#and the duvet is warm and so light it's like sleeping beneath a cloud

[unfortunatelycake]

On the one hand I'm so not looking forward to having to put on a coat every time I leave the house but on the other hand I am so looking forward to being snuggled up beneath multiple blankets at night, like sign me up for warmth and comfort

[monzamash]

needed me — lando norris

"sorry for the cuddling. i'm usually not this clingy." lando norris x you rating – mature; mostly fluff with a sprinkle of innuendo masterlist

The weekend had been rough. From beginning to end, it was a scrap for Lando – nothing going his way, no silver lining to salvage. Waste of fucking time, he growled once his helmet came off and was shoved into his trainer’s arms, barely even glancing your way. Disappearing into hospitality, never resurfacing until he was ready to leave the track. Alone.

Darkness blanketed the Bahrain skies, black clouds ominously looming above and painfully complimenting Lando’s race. It was poetic in a way and you found comfort in the dimly lit gloom, curling up in your hotel bed with a book and glass of wine. You needed it to distract you from the phone taunting you on the bedside table. No new notifications, no texts, no calls – radio silence from the one person you couldn’t stop thinking about.

The click of your hotel door opening made your heart skip, the shadow of the man you had become all too familiar with slinking up your walls until he appeared in the door way – all hoodie clad and cosy. You closed your book and sat up against the mountain of pillows, a soft smiling lining your lips as Lando shyly shuffled across the carpet beneath his sneakers.

“Am I gonna have to revoke your key card privileges?” You asked, watching him kick off his shoes and jumper while you flipped open your duvet, summoning him under the warm covers.

Lando shook his head, curls falling into his eyes as he sighed deeply and crawled in beside you, “Please don’t. I’ll never recover.”

You hummed in amusement, hanging your arm out over the pillows and pulling him into your side. He was warm to the touch always, nuzzling into your neck as soon as he was close enough – annoyingly clingy in the best way. He was your friend first, maybe more now but you never spoke about it.

Having him this close was all you needed, it was what you craved on those lonely nights and you assumed by the way he always came to your room after a long day that the feeling was mutual.

“I needed to see you… couldn’t sleep,” He whispered into the air, eyes focused on the intricately detailed ceiling above.

“Neither could I so you made the right call."

Your tone was light, almost airy and Lando was broken from his distant gaze and brought right back to you – a grin teasing his lips. The sudden realisation that you wanted him here hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

“Sleeping in your bed is always the right call.”

The blush that roared across your face was disguised by the darkness you laid in, fingers mindlessly brushing through his dense curls that tickled your cheeks. Lando’s fingertips drew shapes on the forearm that kept him tucked into your side – his mind finally slowing down enough to enjoy the silence. Comfortable, effortless silence that made him feel like he was home.

“You comfy?” You asked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his nodding head.

Lando closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your embrace, “Sorry for the cuddling – I’m usually not this clingy,” He whispered in return, causing your eyebrows to rise and a quiet scoff to slip from your lips.

You could see the devilish smirk plastered across his sweet face when you looked down, rolling your eyes and giving his curls a playful tug, eliciting a moan.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your question wasn’t prying and Lando knew that – and maybe tomorrow in the harsh light of day he would have to but right now, with your soft, inviting lips taunting every ounce of self-control he had left, he shook his head. Subtle but you caught it, along with the glimmer in his eyes that told you he couldn’t bear to relive any of it this soon.

“Do you wanna kiss about it instead?” You asked, blinking a couple of times before Lando was lifting his head from your shoulder and meeting you in the middle.

“Yes please,” He mumbled before capturing your lips, hands grasping your face to bring you closer – desperation and adoration in every single searing kiss he pressed to your skin.

[wonsters]

⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀𓏸 ⠀WAiTiNG ROOM : FRUTiGER-AERO⠀𓇼

This isn’t just a place to wait—it’s a place to be. Somewhere that exists outside of time and space, built entirely to serve your desires. The air hums with the soft buzz of infinite possibility as your thoughts shape the world around you. Here, relaxation is an art form, indulgence is encouraged, and everything is at your fingertips. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bars that cater to your whims ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The air hums softly with the clinking of delicate glasses and the murmur of your favourite melodies in the background. The bartender—perhaps a charming stranger, a famous actor, or a friendly AI in human form—knows your every preference without a word. Drinks appear like magic, tailored to your every mood: sparkling fruit spritzers that dance on your tongue, creamy milkshakes topped with edible gold dust, or dark, rich coffees brewed just so. Every sip feels like a new discovery, a little celebration of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀kitchens overflowing with endless delights ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The kitchen is no ordinary room; it’s a sprawling paradise where the scent of fresh bread, simmering spices, and buttery pastries dances through the air. Counters gleam in polished marble, cupboards stretch endlessly, and every drawer holds a surprise. Say the word and a feast appears—perfectly plated sushi with intricate designs, steaming bowls of soul-warming ramen, and a cake so decadent it could make angels weep. There’s no limit. Want a perfectly nostalgic home-cooked meal like your mom’s? Or a creation plucked from your wildest culinary dreams? Done. The fridge hums happily, never empty, and the oven is always warm. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bedrooms crafted for rest and dreaming ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

Here lies the softest haven in existence, where sleep becomes an art form and dreams feel like journeys. The beds are immense, swathed in silk sheets and duvets that feel like a cloud’s embrace. Pillows mould perfectly to your head, each one cooler than the last, and the air smells faintly of lavender and rain. There’s always the perfect playlist for relaxation—soft whispers of the wind, delicate piano, or the gentle patter of rain against the window. And when you close your eyes? You drift effortlessly into dreams of golden fields, starlit skies, or anywhere your heart longs to wander. Even just lounging here feels like a rebirth. Time doesn’t matter—here, you’re held. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀rituals of serenity and liquid escapes ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Step into a realm of ultimate relaxation, where the bathroom and swimming areas blend into a sanctuary of indulgence. The bathroom is a spa-like retreat, with chrome surfaces glowing under soft, golden light and the scent of lavender and eucalyptus in the air. Rainfall showers offer endless settings, while deep clawfoot tubs invite you to soak away every worry. Beyond, the swimming areas unfold like a dream—an infinity pool shimmers beneath a glowing dome of stars, while a hidden heated lagoon nestles among lush greenery. For playful moments, a vibrant pool awaits with slides, waterfalls, and floating loungers fitted with snack trays. Whether it’s the silk-like flow of water in the bath or the crystal-clear embrace of the pool, every corner invites you to escape and rejuvenate. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀cinemas where anything comes to life ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

A cinema beyond your wildest imagination sprawls before you: plush seats that recline into near-nests of comfort, buttery popcorn and candy appearing at the snap of your fingers. But what’s on the screen? Anything. You want to watch a book you love turned into a perfectly directed masterpiece? Done. A fanfiction visualized with your dream cast, every scene sculpted exactly to your taste? It’s playing now. Want to relive moments from a DR or watch your favourite actor perform just for you? All here. The screen is endless, the quality so crisp, that it feels like you could step inside. And you can—should you choose, the scenes could stretch around you, pulling you into worlds of your own creation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀a phone that bridges worlds ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Resting delicately on a nightstand or tucked into your hand like a lifeline is the ultimate phone—a device that bends to your will. Its surface gleams softly, showing apps that let you scroll through TikTok or Instagram with ease. Every post feels perfectly curated, and time itself stretches so you never feel rushed. Handle accounts across your DRs, text your CR/DR friends as if they’re right there beside you, and exist on the edge of reality. Call someone who lives in the place you’re headed, or scroll just for the joy of it. This phone doesn’t glitch, doesn’t die—just waits, pulsing softly with endless possibilities.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀mirrors that let you become anything ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི

Standing like a gateway to wonder, the mirror isn’t ordinary glass—it’s liquid, shifting, alive. Step before it, and the reflection stirs, waiting for you to decide. Want to see yourself with softer features? A bolder wardrobe? Hair like cascading waves of moonlight or skin adorned with radiant tattoos? It adjusts instantly, letting you try on identities and aesthetics without limit. Spin in gowns made of galaxies, suits cut to perfection, or casual looks that feel so you. Every tweak and change feels satisfying, a playful exploration of who you are and could be. The mirror never judges; it just shows you the endless, beautiful possibilities of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀the atmosphere itself ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Beyond the individual features, the very feeling of this waiting room is enough to make you melt. The air is a perfect temperature—just warm enough to hug your skin, with a breeze carrying the scents you love most. The lighting shifts seamlessly: soft and golden when you need peace, cool and vibrant when you want energy. Windows reveal scenes of beauty that change with your desires—sunlit forests, endless oceans, glittering cityscapes, or galaxies swirling with stars. Time bends and stretches here, never demanding anything from you. Also, the entire waiting room? Edible. Feel free to take a chunk from the floating sofa pod. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

GOD OMG THIS TOOK ME LIKE 3 HOURS. IM SO PROUD :3333

[periofthesea]

Home is Where you are

(This is a short little fic that I had posted on ao3 but I thought I'd share it here as well <3)

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Sunday morning. In the midst of May, the beginning of summer where the days slowly get longer and the sun bores down from a clear blue sky. This particular Sunday, however, was different. Flat gray clouds covered the sky, rain pattered on windows and flooded rain gutters. The howling wind shook the trees and branches beat to an invisible melody against the walls of houses. It was the perfect setting to be inside a warm home, blanketed under layers of warm blankets, and to do nothing but enjoy the sound of the rain.

Inside of a stylish condo in the city, on the tenth floor with a generous view of the city lights at night, Syren lay trapped beneath the warm, solid arm of a lover. Slowly, consciousness returned to her, as she became aware of her surroundings. She was in their shared bedroom, Toaster had hogged most of the fuzzy blankets, leaving Syren with only the main duvet coiled around her legs. Their floor was littered in old clothes they’d discarded from the night before.. And the night before that, not that either were slobs but sometimes after a long day of work the two were too exhausted to care. Normally, on Sunday’s the two decided to work together to clean the entire house. It was a little routine they’d developed together after Syren agreed to move in with them. Blinking away the sleep, Syren scanned the rest of the room. The interior design was a perfect blend of both of their personalities, on the shelf were little 3D printed figurines of Toaster’s characters, as well as a few of her own that he made for her. An assortment of crystals lined the shelf, and on the dresser Syren stored her ever growing candle collection right beside the two stuffed animals that she bought for the two of them, each with their own respective stuffed laptops and headphones. The closet was filled with clothes, mixed and tossed together. It wasn’t so unusual that Syren would pick out one of Toaster’s shirts to wear, and on occasion Syren spotted them sporting one of her long skirts. Of course, everything that fit on Toaster practically drowned Syren and everything that was long for her was considered short - but somehow the two of them made it work. 

The thought brought a smile to Syren’s lips as she twisted in her position to glance at Toaster who was nestled in the left side of her shoulder. Her arm laid beneath their neck, so it wasn’t difficult for her to reach up and thread her fingers through his hair. The practiced motion was almost a natural instinct by now. Whenever the two sat together her hand would find its way to their scalp, and he would practically melt into her arms. She never thought that he’d take such a liking to it, when they first met, she mentioned briefly that she was originally drawn to his hair and wanted to braid it. She also mentioned how she leaned toward physical touch, and despite turning bright red whenever she reached out for him, he also pouted whenever she didn’t. Syren couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest from the image. When they would sit next to each other on the couch, watching a movie or doing something relaxing, he would always do little subtle movements that indicated he wanted her to play with their hair, but he would never ask for it. It wasn’t really subtle at all, but sometimes she pretended not to notice, just so she could see the adorable pout on his face when he realized she was toying with them. She always caved though. They were almost spoiled with it, with how often he wanted her to braid his hair. She loved it though. She would spoil him for the rest of her life, if he wanted.

A soft whine drew her attention back to reality, and through her prereferral vision, Syren saw Toaster crack open his eyes, and lean into her touch. Immediately, there was a giddy smile on her lips at seeing how pretty they looked first thing in the morning. She still couldn’t wrap her head around how lucky she was to be laying beside them, and how they were seeing each other, instead of just through a computer screen.

“Morning,” Syren said quietly, running her nails down the middle part of his scalp.

A soft groan was her response, as Toaster pushed his face deeper into her neck- the ticklish sensation making her giggle.

Suddenly curious, Syren leaned up from where she was laying to scan for her phone. She spotted it amidst the mess of blankets and reached for it. She must have forgotten to plug it in last night. The bright screen lit her face and she physically recoiled from the burn in her eyes. Turning down the brightness, Syren looked at the time. “It’s already noon,” she groaned, tossing the phone aside and laying back down, her hand still tangled in Toaster’s hair.

“Ugh, already?” Toaster asked, and Syren had to keep the flip in her stomach contained at their morning voice.

“Mhm,” She replied, pulling him closer to her chest, and he responded in kind, wrapping both arms around her and intertwining her legs. 

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, “Sorry I got to bed late last night, the raid went on pretty long.”

Syren chuckled, to this day she still hadn’t managed to get too excited about fourteen, it wasn’t her type of game style but for him she would try . Plus, he was adorable whenever he got excited about it. Running her fingers down the backside of his neck she hummed. “It’s okay. I was out like a light so I didn’t even notice.”

A quiet sigh escaped them as she ran her fingers in small circles behind his ear, and it took all of her willpower not to squeal at how adorable he was. So easy to fluster, his blush was the prettiest thing about them… Besides from his voice. 

Looking out the window which was fogged from the rainstorm, she sighed. Syren loved the rain more than anything, and was excited that the sun had finally taken a break and she could enjoy the dark and cold. “Ugh,” she suddenly remembered. “Don’t we have to be somewhere today?”

Toaster groaned and held onto her a little tighter, without realizing she leaned down and kissed the top of his head- relishing the way their breath hitched. “M-My business partner invited us out.” He stammered, and Syren felt a slow grin overtake her face but decided not to tease him any further.

“How much do we like this partner?” She asked lightheartedly, only half joking. Toaster groaned again. “We should go.” “We should.” Syren agreed.

A slight pause. The only sound that could be heard was the patter of the rain against the window, and the muffled sound of cars on the street.

Slowly, Toaster raised their head and Syren looked into their clear blue eyes decorated by long, pretty lashes. They stared at each other, having a conversation only they could understand through their eyes. Syren could read his words loud and clear.

Let’s stay home .

Relief flooded through her entire body, leaning forward she planted a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose, then on his mouth. When she pulled away, his face was bright red, but his eyes were soft and a small, a lovestruck smile grew as he watched her lovingly. Biting her bottom lip, Syren marveled at how well they understood each other, and how deeply she loved them. 

“How does a home cooked brunch sound?” She asked quietly, and he laughed softly, the sound that rivaled the beauty of the sun, the stars, and every astral body combined. “Perfect.” He said, and Syren leaned in to kiss him again. He kissed back, his hands slowly rising to lay on her arms. It was short, and soft, but loving. She could feel the flutter of his lashes against her cheek, it was moments like these that she wanted to engrain in her memory.

“I guess we should get up then,” she said, their faces still close together, lips barely touching and his warm breath on her mouth. She didn’t even care that they had just woken up. “Mhm,” he hummed quietly, leaning in for another kiss. Laughing softly, Syren wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, and kissed back. 

Breakfast could wait just a little longer.

--------------

[liamthemailman]

Rainy Day Blues

AceSoap angst/comfort, mostly comfort if I'm being honest Word count : 1.3k

CW : Slight gore but nothing too graphic, small itty bitty death mention

Image by me

Ace wakes up with a sharp gasp, hand reaching for his neck. He sits up in bed, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, his chest heaving with short, quick breaths. Ace checks his neck, fingers tracing over the scarred tissue that wraps around his neck like a cruel crown of thorns.

Once Ace settles down, he lets his hand drop to his lap before falling back into bed. Ace takes the time to study his surroundings. He wasn’t in his apartment, he’s in Johnny’s apartment.

Johnny’s apartment is clean, each piece of decor his personality. Meticulously put together and warm. A home made with comfort in mind. Ace takes a deep breath. The sheets smelled like Johnny. Another moment passes where he appreciates the luxury of staying in bed longer, in addition to sleeping on a really nice bed.

He shuffles around under his side of the covers before rolling over to the side. The other side, the side usually occupied by Johnny, was empty. 

Ace was alone, again. He curls up in bed, wrapping himself in the thick duvet and listening to the muffled pitter patter of rain against the window. Ace is cold, and alone, yet again. He closes his eyes for a moment, and he’s back.

Back on the ground, neck bleeding a pool of blood on the dirt beneath him, mud and tree bark sticking to his face and clothes. Clutching his hands to his neck in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Storm clouds thundered overhead and Ace is sure there’s yelling nearby. He hopes one of the voices is calling for a medic. He can’t. He’s too weak to even talk. In the distance, from his blurry and fading vision, the figure of what he thought was his closest friend, running off, bloodied rope in hand.

“Ace?”

Ace looks up, blinking at the source of the voice. His eyes were wet with tears. How long had he been crying?

“Johnny..” Ace croaks out, voice scratchy and low.

Ace props himself up with his elbows, wiping his eyes with his sweater sleeve. He sighs softly, looking up just as Johnny sets two steaming mugs on the bedside table. One, a nice mug of coffee that Johnny painstakingly brewed, and the other is Earl Grey tea with one cream and two sugars, just as Ace likes it.

“Sorry I went off.. I made ye yer tea, jus’ the way ye like it.”

The bed dips as Johnny sits on the edge of the bed, bringing himself closer to lay on the older man. Johnny manages to push Ace flat on his back. A giggle is exchanged between the two men as they wrestle.

Ace watches and feels as Johnny pulls them closer together. Johnny snakes his arms around Ace’s middle, burying his face into his chest. He looks up, ocean blue eyes glimmering in the dim light, gazing at Ace adoringly. The expression soon shifts into slight worry as Johnny takes in Ace’s watery eyes.

“..Ace? What’s wrong?”

Oh, man… Johnny’s eyes.

Ace, seeing the light in Johnny’s eyes beaming at him like he hung the stars, moons, and planets. He melts, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips but he can’t deny the sinking feeling in his chest. He runs a hand through Johnny’s mohawk, letting his fingers rake through the fine hairs and his nails scratch the man’s scalp. 

“Forget it..” Ace says with a shrug. He’ll deal with it another time. It wasn’t for Johnny to have to deal with his emotions.

What’s wrong was that Johnny’s so loving and soft to Ace. Ace hasn’t done anything for this treatment. Calling and inviting him over for dinner and insisting Ace should stay the night. Now they’re in bed together under warm blankets and in the safety of each other’s arms. It felt so domestic and Ace wasn’t sure how to react after years of running away from it.

Unfortunately for Ace, Johnny is as stubborn as they come. “None of that.. tell me what’s wrong..” Johnny shifts, squeezing Ace tighter in their hug.

Ace wasn’t a good man and certainly not the nicest. He’s not liked by everyone and he’s quick to make enemies. He’s sure he’s got more enemies than he’s got friends. Ace powered through life without needing much or having much, having to leave behind what he’s known growing up. All he knows is that no one would be nice without a reason.

“Why?” is all Ace could ask. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Ace braces himself to be met with laughter, or ridicule. His question was strange and childish, after all. Full of shaky emotions and doubt built upon a pile of insecurities.

A look of confusion flashes over Johnny’s face. The younger man immediately sits up in bed. Warm hands cup Ace’s face, tilting his head to look up. Ace’s brown eyes shift, looking through wet eyelashes at his love above him.

By god the sight was ethereal. 

Johnny, gazing downward at Ace. His eyes were searching Ace’s face, pupils wide with love matching that of a puppy’s, the corners of Johnny’s eyes crinkled slightly. A soft tuft of Johnny’s mohawked hair fell forward onto Johnny’s forehead between eyebrows that were knitted together. A small smile stretches Johnny’s face, pulling at and distorting the shape of his growing beard.

Ace is sure Johnny’s an angel. The soft halo effect formed from Johnny blocking the ceiling light only proved him right.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you, mo chridhe?” Johnny says in a soft whisper in response to Ace’s question. “I love you.”

A choked sob escapes from Ace’s lips. Ace lets out a shaky sigh as he rolls the words over and over in his head. His forehead creases relax as he melts into Johnny’s hold. He swallows the lump in his throat, feeling hot tears threatening to overflow from his eyes.

“But why? Johnny, I haven’t done-”

“Ace.” Johnny huffs, pressing Ace’s cheeks as if to emphasise his point. He moves his thumps to swipe over Ace’s eyes, drying off his tears and leans down to press his lips to Ace’s forehead. “You don’t need to do anythin’ for it, mhm? I love you.”

“I love you. Truly do, mo stóirín.. just for ye and ye alone. Nothing else. I love you. From the moon an’ back, love. Till the day we keel over an’ die. I love ya, because ah ken you do too, Ace. The way ye hold me at night tells me as much. How you look at me speaks volumes. You love me, and I love you too. Isn’t that reason enough?”

There’s a pause that hangs in the air as Johnny lets Ace digest his words. He lowers himself into bed again to rest against Ace's chest, listening to the consistent drumming of Ace’s heart. The silence was deafening, only to be broken occasionally by Ace’s soft sniffling.

The muffled pitter patter of rain against the window and the shift of the beddings as the two laid in each other’s arms, eyes locked together. How warm it is, as they laid in bed and tuned out the world around them. Ace gazed into the endless ocean of blue that was Johnny’s eyes and Johnny stared back into the familiar comfort of Ace’s dark brown eyes. The mugs have long grown cold but the warmth shared between Ace and Johnny was more than enough to get them through their entire life.

“Mhn.. I reckon that’s reason enough.” Ace mumbled, pulling Johnny close. He lets the other man nuzzle into the crook of his neck, feeling Johnny’s lips kiss a ticklish trail along his scar. Ace shivered and tensed, but ultimately relaxed.

“I love you too, Johnny..”

[splintergirl13]

Reflecting on New Years, this was definitely a hard year for me, if not the hardest. But I had the support of so many people to get me through it. Including you mutuals! So just wanted to say thank you for all your support and love <3

I'm looking forward to 2023 for so many different reasons. I have a feeling it's going to be a good year. And my goal is to continue to work on my positivity both internal and external. (Was beginning to feel a bit like Eeyore this year lmao)

To celebrate the fun to come, under this read more is a sneak peak of the wip for the next chapter of Fluff Pining and Stupidity (Superstitions part 4: Nightmare of a Nightmare)

Happy New Year everyone!

Waking up couldn’t have been more difficult.

Not because he was in pain, or still tired. Quite the opposite, actually.

He was so damn comfortable.

He wanted to freeze this moment in time. The fluffy sheets cocooning him were fabulously warm; a good contrast to the crisp air nipping his nose. The pillow underneath his head and the cushion of the mattress cradled him like a dream. The smell of Herobrine's musky fire filled the space.

It was all too perfect, he never wanted to move again.

The only issue was this growing knot in his stomach. Steve flopped around beneath the mound of feather filled duvets and blankets as his mouth salivated.

The source? A wafting aroma of burnt pork. A scent slowly overpowering the musk of his demon.

Steve let out a small squeak of effort, stretching his sore, satisfied, body. His fluttering eyes were meant with soft sunlight. Highlighting all of those little knick knacks and expertly cut wood that made up the cabin.

His head instinctively shifted to look out the window and check the weather. At home, he would have to get started on the homestead chores. But not now. Not when they were on their little 'vacation' as Alex called it.

The windows had fogged over with a film of frost. Through the blurred glass shone streams of sunlight. It was bright out. A few stray snowflakes fluttered by in the light breeze. But nothing like those clouds had promised last night. He wondered how much it had snowed.

'Groak...'

"Okay, okay." He grumbled at his ravenous stomach. The grumble turned into a grunt and a yawn as he hoisted himself up into a sitting position. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His hand naturally shifted. Searching for the back of the demon. Hoping to rub a small hum of acknowledgement out of him. A cute 'five more minutes'. A shift to hold him down to cuddle longer that even his stomach couldn't resist.

But surprisingly, his eyes opened fully to find the bed empty. His hand just grazed along the warm mattress.

Huh. It wasn't like Herobrine to relinquish himself to the morning so easily. Especially not after a night like last night.

The covers fell off of him and the room brought with it a chill that made him shudder. Quickly, he shifted out of bed. His feet were grateful for the fuzzy rug covering the wooden floor.

There were clothes laid out for him on a small chair in the corner of the room. Perfect for the weather. Some loose sweatpants that would slip underneath his snow pants, a pair of wool socks, and a thick teal turtleneck that clung neatly to his body. Showing off all his curves. It probably would have made him feel self-conscious if Herobrine didn't constantly swoon and babble about how much he loved his rolls and curves.

He ignored the clothes for now in favor of a quick trip to the bathroom. Groggily looking at himself in the mirror. His pajamas just hid the edges of dark bruises. Thankfully, Alex had cared less and less about the marks over the months. It wasn't worth the effort to get the two boys to stop. Herobrine assured her that if he didn't have a healing factor that he'd also be covered in similar marks along his back from where Steve gripped on for dear life. Which, in reality, didn't do much to reassure her.

Once finished with his business and fully dressed, Steve slipped out of their room. As soon as the door opened, a warm gust of air embraced him like a hug; accented by the smell of breakfast cooking.

Herobrine was standing by the stove in the kitchen. The man was dressed wearing his new warm weather long sleeve and sweatpants. As well as a faded pink apron tied terribly behind him. Steve would have scoffed at his continually terrible knot tying skills on display but he was more so confused on what was going on.

"Brine?"

"Ah shit!"

There was a clang as Herobrine dropped the tongs he was using in surprise. Clearly too absorbed in his task to notice Steve's approach.

He looked up from the stove, blowing some hair out of his face and smiling shyly.

"Stevie! Sorry… I thought I might accidentally wake you with the cooking. Probably for the best, I've already burnt a couple of pieces of bacon. Want to take over?"

It was a lot to process. Still waking up, Steve blinked and stuttered. "I-huh?"

Herobrine teleported forward, ending up right in front of him and causing him to jump in surprise.

The demon reached up to place a hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Uh, yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?" Steve half chuckled, grabbing Herobrine’s hand and giving it a nuzzle and a kiss good morning.

Herobrine tilted his head, a thin smile on his lips. "It's almost noon. I thought… maybe…"

"That you'd broken me? Please, Hero. I'm tough." Steve grinned wide.

Herobrine blinked back, tilting his head the other way. Asking for a display.

The miner rolled his eyes before flexing his mining muscles underneath the tight fitting shirt. It hiked up a little on his muffin top. Showing off a hairy happy trail.

Herobrine's bright white eyes ate it all up. Salivating the same way Steve was with the bacon.

"You sure are… gods." He whispered it like a prayer of gratitude. "Guess I won't try and convince you to take a potion then."

"Mhm." Steve agreed. He was feeling better than he had in a while, actually. "I was a little confused on why you weren't there when I woke up. Trying to make me breakfast in bed? Is the great demon of the nether turning that soft?"

"Trust me, I could've laid in bed with you all day." Herobrine's smile fell slightly, ear twitching in annoyance. "Alex woke up and was so hungry I could hear her stomach growling in my dreams. Figured I'd help her out a little bit, since she did us such a big favor last night. I know we have leftover stew, but I also know how you two love your breakfast foods."

Such a nice gesture. Steve loved when they got along. "That's very sweet of you, thank you." He pulled down his shirt back in its place. "Where'd she go?"

"Taking Snowy for a walk."

"Ah." Steve nodded. Twitching his nose as the pan on the stove was now smelling more burnt than pleasant. "Where did the bacon come from?"

"Packed it in my inventory. Alex didn’t seem to mind how, quote, 'gross the concept of inventory meat was' once she smelled it cooking." Herobrine looked away with a cute little smile. "And I know it's your favorite."

Steve couldn’t help but smile back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Heh, and the apron?"

The smile turned into a simply devilish smirk. The demon turned, wiggling his hips and caressing the apron with dragging fingers.

"If we were alone in this cabin I would have just been wearing this apron."

Woof. Steve swallowed. "You trying to tempt me, Brine?"

"Perhaps." Herobrine leaned in to steal a chase kiss to his cheek that made his heart skip a beat.

Then Herobrine began whispering in his ear. Making him shudder from head to toe.

"Or perhaps I'm setting up a mood in hopes Alex will give us some more time tonight when we return… and if not, I'm an expert lock picker. We can have our choice of cabin. I probably can pay for any damages we cause~"

'Groak!'

Apparently Steve's stomach was still more interested than his growing arousal. As it interrupted, saying 'hey, feed me before you get back in each other’s pants!'

Herobrine chuckled at that. Stealing another kiss. "I'm glad my terrible attempt at cooking hasn't ruined your appetite. Do you mind lending me your expertise?"

"Not at all."

Steve slipped past Herobrine, taking off the burnt pan and replacing it with one that was hanging on the back of the stove. Turning down the heat on the stove top and grabbing a few strips of bacon from a cloth bundle. Placing them evenly on the cold cast-iron.

The demon floated around him. Cleaning up his past mistakes. The miner couldn't help but categorize this as growth. The old Herobrine would have argued that he was capable of cooking on his own. But here he was allowing Steve to take the reins.

The miner shook his head. It was only bacon; no need to think too deeply about it.

Instead he whistled a patternless tune. Happiness spilling out of his chest and into song. The bacon crackled and popped beautifully as it browned. It would go nicely with some bread from their rations. Maybe Herobrine also packed some baked beans too for a more complete breakfast palette. Oh, what about eggs? Gods, he was hungry!

"Here." Herobrine stopped Steve from salivating too hard by setting down a steaming mug in front of him. "At least I know how to make this."

The wafting smell of fresh coffee cut through the thick scent coming from the pan.

"Holy shit, I love you so much." Steve exclaimed, immediately abandoning the tongs in the pan to cup the warm coffee mug close to his face. Taking in the delicious burnt smell. He sipped at it while it was still much too hot. He had grown accustomed to all things warm in his mouth, after all.

"Heh. I'm setting the bar much too low then if that's all it takes for you to fall for me." Herobrine smirked. Putting the bread loaf they had packed next to the stove as if he had read Steve's mind.

Perfect timing too, as Steve removed the bacon from the pan. Placing it on a clean towel that had already been left out. And toasted three pieces of bread in some of the grease.

Steve's humming was silenced as Alex jiggled open the door handle and pushed open the thick front door.

Black fur came bolting into the room; bringing with it a waft of cold air.

"Snowy!" Alex half groaned, half chuckled. "Get your soggy ass back here, I need to dry you off!"

The dog had beat her to it, flopping over the carpet and wiggling his furry body across the surface. His paws were stuck out in the air as he groaned and huffed, wetting the carpet with the icy powder that clung to his coat. Snowy paused to stare deep into Steve’s eyes, maw open and tongue flopping out as he panted, before resuming his frantic wiggling and grunting on the carpet.

"Damn zoomies." Alex laughed, closing the door behind her. "Woo! It's cold out there!"

"Indeed." Herobrine growled, stepping closer to Steve and the stove to steal their heat.

But Steve turned off the stove and got out some plates. Forcing the demon to go teleport in front of the furnace instead.

"You're just in time." The miner smiled at her and set down the plates on the table. Herobrine had left a cup of coffee out for her as well.

"Smells great!" Alex beamed. Practically ripping off her gear so she could sit down and dig in. "And… burnt!"

"Yeah, don't know why you trusted him with the cooking." Steve teased the demon, who sneered at him from across the room.

"Hey, he's gotta learn how to do it eventually. No one can stay that bad forever, right!?" Alex joked, and then shoved a whole piece of bacon in her mouth. Humming happily at the taste. She slunk into a chair as Steve threw her a napkin.

"Sure. Bring in the cold AND the insults." Herobrine scoffed, teleporting over to join them. Choosing the seat beside Steve. "I knew I should have locked you out when you left."

"As if I can't pick a lock." She scoffed, sipping at the coffee and wincing at its bite.

"Was there a lot of snow out there?" Steve asked as Snowy zoomed on by him. Going to plop his wet nose in Alex's lap in hope of a bacon snack.

"A LOT!" Alex exclaimed and threw a piece across the room for the pup to chase. Which he did, slipping across the wooden floor and flinging snow everywhere.

"Though the sky is clear and there's no wind. So it might turn out to be a nice day to explore as long as we all wear our snowshoes."

"I do hope you're not suggesting we wander aimlessly all day in that mess like we did yesterday." Herobrine growled low, which caused Snowy to bark, thinking another dog was nearby. Alex threw him a small piece of bread to redirect his energy.

"It wasn't aimless." Alex protested with a wiggle of her shoulder. "But no, we won't be walking around in the snow for long."

"We won't?" Steve asked, curious at her hint of some sort of plan.

Alex shoved a whole piece of bacon in her mouth and held up her finger for 'one second'. She wiped her hand on her shirt and moved to dig around in her day pack, which she had dropped next to the table.

It didn't take long for her to grab a large piece of paper and shove it onto the table. Clearly it was a thin map. She began to unfurl it, showing off several markings

"Found a cave system. One that seems to sync up with the bartender's story last night."

"Where'd ya get the map?" Steve questioned, biting into his own piece of bacon. He swallowed and reached forward to thumb at the paper. "Why didn't you pull that out yesterday when we were lost?"

"First off." Alex smacked his greasy fingers away. "We weren't lost. And secondly. I, uh, didn't have it yesterday."

Steve's head perked up at that. He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "Well, where did you get it?"

Alex bit at her lip, a small blush on her face.

"I, uh, got it from Flora. Last night."

"I don't remember her giving you a map." Steve pried further, sensing something to be up.

Turns out his suspicions were correct. As the blush only grew and the adventurer curled back in her chair, green eyes looking away.

"I may have gone back to ask her about it."

"What?" Steve couldn't help but gawk in honest surprise. "When!?"

"I, uh… was gone for a little more than an hour last night… I knew you guys wouldn't notice or mind. And the storm clouds held off on me."

"Oh my gods, no way!" Steve giggled in glee.

Alex rolled her eyes and scrunched up her freckled nose in feigned annoyance.

Herobrine looked to Steve for clarification on if this information was embarrassing or not. And determined that, yes, it was, so he grinned and leaned in closer.

"So bold Alex. Showing up to a stranger's house to court them. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Pah, please. I'm waaaay more bold than you know. Mr. 'I pined for my roommate for years'. Besides, there wasn't enough time for much to happen."

"Oh come on, now you gotta tell us!" Steve giggled.

The siblings shared a look. Alex's nose scrunched further. Steve's smile got wider.

Eventually she caved. Folding her hands over her chest. "I kissed her hand goodnight."

"Such a knight." Steve quipped immediately with a small laugh as she chucked a piece of bread at his head. Snowy was quick to gobble it up as soon as it hit the floor.

"You're so annoying." She rolled her eyes. "Can't a girl flirt every now and then without a peanut gallery?"

"Oh come on, Alex." Herobrine scoffed while Steve observed the map further, now with clean fingers. "Like you don't take every opportunity you can to tease us."

Something tickled the unease in Steve’s stomach. The map was worn and laid out in a strange format. Clearly yellowed and weathered, wrinkled here and there with coffee stains and open holes from pins.

The cave map had large sections with tunnels turning at ninety degrees in grids. Small scribbled writing named areas. Symbols he’s memorized for years dotted across the map. And... a little symbol, carved into his memory, sent a horrid shiver down his spine as it sat clear in its little spot. Some markings appeared fresh and unsmudged like others.

"Yeah well you two-"

"Wait."

Steve interrupted, dropping his fork. Stomach turning sour. He gripped the corner of the map hard, glaring up at Alex.

"This is a mining map."

"Yeah?"

"Flora just had this lying around?"

The mood of the trio shifted with Steve’s tone. His voice had dropped an octave from their banter. Snowy perked up at the sudden change. The demon next to him straightened his back while Alex's face hardened.

The adventurer shrugged too nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned that this used to be a mining town. Emphasis on used to be, Steven. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" He spat back. "Like you're a crazy person?"

It was as if Steve had metaphorically slapped her with a white glove. Her green eyes blazed to life and her mouth opened like a dragon about to spew fire.

He snapped before she could start her usual bullshit argument.

"We're not exploring an old mining shaft."

"Do you even hear yourself!? Why in all the realms would we-"

"You nearly got yourself killed in one, Alexandra!"

He slammed the table so hard with his fist he feared he might have damaged it. The plates all rattled. Snowy lowered his head with a whimper.

"You know that's different!" She hissed, standing up and leaning against the table to tower above him. Steve started to get up too but a hot hand was placed on his thigh.

"Guys…" Herobrine whispered despite himself. He looked at the two with fear.

Steve's gaze instantly fell from his sister. Body shaking. Head pounding. He didn't want to have this fight. Not here. Not in front of Herobrine.

So Alex took the opportunity to continue. Green gaze piercing his very soul.

"It's old, Ste-ven! Abandoned! Our favorite kinds of places to explore! Fuck, you even built your first couple of houses in the entrances of abandoned mineshafts! It's got a creepy story which you love to learn about. So what's the issue?"

She sighed with her whole body. Short hair fell into her eyes.

"… Do we need to talk?"

Steve's throat shut. He furrowed his brow, curled his lip, and shook his head no.

"I think we do." Alex bit out. "But I don't think you will, am I correct?"

He shrugged. Purposely not meeting Herobrine’s questioning gaze.

"Then why don't we skip all this bullshit and just go explore some damn caves?" Alex huffed away. Heading straight for her bedroom. "I'll be ready in ten. I'm leaving with or without you both. And then we can unwind and pretend this never happened."

Steve didn't think he was supposed to hear her grumble underneath her breath.

'Like we always seem to do…'

She slammed the door harder than Steve had hit the table. The whole house sounded deathly silent after.

[sunflowersoonyoung]

home | woozi

w.c ↠ 1.7k

pairing ↠ woozi x fem!reader

genre/s ↠ fluff, established relationship au!, smut, switch!woozi, overstimulation, riding, creampie

description ↠ as the person whom jihoon comes home to, you take your job of relieving his stress quite seriously.

warning/s ↠ some cursing, suggestive themes, unprotected sex

a/n ↠ this idea came to me a long time ago as I was experimenting with the idea of domming svt, and I thought it was incredibly hot. jesus uhhh I'm sorry if you’re woozi biased 🥴 but also enjoy. whiny jihoon is hot af. the fluffy sections are kind of obviously inspired by their title track home.

friendly reminder that my requests are open!

-

Even from the living room, you could hear the front door creaking open, gently clicking shut moments later.

Five days earlier, Jihoon had pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead whilst you stirred in bed, bid you goodbye and left for his studio. After that, you would see him occasionally, delivering essentials directly to him and only lingering for a moment to avoid distracting him; only able to watch as his fatigue grew with each night that passed.

Finally, he had come home. The moment you heard the door, you were on your feet and running down the corridor, catching sight of his worn figure stepping out of his shoes. The apparent exhaustion on his face melted away the moment he saw you.

An overwhelming rush of endorphins swirled your blood as you embraced him, and he reciprocated, fluttery from head to toe when he buried his face in your shirt. You inhaled, finally able to drown yourself in his familiar scent after what had felt like so long.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you murmured. Jihoon breathed a long, relaxed sigh in response. Something about coming home to you made him feel immense relief.

He withdrew from you but remained close, allowing himself to bask beneath your familiar features. A smile cracked his tired expression, and he smoothed his palm over your cheek. His eyes glossed over with adoration and love.

Jihoon leaned in, tilting his head and kissing you. The kiss was gentle, passionate; he had missed you sorely.

When he finally pulled away, he looked invigorated.

“I’m going to have a shower. Wait for me?”

You managed a dazed smile, your cheeks hot, “of course.”

While Jihoon disappeared into the bathroom, you settled into bed, pulling the duvet back in preparation for him to join you. You kept your ear trained on the sound of the shower running, waiting for the moment you would hear the water shut off.

Nights like this were the foundation of your relationship. Jihoon was always returning from busy weeks overfilled with work and work-related events, and you were always there to greet him. You would spend hours in his embrace, finally able to share a bed with him.

Even if he was absent for weeks, you could make do with the memories you shared when he was present. Of course, you ached for him, but the moment you caught a glimpse of his smile upon seeing you, everything was worth it.

Jihoon emerged from the bathroom shortly, dressed in only sweatpants. His skin was silky and fresh, and his hair was bouncy and soft. He slid beneath the duvet, stretching an arm across the pillows for you to rest your head on. He was a treat to embrace, the air around him clouded by the sweet scent of his body wash.

Silence washed over the pair of you. It was a comfortable silence, and you spent it admiring each other, drinking in each other in peace and enjoying the way the dim lighting framed each other’s features.

Without realising it, you had drifted off and settled into his embrace. You felt so warm and happy, sleeping easily for the first time since he had left.

You were not sure how late it was when you were stirred by Jihoon’s voice - a hushed groan. The room was dark, and your legs had tangled with your partner’s whilst you had been dozing. You blinked up at Jihoon, searching for his face in the darkness. He was squinting away sleep.

Jihoon remained still for a moment, a slight grin passing over his lips as you held eye contact.

His hand shifted beneath the covers, smoothing over your thigh. Sexual intention was emanating from his fingertips, which dissipated when he paused to toy with the hem of your shorts.

Apparently, you had been subconsciously pouting, because his smile widened, “what is it?”

Your head was fuzzy with desire as you answered, “please keep touching me. It feels really good.”

Jihoon hummed. He gradually passed his palm over your thigh, drawing wide circles over your leg. The skin to skin contact was incredible, and certainly worth the wait. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could now focus solely upon his touch.

“I think there’s something you need me to do for you, isn’t there, sweet?” He asked soothingly, his forehead meeting yours. His breathing began to hasten in excitement as his fingers encroached upon the insides of your thighs, running up your leg, your belly, dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

You inhaled sharply when his fingers met with your hot privates. You knew you were already wet; you had been starving for sexual attention for days. Jihoon’s response only served to arouse you even further - groaning lowly at your slickness.

He masturbated you slowly, gradually increasing the pace. As he observed your reactions, you could only interpret his expression to be of pure awe. Jihoon loved you, loved the faces you made as he touched you.

You mewled for him, and he chuckled softly, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it, baby?”

“It has,” you complained.

Because even though it had only been a week since you had last seen him, it had been longer since you had been intimate in this manner. He was always too tired or too sore, and you respected that.

An idea crossed your mind, and you wrapped your fingers around Jihoon’s firm wrist to halt him. He met your gaze curiously.

“I have a request,” you began unsteadily.

Jihoon tried his best to urge you forward, “what is it?”

“I’d like to be the one in control for once. Can I do that?”

Your boyfriend’s warm expression swiftly transformed into embarrassment as he processed your question. It was rare that you were able to witness his ears turning such a deep shade of crimson.

Jihoon was the dominant in your relationship. Being beneath your thumb was something that made him feel strange and flustered, and he did not like losing his cool. You had tried before, but he had effortlessly thrown it back in your face, and you had been hesitant to try again.

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?” He finally asked after pondering your words for a moment.

“I want you to conserve your energy,” you whispered against his lips, a sultry tone that caused Jihoon to grip the flesh of your thigh, “you’ve been working nonstop.”

You ran a line down his neck made of feathery kisses, and he grunted, burying his nails in your skin.

An opening revealed itself to you and you and took it, shifting so that you were sitting atop of his hips. Jihoon exuded vulnerability as you stared down at him, a surprised and dizzied grin painting his face. You could hardly believe he was giving in to you.

“I’m only letting you do this-,” Jihoon cut himself off with a growl as you rocked your hips against his hard cock through his sweats, ��because I’m stressed. So don’t waste your time teasing me.”

You pouted, fully aware that the secret message in that statement was a warning: playing with him would not end well for you and would bring an end to your already too brief run as the top, which was a shame because you really wanted to make him squirm.

You sat back on your heels and palmed Jihoon through his pants, caught off guard when he whimpered in response. His head was weighing heavily against the pillows, pleasure creasing his eyebrows.

“Why does that feel so good?” He groaned.

“I’m barely doing anything, Jihoon-ah,” you teased, stifling a laugh.

He was obviously unused to being teased; his face burned a vivid red, and he pouted, turning his cheek. You had to swallow a squeal, knowing that would only make him worse, but he was just so adorable.

Your giddiness over him was punished when he bit your skin with his blunt nails, dragging a yelp out of your throat, “I said not to tease,” he scolded, “just sit on me already.”

Although you were in control, you obediently pulled back his sweatpants and his boxers, your mouth doused with drool as you wrapped your fist around his girthy cock. He looked swollen with cum, and you were tingling with arousal to relieve him.

You discarded your shorts and underpants, positioning yourself over him and running the head of his cock up and down your pussy. He felt like velvet, such an incredible sensation that your patience ran out all at once and you pushed him inside of you.

Jihoon groaned loudly. It surprised you, as usually he kept his volume muted. As you began working your hips, he was unbridled, his voice increasing in pitch the harder you fucked him.

He raised his back from the bed, holding the sheets to brace himself. Sweat was gathering on his forehead, beading on his chest.

You were beginning to lose yourself in a haze of arousal, no longer able to hear his whining over the condensed desire that was currently overwhelming your senses. You were almost rabid in the way you rode him, and through your foggy vision, you saw how it made Jihoon writhe.

“F-Fuck!” One final curse left his lips and he came inside you. You continued even when his orgasm concluded, right up until his legs were quivering uncontrollably.

“Oh, my God,” Jihoon was a soulless husk when you finally relented, your limbs burning with exertion. He looked as if he had been struck by something, his eyes scanning the ceiling dazedly.

“Pretty,” you hummed, using the back of your hand to wipe away his sweat. His hair was stuck together, you pushed that out of his face as well. He finally managed to collect himself, staring at you as if you had transformed into another person, someone he was not fond of.

“I’m never letting you do that again,” he complained, “I thought I was going to pass out.”

You grinned proudly. Although that was his final verdict, you were certain you would find another moment to mold him into your hands like you had tonight.

After all, he would always have you to come home to.

[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[daily-dose-of-writing]

Another prompt ask for you anniversary! :D

“So, do you come here often?” “This is my house. My actual house. I live here.”

Linkity link

No pressure ofc! Please and thank you 💖💖💖

tw: alcohol consumption, there’s a battle mentioned briefly for a bit of context, so I suppose violence

———

That evening’s sky was a soft charcoal, marred by streaks of burnished orange that were remnants of the buried sun. A rich and vibrant pink was spilled across the horizon as though an ink pot had been knocked down and it’s tepid light brushed the very tips of the rooftops. A storm was brewing in the thick, sagging clouds and rain was already beginning to patter against the window panes like gentle bullets.

She felt the first few cool drops on her cheeks and hurried her pace. She hoped to get home before the rain really began to pour.

With the increased speed, the stitches in her side began to pull taught. Her feet slowed to a halt. Breath escaped her lips in thin, laboured exhales and her sharp features were constricted as though someone had put a rather underripe gooseberry in her mouth. Delicate fingers ghosted over the injury through her shirt, her breath catching each time too much pressure was applied.

As though her body was afflicted by a bought of sympathetic nostalgia, she older traumas aching in constant with the new one. The skin may have healed — albeit with some fair discolouration or puckering — but the memory of each slice and carve and shot was categorised and stained across her bones like blood on a ledger.

The rain grew more confident with each passing moment; spewing great swathes of water onto the blackening tarmac. The rain would surely soak her anyway; so she saw no point in hurrying any longer.

She hoped desperately that her roommate wouldn’t be too irritated at her late arrival home; for it was well into the wee hours of the morning. It was those evenings when she got home later than was, perhaps, necessary that she would wake up the following morning with the usually-half-full coffee pot empty and her favourite coat conveniently ‘borrowed’.

She sighed. It had been a long day and a longer week. She ran her shaking fingers through her hair absentmindedly, worrying at the flyaway strands. Her fingers caught in a knot and she pulled it in front of her face to untangle it. The strands were clumped together and stuck fast as though someone had taken a glue stick to the back of her head. As she passed beneath the mellow glow of the street lamps, she noticed the dampened red glimmer to the clump and realised it was her own blood, missed and overlooked when she had scrubbed most of it from her hair.

The battle had been won. That was all that mattered, they said. When she had stood amongst the wreckage of the building, children weeping and people painted in a thick coat of grey dust that clung to them like a second skin, an old woman lying eerily still, her eyes still wide and mouth agape yet taking no breath, it had not felt like winning. But their ‘villains’, as it were, were a cancer than had to be eradicated before the city could begin to heal; before people could begin picking up the shattered pieces of their lives. She swallowed around a terrible knot in her throat. At the end of the day, was it the villains that had ruined their lives, or them?

She sighed and brushed water from her eyelashes. She needed a bath and some brandy and to sleep a full night. The thought of it; of warm water cradling her aching bones and then collapsing into the soft embrace of her duvet; kept her moving forward despite the still noticeable twang in her side.

A delicate smile was spread across her face and a silent debate of whether to order in some food or just go straight to bed was raging within her when she finally reached her door. For a moment, she fumbled within her pockets for her keys, but then, even in the gloom, she realised the door was ajar.

Within the blink of an eye, she had slipped silently inside. A blade was clutched between her fingers and pressed flush against her thigh as she turned the corner, but only the answering gloom was there to greet her. She traipsed slowly through each room until only the living room remained. Her shoulders felt stiff as though they were set in stone — she knew she needed to relax but it was her home.

“Good morning!” The ancient lamp flickered on weakly. “So, do you come here often?”

It took her eyes a mere moment to adjust to the influx of light and she recognised the figure in her favourite armchair immediately. “This is my house,” she growled, “My actual goddamn house. I live here.” Their long legs dangled lamely in front of them, the tight suit pristine except for the occasional patch of visible thread and puckered spines that marred it from prior damage; they weren’t at the fight, she thought. Despite that, their arms — balanced neatly on the arms of the chair — were taut and their knuckles whitened by force. There was a gritty, forceful aspect to their signature smile.

Not bothering to waste time, she lurched forward, the blade between her fingers an extension of herself as it halted, unwavering an inch from their throat. “What have you done to Sarah?”

“S— your roommate? Nothing, nothing.” They proclaimed. Her blade did not waver and not an ounce of relief washed over her features. “I’m not playing with you — can’t you read? Note on the corridor mirror says she went out drinking with her friends and they’re staying over at some ‘Vicky’’s house.”

She leant backwards a fraction; just enough to see the pink post-it note stuck wonkily to the mirror.

Looking back to the seething body beneath her blade, she realised that their suit was not as pristine as earlier believed. “If you get blood,” she began, “on my favourite chair, I will skin you and hang you up in the basement.”

They made a shrugging motion that looked as though they had moved to raise their arms in surrender but decided against it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Her eyebrows arched slowly until they almost touched her hairline. “Look, I don’t mean to be an inconvenience—” She scoffed. “I just need your help.”

She threw back her head to expose the soft skin of her neck and they watched it bob up and down as an enormous belly laugh belted from her throat. She doubled over and clutched so desperately at her abdomen that she let the blade drop. “Why?” She breathed it between half-choked sobs, “Would i ever help you?”

They sputtered indignantly, “I don’t know, you’re a hero! You— you’re supposed to be good! Do good things.”

“Good?” She laughed, eyes as wide as saucers and as wild as those of a street cat, “Don’t you dare talk to me about good.” She shook her head and the unsure tears fell; wiping clear streaks through the grime coated on her cheeks. Suddenly they seemed less like tears of laughter.

“Do you know what else,” she began, “heroes are supposed to do?” They shook their head so minutely that she almost missed it. “Defeat the villain. And by god, I’ve already done that once today, you think I won’t do it again?”

Their glassy, half-lidded eyes snapped open and they began twisting uneasily, “Look, I don’t want any trouble, just let me leave and I won’t do anything more!”

“Don’t want trouble?” Her voice was high, growing higher by the sentence. “You came here, you broke into my home, and you can’t possibly have known that Sarah would be out, so with the intention of hurting my best friend. You also now know where I live, may I remind you, how do I don’t know you won’t just run to all your little friends and tell them aaaall about it?”

“I— I— please.”

“Go back and beg at the freshly dug grave of that horrible man who’s allegiance you clutched so dearly.” She spat and the blade edged a little closer.

“I wouldn’t even if I wanted to,” they replied lamely, glancing at the crusted ooze of red that stained their abdomen.

“It was him? That did that?” She asked incredulously. A deep blush spread like wildfire across their cheeks and their mouth bobbed open and closed like a goldfish. She threw back her body again, though without quite as much vigour, and howled with a humourless laugh.

“It was— it was—” They growled frustratedly. “He told me his plan, ok? His plan for the apartment building. Wilful destruction and— and murder, just to spite a bunch of people he didn’t really like. I told him it was heinous even for him and it didn’t exactly go well.”

She gawked at them, “And the logical next step was to break into the house of someone who’s team has been actively trying to kill or disarm you for the past year and a half?”

“You were the only one I thought might help!” They cried, “You were the only one I thought might not fucking kill me on sight!” She moved to cut in but they continued on, “I know I did it wrong, ok? Does that satisfy you? But I never intended to become a villain, i never intended to get this deep but bad situations breed bad situations. So, if I was wrong and you’re going to just butcher me in your chair, fucking fine. I’m going to be dead in an hour or two anyway; so have at it.”

She snarled like a rabid dog and launched the knife across the room, lodging it in the doorframe. “Do they think you’re dead?”

“Wha—”

“Do they — the villain community or whatever the hell you lot have going on — think you’re dead?”

“Probably,” they replied tiredly, “yes, yes they must do by now.”

“Ok,” she spat sarcastically, her body bending a little in a mock bow of gratitude, “then I will give you a single chance. If I fix you up, best I can, wrap you up in a little bow, then send you off with a new name and a very, very, rushed passport, will you stay out of trouble? If you do; if you keep your nose clean, then I will leave you alone and tell the others that you’re dead. If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself.”

They settled back into the chair with a wretched grin plastered across their familiarly smug face. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”

She stared at them blankly. “I’m being generous. Would you like to die instead?”

“No! No!” They stammered, loose limbs jumping to attention again, “No! I— Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

She growled and moved into the kitchen to retrieve the emergency first aid kit.

The wound was not nearly as bad as they had seemingly assumed it to be: the stab wound, as it was, had missed all of their vital organs and had generally only bled enough to make them feel a little queasy. Despite the fact, it took her well over an hour to get them cleaned and stitched up. She slapped a dressing over her worryingly well practiced work with all the grace of a goat on cocaine and a little more force than necessary.

She had provided a bottle of cheap vodka for her villainous counterpart to dull the pain with and they had taken that as a challenge. The bottle lay empty about four feet from their limp, outstretched arm where it had rolled to and they had been watching it glumly ever since they had dropped it.

“I’m finished,” she announced and stood up slowly, her knees crackling like burning firewood.

They wriggled and writhed where they were slouched against the front of her sofa like a gleeful slug. With a light burp they gurgled a soft, “Yay.”

They soon fell into a blissful and sound sleep. Their lithe form fell limp as though they were but a doll who’s strings had been dropped and they lay so eerily still that if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of their chest, they could have easily been mistaken for dead. They’re not quite so terrible when they’re sleeping, she thought. But then again, most people aren’t.

She worked as they slept, pulling up paperwork and calling in old favours that she had cached away for a rainy day, until at last they were someone completely new. They died on that floor, as they slept. Their chest fell still and their brain fizzled out like the last trickles of electricity through a broken bulb. She wondered what they were dreaming of. In their place, a different person would awaken; not entirely different but not entirely the same, either. She hoped.

They awoke with gentle light breaking through the cracks between the curtains and caressing their sallow cheeks. The sunlight hung like raindrops on their eyelashes and they blinked it away as their sight came into focus. Cool floorboards cradled their aching body as did a soft pillow beneath their head — the textured material rubbed delicately against the backs of their ears.

Beside them, upon the sofa, she sat. Her legs were splayed a shoulder’s width apart and her hands dangled, folded, between them. Her back was hunched just enough to push her face into the light — it caught and sharpened the contours of her features so that they resembled something fierce; like jagged rocks slicing through the shimmering morning sea. The tendrils of light coiled themselves amongst her dark curls of hair like rope slung loosely across a deck. It softened the rippling waves almost reverently; casting her as something almost holy.

“Good, you’re awake.”

They blinked blearily at her. There was a searing pound within their skull echoed by the vague memory of a lot of vodka and they couldn’t quite focus. “Yes,” they murmured, “I am.”

“Don’t move too much,” she commanded as they began to shift and stir, “I’m not restitching that wound.”

In a long, languid movement, they brought themself up so that their back was pressed firmly against the soft furnishings of her settee. A glass of water appeared in front of their nose and they took it gleefully, taking enormous, selfish gulps that thundered down their throat. The coolness was rousing. After a short while of silence, the searing throb had become little more than a dull ache and it was then that she chose to speak once more.

“I have all of your files here,” she began, “new name, new birthday, new life.”

They offered a sky smirk, “Have i got a cool name? Like— like— like Dick Tate, or Don Keigh?”

She raised her eyebrows incredulously, “That’s your idea of a cool name?” They merely shrugged. “And no; your new name is Danny Burdock.”

“Not bad, not bad.” They feigned indifference, though something was bubbling eagerly in the hollows of their ribs.

“Yeah well,” she trailed off for a moment, eyes transfixed on something that wasn’t their as the sunshine caught and illuminated the heavy, dark bags that dragged at their eyes. “Get cleaned up and sorted, I’ve got out some old clothes that neither me nor Sarah want — I think they belonged to one of her ex’s but honestly I can’t remember. But they’re clean and civilian, so you don’t have to go traipsing around in that ruined suit of yours, drawing attention to yourself.” She paused, “Which I’ve washed, by the way. You owe me.”

As she got up and left, they watched her with a manner of dumbstruck awe; their lips parted slightly in a silent question never asked.

They found the clothes quickly; folded and placed on the coffee table beside the sofa. They fitted alright, although the jeans were a little long, so they cuffed them a little at the bottom so that they were a more appropriate length. The tee shirt was nothing special; plain and black with a tiny little penguin over the top breast — but they knew they shouldn’t argue; it was generous of her to give them even that.

Swiftly, they crept into the kitchen where they knew she would be, to accept their documents and their cleaned suit.

“Here,” she said, “this is all your main information; name, date of birth, social security number — you get the gist — then all of this is education; I figured I’d give you some decent qualifications to get you started, then this is just other bits and bobs, y’know.” She waved her hands around lackadaisically. “I’m sure you can see yourself out, after all you certainly know where the door is.”

In a flash, they bent down and wrapped her in an awkwardly one sided hug. The impact forced the air in her lungs to rush from her lips and it took her a moment to realise what was happening — at which point she was no less confused. In a rather awkward manner, she let her hands drop onto their back gently and began tracing delicate circles in the soft fabric.

“Thank you,” they whispered.

“I— you’re welcome.”

With a sharp intake of breath, they pulled back and smiled genuinely. “Cheerio.” And they turned away.

“Yes, g-good bye,” she mumbled as the door clicked shut behind them. “Good luck.”

A little while passed before she was able to shake herself from her stupor. She eyed the still-open first aid kit and sighed. Time for that bath.

———

Hey! Hope you enjoyed, I know that you like hero x villain content so I based the story around that :))) Also I’m so sorry it got a bit more angsty than I meant to lmao

[thegloweringcastle]

The Rain could be Dancing

Rain hammers at the window. Like a shower of pebbles, it rattles its panes. It wakes them up, pulling them from their dreams and spitting them out into the grey morning. One look outside and she huffs and rolls over. Rhys wraps his arm over her, pulls her back to his chest.

“What’s wrong, darling?” His voice is barely above a whisper, still raspy from sleep.

“Rainy days are so depressing. You can’t go outside; you have to stay indoors where it’s stuffy and cramped. Everything feels so dark and dreary.” Her voice is defeated.

“Hmm.” He closes his eyes but continues to rub her arm. “I don’t know about that.”

Feyre turns her head, and he cracks one eye open in time to see the funny look she gives. He provides no explanation, just sits up and motions for her to follow him from bed. He pulls on a sweater over his t-shirt and untucks the duvet from beneath their mattress. Grabbing her hand, he leads her to the small balcony.

Together they sit, bundled in blankets and looking out at the city. They watch flowers in a hanging planter gather water, notice how the rain dances off of ledges, see people on the streets rush from cover to cover, eager to escape the weather. Grass becomes greener, puddles grow deeper, and the rain falls harder.

They spend hours watching the world unfold beneath the showers - there is no need to move when they are kept so warm by each other’s company.

He learns that the best way to stay warm is to hold her close.

She learns that rainy days don’t have to be sad.

***

In the night there is a snowy moon glowing behind the clouds. It is cool and wet, the world beneath dripping in liquid silver.

In the morning there is a golden sun electrifying the clouds. It gives them a silver lining - makes them softer, though everything below is gray and damp.

The rain runs through gutters, drips from awnings, gathers on leaves and soaks the ground around flowers. People stay indoors and simply observe the world outside.

They embrace it - the rhythm of the calm showers, the music of the running water. They let the sound lull them into a sense of security, dry and warm in their beds and without a worry in the world.

Two people in particular appreciate the gift of the rain; the peace provided by the light drizzle, an excuse to stay together all day. In their sleep he holds her tight, she wriggles closer until their hearts beat against each other and their breaths mingle.

She wakes early in the morning, eyes opening to be met with violet eyes and a sleepy smile.

He watches her settle. Sees her pull away from sleep and adjust to the world around her. He traces her features with feather touches, burning the image into his mind.

Honey brown hair lit up in the pale, gray glow.

Dark eyelashes brushing against rosy cheeks.

Delicate ears curving against wisps of silky hair.

They lay together for what feels like hours, stuck between the vast plains of rest - not quite awake and not quite asleep. She puts her cold feet against his warm ones, and he slides his hands underneath her shirt, coming to rest at the small of her back. Not to tease. Not to instigate. Simply to be.

The rain outside hums its approval.

And then, small hands and long, dark hair. A third body, this one smaller, clambers up to squeeze between them. Nestling between the safety of her parents. It is silent for a moment - both of them subconsciously settling around her, pulling her closer into their small world tucked between the sheets. It was natural. They fit together perfectly; made for each other.

But they hear a sniffle, and she shifts closer, burrowing deeper into the safe haven they offer between their arms.

“Is something wrong, baby?” Feyre whispers into the dimness, stroking her daughter’s hair and brushing her cheek.

“The rain feels sad. It’s like the world is crying.” Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, stare up from beneath the blanket, and even in the dark her parents can see the concern in them.

“I don’t think it’s sad, sweetheart.” Rhys pulls closer, banding his arms around both of his girls.

“Why not?” Her voice is still quiet and slurred from just waking.

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I think, for today, the rain is at peace. Hear how gentle it is? How soft? It sounds more like it’s singing, like it’s dancing ‘cause it’s happy.” When he looks at her, she pauses, then nods her head and nuzzles into her mother’s shoulder. He kisses the back of her head and Feyre’s cheek before trying to settle back into their nest of blankets.

“But it sounds so cold, like the clouds miss the sun.” She sits up all the way this time, duvet tumbling off her shoulders and pooling around her back as she looks at her father. With her eyebrows drawn and a frown on her face, she looks exactly like her mother.

Rhys looks at the two of them, sees Feyre holding their daughter, sees the similarities shared between the two people he loves most. It makes his heart ache with joy, with pure, undiluted contentment.

“Come with me, little one.” His voice is low. Not a whisper - just quiet. Wanting to nurture the stillness of the morning.

He scoops her up carefully. Her arms - still chubby with baby fat - wrap around his neck and he tucks a quilt around her. Feyre smiles knowingly and bundles herself in his sweater and a robe.

Downstairs now, Rhys steps onto their back porch, the one he and Feyre had painstakingly built together. They had spent days measuring and cutting and nailing and sanding, wanting to get it to perfection. He hadn’t understood why it was so important that they got it just right.

Now he knows.

The air is damp and cool, but not uncomfortable. Not muggy and not cold.

He tucks her closer, rubs her back as they sit on the bench.

She is safe in her dad’s arms, peering out from the blanket to observe her surroundings. Through the open windows, she can hear the kettle whistling, can feel the slight stubble on her father’s jaw when he presses kisses to her forehead, can see a mist rising above the ground where the rain hits.

They hear the drops landing on the grass, the creek further back on their property full and rushing. Wildlife is quiet now, but for a few birds chirping and an entire chorus of frogs, adding a melody to the rain’s steady beat.

“Listen, honey.” His voice is hushed. “Do you hear the frogs?”

Paying closer attention, leaning forward in her dad’s lap, and looking again towards the field, she listens to the croaks filling the air and echoing off the trees.

When her mother joins them - a steaming mug in each hand, the bitter scent of Rhys’s coffee and spicy tang of Feyre’s tea mixing - she crawls over. Half in her dad’s lap, half in her mom’s.

“Momma, listen to the frogs!”

“I know, sweetie. Do you know what they’re saying to you?” Feyre’s eyes, bright and twinkling, glide from her husband to their daughter.

“Frogs go ribbit, momma. Everyone knows.” She looks to her dad, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

Yes. She was all Feyre.

“They’re warning you of the creek - saying it’s knee-deep, knee-deep.” Feyre drops her voice, mimicking the frogs. She beams when her daughter giggles.

They settle on the bench, leaning in towards each other, sharing heat in the soft chill of the morning.

Tea and coffee is refilled, another blanket is brought out. But still they sit quietly, untouched, and safe beneath the porch covering. Time slips away while they watch water dance off stones and pool on leaves. Beads gather in the center of flowers and the edges of petals - creating kaleidoscopes of light and color. Puddles gather in the small divots and valleys where the earth has been worn down.

Their voices are hushed when they speak, just a murmur beneath the rain. Her ear to his chest, she can feel the rumble as she speaks; her dad’s voice is a comfort. Her mother’s skin warm against her own, her paint-stained hands gentle as she absentmindedly rubs her small feet. She snuggles further into the blankets, chilled in the early morning but warmed by her parents embrace. She yawns, a quiet sound muffled by quilts.

She speaks up. “I think you’re right daddy. The rain is happy.”

Thin, downy lashes flutter shut, the muscles in her face relax. Her head turns in, chin tucking under and body curling up. Her breathing evens out and her parents watch her, watch the rain, watch each other.

Together they are whole. They listen to the showers pick up strength - a great crescendo in nature’s orchestra - and the quiet breathing of their daughter. Moments upon moments of rest, heads leaning together, and arms wrapped in a safe embrace.

They are as calm as the rain that dances around them.

[headaching]

why the hell was your bedding $300 /lh

hi tiana im sure you didn’t want an actual explanation but. i already typed all this out lmao so uhh thanks for letting me use this as an excuse to infodump about my sheets 🫂 (as if u have a choice xoxo)

it was really a perfect combination of a few things

im a taurus so i spend every second i can in bed

im a taurus so i highly value comfort over basically anything else, especially at home

i was already having a bedding crisis because my old comforter and sheets were from college and not my style anymore. and i feel like the color scheme of your bed can really set the tone for your whole room you know? but as soon as i saw these i was like yeah yes that’s it that’s what i want. and i searched everywhere for something cheaper but nothing compared to the color or reviews of these sheets, at least not at any better price

i was able to buy a big throw blanket instead of a duvet cover, which was more expensive technically but i don’t have a duvet insert so i would’ve had to buy that too. and it’s like. okay i respect duvet covers but they’re just not me. im so painfully low maintenance that i just know it would drive me up a wall. but the blanket is my favorite blanket in the world. it’s super lightweight so in the winter i just double up with a soft blanket but since it’s gotten hotter it’s saved me from a lot of sleep sweating!

i need $300 so bad right now it’s not even funny but i still wouldn’t even think of giving them up. that’s how committed i am to this bedding

did i mention im a taurus?

i literally have more to say but i think that’s enough (for now) HOWEVER i think this pic of my favorite little corner explains everything else

i rest my case as they rest theirs

[ID: A picture of my bed in the corner of the room taken in natural lighting. The edge of a tapestry is visible, showing a cloud and varied warm-colored beams. The bed has burnt orange sheets and a gold blanket with the edge flipped up, revealing a fuzzy off-white blanket beneath it. There’s one dark green pillow by the tapestry and two gold square pillows at the head of the bed. Where the blanket is folded, there are two Squishmallow plushes tucked in. One is a bee and one is an orange. End ID]

[oven-thermometer]

An Unwelcome Guest

Pairing: mentions of Strife x reader

Warnings: home invasion, mild-angst.

Song for the vibe: Crumb - Locket

Author notes: let's not talk about the fact that this might be based a lil 🤏 off of irl experience lmao

You trudged your way to your apartment door, slowly prying the cold metal handle open. Sluggishly, your tired eyes strained to make their way around the bright space. The wild contrast in lighting made you cringe slightly, not that you had the energy to fully react anyways.

It was another one of those days you would've preferred if the world had ended - not that you would've reacted then either - if demons had sprung from large tears in the Earth or if angels had shot down from the clouds again you wouldn't have cared.

His eyes landed on your hunched form, as he hurriedly moved from his spot on the couch he studied you. Your eyelids were heavy, hair messy, clothes wet from the merciless rain and cheeks glistening with a mix of tears and water. Although, somehow, none of that mattered much to him. You were here.

**

As your knees buckled beneath you, you gave into the warm plushness of your duvet. It's tantalizing softness had tempted you enough, you had had enough of it's slander. How dare it look so comfortable.

Finally letting your tired bones rest, you lay back against your cool sheets - giving in to rest.

Strife was next to you, softly rubbing small circles into your shoulder as his face was buried in the crook of your neck. His calm breathe grounding you as you peacefully slipped away.

And then it hit you. Like a harsh back-hand to the face, you remembered you had left the kitchen light on. Groaning lightly, you shifted your head to the side to see Strife already asleep. He always fell like a baby into a deep, impenetrable state.

Smiling, you gently lifted yourself from his hold - he too had worked hard this week, you knew that, so he needed this sleep just as much as you. It's arguable that fighting evil masterminds of the underworld was a more difficult job than yours.

Your feet dragged on the floor as you shuffled towards the kitchen.

'The only light on left in the house had to be the farthest away, huh.' you thought to yourself.

As you made your way into the room, an odd sense fell over you. You felt like you were being watched. A dark figure loomed behind you - as you turned around, deathly cold twinges were shooting down your spine. The being had a large hood covering it's face, the connected cloak concealing it's body.

Although, something was set in your mind that this thing... Was familiar. You knew them. The cold left your body, and was replaced with a mellow feeling of contentment. Something pushed you to shrug your shoulders, as all of a sudden you realized something: This was probably just Death - as odd as it sounded, Death occasionally needed to eat as well. Albeit not as often as his other siblings, he did eat. And you've seen this cloak before, it was similar to the one you had gifted Death. You suddenly felt increasingly silly for worrying over Death. Your tired mind probably just didn't register that this was in fact your partner's brother, you had rightfully gotten a harmless fright.

You shrugged again, more to calm your nerves again. You simply turned around once again and slipped your fingers over the light switch, the room going dark. The figure moved further back into the kitchen, not that you saw - you had already shuffled your way back to your bedroom.

Plopping back down on your bed unceremoniously, your eyes quickly drifted shut. You felt a rustle next you. Strife shifted his head back into your neck and drowsily gave a short hum before asking, "Where'd you go?"

"Just to," you pasued for a yawn, "put off the kitchen light. I saw Death in the kitchen, he must've been pretty hungry from the mission then." You spoke slowly, the exhaustion clear in your tone and in the way your voice dipped.

"Y/N... We live alone."

[bvccy]

Nothing to Despair | Preview 2 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

WARNINGS: Just nightmares and hurt/comfort, MORE ANGST

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: It's been 84 years and the fic is still not done, so have another preview. I didn't wanna post more, and this is a rough version, but then N I G H T M A R E S happened and NEW GIFS I was just bouncing to contribute so here, have this. Ironically, it's not Bucky having the nightmare in my fic, it's the reader/MC having one and being comforted by him, but still gonna take advantage of this lovely gif <3

She was running aimlessly away, but he was always behind her. She could hear him catching up, and if she turned her head she could see him coming closer, and his angry heaving breath was almost right behind her, and then she woke up.

Laying in bed frozen stiff with fear, her eyes took in the darkness of — oh, her hotel room at the Grand Continental in Cer. She stood up in bed and looked around: safe, quiet, and if she tried to remember her dream she already couldn't. She picked up her phone on the bedside table, fiddling with the Stark tech to see the time: 3:36 AM.

The fear was so intense she thought she would die if she didn't hold another person, right now. She had never felt anything like this in her life: not when falling out of a tree, not when flying, not when she got the mission from Steve, not when Bucky cornered her…

Bucky. He was sleeping in the other room. If she could just — No. He would either laugh at her for being silly or resent her for waking him up. She could almost hear him now: "You woke me up, for this? Take it like a big girl and go back to bed."

But there's never been a fear like this… in her blood and her bones, and her mind and underneath it. Through the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart thrumming, and though she knew it was impossible, a part of her mind was certain there was someone there with her, waiting, ready to —

It took three minutes of hugging herself in bed and trying, uselessly, to not be scared to absolute death before her heart won over her head and she stepped lightly to Bucky's room. She didn't even knock, she scratched at the door lightly. If he was awake, he'd hear it; if he wasn't, she won't wake him up.

No response. When she turned the handle slowly and inched the door open enough to poke her head through, only then did Bucky stir in bed. She could just make out the shape of him through the light from the window.

As he groaned sleepily and shifted in his sheets to get up, she wasn't sure if he was upset with her or not, and it didn't escape her notice how his hand went underneath the pillow — a weapon hidden there, most likely — but then he spoke into the dark and sounded gentle, if groggy.

"That you, doll?"

"Yeah… Can I come in?" she whispered, clinging to the door and trembling.

"Something happen?" asked Bucky, practically awake already.

"No, nothing, but — " How to tell him, how to explain a reason as dumb as this?

He was sitting up in bed by now, rubbing his face with his flesh hand, and then he looked right at her. "Come on in."

She stepped through gratefully but still ashamed, holding onto herself in her flimsy nightgown as she padded to his large bed. As she got closer, she could finally see him: soft hair ruffled, a stubble just barely grown, a plain white tank top stretching across his chest and the hint of scarring around the left shoulder.

His eyes looked curiously up at her, even worried. She hated depending on him, or anyone, and he'd noticed it. So when she looked at him pleadingly from beside his bed, he looked ready to listen, and to do almost anything.

"This is so stupid but —"

"Tell me."

"I'm really sorry to bothe—"

"It's ok, just tell me."

"I had a nightmare please don't laugh at me."

He wordlessly lifted the duvet and patted the bed for her to lie down.

She got in quickly and, before she could think of whether it was the smart thing to do, snuggled up into his body, her face at his neck and knees brushing against his stomach. She had enough control to keep her arms folded to her chest and didn't grab onto him, although she wanted to. Her heart was still beating powerfully away, her ribs and neck pulsing with its rhythm, her breath near panting.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's ok." he shushed her, one heavy arm going up to tuck her in then staying curled around her, braced against her back on top of the covers.

"This never happened before." she whispered apologetically. "I think I'll be fine in… a few minutes."

"Get the adrenaline out of your body, I know."

She paused and wondered if she should ask, then decided. "You get like this too?"

"Night terrors? Yeah, used to have them a while."

"I don't think it's a night terror… Not really."

"Good." he breathed into her hair, a touch away from a kiss.

It made sense why he'd be so sympathetic. He probably understood what she was going through better than she did, and suddenly she was filled with pity at the thought of him going through that alone — that and even worse, which was unimaginable. She snuggled in just slightly closer, but this time it was not for her own sake, and she regretted, with the strength of real guilt, that she did not know him sooner, that she couldn't be there for him when he needed someone —

"H-how did you get over yours?"

— if, in fact, he didn't have someone already.

"Slowly."

She sighed and rubbed her knuckles against his chest, the closest thing to a caress she could manage, and all around her she felt him freeze for a second in an intake of breath.

"M-must've been some nightmare." to get you to cuddle with me, he left unsaid. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." she sighed. "I already forgot it. But this fear, it's not going away…"

"It's quite something, isn't it." Bucky softly said, the arm around her back moving slightly to brush a thumb over her shoulder in slow, caressing motions.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, feeling surrounded by his warmth as his chin rested lightly on top of her head, both of them melting into the pillows. Slowly, her fear left her, and she became aware of the scent of him burning her up from the inside, sharp and spicy and just a bit sweet, and how she could just about hear his heartbeat, and his breathing, and how she had never seen that much of his naked skin before — though she barely could at all in the dark.

His fingers started making circles over her shoulder, lazy and absentminded, and she had to bury the mournful thought that this was the first time she'd ever felt anything like it.

Bucky pulled her imperceptively closer, bit by bit as the tension left her, and soon the back of her curled hands fell to rest against his chest, her knuckles pressed against a naked patch of skin. She felt him inhale sharply at the contact, and underneath his sheets she too trembled at the quiet tenderness.

"Don't worry, doll." he breathed into her hair. "I'll keep you safe."

She must have dozed off at some point. She became aware of Bucky's hand now hung around her hip, her own arm flung around what measure of him she could reach. Her head was resting on his broad chest and one leg was curled on top of his underneath the blankets. He seemed sound asleep, breathing softly beneath her, head tilted toward her as the faintest sliver of morning light shone through the curtains.

Without moving her head much, she looked up at his face. Bucky seemed more grim asleep than he did awake, his delicately drawn mouth resting in a frown, his brows low and with a hint of tension, his unshaven cheeks scruffy and dark. He must've put on a bit of a show to seem cheerful in front of her, when he did…

She let her eyes lick across his figure, down his thick neck, the stretch of tough skin, and the chest with the hint of hair peeking from underneath the tank top. She breathed in the warm scent of him and suddenly the feeling of his arm gripping her waist, even in the gentleness of sleep, was overwhelming.

There was too much of him, too close, too trusting, too intimate, so wide open just for her, and the inescapable hint of his affection distressed her: with how impossible it was, with how demanding it promised to be.

Slowly, she lifted her cheek off his chest and slinked away, his hot hand scraping across her figure as she went and stepped backwards onto the floor, trying to move the bed as little as possible. She looked at the watch on the bedside table: 4:55 AM.

Tip-toeing away, she left his room and closed the door with the faintest click she could manage.

Bucky opened his eyes to find his bed empty, the room quiet and just light enough for shadows to stretch across the length of it. It was just like every other morning but somehow, through her presence the night before, she'd taken something away. It's not like he'd hoped to wake up to her in his arms. Of course not. That would be silly.

His hand moved over the sheets: cold. She probably left as soon as he fell asleep. It was amazing enough that she had come at all, but then again he had an idea of how her nightmare made her feel; if hers were anything like his, she'd have gone to just about anyone. Even… Don't finish that thought.

He turned in bed, his back to where she'd been, facing the windows and the balcony glass doors beyond which the crowns of far trees swung in the morning air, big and beflowered and brimming with birds. It was, in every other way, a beautiful morning.

And things were so close to being perfect. He had her there, he'd held her in his arms, he'd been given the chance to be good to her, and wanted, and there when she needed him, and over it all hung the cloud of wonder at what a rare person he had found in her. Yes, she was a bit sullen sometimes and unassuming, but he realised those things were what he liked so much about her, that opening to being cared for so precisely shaped for what he had to give.

She wasn’t like the women he remembered from before; she didn’t try to make herself seem softer or sharper or more cheerful than she was, with a carefully curled mane of hair or an impossibly fertile figure, nor was her every gesture an invitation to flirt. She was dull and tender by comparison, a little sensitive and a bit sad, like a girl that never grew up but who, with so small a twist, might suddenly become beautiful.

When he pushed aside his guilts and longings, Bucky was grateful for all those little faults she had. He knew that if she poured her energies into seduction, she could be terrifying and irresistible. So he decided that he liked her distant and sullen and shy, even if it kept her from him. If anything, it only made him like her more, long for her more, want her for his own flawed self; take his pity, that her pride couldn't stand, and turn it into the most dedicated caring.

But he wondered was was wrong with her — what was wrong with him for her. She could hardly stand more than a few seconds' touch from him, like a raw nerve. Did she just not like the way he looked, or walked? Or the things he said, or how he treated her, or talked? Was it the arm? Was it his age? Was it who he was?

All of these were plausible, but somehow it felt like he was missing something. She wasn't just indifferent, she was so deliberately distant it almost seemed calculated. And she didn't just decide to avoid him, he realised: she did it instinctively. Her body reacted first, and she followed. At the periphery of these unhappy thoughts was the pitying realisation that she'd had practice.

Bucky wasn't heartbroken by her tacit rejections, of course not, he wasn't that far gone yet (but there was no way his was the first heart she'd broken).

He thought back to how she was around other men. Charming, more cheerful, joking and flirty but still, in the end, distant. All the teasing jokes distracted from her, all deep conversations distracted from her, all heartfelt consolations distracted from her, every incline of her body faced away.

After only a few minutes, Bucky relented and turned, burying his face into the pillow she'd slept on. It actually still smelled faintly of her hair. It was so specific to her and so comforting, her perfume mixed with something sweet and cloying and just a touch salty, it made his mouth water and his loins burn.

He rolled onto his back, lifted the sheets off his body, and looking down he noticed the state of himself.

"Down, boy." he sighed. "She's not here anymore."

Bucky rolled out of bed and got ready for his morning push-ups. They always made him feel better… Maybe he could add another couple hundred today.

[breakyeol]

Midnight Train

one shot

┗ pairing : kyungsoo x reader

word count : 7.5k (ohmygod this was supposed to be a drabble)

warnings : language, explicit sex

a/n; I saw a picture of soo on a train and was suddenly inspired. also, don’t go with a stranger to a hotel. not a good idea in real life. be safe kids. I have zero self restraint when it comes to soo, please forgive me.

You don’t know what time it is, and honestly you don’t really care. But it’s late, you can tell that much. Clusters of tiny stars are shining brightly against the inky blackness of the cloudless night sky, the full moon bathing the city in its soft milky glow.

Any other night, perhaps you’d stare up at it in awe, bustling mind eased and taken by its natural beauty. It’s not often you see a night sky like that, so vast and endless and whole, unobscured by clouds or light pollution.

But tonight, it hurts. It hurts to look at something so beautiful.

Because tonight, you lost something beautiful. Or at least, something you once believed was beautiful. Maybe that’s why it hurts so terribly, sitting like heavy stones in your chest, a lingering reminder refusing to let you be. Because something you’d once thought was beautiful turned out to be something so horrifically gnarled and ugly, something so twisted and mangled that you’d managed to fool yourself into believing it was magnificent.

It’s the feeling of betrayal that has salty tears dripping down your cheeks, slipping down over your shuddering lips and clinging to the slope of your chin.

You feel tricked.

You feel lied to.

You feel deeply wronged.

So you stand on that metal platform surrounded by the cool night air, crying silently and so terribly alone, and you refuse to look up at the beautiful starry sky, only staring blankly ahead at the dull metal wall on the opposite side of the rusting tracks.

The platform trembles beneath your sneaker clad feet as the train pulls into the station. A low screech shatters the heavy silence that previously encased you and you blink in mild surprise, abruptly broken from your inner turmoil. Your hand lifts, roughly swiping away any lingering wetness from your face before you’re pressing forward. It takes more concentration than it should have to push through the weakness in your knees, but you manage, stepping carefully over the small gap in the floor and through the door.

A middle aged man dressed in navy blue greets you with a vaguely forced smile, eyes tired and underlined by dark bags. It must’ve been a long day for him as well. Sympathy draws the corners of your lips upward, though you’re certain it looks unstable and awkward on your downcast face.

Moving past him, you take in the state of the train. A soft breathe of relief escapes your lips, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Empty. Completely empty. As much could be expected at this hour of the night. Most people were already home, tucked safely beneath the comforting warmth of their duvets.

If only…

Swallowing back the thought, you make your way through the rows of seats, not stopping until you reach the very back of the vacant train car. Your exhausted body is more than happy to slump against the plush red fabric, limbs going slack the moment your butt makes contact. It’s pure relief for your sore feet and unsteady legs.

But the relief is short lived.

Only a handful of seconds pass before there’s a familiar tug in your chest, and you’re thrown right back into the abyss of your own memories, regrets, and sorrows. A slow ache consumes your head and you have to close your eyes. Too much is going on in your mind. You wish there was an off button for your thoughts. Better yet, your emotions– your pain. Life would be far more convenient that way.

A muffled voice suddenly crackles over the intercom, announcing the train’s departure from the station. Your eyes flutter open and, by chance, they flick over, only to widen in surprise.

There, in the seat on the opposite side of the aisle, is a man.

For a moment, you’re confused as to how you could’ve missed him. Then you note how he’s hunched over, body curled in on itself, head resting up against the window. The glass has fogged beneath his nose, where a pair of thick rimmed glasses rest low on his bridge. The corner of your lip twitches at the sight of his hands tucked comfortably between his thighs. It’s cool for a summer night, and you find yourself wondering if he’s cold. The answer is a clear yes if the goosebumps decorating his arms are anything to go by. Your fingers subconsciously twitch towards the coat resting across your shoulders, the one thing you’d gone out of your way to grab on your way out.

Would it be too strange for you to offer it to him?

Something aches inside of you though at the sight of his downward arched brows and pouted lips. He looks so terribly alone and so awfully small. You couldn’t just leave him like that. Stranger or otherwise, the thought of doing nothing made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

Silently, you tug at the sleeves of the coat until it falls off your shoulders, pooling behind you uselessly. Sliding carefully to the edge of your seat, you tap your fingers gently against the plastic lining of his. If he hears it, he ignores it. Or, perhaps he’s sleeping. But, with how tightly his jaw is clenched, you doubt that.

“Excuse me?” The words are a whispered breath on your lips. Nonetheless, they were effective in finally drawing his attention. Slowly, his eyes flicker open and drift over to meet yours. For a moment, the ability to speak is stolen from you.

Those eyes— they were big and round and deep. Deeper and darker than the entire ocean, or rather, the night sky. Because within their depths, were stars. Bright, twinkling flecks of soft light. It was like he’d stolen them right out of the night sky.

They were iridescent. And they were beautiful.

So beautiful that it hurt.

It hurt to look at him.

But it was a different kind of hurt. It was the delicious kind that reaches beneath your skin and deep into your very being. That ripples through you in slow, heavy waves, igniting blistering flames in their wake. They pull you in and swallow you whole all at once. Looking away wasn’t an option. Even if you could, you’re not so sure you’d want to.

He raises a confused brow. The motion, however slight, enough to bring you out of your thoughts and back to the real world. Clearing your throat, you stutter back into motion, holding out the coat in suddenly warm palms. His features twist, a light frown pulling at the corners of his full lips as his gaze flicks between your face and the clothing item extended towards him.

Dryness invades your mouth and you force yourself to swallow down the sudden buzz of nerves, tipping your chin forward in feigned confidence.

“You look cold.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he presses his lips together and you know simply from the look on his face that he’s about to refuse.

“Take it,” you insist with a soft chuckle before he gets the chance to shoot you down, “it seems like you need it more than I do.”

He glances down, briefly taking in the position he’s currently curled in. A soft shade of pink tints his cheeks and he clears his throat, straightening himself out. But it’s only when you nudge it persistently in his direction one last time that he finally accepts it, dipping his head in silent gratitude. You watch in quiet satisfaction as he slips it on, fitting him almost perfectly, albeit a pinch on the larger side.

The corner of your lips tip upward, then you turn away. The clicking and low hum of the train as it bustles along the tracks fills the silence that fell over you. Though it doesn’t last too tremendously long.

“Ah– I think this is yours.”

You almost flinch at the low, smooth voice that breaks through the quiet. Head spinning back around, you meet his large, beautiful eyes. Large, beautiful, red eyes.

Crying. He had been crying. It was obvious now. You could see it in his swollen eyelids, flushed cheeks and reddened nose. You wondered if he was looking back at you and seeing the same telltale signs of heartache in your features.

But you bite your tongue, and drop your gaze to the small, silver band cradled in his palm. A ring. Your ring. The same ring with those damn initials engraved on them. The same ring that carried too many memories.

Memories of cheesy pickup lines and secret glances. Memories of late night talks losing sleep. Memories of clammy hand and shy caresses. Memories of movie dates and hot blushes. Memories of petty arguments paved over by gentle kisses and murmured apologies. Memories of love. Memories of loss. Memories of lies and pain and betrayal. Memories you no longer wanted.

You sigh softly, a bittersweet smile touching your lips.

“Keep it.”

His eyebrows jump, gaze bouncing between the ring and your face. “It… looks important.”

“It was,” you admit softly, interlacing your fingers, “but not anymore.”

The expression that crosses his features catches you off guard. It’s not of confusion or of judgment or disbelief, but of understanding. Understanding. How rare.

“Are you sure?” He asks quietly.

For a moment, you fix your gaze on the small, silver item that not long ago made your heart soar with nothing but pure delight every time you looked at you, but that now roused only painful heartache and unwanted memories. There was no going back to how things were, no chance of recovery for your once steadfast love. You’d been proven wrong one too many times, and refuse to be made a fool of again.

Sometimes, holding on did more damage than letting go.

“I’m sure.”

He stares at you, a conflicted look glinting in his dark eyes. You couldn’t quite read him, couldn’t quite make sense of the swirling emotions in his heavy gaze. But then he moved, fingertips reaching for something on the back of his neck. You tilted your head in confusion, briefly distracted by the endearing way his face twisted into an expression of concentration. Then, you catch a glimpse of something metallic— a necklace. He made quick work of the clasp, the item slipping easily off of his neck and into his awaiting palm.

“Then you…” he let out a soft breath as he extended his hand to you, fingers enclosed around the necklace, “you should take this.”

It was a simple piece of jewelry, a thin silver chain with what appeared to be a small, circular locket with two sets of initials engraved into it. The metal was surprisingly warm and you found yourself toying with the locket, tracing the pair of initials with your index finger.

“Which is yours?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“DKS. Doh Kyungsoo.”

“Doh Kyungsoo.” You repeat softly, testing his name on your tongue. There’s something melodic about the way it flows off your lips, and you like the way it tastes. Doh Kyungsoo. It was a name befitting his face.

“Pretty.”

It’s the lateness of the night that prevents your usual filter from functioning properly, the word escaping you before you can second guess it. Faint warmth touches your face, and you fix your eyes on the locket, not wanting to look up and gauge his reaction just yet.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft, and you find you can no longer fight the upward lift of your gaze. But the warm pink cheeks and shy smile you’re met with soothe the nervous buzz in your stomach. “And- and yours?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as he slides a gentle thumb over the engravings. Everything about this man is gentle, soft, like the moonlight that falls across the sides of his face, making him appear to have a silver halo. His eyes, his skin, his voice, his lips; he’s soft all over, and you’re willing to bet that that same nature reaches into the very core of his being.

You wonder if he’d be soft under your fingertips, against your lips, caressing your skin.

The thought invades your mind so quickly that it momentarily stuns you, and you draw back, blinking hard and with a sudden warmth in your face. Your feelings always have the strangest timing.

He asked you a question, you remind yourself, forcing yourself out of the dangerous grip of your own thoughts.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” Your throat strains around the words and you have to swallow against the unexpected dryness.

His lips twirl. “Pretty.”

The cool air in the train car is suddenly suffocating.

Oh god.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

What did you just say?

His eyes widen and you hold your breath, wishing you could pull the words right back out from the air that they now hung in, heavy and demanding, unable to be ignored.

“I don’t.”

The softness of his reply contrasts heavily with the expression that flashes across his face, the glint in his eye as his fingers tighten around your ring. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, the warm metal of his locket pressing against your fingers.

“Me either.” You take a breath. “I know a hotel.”

Silence. Soft, warm, intoxicating silence.

Then his tongue drags over the full, pink flesh of his bottom lip, and you know you’re done for.

“Take me there.”

It’s a nice hotel.

The interior is pretty. Simple, but pretty. Flecks of gold complimenting soft, warm tones of brown. The woman behind the counter even manages to muster up a somewhat friendly smile as she passes you a room key despite the late hour; though, you’re certain she’d much rather be anywhere else in the world. You also don’t miss the soothing hum of orchestral melodies that pump through hidden speakers as you step into the mirrored walls of the elevator.

It’s a nice hotel.

But you can’t seem to appreciate it. Not fully, anyways. The mere knowledge of Doh Kyungsoo’s presence ruptures your sanity, and deems you wholly incapable of thinking rationally. The promise of midnight’s caress lingers in the air around you, invading your every sense like a poisonous gas. It’s something you can’t see, can’t smell, can’t touch. But you feel it. You feel it pulsing in your veins, dizzying your mind, eating away at your self control. It’s like there’s a string being pulled taut between you, the tension growing greater and greater with every passing second. Your gut churns in anticipation, skin prickling. You can barely keep your feet from shuffling and your hands from fidgeting as a foreign impatience gnaws at you.

But then the door of room 107 clicks shut, and the string snaps.

You have him pressed up against the door before your brain can condone it, mouth feasting on his. He doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, hands sliding around your waist and pressing into the small of your back, holding you tightly against him.

You pour yourself into his kiss, pour out your pain and heartache, pour out your hopes and dreams that will never be, pour out your longing and desperation. You pour until he’s overflowing. But even then, you don’t stop, and he doesn’t want you to. Because just as you’re pouring yourself into him, he’s pouring himself into you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible, filling the void that another created. He’s chasing away the emptiness with his eager tongue, fending off the icy chill of betrayal with his warm caress.

Greedy fingers find the collar of your borrowed coat, hurriedly pushing it off his shoulders. There’s a soft thud when the thick material hits the floor. A low groan vibrates in his throat, one hand raising to cup the back of your head while your own slip beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It’s over his head and discarded onto the floor in a matter of moments, and then there’s only skin. Warm, smooth skin. He’s hot to the touch, almost searing, but you can’t find it within yourself to mind the burn.

Distracted and disoriented by his feverish kiss, you don’t realize you’re moving backwards until the back of your knees hit the end of a mattress and suddenly you’re sprawled flat on your back. Kyungsoo hovers above you, panting and red in the face. His lips are swollen and a delicious shade of pink, just begging to be bitten. But it looks like he wants to say something, so you refrain.

“I— I don’t usually do things like this.” He admits, voice unstable and breathy. “Actually, I never do things like this.”

His confession has a light smile curling onto your lips. “Me either.” You murmur, admiring the way the silver moonlight spills across his sun kissed skin. He shudders faintly as your fingers trace over his bare waist, up over the small of his back, following the length of his spine until they reach their final destination, threading themselves through his thick black locks. His midnight eyes flutter behind the rims of his glasses when you offer a gentle tug. He makes no objection as you carefully remove the spectacles from his face, reaching over to set them gentle on the nightstand before returning your attention to his handsome face.

“But there’s a first for everything.”

He professes his agreement with the press of his hot mouth against yours. The kiss is softer this time, probably because you allow him to lead. It’s slow, deep, tender— tender in such a way that it’s somewhat surprising, especially between two strangers. But you don’t question it, instead relishing in the slow drags of his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth.

His lips are sweet, tasting of mint and honey. But there’s a bitterness, a distinctive saltiness that clings to the plush flesh. You don’t have to question if his tears slipped over them, tears he probably hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Briefly, you wonder if he can taste the lingering residue of your own heartache. Then you feel an unmistakable hardness against your hip, and stop thinking all together.

He groans, the sound soft and low. “Can I touch you?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

At your concession, warm fingers rouse goosebumps across your skin as he feathers delicate touches over your exposed stomach. Chills roll down your spine, body arching up, seeking out more— and he happily delivers. You jolt as he presses his face into your neck, hot tongue licking from the curve of your jaw down to the slope of your shoulder. All the while, his hands slip higher up your body, sliding beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, not stopping until they find the swells of your bra clad chest. You hiss as his thumb drifts underneath of it, slowly circling your rapidly hardening nipple.

He hums against your collarbone, pleased with your reaction. “Sensitive?” He asks, though you can just make out the slightest of mocking pitches clinging to the word. You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you push your hips up, rolling them slowly, deeply into his, drawing out a low groan from his lips, forehead falling against yours.

A smirk traces your lips. “Sensitive?”

He chuckles, hooded eyes fluttering open. The look within them, the lust, the hunger, the desire, ignites every last fiber of your being. You can’t seem to remember the last time anyone has looked at you with such intense want. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel incredible. To be wanted. To be craved. Even if it was by a complete stranger.

You tip your chin up, easily finding his pillowy mouth and smothering it against your own. His kiss was addictive. You just could not seem to get enough of it.

All too soon, he was pulling away and you have to bite your tongue to stifle a sound of protest. His hands find the bottom of your top, toying with it for a short moment before he asks, “can I take this off?”

Abruptly, you sit up, forcing him to fall back onto his heels. “Don’t ask. Just do.” He can only watch with lust blown eyes as you peel your shirt off of your body in one swift motion, exposing your bare skin to his ravenous gaze. A deep moan rises from the depths of his chest, the sound rousing an inexplicable heat in the pit of your stomach that quickly seeps into your bloodstream and spreads through the rest of your body like an erotic poison. Teeth biting sinking into your lip, you trace a finger over the strap of your bra.

“This, too?”

“Don’t ask,” he takes in a breath so deep that you can almost feel the hot rush of oxygen filling your lungs as well, “just do.”

You intend to laugh, finding enjoyment in this little game of yours, but the sounds breaks off halfway up your throat when his hands circle around your body and you feel his fingers making quick work of the clip, the tension giving way in a matter of seconds.

“I think that’s the fastest a mans ever been able to take off my bra.” You muse with a playful quirk of your brow, allowing him to nudge the grey material down the length of your arms, before tossing it uncaringly onto the floor. “I’m impressed.”

He smiles, and you’re, once again, immediately floored by its beauty. “I’m glad I could leave an impression.”

Please, feel free to leave me with more than just an impression.

Somehow, you manage to bite your tongue and keep the words locked in your mind, quickly deciding that undoing his belt is a task far more deserving of your attention. It’s impossible to miss the bulge straining against the tight confines of his jeans, but you get the sense that he’s unashamed. You don’t mind. Besides, what’s shame between a couple of heartbroken strangers?

“Fuck.” He huffs out the curse, mouth falling open as your curious fingers caress over his arousal through the tight, black fabric of his boxers. You can feel the heat of him, the impressive hardness giving away his unspoken need. “No, no… let me take of you first.” He murmurs, gently brushing your wandering hands away from his clothed length. “Lay back for me?”

Christ. You happily fall back into the plush white pillows, legs spreading around the shape of his body. Desire coils in your belly in tight, hot tendrils as his hands slide up the length of your legging clad thighs, skin burning fiercely in their wake. His lips press slow kisses to the skin of your hip while his fingers gently peel the article off of your body, leaving you almost completely bare aside from a pair of thin black underwear. It’s a sight he eagerly drinks in.

“Please.” You plead pathetically, a need unlike anything you’d ever experienced pulsing like liquid ecstasy through your veins. His gaze pierces you, pupils blown as his lips graze over your clothed heat. There’s no need to elaborate, he knows what you want, knows like he can read the desire on your face. It’s static shock when he slips a finger beneath the undergarment, grazing your slick lips in the process of shifting it to the side. It’s pure electricity when he dips down and slips his tongue over your core, all the way up to circle your sensative clit. Your hips jerk up, but he presses them back down into the mattress with steady hands.

“You taste so sweet…” he breathes, hot, praising words caressing your burning skin and igniting an angry flame in the pit of your stomach. A low whine rumbles in the back of your throat, eyes fluttering in bliss as he teases your slick opening with warm, pillowy lips. Fingers slipping through his thick black locks, you weakly tug him closer, a familiar ache swelling in the pit of your stomach.

“Tell me what feels good.” You can only nod dumbly at his muffled request, the vibration of his voice directly against your wet core having a mildly dizzying effect. Pleasure spills into your veins at the same time he takes you by surprise, a single finger pressing inside of you. An airy ‘oh god’ flutters off your lips, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, so he presses, “good?”

“Yes. Yes, so good. So good.” You manage to choke out as he tugs at one of your legs, positioning it over his shoulder. He’s looking up at you now, starry eyes taking on a dangerous, lustful glow beneath the silver moonlight. It’s the kind of look that makes your stomach twist and your pussy throb.

Oh god. Who is this man? To make you feel this kind of pleasure… it’s the kind of pleasure no one has ever managed to make you feel before. It’s the kind of pleasure that licks at every cell of your being, rippling through you in slow, heavy waves. Your toes curl, your back bows. Your muscles shudder. It’s hot and it’s everywhere, invading every inch of you like a slow poison seeping through your bloodstream, infecting you down to your very core.

Doh Kyungsoo. You don’t know much about him. Only his name and that his heart is in a similar state as your own. But it doesn’t seem to matter.

Or, rather— that’s all that seems to matter.

Perhaps you sensed it, sensed his pain, his broken heart. And when you looked into those beautiful starry eyes, you had seen suffering that mirrored your own. It drew you to him, and him to you. You’d come to a mutual agreement in that moment. What was the use in suffering alone? Might as well share your pain with another. Maybe it would ease the hurt, or maybe it would just make it all the worse. Whichever came to be, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Not right now, at least. Not with the way that his lethal tongue was lapping at your heat in slow, deep strokes. Not with the way he was thrusting his fingers inside of you, curling, caressing, exploring.

It was too good to be concerned with anything else, future and past alike. Even your broken heart had become an afterthought under his bliss inducing ministrations.

“Oh god—” a shuttering curse flew from your chest, heel pressing into his shoulder blade. He had wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over it expertly and at the same time, his fingers had found that perfect little spot inside of you that sent white hot electricity crackling through your veins.

Then, the coil snapped. Specks of white invade your vision, and for a moment you believe you are seeing stars. Or perhaps it’s his eyes, but you can’t really tell which direction you’re looking in, the incredible pleasure of the high he had just thrust you into entirely too dizzying and disorienting to decipher up from down or left from right. A choked moan followed by a broken whine escapes your gaping lips. Your hips jump off the mattress, refusing to be restrained any longer as they grind themselves desperately against his heavenly mouth. He doesn’t object, only moaning deeply as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

“Holy fuck…” you pant, chest heaving. He chuckles, climbing up and attaching his lips to yours. You taste yourself, the bitter sweetness hitting your tastebuds with a delicate swipe of his tongue against yours.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he hums into the kiss, gentle thumb drawing slow circles against the skin of your hip, “got me so hard...”

“Yeah?” You ask, voice airy. He nods, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. “Let me feel.”

You feel him smile into the kiss. Then his hand finds your wrist, guiding it slowly down the length of his body, until your fingertips are feathering over the strained fabric of his boxers. He’s hard. So hard. You can almost feel him throbbing. Any haziness lingering from your previous orgasm is immediately vanquished by the thought, wicked desire flooding your senses. He’s breathing hard against your throat, gripping tightly at the flesh of your thighs. He shudders violently when you find his tip, tracing it experimentally. The sound he produces in response is enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“Do you have a condom?”

His head snaps up, wide eyes meeting your hooded ones. He has to swallow a groan once he sees the expression on your face, the lust burning in your gaze. Nodding, he slips a hand into the pocket of his half off jeans and tugs out a small, square foil. You can’t help the mild amusement that curls the corners of your lips, the irony not lost on you. He huffs at you, “I like to be prepared.”

“I bet.” You croon, voice pitching playfully.

He grinds his hips into yours in retaliation. Still sensitive, you jolt beneath him with a quiet moan, a reaction that coaxed a mildly taunting smirk onto his glistening lips. Fixing him a glare lacking any genuine malice, you hook your fingers into the loops of his jeans and tug.

“Shut up and get naked.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, and you can’t help the way your heart trembles in your chest at the sight of his scrunched nose. The sound of it warms you up from the inside out, and you smile. He’s beautiful when he laughs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles, sitting up to kick his jeans onto the floor, followed suit by his boxers. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful completely bare, his honeyed skin and lean muscle on full display for your feasting eyes. Your tongue licks at the inside of your teeth, longing to steal a taste of him. But you refrain, barely, and only in favor of pressing the heels of your palms into his shoulders and flipping him onto his back. The swift change in position draws a surprised gasp from his lips, but he makes no complaint as you swing a leg over his hip and settle yourself on top of his thighs.

Plucking the condom from his hold, you shoot him a light smirk. “Let me help you with that.” His brows raise, pink tongue peeking out to drag over the corner of his mouth.

“Yes ma’am.” His voice, having dropped an entire octave, makes your skin prickle with goosebumps, arousal swirling to life in your stomach. Carefully, you tear open the wrapping and slip the rubber over his length. He visibly shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering when you not so accidentally allow your fingers to feather over his hot skin on the way down. Shifting forward, you position yourself above him, one had falling onto the mattress beside his head while the other teases your entrance with his tip. You want him inside of you, want to feel him stretch you out, want to feel him throbbing and hear those gorgeous sounds that you’ve already found yourself addicted to. And you don’t deny yourself of that desire, sinking down onto him in one swift motion.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you’re not completely certain if it was you or him or both. But you know it’s him that lets out the first real sound, a groan, low and smooth in your ears. The sound is trailed by a shaky curse, a breath of your name, and the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your hips, though, he makes no attempt to get you to move. After all, you have, what feels like, all the time in the world. There’s no need to rush things. He knows that.

For a handful of moments, you remain still, adjusting to him, to the blissful stretch. You can’t remember the last time anyone has filled you so well, so wholly.

Inhaling deeply, you push yourself into an upright position, palms flattening over the gentle swells of his chest to balance yourself on. When you finally move, it’s at a slow, deliberate pace. Controlled downward thrusts of your hips that have him filling you to that perfect depth over and over again. Heat consumes you, your skin trembling and perspiring within its grasp.

He’s holding you so tight, looking up at you with those starry eyes. Those beautiful starry eyes that have somehow both completely undone you, and made you complete again. In the span of only a few hours nonetheless. It’s baffling. He’s baffling. How can a man like him exist? How could anyone have let him go? Then again… he’s still a stranger. But he’s a beautiful stranger with the kind of gaze that reaches past your skin and bone and straight onto your core. It feels like he sees you, knows you, understands you. And oh god, after so long— it feels good to be seen.

You moan breathlessly, head tipping back as your hips roll hungrily over his. Below you, Kyungsoo is fighting to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment. But the pleasure is overwhelming, hot in his veins, boiling in his blood. He was losing himself, but in the best way imaginable. In you, to you, for you. Slowly, yet all at once. It’s like drowning: filling his lungs, pouring into every empty crevice of his body. It was consuming him— and he was loving it.

Searing fingertips dance over your body, up your stomach, over your breasts, across your collarbone. Your skin burns and shudders in their wake, the sensation so distracting you don’t notice one of his hands coiling around the back of your neck until you’re being tugged downward, swollen lips colliding with his. You moan in surprise before melting into him, gentle hands raising to cup his burning cheeks.

“You feel—” he gasps against your mouth, “so good.”

His hips snap up, causing your back to arch deeply, chest pressing tightly to his. You can feel the racing of his heart, the astonishing heat of his skin. You swear he’s going to burn right through you.

Not that you’d really mind.

“Kyungsoo.” You pant, hands dragging down the length of his neck to grip at his steady shoulders.

He tips his head forward, bleary, hooded eyes fixing on yours. “Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

There’s a pause. And then you’re on your back, splayed out beneath his body, and he’s fucking himself into you like his life depends on it. An uncontrollable cry is wretched from your throat, arms flinging themselves around his neck as he lifts your hips off the mattress. Like this, he can go even deeper, fuck you even better, make you come even faster. He knows what you need, and he knows exactly how to give it to you.

Ecstasy rips through you when his fingers reach between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with astonishing ease. Your legs raise, ankles locking around his back, urging him closer, urging him deeper. A strained groan tears free from his fluttering lips, his eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. In response, he rolls the heel of his palm over your clit, while simultaneously hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you that has been neglected for far too long.

It’s so much— too much. It feels like you’re on fire, and he’s pouring the gasoline. If he keeps going like this, you know you won’t last.

Then his eyes, those goddamn starry eyes, meet yours, and you feel yourself come undone.

If there was any lingering hurt, sadness, or regret— it is completely obliterated by the mind numbing intensity of your second orgasm. It hits you hard and fast; ten times more powerful than the first. Your muscles shudder, your skin burns, your mind empties. All you feel is pure, euphoric pleasure. Every cell of your being is consumed by it.

Kyungsoo doesn’t last a moment longer than you do, the second the first wave hits you, he’s spilling himself into the condom, moaning and trembling above you. You are just conscious enough to force your eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a second of the beautiful contortions of his handsome features as he reaches what looks to be the epitome of pleasure. There’s little doubt in your mind that the image of him unraveling will haunt your dreams in nights to come. Not that you’d mind. A face like his is a pretty good face to be haunted by.

By the time his high finally recedes, his muscles are so exhausted that they quiver beneath the weight of his body. He just barely manages to hold himself up long enough to roll safely off of you, before collapsing onto the mattress at your side.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Catching your breath alone is proving difficult enough without being hindered by any pathetic attempt at formulating a coherent sentence in the aftermath of one of the most mind blowing orgasms you’ve ever had.

Your cells are still trembling in the aftershock when Kyungsoo finally speaks— or, attempts to, at the very least.

“That was— you were— wow.”

Breathless laughter bubbles at your lips and your turn just in time to see a bashful smile creep onto his.

“You were pretty wow yourself, Doh Kyungsoo.”

Doh Kyungsoo in the wake of an amazing fuck is something to behold. His bare skin glistening with sweat, cheeks and chest flushed a deep red, his thick black hair is unruly and sticking out in strange directions. He is an absolute mess, and he is beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that your breath catches in your throat at the mere sight of him, though you try your best not to make it too obvious.

With a huff, you roll onto your side and toss an arm over his stomach while the other slips beneath the small of his back, fingers interlocking on the opposite side of his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you hum tiredly, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m an avid believer in cuddling after sex.”

He chuckles, and you feel the warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades as he tugs you closer.

“I don’t mind,” soft, starry eyes flit over your blissed out features, “I don’t mind at all.”

In the distance, a train horn blares.

“Why’d she leave you?”

The question doesn’t seem to catch him off guard. But his hand pauses where it had begun to trace abstract designs in your skin. He blinks, purses his lips, then exhales softly from his nose and stares blankly across the room.

“She… fell in love with someone else.”

This surprises you.

“That doesn’t make sense.” You mutter, brows furrowing.

He glances down at you. “What do you mean?”

You meet his eyes. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He falters. It’s only for a moment, in which his eyes widen, lips part, cheeks flush, but you can see something flash across his face. An emotion he gives you no time to decipher before he wipes the expression away and raises a brow, one corner of his mouth turning upwards in a lazy smirk.

“And how exactly, after knowing me for all of three hours, did you come to that conclusion?” Curiosity and amusement swim in his gaze.

“Call it a sixth sense,” you grin, peering up at him, “I’m good at reading people,” you contemplate that for a moment, “sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

Your shoulders raise and you watch your fingers trace invisible words across his chest. “I thought he was the kind of man that would never betray me, never lie to me, never break my heart. I thought I knew him. But look where we are now.”

A comforting hand caresses your waist.

“What happened?”

That could be a loaded question. What happened? Everything. Nothing. Something. But you opted to give him a more straightforward answer. “I’m not sure. The only part I really saw was him railing his secretary in our bed. But it’s not so hard to make up the rest of the story in my head.”

“His… secretary?”

You chuckle. “Cliché, isn’t it?”

“Yes but…” he cuts himself off and shakes his head, but you can practically see the gears beginning to turn in his head.

“What is it?”

He hesitates, then speaks slowly, carefully, as if contemplating each work before it could come out of his mouth. “It’s just, my g— ex-girlfriend worked as a secretary for this big shot new tech company. Crazy coincidence… right?”

A shock goes through you. Big shot new tech company? You’d definitely heard those words before. But there was just no way. The chances of it were one in a million. There had to be hundreds of big shot new tech companies in your city, and thousands of secretaries that worked for them. There was no way…

“W–What’s the name of the company?” You ask, even though you’re not entirely confident that you want to know the answer.

He swallows. “Strato Tech.”

You blink once, twice, then ask,

“I don’t suppose your girlfriend has a bird tattoo on her left shoulder?”

He offers a nod. “That would be her.”

There’s another pause. And then you’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard your stomach aches and tears spring to the corners of your eyes. Kyungsoo is in a similar state, bellowing belly laughter exploding from his chest, loud and uncontrollable.

For what feels like hours (but was probably only minutes) the two of you laugh. You laugh because what are the chances? What are the chances that your fiancé and his girlfriend work at the same big shot new tech company? What are the chances that they feel a mutual attraction and begin a secret affair? What are the chances that you stumble onto the same train as her heartbroken boyfriend and fall into bed with him? What are the chances?

“This is unbelievable.” Kyungsoo pants, tossing an arm over his eyes, a cheek achingly wide smile plastered across his face.

“When’d our lives turn into a poorly written soap opera?” You scoff in disbelief.

“You tell me.” He chuckles.

Then, an idea strikes you. Mischievous excitement sparks in your eyes.

“I feel like this is an opportunity we can’t miss, Doh Kyungsoo.”

He raises a brow, intrigue curling at the corners of his lips. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Smirking, you sit up on your knees and reach for something on the nightstand. “All you have to do… is sit back and look pretty.”

Chanyeol sighs softly, hands sliding over his face.

He fucked up. Bad.

It’s been hours. Hours since he made the mistake of bringing the new secretary back to your shared home. Hours since he watched helplessly as you stormed out. Hours since he kicked his accomplice to the curb and desperately scrambled to right his wrong. Hours since he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

It’s been hours, and he can’t stop worrying.

He tried calling and texting, but you must have turned off your phone because none of them went through. He even reached out to your friends and family. None of them knew what he’d done yet, but none of them knew where you were either.

He never meant for this to happen, really. He had been stressed out and drinking, and she’d been there. Apparently, in his tipsy mind, that was enough. Enough to throw years of his wonderful relationship out the window in a matter of moments.

It was a mistake.

But it was a mistake you wouldn’t easily forgive. Not like the (many) times when he accidentally knocked glassware off the counter and it shattered. Not like the time he showed up so late to one of your dates that you’d eaten both the main course and dessert all on your own. Not like the time he kept you up late and you’d been so tired the next morning you slept through a meeting. Not like the time he got upset because you beat him at his favorite video game and ignored you for two days.

This was a mistake that no amount of desperate apologies or late night kisses could fix.

He cheated.

He cheated.

Groaning in frustration, he presses the heels of his palms against his swollen eyes. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Then his phone dings.

He all but lunges for it, and feels his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name plastered across the top of the screen. His hands are shaking so terribly that he mistyped his password three times before finally managing to unlock it.

But the message that greets him makes any semblance of hope for your future together drop like a dead bird in his chest.

from : love of my life 💕

tell your little secretary friend that her sexy boyfriend says hi ;)

delivered 3:04 am

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Going Solo (Part Two) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for mentions of depression/mental illness*

Set a week following ‘Going Solo Part One’, Ara returns home and has to face the reality of how she has been feeling lately.

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

Dawn was breaking outside of the window as Ara flew through the clouds; eyeing clusters of towns and cities below as the plane changed altitude. She held her phone loosely in her hands, glimpsing down at the single word typed out in the notes app, knowing she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. 

Jimin…

Her ears were popping and her head hurt; a mixture of dehydration, lack of sleep and the changing pressure inside the cabin and she lowered her device with a sigh, tucking it neatly in her handbag as she shifted in the chair. She doubted she would be able to get any sleep before the plane landed, but it was worth a try. Her manager had reminded her to pack her padded pillow and she slipped it around her neck before reaching for her lavender-scented eye mask, blocking out the dim light and closing her eyes.

***

Jimin…

His name rang around her head and she fought the urge to take out her phone again. She knew what the unfinished message said; she hadn’t been able to get any further than that one word, despite the hours she had tried typing it out. The duvet was soft beneath her backside and she eyed her unpacked suitcase on the floor. One wheel was coming off and she would have to get a new one soon. She wondered if the suitcase was a metaphor for her life and stifled back a laugh, clutching her hands to her face when she realised it sounded more like a sob. She couldn’t cry though...she had already tried. Staring at the plain, white wall in her bedroom, she had spent the past half hour urging the tears to come; wanting to feel something, but the most she could manage was a half-strangled moan; the catharsis she so desperately needed never coming. Her eyes were bone dry and a little sore. 

She twisted to glance at the clock above the bed and realised she wouldn’t be able to keep herself awake long enough to wait for him to come home. He was at the studio with Jungkook, working on a duet for the younger member’s new album and was bound to lose track of the time; it was inevitable. Ara remembered early in their relationship one time she had spent an afternoon cooking for him, reading the recipe carefully from an old book she had picked up second hand and measuring the ingredients in meticulously accurate amounts. It had come out a little burnt, but she felt proud for having made something for someone else. He had been late home that night and the dinner had gone cold. She hadn’t blamed him; he was still making music with the group back then and the younger members had invited him back to their shared apartment to play video games after dance practice. She had told him her intentions that morning but, it turned out he had either forgotten or didn’t quite believe her when she said she would cook for them both. He had always underestimated her back then but who could blame him? She underestimated herself too. 

Ara realised she had laid down at some point during the past ten minutes but couldn’t remember doing it. The bed suddenly felt very big and very warm, the blankets thick and cosy and she allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment or two…

***

Ara grunted at the sound of the door opening on its hinges and opened her eyes. The room took a few moments to come into focus and, with some effort, she rolled onto her side towards the sound. Jimin’s head was poking around the side of the doorframe and she gave another tired grunt. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He whispered, a shy grin fixed on his face. 

She rubbed her eyes, watching as he creeped towards her, trying to be quiet despite her having already woken. He was holding a shoebox; a pink ribbon tied across the centre, and he placed it on the floor carefully. “What time is it?” She yawned. 

“Just gone eight. I’m sorry it took me so long.” When he reached the edge of the bed, he kneeled onto the sheets, crawling across to where she was laying and joining her side. He smiled sweetly, running his fingers through the tips of her hair. “I like the purple.”

She gave another grunt in response, clearing her throat. “I thought you liked the pink?” Her voice was still gruff from sleep and she suspected her hair was just as messy, but he kissed her anyway, pecking her cheek gently. 

“I like both.” He pulled away to look at her, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. “I like you.”

“You too.” She murmured. 

 “Did you have a long journey?” He asked, running a hand along her back until he reached her hip which he held steady. 

She nodded against the sheets. “I had to be up at four.”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah.” She confirmed. “We had a lot of luggage to check in.”

He shifted a little against the duvet until his knees touched hers. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” She mumbled, still feeling tired and achy from the journey. 

“Do you want to see what I bought you?” He asked hopefully. She looked past his shoulders towards the edge of the bedroom where she could just make out the box. 

“Shoes?” She guessed, eyes following as he turned around and slid gracefully off the bed, picking up the package and bringing it to her. She made an effort to sit up a little as he handed it to her.

Jimin grinned widely, his excitement obvious. “Open it.”

She hesitated before tugging on the ribbon. It came apart easily and she lifted the white lid carefully off the box, lightly fingering through the tissue paper to reveal the present. The shoes matched the ribbon and were just as delicate looking; the satin fabric shimmered in the light. She stared at them, as though transfixed. 

“Do you like them?” 

She looked up at him, head still groggy from her extended nap. Her headache hadn’t yet subsided completely and it took a moment to realise he had asked a question. “Why?” She frowned, not fully understanding what he had asked.

He shrugged easily. “I thought they’d look nice on you.”

She folded the tissue back over the heels, covering them once more before she put on the lid. “Thank you.” She belatedly replied. “I didn’t bring you anything.” 

Jimin took the box from her and gently lowered it to the foot of the bed before joining her when she leaned back against the pillow. “That’s not true…” He shook his head, reaching forward to hold her body against him. He was silent for a few moments, stroking her hip, before he whispered. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.” She replied, equally quiet.

“Were you lonely?” He kept his voice low as he appreciated her features; eyes drifting across her nose and lips and cheeks. 

She nodded. “It was hard.”

Jimin’s heart seemed to sink at her words and he stroked her arm lovingly, moving along her soft, pale skin until he reached her shoulder where the edge of her white camisole shielded the rest from view. “I missed you a lot.” He admitted, moving forward to kiss her forehead. Her skin was warm to the touch and he wondered if she might be getting a fever. He pulled away lightly, observing the way her eyelids seemed too heavy for their sockets. 

“I know.” She mumbled understandably, closing her eyes. 

He gave a soft chuckle, rubbing her shoulder with his fingertips. “You really need some sleep don’t you?”

She nodded against the pillow. “Sleep would be nice.”

He spoke no more, watching her expression as she fell deeper and deeper into sleep, her chest rising and falling gently until it was barely moving at all. Jimin held her carefully, not wanting to leave her side but knowing it was too early for him to join her. Still, he remained, listening to the calming sounds of her gentle breathing along with the steady, lulling tick of the clock above the bed. 

***

Jimin had finally fallen asleep some time after ten and judging by the deep, red grooves which lined his forearms, he must have slept deeply. The blinds had been left open a little and a stark, white early morning light filled the room, indicating he had managed a decent few hours. He wondered if the good night was thanks to Ara’s presence. The past few weeks he had found himself tossing and turning incessantly, having to get up once or twice to grab himself a snack or watch a little T.V while he wondered what she was doing; whether the time zones matched up or if she was just getting up, ready to make her daily appearance on a foreign talk show or driving to some arena for rehearsals. It took him a moment to realise she was not beside him, though an indent remained on the pillow. He looked around the room, noticing a few of the drawers on the far side had been left open; a few of his sweatshirts sticking out from the edge. Slowly, he sat up, blinking a few times as he observed the wardrobe at the foot of the bed was likewise opened wide. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it had been fuller the last time he had checked. A few of her dresses remained, suspended on coat hangers, but there were a good few missing. Quickly, and with a fair amount of panic, he shuffled out of bed, pulling open the bedroom door and walking down the small hallway into the kitchen. 

“Ara?” He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her seated at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea clutched between her hands. She was staring straight ahead, though looked up at the sound of his voice. He only just noticed the dark bags beneath her eyes, now she was bare faced. His eyes flickered towards the sink where her suitcase was tucked, flush against the cupboards. He frowned. “Where are you going?”

Ara looked away, voice empty. “Back on tour.”

He opened his mouth to respond before closing it, his chest sinking heavily at the realisation she wasn’t making any sense. He took a step closer to the table, dread coursing through his veins. She had been tired the night before, unusually so, but had seemed herself at least. He wondered what new medication the doctors had put her on and whether it was somehow messing with her head. “Are you okay?” He slowly asked, bending down to face her.  

She sighed. “Not really.”

His forehead wrinkled heavily. “Have I done something wrong?”

She turned to look at him, their faces at equal heights and now he could see how much older she suddenly looked. When she didn’t reply, he continued, failing to hide his confusion. 

“You just got back. Your contract is over.”

She shook her head solemnly. “No it isn’t.”

His heart sank. “What do you mean?” He whispered. 

“I signed a new one.” 

Her voice was calm and Jimin realised she was telling the truth, though he couldn’t quite process what was happening. “When?” He asked, a little higher than expected. 

“Last week.” She murmured. “When I was in Tokyo.”

He looked her in the eye, forcing himself to meet her gaze despite the unsteadiness he felt in his limbs as he crouched beside her. “For how long?”

“Seven years.”

He shook his head in disbelief, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. There was no emotion in her voice; no sense of joy or excitement that would signal what she was telling him was good news. He found himself reaching for her hand, desperate to hold onto something that would keep him steady. Her fingers were cold against his; thin and delicate in his loose grasp. “I didn’t think that was what you wanted.” He eventually said, only just managing to get the words out. 

She was looking at their hands, eyes fixed on the space where they connected, but she turned away, gazing out of the window at the blank, grey sky. “I don’t know what I want…” She admitted, turning back when he let go of her to stand back up; her eyes followed him and he saw them glisten in the stark light. “It’s easier this way.”

“What about moving house?” He asked, the hurt in his voice obvious. “You’ll hardly be at home.”

She frowned below her blonde bangs. “I’m not sure I want to move house.”

He shook his head, trying to stay calm. “You could have just said.” He shrugged, keeping his voice low. “Instead of signing a new contract.”

She was silent for a moment, taking a few deep breaths while Jimin waited for her to respond. 

“I’m not sure I want to move house…” She spoke slowly, only realising as she said it that it was true. “Because I’m not sure if I want to be with you anymore.” Her own admission shocked her into silence though she felt no sense of relief as Jimin stared at her, silent for a long time before his lip trembled. 

“Are you serious?”

Ara nodded slowly. “I’ve felt like this for a while…” She confessed. “But I couldn’t do it before.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, though his voice came out high-pitched and squeaky. “What have I done?”

The sight of him filled her with sadness and for the first time that morning she felt her emotions with clarity. It took her a moment to work out how to respond and when she did, he looked at her with tears in his eyes. 

“It wouldn’t be fair on you...” She murmured, her own voice breaking. “When I’m not sure how I feel.” 

His eyes darted back to the suitcase, a low whimper escaping his lips. “So you’re leaving me?”

She nodded, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She held back a sob, needing to say it clearly. “I think I have to.” Once the words left her lips, she finally let go. It was like a dam had broken inside her; one which had been in place for so long, and she cried openly, unable to hold it back any longer. Jimin moved forward, wrapping her in his arms as she clung to him, standing up to press herself against his body and hooking her arms around his neck.

“I love you…” He mouthed against her hair and she let out a sob, her tears dampening the crook of his neck as he pleaded with her. “You don’t have to leave.”

She shook her head against him, words thick with tears. “I do…I do!”

“I don’t want you to go.” His voice broke and she held him closer, squeezing his body. 

“Don’t cry Jimin.” She whispered. “Please…”

He held her steady by the waist as he moved away, trying to look at her. “When will you be back?”

She shook her head again, looking away. “I’m not sure.” Her hands moved to her face, trying to cover it from view but he took them gently in his own.

“I can wait for you…” He moved with her as she wriggled in his grasp and held her face steady, thumb brushing her cheekbones, trying to get her to look at him. “I can wait for you!” He repeated, locking eyes with her. Her own were impossibly wide, glistening with tears, but she nodded against his palms. “Don’t give up on us Ara.” He whispered. 

Her mouth quivered, opening and closing. “I need to think about this.” She muttered.

“I don’t care how long it takes.” He caressed her cheekbones again, wiping her tears. They were both trembling and she held him tighter, hands clasping behind his neck. 

“And if I meet someone else?” She asked, voice wobbling at the thought.

He shook his head, continuing to hold her steady. “Do what you feel is right…” His lips moved to her wet cheek and he kissed it lovingly, lingering there while her body shook against him. Slowly, he moved to the corner of her mouth and she tilted her head, pressing her lips to his. Their mouths opened softly, tears merging as they held each other for a few moments, their noses brushing as they kissed. Slowly, they moved away in unison and she ran her lips across his smooth cheek before touching them to his helix, mouthing against his skin.

“Don’t be mad at me.” She pleaded.

“How could I be mad at you?” He murmured against her, slowly pulling away. When she looked at him, he was smiling, though his cheeks glistened with tears; both his and her own. He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re the love of my life Ara.” He admitted. 

Ara nodded dumbly, mouth open, feeling her eyes sting. “There’s never been anyone else…” She agreed, realising she was crying again when she tasted the hot, salty liquid on her tongue, though she didn’t try to hide it this time. 

He let out a long sigh, allowing her a bit of space as he took a step back. “If I call you, will you answer?”

She hesitated, before nodding. “I’ll try.”

He looked up from across the small space, speaking steadily, needing her to understand what he was saying. “I want to know you’re safe.” He held her gaze. “Promise me you’ll talk to someone.”

“I have a meeting every month.” She explained.

“Sooner!” He pleaded, reaching out and taking both her hands in his, the urgency in his voice obvious. “Promise me you’ll see them sooner if you’re feeling blue again.”

Her eyebrows were knitted together but she nodded in agreement. “I will…” She gave his hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Do you have anyone too?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He dismissed, looking at the space where they were still connected; her small, fragile-looking hands knitted through his. “Please get better…” He whispered, squeezing her lightly in response. 

“I’ll try.” She replied quietly, allowing him to let go as she bent down to collect her suitcase from the floor. 

“You can always come home.” His voice came from behind her and she looked back at him. “If it gets too much for you…” He said. “I’ll be here.”

She nodded, understanding and knowing it was true. 

“Where will you go?” He asked gently. 

Ara wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, collecting herself. “To see my dad. I have meetings later this week...about my contract and the tour.”

“Does he know you’re travelling to Ulsan? Is he expecting you?” Jimin asked, wanting to make sure she had a plan. 

She shook her head lightly. “No.” She admitted. “But he’ll want to see me. My brother too…it’s been two years.”

Jimin nodded, gesturing towards the red case. “Let me drive you to the station.” He offered. 

She thought for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

He walked around the edge of the table before she could protest and scooped down to pull up the extendable handle of the case. She followed his lead into the hallway, where he left the luggage on the welcome mat by the front door. The thick rug was pink and decorated with daisies; Ara had chosen it during a trip to a shopping mall shortly before her audition and it had sat there ever since, a reminder of the life she had led before. She glanced at it as Jimin edged past her, into the bedroom at the end of the hall. He came out a moment later, the shoe box he had gifted her tucked under his arm. Ara remained silent, watching as he placed it on top of the suitcase, balanced steadily between his body and the handle, before he opened the front door. 

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

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[duskholland]

Say Goodnight | Harrison Osterfield

Summary ↠ you and Harrison broke up before he left to chase his dreams in Hollywood. With 5,000 miles between you, you’re both struggling to adjust to life without the other; exes to lovers; prompt: “why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

Warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, a breakup, one curse word?

Word Count ↠ 2.7k

A/N ↠ I miss Harrison. A lot. And I haven’t written enough for him, so...here ya go! This is definitely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song goodnight n go, which never fails to hit me in the feels (listen to the version from her live album... it’s magic).

This is also my fic for @t-holland2080​‘s writing challenge! Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Sammy - I hope you enjoy this :)

(a repost because tumblr decided to block me out the tags lmao)

You didn’t think it was possible to cry this much.

Harrison’s standing in front of you, glistening tear tracks running down his rosy cheeks. His eyes shift over your face, guiltily running the lines and curves of your cheeks and your forehead, trying desperately to stay away from your eyes, because you both know that seeing the heartbreak reflected in his icy blue gaze will be too much. Your chest hurts and you’re shaking, but you know that everything he’s said is true. You know that breaking up is for the best.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still love you,” Harrison tells you quietly. He rocks back on his feet, his teeth grazing his lower lip before he adds, “I’ll always love you, Y/N. The timing just…”

“The timing isn’t right,” you finish. With shaky hands, you reach up behind your neck and your fingers fiddle with the clasp of the necklace Harrison had draped around you, all those months ago. He makes a small sound of objection as the chain falls heavily into your hands and you hold it out in front of you. “Keep it,” you urge. You finally let yourself meet his eyes, and you try to stay strong as you grab his hand and push the chain into his palm. “So you don’t forget about me whilst you’re off being a movie star.”

Harrison reluctantly pockets the chain, his eyes lingering on the solid curve of the H. “I could never forget about you, Y/N.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only way Harrison can pursue his dreams is 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic in America. It’s even more unfair that you can’t go with him because you’re enrolled in university in London. But worst of all, neither of you signed up for a long-distance relationship when you first began dating, and now you’ve had to come to the mutual, heartbreaking decision that breaking up is going to be easier than stringing out a virtual relationship together. It doesn’t matter that you love Harrison more than you’ve ever loved another person, nor that he holds you so closely to his heart that he’s certain you’ve somehow intertwined yourself with his soul: long-distance is too much, and you both think you’ll be too busy to maintain your relationship. Neither of you want to sit by and watch your relationship break down.

So breaking up is simpler, supposedly.

“You should go,” you find yourself saying, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your hand rests on your front door knob, the cool brass feeling icy against your warm skin. You use your other hand to sweep beneath your cheeks, trying to stop the endless flow of tears from your eyes. “Don’t want you to miss your flight, Haz.”

He runs his hand through his hair, a grimace spread across his face.

“I- Are you sure this is the right choice?” He asks, echoing the words you’ve both been saying for days.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know,” you admit. “But I know that I can’t stand here waiting for you to walk away any longer.” You release a deep breath. “Just go, Harrison. Please.”

And he looks like he really wants to stay. His feet twitch, as if he’s about to push his way back into your flat and throw himself down on the sofa like he’s done a thousand times before. But his eyes pass over your tearful, heart stricken face, and he finally sighs, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he manages a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says softly, his lips curving around the words with ease. The way he says your name so fondly causes the pain in your chest to crack and expand.

“Bye, Harrison.”

And then he turns, slowly, and you watch as he drags his feet down the corridor. Harrison pauses when he reaches the staircase, one hand on the door as he casts his eyes back towards you. Your mouth twitches into a smile instinctively: the sight of his face, his loose blond curls, and his friendly smile never fails to make you feel warmer - even now, as he walks out of your life, taking a piece of your heart with him.

You raise your hand in a final wave, and then Harrison steels himself and walks through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving you standing alone in your doorway, a lump in your throat and a weight hanging so heavily in your heart that you know you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

[-----]

Life without Harrison is hard.

Before you’d started dating him a year ago, you hadn’t believed love could feel so fulfilling or right. But then you’d stumbled into him at Tom’s birthday party and you’d immediately hit it off, and everything had changed. You think it would be hard not to instantly fall in love with Harrison: he’s charming, witty, and he carries such a bright light in his eyes that he had you hook, line, and sinker within the first ten minutes of your conversation.

As you try to move on, you find Harrison haunting your every move. You open Instagram and you see his posts and stories staring you right in the face, broadcasting his life out in LA with his new friends and castmates, and it stings. When you strike out and find yourself in the pub with Sam, all you can think about is how you used to frequent the place with him, and your eyes find the corner booth you’d used to sit in, your figure usually curled up in Harrison’s lap. You can almost feel the presence of his slender, delicate fingers wrapped around your waist as you gaze longingly at the booth.

And the most frustrating part of it all? Harrison seems fine. He seems completely unbothered, which just serves to twist the knife further into your chest every time your thumb hovers over his contact photo, or you start writing out a lengthy, emotional text. You’ve heard nothing from him, and it makes you question everything you’d thought you’d had together.

Everything changes one Wednesday night, around six weeks after Harrison had left.

You’re woken up by the loud, shrill ringing of your phone. You try to ignore it at first, groaning as you roll over on your side and try to press your head into your pillows, but it just keeps going, and it seems to rattle louder against your skull the longer it prattles on. So, after releasing a stream of your best expletives, you roll over and snatch it off your bedside table, accepting the call before you’ve even had time to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” You croak, clearing your throat immediately as you hear the fatigue hanging heavy in your throat.

“Y/N.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake.

“Harrison?!” You exclaim, sitting bolt upright. You bring your knees to your chest as you pull the duvet around you, trying to hide beneath the warm sheets as if they’ll protect you from the way that hearing his voice unleashes an onslaught of painful emotions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison doesn’t reply for a few moments, but merely the sound of his level, familiar breathing is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to push them away as your heart races in your chest, so many emotions flying through your heart that it feels consuming.

“Uh, nothing,” he eventually says softly. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

The sound of his chuckle is forced, but it’s so lovely to hear him again that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he says, “‘m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I missed your voice.” It slips out before you can really stop it.

“I missed your voice too,” Harrison admits, voice thick. “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply, running your fingers over the crinkles of your duvet as you think. Your mind runs slowly, clouded with your fatigue and your emotions, and you really don’t know how to take this all, but you know that hearing his voice makes you happy - more happy than you’ve felt in weeks.

“I miss you too,” you mumble down the line. Your fingers ache from how tightly you’re gripping the phone. “How’s LA?”

Harrison chuckles, and you hear a noise in the background as if he’s climbing into a bed. You can almost imagine him: his lanky legs spreading out over the sheets, a low groan slipping past his lips as he stretches out his arms and back. That lazy pink smirk hanging freely from his perfect lips. The image burns into your eyelids.

“LA is mad,” he tells you honestly. “It’s a whole different world over here, Y/N. It’s… It’s exciting, but it’s so different to London. I wish it would all slow down.”

“You’re really busy then?”

He hums lightly. “Yeah. I’m either on-set or doing fittings or rehearsals.”

“Are you having fun?”

Harrison takes a while to ponder your question.

“Yes,” he says, bringing a swell of tears to the front of your eyes. “But I’d be so much happier if you were here too.”

You try to disguise your sniffles, but you’re almost certain he can hear them. “Well… I’m not,” you manage. “I’m glad it’s giving you everything you wanted.”

There’s a very awkward, very thick silence that envelops the line, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your sheets.

“I should let you sleep,” Harrison says, guilt lacing his words. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh, okay.” Your free hand clenches into a hard fist as you try to stop your lower lip from wobbling. “Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m always here if you want someone to talk to.” A small smile flicks out across your lips. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I love you - those three unspoken words hang between you. You can feel them, surrounding you, smothering you, and you can almost hear them on the tip of Harrison’s tongue, so you jump in to add, “Goodnight, Harrison,” because you really can’t bear to hear them.

You can feel his reluctance, but you release a deep breath as he says, begrudgingly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hang up quickly, your fingers trembling as you toss the phone down the bed. The blank screen stares at you, taunting you, and you’re overcome with such a strong sense of regret that you almost reach out and call him back. Your body craves him - his soft, melodic voice, his gentle words, his love.

Your phone starts ringing, and you snatch it back up, eyes taking in the image of Harrison’s contact photo as he flashes over the screen. You accept it without a second thought.

���I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” Harrison says immediately, words falling into one another. “I don’t want to stop talking to you, Y/N. Can we please keep talking? Just for a bit.” He pauses, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

The relieved smile on your face shows no sign of budging. “I don’t wanna say goodnight either, Haz.”

[-----]

It’s a bad habit, but for the entire time Harrison is away, you end up on the phone with him each evening. The first few times had been fairly spontaneous, but soon it becomes a habit: every day, as Harrison finishes filming, he gives you a call and you have a long, rambling conversation. It breaks up your sleep, but you grow so used to it that you start setting an alarm at 1.50am just so you can grab a cup of tea and wake yourself up before he calls.

It’s definitely inadvisable to stay so connected to your ex-boyfriend, but it feels too good to quit. Harrison is your drug, and every time you hang up the phone, you’re left feeling sad and hollow inside. But it eases the pain of having him so far away, and maybe a part of you deludes yourself by reasoning that your calls are helping you get over him: cutting him out completely was too hard, but maybe sharing these phone calls will help you. Eventually he’ll stop calling, and you’ll be able to heal, because you’ll have practised saying goodbye so many times it’ll feel normal.

But Harrison doesn’t stop calling, and you don’t stop answering, and soon enough, he’s been away for six months, and he’s preparing to move back to London, his film complete.

You don’t really know where you stand with him, if you’re being completely honest. He’s still your ex - but you’re still helplessly in love with him, and you’re fairly sure that most exes don’t spend hours on the phone each day, chatting and laughing like you’re still together. You try to bring it up with him, but every time you start the conversation, your heart clenches in your chest and you wimp out.

You ignore the difficult conversation for as long as you can - which lasts until you hear a loud knock on your front door, and you know that it’s him.

It feels almost like a gravitational pull, drawing you back to his figure. You’ve spent all day pacing your flat, fussing over your hair and your outfit, but for the entire time you’ve spent waiting on his flight arriving, you haven’t been sure if you’d be able to open the door and face him. But now you know that he’s here, your heart seems to act of your own accord.

You wrench your door open, and immediately you’re pulled into a tight, crushing hug. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you wheeze as you feel that familiar set of curls brushing up against your neck, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes as you take it all in. He’s back.

“Haz,” you exclaim, your voice choked with tears. His hands move over your back, clinging to you, drawing you as close as possible as his rich, earthy cologne invades your system. It doesn’t even matter that his jacket has a collection of chilly raindrops clinging to the leather, because it feels so fucking perfect to have him so near you again that you can’t focus on anything other than him.

“I missed you,” he whimpers, as he pulls away from your neck. His large hands fall on your shoulders as he stares at you intently, his focused eyes whipping the air from your lungs. He looks so cute that you can’t really stop yourself from shifting closer and pressing your lips to his. Immediately you relax, and he does too, and he kisses you back softly. Your mouths are tender at first, pressing together softly - testingly - but as you wrap your hands around his waist and bring him closer, it deepens. Your mind spins with dizzy, overwhelming happiness as you revel in the feeling of Harrison, enjoying him utterly, your heart thrumming happily against your ribs.

“I missed you so much,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him between each word. Your fingers drift into his hair, and you smile as he hums in agreement.

“We are so stupid,” he says, drawing a laugh from your lips. “Can’t believe we ever thought breaking up was for the best.” His mouth shifts up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N. Please, can we get back together?” His words are desperate, but they echo the things you’ve been feeling for months, and hearing them is such a relief that you simply have to kiss him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whisper, moving to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Harrison brings you into a warm hug, and you let him hold you as you breathe him in. “I missed you. I love you.” You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes gleefully. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

Harrison reaches down and pulls a familiar, glinting chain from his pocket. Your gaze softens as you pull away from him and tilt your head, letting him wrap the necklace back around your neck. The H pendant settles gently over your chest, and it feels like coming home.

“Perfect,” he comments, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the necklace, but you’re willing to accept either.

With a warm smile on your face, you move aside and welcome him inside. “D’you want a cup of tea?” You offer.

Harrison steps across the threshold and presses a final, loving kiss to your lips. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

----

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