” He popped one of the finger foods into his mouth. The taste wasn’t exactly the way he imagined but it was still good. “Thank you for requesting these, Princess.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you replied, making your own plate. “but - um - I made them. So, if they aren’t very good you don’t have to eat them.”

Diluc looked at you with awe, “you made these?” you nodded, “when did you find the time?”

Shrugging, you took a bite of your own food. “I had a spare moment. Though it was hard to keep it a surprise when you’re always around.” You stole a peek at him, “Are they good?”

Diluc felt his lips curl into a smile as he looked at the food on his plate. Now that he gave them a careful eye, he could see they were done by novice hands, “Very,” he told you and ate another.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the picnic in quiet peace. Diluc leaned back against another tree, let his body stretch out on the blanket while you maintained your trained posture. Legs bent to your side, back straight. The wind tussled your hair, making it difficult for you to review the paperwork you brought. Of course you’d still be working, even outside of the confines of the castle.

Soon, a soft hum drifted on the breeze. Peeking through half-closed eyes, he watched you sing to yourself. He’d seen you do it times before but, just as you did then, you stopped. “Sorry,” you appologized.

It was so comfortable, so relaxed that he couldn’t help but close his eyes. The horses were close by that if they sensed anything he could hear their agitation. The woods had been cleared prior to this excursion anyway, he made sure of that - perhaps that’s when you found the time to make him lunch.

Funny, while he was scouting thinking of you, you were thinking of him. The thought made his chest tight.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s not proper.”

Who told you that? He wondered. “I’m the only one here.”

“Somehow that doesn’t help,” you chuckled and he swore your cheeks changed color but maybe that was the light passing through the shifting leaves above, “um, do you have any requests?”

You’d never asked him before. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your favorite one then?”

“Okay.” The world grew quiet. As if it were settling to listen to your song. When you began he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head like a pillow, eyes closing again.

Take me And I will fix you for the night Hold those breaking lights Dreaming past those eyes

feel me breathe me to the sky ...

The song was gentle, sad. He’d never heard it before so he paid careful attention to the words.

So scream Your voice it can't be heard To no one else but you So sing as loud as rain And run until you break

Diluc’s brow furrowed at the sound of your trembling voice, at the motion of your hand as it brushed over your eyes. You tried to keep it in but didn't make it. Your hands covered your face as you cried; cried in the wind, cried under the sunshine sky, cried in front of the man who realized, in this moment, he never wanted to see you this way.

And yes Just for now Just for these small hours You can fall beneath the ground You can break...

...without the pain

You cried, bent over in the shade of the tree and all Diluc could do was watch and wonder why.

A few days later he learned the truth. Your brother had convinced the king to accept a proposal for your hand without consulting you. Somehow this was still endorsed, still expected. You were forced to accept it but Diluc couldn’t.

He rushed through the halls practically burning the tapestries that lined them. He didn’t even wait to knock on the door to your inner chamber, he just opened it, freezing when he found you sitting on the couch as if this were any other day.

It wasn’t any other day to him.

He wanted to fight, wanted to yell, wanted to free you from your station. He swore to protect you, to shield you. So how could he let this happen? Diluc was in turmoil - every inch of him was struggling; strangled by the expectations of his duty and his devoted heart.

When you heard him enter, you looked up from the paperwork on the coffee table, eyes puffy, swollen - how much had you cried today?

“I wasn’t expecting you, Sir Ragnvindr,” you explained, but the tightness in your throat told him you were suffering. How terrible was this suitor? What archaic laws shackled you to him and not ...

Diluc made his way toward you.

“I’m sorry but I’d like some time a-alone,” your voice cracked. He didn’t listen. With ease, he knelt on one knee before you. His eyes searched your face until your red-tinted eyes landed on him. “P-please,” you tried to smile, tried to pretend but he was okay if you didn't. He rested his arm on his knee and touched your fingers. Biting your lip, you looked at him and shook your head. Your breathing became unsteady, tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m alright,” you lied. With every tear-drop you lied. A quite sob escaped your throat so you covered your face with your hands and said the one thing you shouldn’t have, “Diluc --”

Diluc, going against everything he was taught, everything he swore to uphold, to commit to, opened himself and took you against him. His arms wrapped delicately around you, his hand found the back of your head, fingers weaving in between the strands of your perfectly brushed hair.

“I’ll fix it,” he vowed, knowing he couldn’t.

The following weeks dragged by. Preparations for your engagement were planned. Even though you were in the room when the decisions were made, you gave no opinion on them. Not the flowers, not the dress, not the food which you had little interest in lately. It seemed all you could do was devote yourself to your work and nothing else.

Diluc lay awake at night thinking about how to solve this problem. What could he do to break off the engagement. Surely he could take drastic actions - what was a life of imprisonment if you could be free? His step-brother told him to be patient, be rational, but his heart refused to let him. He was spiraling, and jealousy was right in the middle of it all.

Agitated, he lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the door that led to your chambers. On the other side you were sleeping, safe, untouched by anyone. He pressed his forehead against the harsh wood, gripped the doorknob with so much strength he worried it would bend to his will. He wanted to see you, wanted to hold you - to keep you - but you weren’t his. Would never be his.

Shaking, he pried himself away, threw on a shirt, and made his way down the hall to cool off.

On the other side of the door, you sat with your knees to your chest, head resting against the wood with eyes flooded in tears as you silently cried in the color of the rising sun.

The day of your suitor arrival had finally come. You did your best to smile, to hold yourself high. You’d practice these skills for so many years but Diluc could tell you were struggling. As you rose from your chair to greet the man who’d soon be your husband, Diluc took a step closer to you hoping to ease your anxiety.

“Your majesty,” he bowed, low and proper. His smile was unsettling, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on you and the flash of excitement Diluc saw in them made him drive his claymore deeper into the ground. “Ah, and my beautiful fiancé,” he took several steps toward you so you extended your hand as far as it could go to create space. Diluc was enraged at how familiar he was; grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it. Rubbing your arm without a care. The man flashed his eyes to Diluc but Diluc didn’t turn away.

“Welcome to the Royal Capital, Prince Calmin Velena. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Please do take --”

“I am eager to hear of the wedding plans and celebrations, your majesty,” the man interrupted you, his hand still holding yours as he pulled you toward him and the king. Diluc had to restrain himself from cutting that hand off. “Am I to be boarded next to my sweet Princess? I do wish to spend as much time with her as possible,” he glanced back at you and, instinctually, you tried to retreat toward Diluc.

“Prince Calmin, do understand that while you are in our kingdom, there are certain, etiquettes, that must be followed. You will have your own room in our guest quarters. They are lavishly furnished as you will find.” The King gestured to an attendant who appeared suddenly before the group. With a scoff, the prince released you allowing you to go back to your original spot. Diluc watched how your hand shook as you hid it behind your back.

You can’t protect her if you kill a prince, he reminded himself.

“Yes of course, then I will retire for now. Until then,” he turned and blew you a kiss before following the attendant out of the grand hall. At which time you collapsed into your chair.

“Daughter --” The King rose from his seat, moving toward you but before he could continue, your brother got in the way.

“Father, don’t mind her, we have much to discuss.” The King looked at you and you shot him a desperate look. A pleading, ‘please’ to which he closed his eyes and followed after your brothers persistent pushing.

When they left, you tried to stand but found your legs unsteady. Diluc noticed, offering you his hand, never taking it away.

“I feel unwell,” you whispered while other attendants moved about the room.

“Let’s away for now,” with ease, he pulled his cape around you, blocking you from the eyes of the would-be onlookers. You tucked yourself under his arm, brushing against his hips every once in a while.

Would this be all he ever had? Fleeting, accidental touches while that rat had the rest of you. The thought made his chest burn, blood boil.

Diluc looked at you, vowing to ensure nothing but his presence could get close.

Every interaction he saw the two of you have made him furious. Prince Calmin was disrespectful to you. He flirted with others in front of you, talked down to you as if you were nothing, second guessed your decisions and even tried to take over your duties. The amount of times you had to quell the fires of the ambassadors because of his stupidity -- it was giving Diluc a headache.

Complaints were passed to the King but your brother always managed to stop them. Somewhere in the back of Diluc’s mind he suspected foul-play. Why was this man being pushed so hard when - even if he hated to admit it - there were other, better suitors out there. Just what was your brother playing at?

Diluc did his best to investigate, asked his most trusted to assist him when he couldn’t. The day’s to your wedding were drawing closer so he didn’t dare leave your side. Not while that snake continued to slither his way into places he wasn’t wanted.

Several nights before the wedding, Diluc heard your voice on the other side of the shared door. You sounded upset. When he went to investigate, he found Prince Calmin pushing his way inside your room. It took all of his strength not to break every bone in his body but - luckily - the prince backed down, running away as fast as he could, and you were able to quell the rage in him by reassuring him you weren't hurt.

Even still, Diluc spent the rest of that night in front of your door.

What nightmares would await him in the next few days. What nightmares would befall you that he couldn’t stop. He needed a solution, fast.

The day before the wedding came, and while others were celebrating in high spirits, you did your best to keep your mask up. Even though you smiled and acted pleasant, people were noticing that you didn’t stand in the middle of the room like brides often do, didn’t raise your glass to the toasts wishing you well, didn’t react when your fiancé touched you.

You were like a statue. A commodity. And your faithful knight was forced to watch.

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke his concentration. His brother, Kaeya, had slipped into the festivities without an invitation, as customary.

Diluc stood with his arms crossed in the dark shadows of the grand hall. Eyes locked on your ‘would be husband’ - searching for the slightest movement that would allow him to end his life.

If he hurt you, would the king pardon the knight sworn to protect the princess? He clenched his jaw.

“Did you find anything?” Diluc asked, desperate. Kaeya could sense it too and let out a sigh.

“Just tell her you love her.”

“Kaeya -”

“Perhaps a kings heart can be swayed by the profession of true lov-”

“Did you find anything?” Diluc barked, causing Kaeya to throw his hands up.

“Alright, here,�� Kaeya offered a roll of papers to Diluc who snatched them faster than lightning. “You’re senses are always spot on ya know - well, except for where it counts.”

Diluc read the papers over and over again. When he was done, he looked at Kaeya.

“I’m good, what can I say?” Kaeya shrugged but Diluc was already gone, “I’ll take my thank you in a bottle of wine. Do you hear me??” Kaeya shouted, throwing his hands in the air when he got no reply.

Diluc’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd. Nothing was set in stone yet, this was it. The chance to save the love of his life.

“My king!” He shouted over the crowd, through the music bouncing around the room. He picked up the pace, running. “King!”

The royal family and its intruder looked toward him. You sat up in your chair - the first sign of life you’d had all evening. The crown on your head slipped but you didn’t fix it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Your brother stood, the scraping of his chair putting a stall on the noise in the chamber. “How dare you interrupt us!”

“I apologize king,” Diluc knelt, bowed his head and lifted himself up again before extending the rolled up parchment toward the King. “I will take whatever punishment you decide fitting for my interruption, but first, read this.” Diluc held out the documents but when the Prince tried to snatch them away, Diluc grabbed his wrist and shoved him back.

“Sir Ragnvindr!” The King stood and the knights in his charge moved out from the shadows.

“Wait!” You shouted while your brother tried to scramble for the document. Unfortunately, you had a hard time getting any closer as your fiancé yanked you back toward him.

The parties’ attention turned to the commotion at the royal table. Diluc held his ground even as the threat of drawn weapons drew closer. “I have entrusted you with the safety of my daughter and yet you slander this celebration?”

“Her safety is my highest priority which is why you must read this!” The prince grabbed the documents before the King could and Diluc felt his heart drop in his chest.

“What rubbish. Have I not tried to warn you father, this knight has means to harm my precious sister. He must be dealt with -- away with him!” Diluc refrained from drawing his sword, if he did he would look even more like the enemy.

“Your majesty, please,” Diluc bowed to hide the fear in his eyes but also show he meant no harm. Please -- please hear him -- Hands touched Diluc’s shoulders and began to pull him back. He could hear your shouts and the quieting demands of your soon to be husband.

I failed

“Is this true?”

“Be still.” The King demanded and the room stilled. Diluc’s head shot up, his heart flipping as the king reached for the parchment. The prince did his best to plead, to explain that it was nothing but when the King didn't back down, he reluctantly handed it over. Diluc’s heart pounded, he felt his hands burn as he looked on only to find you still bound by the hands of that man.

Read faster, be begged.

“Yes, Majesty,” Diluc confirmed. “Take notice of the seal on the last page.” The King flipped to the last page, grimacing at what he saw. When he snapped his head to Prince Calmin the fear in the man’s eyes was clear.

“Unhand my daughter. Seize him!”

“W-What?” the prince stuttered, backing up with you in his grip.

Your brother reached for the king's arm but was shoved off. “Father what are you doing!?”

“Be silent, child.” The King moved toward Prince Calmin who grabbed a knife hidden in his clothes and held it out, while his other hand held tightly onto your hair.

“Back away! G-Got it?? I-I was promised -- you promised me!” Calmin screamed at the prince who was cowering in his chair. The commotion grew as the kings guard closed in but all Diluc saw was the fear in your eyes, and how your trembling hand extend to him.

“Let her go,” Diluc reached for the table and tossed it out of the way. The thick wood and metal bindings kept it in place as it slid down the steps narrowly avoiding several patrons as it went. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about anyone, he only cared about - “I won’t say it again.”

Diluc’s claymore appeared in his hand, ablaze. The Prince forcefully moved you in between him and the fire but Diluc knew enough about his vision to control every microscopic flame.

“Get off her!” In an instant, the room was filled with a flash of light. You covered your face as blue and green flames whipped past you, smacking directly into your captor. He screamed, releasing you, shoving you. As you stumbled forward Diluc caught you so you wouldn't fall.

“What have you done?! You’ll pa-pay for this ---” Calmin screamed, toppling over in pain as flames clung to his skin. Diluc held you against him so you couldn’t see and hoped the sound of his cries wouldn’t linger in your memory forever.

The king's guard shackled and carried Calmin away. They hauled off the prince as well, who in a state of bumbling cries revealed he had plotted against the kingdom for riches, and a power greater than visions. As long as he got the princess to marry this 'prince'. It was through this plot the king learned of an uprising to the east, spurred on the by hands of the northern archon. If they had been successful, the kingdoms resources would have been wiped out.

You slid your arms around Diluc, unwilling to let go and placed his hand on your back. he’d thank Kaeya profusely for saving more than he could ever imagine.

As the party goers were escorted out of the hall, and the energy in the room died down, Diluc stewarded you to the balcony for air.

“You’re shaking,” he commented, removing his cape and draping it over your shoulders.

“How could he do this ...” you mumbled, “my own brother.”

“But, y-you saved me --”

“Power and corruption are one of many slivers of the darkness that plagues this world. I never wished for you to be exposed to them.” Diluc rubbed your arms, called on his vision to warm you as best as he could. He might have saved you from a sham of a marriage but he failed everywhere else. “I am beside myself for what has happened to you,” he lifted your chin, looked at you but wished he could do more.

This proposal was one of many you'd get. How was he going to survive the next one?

“Did I?”

You began to speak but the sound of footsteps interrupted you. Diluc took several steps back and bowed.

“My daughter, how are you?”

“I’m alright,” you extended your hand toward the King and he pulled you close. Diluc kept his gaze to the ground.

“You are unharmed?”

“Yes,” the King breathed a sigh of relief. He took note of the color wrapped around you, turning his attention to the knight at your side.

“And you, Sir Ragnvindr?”

“I am fine, King,” he bowed again, missing the expression you sent to him.

“Good. Then, if you can spare us a moment I’d like to converse with my daughter in private.”

“Of course,” Diluc excused himself through the balcony door but made sure to keep you in his line of sight.

For several days after, Diluc couldn’t get close to you. He was frustrated, annoyed that his duties kept pulling him away. He rarely fought assignments, but this constant distance was making him insubordinate.

Finally, he was allowed to return to the castle but no matter where he looked he couldn’t find you. Every room he searched was empty, even your chambers had looked unused for days. The pain in his chest began to burn his throat.

Where were you - what happened to you - why couldn’t he find you

A figure moved in his peripherals, he spun toward it --

“Ah, there you are.” The Kings voice shattered his focus. Within seconds, Diluc was kneeling. “Oh, well. Always do dutiful. Please rise, my boy,” the King chuckled and Diluc did as told.

“Your majesty. How can I be of service?”

The King made his way to Diluc who’s head had stayed lowered since the King called on him. There was an uncomfortable silence blanketing the scene, he did his best not to fidget.

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” hearing his full name, Diluc lifted his eyes but kept his head lowered, “You have sworn to protect my eldest daughter, is that true?”

“Y-Yes your majesty.”

“Does that also include her heart?”

Diluc was hesitant, but he straightened to his full height, coming into direct eye contact with the King. “Sir?”

“I have watched you care for her, help her, protect her, and though there are suitors who do the same there are none whom she looks at the way she does you.”

Diluc could hardly breathe.

“Would you protect my daughters heart the same way you have protected her life?”

“Yes.” Diluc spoke with conviction. Unsure if what he was vowing too was the one thing his heart yearned for. As stupid he was to believe it, he let himself.

“Then,” the King took Diluc’s hand in his, one resting on the top and the other cupping the bottom, “You have my blessing. Though I should hardly have the authority to give it.”

“... I ...”

“Go. She’s waiting on the balcony.”

Diluc looked toward the doorway. He swallowed, swore his heart was going to break out of his chest and kill him. He loved you. He wasn’t supposed to - told himself he wouldn’t and yet

he loved you

“E-Excuse me,” Diluc bowed, slipped free of the Kings embrace and moved toward the one thing he had wanted but was never allowed.

There you were, standing with your hands on the marble railing. Your back too him, hair fluttering in the wind. The gown you wore was beautiful. Long trains of white with thick red fabric billowing out behind you.

Diluc called out your name and, slowly, you turned toward him. He didn’t move, you didn’t move.

“Did you see the king?” You asked and when he nodded you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks. Diluc walked toward you as if he were in a dream. “What’s your decision? Could you ever love the princess you swore fealty to--”

Suddenly, he moved faster than he ever had. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you. He’d never known such a feeling as your lips. Never thought warm tears would feel so invigorating against his hands.

He had you

He finally had you

“Marry me,” he professed above your lips.

“Tomorrow?” You teased but he didn’t protest. If he were allowed, he’d marry you this instant if it meant you could spend one second more as his wife.

Laughing, with love rushing through his veins, he hoisted you into the air and let you fall against him as you cupped his face and kissed him in the mid-day sun.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do,” he said in between kisses, “I will follow you. I am yours --”

“And you are mine,” you vowed.

@sarahslolitaportfolio (these are gonna be long soooo i’m making it a series lol)

#hazels works #genshin impact #genshin impact x fm reader #x fm reader #x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x female reader #diluc x fem!reader #genshin diluc x fem!reader

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