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tiredmamaissy · 8 months

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync?

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——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal.

Something animalistic.

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed.

Nights like tonight.

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight.

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it.

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?”

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently.

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him.

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around?

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all.

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face.

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you.

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.”

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago.

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice.

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out.

What? Is he — lying to you?

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips.

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.”

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease.

But the funny thing is that there was no lie.

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’.

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret.

His upcoming rut.

——

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different.

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator.

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming.

Too aggressive.

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy.

But you’re more than that to him.

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door.

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time.

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot.

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together.

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him.

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno.

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed.

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice.

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame.

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?”

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani.

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes.

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.”

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry.

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers.

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things.

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you.

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.”

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that.

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up.

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position.

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in.

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception.

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock.

Truth be told, he hated the feeling.

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth.

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle.

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now?

Once? Twice? Thrice?

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum.

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock.

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh.

Relief.

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall.

All until he hears the click of a —

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.”

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it.

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles.

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away.

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention.

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct.

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!”

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull.

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.”

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore.

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered.

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath.

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches.

What is he supposed to do now?

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking.

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt.

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good, I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t.

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release.

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.”

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat.

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do.

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you.

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even.

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word.

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]”

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only.

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility.

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving.

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.”

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—”

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say.

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive.

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it.

“Ralak.”

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed.

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo.

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock.

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual.

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position.

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now?

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt.

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door.

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air.

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal.

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue.

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges.

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again.

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next.

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin.

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak.

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent.

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it.

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail.

Fuck, you just want it inside you already.

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you.

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place.

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you.

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed.

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you.

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts.

He’s simply not there.

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance.

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure.

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you.

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!”

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide.

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity.

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks.

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee.

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief.

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it.

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child.

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him.

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!”

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you.

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck.

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers.

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up.

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts.

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again.

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip.

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.”

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you.

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it.

He’s bulging inside you.

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck.

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate.

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours.

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls.

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb.

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent.

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb.

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer.

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead.

——

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eamour · 2 months

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mental over physical.

in my post called "feeling over desire", i have already talked about the importance of fulfillment from within rather than without. i went as far to tell you that when you desire something, it can only ever be fulfilled in imagination and not in your physical reality. today, i'll tell you why exactly that’s the case with the explanation of "states".

key points

key points from former post

you are desiring to feel (inner self), not to actually have (outer self). therefore, you seek fulfillment from within.

by wanting things physically only and refusing to feel good about already having them in imagination, you are conditioning your desires.

what you can’t experience within, you can’t experience without. that way, you are making yourself reliant on outer change.

it’s impossible to give you something you desire internally, externally. it won’t and cannot satisfy you.

your aim isn’t the confirmation of the outer world. it’s the confirmation of imagination and experiencing your desire‘s existence there.

determination of the physical.

first of all, states are crucial. a state determines your thoughts — along with your behaviour, perception, experience and reactions to the physical world — as they come from your feeling aka the state that you are currently occupying. this is important for you to understand because depending on which state you are identifying with, you will reflect it into your material world. conversely, that means that you can never express a state you are not already embodying mentally.

an unfulfilling state.

now, if you aren’t already occupying the state or embodying the version of yourself who has your desire, receiving it in the physical world will not and cannot satisfy you. if you are in an oppositional state, yet manage to obtain results physically, it won't be able to fulfill you. you need to get into the state of your wish being fulfilled FIRST and experience it in imagination BEFORE you can get it in the 3D. that’s also the way you normally go about manifesting things.

experience of a state.

it’s because you aren’t experiencing the outer world, you are experiencing your state. you can only ever experience your state. the outer world is just a conformation of the state you currently happen to be in. although the 3D is a depiction of your imagination, your state or who you are in imagination still determines how your outer world is going to look like.

inner feeling of desire.

again, to desire means to occupy a state, a desired state. when you desire, it’s coming from within, not from without. only your inner self can desire. because after all, your desire is just a feeling — a feeling only your inner self can feel. your outer self, on the other hand, can only give you physical insight on your inner self. and inner feelings can only be fulfilled with feelings from within.

my example.

i remember i was in a relationship once which was very perfect to begin with. however, somehow, i would find myself in a state where i would feel unloved, as if i'm being lied to or just generally doubt my partner’s adoration and affection for me. the more i felt that way and the more i persisted in it, i managed to pull them away — even though everything was seemingly perfect on the outside, it didn’t really feel as perfect on the inside.

see, your physical manifestation can be as desirable as possible but if you happen to be in a contrary state, you won’t be able to keep the physical, nor be content with it.

with affection and adoration, ella.

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transmascissues · 5 months

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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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waaterdeep · 6 months

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It’s heartbreaking to me how easily Gale abandons his plans of becoming a god when you romance him, because it shows that he never actually wanted to become a god in the first place.

When you ask him how he’s feeling after discovering the crown of Karsus he tells you that he’s excited about what the crown could do to improve both of your lives. His plans aren’t clear but it’s obvious that he wants to use it for himself. Of course there’s some selfishness there, perhaps a desire to get back at Mystra, but there’s a good part of him that sees this as a way to impress you, to become worthy of you.

But to convince him to let go of the crown in Act 3 you simply need to tell him that he matters, that you love him for the man that he is not the god he wants to be. You need to convince him that he’s always been enough and that he always will be, so long as he stays true to who he is. And with high approval he accepts this without question. While he feels uncertain about putting all of his faith into one person, he’s still relieved and happy to do so.

You have opportunities before the Outer Planes scene to tell him that you care about him, most notably in Act 2, when you can tell him that you want to spend the night with Gale the man, that you don’t need him to wow you with cosmic sex. While this clearly means a lot to him it doesn’t translate as “I am exactly all that this person needs” in his mind yet.

But when you have the Outer Planes scene and he tells you of his plans, if you gently bring him back down to earth, kiss him and tell him he’s perfect, he’s wholly convinced. While Tara might have told him many times some variation of this, you are the first person, and most importantly the first lover, to tell him and show him. The fact that you met him with diminished powers and the Netherese orb and still fell in love with him speaks volumes.

It shows that his ambitions are not born from hubris, rather, from a profound insecurity that could only be the product of his defining of his life, his value, in relation to the literal goddess of magic and, obviously, falling short. Conjuring visions of Waterdeep and the Outer Planes, it’s all his way to convince you that he’s worthy of your affections, you who in most cases cannot do that at all. But he bases his worth completely upon his magical abilities, it’s no surprise then that magnifying them to infinite proportions is his way to remove his fear of losing you, since his greatest weakness, his humanity, is what drove his previous lover away from him.

And that’s absolutely heartbreaking.

#I have a lot of thoughts about gale #feel free to add on to this I’d love to hear your thoughts #anyways I love him a normal amount thanks for coming to my ted talk #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #my thoughts

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andvys · 7 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 12

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, weed, mentions of other drugs, mentions of depression, slut shaming, attempted sexual assault, (reader being kissed, groped and being held forcefully), (she leaves before more can happen) if that makes you feel uncomfortable, you can stop reading this chapter after the moment with Eddie at his trailer!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader (platonic)

Summary: You try to give dating a second chance and quickly come to regret it when you say yes to the wrong boy.

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: shoutout to my bestie @mysticmunson who always always helps me with the best ideas 🤍

series masterlist

You feel like time is moving faster than usual. One moment it was the new year and now it’s already the end of march and every day pushes you closer and closer to the last day of high school. You can’t believe that it’s almost over.

You can’t believe how much has changed in the past six months.

Had someone told you that you would be graduating without him, a year back, you wouldn’t have believed them. It’s always been you and Steve. No matter how awful he was to you, how badly he treated you, it’s always been you two together.

You wanted to graduate with him, you wanted to go to college with him or even take a gap year and travel through the country with him – that was the plan.

But you will graduate without him and you will go to college without him and you will travel without him – he won’t be by your side, he won’t ever be by your side again and you have come to terms with it. You are okay with it, now.

“Hello?” Robin mumbles, waving her hand in front of your face.

Blinking, you quirk your brow and look at your friend.

“Huh?”

Robin chuckles at the confused look on your face, she sips on her coffee and scoots closer to you on the bench, reaching for a brownie in the brown paper bag between you two.

“What’s on your mind?”

You take a sip of your coffee and avoid looking into her eyes. You’re not about to tell her that you are thinking about your ex boyfriend.

She chews on her brownie and squints her eyes as she stares at you.

“Just that I’m going to graduate soon,” you chuckle and look at the lake in front of you. You and Robin decided to spend the afternoon by the lake after getting your favorite treats from the cafe downtown.

The sun is shining down on you, making your skin feel warm. The water is glistening and you cannot wait to jump into the lake when the weather gets even warmer.

“Yeah, it’s unfair how you and I just became friends and now you’re already leaving!”

You chuckle and nod at her words.

“You should have become friends with Eddie a long time ago!” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, playfully.

A smile tugs at your lips, “I agree.”

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”

“You think?” You ask.

She nods, her eyes widen, “yeah, I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re super nice and chill but cheerleaders make me nervous and there’s no way I would have ever approached you!”

And that is why she hasn't hung out with you and your friends yet. Despite you telling her how nice they are, she is still too nervous to get to know them properly.

You can’t help but smirk at her, “why exactly do they make you feel nervous, Robin?”

She narrows her eyes, glaring at you, which makes you laugh.

You know that she is into girls, it’s something she has been worried about telling you, too afraid of your reaction. It also didn’t help that you had only known each other for a little while, she didn’t trust you at first but the more she got to know you, the more she realized that you aren’t like the other popular kids at school. You aren’t judgmental or rude or a bully – far from it. When she saw you standing up for Eddie in front of the whole cheer squad and the basketball team, she knew that you are a real friend, you risked your ‘queen’ status and your place in the popular crowd but you didn’t care.

She didn’t plan on telling you, she blurted it out after having one too many drinks and when she was sober again, she was afraid of your reaction, all the what if’s ran through her mind – what if you will hate her? What if you will out her to the whole school? What if you will laugh and make her the laughing stock of the town? What if you will be disgusted by her?

She was overthinking. You didn’t give her much of a reaction, in fact, you were chill as always and treated the subject of her sexuality like it was the most normal thing in the world when it definitely isn’t the most normal thing for other people. You went out for breakfast that day and you had asked her who the ‘lucky girl’ is when you found out about her crush, that’s all.

And since then, you have only gotten closer and closer.

She blushes at your question, there are two reasons why cheerleaders make her nervous – 1. They are popular and a little mean and 2. They are hot.

“You know why,” she mumbles and takes a sip of coffee again.

You giggle, “yeah, yeah. I get it, cheerleaders are hot.”

“Eddie thinks so too,” she smirks.

Now it’s your turn to glare at her, “shut up.”

“Oh come on! You tease me, I tease you back! That’s how friendships work, right?”

“Yes,” you say, “but there’s nothing to tease me about.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, crossing her leg over the other, she leans back and looks up at the blue sky.

“I saw you two together, lying beneath the starry sky and running around like two teenagers in love,” she says, dreamily.

You know that she is talking about the bonfire last weekend.

Shaking your head, you chuckle at her words and roll your eyes.

“We’re just friends.”

“Friends who slap each other’s butts?”

“Exactly.”

She looks down and faces you again, studying your face with a curious look in her eyes. She purses her lips and tilts her head.

“Okay, seriously though, are you just friends or is there more between you two?” She asks, genuinely. Robin watches the way your brows furrow and the way confusion flashes in your eyes. For a split second, you look lost.

You hesitate.

“Yeah, just friends.”

She waits for you to continue, she can tell that you want to say more.

“But, it’s like, he’s a special friend, you know?”

Her eyes widen when she sees the flustered look on your face, she slaps your shoulder, “friends with benefits?” She gasps, loudly.

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as well, “no!” You almost scream, slapping her shoulder back, “you perv! Why is your mind going there?”

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Robin laughs, pushing your hand away. “You two are pretty touchy though so can you even blame me for asking that?”

No. No, you can’t blame her.

Robin has walked in on you cuddling with Eddie way too many times. He casually takes your hand and intertwines your fingers together. He kisses your forehead, your temple, your cheeks, your hands. He picks you up and drives you home. You sleep in each other’s beds and go on ‘friends’ dates. But, you are friends.

“I get what you mean,” you mumble. You know what your friendship with Eddie looks like to other people. Your mom thinks you’re dating and so does Steve’s mom and the rest of the town as it seems. “Eddie is very special to me and I love him but differently, not the way I loved him.” You shrug, looking down at your hands. You touch the rings that he gave you. “Things with Eddie just feel natural and good and I feel so safe with him, you know? I-I feel like he was a missing piece in my life because when he walked in, everything just felt better and it’s nice to know that he doesn’t expect anything from me, that what we have now, is enough.”

Robin’s eyes soften.

“We can just be together, you know?”

She smiles at your words.

“And us being so touchy is just,” you pause, looking for the right word. “Fun? I think we both craved the intimacy and the touch of another person. I never got it from Steve.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he always pushed me away. He hated cuddling, he never held me, he hated holding my hand. His kisses were rough and he always pushed me away after we had.. sex.”

She frowns. She isn’t surprised to hear about how awful he was to you but it upsets her, you deserve better.

“What a jerk.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I was pretty messed up when he dumped me, I felt miserable and I was so fucking depressed. I shouldn’t have been, he treated me like shit but I still loved him and I still wanted him and if he came back right away, I would’ve definitely taken him back,” you snort, feeling embarrassed to admit that. “But Eddie came into my life and he was just there, he showed me that I didn’t need him. He showed me that friendships and finding other things that make you happy can be enough.”

Robin can tell that there is more behind your words. Nothing will ever replace the hole that someone you loved so much had left in your heart.

“Eddie makes me happy and I just love what we have. He is not like my other friends but he is not like a boyfriend either. I-I can’t explain it.”

Robin sighs but she smiles at you, “maybe you’re soulmates – platonic soulmates!”

You raise your brows and laugh.

“I’m sorry if you don’t believe in that stuff but I’m a total believer when it comes to soulmates and twin flames and whatnot.”

“Me too, Robin.”

“Cool,” she grins.

“Yeah, cool.” You laugh, wiggling your brows, “now we gotta find your platonic soulmate.”

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes, “they probably don’t exist.”

“Oh, I’m sure they exist,” you say, “I’m sure they’re around here. Maybe both of them are! Your platonic and romantic soulmate.” You smile.

“I don’t believe that,” she says, blushing.

“But I do. I got a sneaky feeling that you might find them both soon,” you say, not knowing that there is the actual truth behind your words.

You look at the lake in front of you, your mind tries to take you back to all your moments here with him but you force yourself to think of something else, someone else, anything that will stop you from thinking about him.

“Hey,” you nudge her shoulder, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

You hesitate again, not knowing whether it’s worth bringing it up or not.

“So uh, last weekend, at the bonfire, this guy asked me out on a date. He called me earlier today and asked if I wanna go out with him tomorrow night but I said that I’m not sure, he sounded disappointed and told me to think about it and that he will wait for my call and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “he used to go to our school, his name is Ray.”

“Okay,” she says, slowly, “why are you not sure?”

You shrug, “I don’t know if I wanna go out with him.”

She wants to ask who you really want to go out with but she doesn’t.

“You’re not into him?” Robin asks, her blue eyes are filled with curiosity.

“I mean, he’s hot but I don’t really wanna date anyone right now and I don’t want to have sex.”

Robin scrunches her face up, looking a little confused.

“You don’t have to have sex with him and you don’t have to date him.”

“Yeah but they always want sex,” you mumble.

Disgust flashes in her eyes and she shudders, “do they?”

“Yeah, same with Steve.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean we have known each other our whole lives so maybe it’s not that serious when it comes to him but we had sex on our first date,” you pause, rolling your eyes, “and every girl I talk to tells me that every guy expects to get laid on a first date so..”

“Gross,” she says, sipping on her coffee.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. A date can be fun, you can just get to know each other and see if you hit it off, you can laugh together and flirt, do something fun that doesn’t involve kissing or fucking! And a person who is looking for a partner or even just for a companion, won’t want to fuck on a first date,” she says without thinking about her words.

You don’t know why her words hurt, you don’t hang onto him anymore but to think that he never wanted to date you, that he only wanted to fuck you cuts you deep. Was that all you were good for, sex? Is that why he kept you around, so he could fuck you and take his frustrations out on you? Is that why it was so easy for him to dump you? When he found out that he could have both love & sex, he realized that you were no longer useful to him?

And it’s not just Steve who made you feel that way, there’s plenty of guys who have tried to get in your pants, before, during and after your relationship with him. Billy Hargrove has to be the worst of them all.

Her words lingered for the rest of the day, you know that she didn’t mean any harm but it brought back questions that you have always avoided to think about when you were still with him.

She didn’t notice the sad look in your eyes, too busy trying to convince you to go on a date and have some ‘innocent fun’. You agreed with her, maybe it’s what you really need, some innocent fun.

You went home after dropping her off, you cleaned your room and you took a long shower, contemplating whether to call or not call him. You tried reading a book but you kept looking at the telephone.

A part of you wanted to go on that date, the other part was just curious to see how it would all play out.

In the end, you called him and said yes to the date, he seemed excited and that put a smile on your face but you couldn’t help but feel the hesitation of going out with a guy you are not even that interested in. You had a weird feeling in your chest and in your stomach.

Something felt off, something felt wrong, very wrong.

But you were never good at listening to your gut.

You were good at overthinking though and your mind kept taking you back to him and you couldn’t stand it, you needed a distraction. That’s how you ended up here, on Eddie’s bed with a joint between your lips and a lazy smile on your face.

The room smells like weed, the cinnamon candle that you have put on his desk and him. The faint sound of some rock song fills the silence, surprisingly he keeps his music on the low today. Eddie is sitting on his chair, writing something in his notebook, something he won’t let you see. His brows are furrowed, lips tucked beneath his teeth, he looks concentrated.

“What are you writing, Eddie?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your knees, offering him the joint. Instead of taking it from your fingers, he leans closer to you and parts his lips.

You chuckle and place it between his lips.

He looks into your eyes, amusement flashes in them when he notices you biting your lip. He takes a drag and closes his eyes for a moment as he inhales. You watch him and remove the joint. You lick your lips, pulling away from him to place the joint in the ashtray on his nightstand.

Your mind feels hazy, maybe a little too hazy but this is exactly what you wanted.

Eddie blows the smoke into the air and leans back again, he studies your face. Right now, you look calm and relaxed but you looked tense and worried when you got here, he wonders why.

“So?” You ask, still waiting for an answer.

He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes shift away from you, he glances down at his noteback before his eyes meet yours again, “it’s a secret, sweetheart,” he winks.

“Eddie,” you whine, rolling your eyes, “I thought we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

You know it’s nothing serious so you don’t get upset, you could never be upset with him.

“It’s not exactly a secret, just something I don’t want to show you yet,” he says, smiling.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well then, I can relax,” you giggle and lie back again.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. He looks back down at his notebook, holding his pen tighter. He looks at the words on the white paper, tilting his head. His eyes flicker back and forth, looking at you and at the unfinished text.

You hum along to the song playing in the background, tapping your fingers against the mattress. You look around his room, eyeing every item as though it’s your first time in here. Your eyes get stuck on the handcuffs adorning the wall. A curious look takes over your face. You have asked him about them before and you felt slightly disappointed when you found out that those aren’t from him being arrested and running away, these are just handcuffs he stole from the equipment at the theater room in school.

You reach for the joint and take a long drag, letting the smoke invade your lungs slowly. You sit up, still eying the handcuffs.

Eddie wonders what you are thinking about. He puts the notebook down, propping his elbow against the table as he watches you, curiously.

“You know what I always wondered?”

“What?” He asks.

“What it’s like to be a criminal,” you say, giggling.

He raises his brows in surprise, clearly not expecting this.

“I kinda wanna know what it’s like to get arrested forcefully, being thrown to the ground and getting handcuffed like in those action movies,” you say as you tilt your head, “I wouldn’t mind getting arrested by Jim Hopper, he’s so hot,” you giggle.

Eddie can’t help but laugh. You aren’t just joking about being cuffed, you are genuinely curious and he is amused by it. An idea crosses his mind and it doesn’t take him long to get into action, he gets up and walks over to the handcuffs, taking them off the wall, he looks at you with a smirk on his face.

“You wanna know what it’s like to be cuffed?” He asks as he holds them in front of your face.

You eye the mischievous look in his eyes, knowing that he has something on his mind, something that has got to do with him cuffing you and you can’t help but feel excitement rushing through you.

You nod eagerly and it only makes him chuckle even more.

“You wanna feel like a little criminal and have a cop running after you?” He asks as he bends down, leaning closer to you until his face is directly in front of yours.

You nod.

“Good cop or bad cop?”

“Bad cop,” you say, biting your lip.

He chuckles darkly, he eyes you up and down before he leans closer, he brushes your hair back, his breath hits the exposed skin on your shoulder, his fingertips linger on your skin, “well then, you better run, sweetheart,” he whispers.

He pulls back and your eyes lock with his again, he is serious about this, you can tell by the look on his face.

For a moment, you are both silent, both waiting for the other to move. The music is still playing but the room is more silent than ever. Suddenly, Eddie lunges at you and a squeal falls from your lips, you manage to dodge his hands and jump back before he gets ahold of you. You put distance between you and him, crawling back and getting up on the other side of the bed.

“Ma’am you are under arrest!” Eddie says with a deep voice and a mean look on his face.

You laugh, loudly but Eddie doesn’t look amused at all.

“Put your hands behind your back!”

“What am I under arrest for, officer?” You ask, blinking innocently.

Eddie frowns, he steps around the bed, trying to get closer to you.

“That’s chief Munson to you, little lady,” he glares at you, still talking in a deep voice, “and you’re under arrest for being a bad girl.”

You raise your hand towards your lips and laugh. He tries to look mean but his eyes are filled with amusement. He steps even closer but before he can get too close, you get back on the bed and crawl over to the other side. Eddie instantly follows you. Your heartbeat picks up and you slam open the door before you run out into the hallway.

“Hey!”

You squeal when you hear him running after you.

“Get back here, you little shit!” Eddie yells, snorting when he trips over Wayne’s slippers.

You run into the living room, stopping behind the table by the couch. You are a giggling mess and Eddie thinks it’s cute, he can’t help but smile as he tries to keep the frown on his face.

“Please chief, don’t arrest me!” You say with a fake whiney voice, “I’ll be a good girl.”

Eddie smirks, “that’s how you talk to the chief?”

“Yeah,” you say, wiggling your brows.

The handcuffs in his hands jingle as he flicks them back and forth, walking closer and closer to you which makes you step closer to the couch.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself, just stay where you are,” he orders, giving you a pointed look.

“Or what?”

He quirks a brow, grinning at you, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Aw, I’m so scared.”

Eddie runs forward and reaches his hand out to grab you but you are quicker than him, laughing loudly when you run away again, bolting back to his room but you don’t expect him to catch you so quickly. Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around your waist, he hooks his leg around yours, bringing you down but making sure that you hit the carpet softly, a surprised gasp escapes your lips, in just under ten seconds he has you pinned beneath his body, holding you against the ground.

You struggle against him but he is stronger than you, he presses your front against the floor and holds your hands behind your back, he straddles you from behind as he puts the cold metal around your wrists, cuffing you.

“Got ya,” he whispers in your ear, chuckling.

“Eddie!” You whine, still struggling against him as you try to fight him off.

You can’t see him but you know that he has a smug look on his face.

“Y/n!” He mocks you.

He keeps holding you down, laughing at the way you are struggling and wiggling around. He smirks in satisfaction, “I wish I could take a picture of this,” he jokes as he stares at you and at the way you look beneath him with the handcuffs around your wrists.

“You perv!” You laugh.

Your movements cause your skirt to ride up a little and you don’t notice that you accidentally put your panties on display.

Eddie smirks, ignoring the way his cheeks heat up and the way his stomach flutters.

“Cute polka dot undies, babe. I bet Harrington busted in his pants when he saw these,” he chuckles, staring at your ass.

You are too high out of your mind to be embarrassed about anything, right now. You finally stop wiggling around, you crane your neck to the side, trying to look at him, “I usually didn’t wear any when we were together.”

He laughs in surprise, “okay slut,” he jokes causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles. He tugs at the hem of your skirt, putting it back into place, he then looks away, clearing his throat, he gets up and adjusts his pants before he leans down, uncomfortably. Grabbing your waist, he picks you up, laughing at the way you squeal before he puts you back on your feet. He grabs the cuffs, “let’s get back in the cell, little criminal,” he whispers, pushing you through the hallway and back into his room.

You are still a giggling mess when he takes the cuffs off of you and puts them back on the wall. You plop down on the bed and lie down.

“Tell me, are you gonna wear these cute panties for Parker?” He teases you, narrowing his eyes to watch your reaction. Your eyes widen, you sit back up and straighten your back, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“W-What? How do you know?” You ask in confusion.

He chuckles, turning back to face you, he walks towards you, crouching down in front of you.

“Robin told me that you might want to go on a date with him, I kinda figured you would,” he shrugs.

Eddie hates the idea of you going out with him. Ray is a jock and from his experience, 99% of the jocks are complete assholes, disrespectful to girls and generally, awful human beings. You dated one before, you don’t need another one to hurt you but he isn’t about to tell you what to do or not do – he should have.

You blink, looking nervous all of the sudden, you look hesitant and that puts a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, taking your hands in his, trying to comfort you.

“I think I made a mistake,” you admit as all the happiness and amusement on your face vanishes, “I-I shouldn’t have said yes to the date.”

You look anxious and that makes him anxious too.

“I don’t think that I’m ready.”

His brown eyes soften, he grips your hands tighter. Eddie thinks that you will never be ready to date anyone else – Steve Harrington is the one and only for you. You may think that you have moved on but he knows that you haven’t, he can still see the love in your eyes when you look at him. You aren’t aware of it and neither is he.

Eddie clears his throat, trying to say something but you interrupt him. Pinching your nose, you shake your head.

“I-I don’t even want a boyfriend, right now – let alone another jock! I don’t want to fuck him either, what was I thinking?”

A part of him wants to encourage you to cancel the date, a huge part of him wants to do that, the part that is very protective of you but he doesn’t do it.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs as he sits down beside you, still holding your hand, “you don’t have to date him or fuck him. And a part of you must’ve wanted to go on that date, otherwise you wouldn’t have said yes, right?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

The truth is, you want to know what it’s like to go out with someone who wants you.

“I’m sure Robin told you that already but you can just go out and have fun, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If the date goes well then great but if he turns out to be an asshole then you can just give him the mean right hook you gave Billy and then you’ll call me, I’ll pick you up and kick his ass and then we’re gonna go to family video, rent some movies and binge on our favorite snacks.”

And just like that, the smile on your face returns and Eddie’s eyes light up.

“The campaign is tomorrow,” you point out.

He shrugs, “for you, I’ll cancel any campaign,” he winks and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

You smile and snuggle closer to him, “you’re the best, Eddie.”

“No, you are.” He kisses the top of your head and runs his fingers through your hair, “you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna miss this if you get a boyfriend,” he admits when you both lie down and he pulls you on top of him, “shit, I got used to cuddling you, I need my little spoon.”

You giggle into his chest, “I need my big spoon too.” You place your palm on his chest, propping your chin on the top of your hand, you look into his eyes. “I’m not gonna have a boyfriend anytime soon but you might get a girlfriend,” you whisper, tapping his nose, making him smile.

“Nah,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose up, his eyes shift away for a second, “I don’t think so, I just wanna focus on my music and my friends,” he says, squeezing your waist.

You nod.

“I get that. I feel the same way, I just wanna focus on myself a-and be by myself.”

He smiles, he continues to play with your hair, watching you as you reach for his necklace, eyeing the guitar pick.

“We should just stay single together,” he jokes.

“I actually love the idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

“I’ll still kick Parker’s ass if you need me to,” Eddie says after a moment of silence, making you laugh again. “I hope that you will have a good time though, sweetheart.”

You hope so too.

You hoped so but at that time you did not know yet that the next night would end up a nightmare. That you would have tears streaming down your face, regretting that you had ever said yes to him.

It’s been a long time since you had been out on a date, you forgot what it’s like to feel the excitement but also the anxiety of going on a first date again. The not knowing of how the night will turn out made you a little nervous. You didn’t know what he had planned and where he would take you but you spent all day picking out an outfit, trying on all your dresses, all your skirts, combining your jeans with your favorite tops. You hated every option, every single outfit felt wrong, even your favorite clothes didn’t feel right on you – you should have taken that as a sign to cancel the date, you should have.

In the end, you settled for a blue sundress, pairing it with your favorite shoes and a denim jacket. You braided the front pieces of your hair and did your make up and finished it up with some pink gloss on your lips.

A part of you kept telling you to cancel the date, to call him and say that you had changed your mind but the other part kept telling you that the doubt and the awful feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach was because you were overthinking things, because you weren’t ready to go out with someone else.

You sat on your bed and stared at the wall, bouncing your knee up and down as you fought a war in your mind, you had no time to change your mind though, the doorbell rang too soon for your liking.

You felt some of the tension leaving your body when he greeted you with his cute smile and your favorite flowers, you were surprised, you only briefly mentioned what flowers you love the most in your way too short conversation at the bonfire, last week.

He looked excited and that put your mind at ease, a little.

He was a gentleman, he opened the car door for you and asked you how your day had been, he easily made you laugh. There was no awkwardness in the air, none at all. For the first thirty minutes, you were still a little tense though, your heart was pounding, you were nervous but he was great.

The ice broke when The Cure started playing and you found something you have in common, you started talking about your favorite bands. You forgot how nervous you felt, you even forgot how wrong it had felt to go out with him, you forgot the weird feeling in your stomach, for a moment, you forgot everything. You shouldn’t have.

He was respectful and nice all night, he didn’t touch you the way you thought he would. The most he did was offer you his hand or put it on the small of your back. He didn’t put his hand on your thigh when you were at the movies, not the way Steve did on your first date. He didn’t try to kiss you during the movie, he didn’t try anything. He kept making you laugh and it was nice, he made you feel comfortable and that led to you letting your guard down.

For the first time, you had felt like a guy was genuinely interested in you.

After the movies, you went to get some drinks and things were going great, too great. The part that kept screaming at you all day was back and screaming even louder but you drowned that voice out and you focused on him and how interested he seemed in you.

Was luck on your side this time?

But every good moment has to end and now the moment has come and it brings you here.

You are walking down the sidewalk with your hand in his as you discuss the movie you saw earlier tonight.

“There is no way you still think that Halloween is better than Friday the 13th!”

“I do!” You shrug, giggling. “I think it’s the best movie.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I think you gotta see more movies.”

“Oh, I watch plenty of movies and I love horror but Halloween is still my favorite.”

“It’s hardly even a horror movie, honey.”

The pet name makes your smile falter a little.

“It’s good though.”

You stop in front of his car and you both turn to face each other, he places his hand on the roof of his car and you watch the way he eyes you up and down, the way his eyes linger on your chest, the way he licks his lips and smirks when his eyes meet yours again.

You have to crane your neck to look up at him, he is tall, even taller than Steve. His hair is dark blonde and his eyes are blue, he has a look in his eyes that Steve doesn’t have, you don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not. His hair falls in front of his eyes.

He is handsome but he isn’t him.

You feel shy beneath his gaze, something his demeanor has changed in the past few minutes.

“Tell me,” he says as he leans closer to you, “which girl are you in a horror movie, the one that gets killed having sex or the innocent little girl turning into a killer?”

Maybe that should have made you turn on your heel and run but instead, you giggle at his question with a confused look on your face.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Who are you? The jock that gets killed when the popular girl fucks him or the unassuming guy who turns out to be the slasher?”

He chuckles darkly, “why don’t you find out?” He jokes as he unlocks the car and opens the door for you.

You laugh, “sure, why not.”

The night is over and you can’t help but feel relieved, the date went great and you are happy about that, at least, you can go to bed knowing that there are guys who still just want to get to know you, without wanting something from you.

Eddie is one of those guys too, he just wants to be around you but he is just a friend, nothing more.

The small smile that lingered on your lips slowly disappears when he drives past the street that leads to your house. You glance at him, swallowing nervously.

“That’s not the way to my house.”

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you with a smile, “oh I know, the night isn’t over yet,” he winks and looks back, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and letting his other hand linger close to you.

There is nothing bad about what he said but you feel your heart dropping and a shiver running down your spine, still, you try to stay calm. You take a deep breath and look out the window, watching the passing trees.

This can still have a good ending, right?

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Everything okay?”

You force a smile on your face and nod, “mhm.”

He is making sure that you are okay, that must be a good sign, right?

The wooded area he was driving through, already gave you all the signs where he is taking you, you are still surprised when he parks the car at Lovers Lake.

“You’re not actually the unassuming slasher are you?” You joke when you stare at the dark lake in front of you.

He chuckles at your question, he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. You do the same, thinking that he wants to leave the car.

“Are we going skinny dipping?” You ask, laughing as you reach for the door handle but before you can open it, he reaches out, cupping your face with his large hands and pulling you into him, he smashes his lips against yours, catching you off guard a little.

Your heart beats faster and you gasp against him, you did not expect this. He pulls you even closer against him, kissing you desperately.

It feels wrong, so so wrong.

But you decide to try it out, to see what it’s like to kiss someone else. You place your hand on his cheek, you close your eyes and you kiss him back.

He hums in satisfaction, his thumb lingers on your cheekbone, his lips move softly against yours. It's nice, at first, but then it gets rougher and faster.

You can taste the coke and the rum on his lips, you can smell his expensive cologne on him, you can feel how rough he is and you can still feel how he’s pulling back, he wants more and it makes the pit in your stomach grow bigger.

Disappointment is all you feel now, of course it had to go this way.

His hands move down to your shoulders and he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips, you can feel him smirking against you when you whimper – not from pleasure but from the discomfort of the forceful kiss, you don't know why you keep going, you don’t know why you keep kissing him when you can already tell where is he is trying to take this. He pushes your jacket down along with the straps of your dress and then he breaks the kiss, smirking at you when you gasp at the roughness of his hands as he pulls you closer against him, you can’t keep up with his quick movements. Before you can react, he pushes your hair back and buries his face in your neck, not wasting a second to start kissing and sucking on your neck, it hurts.

You scrunch your face up, hissing when you feel his teeth gracing your skin.

“Ray.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

You shudder in disgust and tilt your head, trying to move back, scooting away, only for him to pull you back. When you feel his hands gripping your sides tightly, you feel your stomach dropping, you freeze when you realize what this night is turning into.

“Stop it,” you warn him with a shaky voice, your heart is pounding in your chest and everything inside of you screams at you to get out of here.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks as he suddenly grabs your thigh, trying to push his hand under your dress, “come on, don’t be such a prude, y/n. We both know you want this. I saw the way you looked at me.”

His words make you feel sick, the nausea rises up quickly and you feel like throwing up.

“No! Stop it, Ray!” You say louder as a mix of anger and fear rushes through you, “I don’t want this!”

The fear inside of you doesn’t know how to handle the situation but the anger does. You grab his hair and pull him away from you, ripping his hand away with your other hand.

“I said no, asshole!” You spit and slap him harshly across the face with the back of your hand, knowing that the rings that Eddie gave you will leave marks on his skin.

His eyes darken at your action, he clenches his jaw and his cheeks grow red, you see the anger and rage behind his eyes and it scares you. With shaky hands, you rip the door open and get out of the car. You need to get out of here, you need to get away from him.

Luck is never on your side.

You feel like a fool for thinking that he was just interested in you. Of course, he wanted more, of course he wanted this from you. What else could he possibly want from you?

You feel your heart in your throat and the regret and fear in you is so strong, you don’t know whether to scream or cry when you hear him getting out of his car. Your first instinct is to run but he grabs your waist and drags you back. You can’t even fight him off, he is much bigger and stronger than you are. He slams you against the car and pins your wrists against it, holding them tightly, too tightly.

“Let me go!” You yell, struggling against the grip he has around your wrists.

He shakes his head, laughing.

“I told you, I don’t want this! I don’t want to have sex with you so let me go or–”

“Or what?” He chuckles, “you’re not gonna do shit. You can’t tell me you didn’t wear this for me,” he says, tugging at your dress before he lets go of your wrist and grabs your face instead, “and the way you looked at me at the bonfire? You gave me those eyes, babe. I knew you wanted to be fucked.”

You shake your head, you press yourself against the car, desperately needing some distance between you and him.

“I didn’t, I thought you were nice.”

“Aw,” he pouts but even in the darkness, you can see the amusement in his eyes, “you thought I was nice? You thought I wanted to take you out on a cute little date, kiss you on your porch and ask you to be my girlfriend?”

No but you certainly didn’t want this. The guy he was earlier, is gone, he dropped the act and is now showing you the side you are afraid of.

“If I wanted a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have asked you out,” he says, chuckling, “you think I was interested in you?”

You don’t answer him, you just continue to stare at him.

“Jesus,” he sighs, “you’re so fucking dumb.”

Your lips part and your brows furrow, you feel like punching him but you also feel like crying, this is a nightmare.

“What would I want with a stupid little bitch like you?” He laughs and he finally lets go of you, taking a step back.

You feel relieved to no longer feel his hands on you but your heart is still pounding and you feel cold.

“I took you out and listened to the shit you were telling me about, the least you could do was let me fuck you after teasing me all night.”

You blink, staring at him in disbelief.

“Let me tell you something, y/n,” he says, tilting his head.

You should have walked away, you shouldn’t have let him speak, you shouldn’t have listened to him, you should’ve left.

But you stand frozen in place, you are blinking, your eyes are wet with tears.

“You are so fucking boring. You’re just a dumb little cheerleader with no fucking personality. The only good thing you have is your pretty face and your body – you should be thankful for that, by the way,” he says, pointing at you, “you’re a good fuck and that’s all you’ll ever be, that’s why Harrington dumped you, you’re not fucking interesting enough to keep around.”

Somehow, he knew which words he had to use to hurt you.

You know that you were never good enough for him, you know that he didn’t love you, you know that he turned away from you because he found something better, something real.

You feel like a fool for thinking that someone could want you for more than this.

Ray had voiced everything that has been on your mind already.

“Oh and that Munson guy you hang out with? He’ll drop you too the moment you spread your legs for him — that’s probably why he’s still around, he’s just waiting for you to whore yourself out to him.”

You want to scream at him, you want to hurt him back but you don’t feel the power to actually fight back.

You stare at him through your blurry vision, breathing heavily as you clench your fists. You can feel yourself wanting to cry but you would never give him the satisfaction and show him how hurt you are. You turn on your heel and walk away, pulling the strap of your dress and your jacket back in place.

“Where are you going?” He asks, making you scoff in disbelief.

You flip him off without looking back, “fuck you!”

You don’t know where to go, you don’t know how to get home from here, it’s too dark to even see anything but you would rather get lost in the woods than get back in his car. You choose to walk down the dark path, refusing to get back on the road where he will drive by.

You refuse to let the tears fall, you blink rapidly, tugging your jacket tighter around you as you strut through the woods. You feel disgusted and angry, you regret this, you regret everything.

You hate yourself for going out with him, you hate yourself for kissing him back, you hate yourself for letting his words get to you. You wipe away the tear that threatened to roll down your cheek.

You were doing so good. You were happy. You were content with the way things were going. Why did you have to say yes to the date? Why did you have to ruin everything? His words have triggered something inside of you, something you had tried to leave in the past.

That’s why Harrington dumped you. That’s why Harrington dumped you. That’s why Harrington dumped you.

I’m not in love with you anymore.

Did you really think that I meant that?

I didn’t, I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?

I mean, it wasn’t love.

Well, he wasn’t in love with her– I mean, he dated her because that was expected of him, right? She’s the popular cheerleader, the pretty rich girl, those have nothing in their brains and they’re pretty boring too so.. It was all just for show, I-I mean, do you really think he wanted her for her?

The voices in your head get louder and louder, overpowering the other. You can’t do this anymore, you can’t. You halt in your tracks, you put your hands over your ears, shaking your head.

A hand on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, startling you. A gasp falls from your lips and you jump back with wide eyes, only now realizing that you are not on the dark path any longer. The street lights illuminate the street ahead of you, you recognize the boat houses.

“Whoa, relax, girly. It’s just me.”

You press your palm against your chest and sigh, it takes you a moment to recognize the lanky guy in front of you.

Reefer Rick.

Eddie’s supplier.

“You scared me,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You relax as you continue to take deep breaths.

The smell of weed invades your space and you glance back at him, noticing the joint between his lips.

“Sorry, kid. What’re you doing out here by yourself?” He asks, smoking his joint.

“Walking.”

“Walking in a dress?”

You look down at yourself with a frown, “what’s wrong with walking in a dress?”

“Nothin’,” he laughs, clearly stoned out of his mind, “I wouldn’t want to walk in a dress.”

“Okay..”

He points to his house, “I’m throwing a party, wanna come inside? I got some new stuff to try out.”

New stuff – new drugs. You don’t take drugs, except for the occasional joints you smoke with Eddie but that’s all.

You should go home right now but the thought of being alone with your thoughts seems too much after the night you had and you want to forget, forget everything that happened.

You hesitate though, you promised Eddie that you would never go to one of Rick’s parties by yourself, he made you promise, claiming that he doesn’t trust the people that Rick surrounds himself with.

Normally, you wouldn’t do this but tonight, you don’t care about the promises that you have made. You need a drink or maybe even something stronger.

“Okay.”

After a long and exhausting campaign, Eddie wanted nothing more than to go home, call you to ask how the date had gone and then go straight into bed but he had promised Rick to drop by and pick up the new supplies.

He parks the car on the side of the road, sighing when he sees all the cars in his driveway, the people on his porch.

Eddie hates parties, especially Rick’s parties, too many crazy people in one house. He walks into the boathouse, wincing at the music – not at the volume but at the awful song choice. He looks around, looking for his supplier.

“Aye Munson!”

He perks up when he hears Rick’s voice, he cranes his neck, looking over a group of girls. He waves his hand in front of his face when someone blows smoke directly into his face as he makes his way over to him.

He is too tired for this tonight and quite frankly, he isn’t in the mood to be here. He wants to check on you. A weird feeling in his stomach had kept him from enjoying the night with the boys from hellfire tonight, it triggered a headache too.

“There you are!” Rick grins and throws his arm around Eddie, “how’s it going?”

“Good,” Eddie mumbles.

Over the loud music, he hears a girl’s giggle and he could swear it sounded like you.

“Listen uh, you got the stuff?” Eddie asks.

“You don’t wanna stick around?” Rick asks, frowning.

“Nah man, I’m tired. Maybe next time.”

Rick sighs, he runs his hand through his messy hair, sticking his joint back between his lips.

“Alright, I’ll get your stuff, wait here.”

Eddie nods. He puts his hands into his pockets, he looks around. A cloud of smoke hangs over the living room, the smell of weed and alcohol is heavy in the air. Most people here are strangers to Eddie, he wonders where Rick finds these people.

He looks over at the people dancing, snorting at the couple making out in the middle of the dance floor, the group of girls that are laughing and singing along to the music don’t seem to bother them as they continue to bump into them. He looks away but then his eyes catch sight of something that makes him freeze in his spot. He has to take a double look to make sure that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.

Amongst the girls he had never seen, is you.

“What the hell,” Eddie mumbles, confused.

You have glitter on your face, your eyes are red, he can even tell from a distance. You are giggling loudly, letting one of the girls twirl you around as she holds your hand over your head.

You are either drunk or on drugs.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.

What are you doing here and where is your date?

He is not happy to see you here. This is not a good place.

Angrily, he stomps over to you, pushing past the people who are on the dancefloor next to you. He calls your name loudly and watches the way your bloodshot eyes widen when you see him. You pull away from the girls, stumbling on your feet, a little.

“Eddie!” You squeal and run towards him, throwing your arms around him. “What are you doing here!”

He smells the whiskey and the weed on you, right away and it pisses him off.

“What am I doing here?” He asks as he pushes you away from him, carefully. “What are you doing here?”

He watches the way your face drops, the way your lips set in a pout at the tone in his voice.

“I told you not to come here by yourself! Where is your date?” He asks, too angry to notice anything, too angry to notice the look in your eyes, too angry and worried to see the marks on the side of your neck or the red and purplish bruises around your wrists.

You fall into a ramble, giving him nothing but incoherent words. You blink rapidly, your voice is shaky, he doesn’t understand a single word and he can tell that you are starting to hyperventilate as the happiness and the bliss begins to fade away more and more.

He puts his arm around you and leads you out on the porch, where it’s more quiet, he sits you down on the steps and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Sweetheart, you need to calm down,” he says when your rambling causes you to breathe faster.

“I-I, yeah.” Is all you say as you rub your eyes, not caring about your make up.

“What did you take?” He asks, thinking that it’s the drugs that are messing with you.

“Just weed and w-whiskey,” you slur.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’re here alone?”

You nod.

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he murmurs, “I told you not to come here! Do you ever listen?”

He doesn’t notice the way you flinch at his words, the way you look at him with glossy eyes as you search for the usual warmth in his eyes.

“I’m gonna get you some water and then I’ll drive you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He gets up, he looks down at you, your eyes lock and he notices the way you look at him, like a scolded child, big eyes that are filled with sadness and guilt, pouty, quivering lips. His eyes soften but he is still so angry, he sighs and turns away and walks back into the house.

He is angry that you didn’t listen, he is angry because he doesn’t know what would happen if he didn’t show up here tonight.

But he doesn’t know what had already happened.

When he walks back out with a water bottle in hand, he closes the door behind him and speaks up without looking at you.

“Alright let’s go – oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!” He yells, startling some of the people who are still out on the porch. But you are gone.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Another sleepless night keeps Steve on his toes. He hates it. He finished his homework earlier tonight, he went out for a run, took a long shower, cleaned his room and reread Pride and Prejudices again.

He wanted to go to the movies with Nancy but she had already made plans with Barb tonight – a ‘girls sleepover’.

He envies her a little, he doesn’t have any friends anymore, no one to hang out with, no one to play basketball with, no one to go to the movies with. He misses it.

He lies in his bed, throwing a baseball into the air and listening to Tears For Fears. He lets his mind wander, he wonders what you are doing right now, he wonders if you are with Eddie tonight, he wonders if – no. Stop it, just stop it.

Sighing, he throws the ball across the room, letting it bounce of the wall and onto the floor, he turns on his side, facing his nightstand and the telephone he keeps staring at every night, hoping for a call from –

His heart leaps to his throat and he almost jumps up when it starts ringing. He stares at it for a moment, almost in disbelief.

The shrill ringing continues to sound through the room and he leans over, grabbing the receiver and sitting up as he holds it to his ear.

“Hello?”

Steve doesn’t know what or who he expected it to be – maybe Nancy or his mom or even Dustin or one of the other kids who sometimes prank call him but when he hears the quiet sniffle, he instantly knows who it is without having to hear the voice first.

His face falls and a frown takes over.

“Steve?”

next chapter

taglist: @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @wroteclassicaly @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729 @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

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evergreen-stories · 14 days

Text

The Forest Beauty | (Aemond x f!modern!reader) (part 1/?)

Summary: time traveler decides to live her new life out in the kingswood, avoiding the new world she finds herself in until an encounter with a certain one-eyed prince changes her life.

Warnings: dark!themes, dark!aemond, obsessive!aemond, book!aemond, no intimacy (smut starts with part 2), intro and first part are kinda a slow burn to introduce the storyline & character

Non-Canon Storyline: 3 years post war – greens won, Aegon's only son was k*lled and only has two daughters remaining, he cannot produce more heirs, Helaena is alive but depressed,Aemond serves as prince regent ever since Aegon got injured during the war and is chronically sick and getting weaker, Aemond is to inherit the iron throne soon, Aemond k*lled Alys Rivers along with all other strongs, Aemond broke the betrothal to Floris Baratheon when he became Prince Regent and won the war (Also, I'm not a native english speaker, please be patient with me)

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

< intro masterlist part 2 > (coming soon)

You wander around the woods, returning from another day of working in the city and coming closer and closer to your home when you start to feel uneasy, as if you’re not alone in the forest. You stop and listen, noticing the sound of footsteps close by. With careful steps you approach the sounds, noticing a head full of silvery hair between the trees and watching it carefully.

A man with an eyepatch, dressed in black leather clothes and carrying a long, sheathed sword on his hip. You monitor him carefully; his hands behind his back as he is gazing out into the treeline, he seems to be taking a stroll. But this deep within the forest?

You stalk him for a while, trailing his steps as you make sure to stay hidden. Too busy with staring at him you don't notice a branch on the ground, stepping on it and causing a loud *krack* sound.

The silver haired stranger turns around quickly, facing you and making eye contact. You know it's too late to hide now, as his lilac eye meets yours and a wicked smile forms on his lips

“Hello there, little one. Are you lost?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, looking him up and down more closely now. He doesn’t look like someone that should be wandering this deep into the forest. You notice the tell-tale signs of a Targaryen. You’ve heard of them and noticed a few children with these features when you explored the street of silk once. But who exactly was this man standing in front of you right now?

His mouth twitches, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, I am not lost, little lamb. Simply having a nice stroll to take my mind off the stress of ruling. May I ask who I have the pleasure of finding so deep in the woods?”

“No, you may not.” You answer, staying wary of the stranger. You’re starting to connect the emblems on his clothes and scabbard with the ones you’ve seen on royal guards patrolling the city before, this man must be one of the princes. “You should leave. These woods aren’t a place for a pretty prince like you.”

“My, my, my. So confrontational. Why the defensiveness, my beautiful little lamb? Are you hiding something?” He steps closer to you, his voice now has a hint of danger in it.

“No one wanders this part of the woods. You’re better suited closer to the city.” You say, trying to sound more polite than before, quickly understanding the prince might not appreciate the disrespect.

“Ah, yes, no one wanders this part of the woods. Well, that only makes me wonder how a pretty little lamb like you got herself as deep in here as I did. Unless, of course, you are not alone.” His eye leaves yours, scanning along the tree line before stepping closer once again.

“Relax, this is no ambush. Unless you keep on intruding on my space, then it just might.” You say sternly, hoping to play into his paranoia and get him to leave quickly.

“I do so wish I could believe you, little lamb.” His eye still scans over the tree line as his hand falls to the hilt of his sword. “How do you expect me to relax when a beautiful girl like you is all alone in the woods? You couldn’t have gotten this far without help.”

“I have. You don’t think all that dirt and tools on me are for decoration, do you?” You say, gesturing to the axe tied to your belt, knifes dangling off the bag you carry that’s strung over your chest.

“And what exactly did I catch you doing all alone in the woods, little lamb?” His voice is firm now, eye narrowing as he takes a closer look at you, trying to judge you.

You remain quiet for a few moments before deciding to answer truthfully. “I live here.”

“You live here, little lamb?” His eye scans over you once more. “YOU live in the woods?” His voice is filled with equal measures of surprise and disbelief.

“I do.” You say affirmingly. “And I’m not fond of guests.”

“A woman alone in the wild? No man to protect her? No family?” His disbelief is evident in his voice and expression. “I cannot imagine how a beautiful woman like you has endured out here.”

Upset at his words, you feel anger starting to boil deep inside of you. Women in this time are still property to be owned, another reason why you decided to live out here, away from society. “Cut the feigned sympathy. I live just fine out here.”

“But is it really living, little lamb? Living in the wild? Surely a woman of your beauty must desire the comfort and luxuries of civilization. Do you feel no desire to start a family, to have someone care for you and protect you?” His tone seems kinder now, almost caring, although his disbelief is still clear and you cannot shake the feeling of danger coming from him.

Suspicious at his invasive nature you raise an eyebrow. “What is this? A tea party to exchange gossip?”

“Oh no, little lamb. You are a most fascinating creature and you have sparked my interest. I am merely trying to find out more about who you are.”

“I’m not interested in conversation-“

“Now, now, little lamb, we’ve come this far already. It wouldn’t be very polite to turn down a crown prince like this.” His eye narrows, an obvious predatory hint in his voice as his hand tightens on the hilt of his blade. “It’s appalling for a citizen to turn down their crown prince, my dear little lamb.”

You tighten your jaw, nervous at the sudden turn this situation has taken but unwilling to comply with his orders. “I am not a citizen of yours-“

“Everyone is a citizen of mine!” His words are soothing with anger as his patience has reached its limit and he pulls the blade from its sheath. “Now come closer little lamb. I’ll help you back to the city where you belong, where it’s safe.” He begins to stalk towards you, his dark gaze fixed upon you.

You take a few steps back before you turn around and start running, using the the fact you know these woods like no other to lure him away from where your home is before skillfully outmaneuvering him in the thick forest, hiding successfully in a small cave. The silver haired man tries to follow you, you can hear him yell profanities and curse words as he struggles to keep up with you, eventually getting caught up in the thicket and falling behind. "Damn you!" Aemond shouts as he breaks free of the branches and finds himself standing in a clearing with no sign of the little Lamb in sight. Where the hell did she go? Damn this forest. Damn her.

He inelegantly shoves his sword back into its casing, taking a last long look around the scenery before begrudgingly turning around to make his way back to the city.

The rest of his day is plagued by thoughts about her, remembering every single detail about his encounter with this strange, wild little Lamb. She lives in the woods all alone, with no one to care for her? Surely, he thinks to himself, no one would truly want to do that.

She did seem awfully skilled at maneuvering the trees and avoiding my chase. Could she truly be completely alone? He wonders, staring into the lit fireplace of his chambers, his finger mindlessly tapping along the rim of the almost drained cup in his hand. His interest in the little lamb was definitely piqued. He would venture out into the woods to find her again once his duties allowed him to.

time skip / two weeks have passed

Things went back to normal after the encounter with the stranger, you didn’t see him again, but you did make sure to be extra cautious about your surroundings at all times, avoiding all travelers for the time being.

You’re sitting on a boulder in the river, only your ankles in the water as you sharpen your axe using whet stones from the river while waiting for the fish you caught this morning to finish smoking. You’re deep in thoughts as when you notice an unusual rustling of leaves behind you and catch a glimpse of the familiar silver head through the trees.

Here we go again.

The silver haired man had been stalking the Kingswood once again as he had done for several days since he encountered the strange little Lamb the first time. Searching for any hints as to where she lived, so that he could go back and speak with her again.

His hope was running low when then he finally saw her again, sitting in the river, tending to her tools. His heart skipped multiple beats, he couldn’t quite explain why he felt like this.

Still, she is the only one this far into the woods. No one around to protect her, just like when he had met her last time. This woman was a mystery he was most eager to solve. He slowly and deliberately stalked over to her, taking great care to be as sneaky and quiet as possible.

Even though you had noticed him immediately you keep focusing on your tool, pretending you hadn't noticed him as he approaches, hiding behind the last tree that provides him with cover before he would have to step out into the open.

"What is it you want?" You ask after a while, your voice loud and clear while your eyes are still focused on the task at hand. His attempts to remain hidden are more amusing than anything else.

The man was startled but quickly covers his reaction with his typical demeanor, standing proud with his hands behind his back as he steps out of the tree line and approaches the mysterious beauty carefully, as if trying not to startle her. She had quite a sharp ear. Although, he should have known better. If this little lamb had survived by herself in the woods, hearing the noises of the trees and animals was a skill she must have honed greatly.

Once he’s only a few feet away he stops abruptly, contemplating his choice of words before he speaks in a friendly yet stern manner. "You are quite perceptive little Lamb."

He remains quiet for a while. You’re still focused on your tool, not looking up, as you probe him further. "Speak. I know you've been following me for a while."

“I was simply fascinated with your lifestyle after our last encounter, that is all." He comes a few steps closer, enough to look at her properly, but not so close as to make himself a threat. "Why do you live out here, by yourself? Away from civilization and society?"

"Because I wish to do so." You say, now leaning forward to wash off the freshly sharpened axe in the river water.

"But is there no other reason little Lamb? You do not get... lonely? You do not yearn for society or friends? This forest is cold, dark, and dangerous." The mans voice seems filled with what seems like genuine concern for your welfare.

"The forests seem like that only to those who aren't welcome in them." You say, now looking up at him for the first time this conversation. "What do I get out of sharing my life story with you?"

Aemond's eyebrow quirked slightly at your words. Your words were not aggressive but they were not exactly kind or welcoming either. „You get to answer your crown prince a few questions that have been gnawing on his mind for a while. Who could say it wouldn’t be worth it?”

“I could say. The less people know about me, the better. Easier to stay hidden that way.”

Aemond stays silent after she says that, thinking over her words in his head. Stay hidden from what? From whom? What could make her feel that she must remain hidden... "Tell me, my little Lamb. Who are you hiding from?" Perhaps after finding out that one thing, he can put this obsession to rest.

"Men like you." You answer, now shifting your attention back to your tools, reaching back into the river to fetch out another whet stone to sharpen a big knife now.

"Men like me?" His eye narrows. " I am no threat to you. What could possibly have led you to believe that? You are alone so deep in the woods and I have not shown you any hostility... yet."

"No hostility?" You say laughing. "Chasing me with your sword was what then? A local friendship ritual I’m not familiar with?"

"Oh, I was simply trying to get you to stop and talk to me. That is all." He says, a small smile gracing his lips at her words. He found her laughter quite endearing.

“Didn’t work very well now, did it?”

"No I suppose not," His smile grows slightly, he finds this strange little Lamb's demeanor quite intriguing. He was never great at interacting with women, but this one seemed comfortable in his company, at least somewhat. Even if she was also incredibly untrusting and suspicious of him, or of men in general. He looks at her intently, savouring her smile as he knows his next words will wipe it right off her face again.

“I want to know more about you. I will not leave until you tell me more.” He says and as predicted, her cheeky smile gets replaced with a frown again.

“I told you, I won’t-“ he interrupts her quickly, almost pleading with her, “I know, I know. But I need to know. I cannot rest at night. I will not tell anyone about you. Whatever you tell me, it will not have any consequences, I swear it.”

You sigh deeply, pondering his words. You couldn’t care less for telling your story, the possibility of sharing too much lingering in the back of your mind. Then again, perhaps this is just what you needed. Sharing a bit of your true self with someone after having to carefully craft a fake persona and uphold it for the past two years. “Fine then. What is it you want to know?”

His eyes light up at that statement as he takes his time deciding which one of his many questions he should ask first. “Your accent, it seems out of place. Are you not from here?”

You immedily begin to regret your decision to talk to him, struggling to find a way to phrase the truth in a way it doesn’t sound too outlandish. “No, I am not. I come from a land far away, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Sort of. I came here with others but they… forgot me. Or maybe they are just unable to return. I wouldn’t know.” You say, looking out into the flowing river as you remember.

“Forgot you? Why would your family just forget you?”

“They weren’t my family. They were… people I knew. We went here and they left, never to return, at least not until today. They probably told my family I died.” What had they told your family? You often wondered it. The changes of the seasons and moons made it easy for you to tell how much time had passed here, in this world. Did as much time pass back home? Was your family even informed of what truly happened or were they waiting back home for a sign of life that would never come, with no way of knowing your fate?

Aemond is quiet for a while, processing this information. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here two winters already, the coming one will be my third.”

“THAT long?” He blurts out, mind racing. “You have survived here alone all this time, out in this forest, with no family or friends? How?”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of your lips, amused by his disbelief. “Yes, I have. I’m friendly with some of the farmers around here and some merchants. I was fortunate, really, that I was stranded here with a few tools and a bit of money.”

“That could not have been enough to make you survive here. The winters can be hard, as can be nature itself. I don’t know a single woman that would be able to survive like this even with all the tools in the world.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You shrug. This is your normal, all you knew for most of your life, you often forget just how unusual it really is. “I come from a family of farmers. We lived far out, away from civilization, and I learned a lot about nature that way. I am, or was, my parents only child. I spend many years of my childhood in the forest with my dad. He was an avid fisher and knew all the ways around the forest, while my mom taught me all about her knowledge of herbs. She was a healer of sorts.”

Your smile returns as she recalls all her fond memories of home. Oh, how you wished you’d never left the farm. “They bred, trained, and sold horses too. I was strapped to a saddle on my own horse before I could even walk.”

His face shifts from one of shock to one of sympathy. He could tell by your words and the tone your voice takes that you missed home dearly. “And you have no way back?”

“No.” You state plainly. Do you? Truthfully, you do not know, but you surely hope you do.

“Why? If I give you coin for passage, can you go back home?”

“I’m afraid its not that easy.” You huff, struggling to make up an answer to this question. “Unless they come get me, I have no way back. I… I’m done talking about this.” You say, now shaking your head.

He wants to press further but understands he shouldn’t, not if he’d like to keep you talking. “Well then… What are you planning to do here then? You can’t just stay out here forever.”

“Why not?” You conter. “I’ve gotten comfortable out here. I know my way around the woods and can survive quite well out here. I’ve come to appreciate my little life out here quite a lot, actually.”

“Is this really life or is this survival? What about finding a family of your own, what about children?”

You sigh deeply. “I may not have answers to all those questions yet, but I do now I’m content here for now. I have no duties here, no bills to worry about. I just need to figure out my next meal and get to enjoy nature the rest of the time with all the peace and quiet it offers me.”

The change of topic strikes a chord in you, one you didn’t realise was as sensitive as it seems to be. The prospect of having to live out the rest of your days in this time is one that seemed more and more realistic and the question of what you would actually do for the next twenty, forty, sixty years of your life was one burning in the back of your mind more and more frequently.

“I’m done talking for today. You may leave now.” You dismissed the prince, frustration growing inside you.

He is not happy about this, his expression shows this as much as the tone of his voice. “Leave? I just arrived. You can’t just send me away.”

“I do not wish to tell any more stories.” You state. Just as he begins to talk again you turn to face him quickly, looking at him for a few seconds before proposing a compromise. Maybe you just needed some time to gather your thoughts and calm the inner turmoil you can feel bubbling deep inside your chest right now. “How about this: If you can find me again, I will answer you more questions. Anything you want.”

His jaw clenches as he lets out a long sigh. This is not how he wanted this conversation to end but he could tell from her expression that she seemed exhausted and the prospect of getting to ask anything he wanted seemed tempting enough to agree. “Fine then. I will seek you out again soon, but I will not rest until I have all my answers. You must swear you will not avoid me again.”

“I swear it.” You answer, a reassuring smile on your lips. “Have a safe travel back, my prince.”

She had been speaking so freely all this time that hearing her address him properly caught him off guard for a moment. He stands still in place, watching her a bit longer, before begrudgingly turning around to leave after bidding a small goodbye.

As he walks away you turn around slightly, watching the swaying of his silver hair until it disappears completely between the trees. A long, deep sigh escapes your lips as you resume your tasks for the day, thinking about all the questions he asked and what you really wanted from your life now.

You were honest, you did love your life as it was now, but sometimes the solitude did get to you as well. A craving for the love and closeness your family had brought you. As much as you cursed the prince when you had first met him, maybe having his attention on you could be a good thing after all.

He thought his mind would be calmed after speaking to her but to his dismay, the opposite had happened. His head is filled with questions still and worse so, genuine worry about her wellbeing. Yes, his little lamb had survived well by herself, but the confirmation that she was truly alone out there was deeply unsettling to him. When he is laying in bed that night, he realised just how little he knew about her. He didn’t know where she lived – did she have a house or did she sleep under the stars? He had never even asked her name. What would it be? If she is from far away, it surely was exotic.

He keeps tossing and turning that night, the picture of her smiling face filling his mind, even more so when he closes his eye, as if he can see even clearer when the world isn’t distracting him. He tries to sleep but he swears he hears her laugh, still as clear and comforting as it had been when he heard it the first time. A sound so sweet it could lull him to sleep, if only there wasn’t the gaping emptiness next to him, reminding him of your absence, of the fact you’re all alone out there. If something happened to you tonight, would he ever find out? He could not bear the thought of it.

His night stays restless. He falls asleep again and again, dreaming vividly about the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled at him, about the freckles on your nose, the small dimples that appeared under your cheeks when you smiled and over your lips when you pursed your lips in dismay at another thing he said.

It was improper, he knew that much. For a prince, the heir to the throne, to be so enchanted by a forest dweller. Nevertheless, his heart skipped a beat every time he had laid his eyes on her. His mind went back to think about all your interactions at every chance it got, even in the midst of important meetings. He was a devoted and proper man; he knew better and yet, something about her felt so fundamentally right that a future without her seemed wrong.

When the first rays of sunshine broke though his windows he had made his decision. He would go to see her again and this time, he would not leave her behind. He could not. He will find her and bring her – well, where? Somewhere, anywhere he knows she is safe, where he knows he can find her whenever he wants to see her. He will figure it all out, he will find a way to make this work.

His feet soon carry him through the castle, unaware of where he is going until he finds himself in front of two wooden doors. The kings, his brothers, chambers.

Currently editing the next part, that one will be 18+! Second series about Aemond x reader coming soon as well (currently proof reading chapter one)!

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond #possessive aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #dark aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #dark aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen

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weebsinstash · 3 months

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hi! I cannot understand Val’s personality at all, and you’re my favorite writer for him, so I was wondering if you could tell me how he’d react in a situation where his darling is being harassed at a bar he’s not at? Like darling obviously has a tracker on their phone and they know it, but they also can’t leave the bar because that risks them getting kidnapped

maybe Val has already started calling them and leaving voicemails because they no showed, so you know that if you don’t call him and have an immediate reason for not responding you’ll probably be in for a very painful night, so you tell whoever is harassing you that you need to go into the bathroom, and it’s very obvious that they followed you but aren’t in the bathroom, so you just take out your phone and finally answer one of Val’s calls, and you make it obvious your crying, but you also hold the phone away from you so it doesn’t seem like you want Val to know your crying.

after that I’m kinda stuck on how he’d react, but if you’d rather not add to this it’s fine, this was part me wanting a response and part me wanting to tell someone my ideas

If it makes you feel better I also find Val's personality to be levels of inconsistent however I kinda interpret it being inconsistent because he's um an extremely emotional person and also an alcoholic addict and he's constantly pinballing between "oooo this will make me money" to "oh you've pissed me off PERSONALLY therefore I will rain fire upon you", like we have several instances of Valentino potentially sabotaging his business for kicks and Vox has had to reign him back in, and he still gives Angel actual fucking black eyes even when there's still filming, he doesn't even care about not leaving marks since everything will heal eventually

I feeeeeeeel like... it really depends on how his darling grovels to him and explains what is happening. You ditched him, you're out at a bar, you were ignoring his calls, and now you're telling him you're with another man. An abusive man would usually automatically assume "oh you're in a bar? Fucking slut trying to find other men, this is what you fucking get" but since we're having, you know. The Yandere Talk, I feeeeeel like.... it goes one of a few ways

One is he's absolutely pissed in general, at you, at the guy, just misfiring rage and snapping. You're bawling ti try and explain your situation and he snaps he can barely understand you because he can't regulate his anger and, it isn't INHERENTLY being mad at you, he's mad he can't understand you, but he's horrible at communicating that, so he shows up to rescue you and (unintentionally) has you trembling in fear of him because he's speaking to you like "where the fuck are you hurt?! Show me? Ugh, this bruise is huge, it's so fucking ugly, UGH-" and he's like not blaming you but is being so terrifying about it that, you're pretty convinced you'll be hit by him at any moment and maybe it would be you FLINCHING HARD at a sudden movement of his for him to, finally take a second to begrudgingly take a few deep breaths and his tone finally softens and he can stop freaking you out even more than you already are

Option 2 I see is that you answer the phone when he's in the 'love' of the love and the hate he switches between, so you catch him in the middle of one of his "baby you know I care so much about you, it just makes me a little wild when you leave me waiting" sort of voicemails. You finally pick up and you get this slightly catty "ohhhhh, look who it is,you remembered how to answer your phone! I missed you" and the second he can tell you're crying, you're just like, hearing all this stuff in the background and he sounds like he's been drinking but when is he ever NOT drinking "awwww, baby no, that's terrible! *heels clicking wayyy to fast for him to not be literally power walking his stiletto ass somewhere* I'm sure Daddy will be able to get everything sorted out *car door slams* and I'll show this lowlife fucking freak exactly what he deserves *moves the phone away from his mouth to HOLLER at his driver to 'get a fucking move on or I'll fucking kill you'* so don't you worry, ok baby? ❤️ make sure you stay on the phone with me, mhm? *click click click of him loading bullets into a magazine* so what's this motherfucker look like, he's uglier than me, right--"

And then I guess another unique outcome would be uh. You pick up the phone and he's just instantly shouting screaming fuming at you so much that he's like screaming for a few solid minutes before he's finally like "are you even gonna say anything you dumb whore?!" and that's when he finally hears your voice but it's not even your voice, it's your breathing, like you can barely even get any air out, like you're having a panic attack, you can barely even raise the volume of your voice above a whisper and your voice just keeps cracking and shaking, "v val" and like, the very first SYLLABLE out of your mouth he knows something is BIG WRONG because you sound TERRIFIED and you can barely even speak, "some-someone's outside the bathroom.... he says he'll hurt me... I don't know what to do....!" and like that's it. It takes Val from 100 to 0 real fast. He goes from "if you're not on your way home in five fucking minutes-" to "what did you just say" and he's completely quiet as you're like struggling to speak, "i-i'm in-in a stall, but he's... OUTSIDE.... WAITING..." and you just sob with a hand over your mouth but he can still hear it and he's already on his way

Do you think Val knows how to fight and I mean like BRAWL. Valentino's still on the phone with you and he can barely even hear you and he suddenly hears the man's voice, he's come INTO the bathroom now, he's OUTSIDE your stall, antagonizing you, scaring you, grabbing the top of the door and shaking it like it's nothing. You're SCREAMING because you're in A FUCKING STALL and he could either rip the hinges off or just like COME UNDER OR OVER and then you're done for so you're like TERRIFIED WAILING I mean shrieking like a murder victim because oh god oh god oh god you're gonna double die--- and you just hear the door to the bathroom get kicked open and the guy is just like RIPPED away from your stall and CHAOS follows. You hear all these thudding, smashing, crashing, breaking sounds and when you finally hear nothing but Val's voice telling you to come out he's just standing there covered in blood and the dude is on the floor with his face an unrecognizable SLUDGE because Val grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the edge of the sink until it was knocking teeth out of his mouth. Valentino is over here, reaching for you looking like that scene from The Witch of Mercury

Except unlike in Mercury you're like, only temporarily in stunned silence before you're like, RUSHING to be held by him because you're just scared and bawling and he SAVED YOU and you're so happy you didnt get hurt. Like the duality of him touching you to comfort you but probably getting blood on you maybe even ALL OVER YOU because he's just touching you that much and you're clinging to him that much

I feel like there are times where Val may intentionally NOT save you to use it as some sort of punishment/lesson to manipulate you with later but I feel like the ways in which he would knowingly allow his darling to be hurt are nuanced and contextual. He'd pay a guy to mug you and rough you up to teach you a lesson about leaving the studio on your own, or set up a fake kidnapping, but you come back into the studio ACTUALLY hurt? Stabbed, limping, whatever? He's furious. No one gets to hurt you. Everyone in this entire fucking circle of Hell should know who you belong to by this point and if they're hurting you, they're disrespecting HIM

..... and also you're his cute widdle baby and he doesn't want his boo getting hurt, at least not in a non fun non sexy way 🥺❤️ see sweetie, this is exactly why you should listen to him at all times and never argue with him on anything ❤️

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #yandere stuff #hh #sinprompts

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venusiangguk · 2 years

Text

the art of yearning | jjk (m)

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

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 15.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A lot of things seem to remind him of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that, JK?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tell me–” Hoseok starts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saw the individual texts from them too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s __?”

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk nods, takes a sip of wine.

“And you wanted to be with her?”

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

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

Jeongguk sits quietly across from him.

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

A brief lull in the conversation ensues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happened? He cut you out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gguk–” Taehyung tries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that Jeongguk can blame him.

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk’s reply is headstrong silence.

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

“I didn’t want to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright–”

“Pusillanimity.”

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

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

“I resent that–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

With time, probably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it’s the same feeling. Want.

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

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

But apparently, he doesn’t.

Maybe never did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can… want things… differently?”

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

“Obviously and most definitely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk didn’t know anything until he learned.

And he’s learned that he wants to try.

~~~

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

“There, there,” a voice consoles lazily.

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

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

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

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

Another weeping sob is the response he gets.

He nods to himself. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are also some of him. Of Nari.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk’s eyes flicker down to the caption.

spa day 💁‍♀️💅🏻👶🏻🐛👨🏻‍🍼

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

flickthebinna: did u have a baby?

ocstagram: not yet… 🤨🤰

flickthebinna: ?

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

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

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

It’s captioned with a simple, eloquent: SKRRRR

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

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

He grunts in acknowledgment as he reads.

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

ocstagram: he’s not my sugar daddy 🙄🤚

ocstagram: he’s my best friend 😌👍

flickthebinna: ok but can he fight

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

“Alrighty!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have time by myself every other week.”

“Touche…”

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

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

Jeongguk hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait– the video? How did you–?”

~~~

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

Jeongguk’s home is quiet. A little cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his home is as lonely as it is quiet.

And lonely people do lonely things.

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

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

And he wants you as much as he misses you.

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

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

Hell, Jeongguk’s guilty now.

Everything about him depicts it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The opposite side of his daughter’s room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yeah–” he pants.

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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