#imagine falling asleep to an audiobook narrated by him

[lewinblue]

Would I love to see Lewis in more movies and shows? Of course. What I think I really need though is for him to do an audiobook because he has the most attractive voice I’ve ever heard.

[metabolizemotions]

Tag Game

Tagged by @drlaurenb, @englishstrawbie, thanks 🥰

Favourite colour: blues, greys, black

Currently reading: I used to listen to a ton of audiobooks, f & nf ~ 2x speed. (Some f ones are really good - even much better than entire shows). I generally prefer listening to reading. Tho I haven't really been doing either lately.

One that I revisit from time to time - Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman (sort of fiction/ v. imaginative thought experiments by this neuroscientist)

Non-fiction: The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green (Essays he wrote, some from his podcast episodes. Part memoir. I listened to the audiobook a while back, narrated by him.)

Last song: This is mesmerizing (turn on the CC). Whenever it pops up, I’ll watch/ listen again. Also a partial, random playlist:

Last series: Watched a bunch recently. Finally caught up: The Umbrella Academy & Stranger Things - I was thinking the whole time, man, they really have huge budgets and I wished some of the other smaller shows I watch have that kind of production value.

For TUA, I always love Elliot Page's performance - this time his transition from Vanya to Viktor, reflecting his real life, was v. moving. & the usual dysfunctional family shenanigans. Some interesting twists.

ST has a v well-developed overall arc - I think it's rather rare that a show gets to fully develop its plots & intricately build its world. I really like Max’s arc - & the actress’s performance.

Paper Girls, The Sandman, For All Mankind. I love all 3 differently. I tot each did well for its respective production scale & genre, with something special weaved in. I was thinking about how the meanings of life & death change when you meet the past/ future you; are stranded in time/ space; or exist for eternity… A certain sense of loneliness/ helplessness... My personal fav is PG - setting aside the genre aspect, I really like the simple but touching stories of the 4 protagonists - esp KJ's story & the actress’s portrayal.

Currently watching: A League of Their Own

Last movie: Nightmare Alley - not my type of show, only watched it for Cate & Rooney 😍

Currently working on: Getting back to meditating more regularly. To be more mindful of my tots, be less reactive, & just remind myself to breathe deeply… I used to do it for ~20min daily. Guided meditations aren't really my thing tho I did listen to some teachers talk about meditation. Walking meditations are kinda better for my overactive mind - I can easily get distracted tho if I keep my eyes open - you know, if I don’t want to trip & fall. Ideally sitting meditation - at least 20min - to "get to the good stuff". Like after you settle down, when your legs start to cramp, after thinking about the grocery list or the plot holes of the shows you're watching or sth... I'm starting with listening to the same Philip Glass's piece each time. Sometimes when I'm tired I just lie on the floor. I fall asleep sometimes...

Tagging: I suppose everyone's being tagged at this point...? I know you typically don't do this tho I still want to tag @mayasdeluca & @closetednobody for fun 😝. Don't feel obliged tho.

[rainfrazier]

finished arc 18 👀

- i love loved loved the last few chapters of this arc. felt good to have these cooldown chapters at the end of the arc with the characters coming together to regroup after all the heavy fighting in the first half. end-of-arc chapters with start-of-arc vibes

- TW E L V E  T O N S  O F  G U N

- the part where the gang arrives at the workshop as kenzie is messing with that organic camera sphincter (🤢) and tristan’s like “uhhhm what the F U C K is that” and kenzie’s like oh don’t worry it’s not my tech!! and tristan literally turns his face towards the sky and goes 🙏🏻😮‍💨. the way the audiobook narrator guy delivered the lines was just so fucking funny

- also it cracks me up so much whenever rain gets worked up and lets the religious profanities slip. this time it was “jesus in hell!”

- CACKLING. but also? rain is super stressed out right now?? everyone is having a serious heartfelt conversation and he’s just kinda hanging out in the back, half messing with his tinker stuff and half cracking jokes, which seems off for him. he tends to shove his anxieties down and turn them inward, and it feels like all the swearing and joking around is a side effect of him freaking out in anticipation of having to back into the dream tonight. somebody get this guy a hug stat

- so it seems the super secret tristan-rain-sveta meetup wasn’t just about tristan’s mental health but also about staging an intervention for victoria. i love love love tristan’s speech where he summarizes the murder incident and how he’s worked to grow from that, and wanting to make sure nobody else gets low enough to make the same mistakes he did. just a nice little speech that really crystalizes his whole character arc. “fighting when you’re low and when you don’t feel you have as much to lose is really fucking dangerous. not just for yourself.” and then sveta’s little speech where she compares victoria’s outlook to cauldron in an effort to get her to see why sacrifice isn’t the best option. DO YOU HEAR THEM VICTORIA? ARE YOU LISTENING? (she is not)

- the detail that tristan and byron and kenzie were taken over by khepri during gold morning :’( (i think this is new info? it feels new to me). were they all there on gold morning? vic was obviously there. sveta was definitely there. pretty sure the ashleys were there. i guess rain was the only one that wasn’t?

- the part at the end of the arc when they’re all gathered at rain’s house before he falls asleep. thinking back to rain at the beginning of ward and how he felt like he’d never be able to escape the fallen alive and how suffocating and nightmarish and desperate it felt. do you think he could’ve ever imagined how it is now? how weird this probably feels for him? the fallen compound completely vacated and repurposed, his old barn workshop full of all kinds of tinker equipment? his old house, his aunt and uncle gone, now with all his newfound friends curled up on the couches and cooking in the kitchen? (i mean it’s still bad in a whole different way. the world is ending for a second time in as many years. mortal peril abounds. but this time he has a whole different lease on life and he has FRIENDS who LOVE and SUPPORT him). oohhh rain. my dear friend rain

- oh also!! kenzie just casually giving byron that pin and when he switches to tristan the pin is still there?? objects conserved across capricornspace??? the way he just stands there flabbergasted and kenzie just thinks its no big deal. the Implications!!!!!

[bellesque]

Sweet Dreams (Loki x Reader) Chapter 2

Read chapter one here on tumblr or on AO3.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.5K Warnings/Tags: Incubus Loki, right now I have no idea what else I’m sorry I’m exhausted Summary: It’s your first free weekend in what feels like forever and you plan on snoozing through it without any interruptions. Someone has other plans.

A/N: Happy early Valentine's Day! I'm actually so overwhelmed with the response this has gotten - it's crazy. I'm so grateful and I love you. Y'all are amazing.

YOU’RE ENTIRELY DISSATISFIED.

You woke up lightheaded and so close, oh so close, to the release that you craved. To have it robbed from you, to come so close only to have it taken away in a little less than a heartbeat, leaves you agitated and—quite frankly—still aroused.

It’s already midday. Surely by now the effects of the mystery man in your dreams have worn off. Surely you’ve forgotten the sound of his enchanting voice, the feel of his mouth on your skin, the absolute bliss that coursed through your body when he…

You’re a little in shock, to say the least. Memories of your fever dream linger in the back of your mind, resurfacing at the most random moments.

You are no stranger to wet dreams. Hell, they’re a welcome change from time to time. What makes this one so different?

Of course, you know the answer. It’s only your stubbornness and pride keeping you from admitting it. You want to chalk it up to just being a dream, too good to be real—only it  was real, and you know that in your heart. You just can’t explain how.

Your Saturday morning is spent obsessing over the man (incubus, you recall him telling you) and replaying every little moment from last night’s tryst.

There’s a niggling feeling that you can’t shake: whatever happened last night is far from over. Oh no, things have only just begun.

And the thought thrills you.

You find yourself constantly checking the time throughout the day.

You’re antsy, whether you want to admit it or not. It’s a mix of fear from not knowing if whatever the hell happened was real or dangerous at all, and anticipation for what’s yet to come.

Until the next night of ours, sweet.

Next. You’re absolutely certain he said next, which means that your indecent show yesterday is getting an encore.

The sound of your TV blurs into background noise as you check your phone. 5:36 PM. Far too early for you to be going to bed, but you can’t even focus on the show you’re watching as your thoughts are consumed by what awaits you when you enter dreamland.

You’re too fucking excited to go to bed that the chances of falling asleep as easily as you want are slim.

With a huff, you rise from your couch, stalking to your closet in the hopes that some reorganization will help you clear your thoughts and relieve some of your pent up energy. Tidying up has that effect, right?

And it helps, even just a little. You settle into a rhythm: keep, toss, hey this is cute, and  ew why do I have this; fold, hang, roll. You’re surprised to find clothes you haven’t seen in what feels like years and check if they still fit you. One particularly racy number catches your attention, bringing to the fore of your brain the reason why you’re fixing your closet in the first place.

You finger the silky material of one of the straps. Maybe if you wear this tonight…

You all but lunge for your phone and check the time, a twinge of enthusiasm in your actions because you can see it’s beginning to darken outside. Which means it’s almost time to sleep.

7:09 PM.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

 As soon as 9 o’clock rolls around (it takes it long enough) and after a long, steamy bath, you pull on the lingerie you found earlier, your hands shaking as if you had just a little too much caffeine. It’s embarrassing how much you’ve worked yourself up over this, turning into a bundle of sex-crazed nerves. It was all you could think about today, you reason. Cut yourself some slack. Or maybe just enjoy it wholeheartedly without the guilt.

The last option is the most appealing.

So you settle into the covers, turn off the lamp that sits by your nightstand, and close your eyes, mentally prepared to accept whatever sexual fate you are to receive.

Only nothing happens.

Your thoughts from today, filthy and secret and quite numerous, play on loop, forcing your mind to stay awake. The opposite of what you want to happen. You want to fall asleep, to see the gorgeous man standing over you and to relish his reaction when he sees what you’re wearing, and then you want to see his expression turn wolfish as he begins to peel off—

You’re doing it again.

Damn it, why can’t you shut your brain off?

You inhale deeply, squeezing your eyes tighter as though the action is enough to command yourself to sleep.

“C’mon,” you mutter to yourself, squeezing your legs together now too. “Sleep, damn it.”

You don’t. Or rather, you can’t.

You don’t know how long you spend lying in your bed with your eyes closed and the rest of your body fidgeting. You toss and turn, attributing your inability to doze off to perhaps the wrong sleeping position. You lie on your back, your stomach, the left side, the right side—and you’re still as restless as before.

At one point in the night you sit up, half-growling, half-groaning your frustration. You just want to sleep. Hasn’t it been your plan for this whole weekend? How is it that they’ve been uprooted and changed so quickly?

Part of you wishes that as you sat up, you’d be met with the charming gaze of the man, signifying that you’ve successfully fallen asleep. Only there is no one to greet you in the night, and you are still most definitely awake.

You’re irritable and tired of the situation, so you grab your phone to watch something before bed. And then it clicks—last night you were listening to the audiobook! It helped you relax then, perhaps it can do the same now.

Triumphant as if you’ve cracked the code, you open it up and let the audiobook play, the narrator’s voice droning on, the words washing over you like a lullaby.

It’s working, you think excitedly as your eyes begin to leaden with sleep.  This is the key after all! The audiobook is the gateway to sleep, and ultimately the gateway to him.

And a few good minutes later, you knock out.

 You wake up.

Your mind whirrs first, before anything else. The gears of your mind are slow and heavy, groggy, needing a little push. Your eyes haven’t opened, but you can tell it’s already light outside.

What the hell,  it’s already light outside?

Your eyes snap open. You’re awake.

You’re fucking awake and he didn’t come last night.

Humiliation creeps into your veins in the form of heat rushing to your face, even if there’s no one but yourself to see it. You even dressed up for him, you think, grimacing as you look down at yourself. Well. That sure was a waste.

Maybe this is the push you need: he isn’t real after all. This week you were tired, short-fused, and definitely sexually deprived. You climb out of bed and pad towards your bathroom. Yes—you conjured up a literal dream man who also happened to be a sex god. Only your mind didn’t give you the courtesy and satisfaction of actually boning with the said dream man.

As you turn on the showerhead, you can’t help the disappointed exhale that echoes around you. Maybe you’re crazy, and him simply a figment of your imagination, but he felt real.

But it’s time for you to stop living in your head, you decide firmly. You’re calling Isla (she’s the one who recommended the audiobook) to see if she can hook you up with a blind date next weekend. After all, you’re a woman with needs, and you can’t rely on dreams to get off.

This time you enjoy your Sunday without any new thoughts of him.

 “So listen,” Isla says to you on the phone on Tuesday afternoon, “I finally got you a date, but the catch is, he’s not free on the weekend. Thursday sound good?”

“Thursday’s perfect,” you reply, hitting send on one of the emails you’re writing. “Thanks, Isles. What’d you say his name was again?”

“Jacob. He’s a solid 8/10 both in the looks department and in the sheets. You  did say you wanted one night stand material, right?”

“Not a one night stand, per se. I mean, yes, well”—you blow air out through your nose—“it’s whatever.”

“Right, this whatever of yours is going over to your place on Thursday night so better get that engine running soon, because you don’t sound the least bit excited at the idea of getting laid. You okay?”

“It’s fine.” You swivel in your chair. You can’t exactly tell her your blind date-slash-hookup probably won’t top the experience you had with mystery dream guy, so you choose to be deliberately vague in your answers. “Thursday it is. Now, I gotta go, I have work to do—talk to you soon.”

This is your solution: to screw him out of your mind by replacing figment with fact. Hopefully it works. 

You get the feeling it won’t.

 Wednesday night, you fall asleep to the sound of rain outside. There’s something about the peace and tranquility, the steadiness of the pitter patter, that comforts you like a familiar blanket.

You’re dreaming tonight: it’s nothing out of the ordinary, just you and Isla on some island getaway downing tropical drinks. You’re heading up to your hotel room, laughing, but a figure in a jet black suit stands right in front of your door. You stop, blink, and the scene changes from your island getaway to your bedroom.

He’s back. And real.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring, your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage. Vastly different from you, he’s leaning against the door, his posture casual and aloof as if he owns the place.

He regards you with a twinkling eye, his lips just barely curved upwards. He quirks up an eyebrow as he pushes off the door and takes two steps towards your bed.

“Did you miss me, pet?”

Something inside you melts as soon as the question is asked, his voice still as rich and full as you remember it nights ago. And then you remember it’s been almost a week, and that he’s left you hanging for that amount of time.

Without much thought, you slink out of bed and walk towards him. “You came back,” you say, and you’re proud of the fact that your voice is stronger than you feel. Right now you want to melt, sink into him and all his spaces, but the humiliation you felt (albeit weirdly misplaced—who gets upset that they got stood up by a dream guy?) takes precedence.

“Did you doubt that I would, kitten?”

You are about a pace apart from each other. Feeling bold, you look up into his green eyes. Oh, how you can get lost in them: warm and seductive and—

No. You will not make this easy. He comes for pleasure, and his alone. You were a little naïve to think he would consider you in this equation, but you know better now.

“I mean, it has been a fucking week. Almost.” There’s an edge to your tone, you make sure of that. Just to make it clear to him that even if he isn’t human, it’s not fair to leave someone on the brink of orgasm and let them think about it for days on end.

“A fucking week?” he repeats, only his tone is amused and thoughtful. He takes a step towards you and you instinctively take one back. A dance of sorts, only there is no reciprocation from you. “I apologize for my absence, sweet. I had other responsibilities I needed to take care of and I didn’t think it would affect you  this  much. Let me make it up to you”—your knees bump against the corner of your mattress and you buckle under the surprise of it. You sit with a yelp, and he rests his hands on your bare shoulders. “Let me make it up to you by a fucking week.”

“What?” Is he going to make you wait again?

His fingers begin to drum lightly on your collarbone. His eyes are practically glittering with excitement, mesmerizing you with how devastatingly handsome he is up close. Especially when he’s looking at you like  that.

“As you put so eloquently, sweet, a fucking week. An entire week of me coming to ravish you night after night, until you’re completely sated and satisfied.” His voice is a murmur, so low and heady you think you hear it inside you, warming you from your innermost parts to the tips of your fingers. “Does that appeal to you, pet?”

Your eyes flutter close as his long fingers skim up and down the column of your throat. Barely five minutes and your resolve has flung itself out the window.

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your neck as he brushes hair from your shoulders.

“Good. I intend to have my fill, and we’ve barely begun. Let’s make a game of it, hmm?” He twirls a lock of your hair around his index finger. “Being my lover is no easy feat. We need to heighten your senses, make sure you’re well-prepared.”

“What do you mean?” The question you ask spills from your lips as a default reaction, not truly thought out. Your attention is elsewhere, that being everywhere his fingers brush against.

“I’m going to learn about you, sweet. And you are going to learn about me.” He presses his palm flat against your chest, right on your sternum, the purposeful action a contrast to your now submissive self. Gently he pushes you until you’re lying on your back, and he climbs onto the bed with each leg on either side of you. His lean figure looms above you, dominating, as he lowers himself, stretching across you, the length of his body encasing you in his warmth and scent. He settles his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you, but the hungrier part of you wants to have as little space between you as possible. It’s intoxicating you further; with every breath you take you feel like you’re inhaling more of him. You just want more of him.

He lowers his head until you feel his mouth at the shell of your ear. Something inside you coils in long-awaited anticipation, your muscles tense and rigid, as if any unwarranted movement will cause this reality to crumble in on itself.

His nose skims the helix of your ear, his prolonged inhale adding to the fire in your veins. And then he speaks in that spellbinding timbre that drives you mad.

“Night after night after night, I’m going to ravish you with my attention. My affection. I will discover, sweet, what desires you keep in the deepest recesses of your heart, where no one else but I can reach, and I will discover what desires have yet to be awakened in you. I like to think I’m quite skilled at that.” He chuckles in your ear, the sound filling your mind with fantasies and visions of other sounds he can make, none of them innocent. “I want to know  everything, sweet. I want to see everything—every rise and fall of your chest when you come close to release, the way your delicious lips part when it finally happens.”

Your eyes have slipped close at this point, every fiber in your being attuned to his words and his voice, hypnotizing you into picturing what he means.

“Yes, can you see it now?” His index finger traces light, arbitrary patterns on the outside of your bare thigh. “Because I can, quite perfectly. You’re going to be a wonderful treat, my dear—so delightful to unravel. Every change in expression, every shift in of your muscle, I’m going to savor it all. Savor  you. And then you will learn about me: what I enjoy, how to make me beg for you after you’ve begged for me.”

He drags a hand over your thigh from the knee up, until it rests on the spot between your hip and your ass. You can’t stop yourself from making a little noise (did you just  whimper? ) and your hips lift off the bed ever so minutely you think he doesn’t notice—but he does, because he hums and settles the weight of his pelvis over yours.

He’s hard and huge, and a thought flashes through your mind: oh, the things he can do to you with that much power between his legs and the things  you want to do to it.

“I like that sound, pet,” he comments, his lips skimming across your earlobe. He gyrates his hips over you once, twice, and then heaves off you. “Do it again.”

A curse tumbles from your lips, and he chuckles.

“What are you doing to me?” Your voice sounds different to you, breathy and almost whiny, and you’re hit with the realization that any form of coherency you have left is about to disappear from you entirely.

He puts his weight on you again, the stiffness poking at your belly a reminder—as if you need it—that there is the promise of more, and that he wants this probably as much, if not more, than you do.

“Teaching you,” he answers simply, his head dipping further to pepper your jawline with kisses. This time you allow yourself to relish the moment, and your neck moves to give him more access as his lips travel to a sensitive spot behind your ear.

“I… I’m not sure w-what I’m learning,” you respond between heavy breaths.

He sucks on a sensitive spot, just at the junction below your earlobe where the base of your jawline is, and you hear yourself gasp, a needy sound that under any other circumstance, would make you shy away in an instant. But here, in this moment, you feel there is no other way to express fully, and the sound is just right.

The gentle suction on your neck is somehow in time with the throbbing of your body, pulsing with the ache for more. His tongue licks over his new spot once he’s done, and your eyes all but roll to the back of your head at the action. The idea that he has just marked you as his sends an electrifying shudder down your body. He moves his face so it’s aligned with yours—you can feel his nose brushing against yours and his lips are a hair’s breadth away. They’re parted, so close to yours—you could easily capture them in a kiss with the slightest tilt of your chin. You try to do so, only you can feel him pull back and laugh lightly.

“First lesson,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth and then down to the ear he hasn’t whispered in. You shiver, craning your neck to the side. “Well, perhaps not a lesson just yet. But the first thing you must remember is my name.”

Yes. Finally you will know his name, something you can scream and whisper and groan in the future. It’s as if he reads your mind, because he continues, “I want to hear you say my name in all different ways. Soft, loud. Pleas, demands. Is that alright with you, sweet?”

You can’t string a single sentence now, with his mouth at your ear and his hands skimming over the skin where your pajama top has ridden up. Your brain is fried, muddled with lust, so all you do is nod.

“Good girl. Now let me hear it from that pretty mouth of yours.” He moves to kiss both your closed eyelids, your nose, until he’s hovering over your lips. You can feel them move above yours and it takes all your willpower not to kiss him right there. “Repeat after me: Loki.”

Loki. It’s a fitting name, for some reason. You can’t picture him with anything else.

“Loki,” you whisper against his lips, quiet and hushed, and it feels right, rolling off your tongue like a stream of water.

“Very good,” he says, and at last he presses his lips against yours, searing hot and languid at the same time. It’s as if he’s taking his time tasting you while you let him take control, his tongue skimming your top lip. And then he kisses you with more fervor, a little growl coming up deep from his throat, and he opens his mouth and takes your bottom lip in between his teeth.

Stars. You’re seeing stars.

Your breathing hitches as he sucks on your bottom lip, a steady rhythm that opens up the floodgates of filthy thoughts and wants and wishes. Giving one final suck, he completely lifts his entire body off of you. Your eyes open, bleary and heavy, and you can see just how divine he looks above you: aroused, flushed, and staring at you with the intensity of the summer sun.

“First  real lesson, sweet,” he says, his voice just the slightest bit rougher, “is sound.”

[rigelmejo]

listening reading method updates

Some updates because I’ve done Listening Reading Method maybe 10-15 hours within the past week and wow is it worth doing (for me) if done properly:

First some notes of what “properly” means for me: It means I’ve done step 2 at some point (since I’m using all books I have at least vague prior context for whether its this past year or in life I’ve seen them before). It means I do step 2 first. Then I do step 3, with parallel text so I keep my place OR do it in Pleco (doing step 3 in Pleco is strangely super effective for me).

So, I’ve been testing my general listening comprehension. How I’ve tested it: listening to some audio file of a chapter I did with L R method, and see if I can understand it better. So no text aid. Also generally some time gap (at least a few days) between when I did L R, and when I listen to test my comprehension.

Limits of test: this is not new material - I have both prior context of the plot, and doing L R method on the material before means I have intensively studied that audio material with L R method at one point. I’m trying to find some ‘totally unknown’ stuff to test with too we’ll see.

Benefits of the test: its easy to compare my progress, because I’ve listened to these audios many times so I know where my ‘comprehension’ of them was at a few months ago. I can more easily compare.

---

So anyway, has L R Method helped listening comprehension? YES god oh my god. 

I listened to Chapter 9 of Guardian’s audiobook just falling asleep, because I didn’t feel like full on L R Method the chapter (I have done Listening Reading Method for chapters 1-8). I could understand enough to follow the entire main plot and all the main scenes - a few descriptive sentences lost me, but I got all the action-related (touched reached stood cried shouted left side pocket held objects movement and set phrases priest uses for certain expressions), key emotion related (like sad cold warm kind sharp worried investigated pushed shivered and set phrases I remember priest using for certain expressions) details, and got all of the main dialogue (this part context helps for though since words like reincarnation and sundial are fairly new to me and I only understand since I already ran into them in previous chapters I’ve done L R Method with). 

I was freaking FLOORED I could just listen and enjoy the story, so today I listened to chapter 1 again. And YEP - same thing applied. I could follow all of the main plot, main scenes, and certain details. I totally missed the part where he talks about his aunt/uncle but I heard his bad grades, got the letter for a job notice, how he hates phone calls, his plan to go, him getting to the place, what the place looked like and Wang Zheng and all the scenes at the job - so like I mentioned, actions/emotions/real objects being interacted with I can mostly follow. The paragraphs of description background (like Guo Changcheng’s upbringing and how his uncle got him a job) are harder for me to catch everything - I am guessing because there’s more description phrases and less straightforward action=response. (For example - xiao guo sees Lao Wu, they respond, so its easy to follow, or he sees Wang Zheng and faints, or he walks into the courtyard and reads the address - all of these moments directly focus on things and react which is easier to follow). 

For the first time I can say I can listen to just the audiobook and follow it enough to enjoy the plot and what’s mainly going on without any text aid. And I’ve only done the listening reading method for 8 chapters! That’s 40-50 minutes a chapter, around 360 minutes or 6 hours. 6 hours spent Listening Reading Method Guardian, and I already see a huge boost in what I can comprehend in listening! (I also did some random L R method chapters of other stuff so add 1-2 hours - that’s still like 8 hours total... that ain’t much). 

Last time I listened to guardian audiobook without any text aid (a few months ago), I could hear some words I knew and some phrases, and had a vague understanding of when he got to the job (heard courtyard and si ming hao), met Lao Wu (i heard him report for duty), when he talked to zhao yunlan and got generally welcomed, met Wang Zheng and thought ‘he has no feet’ and got scared. No fucking details. The vaguest impression of the main plot mainly because I’ve read the chapter before and knew the scenes coming. But that was still eons better than Before That - around 6 months ago i listened to chapter 1 like 5 times until i could hear some phrases instead of just isolated words. 

This time, I could follow things because I could HEAR what was actually going on, not just because I heard some keywords. I could clearly hear the details about Guo Changcheng entering the courtyard, reading the address and special investigations name, go up to Lao Wu and report in and Lao Wu greet him warmly and excitedly mention how lucky it is he came today that their boss is there! And fawn over how cool the boss is, and all the specifics of the convo with Zhao Yunlan (and half of his appearance like how he’s handsome and heroic looking and had a hand in his pocket and seemed cold until he noticed them and smiled and acted warm and friendly). And all the scenes were like that - like with Wang Zheng I could hear all the details of Guo Changcheng freaking out, eventually noticing her head had been cut and it wasn’t a necklace it was like sewn on and how he passed out. It was soooo much better ToT. The amount of comprehension is sooooo much higher than the last time I tried to listen! It shocks me how much better! This is enough comprehension to actually listen and just enjoy it. ToT

So yeah, I’d say Listening Reading Method, as I’m doing it right now, is making noticeable improvements in my reading skill and listening skill. 

So yeah I’m super curious how listening comprehension is gonna be 20 chapters into Listening Reading Method. 

What I do think this would be good for, if you were studying short term? If you wanted to understand a specific audiobook - doing L R Method with the book until you can listen to the rest. It would probably take a short enough amount of study to do within a month if you already have some skills in the language (since this is with 6-8 hours of study). I saw someone once do SRS Flashcard study based on a show they liked in a foreign language, and within a month they could watch that show they liked without english subs and follow the main plot. I think L R Method with a novel works kind of similar - its intensive study on one story. So within a reasonably short amount of time (10-50 hours maybe, something that can be done within a month) you can get enough comprehension skill of that One story to understand it ok. 

I imagine you need to do L R Method longer, and with either a word dense material (lots of varied vocab) or else multiple stories (ideally different authors and genres), in order to get broader listening skill improvement. Like right now my listening skill in general seems to have improved somewhat... but its more like ‘listening to a show without subs’ is now easier. Not like I can turn on a brand new audiobook and follow it this well. So some slightly easier listening activity is now easier, but for other audiobooks I am probably comprehending more but the listening skill improvement is NOT as drastic as it is specifically with Guardian. 

Testing listening comprehension with materials I have not L R Method with:

Alice in Wonderland (story is shorter/simpler than novel): I can follow it mostly when listening only. I can follow it near entirely (know exactly what’s going on just a few words I don’t recognize) if I’m looking at the video (since it has pictures for context - like watching a show). My listening comprehension drops noticeably if I do NOT look at the video visuals for an aid - since I am used to Alice in Wonderland hitting the original novel beats, not this shorter movie-based version. This level of comprehension makes sense, as its written simpler than Guardian so I should have an easier time following details in this. But lack of context means I have to put more effort into figuring out what scene is what if I don’t have any visual cues. So easier ‘written’ audiobook material is much more comprehensible now (easier than Guardian even since I know most words), but I still need context like an image or prior awareness of the overall plot or else I need to pay more careful attention to follow everything: https://youtu.be/HqCg5y8Nwhg

Sherlock Holmes 血字的研究: Some benefit just like Alice in Wonderland in that I have broad context (I know Watson and Sherlock live and work together to solve issues, Watson is a verteran and doctor). First 5 minutes I can vaguely tell its probably Watson narrating, that he lives in London, that before he might have been injured (I heard bing like sick or?) - I’m truly not sure what happened, and now after 5 minutes I heard ‘great friend’ and ‘touched shoulder’ and ‘gaoxing’ so happy. So I’m guessing Sherlock and Watson are interacting now. What improvement in my listening comprehension I can Notice - is that words stick out, phrases, and sentence structures (like finally, since, therefore, actions). So I feel if I paused I might be able to look up some words I notice but can’t understand, to follow along better. As the 2 of them have their conversation I can catch SOME details and I could probably follow what’s going on IF I had some prior context (like what the general case is about). But I only hear - its a pity, what happened last night, poor lad, fangzi, destination. So i’m not sure if someone died or was hurt or what happened the other night?? But again, conversations seem to be the easiest part to follow. For this particular audiobook I almost feel like if I just kept consistently listening or re-listening, I could understand more... like I probably know more words than I’m catching, but since my brain’s working on trying to catch the main gist plot right now its not grasping any details I might otherwise be able to notice. No prior context of plot, no image - hard lol. Unlike guardian, I cannot follow most of it. But I can catch bits of each scene, most clear are the dialogue parts (but cause I have no surrounding contexts I’m still pretty lost). Also the clear action parts are easier to follow (he spoke, moved, reacted to something). Mostly the lack of context is what’s making me struggle. In the descriptions I hear a lot phrases and words I recognize, but I’m struggling to comprehend them together. Unfortunately context is mostly in the description parts I can’t figure out lol. https://youtu.be/J1sbP6_3680

I suspect an audio DRAMA might be a little easier now. Since they’re mostly dialogue, and dialogue seems to be what I’m finding the most improvement in (from very vague to some of the clearest comprehended parts). I listened to tian ya ke audiodrama a few days ago and it was doable to follow along with - but that was before more Listening Reading Method, and of course my prior context (having seen the show/read part of the novel) means it was muchhhh easier to follow cause I had enough context to guess which scene each moment was supposed to be - so I didn’t have to figure out overall context, just details. 

[davidcxrenswet]

“ i just want to hear your voice until i fall asleep … ”

He wasn’t present for most of the removal, and for good reason. If Mariana so much as shrieked or cried out once, he’d fight tooth and nail to stop the whole thing. Sure they had Bryce, a rugged brute, and Kaz the golden boy jock around, but Harvey was taller and quicker, and none of them would be able to hold him down. He’d stop the whole thing and drag Mariana away from there if she cried out for him to do so. So it was imperative he stayed away. He just didn’t get very far with that plan. Harvey had been pacing outside the house where they conducted the exorcism or whatever it was they were doing. He didn’t really know, and frankly he didn’t really care to know. The more details he had, the harder it would have been for him to be away. At the time he had only really understood a couple scattered facts: there was some shard inside Mariana which changed her genetic make up to the point that she needed to literally eat men in order to survive, the longer it was there the more feral she’d get, and that only the Murder Club could get it out of her. He didn’t like that last bit. No matter what, Harvey just didn’t trust that group of delinquents. And at that time he had to trust them with the most important person in his life.

It had nearly driven him mad, to the point where he just couldn’t stay away and finally gave into the urge to run to her. When he barreled down the stairs into the cellar where things were happening, he could only remember a handful of things. Mariana was chained down in the center of the room, her jaw unhinged in an inhuman way revealing rows of deadly sharp fangs. She didn’t look anything like the girl he cuddled up to almost nightly. It was hard to believe the flesh curling above those teeth were the lips he kissed so often. There was nothing recognizable in her frenzied eyes or shrieking voice. It was an image out of his worst nightmares, created from the girl of his dreams. He remembered the way his stomach flopped uncomfortably, the whirl of nausea that gripped him while his heart shattered at the sight. It was horrid and it was frightening and it gutted him to hear her scream like she did. Surely they were failing, there’s no way they could hold back that demonic thing. That’s what he thought, and it was probably true, but then there was a voice calling over the screaming and shouting — a voice Harvey thought may have been Violet Matthews but it had seemed unlikely. After all, none of them really cared if the former junior deputy didn’t survive this B-movie horror show they’d been dragged into — so whoever called out that staying this way could lead to his untimely demise was likely seeking the only trump card they could have against her in the situation.

The next events blurred together to the point where Harvey wasn’t sure exactly when they happened or how long it all took place, but eventually Mariana stopped fighting, and the whole weird ritual thing went on and a shard of glass was ripped out of her abdomen by some invisible force. It all happened so fast that whenever he tried to imagine it, he no longer felt scared of the memory. He was practically numb to it. What he recalled more clearly was Mariana passing out afterwards and everyone huddling close to her, until he’d shouldered past them, making his presence known, and carried her out of there. If any of them tried to protest, he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving her with them after all that — somehow he knew deep down she didn’t want to wake up surrounded by their concerned expressions and probing questions. So he took her away, back to the loft apartment he’d kept above the old church. She was out cold the entire time, and he’d worried momentarily when he’d deposited her on the bed that maybe he shouldn’t have moved her. It was too late, though.

She was there, tucked gently under the covers of his bed after he’d put her in clean clothes, snoozing silently against the pillow. He hadn't fully registered what was going on until Sassy had placed his head on the edge of the bed and whimpered at the girl. “Ssh, quiet buddy,” he hummed to the dog, scratching behind his ears. “She needs some rest.” And boy did she rest. Harvey thought she’d be asleep for maybe five to eight hours, at least the length of a regular sleep. Surely once the sunlight flooded through the skylight she’d be roused awake. He didn’t feel bothered when Sasquatch jumped onto the empty space beside Mariana and curled up to sleep, occasionally poking his head up to observe her in hopes she’d wake. When Harvey pulled a chair next to the bed, popping in one AirPod and pulling up an audiobook to keep himself occupied while he waited, he’d expected to only be sitting there for a few hours.

So when nearly sixteen hours had passed and Mariana was still asleep and he’d had the worst ache in his joints from leaning forward on his elbows and watching her with deeply worried eyes… Harvey just wasn’t sure what was going on. He was beginning to fear the worst: that somehow the exorcism or ritual those stupid kids did put his girlfriend in a coma. He wondered if he should rush her to the hospital but then what would he tell them? “My girlfriend was a man eating demon because someone literally shoved a piece of glass into her stomach but it’s okay some hooligans from school read some Latin out loud and got it out of her but then she passed out and hasn’t woken up in like more than half a day, so I’m not sure what’s wrong but I think she’s at least human again.” Her mother, the hospital nurse, would surely love to hear that ridiculous story about her daughter from a coworker. Before Mariana even woke up, they’d send Harvey to the loony bin and toss out the key.

He was beginning to fear the worst but then it had finally happened — she woke. He imagined that moment a lot when he’d been sitting there, alternating in between listening to Stephen Fry narrating Harry Potter or Weezer crooning alt rock. He imagined the sharp inhale when she woke, the way her eyes would slowly and hazily open, looking around the room and trying to piece together where she was until her gaze landed on her dutiful boyfriend brooding in the chair next to her bed. And he wouldn’t notice her until she’d speak up, her voice soft and tired. And then he would jolt awake and jump to the bed where he’d shower her in soft kisses and practically weep over how happy he was she was okay… the thought went hazy there but he assumed he’d go make her breakfast and she’d walk around feeling totally normal and okay, like a healthy and happy teenage girl just waking up on a lazy Saturday morning. Maybe they’d go for a drive, or head to Marie’s because certainly she’d be ravenous. Normal. He’d suspected she’d wake up normal. What he got was a little different. She definitely seemed tired, and a little disoriented, and when Sassy leaned his massive head over and gently licked her hand and curled into her side, well he suspected she must have been happy to see her two boys first thing waking up after that horrific night. He hoped she was happy. But there was this edge in the air, something that told him that something was off.

This only became apparent in the way Mariana had acted since waking up. She was fatigued, understandably, but she was also quiet and distant. While she seemed mostly physically okay, there was definitely something going on with her, mentally or emotionally, that didn’t seem okay. Harvey tried to figure out how to change whatever was amiss, but as usual Mariana didn’t open up right away to him. She kept herself a bit closed off, kept her feelings mostly concealed. So he’d focused on taking care of her in other more obvious ways. He cooked nutritious meals for her, foods to help her get her strength back, and monitored her hydration, urging her to drink often. He’d hovered by her whenever she got up to move, making sure she didn’t stumble. He’d made sure she was always comfortable, put on her favorite programs to give her something to occupy herself with. He’d even made sure a whole load of his t-shirts was washed and folded, ready for her to swap out since he knew she liked wearing his clothes while lounging about. He’d offered to take her on drives to get some fresh air, let Sassy occupy Harvey’s usual spot on the bed in case she wanted puppy cuddles — just about anything he could think of that would make her happy. But she barely responded to his actions. The only times he thought she really reached out to him were when she wanted to curl up against him. He’d caught her doing that when they slept side by side, Sasquatch banished to his own doggy bed so Harvey didn’t spend another extended period sleeping upright in a chair. They usually spooned when she’d slept over before but when they’d slept next to each other during her recovery Harvey had made it a point to give her space in case she was in any physical pain. But he’d wake up in the middle of the night to her curled up against his side and he’d shift over to wrap his arm around her. He knew when he was being asked to hold her, and he knew it was best to comply.

After a couple days, Harvey began to feel a little useless. Eventually she was tending to her own needs, taking care of feeding herself etc. He still felt that she was distant, and he’d yet to try and broach the topic of what happened. He wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk, and given that she didn’t bring up what happened herself he figured it was going to be some time before she gave any indication she wanted to speak about it. So he bit back the questions, the lingering concern of the after effects. They weren’t back to a normal routine yet, which made him think she wasn’t exactly back to normal herself. And given she didn’t give him any ideas as far as what she needed from him, he was beginning to worry. He recalled that moment she gave in to the shard removal, the suggestion that had been made by one of the Murder Club kids. You’ll hurt Harvey. If that was the thought that clicked with her, that led her to give up her demonic powers… He was beginning to think that maybe the reason she wasn’t opening up to him about what had happened was because deep down she blamed him for it. What if she didn’t want to give it up? She did give them a fight at the end there… What if she regretted giving it up? And if he was the reason she did do that… Did she resent him for it? He hated admitting he was an insecure man, but late at night when he was alone to his thoughts and she felt like she was pulling even further away from him… It was all he could think about. What if she hates me now? Deep down he knew it was a stupid thought, but she wasn’t giving him a reason to think otherwise.

When they laid down the next evening, Harvey carefully moving in closer to her while still maintaining space between them, he’d found he had enough tip toeing around her and to point blank ask her what she wanted from him. So as Mariana settled into her pillow, he turned to look straight at her and abruptly asked, “Do you want me to spoon you?” He watched her brows knit in response to his random outburst and so he continued speaking. “I mean… Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re sleeping against me and I realize when we go to bed I don’t, like, try to hold you or anything. I guess I’m asking if you want me to cuddle with you when we go to bed?” It felt so weird asking for clarification on something that was typically second nature for them. Dragging a hand through his curls, he slid his palm over his face and sighed deeply.

“I just… I don’t know what you need from me right now. Things have been kinda weird and I feel pretty nervous around you and I just… I’m worried I’m not giving you what you need right now. So I need you to tell me what it is that you need me to do, or want me to do to help you through whatever is going on in your head lately. I won’t push or ask you to open up to me if you’re not ready to do so. Even if you’re never ready… it’s fine, I’ll understand but I need you to tell me what I can do for you now to help make things okay again. I feel kinda useless which is fine most of the time but in the case of the girl I love, I - I just want to be able to do something for her. So please just… help me out a little. Give me something.” When she finally said something, Harvey was a bit surprised at what she said. He blinked a couple times before his gaze softened. He’d been an idiot. All this time he’d been working himself up feeling useless and he forgot one very simple fact about their relationship. Companionship. In its simplest form Mariana really just enjoyed his companionship. It took him a bit of time to realize that, pushing himself to the brink of insanity creating overly romantic moments filled with grand gestures when really all he needed to do was just be there and she seemed content.

Cheeks a bit pink with a slight blush, Harvey moved closer to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his chest, tangling his legs with hers under the covers as he weaved his fingers through her blonde hair. “You want to listen to me?” He asked quietly, awaiting her confirmation. “What should I do? Just say whatever? Tell a story or…?” His nerves were getting the better of him but he swallowed them back and cuddled her closer. She wasn’t asking for much, there was no sense complicating things. She probably just wanted to be held by her boyfriend and listen to his soft voice while she dozed off. How hard could that be? He pressed his lips to her forehead, and smiled when he swore she moved in closer. He could do this for her. He was pretty sure he’d do just about anything for her.

“Okay, I can talk. If that’s what you want, then I’ll just keep talking until you’re fast asleep. I, uh… I was looking at the calendar while cleaning the dishes earlier and I realized something. Prom is coming up. Yeah I started thinking about it, trying to remember where I packed my tux. You know, from things like debut. ‘A gentleman should always have a tuxedo in case the situation calls for it.’ That’s what Margaret used to say. Anyway, I started mentally tallying up the cost of everything. Limo, corsage… Thought that instead of taking you to the motel afterwards like a total cheapskate that we could ditch town and drive to the city and stay at a fancier place for a long weekend. Make a whole trip out of it. Didn’t you tell me that after prom it wasn’t a requirement to go to classes? I think you said that once. Like a year ago… Whoa, we’ve been dating for almost a year now. That’s pretty wild. I think after everything we’ve been through this year, we deserve to run off and ignore everyone for a few days.” He chuckled, “Not that I’m suggesting I should be your date to your Senior Prom. I mean I figured some of the football players and other guys in town will attempt to ask you, and I should at least give them the chance to try. We both know I can do a kickass promposal, but I’m kinda curious what the other kids in town may come up with. Who knows — Maybe one of them will woo you better than me. Then I can spend another prom night in my boxers watching Lord of the Rings. Just know it’d be your loss because I’m a great awkward slow dance partner. And I look good in a tux.”

Smiling, he pulled Mariana practically on top of him, curling both his arms around her and pressing kisses into her hair and onto her face. He wanted to give her some sense of normalcy, something that was a bit more like their usual routine. And cuddles and chaste kisses while he joked about prom and her many suitors seemed like a good start. A reminder that there was still so much to look forward to and that, shard or no shard, she was a gorgeous girl that boys tripped themselves over. She was still that girl that took his, and likely everyone’s, breath away.

“Whatever happens, just promise me this — no truth or dare with random kids you don’t recognize, okay?”

@karolinadeanwrites

[justlovemewrite]

wrapped up | 1

title: wrapped up member: d.o length: 3k genre: fluff, angst

a/n second part will be up as soon as i decide if there’s a smut attached or not~ that was my original plot but now i’m reconsidering it, so! we will see. not proofread (yet?)

part one — two — three

A book, a comforting blanket, dim lights, and the great outdoors providing an all-natural, completely organic storm playlist for you; this was your idea of a good night. You sighed as you tucked yourself in further into the blanket, curling your feet so they didn't stick out underneath it, and turned a page on your book.

It was storming outside, and as the weather had predicted this from morning, you had planned ahead and decided to spend a night in taking care of yourself. And, unlike what people may say, you were not lonely, thank you very much. You were perfectly content on your own. This was where you were best; when you didn't have to account for someone else, even if that somebody was—

The doorbell rang, and you blinked. Who would be here at this time? The storm was bad enough that everyone had been recommended to stay in for the evening.

When the doorbell rang again, you slowly pushed your blanket off you and padded to the door, peeping outside. Do Kyungsoo stared back, looking sheepish—and very, very soaked. You gasped and unlatched the door, stepping aside immediately. "Kyungsoo! What are you doing here? And—why are you all wet?" You hurried back as he stepped in, grimacing when he dripped onto your floor. He opened his mouth to answer you, but what came out instead was a sneeze. You winced and moved to get him some towels, signaling for him to shut the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" you asked when you found your extra towels, bringing them to him and handing him one. He began to pat down his hair as you wrapped one around his shoulders, patting it in place and stepping back immediately after.

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late but I didn't know where else to turn."

"That's fine," you said, shaking your head. Kyungsoo's office was pretty close to your own, and with his hours he probably got caught in the storm. And you weren't going to leave him out in the cold, of course not. "What happened?"

"I was back late working on a—" he sneezed again, louder this time, and you bit your lip and gestured to the bathroom.

"Tell me later. You need to get out of these clothes," you said, and he nodded, nose red.

Once he was in the bathroom, you turned to your bedroom, getting a pair of his old pajamas out of your bottom shelf, and looking around for a shirt. Nothing of yours would fit him, but he needed some warmth, so you pulled out a thick robe that might be a little tight in the shoulders, but would at least keep him covered.

You knocked on the bathroom door, pausing when the sound from inside stopped. "Kyungsoo? I've left some clothes out here for you. And take a shower before you come out! You need to warm up."

Once he agreed, you left the clothes down on the ground and returned to your living room, throwing a towel down on the wet spot at your entrance. From the couch, your book stared up at you, bookmark saying pick me up!, but your concentration was lost for the night. How was a book going to occupy you when Do Kyungsoo was in your bathroom, taking a shower?

Not that this was a first time occurrence. He had showered in your house before; had slept in your bed before, he had left his clothes at your apartment before. But all of those things were before—before you had slipped up, before the two of you had slept together and you had said those three dangerous words.

You shook your head and got off the couch, looking inside your fridge instead. You had some leftover soup that you could heat up, and sandwiches were always easy to make. Would he have eaten? Knowing his working habits, you were fairly sure he had not—when he was deeply involved in a recording, he tended to reach absorption, and lose all track of time. That was also probably how he got caught in the storm.

You leaned back against the counter as the soup heated up, trying not to think about the last time this kind of thing had happened. Kyungsoo had been in your shower after the two of you had been splashed by a passing biker, and while he had showered you had decided to make some pasta. You had stood at the stove, stirring your (storebought) sauce, unable to stop yourself from imagining that he would come out from the bathroom all warm and damp and soft. He would wrap his arms around you, ask you what you were making, tell you it smelled delicious. You would turn around, and he would smile at you, and it would be just for you.

Except of course, none of that had happened.

You sighed.

It wasn't your fault, really. How could anyone not fall in love with Kyungsoo? And you, pretending to date him and calling him sweet names and holding his hand and feeling the full force of his warm gaze on you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and introduced you as his—how were you supposed to keep yourself from falling for him?

You had met Kyungsoo through mutual friends in college, and you had become good friends in a larger group, usually sticking to each other when there were too many rowdy others around. You were the balancing forces in your noisier group; when some of them (see: Baekhyun mostly) turned too wild, you were the calming presences that dragged them home and made them hangover soup. Over the course of those years you had naturally grown close and gravitated together, and had kept in touch better than most others had after university ended; it also helped that the two of you remained in the same city for work.

You were good friends, but you were just friends; you might have looked at him and thought oh, handsome one time or five, but that was all there was to it.

Then there was the party. You had had a boyfriend of eight months at the time, and while in hindsight it was hardly the best relationship you had been in, at the time you had been delighted—and very in love. Naturally, when your family had called you to their annual get-together, you had promised to bring your boyfriend, who you couldn't wait to introduce them to; mostly on account of your evil cousins, who had teased you through your adolescent years and continued to believe you were too boring to have a good partner. It didn't matter; you were going to take Changmin and he was going to knock their socks off.

And then you broke up. Not very noisily or messily—you were apparently not meant to be, and you may have cried a lot, but you accepted it when Changmin said, gently, that he didn't want to lead you on when he didn't see this going anywhere permanent.

Which was fine, really. It was. Except when your mother called up saying she couldn't wait to see you and your boyfriend, you were stuck. Well, not quite stuck; you had two options: either admit you had broken up and sit through your cousin's teasing with the knowledge that you were in the right, or accidentally forget to tell your mother you had broken up with Changmin and then panic at Kyungsoo that you had no date to bring. Kyungsoo being the perfect friend he was had suggested he pretend you were dating, just for the evening, and that you take him. At the time, neither of you had seen the possible flaw in the plan: feelings. You had been delighted, Kyungsoo had been happily obliged (especially when you offered to treat him to a nice dinner the next weekend), and your family were charmed.

A week passed, and then two, and then Kyungsoo called you up saying hey could we maybe repeat this? It's just, I have a work wedding, and my boss says to bring a partner. And how could you say no when he had been there in your time of need?

More importantly, why would you say no when he said there would be free food?

So that had started that, and the two of you had become each other's dates whenever an event with a partner was required. It was easy, the two of you were friends, you were usually available all the time, you both enjoyed the prospect of free food, and since you had known each other so long it was so easy... And then it was a little bit too easy.

Kyungsoo's eyes twinkled when he looked at you, and you knew it was pretend but the butterflies in your stomach were a little too real, and a little too fluttery. Whenever you had an event, the two of you would go to whoever's place was closest and get some kind of dessert or rent a movie, some kind of relaxing activity after spending ages around too many people—it was fine at first to fall asleep on his side and wake up tucked into a blanket, and then it wasn't. It was fine having him compliment you, and then it felt too real, and also not at the same time.

But you could handle it. You could, really. You just had to never mention it to him and keep going like you always had, and your little crush would disappear; it was all because of the fake-dating, anyway. You would just invite him to less events and feign being busy if it wasn't too important for him, and you'd be fine.

"Y/N?" you heard Kyungsoo's voice from the hall.

"In the kitchen!" you called, craning your head out past the counter. Kyungsoo appeared, still rubbing at his short hair with the towel, robe wrapped tight around him. Clearly the shower had worked wonders; his face and nose were a lot less red, and he was also not shaking on the spot, both good things. "I decided to make some soup and sandwiches."

Embarrassment coloured his features. "You didn't have to," he said.

"You need to eat. How long since you ate last? Let me guess—you skipped dinner because you were too busy with a recording?" Kyungsoo worked at an audiobook company that was tied up with a larger publishing house. He was a narrator, but that wasn't his primary job; either way, he tended to spend long after the official working hours trying to perfect his work. You smiled as he moved to the counter, ladling the soup into a large bowl and plating the sandwiches up.

Kyungsoo accepted the tray with a low thank you. "You know me too well," he said softly, and you let out a quiet huff. So you did. That had been part of the problem.

The two of you settled back onto your couch, you throwing the blanket over the both of your legs as he placed the tray on your coffee table and blew on the soup. It was largely silent as he ate, looking much better with some warm food in him. "I really am sorry for coming here so late," he said after a few minutes. "I didn't want to bother you, but—there was nowhere I could go."

"What did you think, I'd kick you out in a storm?" you asked, scoffing as you took a sandwich for yourself, more to busy your hands than anything else. Kyungsoo cleared his throat, taking his time with a sip of soup before he replied.

"No, but... I don't know. It's been a few weeks."

It had. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had spoken. Or rather, it had been a few weeks since you had made your mistake.

It had been a frustrating kind of evening; a colleague of yours was getting married and wanted all his coworkers at the engagement. You didn't technically need a date, but everyone expected you to bring your long-term boyfriend, and at that point the two of you didn't need an absolute requirement to go with; it was just mutually, silently, agreed upon. Kyungsoo had arrived, looking amazing in a suit that did wonders to emphasise his thighs, his waist, and you couldn't help but stare—not just once, but all night. But for once, you were sure you weren't the only one looking. You felt his eyes linger on you in your dress. You noticed when his lips brushed your ear when he went in for a cheek kiss. You felt his hands around your waist just a little tighter than usual.

And you were sure he noticed, too, that you were braver than you had ever been before. He must have realised when your hands lingered on his leg just a little too long, when he caught you staring from across the room. You were sure he knew what you were doing when you had pulled him just a little closer when you were dancing, felt his grip tighten on your bare back.

When you got home, you had expected it to end. But it had evidently just been starting; as you groaned with satisfaction to take off your heels, Kyungsoo pulled you closer, staring at you. His eyes were molten—you had seen them up close many times, you had seen them smiling and shy and softened in affection and even hardened in anger, but you had never seen such heat, and certainly never directed at you.

"Can I kiss you?" he had asked. How were you supposed to refuse? It was evidently a night of doing new things, spontaneous things, and you had done exactly that: you had slept together; and then you had told him you loved him; and then he had disappeared in the morning.

"It has. But I wouldn't just let you freeze!" you insisted, frowning. Did he really think you would just—kick him out? Not take him in in the middle of a storm? He couldn't think that, or he wouldn't have come here, would he?

"I know, I'm just... I was scared. You could kick me out now and I'd deserve it." You frowned. For what? For sleeping with you? For ignoring you? For leaving you after you had said you loved him, a silent, if effective, rejection? For not telling you to your face that he didn't return your feelings?

"I'm not kicking you out," you said softly, and he sighed into his soup, not meeting your eyes. "You're not going anywhere until it's dry outside."

He laughed under his breath. "That might take a while." You couldn't help the pang at his words, the low tone, the way he wouldn't look up at you. It was so awkward between the two of you now. It was like it had been months or years, not just four short weeks since you had spoken—less, even, just over twenty-four days. But then, in the last two years, you had rarely gone two weeks without meeting up at least once, if only for dinner or to catch up. In the last six months, not even a week.

"It can't be that hard spending time with me, can it? We'll be in bed for most of it." You paused. "Sleeping. Asleep. Not together."

He laughed again, pushing off the couch to put the tray away. "I'll do the dishes."

"You don't need to do the dishes." You followed, getting up after him and crossing your arms.

"You made me food. I should do the dishes." How domestic. The tone was entirely sarcastic, and you took a deep breath to push away the frustration rising in you alongside the sadness. All this time you had been friends, all this time you had spent falling in love with him, and this was what happened when you slipped up and told him. You hadn't welcomed him here or made him food to prove a point. You didn't want this—this facade of domesticity when he was angry with you. You just wanted to know if you could fix what you had.

"You're my guest, you don't need to do the dishes," you said, following him into the kitchen, one hand on the tap pressing it shut as he tried to turn it on.

"Oh, I'm a guest now?" Kyungsoo turned around, close enough that he took over your field of vision. His large eyes narrowed at you behind his glasses, an unreadable expression growing on his face. You kept staring up at him; you were not going to be the one to look away first.

"You made yourself a guest when you implied I'd kick you out."

"Are you sure it wasn't before that?"

You crossed your arms, working to put some distance between the two of you. You didn't want to be so close you could feel his body heat even through the thick robe, but there you were—and really, there was nowhere for you to go, trapped in the narrow space between the counters in front of and behind you. "Yeah? Yeah, maybe it was when you cancelled all plans I tried to make with you for ages."

"I cancelled—and what about when you ignored me for days? I'm sorry, Kyungsoo, I was busy and didn't see your call, I'm sorry, I'm at work, I'm not feeling great, not today, I'm so sorry." His imitation of your pitch was high and false, and you could hear the irritation in voice, the way the frustration seeped into his words despite his even tone. You let out a breath. You had been ignoring him, and it had been intentional—but then, what were you supposed to do when he had done it first? He was being unfair, and he knew it, and you should too.

"Like you tried so hard to talk to me, huh? I tried—I texted you, I called, and you didn't respond! Not once! For three days straight!" you snapped back, moving closer as you tried to keep your own voice level.

"I—I had things to think about. I was busy. I was recording," he said, tone changing as he defended himself. You scoffed at the flimsy excuse, and he leaned into your space, glaring. "What excuse do you have? I knew you were home that day, by the way, I heard you come to the door and you knew I was here when I called you and what do you do? You text not home sorry."

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You hadn't realised he knew that day, that you were home—but then, he always had been perceptive. But you couldn't have opened the door for him that day. It had been five days since that night, and you had called and texted to almost complete silence for three whole days. It was a rejection, pure and simple, and you were broken up about it—of course you were. You'd been crying half the day when he'd arrived at your door, and you had seen the apology on his face from the keyhole. You didn't want him to see you crying, and you knew he'd hear your tears in your voice if you picked up, so you'd just texted.

You hadn't realised he had known. You would have been hurt too, if he had done the same.

Except, of course, he had. And you had been hurt. And you wouldn't have had to ignore him if he had just picked up your calls once, if he had just told you that day that he didn't return your feelings, if he had just let you down gently instead of disappearing and letting you take it as you liked.

"Fine," you said, stepping back. You swallowed heavily, trying to clear the blockage from your throat before you continued. If you kept thinking about this, you would get angry, and if you got angry you would cry. You didn't want to cry in front of him today. What you needed was space to calm down, and hopefully the possibility of fixing at least your friendship. "So we both ignored each other. Okay. We just need to—" you cut off, looking around you.

But Kyungsoo wasn't done. He grabbed your wrist as you turned to leave, and dropped it immediately like he'd been burned. You pulled it close to your stomach, circling it with your other hand as he started to speak. "I know I ignored you and that I shouldn't have, but you—you can't be like this, taking me in and worrying over me and taking care of me and then calling me a guest like I'm not your best friend. I've washed your dishes dozens of times, Y/N. I know it's awkward, and it's uncomfortable, but what did I do to—"

"You left!" If you hadn't been yelling earlier, you were now. "You just disappeared, you f—you left me!"

"And you lied to me!" He was yelling, too. He seemed to realise only a second later, and he took a wide step back, as wide as he could make it, entirely out of your space now. You stood, frozen on the spot, unable to look away from him. A moment passed, then another.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he said, clearing his throat. "I shouldn't have."

You nodded, leaving your kitchen space so there was a clear two feet of counter between the two of you. "I'm sorry, too. I got caught up in the whole—" you waved a hand about in lieu of explanation, and he nodded, apparently understanding. But then, the two of you always had understood one another. No words required. Maybe that was why he had disappeared without a word. He must have known you would understand. Tears pricked at the bottom of your eyes.

"You can do the dishes if you really want. I'll go get some extra blankets out," you said, and disappeared into the hallway.