#it looks so much like it but ??? idk what it really is? it’s kinda ambiguous

[seo-changbinnies]

Marie did Changbin get a Texas birthday cake just for you? I wasn’t able to watch the whole live I just saw bits so I don’t know what the cake shape was before he cut it but all I can see is an outline of Texas. He really did that for you and your cowboy Bin agenda didn’t he?

OMG IT KINDA DOES LOOK LIKE TEXAS 🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

[starlightkyeom]

34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda, v light) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.8k (idk what happened) warnings: art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, VERY ambiguous ending smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, multiple positions, unprotected sex (don't do this), slightly rough sex, mild dom!wonwoo?, fingering, oral sex, choking, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, light marking, semi-public sex, food play (whipped cream, chocolate), i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's world tour collab (check out the other fics here). i had so much fun writing this even if it got away from me a bit. thanks to @effortandmore for lending me her art brain. thanks to @highvern for constantly listening to me and @multi-kpop-fanfics for fit inspo. and as always, thank you to my bby @wongyuseokie for the banner & divider.

edited to add: i am considering an epilogue if that’s something anyone is interested in

tag list: @wonustars, @minisugakoobies, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @sdoulc, @wonwootakemyheart, @divinityyyy, @nightshadeinmoonlight, @imma-queencard, @jelly-n

“We’ll be landing in about 45 minutes, according to the pilot,” a voice says, interrupting your laser-like focus.

You look up from your tablet and blink at him for a second. It takes you a moment or two to register he’s even standing there. Another moment to register what he actually said to you a second ago. In the meantime, you switch the program open on your tablet.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in response. 

He sits down in the seat opposite you and fixes you with a smile. “Must be a good book, you’ve barely looked up for the entire flight.” 

“Guilty,” you say with a practiced smile. 

Chan, you think that’s his name, seems nice enough. A little overeager and too ready to agree to something when his bosses tell him what to do. There’s that real thirst to prove himself. But, at least from what you hear, he’s got a bright future. He’s done well with what he’s been given so far, which are increasingly difficult assignments. You can see why. He’s easy on the eyes and he’s got that soft smile down. The kind of unassuming smile that makes people want to trust him. If he can keep it up, he’ll go far. 

“Thanks again for letting me catch a ride,” you say to fill some of the space between you. 

Chan only shrugs. “Any friend of Mr. Choi’s is always welcome. Plus, nobody really says no when the boss says something.”

A lesser person would have probably laughed at that. Hearing him referred to as Mr. Choi and the boss is a little comical to you. Not that it isn’t true because he is definitely Chan’s boss. It’s just, well, it’s a little more complicated than that. 

“Honestly I don’t really even understand what Cheol does,” you lie and turn on a little bit of the charm. It’s always good to practice on people that are trained to be charming themselves. 

“Do you call him that?” Chan wonders.

“Call him what? Cheol?” you ask and Chan nods, eyes a little wide. It catches him just off guard enough. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. What do you call him?”

“Sir, usually,” Chan answers too quickly. You can’t fully fight the smile that answer brings to your lips. “Glad to see I entertained you.” 

“He’s not nearly as bad as I’m sure he seems at work,” you say like you’re sharing a secret.

The truth is that you’ve been hearing about this new agent that Seungcheol is personally training for over a year now. So, you know that eventually, you’re going to all be laughing at this conversation in hindsight and he’ll also be calling his boss Cheol. For now, though, things are a little bit different. 

“He mentioned that you were heading down to do some research?” he asks and you nod. 

This part has always been a little tedious to you, the part where you come up with a cover story that you even have to feed to other people within the same organization. It’s been this way for your entire career. You were recruited at 18 years old and went through special training along with obtaining a degree. The Agency had two divisions, but you only ever learned about the second one if you were recruited to work there. It was that second division you joined right away. 

Training had been grueling. If it wasn’t some kind of physical endurance training, it was sitting in a windowless room studying history or a foreign language. Or it was combat training with whatever weapon was on deck that day. Or working to blend into any situation. You quickly learned that did not mean not being memorable. At least not in every situation. Sometimes that meant looking at ease in your surroundings even if eyes were on you. Thankfully, the charm seemed to come naturally to you and that was one less thing you had to worry about learning. 

The Agency officially works in maintaining international relationships between countries. That can mean a number of different things. Sometimes it involves an agent or team heading out to a location as official representatives. They can help with negotiation, security concerns, smoothing out issues, anything really. Unofficially, it often involves going undercover on a mission. That can involve either division, depending on the sensitivity of the mission. If it’s simpler, then someone like Chan gets sent out to work his way into a situation and influence the outcome so that everything stays calm. In fact, he’s here to charm a wealthy heiress that’s getting a little too close to revealing confidential information on government contracts. 

You, on the other hand, are officially here to study Argentinian culture and immerse yourself in local traditions. Chan doesn’t know that you work for The Agency as well. He doesn’t know that Seungcheol is like a boss to you. It’s not his preference. Seungcheol misses the days when he was by your side in the field instead of stuck in the office behind a desk. Unfortunately, several years ago he suffered a severe injury that just made field work impossible for him. It took a lot of convincing, most of which fell on your shoulders as the person closest to him, to get him to transition to his current role. Where you had never set foot in the main offices, he had been there periodically. He was known to people there. And he was so insanely smart that you pointed out he would be bored trying to assimilate into regular life. Why not get to do one of his other favorite things and tell younger agents (or even older ones) what to do? That had been the biggest selling point because he was good at being in charge. It had been a bit of a rocky transition at first, but now it’s smooth sailing. 

Unofficially, you’re here tracking one of the most infamous art thieves in the world. This is the kind of thing that has to be handled with the utmost secrecy. Other agencies and your own have tried to track him down and apprehend him only to have him slip into the wind. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d assume that there had been leaks during the previous attempts. You’ve also considered that he’s just really good at making a mark and blending into his surroundings. This is one of the most secretive missions you’ve ever been sent on despite seeming relatively innocuous. How much harm can an art thief really cause, right? Except, The Agency is largely funded by private investors and several of those investors have been victims and had art stolen. Despite that, the only people that know you’re making this attempt now are Seungcheol and the head of covert operations. His counterpart doesn’t know that you’re handling it, or even who you are. Instead, the main division of The Agency has a team headed to Amsterdam thinking that they’re after the notorious thief. 

Although it seems like it should be straight forward, this thief has been working in the shadows for years without anyone really knowing what he looks like beyond him being a man. The reports about what he actually looks like vary so greatly that nobody really knows what to believe. You and Seungcheol have spent months trying to put together a profile that seems most realistic and you feel as comfortable as you can. His appearance seems a little elusive, but the information that he’s going to be in Buenos Aires is the best lead you’ve gotten. It comes from someone that you worked with on a previous mission. You had been studying your profiles when Chan came over and quickly exited to a different application. 

“I am. I’m working on understanding the history of Argentinian culture through the eyes of Buenos Aires for a project,” you say with all the affection of someone who was actually going to be doing that. “I’m going to spend most of my time just out talking to people, learning their stories, that kind of thing.”

“Do you, uh, speak Spanish?” Chan wonders with clear apprehension. 

“I do,” you say with a light laugh. “Be a bit awkward if I didn’t, right?” 

“That’s impressive,” he says. 

“I speak several languages,” you say nonchalantly and then make a show of catching his eye. “I studied language and culture in university.” 

“You’re not what I’d imagine for one of my boss’s friends,” Chan admits. “Especially one close enough to get added to the manifest.” 

You shrug. “I’ve known him for a long time.” 

“He doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of time for friendships or someone that you can ever really know,” Chan presses and you laugh.

“Married to the job, right?” you agree. “I’m a low maintenance friend. I spend a lot of time out of town for research, immersed in local culture. We’ve probably got more in common that you’d think.” 

“That makes a lot of sense,” he concedes, seeming to easily buy your cover. He stands up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

The rest of the flight goes smoothly and you say your goodbyes to Chan and the others from the flight once you get off the plane. As is the plan, you take your suitcases to a local taxi and head to your hotel, checking in under one of the many fake names you used when on a mission. The room is nice, too, even if it’s nothing all that extravagant. It’s just another part of the cover. 

Since it’s been a long day, you figure that you might as well just order room service and settle in for the night. It’ll give you the chance to start getting your body used to the local timezone. Not that your body really has a home timezone anymore with how you’re constantly on the move. But, you still don’t mind the idea of resting for the night. 

You’re incredibly thankful to be in Buenos Aires in July since it’s the coolest month. It makes it easier for you to just walk everywhere. Before leaving your room for your first full day in your new city, you double check your messenger bag to make sure everything is in there: camera, multiple lenses,  journal, tablet and keyboard, sunglasses, wallet, and all your little bits to make it look like a bag you wear all the time. You smile at the receptionist on your way out, letting her know that you’re going off to explore what the city has to offer. She seems happy to see that you look better rested than after your long travel day. Even if heading out is mostly a cover for your mission, it’s also a little true. This city has been on your bucket list to visit for years and you’re not going to waste what might be your only opportunity to explore. It might even make it more believable as you’re trying to blend into the crowds around you.

After spending several hours wandering around and taking in everything you could, you find yourself at a local cafe in the early afternoon to have a cup of coffee and a light lunch. The whole morning flew by in a rush of colors and culture. It’s so easy to be interested in everything that’s before you because it’s just so vibrant. So full of life. Such a juxtaposition of history, tradition, and new influences. It’s one of the first times you’ve been somewhere and had to remind yourself that you are actually on a mission. You’re not just there to sightsee and fall in love. 

There are a lot of tourists in the cafe, which doesn’t really surprise you. Most places in Buenos Aires stay open during the afternoon for tourism, but you know that cafes in smaller towns would close. You figure that most locals probably avoid shops during this time of day as well. It feels lucky when you spot an open table in the corner until another patron moves and you see there’s actually someone sitting in one of the seats. It’s an uncharacteristically awkward moment for you, especially given how confident you are with everything else, that he catches you mid-decision. His eyes meet yours before looking at the coffee in one hand and the plate in the other. When he looks back down at the table, it clicks into place before you can turn around. 

“You, uh, can sit…” he starts with deliberate slowness that shouldn’t be throwing you off even more. 

You shake your head to clear it and smile. “It’s fine, I don’t just speak Spanish.” 

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “Well, you can sit here.” 

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say and go to turn around.

“It’s busy. Are you going to just eat standing up?” he asks with a challenging raise of his eyebrow. 

“Well,” you start.

“I probably won’t be here much longer anyway,” he offers.

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged. 

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs. 

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look. 

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh. 

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.” 

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.” 

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures. 

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window. 

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. It’s convenient, though. Not that you expected to be talking to someone like him about photography.

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card. 

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles. 

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.” 

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel. 

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease. 

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “Besides, it wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.” 

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture. 

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.” 

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

And just like that, he’s gone. Slips into the crowd like he wasn’t even there in the first place. It makes you wonder, just for a second, if the entire exchange actually happened. Until you look back at the table and see the cup of coffee he had been drinking. Beside it, you notice a small piece of paper advertising a new installation at one of the local art museums. Not entirely out of the question, you think, for someone visiting this city and also interested in seeing your camera.

It’s then that you remind yourself why you’re actually here. You shake your head to clear it of any thoughts of the stranger, knowing you can’t make any effort to run into him again. The mission is the only thing that matters. Getting close to someone that could distract you in that way is not part of the plan. So, you can appreciate the banter and get back on track.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You continue to explore the city while always keeping your eyes and ears open for any indication of the art thief. It’s a little frustrating to not have much to go on, but you’re also one of the most patient agents and you know it’ll pay off eventually. Seungcheol keeps in regular contact, sending along each new nugget of information he’s able to find. Even if they’re seemingly insignificant, you file them all away, appreciating how hard you know he’s working given how few people know about the mission. He has to pull the relevant pieces to send to you without tipping off the team in Amsterdam. 

You’re also splitting your days. Making sure to get out to experience the local culture to maintain your cover, while spending just as much time locked away in your room so that you can do your own research. Everything points to him already being in the city as well. It also seems like this next heist might be two-fold for him. It appears that he’s got a client that wants a specific piece of art and that he’s also going to steal some pieces for himself to sell at later dates. It’s a bit unusual, from what you’ve been able to tell. He usually likes to keep each job simple to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. Then again, he’s been active for years and doing just fine. 

Today you decide to go to check out a museum that you’ve been putting off. It’s silly, but you didn’t want to show up there the day after that cafe since it seemed a little convenient to leave behind. You have to familiarize yourself with all the museums in the city, though, and it seems like this one could be your thief’s target. It has just the right amount of traffic. Just the right combination of popular pieces with lesser known artists. 

Once you’re there, you immediately move away from the popular sections. That’s not the kind of art you’re after because it’s not the kind of art the thief ever steals. It’s too recognizable. Too hard to move. Just too risky. Once you’re in a quieter part of the museum, you fight off any feelings of being a fraud. Art has never really been your strong suit. If it weren’t for this mission being so sensitive, you definitely would not be the first agent anyone would choose. But, it is sensitive and so you have to rely on your training to carry you through any conversations that might pop up. You have to rely on the hours spent pouring over lectures about the different styles and influences, the different periods, different techniques. Hopefully your talent at rote memorization will serve you well. 

“It’s a shame they keep one of the best artists tucked away in a corner like this,” a voice says from your side, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You answer without even thinking much about the voice or even turning to see the person who appeared next to you nearly soundlessly. “Makes it easier to appreciate in peace, though.” 

“You like surrealism, then?” he asks and it’s only then that you notice something familiar about the voice or the manner of speaking. Or the fact that he’s not speaking to you in Spanish. 

Before you even turn to your side, you know who you’re going to find. He’s looking just as put together and at-ease as he did several days ago in the cafe. His hands rest in his pockets, but his eyes on you are sharp. There’s something a little hard to read about him, you think. 

The smile you give him is practiced, designed to seem genuine. “I like Leonor Fini.” 

“You’ve got good taste,” he says and turns back to the piece. 

“I do like surrealism,” you carry on, turning back to the piece yourself as well, “but, with her work, I really appreciate the way she used female subjects through a female lens. Too many artists…”

You trail off, pretending you’re unsure if you should continue. He falls into the setup easily. “Men could only show female subjects through their own eyes, but women look different through the eyes of other women.” 

“Exactly,” you say and smile at him before turning back to the painting again. “There’s something so captivating about the work she did.” 

“I agree. That’s why this is my favorite piece here and in my favorite section of works,” he says confidently. 

“You already have a favorite?” you joke.

“Well, I’ve been here every day for the past several days,” he shares.

This makes you turn to him fully. “Because you love this section and this work so much?” 

This mysterious man actually looks down like he’s embarrassed to admit whatever he’s about to tell you. Like he’s gotten shy for a moment. “I do, but I was actually hoping to run into you.” 

That catches you a bit off guard and it takes your brain a minute to remember, once again, you’re here on a mission. “It would have been easier to run into me if you just asked for my number.” 

“Kind of ruins this whole mysterious thing I have going on, though,” he shrugs. 

You roll your eyes and extend your hand, giving him your fake name for the mission. His eyes sparkle for a second before he takes your hand. 

“Wonwoo,” he answers.

“Nice to finally get your name,” you tease.

“I figured you’d come check out the museum when I left the card there at the cafe,” Wonwoo says. 

“I knew that was on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yet you didn’t come until today,” he observes.

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy on you,” you throw out quickly.

“Okay, time to switch tactics, then,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?” 

“I’m not sure, can you?” you ask.

“Please let me take you to dinner,” he says.

It’s a bad idea and you know it. Everything about him screams distraction. This isn’t what you’re in Buenos Aires to do. Yet, there’s something about him that has you curious. There’s also the fact that this museum seems to be the most likely target for the art thief and this man admitted he’s been here every day. A small part of your brain is sending up alarm signals to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t seem like a secret art thief, but hasn’t your training taught you how to hide in plain sight? It’s entirely possible he’s doing the same.

Your brain goes into overdrive as it often does on missions. There are a million little details in the pages of your profile on the art thief. They come flooding back to you. The profile so thoughtfully pieced together by The Agency says he’s probably unassuming. The kind of man that fits into any situation in the same way as you do, like he’s not trying to fit in and it means he doesn’t stand out as not belonging. The profile suggests that he’s confident. That he would appear calm. Most importantly, he’s the kind of person that would absolutely look at home in the midst of art. So, whether it’s a good idea or not, you know you’re going to say yes. He must see the answer in your eyes before you voice it because he smirks. 

“What time?” 

Wonwoo offers to pick you up at your hotel, but you insist that you’ll meet him at the restaurant. It’s safer that way, after all, being a woman traveling alone. At least that’s what you tell him. Not that anything about Wonwoo seems that threatening and you’re better equipped to handle yourself than most. You just don’t need him anywhere near your room even with everything put away. After going back to get ready, you made time to pour over the information you have. The more you consider it, the more it seems plausible that he could be exactly who you’re looking for. There’s only one issue: he asked you out. Everything you have suggests that he made agents in the past and slipped into the wind. You’re not cocky enough to think you’re too good to fall victim to the same fate. You keep your update to Seungcheol vague in case the lead doesn’t pan out. 

Surprisingly, Wonwoo picks a nice place off the beaten path for dinner. It’s not overrun with tourists and it’s not too expensive. Like him, it’s unassuming but quietly impressive. You try not to let your heart skip a beat when you see him in a simple white dress shirt and black dress pants. He stands to pull your seat out for you and then settles back into his seat across from you. This is for the sake of the mission. Either he’s the person you’re looking for or you’ll have enjoyed a free and tasty meal. Nothing more to it. 

His Spanish, it turns out, isn’t that great and so you help him through ordering since it’s definitely a place more for the locals. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get your help. You’re not really sure you mind either way. He makes suggestions about which wines he prefers, but ultimately lets you pick, insisting that he will take care of whatever you land on. Once you get through ordering and all the small talk, it gives you a chance to really get to know him.

“Have you been here before?” you ask.

“This restaurant or this city?” he asks.

“Either,” you shrug.

“No to both,” he answers. “Clearly, my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’m so lucky that I found someone who’s so fluent.” 

“I’m not sure I believe you can’t speak the language,” you muse.

“I can speak enough Spanish to get by, but it’s not that good,” he assures you. 

“Interesting place to visit, then,” you observe.

“I’d miss out on a lot of beauty if I only went where I spoke the language fluently,” he retorts and you smile genuinely at that. He’s right. 

“Like the art in the museum?” you suggest.

“Or a charming stranger,” he counters. You’re impressed. “I do like the art as well, though.” 

“What other beautiful places have you visited?” you ask.

“Oh, I hardly think it’s that interesting,” he dismisses.

“Humor me,” you say. 

There’s a moment where he’s careful in listing off places. Like he’s weighing something that you can’t really place. He ends up listing some places that catch your attention. Each of them has some wonderful art museums and it piques your curiosity. You try to look just politely interested, commenting on how he’s lucky to be able to travel as extensively as he seems to. He plays it off with a vague comment about being fortunate with help from his family. It’s the kind of thing that you know passes on a first date. It’s not appropriate to mention money on a first date. So, that would be fine, if it didn’t also make you curious about who this man really was. After all, your art thief being well connected through family would definitely make sense.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, you try to enjoy it. Not that it’s hard to do. Wonwoo is actually a lot of fun to be around. The conversation flows easily and you’re able to connect on a lot of shared interests. At least, interests that you pretend to have for the sake of this mission. But, it feels like he might also be pretending on some of his interests. He’s just a little too calm and put together. A little too quick with his answers. A little too rehearsed with his comments. Maybe you wouldn’t think twice if you weren’t doing the same. 

By the time you finish the main course, you’re pretty sure that you managed to stumble into a date with the exact person that you’re here looking for based on his stories. It may have been a guess before. It feels nearly for sure  now. He mentions how you have to visit Japan when the cherry blossoms are blooming, which sounds stunning. He mentions Oktoberfest in Munich and how he barely remembers anything from that trip. Then there's the ice festival in China, Nordlysfestivalen in Norway, and a few other locations that sound beautiful. They also have one thing in common. Each place is also on your list for stolen art around the time of the events. 

Once you finish dessert, you’re making a decision that you know you should really clear with someone else before making. Sure, you’re pretty sure that Wonwoo is the art thief. And yes, it’s true that keeping an eye on him is in your best interest. One way to do that is to continue with the date. Yet, you’re not stopping to check in with Seungcheol. You’re not analyzing the pros and cons of doing this. After giving Seungcheol a vague update about a lead and promising you’ll have more information later on, he should be the first person you call. He’s not swept up in the atmosphere of a foreign city with a gorgeous stranger. No, you don’t do any of that. You’re just agreeing to go back to his room with him without a second thought. He’s painfully hot and you’re incredibly attracted to him, which is wildly unprofessional. But, you’re not sure you care. At least for the night. You can figure it all out later.

Wonwoo is quietly confident without being cocky. His gaze is so penetrating that it feels like he’s undressing you without it being slimy. He can hold a conversation about seemingly anything, but he’s also just as interested in what you have to say. In fact, you have his attention the whole night, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a little overwhelming to have someone so focused on you. But, when it feels a little overwhelming, he makes a perfectly timed, slightly sarcastic joke that makes you laugh harder than you should. The smile you wear all throughout the date is genuine. You’re actually enjoying yourself so much that you’re not sure you want it to end. Life has never felt so simultaneously complicated and easy.

Wonwoo’s lips are hot on yours as he cages you against the door of his hotel room. That intensity you saw all dinner reappears and you feel like you might burn under his touch. He’s so in control. You’re still not entirely sure how you wound up here, but you’re not really trying to think too hard about it. The fact that he’s almost definitely the art thief becomes an issue for future-you the second he kisses you like it’s your last day on Earth. It’s not like he knows you’re tracking his movements and it isn’t exactly a bad thing to keep a closer eye on him. Nor is it the first time you’ve done something like this. It is the first time you’ve done it without thought, though, and genuinely been interested in the man you let seduce you.

He has his body pressed against yours with his arms on either side of you so there really is nowhere to go. It’s kind of hot and you’re not even pretending to be turned on. A definite bonus. Your hands quickly undo his belt so that you can pull the edges of his shirt out. The moment your hands make contact with his skin, he pulls away and hisses. They’re likely cold, not that you care. It gives you the chance to catch his lower lip between your teeth. You watch his eyes darken with lust as you run your hands up his back, scratching down lightly. 

“Just who do you think is in control here, baby?” His voice is so low in your ear that it makes you swallow hard. Everything about the endearment sounds sarcastic and it shouldn’t work, but you’re only human. Then he nips at your earlobe and you actually moan. 

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenge. It feels like a lot of heat between you. If your head were clearer, you might consider that it feels like two people who know they shouldn’t be fucking. Almost like he’s punishing you a little, which he might want to, given why you’re here.

“That’s a dangerous question,” he warns you. 

“Afraid I can’t handle it?” you ask and watch the way it nearly breaks his composure. You press forward into him, pulling him down so his ear is by your mouth now. Barely raise your voice above a whisper. “I’m not that fragile. I can handle a little pain.” 

That seems to set him off. You’re worried for a second when he pulls away, but that disappears as you watch his nimble fingers rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt. He casts it aside and looks back at you. 

“I want you stripped naked and on the bed,” he commands. 

You’re not typically in the habit of taking commands but something about him makes you want to listen. Even if you want to challenge him a little. He turns his back and you do strip down. Mostly. You climb onto the bed wearing only your panties, legs spread open and waiting for him. When he turns around, you miss the flare of his nostrils at your defiance looking at his muscles. For someone so unassuming, he was certainly in good shape. 

“Is this your idea of naked?” he questions.

It’s funny, since he’s still got his boxer briefs on, though they leave little to the imagination. You can already see that he’s getting hard from the lead up. 

“I thought I’d leave that honor for you,” you say, injecting as much innocence as you can muster into every word.

Wonwoo looks at you for another long second before climbing onto the bed and getting between your legs. He pushes them further open and you bite down on your lip. 

“You don’t get to muffle those moans from me, sweetheart,” he teases, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

“Or what?” you challenge again.

He raises an eyebrow at you and pulls his hand away from your thigh. You’re about to whine when he brings it back in a sharp slap. 

“Shit,” you hiss. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. You nod with big eyes. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, yes, I liked it,” you rush out the second his finger traces a light line up your clothed cunt. 

“I can tell,” he snarks. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. He pulls his hand away and looks at you surprisingly soft for a second.

“Tell me if it is,” he repeats.

“I will,” you promise. 

“Good,” he says and hooks his fingers inside the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and casting them aside in one motion. “That’s better.” 

In another surprise, Wonwoo doesn’t dive right into your cunt the way you expect him to given how frenzied everything has been so far. Instead, he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh. Pausing occasionally to nip into the skin before running his tongue over the mark to soothe it. You’re writhing on the bed by the time his breath ghosts across your cunt. The chuckle is low and deep as you squirm when he moves to your other thigh. You’re going to die before he even touches you. 

“Jesus fuck, Wonwoo, if you don’t start eating me out…” you start, a hand winding into his hair.

He pops up and glares at you. “You’ll what? Did you already forget who’s in charge?” 

“I’ll…” you start, before cutting off with a sharp, “FUCK!”

He’s still got his eyes on you when his thumb runs quickly through your folds to press against your clit. There’s barely any movement but it anchors you in place. “That’s what I thought.” 

His kisses up your other thigh are much sloppier with a thumb still in place. It only makes you squirm more, searching for some kind of relief. When he finally gets to your lips, you expect he’s going to tease you again. You’re wrong. Again. His tongue dives into your pussy while his other hand keeps you spread open. This man knows what he’s doing and it’s immediately more than you’re expecting. You can’t stop your legs from snapping closed to box him in. That is, until he pulls his hands off you to spread your legs wide again, giving him the best access to you. It’s clear that he’s in charge and he wants you to know it. 

It’s everything you can do not to thrash around, but Wonwoo seems to be ready to help there. He’s got a hand on your stomach anchoring you down to the bed. You’re not even sure how he’s got enough hands to move them along your body the way he seems to. Without warning, he moves his mouth up to pay attention to your clit. And he doesn’t give you a break, sliding two fingers into you and immediately scissoring them open. He sets a brutal pace, curling his fingers to hit you where he seems to know you need him on some of the passes. 

“Fuck, Wonwoo, oh my god, fuck,” you scream out.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he sneers at you from between your legs.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan. “Your fingers, oh my god.” 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

In the next moment, you’re coming so hard you squirt over those amazing fingers of his. Your vision whites out around the edges and your toes are curling. It’s all you can do to catch your breath as Wonwoo’s fingers pump through the high. 

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard,” you admit.

“We’re not done yet,” he shares and the tone of his voice has you nearly clenching your legs together. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.” 

“So bossy,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You turn over anyway, though, and put your ass in the air. 

“This is a really good fucking view,” he says. You feel the bed dip when he gets back in place after removing his boxers. 

Wonwoo has one hand on your hip and the other is running up your back to press you down further. To help you get that perfect arch of your back. You wiggle your ass at him and are rewarded with a stinging smack. Your moan is muffled by the pillow, so you turn your head to the side. Already know he wants to hear you. When he smacks your other ass check, you nearly scream out.

“That’s it, I want to hear you,” he encourages. 

“Please, Wonwoo, just fuck me already,” you beg. 

“One orgasm wasn’t enough?” he asks and you can hear the cockiness in his voice. Bringing a ringing smack down on your ass again. You scream out at the sting. 

“No, I want you to split me open,” you whine. In any other situation you might be embarrassed by the admission, but not now. Not with him. Not when it’s so clearly turning him on. 

“Greedy little thing,” he comments. His fingers press into your cunt again and you nearly yelp. 

There’s no time to adjust when Wonwoo removes his fingers and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. With one snap of his hips, he’s fully inside you and you’re hissing. He’s bigger than you were guessing, even with the outline in his boxers. And he doesn’t give you a break as he starts fucking you hard. All you can hear is the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the mingled moans from both of you. You’re sensitive from both the pace and the earlier orgasm. Your legs feel like they would collapse under you if they could. 

As if the pace isn’t enough, Wonwoo snakes an arm around you to reach for your clit, rubbing circles into it at the same pace as his thrusts. You can tell he’s nowhere near close, but you’re about to lose control again and you’re not sure how to stop it.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, slower, I’m going to - fuck!” you whine out. 

“You gonna come again? So soon, baby?” he taunts. 

“I can’t - fuck, please,” you beg. “I’m so close.” 

“I want you to  make a mess of my dick the same way you made a mess of my fingers,” Wonwoo directs. 

“But you haven’t…” you start and Wonwoo removes his hand from your clit. You cry out at the loss until his other hand grabs your hair to yank you back against his chest. When it’s clear you’re not going to move, his hand moves from your hair to your throat.

“I want you to come for me. Right now. Show me how good I feel inside that tight pussy,” he directs.

It’s one of the most surprising reactions, the way your body immediately responds to him. He’s got you coming just as hard as the first time and he doesn’t give you a chance to second guess any of it. As the shocks rip through your body, you notice that Wonwoo does slow down his thrusts. Doesn’t pull out of you, though. You collapse forward and arch your back again so it’s easier to meet Wonwoo’s continued pace.

“You’re so good at listening,” he praises.

“Not usually,” you mumble into the pillow through the haze. 

“I must be special,” he says as he lazily fucks into you.

“Jesus Wonwoo, you can fuck me. I know you haven’t finished yet,” you grumble.

“In a rush to go somewhere?” he teases. 

“No, but it must be…well, I don’t know. Hard for you,” you mumble into the sheets. 

“I’ve got excellent control,” Wonwoo says, all confidence. “I’m not in a rush to end this.” 

Despite your instance, he continues to lazily snap his hips into you. It’s so slow, way too slow. He reaches down to pull you up against his chest again, still keeping the pace. His hands are on your breasts, squeezing them to anchor you to him. He rolls one of your nipples roughly between his fingers to see what he gets as a reaction. Your moan seems to spur him on further. Each time pain shoots through some part of your body, it only seems to turn you on more. It’s easy to forget why you agreed to this in the first place. 

For all the demands, Wonwoo is actually very attentive as well. He peppers kisses from behind your ear all the way down your shoulder and back, paying special attention to the areas that seem to get the best response from you. He’s also careful with where he nips you, never biting hard enough to leave a mark somewhere that couldn’t be easily hidden. The entire experience has been so all-consuming that there isn’t space for any other thoughts in your head. It’s just him and this hotel room that’s entirely too fancy. 

He must feel that you’re starting to get worked up because he pushes you back down into the bed. His pace finally picks up again, which is good because you’re sprinting towards being too sore to actually enjoy it anymore. The pace gets much faster again, not nearly as rhythmic as before. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts. It’s the first time it actually feels like he’s losing control. 

“Oh my god,” you cry out. “I’m gonna come again. Oh my god!” 

“Me too,” he groans through a stuttered breath. “Fuck, where can I come?” 

“I don’t care,” you cry out. You’re about to have your third orgasm. “On my back, on my ass, I don’t fucking care, just come with me.” 

You press a finger to your clit to try and help you over that last bit to tumble over the edge so that Wonwoo can chase his own relief. The second your body starts shaking, you feel him pull out. He must pump his cock a few times because there’s a slight delay before you feel something hit your back. You feel a little proud with how much cum you feel on your skin, like maybe he was a little more affected by you than he wanted to let on. 

As soon as Wonwoo lays down next to you on the bed, you also collapse onto your side. The bed is soft, but your knees are still a little sore from spending so much time on them. Wonwoo immediately pulls you into him so that he can kiss you breathless. His hand is behind your head, keeping you from pulling away. The chemistry between the two of you is intense. Not something you were prepared for. It’s clear that if one of you doesn’t stop, then you’ll be fucking him again. And your body needs a break.

“I should get cleaned up,” you say when you pull back, more than slightly breathless. 

“Let me just get cleaned up a little and then you can take a shower,” he says. 

He presses a kiss to your temple and then gets up off the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He’s all lean lines and unexpected muscles. Nobody should be allowed to look the way he does, to look so good that Greek gods would be jealous. And yet here he is. 

A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom and arches an eyebrow at you. There’s a towel slung low around his hips in a way that should be a sin. “You’re going to make me think that you want more.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to stand,” you joke as an answer.

It surprises you a little when he comes over to the bed and helps you up. That is, until you see the way his eyes take you in. There’s nothing soft there, only predatory. Like you’re a meal he wants to return to. Your brain still feels a little slow to catch up, but registers something like he’s analyzing you. Still, he helps you get to the bathroom, points out the toiletries, and then disappears back into the room. 

By the time you’re clean and wrapped in the softest bathrobe you’ve ever worn, Wonwoo is sitting at the table wearing shorts and his glasses with nothing else. He’s scrolling absently through his phone and picking at some snacks that hadn’t been there when you had gone to shower. You didn’t think you’d been in there long, so it’s surprising he was able to get something up so quickly. When he notices you’re out of the bathroom, he indicates the food.

“I ordered us some snacks and they were happy to get them up here quickly,” he says. 

You take a seat across from him a little apprehensively. This is the part that you hadn’t really considered. How do you excuse yourself from the situation in a way that ensures you’ll see him again? It’s not that you want to have a repeat, though there’s part of your brain that is not opposed like you should be. It’s just…well with the room and the toiletries and the fast room service, you’re sure that this is the man you’re looking for. Which, admittedly, might make things a little complicated. But, you do have a job to do.

“I guess I am hungry,” you admit and reach for something.

“Glad you’re not going to make me eat alone,” he muses. 

“You already paid for dinner and drinks, I wasn’t expecting more treats,” you admit. 

“Seems fitting after the mindblowing sex,” he says and watches you, a clear glint to his eyes. “I can’t get over how insanely hot it was to watch you squirt for me.” 

Your cheeks redden without your permission. He’s so free with admitting it even with the moment having passed. Maybe he’s more trouble than you realized. 

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one to enjoy myself if my back is any indication,” you toss out. 

“I really enjoyed the way you told me I could come on your back,” he shares.

“And my ass,” you remind him.

“I got that too,” he reminds you. “And what a nice ass it is.” 

“Careful or I’ll ask you to blow my back out again,” you say, voice slightly betraying that you’re affected by his very presence. 

“That makes me think you were going to head out and never see me again,” Wonwoo ventures.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say, trying to be coy.

Wonwoo fixes you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. It nearly makes you squirm under the intensity. Is he just like that? The kind of person that does everything with that burning look in his eyes. 

“Let me ask you something, Agent,” he begins and your mouth runs dry. You do everything you can not to let him know that you’re a second away from losing it. “Do you fuck all your targets? Or am I special?”

The way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows he’s onto something. Knows exactly who you are. Or maybe who you work for, at least. He’s made you and you’re not entirely sure you’re safe anymore. You’re also not entirely sure what the best move is. Probably take half a second too long to decide if his face is any indication. 

“Agent? Target?” you laugh out. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Don’t you?” he presses. “Really, we shouldn’t be lying to each other so early in the relationship.” 

“I’m here doing…” you start.

“Research, yes. That’s what you said. And you almost had me when it took so long to run into you again. Your Spanish is flawless. It doesn’t sound like someone that learned at some secret agency. You’re much better at languages than any of the other agents that have come after me. And waiting so long to meet me again, genius. It really had me second guessing who you were,” he says. “But then, you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?” 

“Going on a date with someone that’s clearly a little delusional?” you ventured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, confident. “I’ll tell you where you fucked up. It was dinner tonight. No, not something you said or did because you were shockingly smooth with it. It’s that you agreed to it at all. I suggested a place no researcher would ever go to. Because it used to be the site of a religious monument, but it fell into disrepair. A local crime family took it over. Only locals bother going there, but no researcher ever would.” 

Your heart sinks. Through all your research and all your planning, you knew that you would never be able to get everything. There just wasn’t the time. So, you had to hope that the person you were chasing wouldn’t notice any small missteps. Or would write them off with your cover story. What you had not planned for was this. In all your careful consideration, you had not planned to go on a date with the art thief himself. He had you and he knew it. It’s hard to see the right path out of this. 

It had been a gamble to get close to him the way you had. A gamble that you questioned taking and took anyway. A gamble you took without clearing it with Seungcheol. Usually, getting close to a target this way, you talk to him to make sure that he thinks it’s a good idea too. Make sure that this kind of move will fit the profile for the person that you’re chasing. This time, you’re flying blind. You had gotten a little ahead of yourself. A little sloppy. This isn’t the type of work you’re known for. It’s not the reason that you were sent down to Buenos Aires to chase him on a secret mission. 

“One mistake,” you sigh with a shake of your head. 

“Yeah, just the one,” he agrees. 

“So why did you invite me back here?” you ask. 

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m curious about you.” 

“Curious? You risked inviting me back to your actual hotel room over curiosity?” you ask, looking around. 

“Who’s to say this is actually my room?” he says with another casual shrug. You clock it on his face as soon as he says it. 

“No, it is your actual room. The comfort, the speed of the room service, the way things are laid out. It’s not staged. This is just where you’re staying,” you observe. That makes him smile in a way you’re not expecting.

“Good eye,” he agrees. “Now for my question. Do you fuck all your targets?” 

“No,” you say shortly. 

“Why even agree to go on a date with me, then?” he presses. 

You sigh and sit further back into your chair. Take a piece of fruit from the table to buy yourself some time. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a good decision, obviously. I wasn’t even sure you were my target. There was just…something about you.” 

“So you’ve never fucked a target before? I’m special?” he asks with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” you respond. “I just don’t usually fuck a target without clearing it first.” 

“Who knows you’re here with me?” he asks.

“Nobody,” you answer. It’s too honest. 

You’re not sure if you should have admitted that and even less sure if he’ll believe you. It is the truth, though. Nobody in the world knows where you are right now. It’s kind of a crossroads for you because Wonwoo isn’t dangerous. He’s never been violent, as far as your information shows. Despite being physically separated from your bag, you’re not exactly unarmed. And yes, he does look like he’s in shape, but you’re still confident that you can take him if it comes to that. Once again, your mind is running through a million calculations a second as you realize you definitely should have talked to Seungcheol. 

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he admits.

“How’s that going?” you ask sarcastically. 

“Not as well as it would normally,” he says. It’s something else that’s honest between the two of you. More honest than you’re expecting. “Most people are too easy to figure out. It’s boring. Nothing about you makes sense to me.” 

“And what about me is so difficult for you to figure out?” you ask, still lacing your words with sarcasm. 

“You know, despite me figuring out that you’re after me, you’re actually the best agent that they’ve ever sent. You fit into your role seamlessly. You’re just the right amount of charming. You blend into your surroundings because you don’t try to do anything to dull yourself. Against my better judgment, I am impressed. And yet, you still decided to come on the date. You’re clearly the best they have and you’re still here,” he says, gaze soft but analytical on you. 

“I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” you say carefully. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“You disarm me,” you admit. “I know so much about you and yet, here I am. Unwilling to leave even though you know what I’m here to do.” 

“Do you still want to turn me in?” he asks.

“Are you going to disappear into the wind the second I walk out that door?” you counter. 

He regards you for a moment. A moment too long, really. It makes you squirm in your seat. This isn’t going at all how you would have imagined. “No.” 

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m waiting to see how this whole thing plays out. You haven’t said that you want to turn me in. I can see you’re conflicted about it. So, I’m going to see how this plays out,” he answers. He holds up a hand when you open your mouth. Seems to predict you’re going to ask why again. “Because…okay, look. I know this is really weird. I know you’re here to try and find me. But, you’re actually interesting and that sex was fucking good. So, I don’t know, call me cocky. I’m not ready to let you walk away just yet.”

“If I can walk at all,” you grumble. 

“You were walking just fine from the bathroom. Maybe I need to really make sure you can’t walk,” he muses. 

The eye contact is too much and you turn your head away. You’re positive he’s onto you, especially when you carefully cross your legs. It’s just that he’s right, isn’t he? You can sit here and pretend that you only slept with him to keep him close while you tried to figure him out. Can say that it was all just part of the job and you didn’t enjoy it. Can say that you wanted to take a different approach since nobody else has been able to catch him.

That’s also very clearly a lie.

Seungcheol likes to know what his agents are up to, particularly when it comes to agents like you that deal with secret missions. Since you started as friends before he had to retire to his desk, he’s also very protective of you. He hates it when you suggest using your charm on a target like this. So, no, this isn’t just another target. This is something else entirely. You have to admit that you actually enjoyed it. That you would like to do it again. That you actually don’t even want to leave his room because you’re not convinced you’ll ever see him again. Which is really stupid, isn’t it? You should not care if you never see him again. Unless it means that you failed your mission. That’s not why you’re worrying about never seeing him again, though. 

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something else, your phone chirps from your bag. It’s a sign. You know it is. The sound is tied to Seungcheol. Which means he’s looking for a check-in. Which means you’re late, something that never happens with you. You’re standing up to get your phone before even realizing it. Wonwoo’s eyes track your movements. 

Cheol: hope you’re enjoying your trip! Send pictures when you can

It’s code. Sent through a normal message so that it doesn’t look suspicious. And so that it gives you the chance to ignore it if you’re not in a place where you can answer him. You don’t even hear Wonwoo approach as you’re mentally calculating how to respond to this.

“Is that code?” he asks and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his low voice by your ear. God, nobody should have a voice like his.

“It’s my handler, I guess you could say,” you answer.

“Are you going to call him?” he asks.

“He’ll worry if I don’t,” you say and realize it’s true. 

Wonwoo steps around you to grab his own phone and then returns to his position at the table. “I’ll be quiet if you want to call.” 

There’s something kind of hot about how he says it. Like he doesn’t actually want to let you leave. Or like it’s an order to stay. You’re not sure if you’re reading too much into it. When you look over at him, his eyes are on his phone, but his lips turn up in a smile. He knows your eyes are on him and he’s still playing a game. A game that you just might lose, for the first time in your life. 

With a sigh, you shake your head and just fire off a text in response. You don’t have it in you to call Seungcheol and you also aren’t exactly sure what to say. He’s always been able to read your tone like it’s his own. After telling him you might have a lead, he’s going to know something is wrong. This is going to be a problem.

You: it’s been amazing, i’m loving each new thing i get to see in person. I’ll have some pictures to show you tomorrow!

It’s a signal that you’re not going to have anything new to share with him tonight and not to contact you again until you check in the next day. You’re not really sure if this is the right decision, but you need time to clear your head. This is the only way that you can see getting that. It’s too hard to think about making a decision when Wonwoo is still half naked and looking at you like you’re prey. At least you can assume that you could take him if you needed to. Thankfully, he’s not really looking at you like that kind of prey. 

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say.

“And what will you do tonight?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you.

“I’m all yours, at least for tonight,” you say. 

You’re surprised the look he gives you doesn’t melt you into the floor. “I can work with that.”

The next day brings more confusion than the night before. At least you’re back in your own hotel room and out of the intoxicating orbit of Wonwoo. The downside is that you couldn’t leave his bed without agreeing to lunch plans with him. Both of you wanted to get breakfast together, but hadn’t been able to get out of bed in time for that. You turned down his offer to just buy you new clothes so you wouldn’t have to leave his sight. Thankfully, he does seem to understand that you need a minute to process everything in the last 24 hours. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

That’s not what you need to focus on right now, though. You don’t have any more messages from Seungcheol, which is what you expected. Still, you need to call him before he doesn’t something to check on you. Like sending Chan to your hotel with some made up story. You don’t want to put anyone in that position. You also don’t really know what you’re going to say. When you left Wonwoo’s hotel room, he made it clear: the choice was yours. He wants to see you again and he also knows that he’s asking a lot. Too much, probably. So, he’s giving you a choice. If you show up at lunch to meet him, then you’re at least willing to get to know him a little more before deciding anything. If you stand him up, then he’ll know you can’t agree to that. It’s a major gamble for him because you know what he looks like and his real name. You have more than you need to put an end to years of his hard work. 

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this. Not really. Sure, you train for missions and you perfect your skills. But, emotions have never been part of it. It’s always been so easy to separate your humanity from your job. Kind of like you just switch of anything that makes you normal and go into mission-mode. You once compared it to being an actor because you’re just playing a part. None of it is real and none of it is really your decision. This is uncharted territory for you.

Once you catch your breath, you pull a device out of the secret pocket in your bag so that you can connect it to your phone. It’ll scramble the signals and make the line secure so that you can call Seungcheol. It’s a bit of normalcy that you’re craving in the madness around you. 

“Finally, I’ve been worried,” Seungcheol answers. 

“I answered you right away,” you point out.

“Yes, to say that you would not be calling me,” Seungcheol presses and you sigh.

“Because I don’t have anything new to report,” you say without even realizing when you made the decision. The lie flows so easily. “I’ve been cataloging everything on everyone I see at the museums and galleries. Cross checking the names coming into the country. Surveying anyone that sticks out as I check things out.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol cuts in.

“I’m here to find him, though,” you point out. You’re not sure why you’re doing this. 

“I know,” he says. “But, I’d rather you be safe.”

“I’m always safe,” you lie. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to pick up on it. 

“I know, but I also know you’re competitive,” he says. “Remember, we’ve already sent no less than 6 teams to find him and they’ve all failed.” 

“I don’t fail, though. That’s why you sent me,” you say. You’re not even sure why you’re arguing with him. 

“Just be careful. What happened with that lead you thought you had?” he asks. 

“A dead end,” you say with a practiced sigh. “Does the intelligence say he’s still in the city?” 

“I can’t imagine he’d leave without taking anything,” Seungcheol says. 

“Good point,” you say. “I’ll keep looking.” 

“Do you want me to send back-up?” he asks.

“It’s your mission,” you say noncommittally. “If you think it’ll help and we can still fly under the radar, then by all means.” 

“I was thinking of Chan since he’s still kind of in the area,” he says.

“Ah, yeah, I’m not sure,” you admit.

“You’re right, I know. I do want you to formally meet him soon, though. But, definitely not mid-mission,” he agrees. “Just be careful and keep me updated. If it goes on too long, we’ll just pull you. Maybe he got spooked.” 

“Yeah, that works,” you agree. 

“See you when you’re back,” he says.

“See you,” you answer and hang up.

It feels awful to lie to him, of all people. He’s one of the only people that you’ve ever trusted in your life. The only one that knows exactly who you are, knows all your demons, and still accepts you. He knows just how many people are six feet under because of you, knows the ways you’ve had to use your body, knows the lies you’ve told and the people you’ve hurt, both physically and emotionally. He knows all your scars and he accepts it. Because you know all his scars, too. It sucks to lie to him.

Sometimes they say that indecision is still a decision. That’s where you are now. You can say that you haven’t made a decision about what you’re going to do with Wonwoo. You can say that you’re waiting for more information. But, in a way, you’ve made at least one decision in his favor. You didn’t tell Seungcheol that your lead turned out to be the art thief himself. No. Instead, you’re showering and getting ready to meet him again, about to make yet another decision. Maybe you were always going to agree to lunch rather than stand him up. He’s got a lot to lose here too. It’s far more complicated than it should be. 

Your head is a little in the clouds by the time you leave your room to head down to the lobby and out into the comfortable winter air. If you spend a little more time than strictly necessary making sure you look nice, well that’s your business. The only drawback is that you don’t have Wonwoo’s phone number, at your own insistence, and so he may think you decided to stand him up. That worry lasts as long as it takes for you to reach the lobby. That’s where you see him, sitting casually in an armchair with his eyes locked on you. There’s no reason for the way your heart skips over such a simple outfit. It’s just a t-shirt and a leather jacket. Why are you nearly losing your mind?

“What are you doing here?” you ask and he gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. It probably even puts your own smile to shame.

“I took a chance that you would decide in my favor,” he says and stands up.

“Confident,” you say, “but still, I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant since I hadn’t decided.”

“It’s a date. I’m picking you up,” he says and surprises you by placing a gentle kiss on your cheek . 

“Isn’t that chivalrous of you,” you comment while trying to convince your heart to stop beating out of your chest. 

“Shall we?” he asks and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

The chivalry doesn’t stop at picking you up at your hotel, unfortunately for you. He opens the door and then gently takes your hand. There’s a hand on your back when you step around him. He puts himself between you and any traffic. It’s the best anyone has ever treated you and you hate that you’re even noticing that. Now, you’re thinking that you should have stood him up for an entirely different reason.

Lunch feels like the most normal thing in the world. The real reason for being in this beautiful city doesn’t come up at all. Instead, you talk about life and interests. The type of music and food that you like. What you do in your free time. It’s exactly what you imagine first or second dates to be like. Not that you have much experience with actually dating. 

It only gets deeper from there with Wonwoo telling you more about himself. Not about how he really makes money, but it certainly helps you understand how he got involved and how he stays under the radar. As it turns out, he comes from a lot of money. He doesn’t say it in a way that sounds like he’s bragging. It makes sense, though. Everything about him screams old money, which fits the profile you put together. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, the way he dresses. It doesn’t feel like someone that’s made his money from stealing art. You learn that he’s involved in a lot of charities, which surprises you a bit. You also learn that he sponsors students in a video game design program in his home country. There’s so much more to him than stealing art. In fact, that seems to be such a small part of who he is. It’s more than a little surprising, which is odd since it’s usually so hard to surprise you. It’s clear that he’s grown up around art. All this time and he’s just been hiding in plain sight. 

The two of you sit at lunch for so long that the servers finally, very politely, indicate that it’s time to leave. It’s never been this easy to sit with someone in your entire life. It’s a level of comfort that you should absolutely not feel with someone like Wonwoo. But, you can’t help it. You can’t help the way you feel around him. Can’t really fight the feelings that keep threatening to bubble up. 

The roads aren’t nearly as busy when you walk back towards your hotel. Even though it’s a tourist city, it still quiets down in the mid-afternoon when the local businesses close down. The tourists seem to use the time to also relax or take advantage of certain monuments being quieter. It lends itself to the comfortable silence that settles around you and Wonwoo on the walk. 

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face Wonwoo and your breath catches a little. The sun in July isn’t as strong, but it still provides a backlight like he’s some sort of dark angel. Which sounds insane, even if your head. There have been so many beautiful people in your life, yet this is the one that has you forgetting how to put words together. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking when he steps into your space and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you so fiercely that you forget your name. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t look like much from the outside, but changes your entire world on the inside. 

“Well how am I supposed to go back to my room and leave you now?” you ask against his lips when he pulls back. You can feel the smile on his own lips when he kisses you again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers. 

“No,” you whisper back and kiss him again.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he says. 

That makes you pull back sharply so that you can search his face. Does he realize how that sounds? It makes you wonder if he means more than just tonight. What is he trying to do to you? How many ways can one man make you reconsider everything you stand for? Nothing about his face looks smug or even insincere. In fact, he looks the way you imagine you feel. A little smitten and a lot unsure of what to do next. 

“And what would I do instead?” you ask, though you have an idea where he’s going.

“Go pack a bag of some of your things and come stay with me for the next few days,” he requests. It’s just bordering on a demand, even though it’s clearly your call. 

“Are you crazy? We barely know each other,” you protest without much heat. 

“What better way to get to know each other?” he counters. He grabs your hips, pulling you close to his body so he can wrap his arms around you. “And think about it. I can see you’re still not sure what you want to do. If you’re with me, you’ll know where I am at all times. I can’t get into any trouble while you’re still deciding.” 

“I suppose you do make a point,” you concede. 

“I have never done anything this reckless in my life. So, I’m just asking for a chance,” he shares.

It’s a little insane for him to say this is the most reckless thing he’s done in his life. Surely, stealing art is crazier than this. Which would make you lean towards not believing him if it weren’t for the voice in the back of your head. That little voice that agrees with him. You’ve put your life in danger more times than you can count, but saying yes to the man in front of you feels like the most dangerous idea yet. Maybe it’s because you know it’s not your body you’re putting on the line, but your heart. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he means too. That he’s never taken the chance to chase someone like this. Or maybe you just want to believe that you might be special. 

All you can do is nod at him and watch the smile that breaks across his face. It’s honest, unguarded. It’s real. There’s nothing behind it except genuine happiness that you agreed to spend the next few days with him. Before you can second guess your decision, you give him one more kiss and nearly run up to your room. 

Being separated from him gives you the chance to actually catch your breath. To focus on what you need to bring with you. Since, apparently, you’re not going to reconsider if this is actually a good idea or not. You know you should. You know that this is another one of those moments that you chalk up to indecision when your actual decision could not be any louder. Again, you’re reminded of what you’re doing here. What you’re supposed to be doing here. This man is your enemy. He’s the person you’re supposed to be arresting and bringing into The Agency to face sentencing. You’re a good agent. You always put the mission ahead of yourself, your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your relationships. This isn’t a version of yourself that you recognize and it should stop you in your tracks.

Instead, you decide which dress to pack away and what pair of shoes looks best. For the first time in your life, you’re diving in first and asking questions later. Or never. 

It shouldn’t be surprising that you end up naked in Wonwoo’s bed minutes after crossing the threshold to his hotel room. Not with how things have gone so far for the two of you. Yet, what is surprising is that the sex is even better than the night before. You’re catching your breath, tucked into Wonwoo’s side, body tacky with sweat but so impossibly happy. His hand that’s around you absently traces patterns into your skin. It’s honestly like you’ve known him for years. It’s insane to realize how comfortable you feel when that’s not something you ever experience. Not like this. 

It’s also shocking to you how much this man wants to share with you. He carries on your chats from lunch as if he hadn’t just fucked you into his mattress yet again. Like this means more than some dirty sex holed up in a hotel in a foreign city. Makes you feel like you might actually mean something to him, which is a very dangerous feeling to have. Both of you know that this can’t mean more than what it is. At least, you think you know that and you think he might too. But, there’s a clear understanding that you won’t talk about it. Not now, at least. 

Wonwoo decides that he wants to take you somewhere fancy for dinner. The type of place that you would never consider going to while on a mission. Though, you’re always prepared for anything. When you were packing up your things in your hotel room, you even grabbed a couple nicer dresses. All they needed was a quick steam, which the hotel staff had been only too happy to accommodate. Any protests about it being too much fell on deaf ears. He was set and the two of you were going to a famous restaurant. All you had to do was shower and get ready. Your dress would be ready by the time you needed it. 

It’s clear you don’t really understand the limits to Wonwoo’s wealth, if there even are any, when you arrive at the restaurant. It’s the kind of place where you usually need reservations well in advance. It’s not the kind of place you can just show up at. Despite that, the host leads you back to a semi-private area where you’re tucked into a corner booth. It’s clearly one of the nicest tables in the place. You think you catch Wonwoo sliding the host something when he shakes their hand before he turns back to you. All thoughts go out the window when he slides in right next to you, not leaving any space. 

Wonwoo’s Spanish really is very remedial and so you help him decipher the menu and order. It gives you pause when there aren’t prices anywhere on the menu, but he’s quick to wave off any concerns. Insists that it’s his treat. You don’t want to think that’s something you could get used to. It isn’t like you have any real trouble affording nice things. Your salary is high and you don’t have much to spend money on. This is a different level, though. It’s even different from the times you’ve gone on a mission and charmed your target. That always feels temporary. Like you’re something of an imposter. You don’t get those feelings here with Wonwoo.

Letting him pick out which outfit you wore may have been a mistake. You discover this once you get your drinks and the waiter leaves you alone. His hand rests possessively on your thigh, against the bare skin of your leg exposed by the slit in your dress. His body is angled towards you and he’s encouraging you to continue telling your story. But, he has to know he’s distracting, too, with the way his hand slides further up your thigh. What started as arguably innocent ventures quickly into dangerous territory. 

“You were saying?” he prompts. His hand is inside the fabric of your dress now, keeping you from pressing your thighs together like you want to. 

“I, uh…” you stutter as he digs his hand into the soft flesh there. “Wonwoo, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” he asks innocently.

“Getting caught,” you hiss and look down at your lap.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not worried,” he says and you glare at him, “because you’re going to be good for me and be quiet.”

“I don’t know…” you start and stop as soon as his pinky grazes along your entrance through your panties. “Fuck.” 

“Doesn’t seem like you actually want me to stop,” he points out.

“I, fuck, you know I don’t but there are people,” you say softly.

“I paid good money for this table. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed,” he tells you. 

“I…” you start. When he pulls his finger away, you nearly whine.

“I need to hear you say you want it,” he says.

“What?” you ask, a little louder than you intended.

“Use your words,” he directs and you glare.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, earning a chuckle out of him. 

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“Fine, yes. I want your fingers inside me here in this damn restaurant,” you say.

He’s expecting this answer. It’s written all over his face. This time, he doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t waste any time because you may not have much of it. He simply pushes your panties to the side and slides his first finger into you. The angle doesn’t make it easy but his fingers are long and slender, like they were built for something like this. It’s hard to keep from making a sound, so you try to do anything to distract yourself from the way he pumps into you. Or the way he adds a second finger so quickly. 

When you pick up your drink to take a sip from the straw, you watch his eyes on you. They seem to darken the second that you wrap your lips around the straw. His fingers pump into you even faster. And his lips are demanding on yours when you set the drink back down. You moan softly into his mouth without really considering if anyone is paying attention or if they can hear you. His tongue tangles with yours frantically while he tries to get you off right in that booth. 

This is new for you. You definitely didn’t think you would get so turned on by the fact that anyone could walk back over to see what you were doing. Anyone could hear the noises you’re making. Anyone could figure it out. When he feels that your pussy clenching around his fingers, he pulls away from the kiss. Leans his forehead against yours so that he can whisper filthy things in the space between you. Tells you how good you feel and how he loves watching you when you’re about to come. Moans about how tight you are. How pliant you are for him. Reminds you to be quiet. Tells you he can’t wait to taste you on his fingers. That’s what finally pushes you over the edge.

Your fingers grip the edge of the booth underneath you as you come hard and fast. He lazily guides you through it and then follows through by bringing his fingers to his lips. It’s so hot that you consider asking if you can just leave and go back to the room to be fucked properly. But, then your stomach rumbles and you think better of it. It’s only another few minutes before the first course arrives with a slightly knowing look from the waiter. After that first course, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up, at least a little. You deem your panties ruined and just remove them, tucking them away into your bag. You’ll have to be a little more careful the rest of the night.

This dinner is somehow even better than the first and it has nothing to do with the place being expensive, though the food is definitely amazing. You also don’t think it really has anything to do with the way Wonwoo fingered you under the table. That’s definitely a first for you. Exhibitionism hasn’t been your thing before, but maybe he’s got you learning new things about yourself. It had only taken him a minute to realize that you weren’t wearing underwear anymore. It definitely took him another minute to regain his composure.

The thing that actually makes this dinner better than the first is the man across from you. With his walls down, the entire night just feels that much more. It’s one of the only times you’ve ever felt your own guard come down. It’s not smart and you don’t care. You think you probably look a little punch drunk to anyone that can see your table. Then, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes again and think he probably looks the same. You never really have the chance to enjoy dates, but even if you did, this would still probably top them all. It’s all the little things. The way Wonwoo carefully brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The way he offers you a bite off his own plate when you say it looks good. The way he brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses feather light kisses to them. 

“Are you going to insist on ordering dessert here too?” you ask after the main course. 

“I was thinking we might have dessert back in our room,” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Our room?” you question.

“Don’t test me,” he cautions. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say and lean into him to press a slow kiss to his cheek. Your hand brushes over his lap as a way to get closer.

“Is this you not testing me?” he asks when your hand brushes across his lap again.

“What? You can make me come on your fingers but I can’t tease you a little?” you ask innocently.

Wonwoo grabs your hand and anchors it on your own thigh. “We’re getting out of here and then you can show your appreciation however you want. We don’t need to give them more of a show.” 

It seems like it takes an eternity to pay the bill (which Wonwoo doesn’t let you see) and get a cab back to the hotel. The promise of something else simmers between you the entire time. Wonwoo keeps a hand on you the entire time. A hand on your lower back out of the restaurant, fingers intertwined with yours in the cab, an arm around you walking into the hotel. When you get into the elevator, he pulls you back against his chest as more people join. He masks it as affection and presses a kiss to your cheek, but you feel the desire beneath it. 

The moment you cross into the room, you slip out of your shoes and turn around to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. The tension between the two of you is thick and it’s hard to remind yourself to come up for a breath. He overwhelms every one of your senses. There’s nothing but him in every corner of your brain when he kisses you like that. 

It’s almost embarrassing when he breaks the kiss and you chase his lips. “How about dessert?”

“I thought that was just your way of saying…” you start and he directs your attention to the table. There’s an assortment of fruit, whipped cream, and melted chocolate there. 

You’re a little hesitant when he starts to walk to the table. It just feels incredibly intimate, which is true for a lot of what's happened with Wonwoo. But, this still feels different. It feels like more, once again. Wonwoo realizes that you’re not behind him and turns back to you. He closes the space between you yet again and places a hand on your cheek, impossibly soft. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks. 

“I’ve never done…this,” you say softly into the quiet between you and him. 

“Pretty sure we’ve already fucked several times,” Wonwoo says to lighten the mood.

“No, I mean, this…I don’t know. The desserts and the whipped cream and chocolate. It just feels, I don’t know, intimate,” you admit. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you. 

It’s absolutely insane that you’re hesitating. It doesn’t have to be some super intimate thing. It’s not like Wonwoo hasn’t already seen every inch of you and gotten to know your body better than anyone should in that period of time. But, this is far beyond the point where you can convince yourself any part of this is for the mission anymore. This isn’t just to keep him close. This is no longer indecision, as much as you want to pretend that it is.

“Is this your go-to move, then? Have a bunch of sweets delivered to the hotel room and seduce people with being all gentle?” you ask.

“I’ve definitely never done this before,” he says and it’s too honest. 

Instead of answering him you just kiss him because it’s the only answer you can think of. Somehow, knowing that this is different for him too makes it feel less overwhelming for you. You drag him back towards the table until you’re leaning against it. Your back arches into him as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around you to keep you tight against his body. He pulls away again and you’re ready for it this time. 

Wonwoo reaches an arm behind you and dips a strawberry in some of the chocolate. He brings it to your lips and watches intently as you get your mouth around it. The first bite sends a little bit of juice and chocolate over your lips. Just as you’re about to wipe it away, Wonwoo pulls the remainder of the strawberry back and kisses it away. It’s like that one action unlocks any hang ups you have. You twist around to scoop up some whipped cream with your finger. Your eyes lock on Wonwoo as you slowly lick it off. With it still in your mouth, you kiss him hard, enjoying the way your tongues dance and the tastes. 

The two of you take turns dipping fruit and feeding it to each other. The kisses become more and more desperate in between feeding each other. It’s a little messy, though, so you unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt and slide it off his arms. He undoes your dress to slide it off your body, removing your bra along the way. You rid him of his pants and briefs as well so that you’re not the only one standing there naked. 

When you reach back to get more fruit, Wonwoo grabs your hand to stop you. There’s a question in your eyes that he leaves unanswered as he moves things out of the way behind you. Then, he’s sitting you on the edge of the table and reaching for the whipped cream, which also answers your question. He puts some of the topping on your breast and sucks into your skin to lick it off you. Your legs part on their own as you lean back on the table to encourage him to get closer. He swirls his tongue around your nipple before softly nipping at your skin. Without warning, he bites into the flesh of your breast and laves over the spot to soothe you. 

Food should not be this sexy. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wonwoo tempting you, but you’ve never been this turned on. His tongue is everywhere across your breasts and your stomach. Covering you in kisses while also licking the whipped cream or chocolate off of you. Your nails scratch down his back each time he nips into your skin. Somehow the sensations are everywhere all at once. You wrap your legs around his waist to anchor him closer to you. 

“I need you inside me,” you whine out with Wonwoo kissing along your neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks into your skin.

“Feel for yourself,” you encourage. 

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck and looks at you with lust. He presses his fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without even thinking about it. They’re sweet as you swirl your tongue around them. “Fuck, that’s hot.” 

As if it’s confirmation, he ruts against you, seemingly hard just from all the making out and the food. You pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them to your already dripping pussy. He’s not the only one that’s gotten insanely turned on. As soon as you guide his fingers through your folds he groans again. 

Neither one of you is in the mood to wait and he doesn’t waste any time angling his hand so he can pump his fingers inside you. Just presses two fingers right in and adds a third to try and open you up. It makes you scream out, praising his fingers with how quickly they work you over. He removes his hand entirely too quickly and you’re whining at the loss. Wonwoo runs a hand along his cock, pumping a couple times and catching some of the precum to spread it along his length. It’s not enough, but you don’t really care right now. 

“Please, Wonwoo, I need you,” you beg.

“Feeling a little desperate, princess?” he teases, that cocky smirk back on him. 

“Just fuck me already,” you whine. 

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, just lines himself up and presses his tip into you. It stretches you out and you’re a little surprised that he goes so slowly. Then, you realize that it feels like more when he’s inching into you like this. His eyes watch you for any signs of discomfort. He leans forward and catches your lips in the neediest kiss of the night when he bottoms out in you. You lean back onto your elbows, bringing him along with you. The kisses get sloppier as he starts to thrust into you. 

He pulls away from you to reposition and presses your leg up so that he can get deeper. You let your leg fall over his arm so that you don’t have to hold it up. The moans between the two of you are loud enough to drown out the sound of skin on skin as he fucks into you hard. You can’t help it, though, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Look at me,” he directs roughly. 

You moan in response but tilt your head back towards him. It feels like a chore and that’s when it occurs to you. Taking hold of his free hand, you move it to your throat. For a second, his eyes go wide and his pace slows. He’s searching your face for a clue before he grabs your throat a little more forcefully.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck,” you groan out. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much.” 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he utters, flexing his fingers on your throat.

Somehow, Wonwoo seems to know the perfect amount of pressure. It’s just tight enough that it makes it a little harder to breathe, but not so much that it’s actually choking you. He seems more comfortable than when he did it the first time. It also makes it easier to keep your eyes on him the way he wants. Everything feels heightened and it’s entirely too soon that you’re rushing to your high. You clench your walls around Wonwoo and he fucks you harder, groaning at the increased tightness.

“Gonna come all over my dick again?” he asks and you moan. 

You can’t really say anything and you don’t want to. This is all you need. Your hand winds down your body and you look at Wonwoo with a question in your eyes.

“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself,” he directs you. 

Asking for permission to do anything is unlike you, but there’s something about wanting to please this man that drives you to all sorts of new things. You rub your clit in time with his thrusts and it seems like only moments pass before you’re tipping over that edge. 

Heavy breaths eventually subside to find Wonwoo slowly, almost lazily, fucking into you. His hands are now both on your hips as he waits for you to come down. You sit up with him still inside you and kiss him, slow and full of all sorts of unspoken things.

“You really are fucking amazing,” you say, voice a little hoarse. “You can move faster.”

“I was thinking we might need to get into the shower,” he says with a smirk, pressing a finger to your skin. You’re about to object when you watch him pull it away and it sticks. 

“Maybe I can take care of you in there, then,” you say and kiss him softly. 

His eyes seem to light up a little at that. He slides out of you gently and walks slowly into the bathroom. You meant what you said. Shower sex is definitely not your thing because it’s never as sexy as people make it out to be. It can be slippery and there aren’t really any good positions. That doesn’t mean you can’t help him out a little. 

Wonwoo has other ideas first, it seems. Once the water is warm enough, both of you get in and he lathers up a loofah to gently wash all the stickiness from your body. It’s gentle in a way you’re not expecting and impossibly thoughtful. You relax against his back with his arms around you while he makes sure all the remnants are gone. 

When you’re clean, you turn around to face him and kiss him hard. The water falling on your back creates the perfect sensation with the heat between the two of you. He gathers you against his body, hands sliding down to grip your ass. It’s all you can do not to melt right on the spot. You think that you could probably kiss this man for the rest of your life and never get bored. Or never fully prepare yourself for the way it makes you feel. 

You drop to your knees and take his cock in your hand. He leans back against the wall of the shower as he looks down on you. It’s crazy to you how turned on this man gets (or stays) just from kissing or skin contact. No matter what, his body always seems to be ready for you. You run your tongue along his length and swirl your tongue around the tip. You’re impatient and you know he’s been waiting, so you don’t waste any time before you suck him into your mouth. You relax your throat and swallow as much of his cock as you’re able to, alternating between bobbing and hollowing out your cheeks. 

“You look so good looking up at me like that,” he groans. 

You hum around his dick and Wonwoo grabs the back of your head to anchor you there. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before he releases you and you can get a breath. Even in this position, you can tell that you actually have control over this man. It’s a great feeling since he’s been in control every other time. His hips buck when you suck him back into you. It’s definitely a powerful feeling. The groans also tell you what you already know, you’re good at this. He’s putty in your hands. 

With a few more bobs, he’s coming down your throat and then slumping back against the shower wall. It doesn’t stop him from helping you up off your knees. You pepper light kisses along his collarbones before he surprises you and pulls you into another kiss. It’s never been your experience that a man wants to kiss you like that, but he doesn’t shy away. 

“We better get out of this shower before we run through all the hot water,” he says between kisses.

“You’re right,” you say with a sigh. 

The two of you step out of the shower and Wonwoo is quick to wrap you up in a towel. It takes everything in you to tell your heart to calm down. You know Wonwoo feels all the same things you do. Even if he's not free with vocalizing his emotions, his actions tell you exactly what he’s thinking. If you know where to look, that is. You’re realizing that you definitely know where to work. 

Twenty minutes later, your skin care routine is done and you’re curled up in bed in one of Wonwoo’s oversized t-shirts. You know your alarm is going to be too early tomorrow since you need to check in with Seungcheol, but all you want to do tonight is curl up and talk more with this incredibly interesting man. 

Something seems to shift now that you’re holed up in Wonwoo’s hotel room with him for the next however many days. Before, he seemed hesitant to talk about the real reason you two crossed paths. You’re not sure what causes the change or why he trusts that you’re not going to just turn around and burn him. Maybe it’s just that you haven’t done it yet. 

“What made you want to start stealing art?” you ask while the two of you are sitting outside on the balcony. This room really is too nice. It almost makes it hard to leave and explore. 

“I don’t know if it was that I wanted to steal art,” he chuckles. 

“Okay, how did you start, then?” you ask with an affectionate eye roll. 

“It’s going to sound stupid,” he says with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I guess, I don’t know, I grew up in this house where nobody ever seemed to care what I was doing. I stole the first piece from my parents and sold it off to someone I’d met at this underground club. I figured my parents would catch me and then at least I’d have their attention for a minute.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t catch you,” you comment.

“They didn’t even notice it was gone,” he says with a chuckle. “How old were you?” you ask.

“16,” he answers immediately.

“So you’ve been doing this…?” you start, doing the math in your head.

“12 years, yeah,” he says. “It took awhile to get to the point I’m at now. I think for a while I was figuring that my parents would somehow catch on and give a shit about my life. By the time I was 19, I was really good at it and I’d made a lot of contacts. I still moved in all those circles so I never looked out of place at a gallery or a museum. Nobody looked twice at me.”

“Did it ever get lonely?” you ask and Wonwoo regards you for a moment. “I just mean that you were still part of all these circles. You still went to all these parties and it seems like none of them knew you at all. You were hiding in plain sight because nobody knew you well enough to see it.”

“I had the networks of people that I sold to or accepted jobs from,” he says.

“But everything I’ve ever seen says that you rarely met with those people in person. It was always online contact and leaving pieces somewhere after the money had been wired,” you share.

“I guess your agency got a few things right,” he mumbles.

“It sounds loney,” you say sympathetically.

“I wish you were a little less observant,” he says like he’s trying for a joking tone. 

It’s immediately obvious that he’s a little tired and definitely lonely. You can’t really imagine that type of life. Sure, you’ve been working on your own or with a single partner for your entire adult life. But, you’ve still been part of an organization. There are people that know you at your core. There are people that you can turn to when everything in life feels like it sucks. No matter how bad things get, you know there are people out there who can support you.

Almost involuntarily, a series of images pop into your head. Wonwoo in a suit at a charity gala, the type of person that everyone wants to approach. You can imagine people whispering behind their hands about going to speak to him or ask him to dance. Maybe trying to approach him at the bar. Then you see him just as clearly at home afterwards, alone and sitting on his couch with a drink in hand. You see him perusing a museum to get the lay of the land so that he can steal it later. Once again, alone. You see how he probably sits at home communicating with all his potential buyers. 

Wonwoo reads the look on your face and assures you that it’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining things. Yes, he admits that he’s lonely sometimes and that he’s alone more than he’s with other people. It’s hard for him to let anyone in. He doesn’t want to have to account for his time or trust that they won’t blow his cover. There’s nobody in his life that he can be totally himself with, at least not until meeting you. But, he insists that it hasn’t been so bad. Mostly, he prefers to be on his own anyway. He likes the quiet and the solitude. Likes to be able to enjoy his down time however he likes. He gets enough socialization when he goes to events as he’s expected to. 

Which brings up a question. After over a decade of doing everything solo, why has he trusted you with all of this now? His answer comes more immediately than you would expect, yet it makes sense. You have something to lose here, too. Possibly even more than he does. After all, there have been a lot of teams that have been close to unraveling his mysterious identity. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be tracking him down. Not spending time locked away in his hotel room with him. That brings you up a little short because he’s right and you’re not planning on going anywhere. 

He admits that you intrigue him. All his life, Wonwoo has appreciated a good puzzle or a good challenge. You present both to him, though it hasn’t been as much of a challenge to get you to give him a chance as he expected. It is a challenge to try and unravel you. To try and figure out what made you say yes to the date and what makes you stay now. You also meet him on a level that nobody ever has before. You nearly blush at the way he describes your intelligence and how he feels more turned on by your brain than anyone before. Normally something like that would make you cringe. But, somehow Wonwoo makes it sound both sexy and endearing. You’re just as challenged by him, too, so maybe you get it. 

It also brings up some very conflicting feelings in you because it’s a reminder that you have a life entirely separate from him. You have a life that doesn’t allow you to account for this time. At some point, you have to make a final choice. It’s way too late to just turn Wonwoo in without any sort of repercussion. It’s too late to act like this is all just in the name of bringing down one of the most difficult targets you’ve had to track. In the name of getting to know Wonwoo better, you’ve also shared a lot about yourself. A lot that someone like Seungcheol would be able to clock immediately as being true. Every moment you stay with Wonwoo makes your future more complicated. Things are already too hazy. 

“Okay enough heavy stuff,” you declare and stand. “Let’s go do something.”

“Such as?” he prompts. 

“We’re in a beautiful city, let’s go see some of it,” you suggest.

Wonwoo wants to take a minute to actually plan something, but you veto that. He’s definitely not the spontaneous type, which you figured out before you were even sure who he was. It makes more sense now, knowing who he is. So it feels like more of a win that he relents and agrees to just go with the flow. It’s not as if you’ll be flying totally blind anyway. You did a lot of research before coming down for the mission and you know a lot of the places to see, both tourist places and some that are off the beaten path. 

Once you’re outside of the hotel room, things feel different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Everything in the hotel room feels real in the sense of getting to know each other. The conversations can be heavy and there’s that constant need to rip each other’s clothes off. Being outside exploring a foreign city feels real in an entirely different way. None of the conversations are heavy since you’re just appreciating the sights. But, you and Wonwoo trade off in taking pictures of each other (or even snap some together) and it feels like a glimpse at another life. It isn’t a fantasy world because it does feel real, but it doesn’t feel like an actual reality either. It almost feels like a mission you’re on where you and him would pretend to be a couple. You have to remind yourself this is actually a mission and you’re running around with your target because Wonwoo isn’t your partner.

When you’re in Plaza de Mayo, you take a step back to allow Wonwoo to purchase something to eat. It’s too cute to watch him stumble through his Spanish, constantly looking over at you as if asking for help. All you can do is smile as he mixes up hombre and hambre. The older woman putting the food together only smiles softly. There’s something incredibly cute about watching this stoic man get flushed over ordering in another language. 

The next few days follow mostly the same pattern. You wake up earlier than Wonwoo so that you can pretend to work on the mission and actually check in with Seungcheol. Wonwoo pretends that he’s still asleep sometimes. Other times, he gets up and works on his own things. It’s cute that he’ll do anything to make it seem like you have privacy. Breakfast in the room always comes next because it’s an easy way to get ready for the day. 

The days themselves are all a little bit different. You see the Piramide de Mayo, the Floralis Generica, the monuments to Juana Azurduy and General Jose de San Martin, Teatro Colon, the planetarium and several other interesting sights. The planetarium is a personal favorite of yours because it’s just kind of weird in an affectionate way. It’s hard to truly pick a favorite though because each new stop teaches you more about the local culture. It’s the kind of place that just makes you want to fall in love with it. There’s so much beauty and so much to appreciate. Each new stop also seems to involve learning something new about Wonwoo and somehow him trying his hand at Spanish again, only to fail. You’re wondering if he does it just to entertain you. 

While you’re seeing all the tourist spots, you take time to see the things the locals recommend as well. Sometimes that’s hole-in-the-wall food places or stands that someone mentions. Other times it’s a park that’s too out of the way for tourists. Even other times still, it’s a hidden access point to the beach. Thankfully, it’s still cool out and getting Wonwoo to agree to the beach isn’t difficult. You idly wonder what it would be like to try and get him to visit the beach in January when it’s the dead of summer. 

You want to try as many local dishes as you can while you’re there, too. Given his way, Wonwoo would probably eat in the hotel room just as much as out of it, but you don’t know when you’re going to get this chance again. So, even though he’s worn out from spending so much time around people, he lets you drag him out again every night. He even seems to enjoy himself.

At the start of whatever this is, it was always you asking Wonwoo all the questions and trying to volunteer as little about yourself as possible. You’re still an agent and you’re still supposed to be after him. The least you can do, while you’re totally ignoring your mission, is try to better understand Wonwoo and his motivations. Even if you don’t end up turning him in, it's an invaluable experience to get to look into the mind of a criminal. When will you get another chance like this? When will you be this close to someone to ask personal questions? No part of you even considers that he’s lying to you. You’re positive that he answers everything truthfully.

Somewhere along the line, it shifts. Maybe because you know everything you want to know about the man across from you. Or maybe because you genuinely feel comfortable about him. Either way, he’s the one that’s asking you questions now. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t want to know anything about your work. He doesn’t seem to care about any of that. There’s a nagging thought that thinks he might just be trying to make you comfortable. You try to quickly brush it away, though, and just answer any of the personal questions he asks. Wonwoo wants to know the simple things like where you grew up, what your family was like, and what you wanted to do when you were younger. The things that allow him to really know you. It’s terrifying. 

By the time you get back to the hotel that night, you’re exhausted. It feels like it’s been a never ending span of days in the best way. You collapse on the bed without changing. All you manage to do is take off your shoes. Wonwoo leans over you and kisses you, softly at first. But, like every other kiss with him, it leaves you gasping for air after a minute.

It’s amazing how he seems to take your breath away and even more amazing how he always seems like he’s ready to tear your clothes off. You’ve never had someone like him in your life. But, that also brings you back to reality. Wonwoo asked you to give him a few days staying in his hotel room. It’s definitely been longer than that without either of you seeming to notice. There’s a level of comfort that neither of you talk about given that this all has an expiration date. And that expiration date is rapidly approaching. 

Staying with Wonwoo turns out to be longer than either of you planned and neither of you has a complaint about it. You’ve been checking in with Seungcheol every morning and Wonwoo pretends not to listen. It’s been like living in a little bubble where reality isn’t a concern. 

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? This isn’t real life, not for you. This isn’t something that lasts long term or that you can even sustain. The reality is still there. Wonwoo is one of the most infamous art thieves to ever live and you work for a secret agency tasked with bringing criminals like him to justice. You’re not exactly sure what the last however many days have been. All you know is this is just a break from reality. A brief glimpse into an alternate life that can never be. It’s been amazing and something you won’t ever forget. You’re hoping that you’re both on the same page about that, at least.

“I should probably go back to my hotel today,” you say. 

Wonwoo looks up from across the room where he’s reading while you pretend to work on your case. It helps to at least log in to the system. “To get more stuff?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” you point out. 

“No, I expect at some point we’ll leave and head to the next place,” he agrees with a shrug. 

“We?” you ask, eyebrows flying up. 

“Yes, we,” he says like suddenly you’re slow on the uptake. “I’ve got a few places in mind that I’d love to take you, but it’s really up to you.” 

“Wonwoo,” you start and your heart sinks.

You are definitely not on the same page. Probably not even in the same book, if you’re honest. Everything over the past days with him has been amazing. The perfect little escape from your reality. But, that’s all it’s been: an escape. Or maybe that’s all you’ve let yourself think it was. Anything else seems like entirely too much. His face drops as he watches you.

“You’re not coming with me,” he realizes.

“I didn’t even know you would want me to!” you state, too loud for the space.

“How could you not? I’ve been telling you all the places that I wanted you to see,” he says and that hits you harder than a physical blow. He’s been giving you all the signs that this isn’t just a bubble.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” you point out.

“Clearly,” he says, voice thick with disappointment. 

“Wonwoo, come on. It’s not like I can just, what? Run away?” you say.

“Oh, no, there’s a whole life waiting for you back at your precious agency,” he says with derision. 

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” you plead.

“And I’ve shown you that there’s more to life than whatever this is for you,” he counters.

“I can’t just leave them,” you say with a shake of your head.

That seems to make Wonwoo angrier than you expect. “No, of course not. How silly of me. You have to get back to your handler that so clearly loves you.” 

“Seungcheol does not love me. We’re friends, sure, but that’s it,” you disagree.

“Let’s pretend that’s true and it’s normal for a handler to speak to you the way he does. Or that it’s normal for him to worry so much about your safety. Who are you going back to apart from him? Who’s waiting for you?” Wonwoo asks.

The questions wash over you like acid rain. Painful and harsh and unrelenting. The worst part is that he’s right. You have wondered if there are some feelings there from Seungcheol. You also don’t have anyone waiting for you. It’s really a half-life, if you’re being honest. Less than a half-life, probably. The past few days with Wonwoo are the most alive you’ve felt since you were a child, before joining the agency. 

“I can’t just…this is my job, Wonwoo. And you’re an art thief. A very famous one and…” you start.

“Have I stolen anything here?” he asks and that brings you up short.

“Well, no, of course not. You’ve been with me,” you say simply.

“And I will leave this city without stealing. I will switch careers entirely if it’s that important, though it doesn’t seem like it is since you haven’t turned me in,” he says and it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve been all over the globe trying to feel something. Trying for anything. I started stealing because I could. I wanted to get the attention my parents never gave me. I kept going because I was looking for a challenge, which it is, at least sometimes. I was looking for someone, I think. Then, I find you and you’re everything I didn’t know to ask for. But, you’re telling me some job where you can’t even have a life is more important than this? That my job, which I’m completely willing to give up, is too much of a barrier?”

“I have a life,” you scoff.

“Really?” Wonwoo challenges and folds his arms. “When was the last time you went on a real date? Not with a target, but a real date just with someone you wanted to know? When’s the last time you let yourself just breathe and explore a city? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

“Plenty of people are married to their jobs,” you begin.

“I thought you were brave, you know,” Wonwoo muses. “I thought you were someone who would realize how rare this is. It’s not like everyone is lucky enough to meet a person that completes them like this. I guess I was wrong. I guess all I was really good for was fucking you and that’s all it was.”

“Of course that’s not all it was,” you disagree. There are tears threatening to spill over. This isn’t at all how you imagined it going. You weren’t prepared for him to try to fight for you. “The last few days with you have been everything I never thought I’d experience. But, it hasn’t been real, Wonwoo. It can’t be real. Life doesn’t work that way.” 

“Why can’t it?” he fires at you.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” you scream, tears finally streaming down your face. “Because you don’t know my scars. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know the mistakes I’ve made. You don’t know that I have demons that are constantly chasing me.” 

“I’m a fucking criminal,” he points out. “Who am I to judge?”

“Exactly,” you agree but rush to finish your thought before Wonwoo can interject. “You don’t…question the decisions you’ve made. You stand on everything you’ve done. But, you also do so much good with charities and helping students and just giving back. Plus, I’ve looked at your crimes. You only ever stole from the rich to sell to other rich people.”

“Yet you still were sent to chase me,” he points out. 

“Yeah, who do you think pays our salaries?” you ask flatly. “My point is that…I don’t know. I’m standing here across from you and I feel like I’m the infinitely worse person in this situation.” 

“It really can’t be that bad,” he reasons.

“I’ve taken lives, Wonwoo. More than I can count. And without even questioning if our reasoning was solid for taking them out. I’ve used my body in ways that I may never recover from, thinking it was my choice at the time. I’ve done what I was told and I’ve been good at it. Too good, maybe,” you say. You’re talking to yourself more than him at this point. “I’m the one they send when they don’t want a record. I’m the one they send when nobody else can do it. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life training and doing what I was told. It’s given me scars that you can’t see and won’t ever heal. All I know is this. They’re not just going to let me go. And even if they did, you don’t deserve all the baggage that I come with. You’re not a bad guy.”

“And you think you are? A bad guy?” he asks.

“I know I am,” you say.

“That’s all you are if that’s all you see, but I see so much more,” he argues. 

“I still can’t just ask them to walk away,” you press.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask,” he says. “You deserve a chance to start fresh. To see what you can be without the weight of the world hanging over your head.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than what I have now,” you disagree.

“What about love? Do you deserve that?” he asks, changing directions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“And me? Do I deserve love?” he asks.

“Yes, without question,” you answer immediately.

“So give me the chance to experience love,” he begs. “I never thought I’d love anyone and I’ve never taken this kind of chance on anyone. But, I’m asking you for a chance. Just one more.” 

There’s so much tension in the air between you. So many things still left unsaid and so much emotion. The air between you and him seems to crackle. A storm brews behind his eyes as he waits for you to answer him. It seems insane to think that he could feel that for you after such a short time. But, really, what do you know? You have unquestionably never been in love before, not really. There’s never been the time or space for it in your line of work. Relationships never seem to get deeper because you’re always keeping secrets. Can’t ever tell them what you really do for work. And then there’s Wonwoo. He knows so much about you already and even though it’s barely scratched the surface, it’s still more honest than you’ve ever been. He doesn’t want to run away and that scares you more than any mission you’ve ever had.

It’s just…it’s too much to decide now. You spend your whole life having to make split second decisions, yet can’t about this. Don’t have the data that you have on missions. Don’t know the pros and cons. It’s uncharted territory. It’s scary in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve stared down the barrel of too many guns and this still feels infinitely more terrifying. Maybe he can love you after such a short amount of time because he seems to realize what you’re going to say before you say it. 

“Don’t,” he says softly when you open your mouth. “I’m going to leave the day after tomorrow. I’m going to set the flight to leave at 1 in the afternoon. That gives you time to change your mind.”

“And if I don’t reach you before then?” you ask softly.

“Don’t ever expect to find me again,” he says with a finality that surprises you. When you meet his gaze, it’s harder than you’re expecting. “I really care about you and I’d love you to come with me. But I know how stubborn you are. It’s part of why I love you so much. So I’m leaving my heart open until the day after tomorrow. Then it’s over.”

“You’re an amazing person, Wonwoo,” you say and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve challenged a lot of my ideas about right and wrong. I’ll never forget that.” 

“I’m not accepting this as goodbye. I’ll still hope to see you before I leave,” he says and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead. 

Your throat is too tight to say anything in response to that. All you can do is gather up your things and head out of the hotel room. Everything in your body feels tired from the unexpected heaviness of the conversation. It hurts to see Wonwoo looking so hurt. As crazy as it sounds, you do mean that he deserves the absolute best. You also meant it that made you rethink a lot of your preconceived notions. You actually questioned things for the first time in your adult life. Despite all of that, you still walk right out of the hotel room.

You spend nearly every minute after walking out of Wonwoo’s hotel room considering his offer. Go as far as scheduling your flight out of Buenos Aires for the same time as his. Genuinely, you’re not sure what you want to do. At least Seungcheol understood failing the mission. Somehow, he still sees it as a win that nothing was stolen from anywhere in the city while you were there. He assumes that your presence somehow spooked the notorious art thief. Thankfully he doesn’t realize just how right he is. 

The biggest surprise is that Chan, the slightly overeager agent from the flight down, will be meeting you when you get on the plane. He’s only wrapping up a second mission that popped up in the area. The Agency is sending him along so that you can debrief about your actual mission and start looping him in going forward. Apparently, as great as you are and as (almost) perfect as your record is, the agency still wants to have someone for you to work with when you need them. Since that can’t be Seungcheol, he’s recommending a promising younger agent. This apparently also includes you being the one to tell him all of this yourself. 

The airport is busy when you get there, an unsurprising side effect of planning flights during the afternoon. There’s also the fact that private planes have to leave from the international airport, which is always somewhat packed. Getting through customs and security is surprisingly smooth and soon you’re going to have to face your literal crossroads. 

In one direction is the familiar. Nothing about working for The Agency is easy. There’s a sense of routine to it, though. A sense of generally knowing what your days or weeks or even months will look like. You know how to make coffee in the shitty break room when you’re actually on site (a rarity). You know how to play nice with the other agents. You know how all the tech works. And you’re good at the missions themselves. That’s just to say you don’t have to learn anything new. You’re lucky enough to have a semi-boss that you get along with. There’s a sense of routine to everything from mission briefings to flights to the missions themselves. There’s comfort in knowing you don’t really have to make the decisions. Sure, you have to figure out which course to take on the ground with a mission. But, that usually only means picking option A or B. All of the possible courses of action come in the briefing. You just have to evaluate the factors and figure out which pre-determined option fits best. It’s easy. As fucked up as it might be to admit, you like doing something that you know you’re good at. It’s nice to get praised for constantly succeeding. It’s the easy decision.

And in the other direction…well, it’s the unknown. Being with Wonwoo has been nothing short of the best feeling of your life. The most alive you’ve ever felt. It’s kind of crazy but part of you thinks you may love him. Can see how the whole future plays out, even if it’s not crystal clear. The two of you could start over somewhere new where he doesn’t have to steal art and you don’t have to chase criminals with questionable methods. Both of you have the funds (even if he’s better set up) to start over. Both of you clearly have the skills to disappear into the wind, too. It’s not like your legal name exists anywhere anymore. Very few people even know it, not that you would go back to it. 

It’s easy to get lost in the daydream. As much as you love the sun of Buenos Aires, you can’t imagine Wonwoo in a place like that during the actual summer. Everything about him makes you think of somewhere cooler, somewhere that you’re not constantly sweating. That would let you take breaks to sunnier weather. Places where you could soak up the sun while he took refuge under an umbrella, watching you with all the affection in the world. Actually, you can picture visiting a lot of places with him. He would be the perfect travel partner to see all the beautiful corners of the world that you’ve never been able to appreciate. It’s like going somewhere for a business trip. You’re there working, not to appreciate everything around you. 

There’s something kind of poetic about being at an airport as an actual crossroads in your life. It’s like you can get on a plane going anywhere. Quite literally, since you’re not sure where Wonwoo’s plane is going. Not that it really matters. If that’s the path you pick, then it’s for him rather than the destination. 

The only question left is whether you’re ready to leave your entire life behind. Are you ready to say goodbye to the agency that saved you? Are you ready to cut yourself off from the few people who actually know you and accept you as you are? Can you live without having any closure on that part of your life? Would you feel guilty that Seungcheol would be left with a million questions about what happened to you? Or would it hurt you to know that he would blame himself for your disappearance somehow? Then again, maybe he would know, on some level, that you just finally reached the point of needing to walk away. That’s something you and him have talked about before, in the early hours of the morning after too much to drink. What would you do if you could walk away from this life? What would life after The Agency look like? 

With a deep breath, you pick your path and you don’t look back. That’s the only way you know you’ll have the strength in your decision. 

i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please reblog or comment and let me know 💕

[lavellaned]

When I say I dislike the solavellan ending I don’t mean how they end up, I mean how they got there. Them ascending past the dinan’shiral together? The slight ambiguity of it all so anything could be canon? Them both surviving?!?!! Literally the best fucking ending that I wasn’t confident we would ever get. Just how we got there was kinda. You know.

I’m personally not the biggest fan of how Lavellan is in da4 (which I wasn't too surprised about since inky isn't pc), especially when it comes to Solas. The interactions rook can have with both of them about the other feel uneven, for lack of a better word. I can’t really believe Solas would ever talk about someone so precious to him to someone like rook, regardless of their relationship to him. I would’ve preferred it to be told environmentally, through found notes, journals, murals and have him not say a word about her. That feels more authentic to me. Because otherwise what we got was Lavellan waxing poetic about Solas and just casually dropping the fact that they were together and that they’re special to each other while all Solas says is that she’s a good woman that he cherishes.

And then I can’t help but compare it to trespasser. The ending to that dlc ruined me. To this day I still can’t listen to Lost Elf lmao. He kneels down to her, gently runs his fingers through her hair, holds her hand, and kisses her while saving her life from the anchor. The heart-wrenching, “My love.” His last words to her (and the last ones we hear for the next 8 years) are, “I will never forget you.” Are you kidding rn???? I’m demolished. I have never recovered. I get fucking shaky to this day thinking about it. Veilguard just didn’t match that for me.

The thing I do love about it though is the moment he first hears her voice. Nearly breaks his damn neck to look for her. And the way that just looking at her makes him so breathless we get the most tortured “vhenan” I’ve ever heard from him. The way his eyes get so soft. If they had kept that energy for the entire time they interacted in the end I would be one happy camper. But they just kinda didn’t.

I think my main issue comes from the lack of agency Solas has the entire time, even when Mythal lets him go. Maybe I’m just too sensitive to this and am seeing things that aren’t really there, but it has the feeling that things with Lavellan are just happening to him, and he doesn’t really get a say. Solas had no agency pretty much the entire game, and the game is pretty much about how his entire life has been like that. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely believe he wants her with him, but you couldn’t have held her hand at least and walked into the rift together? You just kinda walked away and if she goes, she goes? Idk man, could just be a me thing, but I do wish there was a slight tone difference, in that Solas is actually making a choice he wants for himself for once.

[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

keep talking — könig

got into cod because someone told me he was 6’9 and so i told them i wanna 69

tags: light angst, bros injured, smut, dubcon kinda, phone sex except its a walkie talkie. rushed ending lowkey, ambiguous relationship. ambiguous ending ooo. light blackmail, soldier!reader, y/n is watching better call saul (dont @ me), povs might be weird idk

⚠️

“König, how copy?”

Nothing. Literal radio silence.

“König, I’m talking to you. How copy?”

“I’m here.” He grunted after a long period of silence. “Bad copy.”

“I say again. Did you get caught in the crossfire?” 

The battlefield surrounding König had bullet shells everywhere, he laid carefully in the ground, trying to hide his large body from any further incoming fire.

“I did.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“What are your injuries?”

“I’m fine.” He growled.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Too much dust.”

“König, are you in a safe place? I’m gonna need you to stay there until it’s safe enough for someone to get you.” 

“Affirmative.” He panted. 

“I need you to say something, König.”

“Minimal damage, only flesh wounds. A few hits in the right leg.” He grunted in frustration. “I got my vest, I’m fine.”

He laid in the ditch, looking around the empty battlefield, only being able to make out clouds of smoke and dust as gunfire continued from the distance, the fight being gradually dragged away from him. He winced as the blood kept pouring out of his thigh.

He dug his fingers into one of the bullet holes in the pants, using it as a weak point to rip the fabric. His hands were too dirty to try and tend the wound himself, so he turned the leg of his pants into makeshift shorts; pulling the fabric down his leg and using the length of it to make a tourniquet for the wound.

“Come in, König.”

“Scheiße.. What?” He barked into the receiver. “I’m not dying, fräulein.”

There was a silence as he tried to shuffle his large body into the ditch, giving his leg room while trying to stay undetected. 

“We can’t risk that.” I finally said from the other end.

“Then talk to me. I’m not dying. Don’t treat me like it.” He spoke sternly.

“What do you expect me to talk about?”

“Anything. Just don’t mention that I’m bleeding out.”

“The mission—”

“Not the mission.” He snapped again. “Your day or something.”

“Sorry, um..” I paused, lost on conversation.

There was a moment of silence and he groaned at the hesitance before the receiver burst to life again. He felt a pang of guilt as he palmed himself through his cargo pants. He’d been shot at enough times to learn that the fastest way to get rid of pain is to replace it with something better, and in situations where first aid was out of the question for the foreseeable future, this was all he had unless he decided to just put up with it.

“Okay.” I started. “I started watching a lawyer show. It’s really good.” I started rambling slightly about the show until I ran out of information that König would care for.

I tried to jump from topic to topic seamlessly but a one-sided conversation wasn’t easy to keep going.

“I don’t really have a lot of spare time, so I’m running out of things to talk about.” I commented, noticing a lack of response. “König?”

“I’m alive.” He spoke through shaking breaths.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm..” He nodded, despite me being unable to see him.

“I say again. Are you okay?”

“Gut. Ich bin prima.” He spoke. “Tut höllisch weh.” While I couldn’t make out what he was saying, his sarcasm and frustration was detectable from a mile away.

“English, König.”

“Hurts like hell.” He groaned out.

All of his actions could be explained one way or another, his ambiguous silence, his heavy breathing and grunting. From one end it seemed like a man in pain. On the other end of things, he had his head thrown back in the dirt, stroking himself slowly as the words filled his ears.

His breathing was ragged, hissing and panting as he tried to distract himself. He would manage to build his composure when he needed to talk through the comms, but besides that, he was a mess. Whining and grunting as he tried to focus on the sweet voice on the receiver instead of the stinging metal that was sinking into his skin.

He desperately jerked himself off, stroking his dick tenderly. “Keep talking.” He groaned. “Bitte, I’m bleeding everywhere. Hurts.”

“König..?” I began to feel suspicious at his pleas, it was so unlike him to be like this, he’d been shot before without acting this strange, he was swaying between aggressive and gentleness. “Are you..?”

“No.” He answered quickly, to the point where it raised more suspicion. He cringed at his own reaction, realising he sold himself out, and admitting it with his chest bare.

“König.” I said more sternly.

“Ich musste es tun, es tut so weh und deine stimme fühlt sich so gut an.” He groaned, using the wrong head to think, barely comprehensive as he rambled in a language I couldn’t even speak.

I took a deep inhale, his ramblings proving my point. “Say again in english please.”

“Yes.” He managed to get out.

“Yes, you’re jerking off?”

“Musste, kleine.” He panted, and while I still couldn’t make out his words, I understood that he was admitting to it, and by the sounds eliciting from his throat, it was clear that he wasn’t stopping. “Zu sagen dass es mir leid tut wäre eine lüge.”

“König.”

“Please.” He finally spoke out in english. “Please, keep talking.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“Anything.” He groaned, and there was a moment of silence as we both sat in thought. His harsh demeanour melted quickly, he had no right of way to be a snappy colonel here as the need consumed him wholly.

“Do you expect me to talk dirty to you? Tell you that I bet you’re so hard and aching? That you’re probably leaking everywhere?”

“Scheiße, ja.” He nodded to the blankness of the battlefield, knowing that I couldn’t see his enthusiasm but wanting to express it anyway.

“And that’s all for me?”

“Ja, ja.” He panted out with need. “Need you.. Please?”

I sigh into the receiver and his breath catches in his throat, he gently massages his tip, enough to keep him going but not enough to build any pleasure. Guilt slowly began to consume him but he refused to let that be the other option. He didn’t want to sit in the dirt, bleeding out and crying out in pain instead of ecstasy.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What.. Do you want to say?” He responded carefully, keeping himself calm enough for this conversation to go smoothly. “Please, I’m.. Uh, werde abspritzen.. Orgasm.” He struggled out, his mind going blank.

“You have a lot of explaining to do later.”

“I know.” He groaned. “Tell me.”

I sucked my teeth. “I don’t know what to say to you, König. You want me to tell you how I want you buried deep in me?”

He let out a moan. “That.” He gritted.

“You’re fantasising about how good my pussy feels, right?”

“Ja, gute muschi.” He moaned, and soft slapping sounds began to be audible through the radio. I felt glad that no one else could listen into this line. He muttered incoherencies in English and German, it was hard to keep track of what he was trying to say.

The shame kept threatening to lay heavy on his conscience, though he managed to push it away every time it tried, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back later.

“You sound close.”

“Am.” He swallowed thickly. “So sexy. So beautiful.”

“Mhm? Want me to say something about how I fuck myself in my quarters? Gotta keep myself quiet so the others don’t hear me through the shitty paper-thin walls?” I started. “Or how I’m tight because I haven’t got a boyfriend? My Colonel doesn't give me enough time off, y’know?”

The passive aggressiveness was something he made a mental note of, something to save for later to make up for his actions. Right now, he was focused on the orgasm threatening to rip through his body. 

“Mhm, like that.” He whined, covering his mouth and his sounds becoming more muffled. “Scheiße—” The embarrassment in his voice lingered in the line for longer than his words did but it didn’t dissuade him. “Can explain this.. Later. Ah, please, right there.” He managed to curse out.

He panted and groaned, a mix of ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ filled the air, surrounded by something or other in german. It was hard to tell what was happening through the walkie talkie, though before I could respond, his dick twitched in his hand, spilling cum from the tip, leaking over his hand and down onto his pants.

He threw his head back into the dirt, trying to regain himself, his afterglow of bliss successfully distracting him, but not enough to not worry about the growing guilt. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“So.. You can explain why you were out of position or why you were jacking off?”

“Both.” He breathed. “I can do both. I’m sorry.”

“Evac van is on its way, it might take a bit to find you.” I tried to bite back a smile. “You should clean up.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “Thanks, uh.. I’m..”

He sighed, knowing better than to keep apologising, mindlessly wiping his hand on his pants, not caring too much of the stain and trying to reorganise himself. He crawled around the ditch, trying to make his position more obvious to the humvee, he could vaguely see it in the distance.

“Tell me you’re not mad, right?” He spoke through the radio, trying to walk towards a more visible vantage point where the enemy wouldn’t see him if there were any lingerers despite the fact that the fight was most certainly further down the open field at this point.

I laughed through the radio, and the cackle of life it brought to the abandoned field was uneasy as he slowly tried to move towards the van.

“No, not mad, but I definitely plan to use this against you in the near future.” 

[nicoleanell]

(actual link to gif set because tumblr's being weird)

Man it's the fact this statement is weirdly big and generous and brave in Armand's mind. I think it was Assad or someone else who said it was a moment of overconfidence or almost gloating, which is not the exact vibe I get, but I think there's something to that big-headedness of having survived and gotten through it and it's over now and just... He just wants to see. He just wants to skip that little stone down the cliff and see what happens. Maybe if nothing happens *then* he would actually be able to exhale. (He will not. He'd find something else. There's an itch in him that's never going to be secure enough in the bed he made.) Maybe it's just wanting to test something - Louis or himself or how many ways he can't die.

People tie it directly to Armand not being able to say the words in 2x05, which is probably intentional, but also it's not *exactly* the same because for one thing it's in the Past Tense now. It's very much meant as a moment of *closure* - he DID love you, past tense, we don't know where he is or how he feels now and that doesn't matter - while in San Francisco with Lestat right there on the mind telephone, it was the present tense terror that maybe that really was all Louis needed to hear to go running back to him.

But their relationship has also changed SO dramatically since San Francisco that it feels like even the past-tense version is a very, very precarious thing to admit. Because it's not about the material love triangle, it's not who-will-Bella-Swan-choose, it's about 70 years of mythmaking and storytelling.

SIDEBAR: The show left us IMO with a very frustrating ambiguity about the extent to which Armand has used his mind powers on Louis, like to the point where you have some fans believing that *every single fucking memory* we saw onscreen that they didn't like for the last two seasons is Fake News actually, and other fans believing it happened Just That One Time GOD. (I personally lean toward way *less* mind manipulation than other people assume, and if it was literally JUST the shit that happened in 1973 that's... enough to be messed up lol. I think the "love of my life" and finishing each other's sentences scenes have some unsettling implications. I *don't* think Louis having imperfect recall and limited perspective of stuff that happened a century ago is because of Armand all or even *most* of the time.)

But the fact no matter what is that Louis has a lot of cognitive dissonance around Lestat because he WANTS it acknowledged on some bone-deep level that Lestat loved him, because he loved/continues to love him too. And if we're gonna insist on throwing the word "gaslighting" around when we just mean "lying", then at the end of the day it's about Louis being told he's not crazy by someone who has at times made him feel that way.

Idk maybe this is me getting Too Deep about a finale I still think is kinda unsatisfying and already had way too much to do with Lestat and not enough with Claudia. But I do like that moment when I look past the toxic love triangle and more toward "hey buddy [my best friend Armand] why are you Like That" and Louis' little smile breaking my heart.

Something sad about that moment is Armand's right that saying those words *doesn't* end the world, and if nothing else had happened and Daniel and the Vampire CIA weren't on their divorce-attorney kick, that'd be the end of it. (Hot take I don't think saying the words or not in 1973 would've really made a difference either, and there's so much more nuanced and wild shit going on there than an undelivered message romcom beat.) And Louis would be *grateful* for that moment of understanding and closure between them.

[joshusten]

bitter melon (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Honey got stood up on a date and Guy tried to save their night.

(pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, jealousy (hohohoho), slight misunderstanding, conflict between characters, making up, fluff) 4.6k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: insecurities, self-depreciating thoughts and a lil breakdown im sorry honey has some issues over here (projecting moment?), NOT PROOFREAD as always LMAOO 

ALSO sadly guy isnt as silly (maybe really ooc) as he is most of the fic because he has Internal Conflict + i tried to make honey’s outfit and appearance as ambiguous as possible but i’m not sure how well i did with that ;---; so just keep that in mind! Idk how to feel about this fic ! i love it and i hate it LMAO]

"Oooh, what's got you all dressed up, roomie?"

It was the weekend—Kayla had just been picked up by her boyfriend, which had Guy realizing he and his favorite roommate had the place all to themselves for a few hours. As far as he recalled, he was off from work, and they hadn’t mentioned any errands to him for today. Perfect!

Guy had a bounce in his step as he arrived by the entrance to the room at the leftmost side of their shared apartment. He rapidly knocked at the door with a giddy “Hello?”, eagerly waiting for the response that he knew would always come. 

Hm, which game should they play this time? Smash was always an option but he wouldn’t mind trying something new with them. They could even watch some random YouTube documentary again like they did last time. Or maybe he can finally muster up the courage to ask them if they want to hang out somewhere outside the apartment that isn’t for laundry or groceries. 

He smiled to himself. Yeah, I’d like that. They can go to that new arcade that opened up nearby!

Before Guy can daydream more of sharing smiles in photo booths and frustratingly rigged crane games, the door opens to reveal the subject of his reverie, clad in clothing and accessories flashier than what they would typically wear. He got a whiff of a pleasant fragrance too and he realized that they must have put on a perfume of some kind.

Woah. 

They looked…amazing. They've always looked amazing. He had thought that about his grumpy companion even before the pair got close. But, seeing them in anything other than their usual casualwear or pajamas was definitely a surprise. 

The teasing amount of skin they had exposed didn’t go unnoticed by him, as well.

His roommate, by all means, was no prude. They even had their fair share of comebacks more vulgar than his flirts when they banter (Those particular interactions definitely do not keep him up at night, blushing and wide-eyed while he stares at the ceiling. Nope. Never.) This side of them, however, was something he’d never seen before until now. This side of how they present themselves with such boldness was new and he didn’t mind it at all.

The outfit looked good on them. Too good. A seductive dark top that very much complemented the tone of their skin, unbuttoned dangerously low enough to reveal the expanse of their collarbone that was adorned by a simple necklace. 

Their shoes gave them more height too, slightly towering over Guy more than they already did before and forcing him to tilt his head up a little for their eyes to meet. The dizzying scent of their cologne paired with those pants that hugged their figure just right had his mind reeling. It was mortifying—how they had him in such a daze so easily.

Fuck. 

Guy gulped nervously.

“You going out tonight with friends o–or something?” he frantically adds, suddenly aware of how much he was probably staring amidst his very appropriate train of thought about the person before him. Admittedly, the man was a little bummed that his plans to take them out first (Platonically, of course. How else would it be?) were off the table, though his interest had been piqued by what they were up to being dressed like that.

"Oh, uhm, no. I mean, yeah? Kinda? I'm…" They looked hesitant and a little…embarrassed? Well if it's something they don't want to share then he didn’t mind. Despite how much of a menace he is (with his roommate never failing to lovingly remind him of this), Guy wouldn’t want to force anything out of them, especially if it got them so uncharacteristically timid. He tends to forget such social cues, but he actively tries to improve and avoid being so pushy.

As he was about to reassure them that it was okay to not respond, they replied with a bashfulness that was unlikely of them, “I’m…going on a date.”

 A date? With someone else? Romantically? He felt his grip on the door frame tighten, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, silencing his buzzing mind for a split second before managing to fake a curious smile.

“Oh? Who are they? Do I know them?” He liked to think he inquired them out of politeness, like a nosey friend pestering someone about their crush, but the thought of his roommate being alone with someone for the night leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He had the need to asses this person, and determine if they really were worthy of their time—of them—for reasons he isn’t really sure of, it just felt like instinct.

Guy internally cringed. What the fuck does that mean? Why the hell is he thinking like this? Protective! He’s being protective, of course. Any friend would want to protect their friend with things like these! A love life is a huge factor in someone’s happiness after all, right? So he, as a friend, can definitely be wary if someone could be a potential risk of heartbreak for their friend.

Okay, if he thinks of the word ‘friend’ one more time he might actually lose it.

He needed a cold shower. Yeah! He just needs a nice cold shower to shock his brain and stop the weirdest fucking thoughts from ever forming, especially thoughts concerning his roommate that’s currently driving him crazy in every way possible.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. He’s from my class.” They shrugged, looking to the side awkwardly. “I dont know, he just asked me out yesterday and I figured, ‘Why not?’”

Guy hands began to twitch involuntarily as his roommate smiled at themself, oblivious to the spiral that he was having. "My friends kept on saying I should try letting loose and going out more so I guess it’s about time.” 

“Oh, uh, hope you enjoy, then.” God, he feels light-headed.

“Well, isn’t this a first. What, no witty remark? No innuendo about me finally ‘getting some’?” Guy fought the urge to grimace. Somehow those jokes would do nothing but sour his mood even more instead.

“Hey,” The man started, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Can’t I wish a friend good luck on their date?” Friend. The word felt worse and worse the more it festered in his mind. Yeah, that’s what they were. What they’ll ever be. Nothing more. 

“Pfft, whatever, man.” The smirk grew wider on their lips. They seem really excited and he shamefully thinks it might make him vomit at how eager they are for this date. He should support them, right? Guy can see how his roommate tends to keep to themself most of the time, especially when Kayla’s with them. So seeing them go out of their comfort zone should have been a relief. He should be happy for them.

Whenever Guy was with them, being happy was easy. So why was he having such a hard time now?

Their grin dropped when they glanced at their watch with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I think I need to go.”

They opened their bedroom door and lifted up their arms from the side in a way to reveal more of what they were wearing. “How do I look?” 

Yup, feeling dizzy again. Remember to breathe, Guy.

“Uh, yeah, y–you look great! Really.” Guy put on a strained smile. “Have fun, just don’t miss me too much, though. Might be unbecoming for your date.” He prays to god they don’t notice how his voice wavered at the end.

They rolled their eyes with a familiar chuckle that usually follows whenever he makes a joke, “Pfft, whatever.” 

Waving him goodbye as they rush to the exit. “Don’t wait for me when you’re gonna eat dinner, by the way. I might be home late!” One last look on their watch had them walking faster. “Okaygottacatchthebusnowbye–!”

 He heard the gentle click of the door shutting and the apartment felt lonelier than what he’s used to.

— 

Tap, tap, tap.

“In old legends, tales long forgotten, the sea is often said to be unkind. 

The sea’s temper is short, and his rage is felt through the angry swells of the water that eat sailors alive. His strength is tremendous, taking down the tallest of mountains and sinking whole countries with his surging claws. But most of all, his cruel waves do not discriminate, drowning both the wicked and the innocent altogether. He cares not for the last breath he takes from their lungs to fill with salt and water and death. 

Despite his hostility, the sea yearns for the moon. 

Whenever the moon came down to greet him like an old, treasured friend, the waters still. All is tranquil when the sky and the sea meet. The sea breeze is calm as the children play by the shore. The people were grateful, for the sea had fallen for the beauty in the sky.

But all good things never last.

The sea became selfish. He loathes the time when the moon eventually ascends to the abode of angels, their home. He loathes the loneliness that becomes of him when he can no longer feel the warmth of their glow. His loathing turns into wallowing in sorrow until he decides that he has had enough.

His calm waves suddenly grow with the intent to seize, to take, to keep the jewel of the night for himself. His desire for them to stay overflowed into his foolish actions that had done nothing but have the moon be victim to the harshness he had reserved for men.

The moon wept, and the sea received their tears. He had hurt them. He had hurt them in his act of love. They returned to the skies, burdened to carry the melancholy of a broken heart and the sea remains, afraid to cause more harm.

The moon never came down again.

His attempts to reconnect bear no fruit. A different kind of madness consumed him, wrapping around his very soul like how guilt wraps around the sinners. It’s God’s punishment, he deems, for his covetous ways. To chase for the sky but never touch the clouds, to stretch up to the heavens but never high enough. 

He had realized that they could not be attained. 

They will not come back for him.

Yet he continues to reach high above, hoping for the blessing of a god birthed by pity. To push his tides to the limit for a chance to be in the moon’s presence once more until the end of time.

It is all but a myth, ancient words that the people of the present cannot truly decipher, but all its messages share the same sentiment;

The sea is…”

“Hm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is mysterious?”

“No, no, no…”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is prideful?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound right either.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is spiteful?

Vitriolic?

Rancorous?”

The living room which was once filled with the constant stream of clicking laptop keys came to an abrupt halt. I give up. This whole ‘running away from your issues’ thing really isn’t working.

That same irritating pain still persisted. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a discomfort, aching to the point that Guy started to rub his chest a few times in an attempt to soothe it. What is up with me today? Even after the cold shower that he was sure would solve his current predicament, the feeling of unease still lingered. 

He figured he might as well do the writing exercises that his professor had assigned a few days ago to distract himself yet it was of no help at all. In fact, it was just fueling the fire of these messy emotions that he had been feeling. His tired eyes closed, fingers circling his throbbing temples, as he racked his mind for something that would best fit the final line. I swear to god it’s at the tip of my tongue!

His mind snapped out of focus after hearing the noise of the door suddenly opening. He managed to haphazardly type a word to try out before it could escape his mind so that he could finally finish this troubling assignment that had opened more problems he had meant to solve. 

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and they burned, knowing full well who had just barged in. Speak of the devil. His roommate finally returned along with the sinking feeling in his ribs. They had gotten back from their date. Guy made sure to put on his most convincing smile. 

“Hey, roomie! Back already? How was it?”

“Uh, yeah, hi.” They didn’t bother to look at him, ignoring his eager questions while they hastily set down the small bag they brought. Guy sees them navigate through the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and hungrily gulp it down. “I-is Kayla here?”

He frowned, shifting his body to face where they were in the kitchen. “Uh, no. She texted me that she was staying over with her boyfriend. Why?”

“Thank god.” 

“Yeah, I know right? So, uh, how’s the date?”

No response came again, His roommate was seemingly distracted by whatever they were scrolling through on their phone but it was clear that they were purposely ignoring him.

“He-ey! I asked how the date was. Did something happen?” They were as timid as they were before. And like before, the unease in his gut grew.

“U-uhm, it was fine.” The man heard them murmur. Why were they so secretive? They seemed frazzled and they were doing that thing where they touched their cheeks to cover their face whenever they got warm because they were…flustered. Are they–? On that date, did they–? Did something happen like that between them and their date?

Unnoticed by his roommate, Guy’s eyes widened. The pain in his chest returned tenfold. This should’ve been a good thing. That means they had a great time. Why is he mad? Why does he get that sinking feeling? Why does he feel so spiteful about it?

“What, no juicy details? Oh, I get it. You’re keeping secrets from me! Not a kiss-and-tell typa person now, are we?”

Maybe it was stupid of him to prod, especially about the one thing that set this rollercoaster of confusing emotions in the first place. But he needs to know. What did they do? How was it? Did they like it— being with him instead of Guy?

They continued to ignore his lighthearted interrogations and Guy knew that he should’ve just dropped it at this point but something in him snapped all of a sudden. He isn’t sure if the agitation that built up had got to him but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out his next words—harsher than intended.

“Hey, I'm not the selfish one over here who left me all alone inside at a weekend while they got to actually enjoy the night in some fancy restaurant or something. C’mon, spill!” 

The lightness in his tone never left. In fact, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like his usual playful nagging Both of them, however, noticed the shift in the direction of their conversation. (Since when was he one to provoke someone?) He’ll blame it on being in the heat of the moment for now. They understand he was just curious like that, right? All he was sure of was that he needed to know what happened. Why is he mad? Stop being mad. They didn’t do anything wrong.

He noticed their flinch far too late.

“I got stood up, Guy. Was that what you wanted to hear? Because, god forbid, I get to actually go out and do shit for myself!” The acidity of the way they said his name sent chills up to his spine. Their voice was eerily still, its coldness made Guy’s blood freeze. “Because I’m such a selfish asshole to enjoy things for once, right?”

“Oh.” 

Oh fuck. He fucked up.

“Yeah, oh,” A dry chuckle left their quivering lips. “Can’t believe I fucking thought he would actually show up. Thought somebody wasn’t fucking around with me for once and I–” They abruptly stood up. The harsh scrape of the chair puts the whole room into an uncomfortable silence.

They weren’t flustered from the date, they were embarrassed. Humiliated. They had probably been waiting for that douchebag to show up only to receive false hope and pitying glances. And he just had to add insult to injury by being when he clearly should’ve just listened, should’ve stopped, should’ve comforted them. He can finally see the tears that began to stream down their face.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be in my room.” 

“Fuck, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he–”

But they had already slammed their bedroom door with a force that shook the place. Guy stayed sitting on the couch, all alone once more. Great, you just had to be a dick because of your stupid fucking…feelings about the thought of them spending their time with someone else! 

He’s pathetic.

Here he was brooding over his roommate going out on a date only for whoever that moron was to throw away the fucking chance to spend time with them. But maybe he’s the bigger moron in this case. The guilt seeped into his bones and he felt them ache. What is going on with him? He was supposed to be there for them. To be a decent friend. But now, he just ruined their already shitty night more.

Truly pathetic.

His eyes darted to the last line he had typed on his laptop and he held his breath.

"The sea is a jealous being."

The lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He needs to make it up to them.

—

This is stupid. This is fucking stupid.

They should have never gone with it. They should have never accepted that asshole’s offer in the first place. 

The faint sounds of an old TV series played from their phone, which had long been abandoned within patterned sheets, accompanied the figure that was currently trembling under the blankets. Stuttering, hiccuped gasps filled the room with a suffocating gloom. They think their hoarse throat couldn’t handle another broken sob to let out, having already cried every single last drop of their wallow out hours ago, their hot cheeks sticky from its tears. 

It wasn’t like this was the first time something involving relationships didn’t work out with them. They were used to it. They should be used to it—being left out, avoided, and unwanted. (It’s just a stupid date, it wasn’t even meant to be serious. Why are you making it a big deal? Why are you so affected?)

Why are they so affected by this? What made them think they were all-so-suddenly desirable to someone? Why did they even think they had a shot at all this lovey-dovey shit in the first place? 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’re shit with expressing their emotions and even shittier with dealing with them. Their outburst a while ago was a testament to that, shouting at Guy when he didn’t know any better. Maybe everything tonight was doomed from the start, then. They should’ve expected the hurt. Heartbreak was far from being a stranger to them at this point.

A tired groan came out of them again. 

Tired. They’re so tired.

Hungry rumbles erupted from their stomach. Damn it. Thanks to their ‘date’, they weren’t able to eat. Fuck it. Waiting out until Guy’s in bed and sneaking out of their room to eat would probably be the best option. For now, they stay bundled in their bed—thoughts spiraling, head pounding, eyes swollen, and a heavy heart waiting for its pieces to be picked up again.

Then they’ll sleep it off like always. And then they’ll confront him about it, play it off like it’s another bad day so he’ll stop worrying because they know he will. Everything’s back to normal— they’ll apologize for the overreaction, he’ll joke about it and everybody goes on with their lives again.

Yeah. That could work.

Knock, knock! 

“Hello?”

What the–? Ugh. For the love of–

“Hello? Roomie? You there?”

When they wanted to confront the roommate that they snapped at, they didn’t mean right now!

“What do you want, Guy?” 

“Can you come out, please? It’s…important.” 

They finally stood up from their blanket cocoon, hastily wiping the tears from their eyes to try and ‘shoo’ their roommate away. The door swung open, ready to put on their whole grumpy facade again. “Guy, I’m not really in the mood for–”

“Good evening, prestige customer! Your dinner awaits.”

What.

“Wha-- How did– When did you–?” Not giving any mind to Guy’s abominable impersonation of a British accent nor the messy scrawls of black ink on paper that vaguely resembles a mustache taped to his mouth, their eyes wander around the living room, confused and curious. 

The atmosphere was completely different from the bleak apartment they had been enduring for months. Multicolored lights that they usually use for the holidays hung around the area, providing the dim room with enough light to give a dreamy ambiance. The small foldable table set they had for eating was moved to the middle, covered in what they remembered to be Guy’s freshly cleaned checkered blanket that they had just picked up from the laundry when they were doing errands. 

On the table were some scented candles in mismatched glass containers, and two servings of a dish they couldn’t recognize. They even noticed faint jazzy music playing in the background to imitate the mood of a pretentiously lavish restaurant.

Overall, the decor clashed together horribly, yet despite that, they’d never seen the apartment so charming. The improvised set-up looks endearingly…cozy. 

“Come, let me guide you to your table,” Guy, err, the waiter, dressed in a white longsleeved button-up and apron, led them to the center, pulling out a chair and tucking the napkin he had around the collar of their shirt. The man directed their attention to the ceramics containing what seemed to be their dinner this evening.

“Our main course that the chef has prepared for tonight is a creative twist of a classic European dish composed of a rich tomato-based sauce paired with a unique and innovative pasta shell shape, garnished with traditional Italian herbs and spices.” “Guy, that’s a bowl of SpagetthiOs with some dried basil sprinkled on top,”

“Shush! Don’t ruin the immersion. And I am not Guy! I’m a waiter! Ahem!” The totally legitimate server who is not their roommate coughed very un-fakely, before composing himself in a more very real professional stance (then again, that might actually be real, seeing that he also serves the tables at Max’s when he’s not out delivering). 

“I believe your date has returned. A very dashing fellow if I do say so myself, consider yourself lucky!” Guy suddenly ducked down out of view (though they could very much see him all the same) removing the mustache and button-up to reveal a shirt with a tacky tuxedo print on it. 

He stood up, fixed a few strands of his hair that stuck up from his sudden movement, and looked at the person in front of him with a beaming expression. 

“Hey, honey! Just got back from the restroom. Wow! The food looks amazing!”

All ‘Honey’ could do was stare dumbfoundedly before covering their smiling mouth with a trembling hand. A small chuckle became a bemused giggle until eventually they were full-on belly-laughing.

“H-Honey? Really? Where did you even get that from? And what the hell are you w-wearing?” Their voice shook, unable to contain any semblance of composure. This whole situation felt like it was pulled straight from a rom-com. 

Guy laughed with them as he sat down to his side of the table. “Oh, so you like it? The nickname…came to me naturally. Feel like it suits you a lot, seeing how sweet you are to me, right?”

 Honey, huh? They wouldn’t mind him calling them that. 

“Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I think I look the most classy I’ll ever be!”

“Well, I’m underdressed then.” Their laughter had died down, slowly processing everything going on, well, it made them want to cry. All of this, for them? It’s too much trouble to go through.

“Nah, you’re fine! And besides, you look pretty all the time—which by the way, is absolutely not fair! I’m supposed to be the hot roommate here!” He declared with a mock offended tone as he sassily put his hands on his hips. Honey hoped he wouldn’t notice how their cheeks burned at how casually he called them ‘pretty’, like it was second nature.

“Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you underdress some more, ehh–”

It was his comfortingly familiar lewd quips, something they didn’t realize they missed hearing, yet why did their eyes water instead? The sobs that they weren’t aware they had been keeping in broke their dam again. Their cheeks must’ve grown tired from their crying all night, but this time, these weren’t tears for some dickhead that ditched them. 

The abrupt stop of laughter and panicked sputtering from Guy after hearing their croaky sniveling would have had Honey laughing if they weren’t already struggling to breathe from their convulsive crying. “Oh, fuck! Uh, okay, sorry! I’m sorry! Bad timing! I shouldn’t have joked–”

“No, no, Guy, I’m sorry I–” They let out a shaky breath. “Wh–why did you go through all the trouble for me? I-I snapped at you and I don’t–,” hands wildly gestured around their surroundings. “–deserve all of this! I don’t– I’m so sorry I–”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You deserve this, okay? If someone like Kayla gets to share a night with her boyfriend then you, out of all people, deserve to spend your weekend having a great time and I won’t let some jerk ruin that for you,” He looked at Honey in the eyes with a sincerity that involuntarily made them shiver.

It’s not often that Guy was this serious with them. It was only reserved for moments when it was late at night and their teasing and gossip turned into deeper talks about anything and everything. They forgot how intense the look in his pretty eyes could get, how it felt like he saw through them, through their very being.

“I’m…one of those jerks, too. I really shouldn’t have said those words to you. You’re not selfish or an asshole. Your date was the asshole for not showing up and that’s a reflection on him rather than yourself. I just sprouted out those stupid things because I was just…bitter that you had your own plans when I really didn’t have the right to be.” Among other things. He decided not to bring up the other messy emotional stuff in his head. It’s not what they need to hear right now. “I’m really sorry for pushing you. I…really hope that you can forgive me but I would understand if you won’t.”

“I forgive you, Guy. Thank you for… for all of this. It really means a lot.”

They shared a tender smile as they continued their chatting with their dinner. By the time they cleaned the dishes and put everything back in its original place, the pair plopped down on the soft cushions of their sofa. Guy shifted himself into a better position to face Honey.

“I’m surprisingly still not sleepy. What else do you wanna do for tonight?”

“Hm…Smash?”

“Honey! How scandalous! Take me out to dinner first! Oh, well technically, I already did, so I guess your wish is my command after all—Ow!”

“I meant the game, you freak!” --- THIS FIC TOOK SOOOOO LONG i was so close to giving it up BUT WE'RE HERE EYYYY also this was suppose to have a bonus scene but ehhhh idk where i was going with it rlly rlly hope you enjoyed ;--; i'm still not rlly happy with how i wrote this but there are some parts that i rlly like so i decided to post it HAHAHAHA feel free to give me feedback :DD and have a nc day/night!!

[enden-k]

Oh yea i didnt mean it in a personal way that was just badly phrased sorry. (Realising after typing it out that "why i need that hug" is only making sense in my head. Or maybe it doesnt make sense in english how i mean it sorry again)

I just like the concept so much of Vika and Saran. The drawing how he gets craddle knowing that he will get eventually eaten but they are so fluffy and healthy and tearing at the boys because AAAAHHH. Im so obsessed with this concept right now, maybe its my sick brain needing something to cling too. Tenderness in a darker concept.

And keeping it short. Do you get the concept of liking a character a certain specific way but everyone else i want to talk with about the character is just like "yea he is hot, yea he looks cool" but they never go into deeper character analysing ways and then i dont want to talk with them at all about that character.

-🐉

kjasbk its ok its ok

i like to think vika and sarans relationship is like this whole "dark love" themed, but in a consensual, non toxic way as i usually like AHHA (toxic yaoi/yuri my beloved). the super early super first idea was to go into toxic iirc but as i fleshed out their dynamic, saran turned so soft and gentle with vika and i like this so much better. it feels like its supposed to be like this with them: love and tenderness in a gloomy/dark setting

theres genuine, tender, healthy love for each other, both being right there when the other needed it the most. all vika wants is to look into sarans eyes and bask in these feelings and sarans love he finds there, yet every look costs him minutes of his life. their love is literally eating at him but its what he willingly chose and what brings him happiness. and he knows even when his time comes and he will be devoured completely, he will be with saran beyond death. all they do, its all mutual, its all consensual, its all tender.

im aro but whenever i draw them im like whoag this must be what love feels like. my hearts so full haha

overall im kinda trying to give them this "it looks like this but you have to look deeper to properly see" thing like. from the outside it looks like saran trapping vika in his hold and gaze and not letting him escape ever while in truth, its saran keeping him safe and cradled. or whenever saran babbles. the ambiguous meaning?? fooling ppl on first sight?? "look deeper or properly, its not how it seems at first." idk how to describe. maybe i also suck at conveying it AHHAHAHAHKAJSBCKJ

anw im rambling, idk where i wanted to go wtih this. i rlly cant shut up abt them LMAO sorry. im really happy to see how you like them and whats going on with them tho, this means a lot

ALSO I UNDERSTAND THAT SO WELL. i have the tendency to study a character under a microscope if i really really enjoy them and when i tried (i dont talk much to ppl anymore so its all in the past) to talk abt them to ppl who claimed to love them as much as i and then it turned out it was just superficial/surface level, i could feel my excitement shattering and just didnt discuss character studies or lore etc anymore. ofc ppl can like character how they want, im not saying its bad. i just always felt a bit alone/disappointed/embarrassed whenever it happened so im just keeping to myself now. so yeaa i get that

[cyandreamzaceattorney]

✧ Lunch hangout ✧

Yesterday I finished a marker drawing I have been working on on and off for a week because I felt like drawing a scene rather than characters posing in some ambiguous space XD.

I ended up drawing Kay, Ema, Franziska and Maya all hanging out because I really love the idea of these four being friends and just going to a takeaway restaurant together even though they're all very different from each other. I had a lot of fun drawing this, not only because I designed a fun takeaway space (cuz most takeaway chain restaurants look like sad generic hipster cafes if they've been updated/built in the last 15 years and I was not going to draw that!) but also because I do like how much story telling I was able to convey in this drawing and, I definitely want to try and draw more story telling art this year!

Only things I dislike about this drawing is Ema's outfit, though I think it's mostly the colours throwing me off because, I was avoiding giving her a green outfit, and also avoiding giving her a pink shirt (cuz Maya's shirt is pink) leading to it's current colour palette... maybe the pants bring brown would've saved it? Idk. Still like the design though (it's inspired by mid 2000s fashion because that definitely influenced her aa4 design imo).

But I really like everything else, with Maya putting chips on her burger being my favourite part. Because it's something I did when I used to enjoy fast food and, I definitely feel like Franziska is snobby enough to judge Maya for doing this XD. I also had a lot of fun designing all the outfits, especially Kay and Maya's because their outfits reference game lore relating to them both :3.

Oh and I drew Kay flat cuz I was talking to an aa fan online, and they hc Kay and non-binary and think Kay would totally enjoy being more aerodynamic post top surgery, and while I'm not sure what gender I personally hc Kay as, I do like the idea of Kay getting top surgery regardless of gender and enjoying being more aerodynamic as it makes being a great thief a lot easier! :D

Anyways I hope you all enjoy this drawing, I most likely won't post more stuff in near future, let alone aa fanart, as I have a big thing happening in my personal life next week (if all goes well!) that will unfortunately mean I'll probably not be able to draw much, if at all, over the following weeks.

Furthermore my aa hyperfixation is kinda going away, I think? Still love the franchise, just not as intensely as I have over the past few months so that may affect how often I feel like doing aa fan works. Hope you all understand :-)

[tencrushesperday]

Now I Can See You - Rutger McGroarty

summary : when did things get so complicated ? They always get complicated when you overthink. Maybe if you acted more with your heart and less with your head you wouldn’t be locked up in a room with Rutger.

pairing : rutger mcgroarty x junior! reader

TW: implications of sex, insecurities (idk if it’s really a tw but better to be safe than sorry)

a/n : you just KNOW i had to use a Taylor song name for the tittle. i wrote this one a few weeks/ months ago and @sillinger said i should post it so here it is. idk what i did here and honestly i’m not good with criticism so if u don’t like pls just ignore it <3

You and Jacob met in Algebra first semester of freshman year. Your friendship was strategic on both parts. You wanted to cut ties with your shy high school persona and become a free spirit college student who knows how to have fun. He needed to pass that Algebra class. It was a win-win relationship : you passed him your notes and explained to him what he didn’t understand and he invited you to hockey or frat parties. Getting along also kinda helped.

Therefore, for the next few years, you became inseparable at parties. Beer pong partners, couch interlocutors, he would always have his arm swung around your shoulder. If the sibling energy wasn’t so prominent your friends would have assumed you were a couple. But you always had each other’s backs and nothing even remotely ambiguous ever happened.

When in junior year, Jacob introduced you to the freshmen.

You thought Rutger was cute the moment you laid eyes on him.

You got to know later that the first impression was mutual because he would flirt with you any chance he got.

But he flirted with anybody anyway. You noticed after the few first parties that he was quite popular with the ladies.

Therefore you never took his comments seriously. You were looking for a serious relationship. He was probably looking for a new conquest to add to his list.

It wasn’t something you were interested in.

Until that fateful night. You needed to take the edge of that night. You’ve had a stressful week before, filled with presentations and assignments to turn in. So, you - just- needed to relax. You’ve had a few of whatever Nolan had concocted you. Rutger complimented your dress when you where sitting on the stairs together. Everything happened fast that damned night.

After that it didn’t take long for the dress to find itself on the floor, and what needed to happen happened.

~~

In that moment you hated Jacob more than anything. Why did he have to go and meddle. You realise you should have never told him about Rutger.

At least you had the decency to not tell him how much you actually liked the freshman. You would have never heard the end of it.

But now you’re stuck in this room with him and you know that whatever Jacob is doing right now he’s not letting you out of the room before you and Rutger talk.

Yet he doesn’t seem like he has much to say, so you keep your mouth shut as well. You want to know what he’s thinking. You want to apologise for running away in the morning, for leaving him with a cold bed, for ignoring him afterwards.

But you know it’s useless. He doesn’t care. He probably slept with at least another girl since then. What was it a week, ten days, since?

You’re the one who would have wanted to wake up in the stupidly warm arms, pressed to his stupidly toned chest. He was probably relieved when he didn’t have to kick you out in the morning.

But the silence is awkward so small talk it is, you decide.

Yet the moment you start talking to ask how he’s doing, he interrupts you.

“Why’d you leave in the morning?” he sounds disappointed.

Wait. Does he?

You don’t know what to say so you just say what you truly thought since the beginning, “I didn’t want to wait for you to kick me out.”

He widens his eyes at you. Really it’s comical the way his mouth hangs open for a second before he asks “Is it really what you think of me? That I would have kicked YOU out in the morning?” He insists on the word you and you don’t know what to think of it.

You’re left speechless. What can you answer to that anyway, except for yes. He looks so offended already, that wouldn’t help.

“I know I’m just a freshman hockey player. But i thought.. with you being friends with Truss and all… maybe you’d have a better image of me… I thought… i thought i finally got you to look my way…”

Now it was your turn to look at him with wide eyes as you only manage to say one thing. “What?”

“It’s okay I understand it was a mistake for you. I’m younger and you probably don’t have the time to deal with me but can we please remain…”

What? No, no, no. After the word mistake not much makes sense to you. You don’t hear him anymore. Where did he get that idea?

“Wait. What? No, no, no. It was not a mistake for me, not at all. I just… I thought you wanted me gone after you got what you wanted… I… I thought you’d get bored of me and kick me out and start ignoring me after we slept together…”

You’re ashamed to admit how insecure you are.

“Is you esteem of me really that low?” Rutger’s question really surprises you. And is it pain you hear filling his voice?

“I genuinely like you, did since the beginning. And i couldn’t get you to see me. You always acted like i was a kid and I almost lost hope honestly. But I wanted you - I want you - so I kept trying to flirt with you. The moment you followed me into that room, I’ve never been more happy, and when you started kissing me back I swear I’ve felt more awake than ever. I just had to remember everything about you, about your body. I asked you what seemed like a thousands times to me if you were sure of what you wanted and you just kept shutting me up with new kisses until I gave in.”

The images he was depicting, you knew them all too well. You had replayed the night in your head too many times to count. It still gave you goosebumps.

“I’m so sorry” You knew he wasn’t done but you had to say it out loud. Still, you didn’t know if it was enough. You had hurt him in order to protect your own feelings, you could see that now. It was unfair to him.

“I am so so sorry Rutger. I never thought of you as a kid… Really. Never. I’ve noticed you since we met…”

Jacob’s room wasn’t so big but in this moment, as you took small steps towards Rutger, it seems miles long. You didn’t know what to say anymore. You wanted to tell him just how much you like him and how much you want him but the words wouldn’t get out. Being vulnerable has always been difficult for you and you’re so used to doing everything to protect your feelings.

But this is not on him and you know it. He told you everything he had to say. He said he liked you, he said he wanted you. Yet you still can’t believe him. Damn those insecurities.

“More than anything I’m sorry for being insecure. I was convinced you would get bored of me so I shut you out from the beginning. It wasn’t fair to you”

How can you tell him you like him too? And now he’s so close, he is all around you, and all you want to do is kiss him again.

“Do you really mean what you said earlier?” It may sound pathetic. It probably does but you have to be sure.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at you. Then he leans in and it’s enough of an answer.

[batsplat]

What was the deal with dovi and his two teammates he did NOT get along with? Personal dislike or what?

so I've rattled off the actual details of the dovi/jorge feud here and this post gives great insight for dovi/iannone. the thing about dovi is that it's kind of funny that it happened twice to him of all people, you know? and the fact that there's (to my knowledge) been fuck all reconciliation? like I said here:

which I think is probably like... my general explanation. it's a) circumstance and b) abysmal interpersonal chemistry. in both cases, you've met the general criteria for intra-team issues:

I should have added that the first criterion is a little more complex than that, because it's also about how competitive the bike is versus expectations. if you thought you were going to be fighting for a title and you're not because the bike is shit, then that's not really the time and place to be starting feuds. but by 2015 ducati was very much on the way up again: for a hot moment early that year it looked like dovi might be a genuine title threat in that year and in 2016 they got their first win since 2010. so, suddenly you've got a manufacturer that's reevaluating its current line up and deciding they want a bigger name to lead the actual title charge... which is where you get the stakes from in both those feuds. dovi/iannone was driven in large part by 'which one of us will get fired' and dovi/lorenzo had the tension of 'this is not the challenger ducati was expecting'. so now you are competing over something a little more substantial... and that makes the difference between 'ah whatever I can paper over these interpersonal tensions' and 'you know what fuck this guy'

the interpersonal chemistry question is obviously more opaque, and again you have to say dovi just got a little unlucky in that regard. from how he talks in his autobiography, it seems like the first feud was just a bit of a radical mismatch of personalities. in iannone, dovi sees someone who is arrogant, obsessed with image and too concerned with beating dovi. it's not exactly a surprise that dovi was severely displeased when he thought he would be dropped for iannone. with jorge... well, you can really see how the competitiveness comes in here, right - the relationship was broadly cordial in 2017 when jorge was in the wilderness and then swiftly deteriorated when he actually got to grips with the bike

also, clearly jorge had some slightly weird stuff going on with dovi... idk, some of the passages read like he thought dovi kinda looked down on him? constantly talking about how clever dovi is, how dovi knows what he's doing... the thing about jorge is that he had a lot of stuff going on as a young man and he was overthinking a lot of things... and some of those things were definitely his rivals... and that did affect several of those relationships for quite a few years. then there's the stuff where jorge repeatedly says how much effort he put into that relationship, celebrating dovi's results in 2017, dovi not appreciating it... I mean, maybe? I can imagine dovi being extremely unmoved by this lol, and certainly not feeling like it means jorge has any credit in the bank the following year. he doesn't like jorge, which is fine... but then occasionally he says something in the press with just enough ambiguity that it allows jorge to go absolutely ape shit and it spirals from there. just a bad combination, really. jorge thought he'd be number one, dovi was very possessive of that project and not willing to cede the lead without one hell of a fight... and they have history and they're both not really particularly willing to give each other the benefit of the doubt. not great

as much as I obviously wasn't being serious calling dovi an awful teammate, he's also not that conflict-averse. he's always been opinionated, reasonably willing to get into arguments (including with the ducati higher ups) and also clearly willing to judge his fellow riders, often quite harshly. he's perhaps not particularly inclined to change his mind either once he's made it up... definitely a character, and perhaps not the type who's really interested in reevaluating relationships post-retirement. jorge on his part has mended quite a few bridges, but it really is just with his fellow aliens - you'll note he's repeatedly incredibly rude about dovi's track record and lack of premier class titles. jorge in general can have a bit of a habit of 'punching down' in a way you won't really get from the other aliens. his nostalgia-inflected warmth towards other riders again really does seem pretty limited to just the aliens, which is how you get him doing instagram throwbacks to motegi 2010 (bonkers lol) and all this *gestures* dani stuff... but with him and dovi, neither of them have really made an effort, and I doubt they will. dovi's the type of guy who wants to see himself as honest and straightforward with these things, so no forcing reconciliation after the fact I reckon. what's wrong with a couple of burnt bridges, right

[marigoldbaker]

one last chance to make it real

idk sometimes the writing possesses me. decided to write a little more set in that ambiguous modern au soup where i keep throwing all my ocs -- this time about thea finally kinda figuring out how to feel about jasmine, so definitely warnings for mentions of grooming, a high school teacher/student relationship, etc.

It was such a fucking anticlimactic end to everything, after everything. Jasmine came round just like she always did, always had, laughed at how surprised Thea looked, said something sugar-sweet on the front porch, and then the girls got home from school. Rosie had just gotten her drivers’ license the other day, which meant Thea didn’t have to drive round and pick them up anymore—they were all so excited about that, about Rosie being old enough to drive, trustworthy enough to drive Thea’s car. Apparently she’d been bragging about it to anyone who would listen at school, and she’d already started attaching bumper stickers that said things like HONK IF YOU LOVE ONE DIRECTION.

Thea still wasn’t sure what was so special about one direction. Usually you needed to make a few turns here and there to get anywhere. She’d said as much to Rosie and the girl had just about keeled over giggling, and then she’d told the whole thing to Jane, and Jane had fallen over sideways into a postcard stand because she was laughing too hard, which probably meant it was one of those new-generation things that eluded Thea. Course Jane was only about a half decade younger than here, but there was still a bit of a gap. Not as much as there was between Thea and Jasmine, though.

Jasmine turned when she saw the car pulling up the driveway. The last time she’d been round was during the girls’ winter break, back when they were in elementary school. Thea had sent the girls to go stay with Jane and Caleb, because by that point she knew Jasmine was really just visiting to prove that she could, even after—god, nearly forty years. She wasn’t expecting Jasmine to stay, but she let Jasmine think that she was, if it made Jasmine feel a bit better—imagining that Thea was still in that nervous high school stasis, waiting for that beautiful substitute drama teacher to finally leave her husband so that they could run away together. It was like a marriage, almost, except not really. Thea didn’t know why she still let Jasmine come round.

The girls were getting out of the car. Roslin was still in her cheerleading outfit, her bright pink hair tied up in those big pink puffs, and Lenora was wearing an oversized sweatshirt of Thea’s that was clearly meant to disguise the too-short skirt and fishnets that Thea had told her she wasn’t to fucking wear to school, she’d get dress coded, and they’d already been called into the middle school enough times over Marigold misusing lab equipment that they were under scrutiny from the high school as to Thea’s fitness as a parent. So Thea was really just thinking about that, because everything always stopped when the girls showed up, when Jasmine said, a laugh in her voice, “Oh, and which one of them’s your girlfriend, then?”

Thea turned very slowly. The girls were still too far down the drive to have heard. She didn’t say anything at all, because what the fuck could you say to shit like that? Something was turning over in her head that hadn’t before.

Jasmine was still smiling, prettily, like she didn’t see what she’d said wrong. Like it was funny, now. Like what she’d done was something that they could joke about, years later, and maybe it had been for a very long time. But.

“Get the fuck off my porch,” said Thea.

Jasmine’s smile froze. Forty years, and Thea had never once said anything like that in that tone of voice. She didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“I fucking mean it,” said Thea. “Get the fuck off my porch. Get out of my house. Get out of my life.”

The girls were far enough up the drive to have heard that. They were all standing there, sweetest little biscuits in Thea’s life, the most important things in the entire world, with their fresh faces and their bright eyes and—and Rosie was only a year younger than Thea had been when Jasmine had kissed her after class. If a teacher in that school ever kissed Rosie after class, they would have to put Thea in fucking prison for fucking murdering that teacher.

Something had shifted sharply into focus.

Jasmine said, forty years too late, “Thea—” and she didn’t sound apologetic, she sounded afraid. She looked like a bug did when you raised a rock and shone a light on it. “Thea,” she tried again. “Althea. I—”

And then Rosie, bless her, edged past Jasmine on the porch, violently enough that Jasmine’s designer high heel got stuck between the wooden slats and snapped sideways as she tried to steady herself. She had to grab onto the porch railing to keep from tipping down the stairs. Rosie ignored Jasmine entirely, of course, just grabbed Thea’s arm like she did every day she got home, clinging like a little limpet. Kissed her on the cheek. “Hi, Mommy!” she sang. “We totally didn’t crash your car today!”

Thea saw the word mommy register with Jasmine, who had gone very, very pale, and who was now trying with particular urgency to remove her high heel from the porch. She kept her eyes on Jasmine, because that was what you did when there was a fucking monster that near your daughters. You did not take your eyes off the thing for even a second. “Rosie, go inside,” she said.

Rosie wavered with that oldest-sister inclination that was lovely on days when Thea wanted extra help with the dishes and a bit much to handle on days when Rosie thought Thea needed extra help with taxes. Some things were a bit too grown-up for sixteen-year-olds, even sixteen-year-olds with a drivers’ license. Norie, though, older sister without being the oldest, curled her fingers into the crook of Rosie’s elbow and towed her into the house.

Mari was the last up the porch steps. She stopped in the doorway, and her eyes met Jasmine’s.

For a heart-stopping and deeply fucking irrational moment, Thea thought, hysterically, it’s going to happen all over again and I can’t stop it. But Marigold—well, Marigold refurbished the school’s microscopes, Marigold didn’t see the point of rules when they inconvenienced her, Marigold colored within the lines but used all the wrong colors to do it. So Marigold, improbably, tilted her head, staring at Jasmine with hard-honey eyes, and said, “Hey, um, respectfully, you’re totally ruining the aesthetic of our porch? Like, Rosie worked really hard to pick out all these decorations, and Jane even taught us how to make a Pinterest board and everything. See, we’ve got the lawn flamingoes, we’ve got the little tiki torches, but what we didn’t put on our Pinterest board is tacky old lady in a fur coat. Have you ever even tried to learn to walk in high heels on a wooden porch? Because it’s not as hard as you’re making it look.”

And somehow all that fear and anguish rushed out of Thea like air from a balloon. She turned towards Marigold, hugging her round the shoulders. Mari’s red curls were all jammed up in her face. “Go inside and do your homework,” she said.

Marigold gave Thea a smacking kiss on the cheek and stepped into the house. She made one last face at Jasmine before shutting the door behind her.

Jasmine said, in a wobbly voice, “Those are—your daughters?”

Thea knelt down on the porch, pulling her small utility knife out, and sawed the rest of the way through Jasmine’s stuck heel, freeing her from the slat. She stood up, thought about saying more things, and found that all the things she wanted to say were jammed up inside her. Fuck you for wasting my life, she thought. Fuck you for making me think that you were all I deserved. If a pretty teacher turned Mari’s head, she’d run in that direction without even thinking about it, because that’s what kids do. I don’t know why it took me till now to figure that out.

But she wouldn’t say it right—it never came out graceful enough—and Jasmine would laugh, again, and she didn’t feel like wasting her time sitting in the stinging humiliation of that. So she just went inside and shut the door behind her.

The girls were all clustered in the living room with big, worried eyes. Thea said, “Don’t fret,” and leaned down to kiss the top of Norie’s head—sensitive little spider was the most likely to be worried longer than her sisters. “Going to go and talk to Janie, and then I’ll come home, explain what just happened. Right now, though, you girls hold down the fort, and if that bitch tries to come in again, call the police, understand?”

“Is she going to?” said Marigold, now sounding a bit uncertain.

“No,” said Thea. “She’s not. But if she does, call the police. Hit her a few times too. We’ve got a good lawyer.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Thea’s good lawyer was closing down the music shop by the time Thea made it over, but that didn’t mean shit when you had a key of your own. She unlocked the door, shut it behind her, walked through the empty sunset aisles of records and CDs and whatever the fuck else the kids were putting music on these days. There was discordant twanging coming from the back room.

Jane was tuning her guitar. She looked up with a smile when Thea came in, but there must have been something in Thea’s eyes, because her smile stilled and softened into a much more worried expression. “Allie,” she said, setting the guitar down.

Thea said, “Broke things off with Jasmine.”

Jane said, “What the fuck?”

“So anyway,” said Thea. She sat down next to Jane, picking up the guitar. “How was your day?”

Jane said, again, “What the fuck?” and then took the guitar away from Thea, holding it tightly against her like a security blanket. “Are you serious?”

Thea nodded. Her jaw was very tight. “So you can tell me how right you are, now,” she said, “about how fucking stupid that whole thing was, and I can say, yeah, it was stupid, she was fucking a teenager, I was Rosie’s age when she started making eyes at me, and she fucked up my entire fucking life, and I’ve spent my entire fucking life in—in whatever this is, with her, whenever she needs to feel young and—and fucking important, and I don’t—have—anyone, now, because I can’t—I don’t—”

Jane’s mouth pinched together like she wanted to smile but thought she probably shouldn’t. “Allie, I’m not going to luxuriate in my rightness,” she said. “This isn’t a win for me. I mean, it is, but not in the way you think.”

“Then in what fucking way?”

“She’s absolute detritus,” said Jane. “No—organic matter is still going to make the world better in the long run. She’s all that nonbiodegradable plastic we’re making nonstop and throwing into our landfills. Contributing to all those wildfires in California and the expanding polar vortex.”

“Simplify, Janie,” said Thea tiredly, “I am having the worst fucking day, and I can’t get goddamn academic about it.”

“Global warming doesn’t really qualify—” Jane started, and then winced a little and said, “Not my point. Look, I don’t care about being right, Allie, I care that she’s not anywhere near you. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Thea miserably.

“Well, all right,” said Jane. “Luxuriate in your incorrect opinions, if that’s what makes you feel better today. I need to finish tuning this thing.” She strummed her guitar experimentally, adjusting the strings. “I think it’s just about there.”

“You’re such a fucking perfectionist,” said Thea. “It sounds fine.”

Jane glanced back up at Thea. “Are you all right?”

“What? No. Fuck no. Did you know she—”

“Yes.”

“And I was—”

“Yes. The first time you told me, I tried to get you to file a police report.”

“Statute of limitations probably expired,” Thea muttered.

“Now who’s getting goddamn academic?” At Thea’s look, Jane sighed, setting the guitar down again. “Allie, I—I did what I could. I kept your kids away from her, which we both know you wanted, and we both know why you wanted it. I figured you’d get there in your own time, and I knew you wouldn’t put your daughters in danger, ever, and—” She exhaled. “I did tell you,” she said. “I tried to tell you. For years. But I think it was too much for you, at the time, and I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

“You should have tried harder.”

“I’m sure I should have.”

Thea felt the lack of an argument keenly. Jane wasn’t a lawyer anymore, at least not officially, but she still loved to argue, enough that her deciding not to argue a point meant that she really believed it. “I’m sorry, Janie,” she said. “I—I’m being unfair. I’m—”

“Not all right,” said Jane. She handed Thea the guitar. “Well, if it’s tuned well enough, you try and play something.”

Thea wasn’t half as good on guitar as Jane, but she couldn’t spend half her time with a music teacher without picking things up—or, more accurately, with Jane Medina, who wouldn’t let her live her life without knowing at least a few songs on the guitar. So she strummed the one that felt the best for right now, and Jane began to sing.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways

Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays

Roy Orbison's singing for the lonely

Hey, that's me and I want you only

Don't turn me home again

I just can't face myself alone again

Don't run back inside, darling

You know just what I'm here for

So you're scared and you're thinking

That maybe we ain't that young anymore

Show a little faith, there's magic in the night

You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright

Oh, and that's alright with me

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Thea stopped strumming.

“Always Springsteen with you,” said Jane. She moved a little closer and pressed her cheek briefly and awkwardly to Thea’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t think it is,” said Thea unsteadily.

“Well, I didn’t think it was when Caleb died,” said Jane, “and it’s still not, sometimes, but, I don’t know, sometimes it is.” She nudged Thea’s shoulder. “And I am here, Allie.”

She was. And Thea loved her so enormously that sometimes it hurt to even look at her. Today wasn’t really a day she could think about that, though, so she just let herself tip sideways into Jane. “I have to figure out what to tell the girls,” she said. “They saw me—well. I told Jasmine to fuck off, basically. Surprising how well that worked.”

“To be fair, you’ve never done that,” said Jane. “Ever. In forty years. Because you are a saint incarnate, and she knows that, and she takes advantage of it and has since you were—” She exhaled sharply through her teeth. “No. Nope. Sorry. Not my point. Jesus fucking Christ. Not my point. Every fucking day I wake up mad she’s not dead yet. Not my point.”

Thea smiled against Jane’s shoulder. “What do I tell the girls?”

“God, don’t even worry about that. I’ll handle it. You told Jasmine to fuck off; you get a break from telling the girls anything.”

“Sort of feel like you’ll tell them something that makes her sound bad.”

“Oh, sorry, should I find a nice way to talk about the statutory rapist?”

Thea stiffened.

Jane exhaled, sounding more frustrated with herself than with Thea, and said stiffly, “This is…why I don’t talk to you about it, Al. I’m not…you know I’m not good with the…I don’t know, Caleb and I were talking about it a little before he died, and he wanted to sit down with you at some point, try to walk you through it, but then that never happened, and, well.”

“No, I know,” said Thea. Her fingers closed gently around the hem of Jane’s sleeve.

“I just don’t know how to talk about her constructively,” Jane continued. “Speaking as a lawyer, I truly believe that she should be set on fire.”

“I know.”

“And you’re too good for her.”

“I—” Thea stopped. “Well, can’t say I know that.”

“Which is her fault.”

“Don’t work yourself into a lather before you figure out what to tell the girls.”

“I’m not telling them anything important,” Jane asserted. “Just that she’s a dangerous person who’s hurt teenagers before, and you were intensely unnerved by her being at your home when you’ve got three daughters to think about. I think that’s a good enough explanation.”

“Yeah,” said Thea quietly.

Jane wasn’t really one for a lot of smiling, but her expression took on a subtly softer quality as she turned to look at Thea all the way. “You are so strong,” she said, “and you fucking killed it today. I’m so goddamn proud of you.”

Thea leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Jane’s. The warm sunset threaded reds and oranges and yellows through Jane’s soft black hair.

[samislosingtheirmind]

Uhm (BFDIA 13/TPOT 12 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT)

Are we gonna talk about how Donut asked for an island full of blood? What does this even mean. Is it a call back to that one time in pre-split bfb where Marker said "Donut's a vampire too?" cause if it is that would be oddly specific. Love how Firey, Gelatin, Ice Cube, and Rocky just leave Yellow Face in the WTF and he just. Stays there lol. I half expected him to not stay there considering how he is, but whatever. I kinda wish we had more screentime for those in the TLC/LOL, but tbh I think everyone got a decent amount of screentime/lines. Any Donut content is enough Donut content for me, even if it isn't that much. As much as I do like him though he most likely couldn't beat up Snowball so idk what Match was on about. Look I think you get the point I just really like Donut. As for TPOT 12, I think the direction they're going with One is a very interesting one. They seem to be setting them up to be some sort of antagonist, or at least a morally ambiguous contractor. I don't get why they didn't go after Donut when they went after Fanny and Ice Cube but I'm sure that will come into play later cause PLEASE JACK AND JELLY FRIES LET DONUT HAVE HIS ARMS BACK IT'S KILLING ME. YOU'RE KILLING ME WITH WHAT YOU'RE DOING/ref. I definitely like Donut a normal amount. Also I think the whole thing with making the teams basically random is pretty cool, other than the fact I'd have to choose between my two favorite contestants whenever Cloudyay is UFE (Donut and Yellow Face) as long as they're both still in and we're still in this phase of teams.

[arckade]

i walk in here and i ponder ym orb on kenrrot and i ponder parrot asking wifies advice on how to get ken on a date

it's very late so my thoughts are very scrambled lmao so have my odd little ooc ramblings ^_^

wuh, yeh, he definitely goes to wifies for this

hmmmmm i can't imagine parrot knows how to woo someone, much less someone he isn't entirely familiar with, i think

i can kind of see it, like, odysseys just lounging around, working on stuff and parrot springs the question of like, 'hey, wifies, how would i ask ken out?' and unfortunate wifies has to, like, process the question for at least a minute, because where the fuck did that come from?? what??

and i like to imagine that ken's the type of person who would fall faster and harder than a meteor and would probably be already head over heels for parrot, maybe idk, maybe wifies knows that ken likes parrot but didn't know that parrot liked her back, mainly because he didn't show 'signs' that he was interested in her?? apparently??

(mainly because i kinda hc parrot to be very romance indifferent aro, in a sense that he doesn't seek it out himself most of the time, he isn't really opposed to having a romantic relationship, as long as it's with someone he's close enough or ok enough with, like wifies or ken, i think idk i'm still workshopping it lol)

i think when wifies just blankly stares at parrot, parrot would try to scramble up an explanation that he wanted to try to take ken out on an outing, whatever that may look like, platonic or romantic, i don't know how much he'd mind, he thinks ken's ok enough with ken to be ok with whatever contex, maybe

(i also really like ambiguous/unlabeled rleationship kenrrot who kiss with ambiguous context, like, not inherently romantic or platonic kissing, just kissing, i think)

hmmmmmmmmm not sure how to end this, maybe wifies tells parrot to just tell ken to go out with him, maybe go do a puzzle/escape room date type thing idk, anything that he thinks ken would enjoy and be happy about ^_^

edit : i think if kenrrot went on a escape room date, ken would poke fun at parrot for not knowing the answer when she already figures it out and parrot would ruffle up his feathers and smack her lightly with them (affectionately)

[numberonenarinderhater]

Sending this again just in case the question I sent got eaten

I kinda find it sorta wrong that the fandom at larges idea of a happy ending for the lamb ( or as happy as it can be bc of the circumstances ) always involves Narilamb and redeeming the Bishops/letting the Bishops stay in the cult

Ik the lamb is like essentially a blank slate but it feels kinda gross that the fandom kinda makes them not have much agency of their own outside of Narinder/Narilamb

Idk if I’m explaining it well but like I wish there were more “ happy” endings for the lamb ( or as happy as it can be ) and that doesn’t involve Narilamb, Redeeming Nari and/or Redeeming the Bishops

I did get the previous message, no worries! I was at the library today bc I am always expanding my mind (drawing also I work there so I was visiting on my day off) so I haven’t cracked tumblr open today since this morning.

Getting into this is actually a bit of a deep hole to travel down and we need to talk about why Narilamb and mainstream fanon is as popular as it is in this fandom. Allow me to answer this in the most long-winded way possible, in list form:

1) The Formula Works

I feel like people conflate “video game protagonist that is designed for the player to inhabit” with “vehicle for me, my interpretations, and my fantasies only”. It’s always a useless debate to “”decide”” anything about this kind of video game protagonist but we seem to fall into this argument alllll the time.

However. A character has its own functions, it’s own design purposes, and it’s own reasons for existing the way it does, regardless of how easily we can project onto them. A lot of them have an implied agency that allows us to relate to them.

Link from Legend of Zelda is a great example- they’re designed to be the perfect audience stand-in with an ambiguous gender expression and age and rarely any dialogue. However we still assume that each iteration of Link has a different personality and has different relationships with others. Link makes choices that we don’t really control and we generally assume that Link is motivated to do good. Because of that, there are certain things we have a hard time imagining Link doing (for example, running around screaming slurs and pissing in the faces of every Hyrulian villager they meet) even if you, the player, act like a jackass in the game.

Lamb doesn’t have alot of this implied agency- which isn’t a problem, mind- we just never see them make a lot of their own choices. The Lamb is also not strictly a hero that we assume is motivated to do good. Players decide how comfortable they are with punishing, killing, or cannibalizing others. That makes it easier to assume the Lamb’s motivations as one likes.

This is a great idea for a video game’s player character, as history generally shows that enabling audiences to fantasize about your art makes it way more popular for a very low cost on your end. Take hogwarts houses for example (or don’t, I hate JKR too), or vampire clans with similar powers and guiding principles, or even schools of magic that reflect a spell-caster’s personality. People like to take part in a world and a blank, almost motivation-less character lets people take the wheel on what kind of person they want to be. Not to mention it’s fertile ground for shipping (whose to say the Lamb wouldn’t date Midas if I just decide that it makes sense?)

2) It’s lame but it’s easy

Narilamb is a natural combination when you think of it this way. Neither one has a lot of implied agency and they’re arguably the two most important characters in the game. Narinder has a lot more implied agency but what exactly did Narinder do with his time before he got imprisoned? What does he like? What would he want to do with his life as a mortal? No one can say for sure so fans are free to imagine.

The two of them result in a boringly blank but easy to edit combination of the two “main” characters. It’s obvious but their dynamic can look like anything- which is appealing to people who want to consume romance but don’t like what mainstream media has to offer for one reason or another. (Aka, the majority of users on here).

You can see this evidenced by the regurgitation of popular romance tropes in Narilamb. The brooding loner asshole turned gentle lover by the love of another. The ever-patient lover who knows, by some divine providence, that they can turn the asshole into putty with the right moves. Sprinkle in a bit of Tumblr’s favorite hits:

the “chaotic” hero (lovable and fun but unconventional and even violent)

the “straight man” (the one who can react to the chaotic hero’s antics with shock or annoyance)

the “enemies” to lovers (why they’re enemies and how serious this rivalry is almost irrelevant)

the blasphemous divine (religiously traumatized enough to be hip with the kids but not so renegade as to actually say anything of substance about that. Just enough to inspire bad poems about pomegranates and honey and things like that)

Mix it all together and you have the ideal, white bread flavored Tumblr-approved romance!

3) “Fix-it Fic” Logic

Back to your actual point: the ending thing.

People like the idea of this ending bc it’s fluffy, uncomplicated, but still allows them to edit small details. Tumblr fandom has a generally difficult time accepting unhappy endings, ambiguous endings, or even just endings more complicated than “everything turned out just fine for absolutely everyone”. It’s a comforting fantasy and this tradition of ours arises out a long history with dissatisfaction.

If you’ll allow me to editorialize, I think we as a community are used to being in conflict with the source material. It wasn’t that long ago that we were the butt of all the jokes when it came to fan culture. When things didn’t work out for our favorite pairings it was more than just disappointing, sometimes it was a personal attack from the creators. And this isn’t me pulling red string out, this is documented fact.

Once Sherlock BBC and Supernatural and Hannibal and Merlin and [insert whatever else] all turned out to be a flaming let-downs for the girls and gays I think we started to associate the idea of “bad endings” with the idea of “punishment”.

We started to turn to each other and say “Sad things only happen to characters we love because they don’t want us to be happy. What’s more, we can fix it. They don’t get to ruin our ending.”

This was a fine enough response to the endings that genuinely were bullshit but I fear that it’s all we do now. Things that are meant to be read as tragedies or relationships that aren’t supposed to work out aren’t being given the room to be interpreted the way they’d like to be. Take things like the Hunger Games, the Magnus Archives, Hannibal (the series), and… *checks notes*… retellings of tragic Greek myth? Apparently?

It’s become kind of heretical to point out the fact that these ending are- and are supposed to be- upsetting and disturbing.

🚨‼️THAT IS NOT TO SAY…

That writing a new, happy ending is wrong. Rewriting an ending or writing your own ending is a valuable way of engaging with art! While we should respect tragedies and sad endings for what they are that doesn’t exclude us from writing our own versions of events either.

It’s just that I don’t really see a lot of people making the effort to hold these two ideas in their head at the same time.

4) In conclusion:

I think the fandom would like to forget that there is no “happy” ending for the Lamb. There is no “fixing it”. The other sheep are all dead and will never come back and it’s Narinder and the Bishops’ collective fault. Constructing a “happy ending” for these characters lets us feel that these uncomfortable things can be forgiven and that everything will work out somehow.

Perhaps pairing up Narinder and the Lamb makes all of those things even easier to forget.

TL;DR:

You’ll probably hear alot of naysayers and detractors complaining that we’re ruining all the fun and not letting them make silly content and happy endings about their blorbos in love. My argument is that I am just stating what the text has already told me and I think that we can make silly content and accept uncomfortable themes in our media. Or that we can have a complicated, but hopeful ending if we find that more compelling.

[v-67]

JJK S2 SPOILER ALERT!!

Watching S2 of JJK and I'm actually scared

I've kinda seen spoilers (which is why I hate spoilers) which hinted that the ending is too much. (Don't tell me anything though, idk the ending, I've just heard it's brutal)

But it's like, now I know it's going to be something brutal and it's difficult to face that.

So I'm watching S2 after having postponed it for such a long time.

And I swear, it has me gasping and laughing and fearing and everything.

And why, wHy. Why every time a character goes like : I wanna see everyone, I wanna be with everyone. And bang. Killed. 🙃

Also, rip Mechamaru. That was sad. He had just gotten his body, and he wanted to see everyone and then, again🙃

The emotional torment is brutal.

And I'm so worried about these 3 idiots, and when I saw Gojo's past w Geto, and the whole thing of protecting the star plasma vessel, in this case, Amanai, and the thing that later on happened which I referred up above.

I kinda wanna pin point what exactly was it that triggered Geto.

Was it those monks who were laughing like that? Was it Amanai's death? Or was it this over all perception which just pushed him into thinking this way towards the end? And I know he wants to build a world only w sorcerers, which will in turn/ might in turn put an end to cursed spirits or atleast limit them but I'm not sure how exactly would that happen.

But when they showed Geto's perspective, the part where he says, Exorcise, absorb.... Repeat repeat repeat. And he explains how the taste of the cursed spirit is like the one of a cloth which was used to wipe vomit. And all of that. And that is the end of the future of him as a jujutsu sorcerer seeing the dead bodies of his friends. I kinda got him a little bit, of why he was being driven towards such a goal. But I'm still not absolutely clear. I want to know what exactly triggered him, the exact point. Was it Amanai, was it seeing the dead body of his friend, was it Gojo's words, was it those star something monks? WHAT exactly was it.

And what exactly is his end goal. How is he going to do it. And why did he say that to Gojo while going away. He tells him, Are you Gojo Satoru because you are the strongest, or are you the strongest because you are Gojo Satoru? And adds to that, that if he was him, this goal would be achievable. And that he has chosen his way of life/path or something along these lines. EXPLAIN ME WHAT exactly do you mean by that? It is a bit ambiguous or am I thinking too much within that.

Also Jjk has so much information dump in every single episode😗, Like pls wait, let me comprehend what exactly is happening. I still don't have a proper grasp on what exactly is Gojo's power. Like i know, but I want to know.

Young nanami looked so much like an emo kid

Yo, also I'm worried about what's going to happen next. I'm actually a little scared of watching the next few episodes.

And also also, as of now from the place I am at anime i am given to understand that Yuji will have to die in the end because it's like what the contract was and all of that. A part of me still hopes ah, that we'll figure out something and he'll survive. But within these probabilities, where 70% weighs on death due to Sukuna and that contract and etc, I get really really sad because I don't want him to die.

I'm also worried about Megumi, the man was hell bent okay w dying. No. Not allowed sorry. I also hope his sister wakes up and that they all live happily.

I'm worried about Nobara too, she's also very unhinged. I love her unhinged energy though.

I wanna see Inumaki. He's my 🫶

Will post this after I complete the whole season 2.

Or Maybe I'll post this and make another post when I watch more episodes.

I'll post them together because i don't want someone accidentally spoiling it for me🙃❤️

Do not spoil it for me. I hate and despise spoilers. Okay? Please. Sending warm hugs. So don't, okay? Thanks.

Isss time to conquer our fears so letssss watch ahead.

.......

Oh hey, it's not so bad

I was fearing that Gojo was going to get sealed and that was it and the thought made me anxious

But they're all fighting and would get him back

Also the fights are SO SO SO GOOD.

The action is so beautifully choreographed

And it's a relief that Geto is not really Geto, Geto's body reacting to Gojo's words really made me happy. So who is this bitch in Geto's body.

Also JJK 0 is canon and relevant to the current storyline, I had no idea, I've watched it 3 times, it's crazy good.

I'm on episode 14 right now. And it's intense and dark and the fights are crazy good.

I felt bad for Ino :(( and also Ichiji san :((

Felt really really great when Nanami just broke that stupid guy <3

Also somehow Toji is now resurrected???? I was happy he was dead because I was worried about him meeting Megumi or something but what

I hope they get to break Gojo's seal.

And I hope no one dies.

.....

So I finished watching it🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Nanami died🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Idk if Nobara is alive?🙃🙃🙃

Inumaki's arm🙃

Yuji sentenced to death🙃🙃🙃

What in the fuck🙃

Gojo is still sealed🙃🙃🙃

Not the principal also being sentenced to death🙃🙃

And Gojo as a co-conspirator???? Are they out of their mind???? I think all this passing of orders is instigated from one more guy who was a traitor who is in the higher ups.

Also found out that within Geto is that creepy guy obsessed with curses from over 150 years ago

I never disliked Choso, he is a curse but he's a little different, and in the end him calling Yuji his brother was just out of the books. There must be some sort of connection though. (That scene where panda asks Yuji if he's sure he's not releasing some kinda pheromones because first Todo and now this guy)

Also Toji coming back was so out of the books, and the way he just killed himself after, it was somehow so emotional and carried so much feelings and heaviness. He did care for Megumi after all. And he helped all of them a lot tbf

Also I hope Todo is okay, and in his locket was the picture of Itadori and that idol, it was weird and sweet both😭😭😭

The stupid guy in Geto's body put the curse on 2 people, 1 was Megumi's sister and who is the other one? And what's going to happen to Megumi's sister. It's scary. (Don't give me spoilers, I'm curious, but don't spoil it)

Everything took a dark turn and I have to wait for years now to see what happens next🙃 ( I mean I know I can read but I wanna watch anime) (don't give me spoilers pls)

But seriously what the fuck🙃

Not Nanami guys, not Nanami😭

The fights were indeed crazy good but the trauma is greater🙃

....

Completed watching JJK S2, I was right when I said in the beginning that I was scared to watch it.

30th June, 2024.