#and the idea that she’s trying so desperately to communicate with this world that was virtually stolen from her

[ezzakennebba]

I'm soso sorry but may I request winter depression Bella

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[kooyabooya]

BABYLON

m reader x sana // 26k words

Almighty hand to God, there had been much, much worse situations to get yourself stuck in. 

If there’s any sort of consolation to fall back on, you’d wish that you’d say something earlier, call this off with a simple push and shove on the way out the door, close it and wrap up nicely with no worry filling your mind. 

It’s not that easy, though. 

Never was to begin with. 

Not when you have the lights off in your study, the sound of laughs downstairs surrounding the dining table, really fucked how you’ve hidden away from everyone else - also wanting to at the same time because all of them would have the same thread of thoughts running through their head if they saw you at the front of your desk with another body pressed towards you. 

“Don’t get so worked up,” Sana tells you, lips fast across your neck while her singular hand is well deep into the grip of your shaft. You could feel her breath slip through the opening when her lips are back on yours, the taste of her is already addicting the more she leans, a hand in her hair trying to give more, fighting, but losing drastically. 

What you give, Sana takes. That’s usually how it works in most cases like these with her. You can’t stop, you won’t stop. It’s already difficult to break away once she’s lowering your inhibitions without the use of alcohol. 

“Maybe I should deal with you right now instead of later,” you tell her, hiding the smallest hint of worry when your hands find Sana’s hips. She’s proud of the sigh she lets out against your mouth when pulling away before you’re quick to drag her back in. “Let the whole world below know of the things you’re doing to me right now?” 

You won’t stop giving in, because Sana gets you. Just like that. 

“Have them screaming in shock when you bend me over the desk fucking me?” Sana asks, a tempting offer above a whisper at that. It also doesn’t help that she’s giggling at the thought of you doing exactly what she proposes. “Sounds hot,” she says, huskily, “because I know you would.” 

This was never supposed to happen. Hell, this was the last thing you expected to happen. All of the possibilities in repercussions start flowing through your head again because this was definitely not the first time you’ve surrendered yourself to Sana’s advances, nor that you didn't want to. 

She’s like quick sand, pulling you from underneath into the catacombs of temptations that would have Satan himself impressed if he could see you right now. Or how this woman at her fingertips is breaking down every last bit of rational support running through your brain just so that she can draw out the rasps of desperation to get her screaming, shuddering. 

You could lower the flag and raise up the drawbridges - it’s so easy to do. She’s playing all of her cards right, knowing that your hand would never stack up against hers. 

Forget calling a bluff in this house of cards, since the only play you have in your book is to fold. 

–

You see, the events that happened before the wildfire were relatively tame. 

Nothing but wins coming left and right in the avenue of your life. Speaking of avenues, there’s this newly acquired house (all thanks to your surprisingly good credit score) alongside this block that has a new occupant–

“Babe, the place is amazing!” Dahyun exclaims out, arms around your neck once you and her finally make it past the front porch, taking in the high ceilings and matte layout of the new space. All of this wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the countless days and hours of work to achieve this milestone. You’ll be proud of yourself for settling down while others may be working for bigger goals and ambitions. 

(A minor correction: two new occupants.)

The house itself is in a nice area. Not too far from the city, in a pretty well modest community, alongside the hills. Detailing is pretty modern: four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two stories, kitchen was renovated before signing off the lease, ideas for rooms themselves are already drafting from Dahyun’s pinterest board. Knowing that your wife has some good taste, it wasn’t worth deliberating over. You’ve gone through the gauntlet of places in different areas: beachside, close by to your cousins, one was also about a two hour trip away from the city, there’s also this high rise apartment that would’ve been a perfect choice though it never happens. 

There’s some scattered boxes here and there still, but most of the things are already in place from the whole moving process. Aside from all the heavy lifting and not wanting to stain the ring on your finger from the dust and oil when the truck broke down on one of four trips, the beauty of being able to be grounded by the tune of Dahyun’s laughs and witty banter when you’re trying to catalog and take inventory of the things that will be kept and what’s going up for the garage sale you plan to have within the next week or so. 

“I’m just glad that we finally got it over with.” You put her down, eyes overseeing the view past the spacious living room, as well as the boardwalk-esque deck housing the pool right outside. “Absolute hell trying to get the final documents signed, but finally.” 

“I’m so proud of you honey,” Dahyun tells you, hand to your cheek with the most reassuring look that she’s known for giving in your times of crisis. “Had I known that we’d actually get the house after almost signing off on the last place with Jeongyeon–” 

“Our luck was pretty much cut out for us,” you amend, though she’s not thinking of the ‘what could’ve been’ - since the here and now was all that mattered to Dahyun. You wanted this, and she did too. The agreement was not hard to fight over; sights were set, end of discussion. 

“We should give our credit to Jeongyeon for referring us to this place,” Dahyun starts again, trailing off with hands behind her back, chin up when she walks in deeper. Her gaze turns back to you, leaning on the pillar when you’re staring up at the intricate set of lights hanging over the couch. “Didn’t you say this listing was about to be taken down at the last minute?” 

“Almost,” you answer, hugging Dahyun again with your nose in her hair, “Gladly got the call as soon as I found out.” 

Dahyun twists around, arms circling her waist, pulling her closer under your touch. She’s happy, giddy when the tip of your nose is nuzzling hers for a quick second. Cliché, corny even, but you’re in love and she’s in love - something that the new home will be more filled with for years to come. 

“Shouldn’t we empty out the rest of the remaining boxes?” you ask her, hands curling inward on the small of her back, leaning in slowly for the softness of her fingertips across your face, the plushness of her lips on yours. 

This was a brand new start, a turn of the page in the livelihood of things, one act onto the next. 

–

Here’s the thing about new beginnings, most of these aspects are supposed to be taken in a positive light.

Most of the time. 

The subject of change itself is frightening, can make someone anxious at times because of the uncertainty of how things would play from here on out. Naturally, it’s normal for human beings to feel like this - this daunting notion in being uncomfortable because of this collective notion of ‘being stuck in the past’ or ‘to relive the glory days’. Nostalgia is believed to be one of the great unsaid drugs that everyone takes unknowingly without even realizing it. 

Luckily, you’re not facing things alone around these parts of life now. 

Kim ‘the introverted but somewhat still a social butterfly’ Dahyun has this effect on others that makes her extremely likable. Hell, if it weren’t for that characteristic, the ring on her finger wouldn’t have been there in the first place. She just has this quintessential quirk of just being able to click with others like it's nothing, almost as if she’s known someone she’s just met for more than five years. 

It’s an art in itself to admire, a playlist of clips in your mind that you’ll keep replaying over and over whenever the instance occurs. 

You’re willing to be a people person while she does it effortlessly. 

Not even a week after getting settled in, Dahyun was already getting acquainted with the nearby neighbors opposite and adjacent to your place while you’re busy getting the groceries in (since one or two trips are always the priority for the efficiency of less work.) 

If you’re looking at your new house from the street and inwards, the home on your left is owned by Jihyo. She’s lovely, adventurous, mostly in and out of the house on a daily basis. You lean an ear into the conversation while Dahyun’s getting her small garden going that Jihyo was also a pilates coach, the hint taken with the amount of lululemon products she wears and has in her closet in the brief exchanges of hello’s and head nods. In the next house over to the right, there was Chaeyoung’s place. Dahyun tells you over dinner a few nights ago that Chaeyoung is this underground indie artist that’s hardly home because of her tour scheduling and the fact that she’s in London for her Europe leg on the calendar, but was home for a quick break since her brother just came back from the mandatory military service. 

“You know, when I first looked into this cul de sac, I didn’t expect to live next to a considerable amount of celebrities.” you say, tending to the raw set of patties spread across the grill while the backyard of your house was transformed to this small, homey, kickback-style of a housewarming party with nearly everyone invited along the street. “Too early to say I’ve hit the jackpot?” 

“Please,” Jihyo starts, the cup of bourbon in her hand swirling while the smoke is up in the air, “I think you think too highly of this community a lot.” 

“Everyone has something special going on around here, which is nice.” 

“A silent observer,” she murmurs at you, “Dahyun likes that about you, the ability to read people. You could honestly pass that as your hidden talent.” 

“I may not be a people person like her, but if the conversation persists–” 

“He has no problem slotting himself into it like it’s nothing.” Dahyun says over your shoulder, arm snaking your middle while she’s pressing a kiss into the blend of your shirt while you’re flipping burgers on the clock. “The best at it too.” 

Even through the shades of your glasses, you lean over with Dahyun scooching to your left. A white bucket hat is all you see through the lens that’s shielding the top of her head with the monochrome scheme she has with her dress and shirt. Simplicity at its finest with the way she swipes your drink for a quick clink with Jihyo’s before downing it after. 

There’s this mix of food and drinks being dished out, there’s a lot of simple activities spread out across the yard. Some people are in the pool with White Claws on the cupholders of the floaties, another group is playing spikeball that one of them brought over for more variety with the hoop on the outer rim of the boardwalk, the set table for beer pong, and essentially some others that were scribbled off the shopping list. 

You’re weaving in and out of different groups throughout the houseparty - the role of being the host of the party really shows with the amount of times you’ve checked in with everyone in the span of ten to fifteen minutes. It’s all in good graces really, to set a solid first impression while the ambience really sets everyone into a mood. Cooling down once the sunset hits, and all of a sudden the influx of drinks being passed around might be mistaken as a frat party. 

Aside from the inquiries of passing more drinks, you’ve noticed the stigma that’s seeping through the guest’s faces when you’re indulging in conversations, a hierarchy of sorts. And when they see you get cozy in the seat, that’s when the questions occur. 

Mina, the person living in the house on the opposite side of your street asks: so what’s your daytime occupation, if you don’t mind me asking?

Quick on the draw, you answer: Currently working in data science from the comforts of my home. Oh, and I also dabble with a little bit of history to a minor stance. 

“The world doesn’t thank enough people who aren’t willing to move for a charitable cause.” Her tone is nonchalant, almost flat. That simple black dress she’s wearing, the outline of her figure that may look unreal at first glance, the way her leg is folded on top that signifies that she’s all class, a tilt of her head that has you leaning back ever so slightly. “Are you this some sort of- house husband then? Given the way you’ve been tending to us around the party so far?”

“God no,” you answer, hand up in defense while you’re casually leaning for the unattended cup of Lager that was brought in by Jihyo’s fling? Booty call? Friend with some benefit? It wouldn’t matter since he’s athletic enough to have his own chain of gyms as a fine investment. “Call me a clean freak, but I get by with my duties around the new place.”

“What does Dahyun do again?” Lisa, another neighbor just a few houses down chimes in, “You said that she’s–”

“A corporate lawyer,” you say, catching Dahyun in your peripheral view who’s laughing with another guest that seemed to just make their way into the late afternoon. Hand to the back of your head while racking it, “She’s pretty damn good at her job too.” 

You get a collective nod from the two women when you keep your mouth partly open with a tongue nicking the inside of your bottom lip. Logistically, Dahyun was a key counterpart in her firm, the way that she’s her bosses’ right hand when it comes to finishing off deals whether the fact it came down to mergers or closing cases. She’s always one to speak her mind, not willing to play nice or by the book. 

Generally, a lawyer’s job tends to be stressful at times, given the unhealthy hours depending on what lands on her desk first thing when she walks in, early or not. If Dahyun needs some downtime, you’d give it to her - something about it that she coined you to be her sleeping pill. 

(Kinda funny, though.) 

However, there was this whole ordeal of some big litigation incident with one of the firm’s associated parties. Something about the high ranking chairman and close member convicted of fraud and if the press found out about it, the whole door gets blown up and it turns into an absolute shit show. Dahyun’s boss had her spearhead the whole thing and as a big token of appreciation, she managed to get time off. 

The apartment prior was starting to get a little bit cramped, so she brought up the idea of moving while eating out for lunch one afternoon and that was that. 

Explains how the house acquisition was more simple to deal with, considering how you’re good with numbers and finances, but that’s all to know. 

Tech savvy, is what Mina tells you, taking out of it with a margarita in her hand while you raise your cup in acknowledgement, breaking away from the set of couches around the makeshift bonfire pit. Ever the sentry, unintentional but it’s what a good party host does to get to know new faces, right? 

Like the ping pong ball on the table, you’re bouncing around the backyard again, avoiding the splash zone of the pool when you slide across the makeshift bar of different varieties of drinks off to the right of the sliding door, cups riddled both half full and empty that’ll have to be dealt with eventually later, or in the next morning - whichever one happens first. A frame of mind falls into the same habit, picking up the clutter for a bit before you could treat yourself to another choice of booze or wine you’ll fish out of the kitchen once done. 

Nothing would prepare you for the extra set of small hands swooping in the table to keep tight on the slack. 

She seems familiar, not long term familiar, but something that you’ve caught yourself having a double take at for a quick second only to forget a couple seconds later. A quick spike of the heartbeat, that’s also something that you’re very torn on in that moment - running back a necessary subroutine in your memory banks to check that you’re - well, you.

“I take you’re the guy Dahyun was praising about.” she says, her voice cheery with that simple but sly smile of hers that’s stabbing daggers into your heart. “Find it hard to believe that you’re her husband, actually.”

The solo cups slide in smoothly, placing it back in the respective stack while this girl is tending to the crushed water bottles and cans in that small plastic bag she’s putting them in. A small contribution at that, but a helpful gesture that you’ll indirectly accept once the plastic is tied and in the bin. 

“And what are you trying to say?” you start, arm bearing your hand when you stand square across from her. “Was it everything that you hoped to expect?” 

Unbuttoned baseball jersey, those high top sneakers and short shorts giving a slight peek into her figure from the down up. Her tank top also raised enough to show her toned midsection that looks tapered and detailed. Casual, you think, perfect for the summer vibe that you could honestly put a lei over her neck and all of a sudden this party is a fucking luau. 

“Hon!” a voice calls out to you in the distance, approaching you and the girl from the other side of the yard. When that person gets closer, it turns out to be Dahyun who immediately grins at the sight of you looking all curious. “Oh! Good, I’ve managed to get you two both together.” 

“But you didn’t do anything.” 

“Who said that I was the one to start it?” 

“Coming from the person who’s all for taking the credit for herself.” 

“Always the pleaser,” the girl laughs out loud, Dahyun closing in with her fingers intertwining with hers. There’s history to them - not even a second thought to track back, it’s all there right in front of you to see. It also clicks in your head that this girl was also the same one that Dahyun was gleefully excited to see back in your sit-in with Mina and Lisa. 

The exchange of happy glances abruptly stops when Dahyun catches you with an arched brow, looking for answers, and to this she just smiles downward because how could she forget with the formalities, it’s silly. “Babe, I’d like you to meet Minatozaki Sana, one of my closest friends since college.” 

“Sana,” you say, and when the syllables reverberate past the oral cavity and into the air, it rolls off the tongue nicely. “I see, friend of Dahyun’s?” 

“Indeed I am,” she says, extending her hand as a peaceful offering - not even realizing the turmoil that’s running through your head while hiding it effortlessly. The way her hand fits in yours, her whole body looks delicate like she’s handmade with God’s well crafted time; she’s also a few inches taller than Dahyun (by two for the accurate calculation), you’ve got Dahyun to mold into the threads of the mattress and now imagine–

“I was wondering who was getting Dahyun a bit excited at the gate when you came in,” you say as you’re pouring yourself another cup of brandy this time, since the other drinks were relatively tame for your high alcohol tolerance. “Now with a face to the name, I gotta say, you’re pretty likable already.” 

Bottom line, it’s really curious to act this way. Clearly, you’re smiling at the fact that she’s standing there with her arms crossed, you’ve placed your cup down filling the next one, because another wouldn’t hurt. 

So how did you and Dahyun meet, you say - palm flat on the foldable table that sends the drinks sloshing slightly at the change in stable weight. I would assume that the story in itself is an interesting one, I hope? 

Sana and Dahyun have this exchanging look between the two of them, the infatuation of how their minds are interlinked. These two have been through everything, despite the differences in majors and fields of work - the bond that they have is admirable. “What do you know about me that Dahyun has told you?” 

“Whatever that wasn't ordinary already,” you reply. “What also boggles my mind is that–”

“If she told you about the time I almost had to blow my professor to give me a passing grade, she’s dead wrong. It never happened.” That star-stricken grin that has you pouting slightly and rolling your eyes because her answer has you completely way off of left field. 

Not that, you add on but-hmm it can only make you wonder of the kinds of things that happened in that period of youth, before Dahyun came along into your life albeit a simple nudge of the shoulder while passing between working schedules. A part of the script of life that’s rewritten in itself and jesus - it’ll sit in the comfy nook of your brain while it sends your heart and gut flipping in all directions. 

Let that be a new doc or spreadsheet for you to graph out in your mind, because there’s a lot to compute and learn into getting this right. 

–

So it actually turns out that Sana’s the next door neighbor living on the left of your house. She just wasn’t there during the whole moving process before the housewarming party because like Mina, Sana was out and about seeing the world - something about putting some miles in her life trying to cross off one or two things off the bucket list, maybe more. 

There’s only some noticeable details to keep track of in a few: 

* Said somewhere along the lines of having a fear of heights? Lost a bet to her cousin and went skydiving to get over it. 

* Well-spoken, considering that she was in Dahyun’s undergrad cohort before she had a change of heart in her choice of major, leading towards the pipeline of communication studies or working with kids, cute. 

* She’s an only child in the family and very accepting of the fact of having a big house to herself (since Juile, her housemate who was also paying for half of the place but hardly around to live inside and still depositing the rent when it was time). Lonely, one might say out of sympathy but that would be undermining her success till now. 

* Oh, and that story of her blowing her professor to get a passing grade? Hard to believe how it’s true and very similar to a common storyline you’ve surfed incognito on the internet before.

“Look,” and she says this with a whole hearted laugh when you’re behind her and Dahyun walking out of the side gate. “It was only a one time thing, I swear and plus,” you’re having flash of doubt when Dahyun looks over, and you’re terrible at hiding it because it’s in your eyes, a shake of the head in disbelief when Sana’s shoulders slouch, “we were sophomores that hated that fuckass professor so much, I was willing to take the fall.” 

“And you did, but thank god there’s no proof of documentation that recounts such events like those, right? Right?” 

A prompting cough deviates the ongoing conversation, “I assume that everything was handled then?” To this, Sana nods - right hand swearing under oath, smiling earnestly with those eyes of hers, left hand supporting her elbow. She’s distracting with how her tank top peeks out with her chest open slightly. In the court of law, she could never get away with testifying let alone convince the grand jury. “I mean, what would happen if there was something that’s sizable enough to damage your image of being this good-willed human being?” 

“Then everyone would watch the world burn if that were the true, but I’m cautious of my digital footprint, always making sure that my track record is clean.” 

(She’s in the same pedigree as Mina, Lisa, and pretty much everyone that’s occupying the boulevard: poised, casual, stable, know themselves all too well to get what they want - because they always do, it’ll have your head turning from the moment they walk in to when they leave the table. Dahyun gave you the brief rundown about her circle of friends; they’re good people, not wanting to let the finer things of life get to them, stay true to their words, grounded even.)

It’s how the amber light of your garage door shines above that gives Sana this radiating shade of copper in her hair. You’d offer to walk her back to her place if it wasn’t just a few steps away. Better yet, Dahyun would’ve permitted you to do so if you were to ask right now, but it’s fine. The grace period of life works in mysterious ways, funny how this sense of nostalgia comes back when you see two lovely girls play the game of catch-up, hugging after not seeing each other for a couple years. 

Tuning back in to the image: 

“I’m baffled you’ve managed to land a house like this, especially with your money and the amount of back breaking work you do on a daily basis. Twenty trials? You’re a fucking workaholic.” 

The pair of them laugh together, it’s really heartwarming to listen. 

Still, 

“-plus the extended vacation time you just got-” Sana sounds like a kid on the last days of school trying to come up with a multitude of things to waste time while Dahyun just listens to her rambling; eyes curving up with stupid smiles and the head tilts as if the secrets being exchanged are not meant to be spoken of to others, they look good together, wow. Have we checked the calendar if it’s Pride month still?

When they turn toward you, the actions seem unreal to register. Dahyun’s monolids contrast Sana’s double eyelids, the way Sana’s eyes especially look almond like. Her smile is a little smaller compared to Dahyun’s and when they’re just freely cuddling each other without any spite of jealousy beneath it.

They’re leaving you dumbfounded, consider yourself to be humbled. 

Sana breaks the hug first before she lets out an overreaching hand for you to shake. You’ll admit on another given day to Dahyun that Sana’s pretty, the small pull hinting at her smile all the more reason to give a positive outlook for first impressions that will also have you wondering how in the hell isn’t she in a relationship yet. Overkill when she does the line with her eyes while keeping the same smile when mirroring Dahyun’s expression, too. 

“Same number as always?” Dahyun asks, clinging onto her hand like she’s going away for a sizable amount of time. “I got nothing for the next couple of weeks.” 

“I’ll just walk over and ring the doorbell, don’t bother.” Sana’s answer is optimistic, and you’re hoping she’ll stick to her word because you’re willing to break the lines, the yellow tape at the scene, and ignore the lines of ink blacked out for confidentiality assurance. 

You and Dahyun say good night, and she’s just happily bouncing along the sidewalk into her own front yard. 

“She likes you, by the way.” Dahyun tells you, slotting herself right underneath your right arm while you’re squinting to see absolutely nothing in the darkness, not even tuned in to what your wife was telling you. A few sweeps of looks across the street pass and you’re rubbing warmth on her shoulder, only to nudge your head slightly to finally hear. 

“Sana’s…interesting.” you say, blinking, looking down at Dahyun’s gaze before your eyes shoot away scouring for something else to eye at in the short meantime before a light slap to the stomach sends you snorting out of the quick annoyance. “Hey, based on how she acted, I would’ve thought she’d be anything but ordinary.” 

“She’s done some stupid shit, that’s for sure.” Dahyun signs to her own admission, seeing it first hand of the stories that were told an hour ago. “Though, she’s gotten better once I convinced her to see things in a different perspective.” 

“Could’ve passed as a good lawyer if you asked me.” 

“Please tell me that’s satirical.” 

“Wasn’t planning to say, but I guess it just happened.” 

A close of the gate and up the steps into the front door, easy to say that getting yourself settled in for once in your life doesn’t seem to be that bad of an idea. The plans themselves are just getting started, drawing them up on the itinerary sometime later this week will get a number of things going. 

–

Apparently nobody saw this coming, and let this be an error in the calculations because evidently, this whole ‘summer in the hamptons’ type thing was about to be undermined entirely. 

Turns out on the following day, Dahyun gets this business call at around three in the morning, and the phone just keeps vibrating on the nightstand. She eventually lets you off slumbering with the lamp on while she goes to the couch to hear what her boss was egging on about for what you think would be a short call, but it wasn’t. 

What you eventually find out hours later is that Dahyun was called in to help play defense in this big lawsuit that was deemed to be ‘the second coming of the Watergate Scandal’. God, those news anchors and journalists need to do a better job of nailing the creative writing aspect because it was just fucking awful when they’re reporting it at eight in the morning after. Apparently you’re also reading an article online on your desktop about Dahyun’s firm coming under fire for a sizable client that’s been doing murky deals behind their backs that would not only jeopardize one branch of the corporate relationship, but all the potential deals that have yet to be signed. It’s a mess. Though, work shouldn’t even be the thought since Dahyun’s pulling out all of these boxes that were related to this case out all over the dining room table that she has to bring back to her office and whatever was on the menu for the boat party next week that you’re having with close family and friends was about to be canceled. 

And this has happened on many occasions, but if it involved Dahyun or anything related to the law firm she holds dearly to her heart (of course, you’re first, obviously) the support in her endeavor would always be important to protect. 

“I just hoped that they were able to handle this quietly, and without my help.” You’re dipping your head down to spit the last taste of mint from your mouth. Dahyun leans forward on the sink with her ankles crossed, wearing one of your shirts blinking dutifully, quite zoned out while her hand is over your hamstring, tapping it gingerly. 

“Well if that were the case, then they would’ve called you in anyway.” You say, raising an eyebrow with the tinge of mouthwash cycling in and out when you spit again. “So much for having your rewarded vacation time.” 

Dahyun leans back against the mirror when she’s putting her hair up in this messy bun. She looks a little more relaxed compared to the ragged breaths down your ear when your cock was buried inside her, clinging to your neck while that vicious upstroke of your hips sends her absolutely blown out. The look she gives with her pleading eyes when you take the toothbrush out of her mouth, washing it after she leans over to spit out the toothpaste before handing a washcloth for you to wipe yourself with. “You think I shouldn’t go.” 

“Wasn’t really bringing that up for you to consider, but judging how this looks from the outside in, I’d say it’s pretty bad.” 

“You’re really not helping my train of thought here,” she sighs, hands bearing her waist, the crinkles of your shirt on her subtly showing that petite frame, the image itself recorded in your memory banks loads of times - each one just like the first, if not better. 

Sliding over a few inches to where she sits there idly, your hands placed on the outer rim where her knees bend over the marble counter. She doesn’t change her posture when you’re looking her in the eyes trying to get a read on what her next move might be. Still elegant as ever, Dahyun will always put this appearance on even when it's the simple domestic life she’s living. 

Energy levels are still high, and the initial action was to get back to watching this sappy rom-com kdrama that bored Dahyun to the point where she slipped a hand inside your sweatpants just to ‘spice things up a bit’. Once the prompted question of are you still watching appears on the screen after minutes of inactivity, no point in answering it while she’s happily fucking herself over you while you’re sprawled across the satin sheets, gripping into her perfect waist with the sound of her hips with yours bouncing off the new walls. 

When’s the flight? You ask her, hand sliding up her thigh slowly. I could put in a word for your associate to get that done, save the trouble. Inevitably, the jaws of justice will soon swallow her up again when she manages to break free from the shackles of court orders and depositions. 

“First thing at nine,” she answers, fingers tugging at the midpoint of where the seam of your shirt and the waistband of your sweats meet. “Got some things to pack up soon, but I think most of the papers and boxes won’t be a lot for me to carry on the quick plane trip back.” 

“Crazy that they get paid for a short flight from upstate.” 

“In addition to the fact that they’re also on my dad’s payroll.” 

“A plus I might admit.” you muse. 

Dahyun shifts her gaze from right to left, spreading her legs wider when you scoot her hips up to meet yours. The hum of satisfaction that she gives when your eyes flick up to see that rosy shade of pink plastered across her face, eyes waiting, honing on something that she subjects that will be given to her. Precision was one of her key strengths, but when that’s used against her, it’s a completely different story. 

When she tugs a little bit more on your undershirt to lift, she usually does so with this sense of security - like a kind of clinginess that you won’t have any sort of complaint against. You’ve understood it to a degree. Whether you’re dropping by the office of the firm or being dragged into the kitchen after sitting on your chair for hours and hours doing analytics and business calls, moments like these with Dahyun are always something to behold. Considerably, you don’t mind giving into her needs for attention; in fact, you’re willing to do that without even thinking twice. 

“So,” Dahyun prompts with this sultry voice of hers, clueless and innocently - as if she has no idea what she’s doing to you. With her (your) shirt rumpled all over her body, those pretty eyelashes, her creamy thighs, the way that her fingers are grazing the elastic of both your sweats and boxers, you begin to assess the conditions when you’ve nestled yourself in between her knees, some water staining the gray cotton when you finally lean closer. “How are you gonna handle yourself while I’m gone?” 

“I think you’ll lay the severance package,” you say, not giving any faltering sense when she’s ghosting her set of fingertips on the right hand across your chest. “If there’s damages to it, I don’t mind paying up.” 

“Non-compete or NDA,” Dahyun huffs, lifting the outer seam of the shirt past her hips, showing the opening underneath where her pussy is glistening with her slick, awaiting your end of the bargain, this non-verbal agreement where she knows that you’ll always deliver the requests and offers. “Besides, you still owe me.” 

Laughing, you do recall the statement. It’s funny - there’s a trade off throughout the day earlier where you’re awoken to her warm mouth, deepthroating your cock that leaves you with these sharp inhales. The way her jaw slacks of how she sucks, the mix of spit lathering all over your length while she’s bobbing away between your thighs at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Even after Dahyun takes care of the morning wood situation, you pay her back by eating her pussy freely on the kitchen counter as the logical option to keep yourselves occupied while waiting for the oatmeal. There’s no competition between the two of you of who makes the other cum the fastest, the hardest, let alone how many rounds can you do in a day; it really just boils down to this one simple look, a push-pull that sends the neurons firing away automatically - fucking each other ‘just because’ to put it simply. 

This girl on the bathroom sink, slouching, head against the mirror still while your hands finally snake under her shirt, feeling the unbelievable midsection under the breasts when she lowers her eyes, leaning up for the touch of your lips. 

Every kiss, stolen or prolonged, each one always has the flaps in your heart opening. She’s yours. 

Tender at first, but then the heat gets raised up when her arm hooks onto your waist, fighting the slipping tongue that’s breaking away for a slight second in her mouth. Her hands are also grasping for any kind of reach for her to clutch on, no luck for it when she finally takes her fingers into your hair, not wanting to pull away. 

Dahyun does this little whine after the quick inhale of air when you slip a finger or two inside her bare cunt, testing the waters as she bites her lip in anticipation. “Don’t do that now,” she spits. That obscene noise coming out of her instantly after when she bucks her hips forward again, accidentally curling a finger in her warm cunt that makes her look away from your intense gaze. “Darling, please–” 

“Use your words honey,” you whisper against her lips when you’re tugging on her bottom lip, causing her to sit up straight on the counter, slotting her arms around your neck with hands circling her waist. “Can’t really hear what you’re saying if you’re mopping my face up.” 

She’s losing her sense of focus when your fingers continue to bottom out the whole length of them, filling her up and pushing deeper. It also doesn’t help when your thumb presses flat on her clit that sends her mewling at the bend. Her face is against your neck, the steady pace of those staggered breaths against your skin keeps your current operation on the clock, unraveling this line when you’re slipping in and out of her. 

“Baby, baby, baby, please–” her heel locks the back of your thigh in place, hitting a kneecap on the cabinet. She’s reduced to these simple words and responses with the heavy breathing. Her hips are nearly coming off the glassy surface of the sink. The shirt’s lifted up beneath her perky mounds (and that fucking underboob is a national treasure in itself), the seal of your mouth is all over her throat: pulling, kissing, gnawing. You kinda feel bad for the concealer pack she’s gonna be using later for a brief afterthought. 

Although this little contest of edging Dahyun out to cum wasn’t on the cards for tonight. You’re managing this smile when she pulls the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow freely. This look of post-sex yet natural style that she does makes you stare in awe when you pull her hips more out at the edge, the way her elbows are propped up nicely and her legs are spread even wider. Her hand pulls the shirt higher, showing her breasts now, the preferred choice of marks that were left there as a reminder from earlier. You slip out of the sweatpants and boxers, fixed on the brushing of her bare cunt just millimeters away from dipping yourself - a teasing tip, then the first couple inches at the half - and that shudder from her hips catches you off guard. 

“Yes,” Dahyun moans out that matches your sigh in perfect timing. A moment’s hesitation, replaced with the second necessary action to sink yourself into her more, parting her walls nicely, slowly, until you feel all of her wrapped around you. 

She gasps, mewling, spilling out this chain of hitched breaths, “god. honey, your cock–” 

It all slides out for a second. Unreal. Then you slam back into her again. Pacing was always the methodical approach, a line into the protocol when Dahyun is writhing in the drag of your cock fucking deep into her cunt, she’s biting her lip at the fact that she’s shimming her legs more out, wanting to choke herself down the length. My god, you’d love to keep the look she has on her face, lips parted at how badly she just wants you to split her in two, seeing the last hint of her pupils rolling back into her brain when you skate the palms of your hands across her stomach, clutching onto her perky breast when the tempo starts to increase. 

When your hands finally nestle into the curve of her hips, they stay there. They’re already at a good place when your cock finally feels all of her, so wet, so tight. A slight throb along the length when you drag yourself out, that small pocket of air escaping before the vice seals shut again. She’s unbelievably perfect, one label off the list from your head when you’re fixed on the sight of your length disappearing inside her, head tilting forward with every stroke back in. 

“You’re so - mmh,” Dahyun hitches her breath, shuddering, you could feel the rise and fall of her chest when your hand clutches her thigh. A choked out sob leaves her lips, and you’re impressed at the composure of nailing her cunt, the same spot being hit deep, even deeper, to that one area where she’s lost herself before. “Fucking big for me, this cock - feels so good-” 

“Dahyun...” you hiss, shifting your hands down to the soft cushion of her ass, sinking down once again, then another, and then another, sliding her out across the counter before you’re driving her back in, this never-ending piston into the fiery pit of heat, stretching her out, twisting that nimble body of hers into your own creation, coaxing every exhale you catch from her abdomen. “Your pussy is so–” 

What you meant to say was, “your pussy is so fucking tight, god damnit-” You know what, the thought can barely even be formed in your head when you meet Dahyun’s eyes, slowly fluttering shut with her teeth slowly disappearing behind her lip. That, and the feeling of her walls imploding your cock to the remnants of awareness you had left. 

It’s also pretty funny to think how Dahyun was fucking herself freely over you just an hour ago, only for her to be used like this and she knows you simply can’t help yourself. 

“Love, I can’t - shit,” that utterance nearly takes everything ouight of you to say; everything about it is euphoric, the way you have her legs up, bottoming her out. You look at her again, and she has her hand over her mouth, trying to fight that natural clench when your cock fills the heat inside her. “You’re so good for me, spreading yourself open like this. Fuck.” 

This is a case that you’ll take to your grave, knowing all of your wife’s body so well to the point that every kiss, thrust, moan, hell even the appearance when she’s like this for you will be more than enough to last as much as possible. Dahyun knows the switch off too - aside from the fact that she’s cock drunk every single fucking time you fuck her brains out - and she loves this. You see it in her pupils, the desperation to tear all the edges apart, the signal for you to finally wreck her in the way that she wants you to. 

“Don’t stop,” she begs, chest heaving heavily when her legs wrap around your waist, propping herself up for you to take her waist into your chest, letting out these songs of pleas that’s encouraging you to get to that edge first. You could feel her body going limp, the support is almost reflexive while your hips continue to pummel her out. 

“You-” you try to say. Fuck. It goes everything against the directive you’ve put yourself in, the noises of your skin clashing with hers, creating this filthy yet harmonious sound that only gets more and more harder. Dahyun’s breathless moans keep you in check when your motions start to get irregular, inconsistent, keeping yourself busy with your mouth all over her chest. “God, Dahyun–” 

“Do it baby,” she whispers into the cuff of your ear, “Keep fucking my pussy. Pound me like this.” Her hand does this simple action, and it’s lethal. All it took was a simple palm to your cheek, it’s filled with little meaning but carries so much intimacy. Moans and grunts continue to slip out while you search for her eyes, feeling that pull in your waist, grip tightening and loosening as you’re mindlessly thrusting. “You’re getting close for me, aren’t you?” 

“Honey,” and at this point you’ve got it all spun out of control, “You feel so fucking good.” 

“I know, baby.” Dahyun ignores your words of affirmation, smirking. “You know what to do.” 

God. She can kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you all over again. Begging was already done before, you’ve fucked her way past her orgasm on mulitiple occasions - using her as your cumdump; doesn’t matter what time of the day or what you’re doing. The endgame was always this: having you completely fucked out in that velvety smooth pussy of hers - all wet and warm enough for you to live in. 

With your teeth gritting and a final huff of air blowing past your nostrils, you cum inside her, filling her sloppy cunt all the way up. 

Dahyun is sinister, it’s not up for a fair debate. When she coos and hums into your ear canal, you’re battling every urge to just wrap your fingers all over the column of her throat, use the remaining bits of pulse in your member to get her screeching. Alas, you hold yourself back while the ropes of cum are spurting around her walls, her mouth also gaping open when the fourth and fifth pulse out your cock weakly. 

There’s this pause soon after, a collection of breath between the two of you that constructs a reconsideration of your choices. Dahyun has this telepathic connection with your mind that makes the connection instantaneous - you don’t say anything because there’s this one look in her eyes, hanging in the atmosphere bathed with afterglow - and she knows. 

When you do slide out of her swollen cunt, there’s a considerable amount of your cum dripping out of her, slapping the tip along the outside of her folds just to tease her before retreating away entirely. The image of her legs spread out and her back laid across the sink will be saved into your memory for you to look on sometime in the future, or maybe even next week. 

“So,” you mutter, shaking off the small jitters of blood loss to the head when you’re massaging Dahyun’s thighs, “Have I paid off my case in due time?” 

Dahyun chuckles, a single finger raised up from the wreck beneath to get a taste, licking her lips following the fingertip. She wiggles up on her hands to sit on the counter again, hair flipped to one side while she lets the shirt fall down to cover her body, “Hate to say it, but you always do.” 

“That’s good to know.” 

“I’m also saying that you could use my help.” 

“Ha Ha,” 

“What? I’m serious.”

“I’m serious. Well so am I.” Dahyun sarcastically says, slapping your hip that makes your cock jump suddenly. You can see the dashes appear on her face when she lets out this simple smile, the eyes disappearing reflecting the same expression on her lips. She could saunter around the courtroom making a solid case for the defense, but no one would know the fact she’s all liquid putty when you have your hands on her like this. “I appreciate the thoughtful offer, but I think someone’s gotta guard the house while I handle work.” 

“I’m gonna hate you by the end of this.” 

“How bout you flip me over and rail my ass on the sink again?” 

You’re starting to curse that concrete jungle a little more by the end of it. 

–

Okay, to cut to the chase, there might’ve been a slight miscalculation that you had panned out in your head. 

You switch on the TV two days later and Dahyun’s already made her way back to ground zero in the city to handle this case, where it completely spirals into an absolute shitshow. All gloves are off when the story gets released out to the public, scapegoating one of Dahyun’s board members having themselves tangled in an affair with one of the staff. Sure, it could've been an analytical approach to brush off the heat that’s only growing by the second - a shitty attempt you might also think; either way, this trial was crucial for your wife’s firm to win because in the scenario that they lose, all credibility and positive imagery surrounding them will plummet and that equals no more lawyer work for Dahyun. 

She was optimistic at first while on the phone with you, talking about how this case should’ve been a cakewalk to handle, predicting the possible time period of when she should come back home to finally relax with all that hard work paid off temporarily. You’re smiling at the fact that she sounds composed, no hint of stress lying in her tone, riding on that high when you have her bucking into your hips just an hour before her private plane trip to the firm. 

It’s only a matter of time before all of this blows over, you think. Not your fault also when the house feels suddenly empty in the wake of this unexpected catastrophe. 

You’re hearing this definition of a fortnight. As in, Dahyun’s projected time when she could get out of the office and have someone else handle the case on her behalf. A little unusual for her to indulge in the understanding of the term itself, not while you’re making yourself dinner with the chops of onions on the cutting board and the phone being on speaker off to the right side. 

“Two weeks?” you’re asking, the dice of onion cubes being skated off into the pot left to boil while stirring. “That’s a pretty big ask for you to take up with your boss.” 

“Why do you think I’m hitting you with the English lesson?”

“Babe, you’re talking about a term that was used in the freaking 1800s.” you laugh, leaning back on the counter, glass of water in your hand as one of the stupid actions that most people tend to do when talking to their crush. “Would’ve been better if you just said two weeks instead of a fortnight. What do you think I am? Some kid that’s withering their life away over some video game?” 

“There you go again.” She laughs out loud. You can envision the picture of her rolling her eyes at you when you spew out complete nonsense that won’t comprehend in her brain since her lifestyle doesn’t line up with it. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, smirking with a dimple poking out against the touchscreen. “Seriously, when do you think you’re gonna make it back?” 

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon.” she admits, hearing the click of your tongue over the speaker when you’re accepting the fact that her job might potentially be on the line if she were to leave early. “I know we said two weeks, but in this case-” You can hear her stop short when she clears the lump in her throat before continuing, “This trial might drag on for who knows how long? It might be a few days, two weeks, a month? Everything is laid out for us to fail.” 

“And you won’t.” you tell her, reminding the positives going forward. “Maybe it could look bad, but I’m certain that you’ll do a good enough job with what you have to work with. I’m sure of that.” 

That sigh of relief you hear through the phone. Yeah, you’re right. I get it. A little reassurance goes a long way for someone in her field dealing with that kind of work - not that you would relate or somewhat imagine what it would be like to be in Dahyun’s shoes, but aside from all bad things, you know that she’s headstrong to the point where none of this should even faze her in the first place. 

“You know you can’t go back to the old place, dummy.” you laugh, opening the lid of the pot that unleashes a quick cloud of steam rising above the rim. “Where are you planning on staying in the meantime while working?” 

“Minju has a guest room at her place.” Dahyun answers, “I’d figured that I should tell you this, but I think she and her associate are having a little thing together.” 

“And this is news to me, how?” 

“Because I’ve seen him and her get a lot closer than usual.” she adds, “You do remember that we have this policy that’s strict on relationships around the office–” 

“But you and I, along with some other considerable names and high-ranking figures, are the exception. I know. We’ve been over this story a bunch of times already.” 

Dahyun straightens herself up on the couch over the phone, folding her legs inward on the seat, sighing, smiling. “Are you eating dinner this late?” 

“Well, if you consider ten-thirty to be late to have myself a meal, then yeah, you can call that to be a late dinner.” 

“Rude,” she muses. “Can’t your wife have a little bit of curiosity about your day while being alone? Missing me?” 

“I guess, but there’s nothing to report on my end.” 

She hums, and you can picture the pout she’s putting on whenever you give her an open ended answer that could totally be expanded on if you just put the effort into it. Dahyun knows you're lazy to an extent when it’s off work hours, and she doesn’t blame you for that. “Have you been using your hand to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone, baby?” 

“Sweetie,” you chuckle, tongue against the inside part of your bottom lip when you automatically realize what she’s trying to do - what she’s trying to make you do. “No, we’re not doing this.” 

“Aw, why not?” 

“Because I can only do so much to keep myself sane while you’re not here.” 

“Fine,” Dahyun sighs out in defeat, and you turn off the stove to let the signature dish of your mother’s pork stew cool down before you get to eating. “One last thing,” she starts, “Sana wants a favor from you while I’m not there.” 

“Hmm?” you sound off, getting a small taste test of the minimal viscosity of the soup you just cooked. “What does she need help with?” 

“Just some heavy lifting around her place,” Dahyun answers, yawning. “I told her that she could come by the house to get you and help with whatever she needs.” 

“You’re setting me up, aren’t you.” 

A soft giggle could be heard in the background on Dahyun’s end. It probably shouldn’t mean anything, but a suspicion starts formulating in the back of your head. This could mean one of two things: you’re either fucked for the potential summer, or fucked for the potential summer. 

“Help Sana out tomorrow,” Dahyun instructs. “I don’t think anything bad will happen if you’re stuck with her.” 

–

Turns out that Dahyun would be right when you do stand at the steps of Sana’s front door, hand at the hip while the few seconds of silence runs the possible uncertainties through your head. 

A swing of the door inward: “Howdy stranger, have my pizza?” 

You get a good look at her. She’s wearing these thinly rimmed glasses, the middle wire sitting nicely on the bridge of her nose. Her long sleeve hugs her shoulders nicely, tugging at the fabric while her other arm is raised on the door. The shorts are also doing a number on you internally, highlighting the ridiculously long legs that has miles and miles of skin, aside from the fact that they appear to be too short (and also pink, but fuck, man.) Cozy, homebody type of vibe, is what you end off with. 

“Hey.” And this comes off as a half-choke in the fumble of words, “Dahyun said that you needed some help?” 

Sana cocks her head off to the side, brows attracted inwardly, lost for a second before she fully realizes the present dilemma that she’d had happen to forget. “Oh, I did ask for a few things.” 

“Fingers crossed your to-do list isn’t full?” 

She does this subtle nod of her head motioning you to come inside, and you hesitate for a second, peering over past her head of brown hair to see the state of the place and here’s how it looks: everything has a very simplistic aesthetic, blank tones of the furnishings and floorboards complimenting each other the more you and her make your ways around the place. Some boxes are still present here and there, half-open, half-closed, like the items in them haven’t found their rightful place amongst the shelves and cupboards and closets between the rooms. Sana mentions also that her and Julie also have similar tastes, but given the fact that they both haven’t been in the place that often because of their work, it’s pretty disappointing to take away. 

“How long have you had this house?” you ask, picking up a picture frame off one of the tables in the living room that has Sana and this other gorgeous girl leaning her head in with hers, you can’t put a name to her, but curiosity will come later when the time is right. 

“Just like you, not that long actually,” Sana answers, rounding past the corner towards the kitchen when you pick up on the lasting trail of her footsteps to meet her at point B. “Julie and I only managed to settle in about a few weeks ago before she went overseas for some big movie project that she’s a part of. Other than that, it’s just been me here all by myself.” 

“That doesn’t sound fun.” 

“I find it calming to have a big house with multiple rooms without the sense of company.” 

Your eyes trail off in the distance of this closed space. It looks barren, but rich, with the sense of presence from all of the different decorations and paintings all over the walls and tables. You might mistake this as a museum, an unplanned exhibit with your neighbor as the centerpiece of this gallery. 

“So,” you start to say, arms cross when you’re watching Sana on the opposite side of the kitchen island, sipping on a glass of strawberry lemonade, looking back at you with wide eyes, those pouty lips on the rim–

She points to the set of disregarded items off to your left side behind, the same set of boxes you noticed when walking in, “I need to get these things out of there and placed around the house,” and she starts to round the area of the kitchen to get closer to you, “and my garage door needs some fixing since it won’t open for some reason” 

“You really think I’m qualified to help you with the garage?” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Dahyun asked you to help me, so please, make us happy.” 

–

The first meeting with Sana happens quite quickly. It should’ve ended there - a simple favor fulfilled and get on with continuing the daily routines around the house and neighborhood. 

Except it doesn’t happen that way. Not when Sana catches your attention when you’re taking out the trash, watering Dahyun’s little growing garden, when you’re getting your morning and evening runs up the hill and round the block, she always seems to get you caught in her lines of sight. 

You’re not against it however, taking a liking to have a quick chat with Sana about different things that were worth bringing up - it’s the simple camradire that’s developed rapidly after the housewarming party. She’s interested to see you with the garage open, finding a new thing to tinker and fix with the car (although modding a tesla would make some vehicle enthusiasts want to rip out their hair and gouge their fucking eyeballs,) she just makes the minute trip from her house over to yours just to talk. 

Dahyun’s calls circulate every now and then, getting the quick rundown of what’s been happening while she’s knee-deep in trial work down at the firm. You simply smile while tapping on the camera switch icon on facetime to have her look at the group of Sana, Jihyo and her summer flirt, Mina, along with a few others just have a communal game night of Mario Kart down at Sana’s place when everything is settled in. Before that, you were explaining the fascination of this ancient city that you’ve been reading into between business calls and graph inputs during work that may sound like you’re a boring professor talking about history. 

None of that would matter because Sana’s house is like this ancient city that’s riddled with riches and items of materialistic value that would probably convince someone else that their money is being wasted over meaningless items rather than propper investments. You get a few nods of agreement, maybe some fingersnaps because what you’re saying could be plausible with the amount of knowledge you’ve consumed to tell without boring everybody. 

“I could care less if that were the case,” Sana says, leaning closer on the couch while running a hand through her hair, the flowy locks combined with that cropped Prada shirt could have you reeling in an alternate universe, but it doesn’t. 

“Sana,” you call out, Jihyo’s also giggling at the fact before you even say it also, “your walk in closet is literally the devotion of this ‘city of gold’ I’m talking about.” 

“Hey!” and she’s taking this with a light offense, “I only say that it’s true because where else am I supposed to put the dresses?” 

“I suppose they could go somewhere else that doesn’t take up space in the racks?” 

“You’re the one who helped me put them up anyway!” 

“Don’t get all defensive now because I’m talking about it.” 

She cracks this smile while Mina sounds off with a ‘boo’ noise, “You can take your little history tangent up your ass then.” 

To that, you raise an open bottle of White Owl to her face, downing a bit of the drink while she rolls her eyes, narrowing while she purses her lips. She’s lining her fingers across the bottom of her chin, intuitively, studying the movements of your hands and eyes, getting a read of what makes you tick. 

Even after the activities of game night are all wrapped up, you stay behind in Sana’s house, picking up the assortments of empty glasses and bottles, the charcuterie board that’s scavenged through, except the stack of cheese that was apparently stale and too cold to even dig their teeth in. 

“Care for some cereal?” Sana prompts after the final sweep. 

“You’re asking me to have a night breakfast?” 

“You’re making it sound like it’s something to be frowned upon.” 

“Then why the paradoxical proposal?” 

She doesn’t bother answering that with a simple hum while you’re chuckling lowly. There’s already two bowls on the counter, and not long after, she’s holding out two boxes: Frosted Flakes and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. 

“I like the choices.” you tell her, placing yourself on one of the high chairs while Sana slides one of the boxes over with the jug of milk trailing just behind it. You snap a picture of yours and Sana’s bowls to send over to Dahyun and in which she responds in three seconds - you fell for the cereal bait tactic. 

What? I got courted with Frosted Flakes and you know this, they’re great. 

She did the same thing to me back in college, but that’s her ‘ol reliable’. 

Sana swipes your phone from your hand that you try to get back, but she skips a few feet away and starts to text in your place. “What are you texting Dahyun about?” 

“Why does it matter to you?” 

“That’s my phone you’re using.” 

Sana parts her mouth open, humming once, “I’m too lazy to grab mine from the living room.” 

“You’re texting my wife.” you deadpan. 

“She was mine first before you came along.” 

You roll your eyes. Ouch. But you sigh once the defeat settles itself back in over you. All that you’re just left to do is get these soggy, milky grains down before you eventually pack it up for the night. 

“Thanks again for staying back to help,” Sana tells you on the front step of her yard, “worth the treat of cereal as a reward.” 

“Nice to have some company, especially when there’s video games that make me feel like a careless child again.” 

“We’re all a little starved for a little fun, glad I contributed to that reach of youth.” 

And this comes out of nowhere, really, you miss Dahyun around the house and it’s felt like ages since you’ve last seen her. 

Sana has her knuckles against her cheek, the fingers are well refined, she has that glow on her face and that small hint of a dimple that breaks out underneath and well - that same pout you saw last time breaks into this perfect grin of hers that’s filled with uncut happiness, the way her eyes arch into that same eye smile Dahyun has really makes you think twice about your situation. 

It’s embarrassing, but you miss Dahyun while there’s this small crush of Sana growing inside you. Going against your vow might be one thing, but your heart can’t help itself to only tell you over your mind - well shit. Congrats. 

Though, she’s reeling you back in after seeing Hailey’s comet above, calling your name that makes you unsure if you even know your own name. 

“Will you be busy for the rest of the week?” She prompts. 

“You can just come past the gate and ring the doorbell, I’ll always answer.” 

Sana doesn’t say anything more than that, only giving you the usual ‘good night’ message before she sends you off on your way, just a few feet to the side and behind another door. 

–

Some weeks pass. It’s late, and hot. The combination of this nightly hot climate doesn’t serve anyone well. 

You hear a knock at the door that has you scratching your head over the fact on who would be at your front doorstep around this time. All of that gets thrown out the window when you look up past the column of wood to see Sana standing there, bundled up in gray sweats and an oversized sweater that’s draping her frame, two sizes too big, her shoulder noticeable to see. She has nothing else on or with her besides the phone in her hand. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” you announce, squinting at the light towering over you and her in the front patio of the house, letting out a sigh while Sana just wiggles her body side to side, acting all innocent knowing that she knows what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?” 

Sana finds your reactions to be funny. For every question, you give her a simple or calculated answer. A greeting in the morning or afternoon would be short and sweet ending off with ‘let me know if you ever need anything’ before heading back inside with the daily mail or some vacuum or bundle of rags to clean from the garage. Every blurt or sexual comment would send you coughing or spitting out some of your water when Sana’s dropping by to see what you were doing. Most girls other than Dahyun in her position would be automatically disinterested, not your fault for being naturally dry and introverted.  

“Julie crashed at Natty’s place, so I managed to drive myself back home.” Sana replies with a pull of her lips, breaking a sly grin when you return the same nod, prompting her to come inside because it wouldn’t be like you to keep a beautiful girl from around the neighborhood just standing outside your doorstep. 

The hums that come out of Sana’s mouth are refreshing, in addition to the little swing of her head back and forth when she moves past the first lounge area of your house to between the dining table and kitchen where she stops short for a second, looking off to the left, formulating a thought. You had the lights dimmed around the place, but you catch the silhouette of her side profile while a hand is behind her back, like one of those poses that she did for a magazine not too long ago that she shared when you finished up moving the last bits of her boxes. 

“Why come to my place?” you ask, flicking a light switch that brightens the area right outside leading up to the backyard. “Are you that bored around your house that you just walk over to mine?” 

“Not denying that I’m bored,” Sana amends, turning towards you again, “just wanted to give you some company.” 

“Sana, it’s late.” 

“Remind me again,” she pouts, the lift of her eyebrows makes you slightly cringe, “How long has Dahyun been busy with her work and that trial of hers?” 

“Last I heard from her was that she’s almost done closing off the settlements.” 

“Good, and you haven’t been losing your mind over the fact that your wife’s not with you.”

“Can I live normally while Dahyun gets to play the main breadwinner in the relationship?” 

Sana coos after that. She keeps this longing gaze at you while you’re returning the same fix on her. The end point of her nose, the lines of her cheek, that over peeking collarbone when she sweeps her hair from the front to the back with a little flip; you tell her that the downtime you were mainly focused on was trying to get back to sleeping, but the damn heat was the main excuse and to that she laughs, scrunching her face when she can see right through the poorly constructed lie. 

It’s distracting, the small rumbling of this breaking desire - makes you feel uncertain in how you should approach the current dwindling situation.  

Falling off the curve, however, Sana asks you:  “Do you mind if I can take a swim in your pool?” 

–

This should be a page in the history books, ripped away and shrouded in the shadows, never to be disclosed to anyone else that isn’t yourself. 

It’s also completely harmless when you’re mindlessly handing Sana one of your spare towels sitting in the bathroom, smiling sincerely when she accepts the simple item of hospitality with the add on of, if you also need some extra clothes to wear because you dipped your feet in the pool with the overhanging flared sweatpants of yours getting stained, I can lend you a pair while it dries up - pick it up tomorrow or have it dropped off- 

She floats her way down the steps, towel over her shoulder, “I’d take an extra pair of pants to use after I finish, thank you.” 

You nod, letting herself like at home as if her own home wasn’t only less than five seconds away next to yours. The glass sliding door opens up to the balcony when you finally hear the light crash of water being made from the floor below. 

There’s something calming about the light blue glow being illuminated from the pool, looking up at the different stars and constellations with today’s moon being somewhat of a mix between a half moon slowly transitioning into a crescent. Dahyun was also with you in this same position after the first night of moving in, pointing out the basic lines of the Big Dipper and the Alpha Centauri, you showing her Orion’s belt before she made a counterargument that it wasn’t a freaking belt, but it just goes to show that you’re just counting the days down until Dahyun gets back from brining the trial win home. 

Looking down, you just see Sana the singular hint of honey brown sitting on the edge of the pool before slowly dipping in, getting the ends of her hair wet before tying it up in a high bun and happily floating in place, sighing while the refreshing yet, cool temperature of water settle around her body. 

The room of your study looks tempting to set up base camp, not the worst option to consider also as a form to keep yourself occupied while your bubbly neighbor was right outside your backyard swimming in the night. 

(God’s really picking and choosing your battles in any way that he pleases, huh?)

You stay the course, grabbing a quick bottle of Heiniken from the fridge when you’re seeing the sight of Sana’s shoulders and arms breaking the flow of water, her head just above the turquoise surface, the light shining beneath her face to get a good glimpse of her rosy cheeks, those lips tugged at the ends of them in a soft smile, the line of her neck also doing you numbers than the beverage in your hand before you’ve even got a propper sip. 

Sana looks towards the back of the house, you raise the bottle up to let her know that you’re still here, noticing the pile of clothes on one of the lounge chairs, neatly folded with her phone as the cherry on top. 

Here’s where you make mistake #1: The second bottle in your left hand needs a drinker, and you step your way out into the boardwalk of your pool. A missing piece of detail that you completely ignored was how Sana’s pile of clothes was lacking one vital part–

“I find it to be pretty peculiar for my wife’s friend to be skinny dipping in my pool at around this hour.” you inform Sana of the situation, to which she softly laughs at the observation while you’re kneeling at the edge, placing the two bottles off to the side that you’ll get back to later. 

Sana floats her way to the edge of the pool right next to you, arms hanging on the deep end while looking up, “Didn’t think I needed the necessary layers, no?”

“You want to tell me about layers when you’re wearing nothing underneath.” 

“Where’s the fun in having swimsuits and trunks?” she teases, “it’s too much of a hassle for me to go through the exhausting process of changing in your spare bathroom that’s miles away from the pool.”

“There was literally a bathroom for you next to the kitchen that you passed by to get here.“

“Why don’t you join me? The pool’s too big to have one person inside.” 

No. No. Don’t even think about–

“And if I refuse?” you ask quickly, naively. 

Sana leans her head back, and your eyes can’t help in anything besides fucking you up. The waves of the water cleared up, returning to its calm, idle state where you catch the highlighted sallow skin against the light, catching her hips and legs flowing freely. She lets her lower body rise up to the surface, hands still alongside the edge almost as if she’s lounging on the nearby chairs - it also hits you that she’s doing it on purpose, the fact that her bare ass is just out in the open air for you to see–

Right on cue, mistake #2: you sit down nicely, criss-cross like a little kid; and Sana scoots herself to where you’re sitting, closely, dangerously. 

“I’ve got some pull for you to rethink, take my offer into some light consideration.” she muses, and the leaning closer coming from you is seriously not helping. She’s got her hand laying below your knee, and she might as well be right under you with the ground advantage. 

That same lean is also curious; it’s also pretty familiar too - how the natural state of gravity works, Dahyun reeled you in to some similar form a long while ago - forget if or maybe if the fact she looked first or you looked first, it doesn’t matter. One key difference between that event and now was the fact that you realize that you’ve toppled over and into the swimming pool, clothes still on and everything, the brisk feeling of water washing over before you find yourself breathing, ears getting flushed out and replaced with Sana’s sweet laugh to top if all off. 

You swipe your hands through your soaked face, slowly floating to the shallow end while cringing at the present moment that just occurred. The blend on your shirt and sweats mold to your figure, like someone had slapped clay on you. Chlorine is not good for the eyes, obviously, so keep rubbing your eyes and clearing out any sinuses while telling Sana that you’re not inviting her in the next time after this night. 

Sana has this effect on people, so natural and open to the point with others that she’s hugging everyone and doing skinship as she pleases, you’re not far off from the latter, in fact–

“I thought you’d be a little more vocal with the fact I pulled you in,” she tells you, turning away slightly when you splash a hint of water as she approaches you. 

“It’s cold,” you say blankly, slicking your hair back while Sana closes the distance. Sly smile and everything. 

“That’s all you have to say?” she asks, “So dry.” 

“Aside from the fact that you’re swimming naked in my pool, I think there’s more pressing issues for me to take care of.” 

Pressing issues noted, Sana is well within arms reach, except you have another look at her charming face, her body under the water - she’s well defined in all avenues, fair skin that would even rival Dahyun’s for a quick comparison, her hands continue to do their own thing when they’re measuring the shape of your middle, fingertips grazing the soaked shirt and all. 

“I’m sorry” she breathes out, the faintest apology of them all. 

You’ve got your arms around her waist, not a care to fully realize what you’re actually doing; it’s a collapse in real time, her hand to the back of your neck: mistake #3. 

With a simple press of her lips on yours, she grips tightly, the draw of air clouding the intoxicating taste that has you humming a bit, the slide of her fingers down the line of your jaw before going off the rails with replacing the hand with a full on arm, hooking onto your neck while you move up to her upper back. 

But this inferno was unraveling. 

Her legs fill the gap between yours, hands are now on both sides of her face, thumb sliding across that prominent cheek bone that will have you sculpting out the details some other time. She’s kissing you like she wanted this to happen, the desperation, hunger even, like it would be the last thing needed over everything else, and you’d give that to her. It’s all sinking, that box of thoughts that was supposed to stay at the bottom of the ocean, the sealed lock intact and with no key to open, it’s resurfacing like the breaths of air you and Sana share with your faces just centimeters away from each other. 

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she stops to ask. 

A fucking truck of reasoning is what hits you, pulling back even more but your hands are now keeping Sana in place, just right above her ass holding at the hips. “Yes- no-” She pulls you in for another convincing kiss before another could be stolen on her cheek, the same sigh she sounded in your throat a few seconds ago comes around. “I don’t know anymore.” 

“It’s okay to not know.” Sana’s face softens when you can’t even bother to look her in the eyes now, tilting your chin up to support, lightly stroking it. “We probably shouldn’t.” 

She’s right. You’ve got to end this and you have to end it now.

“But what if we did?” You’re left breathing, in disbelief. 

“Would you want to find out?” Sana asks again, unsure but also confident. “There’s this kind of luxury I’m fascinated with discovering the unknown.” 

You’re thinking of these different stories in your head, the different kinds of graphs and tables riddled with numbers trying to come up with a logical case, predicting a scenario where you could forget about all of this, count the days until you won’t be alone again with the right person. Except Sana is dishing out all of these simple motions that have you leaning in for more, yearning. A hand is being slid across the shoulder, her face is suddenly closer with yours when you pull her towards you. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t afraid.” 

“Don’t feel bad,” she tells you, a comforting whisper, wisping in the breeze. “You’ll be able to catch on quickly.” 

(If there was anything that you’ve noticed while starting this new chapter: you’ve learned that the sly smile armed by Minatozaki Sana will have anybody flipping over, ruining lives and starting fires.) 

All common sense gets tossed out of the pool when you kiss her again, a choice that will have its own consequences when the time is right, the floodgates of sin opening harshly while you've just signed your one-way ticket straight to hell.

–

Another thing that you learn from the houses that are oozing with richness up and down the street is that money and sex have powerful selling points. 

This may be subject to change, but when you have an art piece like Sana stolen from the museum of her house (figuratively), all fingers and charges point toward theft, the necessary offenses that follow after don’t really matter as of right now. 

–

It’s not that difficult for you to fall in a place like this: carrying Sana up the steps but only stopping short at the doorway when she’s lapping her tongue into your mouth. She’s still wet in your hands from the pool, and you have the wall play as a part to keep her in place - the fit of your lips breaking apart before they find themselves again. 

“Mmm,” Sana hums into your mouth when you finally let her down, on the balls of her feet while your hands wrap around her waist again, knee lightly nudging the apparent line of your cock with the pads of her fingers soon after, testing it. 

“Hey,” you mumble, pulling away with an audible smack from her lips, tongue licking your mouth while she softly laughs, and again - it’s definitely on purpose when her hand palms your cock more firmly through the soaked sweatpants that has you gasping for a millisecond. “Trying to get on with it faster now, are we?” 

Her hand sets itself on your chest, eyes meeting with hers half-lidded, she knows what she’s doing, she knows that this is wrong, and she most definitely knows that this is on purpose. You tilt your  head more deeper only for her to stop you for not more than two seconds, before easily allowing you to kiss her once again. 

“Who’s leading?” Sana laughs at herself, still stark naked when your hands land at the rise of her hip, massaging the slope of her ass with the droplets of water gliding across your palms. “Wouldn’t be right of me to do all of the hard work, begging at the fact that you’re about to fuck me over in this huge house, get your fingers inside and finally have that perfect dick that Dahyun always talks about.” 

“She told you?”

“Much like every time we catch up. Always.” 

“What do you know so far?” 

Sana sighs when you kiss her again, the lines on her face softening like a flush of anxiety that suddenly went away in a matter of a second. Your hand is quick to travel to the back of her head, pull the elastic of her hair tie that lets her locks flow down while the counterpart is palming her warm, bare cunt, eliciting a slight gasp while you’re smiling into her skin. “She- she told me that you were disappointing the first time y-you guys did it.” 

“Oh?” you mutter, thumb tapping on her clit that makes her whole body stiffen while the pad of your middle finger slowly scoops under her folds, noting how much she’s gotten slick in the short span of time. “The inexperience was the main factor.” 

Another finger pushes inside, feeling the stretch while your ear receives the steady decline of Sana’s breaths, lip being pulled inward by the upper row of her teeth while her chest heaves, the heat becoming too unbearable to handle. She’s not one to let you take the easy route, putting her lips back with yours while you scoop under her luscious ass, walking past the doorway and into the bedroom - a space where Dahyun’s appearance was the common one - now introducing a newcomer that will make her case to stay. 

The landing on the bed isn’t gentle, and Sana slightly sets herself up on one elbow, while you’re tugging the sopped clothes off your body, trying to get a read into this pretty woman’s eyes of the things you want to do to her. You’ll make her cum, flip her into the mattress, have her bouncing on your cock later, get her whimpering while you drink in the sight of her pretty face just blown out, euphoric, the writing’s already on the wall before you even get a chance to draw the pen. 

“You think I’m gonna disappoint you with my performance? Maybe prove that Dahyun’s point still stands?” you ask her, making your space bigger over hers when you’re on top of her, pulling from the hips to get her to meet your thighs. Sana bites her lip in a short excitement, keeping her gaze on yours when her fingers finally wrap around your cock, giving a few experimental pumps while she spreads wider, opening the gates to an avenue that will have you packing your bags to the next house over. “Imagine if–”

“I’ll make you shut up about your worries, now fill my pussy up. With your fingers, your cock, just anything, please.” 

She’s desperate for you, and you have to admit it too, but when that first rush of every single sensation registering in your mind from the very instant you have your cock wrapped around her, sliding inside those lines with the small tug of your hips, pushing more while you could feel nails rip into your skin. 

It’s a new entry of data, the approach of how Sana’s pussy is downright perfect for you. There’s a slight throb, a misfire when the strokes are still hesitant, uncertain exchanges of breaths with the slow blinks between her eyes and yours. Uninviting, but all the more welcoming with her walls, clinging into the deeper ends of her cunt, breaking down the imaginary lines of numbers and rope circling through your head. 

“My, fuck–” and you also choke out something too when she says that, the muted cry she let out while you take a moment to readjust, sliding out before you yank Sana’s hips onto your cock again. “T-this is everything.” 

Like you need the exposition on the term everything. All of your worries wash away when you thrust more ferociously, the internal bomb in your brain ticking away the time every single speck of seconds that passes through burying your cock inside her. You’re nowhere near gentle at this point, the squeeze that has you mirroring Sana’s “hnns” over the claps of your thighs with hers, taking advantage of the arch in her back by hooking your arms underneath while one of her long legs locks around you. 

“So good,” she just groans out, relishing in the feeling of it. “Don’t stop–” 

You’re also not safe from it either, fingers resting alongside her midriff where her hands are placed on top, grasping at the new angle of your hips where it has her wheezing, the fresh spot of heat hitting the base also making your lose your sense of awareness, reduced to nothing but just a desolate being of a husband that’s throwing their marriage away. 

Her creaming cunt only keeps you focused, the pretty sounds and remarks coming out of her mouth has you giving her expressions of confusion, lust, shock, and maybe that longing look of when you see someone at first sight and it just kills you, right then and there. The sheets come undone, a pillow is used as a secondary support underneath her back, a clutch of the tit and she does this simple evil grab of your hips while you’re ruthlessly pounding into her helpless body, utilized as a vice the more you hold your end of the bargain. 

“Sana, you’re–” and again, the mind blanks out of this small blurb of praise before she just giggles for her response, fucking her so throughly that you’re running the different combinations of tempos to get her even more ruined, fucked dumb, maybe even have her begging to be used over your cock like this again soon - the eventuality of that notion will be all too apparent when the sun rises the next morning. 

She just clings to you, keeping your hips in motion while her hands cup around your face once more, pulling inward for that press of lips all over again like the beginning. You feel the wobbling lip, a thumb quick to keep her coaxing while she whimpers in absolute bliss. 

“I want you,” she huffs, and you’re falling through the cracks with every steady stroke of your cock between the opening of her legs, “to make me cum. Make a mess out of me and this pussy.” 

You’re taking shelter between her mounds, not wanting to look up in pension for the cardinal sins committed tonight, lips swiping up and down her neck that has Sana moan out in approval, the clamp of her walls tightening every return back to the bottom, her hands are over your back, tracing lines, fantasizing. She’s a fucking waterfall every thrust you take. 

“I’m- fuck–you’re gonna–gonna make me cum so fucking hard.” you feel the pulse impending, the muffled squeak that she makes in your lips, she’ll be the first to fall. That eruption happens fast, the spasm and tighter grab in her walls around you while she’s crying for now. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this incident, a flashpoint in time that was probably bound to happen, fucking Sana in the walls of your own bedroom this hard– “You’re something else, just like you were meant to have me like this, God.” 

“Keep fucking me like this - god that feels so good, You and your cock it’s-” she huffs, barely smiling. She can see you slipping, at the edge, the litany of moans sounding like a siren out at sea. That mess she requested, you’ll give it to her, bury your cock in the deepest depths where it shouldn’t even be humanly possible, where the molten hot walls are bursting the thickness of your head, grinding out every cell and fiber - it’s possible. “Fuck, that’s so hot when you’re all fucked out for me.” 

“Sana,” you say, and she has your hand over her tongue, licking up the thumb, and you’ll swear that it’ll do damage to you for centuries. 

“Mhm,” she responds nicely, the last bit of the hum coming out as a hitched whimper, “Cum inside me.” 

That’s how she’ll want to do things. If she wants something, she’ll get it. You do the same amount of damage to her like she did to you while she’s begging, whimpering, getting all of the lovely noises of being fucked out to oblivion out of her mouth until she’s leaking - washing you over, from the legs, to the pillows and sheets. Stretching her out perfectly, get her to slur out phrases that she would say normally on occasions not like this, only to come back around and have you fill in between the gaps. 

You slip, she slips, it won’t matter, because you or her will make the catch, that extra push deep, maybe harder. The velvety drag already has you addicted to her, the sight of her body above this hips was just the plus. 

“God, Sana. So fucking wonderful.” you snarl against the line of her cheek, one last final dip that has your cum flooding deep into her warm, velvety cunt. 

The throbs of your cock has Sana mumuring softly, saying something like - yes, yes, keep fucking your cum into me, so that I can feel it - nice and hot, god yes. 

You slide out halfway, and her hips buck from the tender motion while your hands rub her thighs. And you also black out for a second when a few more spurts coat her walls even more, the pullout quick for a fist around the head of your cock, covering her waist in the remaining bits of cum still left inside you - well fucked and sloppy. 

Sana’s eyelids flutter shut, your hand rubbing along the oblique of your hips, that sense of desire finally fading away when you fully realize what had just transpired in the past hour or so. The lights are off in the house with the illuminating glow of the moon breaking through the window, tinnitus ringing in your eardrums and your eyes are fixated on Sana again, cross-eyed on the cum-soaked fingers she has, taking the liberty of sucking on them shamelessly, and the fucking noises she makes has your jaw to the floor. 

“Thank you,” she says, sweetly, innocently, sitting up on the bed with her legs crossed, the trail of cum still apparent on her stomach. “You certainly did not disappoint.” 

You, my friend, are entirely fucked. 

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” you ask her, rubbing your face and shaking your head in disapproval while Sana cleans the rest of herself up with her fingers. “I think we made–”

“Did I not tell you to worry?” Sana’s quick to shut you down, her look cross while you don’t even bother to meet her in the eye. This is supposed to feel wrong, it shouldn’t feel like anything else besides that. She scoots herself over to you with a quick kiss to your cheek, one that you accept openly, but still feel pensive over. 

“We can talk about it later,” she says, sliding herself into the rumpled sheets, patting down the open space next to her. “Would you mind if I stay the night? In your room? And in your bed?” 

“I can’t really turn down that offer,” you laugh, following along with a hand trailing up the side of her figure, giving a meaningful press of lips to the spot of her hair, “I actually like the company now.” 

“Would you also mind if I want it later when I can’t sleep?” 

“I’m seriously gonna hate you for this when we’re done.” 

“But I’m asking nicely.” she says, and hums this sweet tone when you lay next to her, feeling her ass shimmying against your cock underneath. “You’ll say yes,right?”

“Keep up with the needy act, and maybe I’ll have to fuck the want right out of you.” 

Sana rolls herself on top of you, finger tracing the lines of your face again, sketching, the bottom of her lip tugged by a pair of teeth. There’s that sly smile again, mischievous. It’s the reality now, she’s won you over. 

“Consider it a gift for you.” she adds, kissing you again before she goes slack on your chest, the wave of sleep finally setting in. 

–

(This actually comes later when you can’t dream a wink, staring up at the high ceiling: 

It only takes little effort for someone to make a house into a home - and you learn to the best extent possible, Sana slots in that missing piece where Dahyun is supposed to fill - without even fully realizing it. 

Her and Dahyun are two sides of the same coin, both give you this sense of ease and confusion that has you looking off while they’re trying to hide the inevitable laughs. They’re both also moodmakers with the way they look at you with the earnest smile, a reminder of one and the other that you’re not too far behind to follow. 

Every nick of the mouth moving, the glint in their eyes that will break you down from the shackles of rational thoughts while the springs in your bed are supporting the absolute fucking you’re doing over them. 

Maybe this summer will be saved after all.) 

–

When the crack of dawn breaks through the sunrise, you’re trying to recollect what little thoughts you have left of your deteriorating marriage; as in, what’s gonna happen to you when Dahyun finds out you’ve slept with her close friend who just happens to live in the house right next door, aside from other things. This space was now tainted in the heinous acts you’ve committed but the only thing that was filling the front of your mind was the amount of work emails you saw on your phone while waking up. 

“You’re just gonna leave me here in the bed all alone?” Sana asks, your back still turned to her when you mindlessly flick up the switch to your bathroom. 

A simple spin on the ball of your heel, and the image is just majestic to witness. 

This 5’3 brunette that’s all sunshine and rainbows, replaced by a deity that oozes sexiness and uncapped lust, lays on the side of her frame with an elbow propped up to support her head, hair still having that post-fuck frizziness to it, the sheets are covering most of her middle, but that outreaching left leg exposed, folds in, and you catch that slope of her hip, her ass is also not that far behind to look over. 

You already know her body all too well. If you could put someone that’s remotely close to the Greek god of Aphrodite, Sana would come very close to that. 

“Are you really expecting yourself to stay here?” you ask, fishing for your toothbrush before washing it with one hand, the other grabbing the minty toothpaste that was adjacent to it in the cup. “You know that I have work, not to mention working at home too.” 

You watch from the doorway when she sits up, the romp of her sheets falling over in front that shows that pale chest, her firm breasts that lay beneath her fine collarbones, there’s a new set of hickeys - the hickeys, showing your favorite spot to soothe her while she’s wailing in your arms, the rise and fall of her shoulders every breath let out has another wanting bite of her swollen lips. 

“Is it too much to keep you company?” she asks again, tugging on the comforter, hoping that she’ll get the right answer out of you.

“It’s not that I mind about the company of you, it’s the fact that others would get suspicious.” you retort, placing down the brush filled toothpaste on the counter, “That’s the last thing that I want to happen.” 

“How long has Dahyun been at trial with her firm?” 

“At least a couple weeks at this point.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“You need to go home.” 

“But your place is a lot nicer than mine, clean also.” she smiles, looking up little by little when you approach her on the edge of the bed. A hand is outreached with hers, and it’s damning how well it fits with yours, the automatic reflex of brushing your thumb over the highest peak of her middle knuckle. You don’t even flinch at the fact that she’s moved your hand over to her breast, tracing her nipple. It’s not hard to ease into these seductive advances, softly chuckling at the way Sana’s tit has a sort of weight to them - perky, but impossible to resist. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” you ask yourself, a little loudly for Sana to hear too, “I have to get ready.” 

“Breakfast on the table?” 

“Have you freshen up before you do the walk of shame next door.” you whisper, helping her up, swooping under her legs in a bridal carry. The tangle of her hairs on your chest when she leans her head in, laughing, the smell of citrus and lingering sweat. “The comforter was too heavy and hot anyway.” 

Sana just giggles, waving her feet in the air, into the bathroom where her skin glows a little bit lighter. “What’s the point of having that open room next to yours if it’s not used?” 

–

(There’s a lot of questions that don’t get answered. Partly because Sana can’t concentrate while you’re kneeling between her legs in the shower, lapping away at her clit, washing away any slick that’s left out; her fingers are splayed out across the tile, slipping, dripping away from her hips. 

You also shouldn’t be whispering these sweet nothings into her ear either, kissing her as if in another reality, maybe this too, could be a thing. It isn’t fair, it’s not right. She comes off as urgent, hoping to keep your mind off of the responsibilities sitting at your desk for just a little while longer. “Don’t do this to me.” That’s a plea, your mouth hovering over her neck, she has your dress shirt draped over her on the kitchen island with her knees apart again, filling in the space while she’s all porcelain teeth and warm tongue. She tugs on your lips like she wants every last bit of you, and it’s not worth fighting for. Her mouth gets on the cuff of your ear, and she whispers this spell, a curse rather, impending your fate even more: 

“I think you know all of the things that I would do to you.”) 

–

Fucking Sana has its own luxury. 

This living art piece wandering about in your house where no one else knows. She comes to your place, you go to hers, it’s a trade off that’s very easy to do when you’re just a few steps away from each other’s doors. 

We could also talk about benefits. The benefits. She asks for a couple favors - a helping hand to clean the house (yours or hers) as an example - you have some requests of your own, mostly to just have a quick bite of her cooking or pull some aged alcohol that was gifted to you a long while ago, half  the bottle already gone before the end of one night. It usually ends up with you sinking inside of her, caressing her gentle body, kissing the nape of her neck when your hips mesh with hers perfectly. 

It’s a new fun that’s profound in yourself. This super popular model that has every hot contact of companies you could name off the top of your head in her phone, taking a quick hiatus for some ‘me’ time. She’s got a solid income, her closet is full of brands that you take note of to give to Dahyun later down the line, and the sex man, it’s just fucking- well, terrific. 

If having Sana all to yourself was the prime exclusivity in its own right, the girls she invites over make everything much more interesting, just aside from the fact that she comes unannounced most of the time. Oh, and that girl in her picture framed back at her place, Chou Tzuyu, she’s a real sweetheart. You’ll have her tag along with Sana no matter what time of the day it is (or night, because you’ll always be free outside of work when it counts). 

Sana usually stays in your house more compared to hers, and she usually seeks you out first with a longing press of lips on yours. Tender, sweet, before you get into the best part of your regular business day, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and dumping a nice hot load between her thighs while she goes on doing whatever you need her to do around the house to keep herself busy. 

She doesn’t let you have your way that easily. There’s this business call you’re doing, talking about how the numbers don’t really add up for this list of statistic report you were handed an hour prior, trying to fight the gravity of your head leaning forward–

“Sana, your fucking mouth. So good, jesus.” you mutter, cradling her head while she taps your cock on her perfect lips, laving her tongue over before she dips down again, pushing you past the tightness of her throat. 

–of the very person pushing your thighs apart underneath the desk when she primes at the very angle, bobbing her head slowly while maintaining that hypnotic friction of her hand over your shaft. 

You hit the key binded to the mute button on the call, not giving a single ear of the person in the session rambling about well, if we could get an extra day or two with the new inputs for the program, then maybe we the numbers that are put together can line up with the graph - ‘and, let me get this straight–’ 

“Mmph, god.” You’re broken down to just a few simple actions, combing Sana’s hair, guiding her silkly mouth onto your cock, and she doesn’t let up the fucking pace. You’ve got your fingers intertwined with hers on your thigh, not giving a care of how she’s so persistent to get you off like this, choking, drawing back for some air - her pinky and ring finger moving in this motion on the tip that has you shuddering. 

“Such a fucking hard worker,” she says, biting her lip, the glare in her eyes that’s nearly demonic while her tongue slips along the underside and upper part of your cock. “How could you talk so calmly while your dick is in my mouth?” 

“I’ve had practice before,” you answer, slightly smirking at the memory of Dahyun doing the exact same to you long ago, it’s no different.

Keeping it together wasn’t the option anymore, while the rush of Sana’s mouth is drawn back to you, proceeding with the online meeting as planned, discussing the future plans delegated to your coworkers. Too bad that they can’t hear the litany of gurgles and gags happening below your desk, struggling to not use one hand and keep Sana buried under there, watching with that lustful look in your eyes when she knows you’re about to pop, the shake of your leg as the sole hint to what she needs before putting both hands into the mix, all wet while every ounce of focus gets diluted to the ceiling. 

The meeting eventually ends while groaning at Sana’s throat bottoming you out, spilling inside that heat with a weak buck of your hips, shoving everything into her where your balls meet her chin. It just happens, more and more; her mouth is so fucked for you that some of the cum gets on her teeth when you slide out of her. The worst part: you’re still fucking leaking, getting it on her bottom lip, another rope above her eyebrow; the splatter doesn’t even end when she lightly presses a thumb down at the base and you get another drop to her cheek - it still isn’t fair when she wraps her fingers around, lightly stoking while your entire lower half of your body is still twitching once the work is all done. 

Sana can be evil, but she goes back to being a bundle of joy when she plants a kiss to the tip, pushing your chair back and kisses you back on the lips, wiping some remnants of your cum from your lips onto her fingertip while she sucks them cleanly. “Productive call?” 

“Got a few more clients to talk to, but thanks. I needed that.” you sigh, fingers on her chin to assess the proof, nodding Sana off to go ahead and wash up before cooking lunch. 

“You still want the usual meal?” 

–

Sana goes away for a few days, and the place gets hollow again. 

You have the phone in your ear with your manager to talk about potential vacation time (talk about great timing too), and with a press of a button on the TV, you see the headline on the channel broadcast: 

Dahyun and her firm won the trial. Which means that she’s finally coming home.

–

Dahyun’s homecoming is a bit short lived when you wait for her right on the street, her personal chauffeur rolling away while she’s walking to you with a duffel bag, a carry-on luggage, and her briefcase that she sets down before jumping into your arms. She smells soapy, a nice tinge of lavender when you bury your nose into the midpoint of her collar and neck. You tell her that you’re proud, give her the necessary congrats before dishing out the reassurance that you didn’t burn the goddamn place down while she was out saving her own job. 

“You didn’t miss much,” you say, watching Dahyun take a longing bite of the salmon dish you cooked for her, the hum of approval with that smile you’ve missed so much for god knows how many weeks has it been. “Besides the fact that you were saving your career, I kept myself busy with the projects at mine.” 

“Really,” she starts, “I would think that you’d drive yourself insane up until I finally managed to get back. That racing sim setup would literally drive your attention away from me, so I thought that was one of the things to keep you busy.” 

“I didn’t even have the whole thing unboxed yet,” you manage, swiping her glass of water for you to drink out of while she drives the knife into the food for another slice. “If anything, I was just cooped up in my office while keeping the house nice and tidy.” 

“Good to know. Have you been doing stuff with the others while I was gone?” 

“Who do you mean?” 

“I mean. Jihyo, Mina, maybe even Sana.” Dahyun says, and your gaze shifts from stoic to this more pensive one; like the last name makes you remember things that you’re not supposed to. “You did help with Sana right?” 

“I did. I was hoping that she left a handful of messages for you to read when you got off the plane.” 

The doorbell rings, and your wife is quick to answer it with that fast-paced walk of hers. By the time she opens the door, the home is filled with a familiar sound that was echoing through the hallways not that long ago, a week, three weeks even. 

Sana greets Dahyun with a loving embrace much like yours earlier this morning. Their conversation was pretty much filled with the usual ‘when did you get back?”, ‘you have to fill me in on everything that happened at your work!’, and ‘did you give him a hard time with the stuff you asked him to do?’ All of these questions have your head at an angle when you see the pair of them cling onto each other, like lost friends who haven’t seen each other but miraculously reunite at an airport after who knows what time frame you’d put them in. 

(Sana gives you this gaze, one that will have you kicking your heels while she combs down Dahyun’s hair, that sly smile of a girl who knows what they did, what she does to you.) 

You do nothing, just give her the simple wave and smile like nothing ever happened, while your mind plays a whole different tune and movie in the back of your head. 

–

(A small tidbit about montages: these moments in time from here on out to help shape up how stories play going forward. It’s not pretty, playing Sana’s game of chess while the ‘oh, my wife doesn’t know I cheated on her with her best friend who just happens to be our next door neighbor’ runs in your head. 

The blips don’t also fucking help either:

Instance #1: Another house party hosted by you and Dahyun where you bump into Sana in the kitchen, who returns with a playful tap to your crotch and a smack to your ass that has you buckling forward while you hear her laugh fade into the crowd.

Instance #2: Sana comes over for a movie night with Dahyun. While she went to use the bathroom, she uses this as an advantage to straddle over your lap, sucking your face up with her lips like a vacuum in the dark before she hurries back to her original spot on the couch, fixing up her hair and wiping her lips, playfully pointing at the hickey underneath your jaw that has you rolling her eyes by the time Dahyun settles back in the seat.  

And finally, instance #3: The infamous office room incident. Where you had a dinner party with the neighbors again to celebrate your promotional achievement of heading this massive project that would benefit into making electric cars more affordable for the common money maker. Everyone is having fun with the drinks and partying aspect of it while Sana is on her knees, again, in the dark, deepthroating your cock with the door open for anyone to notice. All urges are off the table when you and her stow yourselves away into the guest room (with the meticulously placed soundproof foam pads all over the walls) when you have Sana’s light body bouncing over your cock, hammering down her hot cunt for a few minutes while she bites her own finger when you switch up the tempo to be more slow, loving, a deliberate way where she can really feel every throb inside her. She has a hand to the small of your back, you’re covering her moans with your palm, making her cum over and over until she’s walking to her house with a stutter in her step. 

More incidents did occur, but there’s got to be a sense of craziness if we’re thinking of going through all of them.) 

–

“I’d say that things are pretty normal now,” you say, arm around Dahyun’s back with fingertips just grazing the top of her ass, legs over your lap while taking shade on the couch in the backyard patio, hanging out with a quartet of drinks on the table, two for you, and the other two for Sana and Tzuyu. 

They’re here on another hot Thursday, not wanting to risk a brownout with the a/c running for more than the viable six to eight hours that you’d normally have while working, taking a dip in the pool for a bit. Two pretty girls in clad bikinis: Sana in a revealing two piece that barely covers her nipples and pussy, Tzuyu in a striking singular bathing suit that shows those luscious thighs almost having you drool when she gets out of the water. 

“This was so much better than just walking around in our underwear around the house.” Tzuyu says, laughing, grabbing her bottle of this brand you pulled from the fridge when she takes a nice swig. You remember the faint memory of waking up one morning with Tzuyu and Sana, both of them taking turns fucking you in different parts around the house. Tzuyu on the couch in the living room and Sana again on your office chair, hopping along your cock while you’re typing in a report on the desktop. 

Sana’s laugh fills the atmosphere when she talks about pushing Dahyun into the pool, her look unamused when you stare at her in bewilderment while she sees Dahyun slap your shoulder, motioning you to take on the defensive. “You really have nothing else better to do than to spend your time with us.” 

“You and Dahyun are good company.” Sana says, dismissively, hand on Tzuyu’s thigh to also include her in the conversation. 

Dahyun shifts her legs off of your lap, pulling them in towards her while you sit up, leaning forward for the empty bottles before you’re stopped by Sana and Tzuyu, who both offered to get another round of drinks back inside while you relax. The pair of them both walk away, arm in arm, two beautiful girls with both bearing breathtaking asses, all within line of your eyesight. 

“You don’t think I know,” Dahyun says, snapping your gaze immediately back to her. 

“Know what?” you say, crossing your arm over while she leans in closer to you, making a face that looks very serious, but not threatening. A lick of your inner lip sends you uneasy while Dahyun’s eyes stare deeply into your soul. That deepening pit of anxiety inside your stomach has you second guessing on whether or not being honest and transparent with your wife should be the best route to go knowing what you did. What you’ve done. 

“Nothing,” she answers after, “Wanted to test something out of you.” Dahyun then leans her head into your collarbone while you stare out into the blue horizon hearing the sounds of Sana and Tzuyu come back with another bundle of bottles waiting to be downed. 

–

This happens entirely on a whim, and when you’re not even a part of the picture. 

Sana answers the door to her house, eyes shooting up when Dahyun’s at the top step, smiling with a bag from the bakery and a full bottle of sparkling cider. 

It’s the usual game of the catch-up conversation, Dahyun talks about her draining work from the trial, plus her extended vacation time handed by her boss. Sana talks about the upcoming collabs that she’s been appointed to, a plane waiting with an open door for her on the taxiway by the end of the month. 

Exchanging laughs, quick memories of their past hangouts. The high-school reunion type vibe has this sense of nostalgic feeling between the two of them, but Dahyun drops the act completely out of nowhere to talk about more pressing matters. 

“How long?” she asks Sana, placing her glass neatly on the counter across from her. 

“What are you talking about?” Sana says, swallowing down a lump of bread down her throat, worrying. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“I know you’ve been getting cozy with him,” Dahyun says flatly, “I just want you to tell me if that’s true or not.” 

“About?” 

“Getting his dick all up inside of you like you wanted.” 

“I thought you were okay with it?” 

“I never said anything remotely close to that.” Dahyun sighs, grabbing the half-full bottle of cider before downing it straight from the opening, placing it down right after while Sana taps her finger on the counter. “Besides, he’s probably worried that our marriage is ruined.” 

“Doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Sana, what are you implying?” 

“What I’m implying,” Sana prompts sweetly, stepping towards Dahyun around the counter, snaking a hand down her waist where it’s open in the crop-top, kissing her by surprise. Dahyun’s mouth opens wider, fingers curling around the nape of Sana’s neck, like an old memory locked away coming to light again. “Is that we show your lovely man that shouldn’t be the case between us.” 

She dips her face into Dahyun’s again, the kiss more intoxicating than the first initial contact. It’s how Dahyun melts down from Sana, the way her spine curves backwards, Sana’s hands there at the perfect time to support her, both of them are panting into it, how open they were about their feelings for each other before you waltzed in to have Dahyun all to yourself. 

“I hate how I like you and him both.” Dahyun gasps when Sana plants her lips across her neck, her hands grasping her waist and ass that gets this hum of approval from Sana on her skin. “Maybe we could find a probable compromise to solve this little problem?” 

“Is it the same compromise I’m thinking of seeing his pretty eyes when we cum all over his cock?” Sana asks with a wink while Dahyun just giggles into her chest. 

“I love it when you and I are on the same page.” 

–

A sigh leaves your lips when you hear how the metal grinds inside the lock of your doorknob, pushing the front door open to see the surprise of an article of clothing, sitting at your feet, tilting your head to the side when you pick it up to see that it was a cropped shirt. The soft sound of the humidifier fills the eerie silence when your eyes notice another piece of clothing a few inches away from the shirt, connecting the dots in your mind realizing the trail of clothes up the stairs. 

Once up the steps, the pieces start to get larger: first a shirt, then some stockings, the door leading into your bedroom was ajar, the knob hanging with two pairs of panties. The hinges on your door squeak but so quietly, and your ears are greeted with a familiar laugh, not just one, but two. 

Without producing any more noise to make your presence known, your eye captures the sight of Sana on your bed, dipping her head lower to a girl laying underneath, caressing her face while the other girl giggles, returning the kiss openly. It’s pretty peculiar, when you also realize that both of them are naked on your mattress, it’s also really fucking peculiar when you connect the dots that the girl laying underneath Sana is Dahyun of all people. 

“I suppose that Sana’s little secret was finally let out by her.” you finally say, leaning on the door frame with the smooth wood wide open. And when the both look up at you, Sana looking up and forward, Dahyun looking from under while laying still, fuck, it’s sending signals to your brain at the image of them on top of each other like this, a mesh of skin on skin, their pretty faces stacked on their chins - you could sketch it on an easel, because that’s a literal art piece in real time. 

Your mind doesn’t even register the few seconds after, when both Dahyun and Sana make way towards you, the movement of their bodies in perfect sync, hypnotized at the way you watch how they stand on their tiptoes - ghosting their hands all over your chest and hips while your hands tend to their asses, palm at the defined fit of them, softly laughing. 

“We had,” Sana and Dahyun both say each word in different pauses, something straight out of a horror movie at the way they ad lib each other’s utterances. “An idea,” Sana adds. “That you’d hope you’ll like.” Dahyun finishes. “Would you like to see what we were discussing?” 

(God picked your battles, and maybe you could let him off the hook just this once.) 

“Impress me,” you simply say, while Sana pulls your head into hers when she kisses you in front of Dahyun. 

–

So Sana and Dahyun return to the positions where you first found them.

The only difference being, Dahyun hanging her head off the bed upside down, dragging her tongue across the seam of your balls while Sana’s tongue slips inside your mouth, her slender fingers giving these languid strokes to your cock while the pair of them just hum in content, getting you ready when all of the gears are primed to click. 

The contrast between the two of them, Sana being gentle with her lips while Dahyun is the complete opposite with hers, aggressive with the way her tongue swipes across the underside of your cock, her hands wrapped around your thighs to get more of those lavish licks at the base that has you counting stars behind your eyelids early. 

“How are you rock fucking hard?” Sana husks, brushing her lips against yours while Dahyun leaves a path of pecks to your inner thigh before she rolls her body over, looking up with her doe eyes while Sana lets herself fall right next to her, flipping her hair back while the sheets crinkle at the elbows, reflecting the same look before flashing her eyes back at Dahyun. “Makes me wonder who you’re gonna finish inside of at the end of this.” 

“Didn’t know that this was a competition,” you say, mind zoning out when Sana draws her tongue up your underside now in a quick lick, Dahyun smiling on the opposite end doing the same exact thing, that will most definitely bite back your words. 

It’s only right that Dahyun gets to be the first to push your head into her mouth, inhaling a bit while her tongue smoothes out across the area, delicately brushing along the length that sends the synapses in your spine on an electrical current. Sana just looks in awe at how much your wife is taking you, twisting a hand in play while she plants a wet kiss to her temple. 

You could get lost in the finesse of how Dahyun’s small hands skate up your length, the cushion of her mouth already enough to have your tongue between your teeth, but Sana didn’t come her to just watch, tapping lightly on her shoulder and sliding you out of one heat into the next, and the expectation you had for Sana blowing you always gets thrown out the window. 

“Fucking whore she is,” Dahyun rasps when Sana lowers her lips more down your cock, rolling along with the lightest graze of her teeth along the top, a twitch of your legs with a billowing puff of your cheeks to let them know that what they’re doing is working. How many times has he let you blow him under the desk? You hear Dahyun ask Sana, pulling some stray strands of hair from her side when she clasps her lips at the base, keeping you there in the sweltering heat. 

“Oh Dahyun,” Sana reprimands, “You have no idea how much I’ve made him cum while you were away.” 

A hand is thrown into the mix, behind both of their heads when they meet the glints in their eyes, uniformly taking your cockhead from the side, slowly sliding down at the suction, how they both fluidly slide you in their mouths in alternating fashion. Sana popping with her mouth, Dahyun swiping along the slit the next second. 

“Christ girls,” and you could hear the giggles of satisfaction to your amazement when they both have a hand along the length, stroking slowly to the point you can’t even look them in the eye. “You had this planned for a while now, haven’t you?” 

“I was against Sana’s crazy idea,” Dahyun purrs, face flushed when you notice that Sana’s hand is at her rear, fingers dipping into her cunt that’s already slicked up, waiting to be stretched, “but then she convinced me otherwise after some- propper persuasion.” 

“Tell me,” Sana chimes in, that innocent pout with her pursed lips doing absolutely no justice to how she looks right now, “Who do you think is the bigger slut between the two of us, me? Or Dahyunie?” 

Dahyun guwaffs when she leans into your palm, slapping your cock along her lips while you thumb the soft skin on her temple, swiping the underside of your head makes you grit your teeth at the amount of teasing they’re both doing. “Maybe he should fuck our faces to see,” she suggests, “Who could choke the hardest over this fucking cock.” 

(With a pair of wide open eyes, you could only mouth the word, “fuck.”) 

“You’d like that anyway, won’t you daddy?” 

The obedience settles in when both of these girls let their hands rest on the edge of the bed, finger and thumb wrapped around your cock when you tell both of them to hang their mouths open, rubbing your tip around the rim of Sana’s lips when she opens wider, wider until her jaw fully slacks at the whole length, and you love how she’s a pro at this. 

You take your deserved pleasure of how each of these girls' mouths feel around you. Sana’s lips being so unbearably perfect with those pretty lips of hers, sliding out and have Dahyun practically inhale your cock next, her eyes blinking up over the tight seal she has over you. “Jesus, baby–” 

Sana helps play the guide fucking your cock more into Dahyun’s mouth, the subtle flick she has sliding around with every move and thrust flushing into her throat. Her small lips were already ahead of the curve mirroring Sana’s movements a few minutes ago, the pressure sending waves from your hips up, lightly clutching her hair to keep the ache building. 

“Taking your baby so well, huh?” Sana growls over the sound of Dahyun desperately slipping her head down your length. “You like how she’s deepthroating you after not having your cock for a whole month?” 

“Feels so fucking good,” you answer, spreading your legs apart to keep Dahyun’s mouth on your cock warm, moaning so loud when Sana’s other hand works your balls, fingernails scratching along the ridges of skin while she fingers her, the moans sending vibrations along your shaft nearly breaking you. “Keep- gonna cum on this pretty fucking face.” 

Borderline filthy, almost off the fucking rails. Sana doesn’t like to play fair when she pulls Dahyun off of your cock, the drag of her tongue stripped off with a line spit connecting to her lips that’s soon catered to Sana’s mouth kissing Dahyun again, and the sight in itself is a blessing that you’ll never take for granted, how their faces tilt every second they meet, the smile breaking at the corner where you could notice them, delicately letting their fingers explore their faces, hooking into their hair and necks, the rise and fall of their shoulder every breath taken. 

Sana’s head spins out of control when she’s pushed onto the pillows of the bed, propping on her elbows while Dahyun spreads her knees apart more, kissing up the line of her inner thigh. “Dahyun,” she rasps, head reeling back when she’s getting close to the center, “I’ve been dreaming of this to happen for so long: you eating me out while your husband is oh- looks like he’s already ahead of the–” 

You don’t pay attention to their short exchange of words, relishing in the taste of Dahyun’s pussy, licking past the slit when you grip her asscheeks a little more tighter, a slip of the tongue over her clit, lapping up in the ways that you know your wife likes. 

Like the trail of clothes to the bedroom, your vibrations transfer up to Dahyun’s mouth and into Sana’s cunt; it’s a connecting line of fucking when you slide your tongue deeper, where the heat is the most hot, hooking your arms over Dahyun’s thigh’s while Sana grips her head, whimpering the moans where she’s left struggling for air. 

“Look at us, Dahyun, shit, he’s eating away at you, you’re eating away at me, this is so fucking good.” 

Sana’s the first to sputter, the amount of hums in approval, cracking under the faults. You and Dahyun are on the same page when you’re slipping two fingers in - then three; Dahyun catches on while getting fucked over, adding her four fingers into Sana’s stretching pussy. She’s gonna lose it. 

That whine she makes, when she’s over the edge, it’s the missing symphony in your ears. 

“Yes, I’m cum– gonna fucking cum,” she cries out, Dahyun leans all the way in, back arched in a way that would rival a gymnast. The way your fingers are clutching at her snowy skin, enough to easily scratch and draw bruises, she’s quivering when you’ve also made her reach the peak like Sana: these meaningless sounds, air getting more static through their tracheas. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Dahyun whines out matching Sana’s volume, hips tensing while your mouth is pressing against the pucker of her ass, tongue and finger tag teaming while she fucks Sana through her sensitive pussy, past the first hurdle of cumming and skating a pair of fingertips over her clit, making Sana lock her knees while the circles on her nub continue, speaking complete nonsense and in mewls. 

“I’ll fuck you now, just like you wanted.” you spit, pulling yourself closer to Dahyun by the hips, her whole body relaxing when you have the head of your cock, skimming the folds of her pussy while Sana cradles her head on her boobs, leaving languid kisses while Sana puts her legs up underneath. 

“Need it–” Dahyun pants, only to be shut up by Sana kissing her again to keep her dazed. 

“What do you need, honey?” you ask, leaning forward to kiss the line of her back, hand massaging her waist before you retract your hand up the dunes of her hip, onto the divot of her hip while impulsively smacking your wife’s ass that makes her yelp at how hard you hit it. 

“Your cock- need your cock inside me-” She can barely answer while she’s drunk at the teasing of your cock along her pussy while Sana’s lips work her neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Well, he’s gonna have his work cut out for you isn’t he?” Sana asks, massaging Dahyun’s waist while the top of your thigh meets Sana’s ass, licking your finger to make her squeal when you rub it on her clit, and you get several. “Fucking our brains till we’re drained.” she tells you, watching as you stroke the length of your cock. How long could you hold out? How much can you handle? You’ll be good for us, let you easy- until you’re cumming a whole fucking mess. 

Sana means business, Dahyun is already putty just waiting to be put back into a tube and spilled over on the bed. “You two will be good girls for me, and I’ll fuck you guys right.” 

You mean what you say, it’s in existence. And when you push your head into Dahyun’s perfect pussy, the opening rips out a tone within her that you’ll always remember - sucking in an air at the clamp, taking you all the way. Sana smiles at the wince Dahyun makes, holding her face when you pull back, slowly thrusting halfway, the tightness leaving you speechless. 

That very moment where you’re sinking - where you don’t even have to say anything. (Because Dahyun was just made to take your cock that doesn’t feel undeserving at all.) Her ass is spread out, cunt gripping the whole fucking length while she buries her head into Sana’s neck. You could also hear a hush come from Sana’s lips while you’re still fixated on your cock disappearing inside of Dahyun. 

“Just-” Dahyun sputters, the octave in her voice going up pitch by pitch, fucking her soaking hole while you’re pushing everything to the possible ability you can, where you can feel the clench around your head, sobbing, hands over the dough of her ass, getting her cock drunk until you senselessly empty yourself inside her. 

“Harder,” Sana chides, tongue on the neck while she’s the supporting beam of the shaking girl laying on top of her. “I want her to be broken in two.” 

So you keep pounding, this familiar angle with your hips to where Dahyun has died before, shrieking while she feels like she’s floating in her head. When you see her head move over to the side, her profile in view, you’re blown away by the fade of her blush, Sana’s hand underneath to her chin, her back arched to the highest point she could possibly have it in, pistoning yourself in like it wasn’t the daily routine as it is, not ever realizing that it would never stop being like this. 

When her moans reach the apex, you could see Dahyun mouthing something, a wobbling lip hindering for her to even say the words properly - Baby, I’m gonna fucking– cum so hard on your- 

One final push in, and her entire lower half shakes, a dam finally cracking under the pressure. 

Sana’s just there to admire the artwork of her face, while reassuring that everything will be taken care of once all of this is done, a kiss to the lips while your cock continues to slowly plunge deep, cumming on your hips, the warmth too comfy to even leave. This would be great, one more sense of presence in the bed that will be a mainstay from now on. 

“Look at you doing so well for him,” Sana says, and she’s still laughing, drunk on the sounds of Dahyun while her half-lidded eyes are telling a different tale. “You’ve missed his big fucking cock, fitting so perfectly inside you, hmm? Look at how much you creamed all over him, ugh, filthy.” 

Dahyun just shudders while you’re massaging her inner thigh, pulling the head of your cock out of her fucked pussy, slapping the head agasint the sensitive clit, and you chuckle lightly at the small twitches she makes every hit that she feels; once, twice, thrice, and even the fourth. 

“Was that enough to satisfy you?” you ask, learning over to get your face in between the two pretty girls, getting a whiff of your wife’s hair while Sana’s quick to plant her lips on the cuff of your ear, bold, trying to hide how badly she wants the next go at you railing her. “Could you take more tries before your cunt gets my load all up inside of you?” 

“She’s not gonna answer that for you right away.” Sana sliding herself down, her fingers fluttering around your shaft. She does these circular motions alongside the skin that had your head sideways the other day back on the couch, realizing how sterile you were at being delicately handled, she’ll play that to her advantage, and she always finds something new. 

“Now that you had your fill with her,” she continues on with this while showering Dahyun with peppered kisses across her breasts. “Don’t you think I should have a go? Make you throb to the point where I get to feel the teeny bits of precum before you burst?” 

“Sana, that’s not nice.” you tell her, lightly tapping Dahyun’s waist, leaning over to the nook of her neck to whisper something. Have her something to do while keeping Sana’s mouth occupied, because I hate how she doesn’t shut up about things like these. And Dahyun follows along, still coming down on her high, shimmying her way up on her knees and when she finally hovers over Sana’s face, you see the quick peek of her tongue tip in preparation while your fingers are working fast around Sana’s thighs, pulling her towards you and priming Dahyun for the perfect angle. 

“Should we shut this little slut up, honey?’ Dahyun asks, biting her lip at you while you slapping your cock along Sana’s folds, to an amount enough for her to hide the growl coming out of her mouth. “I think she’s a little too antsy for the both of us.” 

“Ladies first,” you smirk, providing the common courtesy, dipping your cockhead in before backing out, catching the small ‘fuck’ being let out by Sana. Dahyun takes the quick moment of weakness as an opportunity to finally sit on her face, her hand also quick to rub her clit while the woman’s open mouth on her pussy starts to tear away at the threads, and you know Sana well enough to describe the feelings. 

It’s listed as this: tight, so fucking tight to the point that it should be considered to a world class delicacy that’s not meant to be enjoyed leisurely. 

That sharp draw of air through the thin lines of your teeth, finding that leverage into her cunt, easing into her, trying not to get ahead of yourself when she’s finally flush with your hips. You could hear the hum of satisfaction through Dahyun, her hand gripping Sana’s hairs between her legs, lightly grinding her cunt over her wet, hot mouth. 

“Right there, yeah, there we go.” How your cock stretches alongside the walls, spreading her apart. It’s always a real show to keep both eyes open on, no quarter of the inch left behind. Sana would be this tornado that swoops in places, taking people off their feet. In trade for that, she offers a grace with her person - a vibe that comes off as rich, tied to materialism, to be used as a personal fucktoy when the time is right, and that instance of ‘time’ happens to be legitimately, every time. 

You could take days to figure out how you managed to get in this position. It’ll only take you hours, minutes; hell, maybe even less than a few milliseconds to wrap your head around the fact of how full you make Sana with your cock, providing the same structure of strokes, slowly building up pace like with Dahyun a few minutes ago. 

“How’s he feeling, Sana? Does he fill you up well like he said that he would?” Dahyun finally says, hair curtaining the right side of her face while Sana’s eyes can only look up while her mouth works her pussy again. The gluttal sounds of moans and chokes and smacks of Sana’s lips on Dahyun’s other lips, the only thing that she can do while you’re splitting Sana apart, her also doing some small movements so that she could fuck herself back onto your cock. 

Dahyun pulls her hips up for Sana to speak, “Oh baby, it’s fucking me so deep. Want him - want daddy to fuck this pretty pussy–all for him.” 

“Is that something you can do…fuck her cunt the same way you fucked my cunt?” 

This takes a pause, flashing a gaze to Dahyun while you could feel the muscles flex in Sana’s legs and hips, driving yourself into her continuously, keeping a rhythm in check. The demand that’s being proposed doesn’t even register in your mind and Dahyun does this swift motion of doing a complete one-eighty of her hips, pressing her ass down onto Sana’s forehead, leaning over with a hand onto her waist while the other pulls your face in with her small fingers. You’ll have to pay attention, because her lips are quick to keep you from snapping out of Sana’s perfect pussy. 

“What are you asking me to–” 

“I want you–” one kiss to get you drunk from Dahyun, “to fuck her properly–” another kiss to keep focus, “until she cums–” nothing wrong with having a third kiss, “all over this perfect cock.” 

Your hand is quick to reach across for Dahyun’s breast, kneading it in a way that she knows that she’s still yours, her eyes flickering down to the sight of your cock sinking back into Sana’s blown cunt, floating a pair of fingers on the clit, watching as you tear her apart, not wanting to shy or look away herself. 

Sana’s quick to pull her face off of Dahyun’s ass, gasping for air before sweeping the flat of her tongue across her pussy once again, “So fucking perfect for me, daddy, please, don’t stop,” is what she says to you while you can see her legs go limp slightly from the sides. 

The creaks of your lofted bed frame are singing at the shift of movement between the bedsheets and pillows, pulling yourself (with Sana inside still) up to the edge, planting both of your knees when you bottom yourself a little bit more deeper. You notice the image of Sana’s face fucked out, how she’s blushing, twisting her head to the right with her eyes closed, Dahyun manages to stave off to the side, taking a momentary break while you carry on with teasing Sana’s swollen clit, getting a few whines, moving her head against the sheets in a brief tantrum. 

“Had enough yet?” you had the frame of asking, smiling alongside the line of Sana’s neck while the temporary angle of your cock just nudges that one spot you’ve managed to hit a couple times, the symphony of Sana’s little ‘oh’s’ when a small move of the hips just has Sana’s cunt clenching the head of your cock to send you gasping as well. 

“Stop - stop with the questions,” she huffs, body stiffening before the wave of relaxation when you’re leaving more pretty bruises along the drawn canvas of her middle, licking up the deserved sweat of your hard work that’s also staining the sheets, along with the soaking that’s between your legs and hers. 

You get a command, Sana looks up in a panic when Dahyun tells you to start fucking her harder, lifting the small of her back to get her horizontal with the mattress. 

The levels just only seem to go up higher than then; Sana’s eyes being pulled down and rolled back. She knows you’re hitting the right spot, because of how she’s lightly pulling her legs up, you doing most of the support when she’s drawing these hitches of air, shuddering all over your waist while you push her beyond that edge. Her head is doing this bobbing motion when you slide with that upstroke, and you could feel the drag of her nails digging into your forearms that would seem accidental in another circumstance. 

Dahyun plays spectator, catching her breath, hand toying between her thighs while you’re fucking the girl beneath you into a spilled puddle all over your lap. 

“Are you seriously getting off without my help?” you ask, effortlessly gliding into the folds of Sana’s cunt. “Touching yourself while your best friend is taking my cock, sweetie? God, look at her, she’s wrecked.” 

Sana pulls you in with little strength she has left, able to get her arms around your neck and shoulders, tightening that pull even more against you. 

“Want you to cum,” she pleads, “I want you to cum inside and just, fuck, you don’t–” It’s miserable, hopeless, the power you have to just do exactly that with the way both Dahyun and Sana are both moaning and panting and just straight up rubbing both of their swollen clits while the length of your cock is still drowning in one of them. 

It’s how you do these broad strokes, slowly, strategically, a technique that you’ve perfected over the amounts of times you’ve got yourself completely fucked over, balls tapping above the pucker of Sana’s ass when pulling yourself in from the top of her thighs, a holding point while doing the best punishment of teasing you could ever do for someone like her. 

(Calling Dahyun over: shut this bitch up for me, please?) 

It’ll do you numbers in which: you’re still fucking Sana insanely hard still, with Dahyun’s head hovering above the present action. 

Sana’s clutching on to Dahyun’s leg, pressing her eyes into the skin, not wanting to let this fantastic feeling ever end, muttering all of the lovely things that she’s told you before multiple times. You could see the tug on her lips, tilting your head at how familiar the look was because you’ve seen it the first few times at how she couldn’t believe that you’d feel this good inside her, to get her stomach transformed into ashes and have her seeing stars. Sana’s body is “Pandora’s box’ full of lust, just waiting to be opened until you’ll give her opulence of what she needs from you, to fill her up. 

“Fuck her through and through,” Dahyun orders with this hint of anger, “need to see her cum–” 

“Give me your mouth, princess,” retreating from Sana’s exhausted cunt and getting Dahyun’s mouth all over you, cleaning up the mess of Sana’s slick right off of your length, stomach dipping when her throat swallows almost the entire half. 

Your ears are zeroing in on the gags your wife is making on your cock, doing a double feature while her fingers are rubbing Sana’s clit to keep that ache, grasping a high ponytail with one hand, sucking away that will have you dreaming that the tension is almost tempting of spilling inside her throat right at that second. Dialing back with what little warning you have left, slipping back into the other hot warmth below her chin. 

Despite the numbness clouding your brain, the obscene sounds of hums and whines tie in perfect tandem while you’re gliding back into Sana’s cunt, alternating between the tender rings of muscles, stretching around your cock in a one-two step: Dahyun’s mouth sliding and slobbering down your length, teasing Sana with your cockhead in her cunt massaging the walls around that squeezing vice. 

You’re not at fault for when it happens: face red hot from within, the sound that rips through your vocal cords while your knees buck at the sensation of Sana’s ass bouncing back off the edge of the bed, and the small gyration of her hips when you’ve driven all the way to the hilt, she can sense it too.

Again, you’re not at fault for the way your cock pulsates that first second inside Sana’s sopping fuckhole, the first shots at the deepest pit where you could take it, twitching while you’re trying to save yourself from losing all of it from the first hold. Any second longer inside that lovely heat will have you rethinking your life choices up until this point. 

You pull out, fist tight around your cock when you could see the lower point of your tip, giving an act of generosity firing another shot of cum inside Sana, cock out in the air where Dahyun sees the opportunity to lean in, drinking in the remaining spill that–

Scratch that, it’s not remaining, because you’re cumming everywhere. 

There’s drops of white spilling from the front of her lower lips, pumping out the leaks on the flat of Sana’s stomach. Shit, you even managed to get a few globs on Dahyun’s cheek, even up to Sana’s right tit. It’s all fucked, you almost topple over on top the both of them, the arm serving as a last gasp foothold while the color drains from your face. 

Dahyun pushes you up with both of her hands, staring at you with the splotches of your release slowly sliding down alongside her cheek. She’s taken aback with the load, but what she does with it–

(Well, don’t be surprised. She’s the love of your life for god’s sake.) 

Two fingers skate off some of the cum off her profile, rubbing it on her lips. You draw yourself away while Dahyun helps Sana sit up on the bed, her hand quick to dip under her cunt where she picks up more of your cum that you’ve spilt inside. Sana catches on quick to lick off the cum off of Dahyun’s cheek, tongue sliding across the plane to swallow, the small ‘mms’ and audible smacks of lips colliding. Dahyun just laughs when she examines her palm, placing it underneath her mouth and Sana’s both of them licking the dribble up like two birds in a bath, washed over with sweat and slick and filthy and–

“So fucking gross,” Dahyun says, finger to the arch of Sana’s brow, wiping a wisp of hair off. “Like, are you gonna be so full of yourself–”

“Hey,” Sana tuts, “Don’t get all mad now that I’ve managed to push his buttons better than you.” She then slumps herself over Dahyun’s lap, hand massaging her waist while Dahyun leans back on her palms, crossing one leg up the edge to support her head. They both get secluded in their own little world, whispering these different sayings to each other with a soft smile at one, a scrunched nose to the other. 

You manage to slot yourself to the side, next to Dahyun, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I thought this wasn’t a competition over me.” 

The pair simply roll their eyes, Dahyun runs her fingers through Sana’s hair, unconsciously, affectionately. They’re still coming down from all the fucked out clarities while they simply - just - look. Being proven wrong wasn’t that much of a loss in itself; in fact, it was actually inviting when you’re giving them the same confused expression that has the brain questioning everything from the plain existence to whether or not this new reality was even sustainable amongst the three of you. 

“We could all agree to an accord together,” Sana says enthusiastically, “like distinguished human beings- or, something like that.” 

(I mean, there’s a blueprint to draw up for that extra room anyway, but you’ll get to that later.) 

–

It’s during one Saturday morning, when the plates and bowls of today’s breakfast are already in the sink, you have a single carry-on duffel bag in your hand, placed on the highest step of the stairs, taking in that crisp air through your nose. Everything comes to a gentle slope, the clouds are high up in the sky, meshed up together, shielding the landscape from the beaming sun, and the time hasn’t even hit noon yet. 

“I just don’t get it.” you beam, elbows on the railing while your eyes get caught up in a pair of blue jay’s gliding past the street, fascinated by the companionship of nature. Only to have your attention drawn to the awaiting car on the driveway, Dahyun’s personal chauffeur (and to this day you’re still wondering if that person even gets paid or not). “All of this trouble of having a vacation, get reeled back into working, have more time off than expected, but still decide to take up another work order again?” 

Dahyun steps out the doorway, slapping your arm, leaving your face with a small wince that you play off with dead eyes. “I could call Nayeon to put in a word for Momo. If you’re making such a big deal out of it, I might as well tell them myself that I wanted more time off than need be.” 

“You said that it was work related.” you tell her as the counterargument.

“But it’s not!” Sana bursts out, all smiles while you’re walking down the pathway with another bag in your hand onto the asphalt. “Such a buzzkill, as if you didn’t want the whole place to yourself to burn down. You spend wayyyy too much time up in your little office, so consider this to be punishment.” 

“Where did this come from?” you ask, flustered, with arms up trying to play the innocence card. 

Dahyun pulls Sana’s singular luggage from her hand and into the trunk of the car, the bag you were carrying also next to be put before a shut off of the compartment. “We’ve been planning this for sometime, and now we’ve decided to do it. Together.” She pulls up her own passport with an airline ticket shoved in between the pages. You could probably guess where they’re going, judging from the assortment of clothes that they’ve packed, it must be somewhere tropical, like Cancun or in the Bahamas, maybe even Malaysia was on the cards, but you take it with a grain of salt. 

“Is this supposed to be a besties trip that I didn’t even know about until now?” you ask the two girls standing behind the car, leaning back onto the glossy material of the paint job while your arms are bridged between your chest. “I’m also assuming that this is predetermined–” 

“Stop being so analytical.” Sana groans out, “You really have to think twice about what our summer plans were?” 

“Maybe he just needs a few conditions.” Dahyun adds on, nudging Sana’s shoulder to which her face suddenly lights up in excitement. “Besides, he’s really good at reading between the lines, like, you know, he has a good thing for body language - go ahead, test him, I’m sure that he’ll show off like he always does.” 

(It’s how you catch yourself shaking your head downwards to the Earth, hiding the grin that’s breaking on your face because Dahyun knows how well you observe your surroundings. She’s trying to play dumb at the fact that she went ahead to grab your duffel bag while getting the shower ready for yourself. You also notice that Dahyun’s driver got her roughly about ten minutes early to put your bag in the trunk and pretend that nothing ever happened. It’s cute when she gets sneaky and mischievous, because Sana will always buy into what she devises to get you stressed, a migraine pounding through the back of your head, taking it out when you have both of them moaning underneath or straddled on top of you.) 

So you say: “Are there any guarantees to this if I do what you ask?” 

Dahyun puts her passport out in front, shifting her thumb over to show yours underneath. You pretend to be shocked with lifted eyebrows, but you already have them figured out. 

“Honey,” Sana says, blinking with her teeth peering through her smile, “I can guarantee that you've got us both.” 

[postracehair]

altitude

max verstappen x reader | 1.5k

you hate flying. but it's a necessity if you want to see max during the f1 season. when you finally fly home together during a break, will you let him help calm you down?

cw: r hates flying, anxiety, kissing, like, lots of kissing, worried max, allusions to more than kissing, fluff, george/carmen cameo

a/n: she's so me! i hate flying! but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! wrote this way back after brazil, but have it now as a race week gift.

--

Everything changes very quickly after you meet Max Verstappen.

You are pulled into a world of action and luxury all because he wants you there. And you go willingly because you want to be with him, too. How could you not? The world famous champion is a kind, funny, and sweet man who loves his cats, his friends, and, as is becoming clear, you.

Much of the start of your relationship is scheduling. A day here and there between races, dinners and walks and movies at his place or yours. You spend a lot of time in airports when you can, working on the go and white knuckling your way through flight after flight. It's worth it to see him on the other side.

Somehow, you've never actually travelled together.

Until now.

The race weekend ends the best way possible -- the top step of the podium. A night of celebrations fades into an early morning flight on a private jet and this time, you're coming with. Because Max has three weeks off. He'll have to work, of course, spending time in Milton Keynes before the final stretch of the season, but for the most part you're going to have him all to yourself.

It does not occur to you until you're in the car on the way to the tarmac that Max has no idea how much you hate flying. You're in one of those big Sprinter vans, head on Max's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone. George and Carmen sit on the other side, the former's head tipped back as he dozes. Everyone is quiet and you're working a bit hard to keep yourself calm.

"What is it?" Max whispers. He puts his phone down and you look over at him. His hair is a mess, you can see that much even in the low light of the van. You reach out and run a hand through it.

"What?" you whisper back.

He shakes his head a little and wraps his fingers around your wrist. "You were all loose and then you got tense."

The frequent distance between you and the busy nature of your schedules demands that communication be top of mind. You do not lie to each other about your feelings, and you do not hide things. Even things like this.

"I don't really like flying," you say, softly. "I've never told you because we've never flown together. It just makes me kind of anxious. I've never been able to shake it."

His brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "Just, maybe hold my hand during takeoff and landing. And if there is any turbulence."

"But -- I don't understand. Are you afraid?"

You know that there is really no way to make him understand but also that he won't stop trying to. Max gets afraid, he gets nervous. He's only human. But he combats it with sheer willpower, focus, and skill.

"I fly this way all the time," he says, urgent this time. "It's totally safe."

"That's not -- Max, I just get nervous. It's not really to do with safety. I just don't really enjoy it."

"Oi," George says, rousing. "What are you two yapping about?"

"Go back to snoring, George," Max says, not taking his eyes off you.

"Do I really snore?" you hear him ask in a hushed tone. Carmen shushes him.

"Pulling up to the plane now, folks," the driver calls back.

"Seriously," Max says, sounding a little desperate. "It'll be alright."

"I know. I fly all the time, Max." His frown deepens.

"To come see me," he reminds you. "If I knew you didn't like it, I would have --"

"What?" you interrupt. "Invented teleportation? It's okay, Max. Knowing it's to see you makes the whole thing easier, honestly."

This does not satisfy him. You can tell. It's a problem he can't solve -- his least favorite kind. There is no simulation to run for this, no meeting he can talk through, no track he can circle a thousand times.

The van door opens and you're all beckoned out onto the tarmac. You follow George and Carmen with your bag and Max is at your heels, his duffle slung over one shoulder and his other hand on the small of your back. Normally, he's not this touchy, but he seems reluctant to let your conversation in the van go.

"Max--"

"I'm thinking, liefje."

You roll your eyes. "About how to invent teleportation?"

"Something like that," he grumbles.

The jet is narrow, an aisle on one side and four rows of seats on the other. Four sets of two, a table between them. Carmen and George settle into one nook and you toss your bags into another. You slide into the window seat and Max sits heavily in the one next to you, still frowning. You let him, instead looking around to absorb the new experience.

It's much nicer than a regular plane, that's for sure. There is a cooler stocked with drinks and a cabinet full of what seems to be snacks. You can stretch your legs to rest your feet on the seat across from you. It's so early you figure all of you will just sleep, though Max's mood seems at odds with that plan.

The pilot introduces herself and gives a quick rundown of the route and airtime. You all nod and smile and then the doors close and the lights dim.

Max's hand finds yours immediately. You sit up a little and look over at him. He looks even more frazzled than he did at the hotel, when you both rolled out of bed and into comfy clothes. Soft pants and a hoodie that make him look boyish, younger than he is. But here, his cheeks are a little flushed and his jaw is set like he's about to get in his race car.

"What do you do normally?" he asks, softly. You can hear George's soft snores already. "When I'm not there."

"Max," you sigh.

"Tell me, please?"

The seat shifts under you as it heads for the runway. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Well, I don't hold some random guy's hand," you tease. He squeezes your palm and huffs. 

"He could be so lucky."

The plane comes to a stop and you know what happens next. Your mind remains preoccupied with Max -- a good thing, right now -- but your body tenses and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as the engines kick up and you pick up speed.

Max says your name but you don't budge. "Liefje," he whispers, much closer than before. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he gently holds your chin with two fingers and turns your face towards him.

And then he's kissing you. A closed mouth press of his lips to yours, firm but still. At least until you sigh into it, releasing your death grip on the arm rest to reach for him blindly, your tangled fingers between you. The kiss deepens, his nose sliding against yours as you part your lips and the chaste press becomes more. Max's tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to explore you. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss, so long that a voice in your head wonders if maybe you can do this for the whole flight, please? Max tugs your legs across his until you're practically in his lap, spread across the two seats like they're one.

"We're reached cruising altitude," the speakers crackle. "Feel free to move about, but please be mindful."

Max pulls away, a strand of spit glistening between you until he wipes it away with a smirk. His hair is even messier than before and his cheeks are pink. Lips swollen, eyes glassy -- you must look the same. Your heart is racing and you laugh, breathless.

"Well," Max says, then swallows. His voice is raspy, hoarse with desire. "Guess you have to fly with me from now on."

"Max." You pitch forward and settle where his neck and shoulder meet and inhale. His arms wrap around you and he holds you close. You can hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I know."

"I can do it," you remind him. "I do it all the time. I just don't like it, that's all."

You feel the press of his lips on your hair.

"I just don't like that I can't fix it," he says. "I can't get inside your head and make you know it's alright."

"No, you can't," you sigh. The plane jerks just a little -- a swoop of your stomach that has you gasping. Max's hold on you tightens and he says your name.

"How do you do this alone?" he rasps, mouth next to your ear as he rubs your back.

"I close my eyes," you say, taking deep breaths. "And I imagine you with me."

He curses softly. "We should get a jet by ourselves next time," he mutters. "Then I can really distract you."

That gets you to laugh, though you can't say you hate the idea. It makes you feel warm, makes you press your thighs together.

"Next time," you echo. "But for now..."

Max cups your jaw and ghosts his nose over yours. "For now..."

He brings your lips together.

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made Ashley’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Reader looking to the old gods for guidance, thinking it’s harmless to offer a prayer. She doesn’t know that eldritch!König hears every soft word and plea.

You needed an escape. A reprieve, if anything - something, anything, whatever the cruel world had to offer you. There wasn't a point in trying to cry for conventional gods, they didn't give you anything but creeping anxiety. There wasn't a point in trying to ask for help from your community, the one who had shunned you away. So, you try unconventional methods. Old books, spells, wild rituals, and pig blood on the sunrise. By the time you learned that sea shells are much better as a sacrifice than human blood, you were already desperate to the point of just jumping into the sea. You just didn't know you'd be welcomed in a firm embrace once you did. Konig hasn't seen a follower this cute in a long time - or, maybe, ever. His cult was never the one for beauty, it was always about the cruel practicality of power. Evil men and women seeking refuge in the cold embrace of an old god - no one else had enough resources to spit on the conventions of the mortal world. No one cared quite enough, and no one liked to torture humans quite as much as Konig did... but he didn't exactly want to torture you. An old god like him doesn't even need human sacrifices anymore - it's too little of a price and wouldn't even make him look in a person's direction. No - he needed something bigger, something more interesting. Your feeble ambitions aren't that interesting for him either, but your humble body is, on the other hand... An eldritch being like him doesn't really have need of the flesh, but he can't help but nurture his affection and press his body closer and squirm his tentacles all over you. You were prepared for a possible assault while working with the demonic beings - some of them like to take bodies for a price, as you have read - but you weren't prepared for an old god exploring your body like a curious teenager. His tendrils coil around your nipples, tugging and squeezing, making you whimper from something dangerously edging on pleasure - and making the hot feeling you notice under your hip that much more terrifying. He doesn't ask for your name - not because he already knows it or because he doesn't care about it, but because he intends to give you his by the end of the night. You knew that a deal with an eldritch god would be a terrible, horrible, absolutely unthinkable idea and a punishable offense - you just didn't know that punishment would be this pleasurable. He explores your body with the eagerness of a lover and the curiosity of an explorer, and despite his face being hidden, you can almost feel his cold gaze going deeper, pressing closer. Konig accepts your call, he accepts you as the price for whatever little wish you had hidden in your chest. And while he doesn't need a wife, doesn't need a mortal lover on his arm, he will take joy in filling you up with his eggs and watching as you slowly succumb to him - just like a cute little worshiper like you should. And if you would finally get enough of a brain to try and refuse him, then, well... Konig wouldn't mind breaking a leg or two to keep you trapped in his sea cave forever - or right until you're ready to become a proper old god's wife.

[rafebangme]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat!lamb!reader teasing rafe about how desperate he is to fuck her... until she's the desperate one.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! semi-public? (its just a backyard), fingering, teasing, kinda dom!rafe, language, possessive rafe i guess. wc: 1.1k

a/n: really getting back into it hello. i think this might be the first time i'm really happy with something i've written whew,, ENJOYYY

it was a sunny afternoon, you were laying out in a lounger next to the pool in a frilly white bikini that barely left anything to the imagination, sunglasses adorning your face as you fiddled with the braids in your hair. music softly played in the background as you marvelled at the view of the glistening water.

it had been scorching hot for a few days and you'd finally decided to take advantage of the pool in the backyard. you were the only one home, thankfully, you couldn't stand your parents nagging at you all the time and now they could only do that over text in a completely different time zone.

on account of this, you had your phone on silent (who wants notifications interrupting songs anyways) so you didn't take notice to any of the messages of your boyfriend had been sending you the entire 2 hours you'd been outside.

rafe knew you were home alone so of course to him only one idea came to mind when he woke up this morning and remembered your parents had finally left for two weeks. he'd texted you a few times simply hinting at wanting to see you but after you hadn't been replying for an hour, his texts grew a little desperate and worried.

2 hours later he's pulled up to your house and rapping on the front door, something else you unknowingly ignored. frustrated he finally decides to walk around the length of the house and enter from the backyard gate. to his surprise, and relief, there you were, humming to music without a care in the world.

he grinned as he watched your warm body lay steady, the sun was gleaming down on you, he would easily have described you as an angel to anyone in that moment. but his frustration came bubbling up again.

"y/n." he said gruffly, stalking over to you on the lounge chair, you slowly lifted your head at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, glad to hear him until he opened his mouth again. "i've been fuckin' texting you? where's your phone."

you raised an eyebrow and reached under the lounge chair, pulling your phone from the shade. there on the lockscreen you scrolled through all the texts, momentarily glacing back up at rafe every few texts as he stood there, fists slightly balled.

you sat up, stifling a giggle, "someone's happier than me about my parents leaving.."

"why's your phone off" he snapped, frustration bubbling into anger at your laughing. your brow furrowed at the tone he was attempting to use with you.

you crossed your arms, "rafe are you really gonna try and speak to me like that after the way you've been begging to fuck me for the past two hours?"

his jaw ticked, he knew you were completely correct. he swiftly sat down on the edge of the chair, his body inches away from yours as a hand reached out and snatched your phone.

you watched him carefully, now getting angry yourself, how could he just snatch something of yours off you like that?

and then you glanced down at his khaki shorts, it was impossible to miss, you didn't know how you hadn't before, they were completely tented. a smug grin made its way across your lips, he was soo sexually frustrated that he was getting angry over everything now. cute.

as he was busy changing the settings on your dnd, you slowly and carefully reached over and started palming him through his pants. he jolted at the touch and snapped his head to look at you, relief but also shock in his eyes.

"you've never been good at communication.." you smiled sweetly, rolling your thumb over his tip through the fabric. he twitched a little then threw your phone down and grabbed your hand, using it to pull your entire body towards him so your lips were just grazing his.

"don't you ever forget to reply to my texts." he lowly said, looking into your eyes intensely. unfortunately for you, his gaze was absolutely irresistible, like looking into heaven itself.

you didn't waste any time in pressing your lips to his while practically crawling into his lap and he wasted no time in pulling the bikini top aside to cup your perky tits. he grinned into the kiss, heat engulfed your body as he pulled you and close as he could.

he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and re-adjusted you on his lap, you could fully feel the extent of his frustration. he doesn't breaks his lips from yours, pushing his tongue past the seam of your lips, entangling his tongue with yours.

"you want me just s'much as i want you, don't you baby" rafe rasps against your lips as a hand slinks down your body and to the centre of where the heat is pooling. you groan as his fingers swipe across your folds through the thin bikini bottoms before he yanks them to the side.

he teases your wet pussy before slipping two long fingers inside, parting from the kiss to see your reaction at the intrusion. you gasp, mouth agape as he grins mischievously, "look at you, so pretty around my fingers."

"please..." you whine, gripping at the bicep of the arm that had your body trembling. he just grinned, jamming his fingers harder into your weeping hole as your breathing got increasingly heavier.

you couldn't take the lack of control, the lack of the release you were begging for, leading you to start fucking yourself on his fingers. he just scoffed and pulled your head in by the nape of the neck to continue torturing your lips.

finally, your legs began to twitch, pussy clamping around his thick digits. "you gonna cum for me pretty girl? cum all over my fingers? hm?" he coaxed as you frantically nodded, digging your nails into his arm, begging.

rafe nipped at your bottom lip, dragging it out a little with his teeth before releasing it and whispering into your ear, "i know baby, i can feel your nails digging into me, come on, cum all over my fingers f'me"

your eyes roll back as you groan, "oh shit, oh rafe!" white light clouds your vision as your face falls into the crook of his neck, he slows the pace before dragging his fingers out of your soaked cunt, bringing his hand up to his lips and slurping your juices off.

he kisses the top of your head before re-adjusting your bikini for you, "mm, made f'me" he mumbled with a satisfied grin. he gently slides your body back onto the lounge chair before stripping his shirt off and slowly stalking over to the edge of the pool.

"wait rafe, what about you?" you question, still a little out of breath.

he turns with a smirk, locking his gaze on yours for a moment, "we've got ages baby, your parents aren't around are they."

[dixons-sunshine]

Ok ok ok ok-

I've been struck with a three am idea that I cannot shake so pretty pretty please if your not busy may I request it?

It would be a Daryl x Reader were they are parents of their newborn? Probably set in Alexandria... The baby is up crying and Reader who is very sleep deprived is trying to calm the baby down but nothing is working, and at this point Reader hasn't had a solid nights sleep in a few days? Like, maybe Reader is struggling to put the baby to sleep and the crying starts to get to them and they start crying too? (Not like full on sobs but tears bc their emotional state is damaged from lack of sleep) And Daryl wakes up and helps reader? Like, tucks reader in before taking care of their newborn?

I just can't shake Daryl as a dad he woud try to be the best dad ever just bc he would be so scared to end up like his 'father' 🥺

Please and thank you very much and take care!!

Sleepy Time | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn’t mine.*

Summary: Life with a baby wasn’t easy. All of your attention had to go towards the bundle of life you brought into the world, which left you with little time to take care of yourself and even less time to get some much needed sleep. One night, while taking care of your and Daryl’s baby girl, the lack of sleep caught up with you and emotions started to bubble over. Luckily, Daryl was there to take care of both you and the baby—the two most important people in his life.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Sleep deprivation, self deprecating thoughts, feelings of worthlessness, mentions of Daryl’s father and his past abuse.

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: I’m sick at the moment and have no energy to write much, but this request was way too cute to not get done ASAP. I’ve been wanting to write something about Daddy!Daryl for a while now so this request is a godsend. Thank you so much for it! I hope you like this.

Everyone but you.

The moon was shining brightly outside the home you shared with Daryl. The stars were twinkling in the sky and the crickets were chirping. It was a peaceful night and everyone in the community was sleeping soundly.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

Despite your reassuring words, your baby girl, Hazel, kept on crying. Her cheeks were red from the tears she shed and her eyes were shut tightly. The sight of your baby in such a state made your heart ache in a way that it had never hurt before.

Nothing you tried could soothe Hazel of her crying. She refused to breastfeed or take her bottle, and her diaper didn’t need changing. She didn’t appear to be sick and there was nothing that could be hurting her physically, so you were at a lost for what could be troubling her so much. She just kept on crying.

You gently bounced her while rubbing her small back, praying to whatever was out there that you would figure out what was wrong with her. You hated the fact that you couldn’t soothe her, feeling useless as she continued to wail. Her cries echoed off the walls of the nursery, the sound deafening.

You hummed a lullaby to her, a last resort in hopes of calming her down. You could feel a lump form in your throat as unwanted tears started to fill your eyes. The lullaby you were humming started sounding choked up as your throat started constricting, trying to withhold the sobs that were busy building up in your chest.

The lack of sleep was busy catching up with you. Not once did you regret your baby girl—Hazel was the physical embodiment of the love you shared with Daryl and you’d die for her—but you desperately needed a full night’s sleep. You were barely functioning and that was a problem. How could you take care of your daughter when you could barely take care of yourself?

The sound of the nursery door opening instantly caught your attention, your senses on high alert. You spun around and locked eyes with the love of your life, the familiar blues of his eyes calming you down slightly. The calm you felt was short-lived, however, because Hazel’s cries got louder due to the fact that you weren’t humming to her anymore.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and shut the door, quietly moving to stand beside you. Even in the darkness of the room, he could clearly see the glisten of the tears in your eyes. His heart ached for you, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were cradling Hazel, he would’ve pulled you into a tight hug.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, putting a hand on your shoulder in the hopes of bringing you some comfort.

You sniffled and willed the tears away, hating the fact that Daryl had to see you in that state. “I don’t know,” you replied honestly, gently rocking your baby back and forth. Hazel’s cries started to die down a bit, and you were grateful for it. “She won’t drink and she doesn’t need changing, and she doesn’t appear to be sick. She just won’t stop crying.”

Daryl’s heart broke at the crack in your voice. He wrapped one of his arms around you and brought you into a side hug, placing a kiss on your forehead. “S’alright. We’ll figure it out. She’ll be okay.”

You sniffled again and nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl pressed another kiss to your forehead before motioning for you to hand Hazel over to him. You obliged and carefully transfered her into his arms, your heart swelling at the sight of the father of your daughter, who was a big, burly man, carefully and gently cradling such a small human to his chest. You smiled through your tears, a sense of happiness filling you, even though you were feeling worn down and useless a few moments prior.

A small smile spread across Daryl’s face as he gazed down at his baby girl. Hazel’s cries had disappeared, small sniffles and the redness of her cheeks the only signs that she had been crying at all. Daryl brought his hand up to gently caress her face, before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her small forehead.

You smiled at the sight before you, but you couldn’t help the feeling of failure that spread through you. You had been up for over an hour trying to soothe her and hadn’t succeeded, but then Daryl came in and calmed her down in a matter of seconds. You were grateful for him and the fact that he had managed to let her cries subside, but you couldn’t help feeling defeated.

Daryl gently rocked Hazel from side to side before looking up at you. He could immediately see the pained yet immensely tired expression on your face, and he frowned. He didn’t know exactly what was going through your head at that moment, but he had a pretty good idea. After he was sure that Hazel’s crying had stopped completely for the time being, he grabbed the pacifier from the dresser and popped it into her mouth before gently placing her down in her crib.

Daryl turned to you and offered his hand. “C’mon,” he said simply.

Confused, you grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull you out of the nursery and back into your shared room right across the hall. He tugged you over to the bed and silently urged you to lie down, which you did. Once you were comfortable, he pulled the covers over you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Ya okay?” he asked in concern, his voice quiet as he studied your face.

You nodded hesitantly. “I’m fine,” you lied, and Daryl could tell instantly.

“Yer not fine. What’s up?” he urged softly, leaning forward to brush the hair away from your eyes.

You inhaled sharply, debating whether or not to tell him what you were feeling. In the end, the need to get everything off of your chest overpowered, and you cleared your throat, trying not to tear up again.

“Am I a bad mom?”

That surprised Daryl. He instantly shook his head in denial, taking one of your hands in his. “Nah, ‘course not. Why would ya even think that?”

“It’s just... I try so hard to be a good mom but I can’t even soothe my own daughter when she cries. Nothing I tried worked. She wouldn’t stop crying, yet you managed to calm her down in a matter of seconds. If I can’t even comfort my own daughter, what type of mom does that make me?”

Daryl sighed softly. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. “Yer not a bad mom. Sometimes babies cry and there ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘bout it. Remember back at the prison when Lil’ Asskicker wouldn’t stop crying? It took Rick over an hour to get her to calm down. Would ya say that Rick’s a bad dad jus’ ‘cause he couldn’t instantly figure out what he needed to do to calm her?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Then stop callin’ yerself a bad mom. Yer not. There’s gon’ be days when Hazel will want ya instead of me, and vice versa. It ain’t gon’ mean that one of us is the better or preferred parent ‘cause of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling yourself want to cry all over again, but this time in relief. However, you withheld the urge and instead settled on giving him a small smile, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes starting to feel heavier. You let out a small yawn, making Daryl chuckle fondly.

“Get some sleep, ‘kay? Ya will feel a lot better in the mornin’,” he instructed, leaning forward to place a feathery light kiss on your forehead.

“What about Hazel?” you asked after hearing her start to get fussy again over the baby monitor Daryl had found on a scavenging trip.

“Dun’ worry ‘bout her. I’ve got it. Ya jus’ get some sleep, ‘kay?” he assured you, getting up from the bed to head out to the nursery.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, nodding your head. However, before Daryl could leave, you called out to him.

Daryl turned around and looked at you. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Daryl smiled softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. “I love ya too.”

With that, he closed the door behind him and made his way over to the nursery. Once inside, he turned on the little nightlight that Michonne had gifted to you when Hazel was born, walking over to the crib to pick her up. Cradling her to his chest, he walked over to the dresser to grab the still-full bottle before making his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

Daryl sat down and brought the bottle to her mouth. This time, instead of refusing it, she eagerly opened her mouth and latched onto the bottle, starting to drain it of its contents. Daryl laughed at her eagerness, holding her gently against his chest as she drank.

“Delicious?” he asked rhetorically, knowing full well that she couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Bet it is.”

Hazel simply kept drinking from the bottle, her hands clutching at Daryl’s shirt. Daryl stared down at her fondly, wondering how one tiny human could be so perfect.

“Ya need to go easy on yer mama, y’know?” he started, gently rocking back and forth on the rocking chair. “She might seem like it, but she ain’t a superhuman. She needs her sleep, too.”

Daryl paused for a moment, simply admiring his little girl for a moment before continuing. “Yer mama loves ya so much, though. And so do I. We won’t let nothin’ happen to ya, lil’ one.”

Daryl fell silent after that. He simply took care of his daughter, wondering how he got so lucky. Not only did he have the most amazing wife who loved him unconditionally, but now he had a daughter who he would die to protect. He had a family, something he never would’ve thought could happen to him before the apocalypse.

Daryl looked up and at the door, envisioning you sleeping peacefully in the room across from him, sleep that you deserved, before looking down at Hazel again. As he stared down at the life he made with you, memories of his own father plagued his mind—memories of his abuse and loveless nature. How he never seemed to have any sort of patience when it regarded his own son, how any sort of crying was met with a physical blow to his face.

Daryl grimaced at the memories and shook his head, willing the memories to go away. He always wondered if his father’s abusive ways would be passed down to him, but as he looked at Hazel in his arms, he realised that nothing would ever make him be like his father. He vowed to protect the life he had made with you, the embodiment of your shared love for one another. He vowed to himself that he would never stoop to the cruelty his father had bestowed on him. He would be there for both you and Hazel, through thick and thin, through happiness and heartbreak, for as long as death remained away from him.

He would love the both of you until the day that he let out his last breath.

[yannaryartside]

CARMY NEVER WANTED TO CREATE A MENU WITH SYD.

AND WHY THAT IS THE CORE THEME OF THE SHOW

PART 1: THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIEVES

So, one of the bases of creating an efficient character arc is to give the character something they want, and something they need. In the pursuit of getting what they want, the theme of the show and obstacles will show them what they need. Most of the time, they need healing from an emotional wound that prevents them from growing into the ultimate version of themselves, capable of winning the challenges of the story. I will try to explore Carmy's wound and, more importantly, the lie that created that wound.

In 'The negative trait thesaurus" by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, it reads:

"Wounds are often kept secret from others because embedded within them is the lie-an untruth that the character believes about himself."

When I started therapy (disclaimer: this is not professional advice; I am just talking from how I interpreted all of this), I was introduced to the concept of "limiting beliefs:" lies we have told ourselves about our own nature or the nature of the world. The most difficult beliefs to leave behind are those established in our early childhoods, and we told ourselves those lies to make sense of the world, to make peace with realities we were not equipped to comprehend yet. 

Some examples of lies people belive:

"I am too stupid to learn anything; my teacher said so" "It was my fault that I was molested." "I am a bad person for wanting a different life."

When people believe these lies, they will act accordingly, maybe attracting situations that hurt them but keeping the lie active in their lives. They may self-sabotage or create bonds with people who also believe the lie, even if it doesn't seem this way. 

In some cases, people may develop complete personalities or behaviors to prove the lie wrong, but deep down, they still believe in the lie. Carmy falls into this last category. This is where we find the most contradictory parts of his personality, how he can act shy and insecure in some instances and appear confident and even aggressive in others. 

Long post underneath.

THE RESENT OF A MOTHER:

We can only assume here because I think Storer is gonna let us know more about this soon, but I think I got an idea of this wound when I saw the only moment Carmy was alone with Donna on "Fishes."

I have a lot of things to say about Donna herself, but let's begin with the obvious: the conversation in this scene had little to do with the dinner itself. This was a woman stating that she felt alone and not valued, probably due to being abandoned by her husband and having to overwork herself at the beef to support her 3 kids, all while being a single mother. We don't know if this feeling of abandonment is something she has carried since childhood, but in the state of current womanhood, it wouldn't be uncommon. The work of women (especially mothers), particularly the emotional labor, is rather invisible and not valued at all.

But again, this is something she has used as fuel to resent her kids, who, at the end of the day, didn't ask to be here. Her anger has to go somewhere since she cannot direct it toward the people that ctually caused it. To get to the point:

THE BEARZATTO SYBLING DYNAMIC

Carmy said, "You are not alone; I am here with you." (This kind of comes back to telling Syd she was not alone at the end of the season.) This scene is about a kid trying to communicate to his mother that he loves her and trying desperately to connect with her, to get her to express her affection for him as well.

It tells me that growing up, he felt like he had to "earn" her affection. Donna likes to make her kids feel guilty about her unhappiness, so the kids feel that they are constantly walking on shells because they think their mother hates them, or at least that she resents them and that it is their responsibility to fix it.

In the scene, Carmy asked,

"What is so hard, Mom?"

I think what he was actually asking is, "What is so hard about being with us, to love us? What did we do to you that made you resent us this way?" He is asking because he wants to know, to finally understand. Why do you drink, Mom? Why do you yell? Why do you say such hurtful things?

When she answers, "Nobody makes things beautiful for me," you can see in his face the disconnection. He knows he can't do anything about that.

Then, a crucial part in the scene occurs when Donna calls him "Michael, " which indicates that the only one of her children who could make her feel happy was Michael, or at least that is how the other two kids felt. You can see the hurt in Carmy's eyes in the scene because this answer dismisses his effort to connect to his mother in his own right. She asks him to just leave. He offers to wait to connect with her. Then, it comes to the most chilling moment on the scene, the "we have a problem" using his full name, with resentment in every word. She hugs him while crying, kisses him, and then slaps him.

This is rejection. There is a book called "The Five Wounds of the Soul": wich are Rejection, Abandonment, Humiliation, Betrayal, and Injustice. I think Carmy's wound is rejection, for never earning his mother's love, particularly comparing himself to Michael.

Michael took responsibility for the Beef, finally giving their mom a break. It was Michael's job to make sure everyone was having a good time, to compensate for the discomfort that caused being in Donna's presence, to make sure all of them stayed as a family, which was Donna's intention, so Michael thought he had to make that happen for her. Therefore, Michael is the only one of her kids who succeeds and makes her happy. We know Donna rejects Natalie and Carmy. About Natalie, we can write another whole essay.

THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIVES

According to this scene, I think Carmy thinks that her mother didn't love him because he is not Michael; in fact, he is the most "not like Michael" someone could be. He was shy and stuttered and didn't have friends or girlfriends, comparable to Michael's ability to control every room he was in. Carmy was sensible and no macho alfa as Michael presented himself to be. Carmy left home and the family business, and both Michael and Donna expressed that they feel like he thinks he is better than them. Michael admitted later to admiring Carmy's work in Copenhagen, but Donna never did. carmy grew up having to live with the crumbles of Donna's attention that Michael left behind, wondering every day what was so wrong with him that made her reject him, and wondering what he could do to change that.

The lie that Carmy belives, could be sumarize this way:

I need to earn people's love. I need to always go the extra mile, doing the most possible at all times to earn people's love.

This all goes back to his trauma with Michael. It goes back to his career as a chef and how he became the best. He didn't need to succeed on a larger scale in the culinary industry to earn Michael's respect and love; he needed to be the best in the world, so he did that. He judges his own social abilities, comparing them to Miachae's. He left that promising career only because of Michae's death. He got the girlfriend Michael wanted for him (not saying it was the only reason, but it was there).

PART 2: WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS HAD TO DO WITH SYDNEY?

Well, what does a person who feels they always need to do the most? They do the most. I want to bring you back to the moments Carmy had to develop menu ideas with Syd on s1 and s2.

When Syd suggested items for the menu in s1, he gave her an inconclusive, not enthusiastic "maybe."

When she had to actually cook the thing for him to approve, he tried to make her feel small about it. He felt the need to remind her that she was "impatient and green," according to her previous bosses. He commented about her possibly ruining the flow by using time to cook her recipe. Yikes all around, but the core here is that he was treating her like an enemy, like competition, while she was trying to save the restaurant with what they had on hand to use the most efficient solution.

Then, when Carmy tries the dish and feels stunned by it, he has to make an ambiguous excuse on the fly and just finishes every chance of them using the recipe by saying, "is not ready yet"

And what does he do next? He goes to show the crew a recipe that is extremely complicated for the level they are operating at currently—they said so themselves. I think the recipe is a variation of Donna's butter chicken recipe. To put a nail on that coffin of his intentions to earn her love and approval at the end of it all.

But why does he do all this? Because he needs to be the hero, subconsciously, he is still that small kid begging for acceptance and love; he must go the extra mile. He cannot accept Sydney's help and partnership, because that will take away from him earning what he wants on his own merit.

In S2, he seems unenthusiastic about starting the menu in the first place. Then Claire comes along, and he tries to make it work with Syd and the menu, but I think he subconsciously thanks the universe for not having to go to his core wound. That is what self-sabotage is. That is why he bailed on the food tour with Syd, using such a stupid excuse as helping somebody else move out and never mentioning it again. He never asked her what she liked or what ideas she thought of. For most of the creative process, Syd is alone, working on her own creative crisis. The menu ends up being like two recipes they made in collaboration and then all of his family's traditional recipes. It is two of Syd's recipes and the rest of Carmy's. Then, desserts Marcus did on his own. The collaboration was superficial at best.

All of this creates the core theme of the show. The Bear was once a chaotic place (like their childhood home) that needs to evolve into an efficient, peaceful place built on love, support, and mutual collaboration like a functional family should be. Sydney is the member of this found family that forces Carmy to confront his core wound and learn he can actually be good enough while still accepting help. Therapy probably will play an important part in this theme, alongside with Carmy learning there was nothing wrong with him in the first place, that earning your parent's love is not something a kid can do.

Thankyou for reading. Gif and images are not mine.

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

I have this headcanon for Alastor's back story where he's trans, and just as himself, as he is in the show, even as a kid. So his parents sent him of to a convent, were upon ww1 breaking out in his late teens, he ran away, forged a new identity as a man, got found out once he was already over seas, blackmailed a superior into letting him stay on, where he was introduced to radio communication, and the rest is history.

But all that to say, I like to then imagine, whenever anyone tells him something mildly outlandish, but definitely true, he likes to respond with "Yes, Vox, and I took a vow of celibacy when I was a catholic nun"

To which of course people think, "so you don't belive me? I mean but aren't you a virgin? Are you not????"

And of course, this never gets asked because who's gonna ask The Radio Demom about his Sexy Life.

Angel Dust that's who.

I imagine him doing an interview on Al's Show, just a mix of publicity for them both, hanging out because they're friends, and it's all a big middle finger to the Vee's.

Maybe it's pride month and so they were planning some talk about that, Alastor joking about a possible comming out, even though its plenty well know Alastor is some where on the ace spectrum to anyone with eyes.

They get on the topic somehow, Angel says something like, "I never laid myself across the bar like that! Second set of arms at most! Never my butt, never mind my legs! not after the first time!"

"Mh-hm. You got desperate in your flirting, and I took a vow of celibacy, when I was a nun. We all do silly things, Angel."

"Well, maybe I've laid out on the pool table, but it makes for good pictures. Anyway, I been meaning to ask you about that."

"About being a nun?

"No," angel laughs, plays it off, thinking he's joking. "About your being ace and all. No pressure, but like, you really never even wanted to try?"

"No, I find it quite repulsive. The idea even,"

"You don't watch nothin'? Read nothing either?"

"Ha! No! The filthy little novel Sister Amillia sneaked in the once was quite enough- are you okay Angel?"

Angel had infact just chocked on his latte. "Wait? Sister Amillia? Sneaked in? To where!?"

"The convent, Angel. I was 14, she was 16. Wonderful woman, taught me how to handle a knife, she left shortly after the novel was discovered- Sister Tabitha was as squeaky a little rat as she looked- never saw Amillia again, though."

"Wait, sorry. You were a nun, like, actually? What the fuck?"

One of the little lights that says they have a caller lit up, but Alastor ignore it for now. "Yes, Angel, do keep up."

"Wait, so like that nun costume you wear on halloween?" Angel blows right past the fact Alastor just came out as trans, because yeah. Didnt see it comming but, the trains already wizzing by, and more importantly- "Is that like your actual nun costume?"

"Ha! No, I flung that horrid thing in a garbage can on my way to the enlistment office when I was 17."

"Enlistment?" Angels begining to see what Alastor meant when he said this episode was going to be a unique experience for his listeners at the start of the braodcast. "Like world War 1, right? You were alive for that..."

"Yes, I figured with all the confusion one little girl-"

Angel's phone goes off. It's Val. Angel hits ignore.

"Fuck off Val, I'm off today" Angel says into his mic.

But they get interrupted again and again until Angel turns his phone off.

At which point all twelve of the little light that indicate the show had callers on the line, light up.

"Ah fuck. What does he want that bad? Can you just answer it real quick?"

Alastor flips a switch and answers.

"The fuck you want Val-"

"I'm not calling for you!" It's Vox on the other end, his voice booming from the speaker "Alastor! Are you fucking serious? You were a fucking nun?"

"Yes, Vox." He says with faux patience. "My goodness, did you all stuff your ears with cotton this morn-"

"So you DID actually take a vow of Celibacy? The other day at the meeting during my presentation, you said "that'll work, Vox, sure- and I took a vow-"

"Yes. I was there."

"And!?!"

"Celibacy, among other things. If this is a dig at my sexuality than-"

"Nah fuck that, hang on I'm doing math! Okay you were born in 1901, makes you 17 in 1918, yeah that tracks. Okay so 2024 make you 123, minus the 17 years to be conservative, thats 106 yeah?"

"I was 15 when I took that vow, and under threat of being institutionalized, if that's what you're getting at-"

"108! Ha! Oh my God! 108 years! That's gotta be a record!"

"What are you getting at Vox?"

"You took a vow!" Vox screams through his laughter. "All the pomp and circumstance! On consecrated ground! before god!? To abstain from sex! And even here in hell, were sin and blasphemy are rampant and free-"

"Careful Vox, your televangelist is showing-"

"Who gives a fuck!? You're the one whos upheld their vow to God for over a century like some devout saint!"

Angel and Alastor sit there staring at eachother while Vox laughs his head off around them

"Saint Alastor the Abstinent! The pantron Saint of Virgi-"

Alastor hangs up. "Well that was informative!" Alastor chirps "Well, What's to be done about this? Hm, Angel?"

And for some reason, an unholy one, surely, the first thing out of Angel's mouth is "I could suck you dick? If that- would count?"

And it's a testament to how far they've come as friends, or pooooossbily Alastor's nerves, or maybe his sheer unwavering bravado, but Alastor only bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he get out between laughter "I don't- have one!"

And then they're both laughing and laughing and laughing, and eventually they calm down, and Alastor gets a thoughtful look. "Though, Vox did have one good point."

"Oh?"

"That does have to be a recorded, at least among sinners. Why! I very well might have redeemed myself! We should certainly bring this up with Sera at the next conference!"

And then their off both laughing again, imaging Serra's face when she realises she's going to have to look into yet more research onto the workings of redemption from Heaven's end.

[oddinarylani]

"you don't want me" | skz | pt. 1 | chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin

9:51 pm. bang chan.

it was past midnight by now. the moon wasn’t shining. she was hidden behind great big storm clouds that’d been crying since noon. the dirt turned to slush, the pavements now a dark gray - different from their softer brighter colors underneath the sun. the only sound that triumphed through the room was the white-noise sound of the rain - beating down on the roof, on the windows, on cars outside, and on the earth. 

empty. just empty. and tired. so tired. there wasn’t a way to describe it; and you were tired of trying. you hadn’t the drive for much anymore, not for work, or friends, but you still stood out for chan. you always would. you just haven’t been good at it for the past few weeks - and he was worried to bits which was the last thing you wanted. 

maybe silence and the dreadful exhaustion of not even trying to communicate would fix things. maybe he’d get the right idea and move on. this couldn’t be good for him, no, surely not. there was better in the world, it just wasn’t the home of your arms. 

“would you talk to me?” he asks, his voice shaky - brows melted together and worried sick. and he was truly worried sick. checking his phone for any texts from you or updates, laying awake when he let the worry eat him up. 

you look up from your hands, realizing you were lost in thought. “o-oh, yeah. sorry.” 

“sorry? i just want you to talk to me. you don’t have to apologize.” he grabs at your hands, a slippery grip that shakes his stable hold, he eventually steadies his hold and looks at you with a kind of wavering certainty. he’s trying desperately to be the strength you need, but his vigor is faltering. he sees all the hope in the palms of his hands being to melt away and he hadn’t the time to sort through the hundreds of thoughts forming in the terrorous wake of that.

your hand falls slack in his own, failing in your grip of his desperate grab of your hands. chan watches every microexpression that graces your face, seeing your brows bleed together. doubt strikes your features, and you slide your hand from his grasp, shaking your head before the words leave your mouth. 

all you had to do was muster the strength to speak the words, but even then, swallowed by a kind of grief, completely blindsided by false-truths, but even then it hurt to say. 

“y-you don’t want me,,” your watery eyes can’t even meet chan’s - he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces all over the floor. 

“you’re all i want, all i have ever wanted- what do you mean.” and his voice wobbles, he wants to reach out, grab you, stabilize you - shake the sense into you, because what do you mean he doesn’t want you? he’s wanted you so terribly for so long that he let it tear him up inside. 

“i’ve been in love with you for years- i-i love you so much, you’re all i want.” he does reach out now, bracing your arms in his gentle hands when the tears spill over your cheeks and you crumble in his hold. 

“b-but i’m like,,, this- i-i don’t-” he brings your body into his arms, your chest meeting his as his big arms wrap around you and hold you tight to his body. he’s warm, and his embrace just fills you up so much you don’t know what to do with it. 

“i love this part too. i promised you that and i do. i always will okay?” his hands hold the sides of your head, over your hair - and he pulls away to look you in the eye when he says that. he knows you need to hear it, knows you need to look at him when he does. 

you fold and buckle, only able to nod to keep your voice from wobbling and cracking. you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. 

“i’ll never stop telling you i love you.” he presses his plushy lips to the top of your head, his hands smoothing over your back gently. “i’ll tell you more.” he promises. 

“i-i’m scared i’ll push you away, that i’ll scare yo-you off or that i’ll hurt you. i-i can’t-” you shake your head against him and frown, his t-shirt soaking up the wetness from your cheeks. “i can’t hurt you, chan. i can’t do that to you.”

“you don’t hurt me, baby. you never have, i promise. just wanna be here for you.” he mumbles against your hair, his hand cradling the side of your head. his lips leave tingly kisses along your hairline, and his promises to you fill you with love that you’re unsure what to do with. 

you nod against him, and he smooths his hands over your head again, “okay? i love you.” he pulls away, his eyes soft and brows melted together as his sights washed over your tear stained cheeks and face. “love you too.” you mumble, his thumbs swiping your under eyes and drying your cheeks. 

8:12 am. lee know. 

soft cuts of sunlight filtered in through the lines of the blinds and you’re immediately met with the warmth of the bed beneath you. the shirt you were wearing wasn’t yours, and your hair still seemed done from the night before - with a wandering and curious gaze, your eyes filter over to the sight next to you, and your lips part in surprise. 

minho, laying like an angel, as always. sleepy, soft skin blanketed by a thick comforter - lean muscle beneath. his hair was sprawled and he was still wearing makeup but if he wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world you didn’t know what was. 

only problem of course, he was your friend. a long time friend. and you’d been into him for far too long to let this slide. 

quickly, your legs slither out from the comforters, your toes finding the wood floors with ease as you move quietly to slink out of his bed, your gaze fixated on his sleeping face the entirety of your attempted escape. you pull on your skirt from the night before, grab your shoes in one hand before they slip from your grip and clatter to the floor quite ceremoniously. 

your face winces up, shoulders and spine tight as he stirs, his eyes fluttering open. 

he leans up on his elbows, eyes squinted as they adjust to the mild morning light coming from behind his blinds. 

“what’re you doing?” he asks tiredly, slumping back into the mattress as you gather your shoes in your hand once more. 

you push your hair from your face, huffing to gather your breath as you look at him. “i have to leave, minho.” you explain, feeling the tightness in your chest gather at the thought. 

“you don’t, come back to bed-” he groans, stretching, his hand gently offered to you as he laid back down, eyes sleepy and voice croaky. 

all of your hurt, after all of these years comes back to the forefront of your brain. the nights you spent crying, realizing he’d never want you, the years spent in pain in realization you’d never have him. and you can’t stop yourself from blurting what you truly felt, tired and defeated. 

“you don’t want me.” you shrug like it’s easy, like there was no other way, only acceptance of what you’d manage to convince yourself of. your chest aches at the sound of your own statement, but you grip your shoes a little closer and swallow the dryness in your throat. 

he leans up, slow. the crinkle of the comforter as he does so only fills you further with nervous anticipation. his eyes are still tired, angeled and low and he seems so pleased with what he says. 

“i do want you.” his brows lift for a moment. not for a second does his eye contact waver - and you knew, a small but very true part of you knew he wasn’t lying but you couldn’t accept it. no it wouldn’t be that easy, and maybe it meant something different to him. 

“no you don’t.” it’s gentle, defeated, barely rolled off your mouth when you say it and he feels your hurt - feels a bit of his own too though he wouldn’t like to admit it. 

“i do.” he presses. his expression changes, one of understanding that melts at the ache in your chest. he softens, his hand now more of an extended invitation. almost like he was silently pleading with you to just take it - take it and trust him. 

your fingertips tingle with the twinge of need that extends in your touch; they act before you can control them. the back of your hand raises, the supple skin of your palm meets his, and he wraps his hand around yours the moment you touch. 

it feels so right - god it feels right. it nearly takes the breath away from you - even this was enough. just this. 

he pulls you closer to him, his arm lifting to circle around your waist like it was the first time he’d ever done so; his touch and hold almost chivalrous. never for a second does he let his eyes leave your own, your face. his skin awakens prickles in your skin, your lungs take in breaths shakily - like every bit of you trembles at his touch. 

he takes your hand, swallows it in his grip because he wants to ground you - just think of me. it’s like he says. i’m here. a promise. what he can’t muster to say in words - he tries desperately hard to say in the way he floods your senses. it’s bracing, whole. 

“have for a while.” he admits softly, as your knee comes to press into the softness of his bed, getting closer by the second. 

“why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, sitting with your legs folded over his own cloaked by the comforter. 

he shakes his head gently, brows raised again, for a moment. “don’t know.” he musters, smiling for a second at the realization of his own sheer disbelief. why hadn’t he? fear? doubt?

“i should’ve said something too. ‘s okay.” you squeeze his hand before softly pulling it from his grasp, knowing he wasn’t the biggest fan of skinship. but to your surprise, he reaches back out for you.

he pulls your hand to his cheek, leaning into the touch with soft low gaze. his skin is warm, his guidance of your hand to his face is gentle, and you feel your heart lighten at the action, a small understanding smile on your lips. your shoes are disregarded, hair messy, but all you see is him. and all he wants is you. 

3:43 pm. changbin.

“your friend,” your mom begins. “the one with the…” her voice drifts off, her hands gesturing in long strokes of her fingers from the top of her head to her mid-waist, repeating this action until you understood. the long hair, she was meaning. 

“yeah,” you follow with their name. 

“their parents were at the recital - did you know she’s going off to a performing arts high school?” and you swallow because of course you knew this, the whole school did. and now your hands were wringing together because you were nervous, anxious. and you just didn’t want to hear her actually say it or it’d confirm everything.

“why don’t you do something like that? 

it was a frightening feeling and not at all fleeting. no. this sat with you, cooked inside your brain and marinated in a venomous concoction of long-lasting insecurity and self-doubt. 

being loved by and loving changbin was a catalyst and returning friend of a face you said goodbye to some time ago. comparatively, you and changbin were very different people. a world-renown producer and artistic creator to one of the most popular kpop groups to ever rise in the industry, and you. 

little you. 

with nimble fingers half-good at crochet, a homemade recipe for lemon ginger tea, and a smile you convinced yourself most days was nice, you didn’t compare. it wasn’t sad, it took no convincing on your end, it just was. 

suddenly consciousness regains in the forefront of your mind - and it slips from your lips before you can stop it. 

“you don’t want me.” it’s said into the phone pressed against your cheek, you’re driving, and you’re nearly home. the rain is still falling from the morning - shining and wetting the roads up for traffic lights to reflect their bright colors on the throats of puddles. 

on the other end of the line, changbin’s voice dies in his throat - too thoroughly stunned in the moment to even try speaking. his lips part, his brain thinks over the words you’ve just said to him, and he can’t puzzle himself as to why you’d ever say that. 

“w-why do you want me-” a sharp intake of breath past your lips, a shudder, the slam of your car into park as the doors unlock and his very first instinct before anything else is to be there. 

he says your name, speaks it with ease - familiarized himself with the way it feels in his mouth, and he stutters before speaking again. 

“of course i want you- are-are you okay? talk to me, baby what’s going on?” he stiffens up in his chair and chan leaves the room to grab a call from an executive. right now the music doesn’t matter, the hours of work spent trying to delicately assemble a new track doesn’t matter, the only thing he can think about is you. why you’re saying this. 

“i-it’s been-” you sniff, wiping your face at the pathetic notion of your own tears. “it’s been on my mind lately and i can’t stop thinking about it, bin.” your hand shakes with the grip on your phone, voice failing as you succumb to the tears. your shoulders shake, and you put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise - as if you could hide it from changbin.

“baby, i’m here, i’m here, it’s okay. let me wrap this up with chan real quick and i’ll be over okay? you at your place?” he asks, voice soft and turned away from the mixing booth as chan walks back into the studio.

you nod, humming and confirming.

“i’ll be on my way in a minute, okay? i’ll text you when i’m headed over, baby.”

he leaves a minute later, driving like hell to get to you quick enough - and when he sprints up the stairs to your apartment he walks in to find the lights low and your form sitting on the couch - head resting in your hand.

“i’m here, baby. what’s wrong.” he doesn’t miss a beat - immediately he kneels at the couch, his hands coming to stroke your upper arms, coaxing you soothingly to open up to him. you shake your head, lips wobbling. 

“god- it’s pathetic really, bin-” you almost chuckle in hindsight. “just…” you look down, feeling the warmth of his hands as he circles you.

there’s a brief intermittent pause. a realization. it washes over you and steals the words from your mouth and the thoughts along with them. his hands pause between your bodies as if he’s afraid - afraid to touch you - afraid to upset you. more big wet tears cascade down your cheeks, face flushed with heat and red, and you wish more now than ever that he’d just hold you. 

“i-i don’t,,, i can’t-” you sniff. “compare to you.” it angers you to even speak it, knowing it’d hurt him. why.

“y-you don’t,,” you shake your head, your eyes filtering up to meet his own that look at you with such disbelief it’s almost sobering.

you were telling him this. like it was a fact, like it was your decision to make. he thinks maybe that’s why it hurt so much to hear you say it. like there was no alternative in your mind, nothing you could tell yourself to soothe this particular ache. like your mind was made up. 

“baby, baby-” he stands to sit next to you on the couch, gently grabbing your legs to toss over his own, his hands coming to stroke the wetness from your cheeks. every touch of his skin on your own is terribly grounding and sobering, and for a moment your tears slow a bit as he cradles your face in his calloused hands. 

“all i want is you. all i want. okay? i want all of you, on your best and worst days.” his arms circle you, hand resting at the back of your head to urge him into your shoulder. there’s where your tears fall now, arms grasping onto him and his shoulders. “there’s nothing you or anyone else could say to change my mind either. you’re perfect and i love you.” 

you nod against him, breathing in shaky. “i love you. i love you so much.” you know he’ll say it as many times as he must before you accept it. 

“love you too. love you.” you’ve become something like putty in his arms as he holds you. his hands soothe over your back, and you hear it; hear him. and believe him. 

1:03 am. hyunjin. 

your fingertips shake, fluttering over the textured fabric of the dress sitting daintily from your figure. a breath released, a breath inhaled, and in the next moment - it all comes crumbling; the image of yourself you brave for yourself. the falsities, the fabrications. in the reflection of the mirror you watch peripherally your face drop, turning to the side to run your hands over the curve of your body, trying to make it fit, trying to fit this idea into a box. 

your hands drop slack, hitting the sides of your legs. your composure weakens and you feel a buckle in your ability to withstand it. 

“fuck,,” you whisper, turnin away from the mirror with your hands on your face - fighting with might only a god could match to keep from crying. 

too many tears were shed because of this very same reality, you didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of succumbing to it. 

but your knees buckle - submitting to it, and you’re right back at square zero. 

hyunjin was going to be home any moment now, this fact had drifted away from your thoughts as hot tears welled up in your eyes, only when you hear the door unlock do you tighten up like board was tied to your back. you stand, walking to the closet to change quickly. just as your fingers unzipped the back, tears rolling over your cheeks and jaw, hyunjin announces he’s walked into the bedroom with a soft, “i’m back, baby.” 

his voice was soft, and he was completely oblivious and safe from the torrent of thoughts within your skull. he slinks in, your hands pause from unzipping your dress. “ah,” you sniff. “hey honey.” 

his head turns in your direction at the sound of that. 

he doesn’t have sights on you, you’re hidden behind the closet doors, but he makes his way over quietly, making a questioning type of humming noise, as if gently asking, “what?” 

you keep your lips sealed, unable to conjure an excuse quick enough - he’s suspected you already and you know if he finds you like this, it’ll be a torrential downpour you won’t be able to stop - hyunjin had that effect. 

“,,,babe? what’s-“ “d-don’t-“ your hand stops him from opening the closet door, you didn’t mean for the action to come across as aggressive it was - but you couldn’t let him see, and your heartbreaks at the idea. 

“what’s wrong, angel? i won’t judge you, i promise.” he relaxes his hands on the closet doors, his eyes darting over it’s surface. there’s a bit of anxiety boiling up now for hyunjin, he hadn’t a clue what was going on but he expected the worst by far. all he wanted was to be there for you - know why you were upset and help. 

“the dress i-… it doesn’t look good.” you sniff again, on the very edge once more as tears build more, faster. 

“i’m sure you look beautiful, baby. it’s okay. can i come in?” he doesn’t press the door, but instead waits for your consent. 

“s-some of the beading came off while i was putting it on and the seams look stretched-“ you take a breath shakily from your nose, “hyunjin-“ you say his name with reason, like saying it would be enough to soothe you. hyunjin feels his heart ache deep within his chest, his bottom lip pushed out slightly as he hears your hurt. 

“you won’t… you won’t want me.” 

it absolutely tears him up inside the way you say that. 

he pushes the door with no fighting from you, eyes first and only meeting your eye contact. “all i want is you, okay? i want you.” he promises, hands a bit shaky as he smooths over your hair and holds your face, his movements a bit sporadic as he tries everything he can to get you to focus on him, on what he was saying. 

“i love you.” he exhales. “i love you.” his hands shake your face the slightest amount to just try to get you to believe him. 

“and you look so beautiful, baby.” he mumbles into your hairline, pulling you into his arms, his own eyes closed tight. his hands flatten against your back, running his palms smooth over your exposed skin. “you are so beautiful.” 

in his arms, your crying slows. and the only reason he lets you go is to make a point. 

“come. follow me.” he grasps your hand, letting you follow behind him with as he stands in your mirror. 

“look at you.” he smiles softly, holding your hands in his own. “so pretty,” he whispers as if in thought, looking over your form as if it was a book to study. 

you wipe your face, feeling hyunjin begin to walk behind you, his hand kept only our waist as he now towers behind you - warm hand resting on your hip. “i knew when i bought this you’d look beautiful but,, it’s more than that.” his voice is soft, only shared between the both of you. 

you shake your head gently, feeling his hands steady on your zipper, stabilizing your side as he begins zipping you up - his eyes thoroughly focused on your form in the mirror as he does so. he says it like he doesn’t doubt it even for a moment. there’s not a moment he doesn’t think you’re outstanding, and not a moment he wishes to quiet his claim of your beauty. 

“look at me,” he asks, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes in the mirror. you let his soft touch gently guide you - his thumb swiftly drying a stray tear. his hand settles on the other side of your waist, holding you in his hands. his look is all too knowing, chin dropped, fully expectant on you understanding what he was thinking - and all you can do for a moment is chuckle, wiping your cheeks. 

“you look so pretty, baby - this was made for you.” he promises, admiring the texture of the dress under his hands as he gently strokes your sides and smiles.

[spencerified]

Hiii, well, English is not my first language, sorry for that. I'm not a writer, but a big reader, so welcome to the community ^^

I was thinking about a reader who works in BAU, gets kidnapped, and for some reason the su-des was filming, and the reader is forced to confess that she like Spencer, (The whole team saw it).

As if the su-des were playing a game like truth or dare, and ended up reluctantly confessing that, the reader having a lot of confidence. If you read this and do it I would be very grateful, ily^^♡

(Can be fem!reader or g!reader, it doesn't matter, I repeat, if you read it and do it I will thank you for the rest of my life)

hiii!!! first of all thank you so much for trusting me with your request 🫶 this came out a little (a lot) longer than I thought it would but i hope it's still what you expected and that you enjoy it!! any other requests are very welcome ♡ lots of hugs for everyone

✿

"Stop."

You're relieved that your weak attempt, your last resort at trying to get the Unsub to show you mercy, makes him stop in his tracks. You still feel the ghost of the edge of a knife itching against your skin, when it was unclear if he really wanted to hurt you or if it was just an attempt at getting you to break. To get you to spill your most deepest, darkest secrets, the ones hidden within the depths of your heart. 

Hidden even from Spencer, who looks at you from (presumably) miles away, through a sketchy live transmission sent to Garcia. Untraceable, of course. He desperately wishes he could just snap his fingers and make it all go away. Every tear, every ache, every whisper of pain. Wants to build a world where you won’t know suffering ever again.

Hotch's voice when he first trained you for what Penelope called 'The Non-Fun Parts of The Job' resonates in your hazy mind. Be aware your surroundings, he said, and you wonder if he might be disappointed on the other side of the camera haphazardly propped up a few feet in front of you, it's red light mocking you with each blink.

"Why are you doing this?" You say, emitting now only a pitiful vestige of your voice which is usually never afraid to speak on anything. It seems amusing to him because seconds later, a cheshire grin blossoms in his face, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand. 

"Oh, you have no idea who I am, do you?" He says. You've never thought a person could inflict so much fear with only a look and a few words. "I don't remember you either, so no hard feelings. But the BAU has... humiliated me. Took everything I love away from me. My family, my job, my friends..." His voice grows low to the point that if you weren't so on edge, you would have to strain your ears to hear him. "They may think getting away for years feels like a reward to me, but they don't live what I live. 

Watching the TV waiting for the next time the BAU finally remembers me over the rest of the cases they have to push away to the… dusty corners of their file room because of their incompetency and decides to spread my picture all over the news once again... it's no way to live." 

The man's voice is so calm you constantly wait for the other shoe to drop. Like when you're so scared on a rollercoaster and your only option is to close your eyes and wait for the inevitable drop. It doesn't come. It seems like years of inflicting pain on others, and then years of hiding away from the consequences are an upstanding process on how to numb a person.

Spencer sees it too. He sees that this Unsub just won't lose control, and that scares him. Because someone this put together – in a rather bizarre way, wouldn't even bat an eye were he to decide on hurting you. And Spencer would have to watch it all, powerless, scribbling over and over again over his wide map spread out on the conference room's table. 

"I'm sorry..." You lie through your teeth. "That you have to live that way."

Fake empathy towards him, Hotch echoes on your head again. You must be reliving his instructions in your head as a way to keep your cool. You bite your lip so hard you fear it might bleed when you realize you're doing it. He's delusional, you reason. He thinks the BAU wanting to catch him for murdering at least 7 couples in public parks is somehow a way to wrong him. 

"Well, thank you," he says, a bitter tone bleeding into his words. "But it's not enough. Luckily for you, you know just what to do that will be." 

"I don't have any secrets," you confess. Outside of the BAU, you don't have a very interesting life. Go home, say hi to the neighbors in your building, sometimes smile at someone while shopping groceries. No burning, forbidden love affair – mostly because the only candidate you want is endearingly oblivious –, no superhero side quests that would make for an interesting conversation at lunch break with your coworkers. No skeletons in your closet, no secret vices or scandalous secrets that would obliterate your pristine reputation amongst your coworkers. Not even one involving the most important one of them. Of course not. 

"I'm sure you do. Everyone does," he circles your chair. You want to sob when you lose sight of him and feel his presence looming on the back of the chair. Not knowing when your life could potentially be taken away from you is jarring. 

"I don't," you say. You don't need to use the word 'please' for him to know that you're begging for your life. "I really don't." 

Pull yourself together, you think. This is not how a BAU agent must react when faced with a threat. But then again, you've only been here for less than a year, and maybe you just don't have it in you to keep your cool the way the rest of your team would. You take a harsh deep breath. 

Spencer has a rather uncanny ability to tune the world out. When he's engrossed in his job, his books, his facts, it's easy to lose himself on them. Specially when the only person who usually listens to him when he externalizes them is away. 

Not away, he thinks. That makes it seem like you're taking a vacation. A small voice in the back of his head wonders where would you go if you were given the chance to. Then, he remembers he might never find out if he doesn't figure this out soon. The case has the team's complete and utter attention, and he knows these are some of the best minds in the Bureau. But he still feels like it's his responsibility to figure it out; he can't help but think that it's what it's expected of him. He wonders if that expectation stems from being a prodigy, or because he's so close to you that it only makes sense it would be him. 

He feels a rush flowing through his veins when he feels like he's close to figuring it out. Then, he's harshly brought back to the reality where he hogs the conference room's table with his map and the team scatters over the rest of the room, working on who-knows-what, by a series of worrying hurried breaths of yours. 

"Okay, okay!" You say, when he roughly yanks you by the hair to keep you still. The knife you thought was previously discarded hovers over your ear. 

"One clean slash, and you'll be out like a light."

You don't find it in yourself to want to test the veracity of that theory out. 

So you realize your only shot at getting out of here might be giving him what he wants. You can't stall anymore, and one side of your brain tells you that it's your team, they'll get here in time, and the other asks itself if that might be a thing that just happens in unrealistic crime shows. 

"I..." You start. You wonder if Spencer is watching this. You would rather have every agent in the FBI hear this, all 35,000 of them, instead of him. You whimper when the knife inches closer to your skin. You can't die. Not here. Is keeping your perception of dignity worth losing your life? "I like my coworker." 

It doesn't satisfy the Unsub. "Which one?" 

You want to refuse to answer, to curl into a ball and cry until you recover the false sense of confidence you walk around with that has now been shattered. You'll get it back, eventually. Not if you die. So you toughen it up, and breathe deep. "Spencer." 

It sounds so stupid. A mere speck in the grand scheme of things, of problems and situations anyone would expect an FBI agent to have. But it's the hardest thing you've ever had to say.

And it's the hardest thing he's ever had to hear. If it were in any other situation, he wouldn't have put it past him to jump in glee. You, with your head always held high, never one to shy away from showing who you were to the world, with your gentle soul that lured him in even when he tried to keep his heart safe from rejection... You liked him. But that's not his focus right now. Even if every single train of thought in his brain has come to a catastrophic halt, he has to focus, because he can't take one more second of seeing you trying to keep calm with a knife to your throat. 

A picture of Hannah Davis, one of the victims from the original case, hung up on the wall behind you ends up giving the Unsub's whole act away. Still, it doesn't make a lot of sense for Hannah to have hung up a picture of herself in her own house, so the team splits to cover both the boyfriend's house and Hannah's. 

It's just a precautionary measure. Spencer knows exactly where you are.

"Oh, Dr. Reid. Idiots interrogated me about once or twice as a witness and he was a real boom with the ladies at the precinct back then. Let me tell you, if I had his charm, I wouldn't have had to resort to killing couples to get off." 

The Unsub lets go of your hair with no warning and your head hangs down as if you were a rag doll. You find it in yourself to hum uninterestedly at his sick attempt of joking. 

You don't think you've ever felt your heart beating as hard as it is right now. And when you tune out the sound of the man talking and rambling about God knows what, you realize that the thumping you hear in your ears isn't your heart. That maybe the creaking on the stairs isn't a product of your delirious mind conjuring up a sequence where you magically get saved from the bad guy.

You sigh when the man behind you yanks you back again. This time, you feel the need to put on a facade. Make it look like you’ve come to terms with it; if this is how you go, then so be it. The knife on your throat makes your heart rate pick back up, but you don't whimper. You wonder if you're trying to keep it together for yourself or because you are ashamed of the image your team will have of you after this if you don't.  

You hear Morgan kick the door down. Usually, you're on the other side of this. You help talk an Unsub down, and then make fun of Morgan after for kicking the door instead of opening it like a civilized FBI agent. Talking them down doesn't always work. Sometimes, you end up with another casualty added to the case. In the worst outcome, you end up with two more. You're not as unafraid as you thought. Please, God, you think. This cannot be the end. 

Morgan screaming at the Unsub to put the knife down falls in deaf ears. It's only white noise to you now, and maybe that stems from the fact that you have been held hostage for what felt like days with no food, no water, no sun, and you feel so close to it being over. Soon, you'll be on a hospital bed, eating food that only the thought of makes you feel nauseated but even that is better than this. Maybe Spencer will sneak you a treat. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. 

As you're dwelling on what the consequences of him potentially hearing your confession might be, you hear a gun go off. You don't even react when the pressure exerted on the right side of your neck, the weight of the arm holding you in place suddenly fades away as your head falls forward. 

You hear the thud of a body hit the ground. Maybe we can still be friends, you try to reason. Spencer drops his smoking gun to a side as Morgan tries to untie your hands behind your back. Maybe he'll reciprocate, or is that too much of a delusion to have even in your incoherent state? Spencer holds you in his arms when you have nothing pushing you back against the chair anymore. 

"I'm sorry," you sob into his shoulder, not an ounce of strength remaining in your body. You were not made for this. Not made for withstanding this kind of torment. If you mean the torment of being kidnapped, or the torment that awaits you once you're not hysterically sobbing in front of the man you're not ready to admit you love, you're not sure. "I'm so sorry." 

"Hey," he says, tenderly. You don't know how much time it's gone by since the last time you saw him. The only thing you know is that this kind of gentleness is now unfamiliar after harsh hands engraved themselves all over you. "Hey, it's okay. What are you sorry for?" 

"I'm sorry," you say, worn out, the words echoing around your head like a DVD screensaver. You then register his question. "For saying that." 

You don't specify what. It's not necessary; it never has been with Spencer. Somehow, you both know exactly what the other means, with just a glance, a brush of an arm when somehow you find yourself trapped in his orbit once again. 

"It's alright," is it? Part of him wonders if being with you might have become even more unattainable now than it was before. If you'll push him away because the memory of the circumstances of your confession is too painful to bear. His hand hovers in the air before he finds a moment where he feels like you won't get up and run away from him if he touches you. You shudder, but ultimately stay right where you are. "Don't cry. You're okay." 

Are we okay? You have to ask. But maybe right now is not the moment. Maybe right now all you want is to be held before everything goes down the drain. You've hit rock bottom, and everyone probably sees it too. Spencer just wishes you find it in your heart to let him be the one to help you out of there. You don't need to yell for help if you have him – the most minuscule mutter of your burdens will be enough to have him snapping into action. He knows what it's like to give every sign that you could ever think of and still have them ignored. He isn't about to let you go through that. 

"We're going to go home now, yeah?" You nod. When you come to it, your fingers ache from holding onto his shirt so hard you want to apologize to him in case you had hurt him. You don't find the words. The rise and fall of his chest had lulled you into the deepest, calmest sleep you have managed to get in a while, even before the kidnapping happened at all, and in this moment, you almost swear that it'll all be okay. 

When you wake up, there's a steady hold in your hand as the ambulance rocks back and forth. 

"God, they need to get that street fixed," you say. You don't recognize your voice, the rasp in your throat being the only thing to confirm that it is indeed you speaking. It takes you a moment to realize that the hand that holds yours firmly is Spencer's. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared to look at him. What would his expression be like? Disgust? Perhaps Morgan made him ride with you until they got to the ambulance. Perhaps he offered to do so because he wanted to do something nice for you before he completely tore your heart to shreds by saying he doesn't like you back. Perhaps-

"We're almost there." The way his voice manages to shut every deprecating thought in your head should be studied. As a reflex, you turn your head to look at him. You wish you hadn't, because the way he looks at you like you're a masterpiece – a rather flawed one, even if he doesn't think so, isn't helping the ache in your chest. Your first thought is that it's awe, but then you think you might want to get that get that checked out when you get to the hospital. 

You barely notice his hand shifting around yours, until it holds your wrist, his thumb pressed softly but firm against your pulse point. He can probably feel the way your heart quickens when he leans in to take a look at your face. 

"Does the light hurt your eyes?" You nod, sluggishly. He turns over to look at the paramedic who sits next to you. You feel a little bit of relief at the fact that no one's hovering over you. It means you're okay. It's all minor. And mostly psychological. Spencer starts listing studies and tests they apparently need to run on you, and while you love the way he rambles, you don't think you can keep up with him without getting a stroke in the process right now.

You doze off again. God, you needed that. You hadn't closed your eyes for more than a couple of seconds during all of your stay in that house. Stay. You don't know what else to call it. 

Emily stayed with you while they checked you out and in her words, it was like you were moving on autopilot. It was unnerving, but the doctors had informed her that there was nothing wrong besides a couple of nasty bruises you would have to spend extra concealer on. 

Spencer offered to stay overnight. One can only imagine how unsettling it was for him to lift his head from his book to see you sitting up like a spring at 2:45 am. 

"Hi," he says, his voice a hushed breath as he sits on the edge of your bed, smiling awkwardly at you. There's no one else in the room, but it's like if any of you speaks louder than a whisper, the bubble you're in will burst. Your chest heaves with hurried breaths, and you rub your eyes.

"Hey." You're already dreading this conversation. Is there any way to go back to before you were kidnapped and forced to confess you're in love with your best friend/coworker? Anyhow, you don't want to stay in the dark anymore and hurry to speak directly to the point. "I don't want things to be weird between us." 

"We haven't even talked for a minute, what do you mean?" 

You let out a short, humorless laugh, which could be easily just interpreted as a hum. You scramble over the clutter that is your mind right now to find a topic that will help you evade the awkwardness. "... Why are you still awake?" 

He didn't expect you to ask that, if the way his gaze drifts to the side is anything to go by. 

"The book was very... interesting, to say the least," he blatantly lies. You don't know if he's a bad liar or if you're just an expert in the Spencer Reid sciences. 

"I'm sure it was." 

You don't speak for a minute. A minute and 33 seconds, he counts, and you're heading strong for a second one when his voice breaks the uncomfortable atmosphere. 

"Listen, I..." 

"I know you heard it." Everyone probably did. And it'll be less humiliating if you act like you don't wish you could just crawl out of your skin and hide. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to die." 

"I'm glad you said it." 

You don't know if he's glad you said it because otherwise you would have probably bled out before they even got to the house or because the fog that used to sit atop of whatever weird tension you both seemed to develop whenever you were the last ones in the conference room, paired to interview a witness, or sharing the big couch on the jet, is finally cleared up. 

You can't lie and say you're not relieved you did, too.

"I'm glad too," you say, mostly to yourself. Where do you go from here? Spencer knows a lot of things, none of which seem useful at the moment. He's almost tempted to bring Morgan in for moral support; otherwise, he's about to perform the worst ridicule he's ever had the pleasure to star in. 

You wait for him to speak. He doesn't, and instead stares at the bedsheets that look like their sole existence is an offense by the way his brow creases. 

"You look like something's bothering you," you say, tentatively testing the waters. Can you already joke with him, or is it too soon to pretend like everything's okay? "Is it not a nice pattern?" 

He smiles for a split second. You didn't realize the air had been lacking from your lungs until this very second. "The pattern is geometrically off. If you look at it closely, you'll see that the diamonds aren't quite aligned properly. It seems minor, yet it's still evident enough to unconsciously make the pattern less appealing to the eyes. I suppose that's what you get with mass-produced and machine-made products nowadays."

You smile warmly at him. Only then it's that your chest tightens as the realization of just how much you missed just hearing him talk about things that would have never even crossed your mind in a thousand years, dawns upon you.

"Sorry. I forgot my magnifying glass at home." 

"I see you didn't left the wit back there." You smile at him. It feels foreign. Just a second ago you were avoiding looking at him like the mere action of doing so would make you burst into flames on the spot. Your smile is like fuel for the burning courage consuming his insides as he opens his mouth again. "I... I think- No, sorry. I mean, I am certain that..." Okay, Spencer. Great way to start. He tries to gather his thoughts, which proves to be a much harder challenge when they're all a jumbled mess. 

"You like your coworker too?" 

"Yeah," he says. His lips curl into a warm, genuine smile that does wonders at speaking of the deep affection that harbors in the depths of his soul. One only reserved for you. He's quick to repress it because he doesn't want to seem stupid. 

You don't let him throw you off your feet. "Dr. Reid, can you wait until I don't feel and look like a bus just ran over me to confess your unconditional and undying love for me?" 

He wouldn't have expected a different answer from you. The confidence you wear on the outside is a mask for the way he makes you melt like a bar of chocolate in warm weather on the inside. You don't need him to answer to that. He touches your hair, and you turn to look at the bag of skittles placed on the bedside table, and you know he'll gladly wait until you don't feel like you've been stripped of all your defenses. Until you feel like yourself again. 

[samkerrworshipper]

sticker chart | kyra cooney cross & reader x arsenal women’s team

r and kyra r the pranksters of the team… but what happens when they take it too far and the arsenal parents seperate them as a result

no warnings just some fluff angst and chaotic bestfriend energy

“Kyra, Y/n, time out, right now.”

It was Steph’s burst of anger that had your eyes bursting open, both you and Kyra sharing an apprehensive glance. The both of you looked up from your current predicament, which was the drink bottle that you’d just emptied onto Alessia’s head. Her jaw was almost on the ground, and her body was shaking already from the cold water.

In a split second telepathic decision you and Kyra made the decision to bolt, sprinting away from the training ground and your teammates as fast as possible, the both of you cackling as you made it into the safety of the London Colney gym, running as fast as possible into the team room and the both of you searching for a hiding spot.

“In the cupboard.”

Kyra motioned towards the cupboard in the corner of the gym, the long rectangular cupboard being just large enough for the two of you, so you squeezed into it, just closing the door in time to hear a series of footsteps running towards the gym.

The both of you held your breath, holding in the laughs that were building up in the bottom of your stomach.

The two of you were trouble. Always setting up pranks and getting on the nerves on your senior babysitters. Majority of your pranks were centred around Vic and Alessia, the two of you taking advantage of the younger, innocent girls who were so easy to target. It got you in a lot of trouble, especially with Steph, Caitlin, Kim, Leah and Viv, who were stretched thin trying to stop whatever menacing plans that you and your best friend were plotting.

It was a pointless task, the two of you were unstoppable, and always finding yourselves in trouble. It had gotten to a point where you’d been separated indefinitely in training, and the two of you were on your last chance at Steph’s house, being told that the next time you shaved her dog in the middle of the night or woke her and her fiance up with screaming noises. The two of you for whatever reason just couldn’t stop, you were invincible in the world of pranks and it was completely destructive to the Arsenal community, no one was safe.

The both of you bit down on the insides of your cheeks as you heard the doors to the gym open, and a pitter patter of cleats tapping against the floor of the gym.

“The both of you have three seconds before all of your tv privileges and cheat days are taken away for the next month.”

You shook your head at Kyra, whos eyes bursted open at the mention of the removal of your cheat days, Kyra, for whatever reason, had been craving deep fried chicken and a icecream sundae. It was weird, and normally every Thursday you had a cheat day, so her craving could be relieved, but last Thursday the video review, for whatever reason, had gone over by two hours, so by the time it was over it was far past the time window of getting food, leaving a very grumpy and hangry Kyra who was desperate for the foodher body was craving.

Cheat days were her weakness, so you pulled her hand down before she had the opportunity to open the cupboard doors and reveal your hiding spot to Steph.

“1.”

Kyra’s body shook against your own, her bones jumping inside of her body in an attempt to try and leave the box that you’d inserted yourself.

“I swear to god if I get to three and neither of you are out here I’m calling mini and Sam.”

That was definitely another weakness for the two of you, the both of you slightly terrified of the idea of your seconds moms getting a call about your less than adequate behaviour.

“2.”

Steph’s voice loitered, she was leaving room for the two of you to come out.

You were stubborn, Kyra was not, you fought to keep her from fighting her way out of the cupboard, but it was a losing battle, that had the two of you tumbling out of the wooden box and leaving you completely vulnerable to Steph, who marched her way over to the two of you immediately.

“I’ve had enough of you two today, your going to go to the lockerooms, sit in your cubby for twenty five minutes and think about your fucking behaviour before you go and apologise to Vic and Less, am I clear?”

With Steph’s towering form above you, neither of you were in any position to refuse, so you just nodded like kicked puppies and picked yourselves up from the floor, dragging your feet towards the locker rooms, your bodies slowly moving like prisoners walking into a jail.

When you got to the locker rooms, the both of you walked over to your respective cubbies, sitting down and facing the wall.

It was a fairly common occurrence for you two, you spent probably eighty percent of all your time at London Colney besides training in your cubby, at least one training a fortnight saw you here, if not more. You didn’t really mind, it was worth it considering all the fun you and Kyra got up too.

Replacing Leah’s shampoo bottle with pink hair dye, stealing all of the girls clothes whilst they were in the showers, tying everybody's cleats together, mixing up all of the jerseys in the laundry room, replacing the water jugs with apple cider vinegar, replacing all the name tags on the secret santa gifts, taking Alessia’s beloved car for a joyride, showing up to training on moon boots and crutches, faking running away.

The list was endless, concerningly. It got you into trouble, for sure, but for you guys it was some light hearted fun, your way of keeping yourselves entertained in a foreign country that was still new to you.

You could hear Kyra thinking from the other side of the room, out of the two of you she was the more remorseful one, but she was also the plotter and cheekier one. You ran along with whatever she came up with, and your commitment to whatever plan she had was unmatched, once you decided you were doing something you committed.

“Kyra for fucks sakes stop the tapping.”

It was driving you insane, listening to Kyra’s fingers tapping against the wall of her cubby, one of her anxious habits.

“Time out is silent time, speak up again and I’ll start the timer over.”

You tried to block out Steph’s voice, but it hung over you like a big grey cloud, your brain silently drowning itself in your skull as you studied the uniform wall that was the inside of your cubby. It was exceptionally boring, and it didn’t seem to matter how many times the two of you found yourselves in this situation, it was still as boring as ever.

You listened out for people coming in and out of the locker rooms, the door swinging open and the sound of studs against concrete. You weren’t rewarded with the sound of voices or conversation, everyone who filtered in being silent. It was hard to monitor who was coming in and out with your vision completely compromised.

You sat as still as you could manage, not at all wanting to have to sit for any longer than what Steph had already ordered you.

You didn’t doubt that she would reset the timer if you did speak up again, Steph was a softie, but she never let up on a promise, especially when it came to taking care of you and Kyra, something that you knew she was getting sick of, the both of you toeing the line constantly.

It did get you thinking, sure a harmless prank was fun, Katie was the biggest supporter of your pranks, always egging the two of you on from the sidelines, and yet she never got in trouble for it, it was always you and Kyra, the troublesome duo that had been adopted by the Arsenal parents.

“Both of you, turn around.”

You took a deep breath, shuffling around on your ass and blinking to adjust to the bright lights that were a vast contrast to the darkness of the corner of your cubby.

You were rewarded with the sight of Steph, Caitlin, Viv, Kim and Leah all with their jaws set and looking at you with significant disapproval. Alessia and Vic were loitering at their own lockers, sitting in the seats in front of them their hands and heads pointing down towards their laps.

“We’re sorry?”

Steph’s frown only managed to deepen, it was clear that she was nothing short of furious.

“You’re sorry? The two of you have single handedly pulled a series of completely destructive pranks that have taken it too far. Do I need to bring up the chalk spray paint on Manu’s car? Or the midnight door knocking at Stina and Amanda’s house? We’ve all given you chances, all enabled you to have a little bit of fun, but you’ve pushed it way past the point of funny.”

Kyra just closed in on herself, you had a little bit more fight in you, a little bit more defiance.

“We didn’t even do anything that bad today.”

Steph’s eyebrows rose even more than you thought humanly possible.

“That’s a joke right?”

You bit your lip, tossing up the day's events in your mind.

“I mean I don’t understand why Vic is here to be honest, Lessi whatever but we didn’t do anything to Vic.”

Steph blinked at you, her jaw almost dropping to the floor.

“So throwing Vic’s shoes on the roof of the building was nothing?”

You snorted as you recalled Kyra and your happenings of the mornings, which had included tossing a pair of Vic’s shoes on the roof, not to say that you didn’t get them down when the time came around for her to need them.

“We gave them back?”

This time it wasn’t Steph who answered your question, Caitlin stood up from her seat Walking closer towards you.

“You should be fucking glad you did. Look, I understand, you guys are young and you like to have fun, but it constantly being at the expense of everyone else is getting annoying, and neither of you have made any motions to stop or even begin to think about how your fucking pranks affect everybody else, Steph is stressed out of her mind having to babysit the two of you twenty four seven, we all are.”

You could feel the conversation leading somewhere, Kyra’s puppy dog eyes were pleading with Caitlin but her tough guy act didn’t fade.

“I’m getting the feeling that this is leading to something and I just want to put it out there that I dibs anywhere but Chelsea if we have to move clubs.”

Caitlin just rolled her eyes at your attempt at humour, it was humour hidden behind genuine fear, because there was no way in fucking hell you were trading breezy arsenal for Sammy’s Chelsea, where you knew she would drill sergeant you and Kyra into being boring and non pranksters.

“You know what we all have every right to send you off to Sam, how do you think she’d react hearing about all the shit that the two have you have gotten up to?”

She’d probably go ballistic. She’d gotten a taste of you and Kyra’s trouble making at the women's world cup and had very quickly put a stop to it, nipping it in the bud before it got to your current spiral.

“But you aren’t?”

You noticed from the corner of your eye that Kyra was looking very stressed from her corner of the room.

“Ky, come here.”

You opened up your arms to your best friend, unbothered as to whether or not you were disrupting Caitlin’s spiel, you were just worried about your friend. She slid her way across the benches until she made it to your side, digging her head into your neck and shoulder.

“No, we’re not, but honestly I think you’d prefer to stay with Sam then what you’re going to be dealing with.”

You visibly cringed, there wasn’t a lot of things that were worse than being in Sam’s bad books. You let your eyes flash across to the other captains and women who were in the room, aware that they were probably a part of whatever plot Caitlin and Steph had formed. Your curiosity peaked as you squinted at Caitlin, your anxiety spiking a little bit.

“W-what do you mean?”

Kyra’s voice quivered from your neck, her soft puppy dog pout hopefully doing wonders to convince the older women to back out of whatever they had planned. It was her signature move, and you were fairly sure that Steph would see through it, but there was always a point in trying.

“You’re both moving out of Steph’s, it’s not fair to her anymore to be burdened with the both of you. So Kyra, your going to Leah and Lia, Y/n you are staying with Beth and Viv.”

Your jaw slackened, Kyra jerking up in your arms as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What? You can’t separate us, we’re like conjoined twins, we’ll like die if you separate us.”

Caitlin kept up her stern facade, leaving zero room for vulnerability.

“You should have thought about that before you chose to take it too far. We’ve given you plenty of chances and you blew every single one off. So until the two of you can learn how to cohabitate without causing serious danger to the people around you, you’ll be separated. Beth and Lia have already been over to Steph’s house and collected your things. You both have sticker charts, when the two of you can go a whole two months without any seriously debilitating pranks then we’ll look at potentially letting the two of you move back in together.”

Kyra’s eyes lit up at the mention of a sticker chart, you were focused on your dignity, so even if the idea of shiny gold stickers did appeal to you, you tried to fight it.

“A fucking sticker chart? We’re not fucking six year olds and last time I checked this is a free country, so who says that you guys can control who and where we live anyway?”

This time it was Kim who stood up, intimidating both you and Kyra slightly.

“You’re acting like bloody six year olds. Last time I checked neither of you own apartments, neither of you have earned that kind of responsibility. So you are going to suck it up, your going home with a trusted adult and if you even try to pull anymore of the shit you’ve been pulling for the last few months there will be calls to Sam and Minnie who I have no doubt will have a lot more to say. Am I clear?”

Kyra and you nodded deftly, the both of you taken aback by Kim’s sterness.

“Do we get gold star stickers?”

You rolled your eyes at Kyra’s question, her big doe eyes peaking out of your neck to look at Kim.

“You can have whatever fucking stickers you like, I doubt they’ll be any need for them any time soon considering just how much trouble seems to find the two of you.”

You and Kyra played the pitiful act as you were led away by your respective caregivers, faux tears falling down your faces as Leah and Viv practically dragged you in the direction of their cars.

As soon as the car doors closed though and the babysitters were focusing their energy on the roads though, the two of you were already texting, plotting your next move in retaliation to the banishment that had the two of you grounded to Viv and Leah’s homes.

———————————————————————

notes:

thinking of turning this into a series of kyra and t just being completely chaotic besties so lmk how we feel about that !

[littleocean-rose]

Our Little Star

Summary: While walking on the way to a pet store to look for a kitten you want to adopt, you trace your hand over your soulmate tattoo on your wrist, the black ink reading one little word on your skin. Byeol. You stare at it, like you’ve done countless times in your life, wondering if you’ll ever meet your soulmate one day.

AU: non-idol, soulmate Pairings: Choi San x reader Warnings: none Word count: 2.1k

A/N: words cannot describe how many people I would kill for Byeol. I love her, I adore, I want to hold and kiss her, she is the most precious baby out there. San I love you but I WILL steal your cat. (jk I’m stealing you both-)

The world was full of different ways for people to meet their soulmate.

Some had it easy. Seeing each other in their dreams, able to communicate their names and location to the other. Dreamers had it the easiest by far, followed by Inkers. Inkers had the ability to communicate to their soulmate by writing on their skin, the words and marks appearing on the others’ skin, allowing them to write down names and numbers and locations. Visionaries were the third lucky ones, getting to see a glimpse of what their soulmate was seeing every now and then, taking in the scenery of where they were, what they were doing.

Others weren’t so lucky. Stringers had that little red thread attached to their pinkies, leading them to their soulmate, but never knowing how close they were to them. For all they knew, that little red string could run across an entire continent or over an ocean. All they knew was what direction their soulmate was in. Phrasers and Tattooists also had it hard. They could go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate, hoping to find someone with a matching tattoo, or listening desperately for the words that matched the ink on their skin. Colorists were among that class, too—their world monotone and grey until they finally laid eyes upon their soulmate, their world suddenly bursting into color the moment they found their other half.

Then there were the unlucky ones. Counters, those with timers on their wrists, were ones you always felt bad for. While some times Counters had their timers counting down until the moment they met their soulmate, others had timers that counted down until the moment their soulmate died. There were those who felt their soulmate’s pain, or shared the same wounds as them. Those who bloomed flowers from their skin, flowers that matched the emotions of what their soulmate was feeling. Signs you did in fact have a soulmate but were never given any indication of how they would know they even met them.

You were in the class of Phrasers, your soulmate mark being the first thing you would hear your soulmate say. Some had whole sentences, but you? You had a single word. Byeol. You remembered when you were a child how you obsessed over the word, looking up the definition and seeing it was of Korean origin. So growing up, you learned to speak Korean, studying it every moment you could, until you were fluent in it by the age of thirteen. Your parents encouraged you, just as eager as you to meet your soulmate, and when you hit the age of eighteen, they tearfully drove you to the airport so you could catch your flight to South Korea.

While they supported your decision, they still were sad to see you leaving to live in another country.

It wasn’t like you didn’t visit—you did every chance you could, which was usually every other year, but you were still their only child, and they missed always seeing you in person.

But here you were, nearly seven years later, and you still hadn’t met your soulmate. While it did dampen your spirits, you decided to stop trying so hard to find them. Not because you were quitting and giving up on the idea, no. What was the point of stressing over it? You’d leave it to Fate—if you found them, hey, great! If not, then, well, that didn’t mean you couldn’t start a romance with someone else.

You glanced down at the word again, fingers tracing over the ink as you walked into the pet store. You had recently moved into a new apartment so you could be closer to your job, and you were beyond ecstatic to discover it was a pet friendly home. Wasting no time, you had run out of the house first thing after breakfast on your day off to get yourself a new little companion. While you were originally planning to get one from a shelter, it was on the other side of the city, and you didn’t feel up for the long journey.

Instantly you went to the pets section, face lighting up at the cute animals in their enclosures. You went by the birds, taking a moment to admire their pretty plumage and beautiful songs, and then past the fluffy bunnies. You passed by mice next, stopping to watch them run through their little tubes, and then stopped to watch one of the hamsters run on his wheel. Of course you had to stop and look at the puppies, cooing at how adorable they were, watching them tumble over each other as they played. You had thought about getting a puppy, but in the end you just couldn’t pass up the idea of getting a kitten.

Which was why you were now in front of the cat enclosures. You took the time to look over each cat, aww-ing over their adorable little faces and fuzzy paws that reached out past the bars of their cages. There were some adult cats, a pretty calico catching your eye as you walked by, and then a cute tabby who seemed hyped on caffeine as he bounced off the walls, smacking around one of his toys and making you laugh. Then you reached the kitten area, and your heart melted.

They were at different stages of growth, some bordering on young teen, while others still seemed to wobble a little as they stood. One kitten in particular caught your eye. It was a siamese, large blue eyes staring up at you as it rolled over on its back with a long stretch and yawn, having just woke up from its nap.

One of the employees approached you, a wide smile pulling at his lips. You glanced at his name tag. Wooyoung. “Hello! Did you see someone you wanted to go say hi to?”

You nodded, pointing at the little siamese kitten. “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

The employee nodded. “Yeah, of course! Let me take you in.” Another employee passed the two of you, tall and blonde as he approached another customer that had also been looking at the cat display. You followed Wooyoung to the door where he unlocked it, letting you to get a closer look at the cats. As you entered, a barrage of mewls filled the room, and you couldn’t help but coo at how adorable they all sounded. “Hey guys, we have a visitor! Be on your best behaviors, okay?” Another series of meows filled the air, making the employee grin. “Anyway, go right on ahead and take a look! I’ll be right here to answer any questions you have!”

You thanked Wooyoung, starting with the cages at the back first. You heard the door open again, glancing over to see that same tall employee from earlier enter. “Hey, Yunho! Oh, another person interested in getting a– oh, it’s you again!” You tuned out their conversation, putting all your focus on the cats before you. An orange tabby, curled up into a ball, softly chittered in its sleep, and you nearly had to bite your fist from cooing as to not wake it up from its dream.

You looked over each cat, making your way slowly back to the siamese from earlier, until finally you were standing before its cage. It meowed softly at you, kneading the soft pillow it was sitting on. “She’s only been here a week, that one. She was left at our door in the middle of the night with her siblings in a box. The others have all found homes, she’s the only one left now.”

“Aww, that’s sad. At least they weren’t left on the side of the road or something,” you murmured. Wooyoung nodded.

“Yeah, I’m glad we could find them all good homes.” You heard quiet murmuring from behind you, the employee Yunho talking to his customer. Wooyoung gave a hum. “If you had to name her, what name would you give?”

You thought for a second, looking back into her big blue eyes. You swore you could see stars in her eyes, a hint of a pink galaxy, and one word came to mind. You smiled softly.

“Byeol.”

“Byeol.”

Your eyes widened, turning around to the other person who had uttered the word. Your focus landed on the other customer, his expression full of shock just like yours. At the same time you both looked down at your wrists, and with a quiet gasp you noticed that your soulmate tattoo was now red. This was him. This was your soulmate. After years of searching, you had finally found him.

You locked eyes with him, taking in his features as he did the same with you. His eyes reminded you of a cat’s, and at the corners of his excited smile were two adorable little dimples that you couldn’t look away from. His hair was pink, and you wondered if that had been the pink you had seen reflected in the kitten’s eyes earlier. You never thought you’d find someone who could rock pink hair so well, and it seemed you were proven wrong in the best way.

“Hi,” he breathed, smile growing, turning his eyes into cute little crescents. It was an absolutely adorable sight, your heart doing a little flip at it. You were sure your cheeks were a light pink, matching his, and you barely registered the fact that Wooyoung and Yunho were quietly squealing to themselves while watching the two of you.

“Hi,” you replied, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. “So, Byeol, huh?”

The male grinned, chuckling lightly as he looked over at the kitten. “Yeah, I swear I saw stars in her eyes.”

“Me too…” You faded off, and the male sheepishly scratched at his neck.

“Sorry. San, my name is Choi San.” He held his hand out to you, and you spotted the red tattoo on his inner wrist. Byeol. You smiled again, taking his hand, noting how small and soft it was, and how perfectly yours fit in it.

You gave him your name, his eyes lighting up. “What a pretty name,” he murmured, cheeks flushing at realizing he said that out loud. You laughed, finding his behavior sweet, warmth blooming in your chest at knowing you’d probably get along with San just fine. He cleared his throat, motioning to the kitten. “Since you’re adopting her, I am demanding visiting rights.”

Amused, you fought down another smile, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Demanding visiting rights?”

“That’s correct. I’ve had my eye on that little baby since yesterday, but it seems you unfortunately beat me to adopting her. So, therefore, I am demanding visiting rights.”

You gave a thoughtful hum, pretending to think over the decision. You could see San trying to fight down a smile as well, loving how you were playing along. You tapped your chin in thought. “Hm, I think I can allow that. How does Thursday sound?”

“Perfect,” he answered. He pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “I’m going to need your contact information to know where the visiting rights will be held, and how to get ahold of you for said visits.”

You held out your phone for him to take as you took his. “Of course.” The both of you exchanged contact information, handing each other back your phones, and you couldn’t fight off the smile any more. “San, it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

“It really has been. I’m so glad I decided to wait until today to come back for Byeol.” He offered you a shy smile. “I’ll… text you later, then…?”

“Please, any time you want.” Your fingers traced over your tattoo. “I’ll see you Thursday the, Mister Choi. With Byeol in tow, of course.”

He laughed, the sound like music to your ears, and you decided you wanted to spend the rest of your life listening to it. He rubbed at his neck again, your eyes flickering over and spotting the smattering of freckles along his skin. Everything about him was so cute. “Alright then. I’ll see you Thursday.” San gave you a little wave as he left the room, and you waved back, watching him leave until he was out of sight. As you gave a happy sigh, the two employees beside you gave quiet squeals.

“Oh my god we must be matchmakers, I have never seen two soulmates meet before in my life!”

“That was so cute, I wanted to scream! You two are so cute!” You blushed at their words, ducking your head as you gave a shy laugh, thanking them. Wooyoung cooed over the moment a little longer before finally moving on to the adoption process for Byeol.

As you walked out the store with your new little friend, you found yourself smiling as you looked at the notification on your phone.

Sannie Hey~

Sannie Be careful with the little star now! She’s our fragile little baby after all!

You shook your head with a laugh.

You couldn’t wait until Thursday came around.

A/N: heeey! Don't worry, I'm still working on Guardians! It's just longer than I expected it to be, and motivation to write has been a little low lately. But! Here's my first tumblr post! Hope it was alright, please leave some feedback if you liked it!

Thank you, have a good night/day everyone! ♡

[finelythreadedsky]

wait i think actually madeline miller's circe is the heir to margaret atwood's penelopiad, unintentionally, in the way it thematizes the impossibility of real solidarity among women.

bc it's such a major part of the penelopiad how penelope creates what she thinks is a real community, a sort of family, with these young women in her household only be to reminded and continue to reinforce that they are slaves over whom she (among others) holds the power of life and death. and penelope ultimately does not or cannot hold a lasting grudge against odysseus on their behalf. she aligns herself, or circumstances force her to align herself, with odysseus instead of with other women whose positions are even more dangerous than hers. the world they live in does not allow solidarity between women across lines of class and enslavement, and penelope is also complicit in maintaining that world and her place in it.

and then the thing i found so frustrating about circe was that at every turn miller forecloses the possibility of real connections between women-- but the thing in this world that prevents that is just, like, jealousy over men. and totally needlessly. the other nymphs are prettier. glaucus loves scylla and not circe. her mom never liked her. hermes doesn't really think she's hot. athena is a rival for odysseus' attention. and the book doesn't do anything with this, it's not due to structural power imbalances or a society built on enslavement or even how patriarchy pits women against each other (circe lives alone on an island outside of society that could be another writer's lesbian separatist utopia!), it's just that circe doesn't like other women and they don't like her. end of story.

much as i don't love what atwood does with helen, it does make sense in the context of the penelopiad! thematically and in terms of characterization. atwood's penelope has internalized this idea of what it means to be a good woman and, willingly or not, she's staked everything on being seen by men as a good woman. it makes sense that she's desperately trying to pull herself up or even just cling to what little she has by dragging other women down. she does to helen what she ultimately does to the maids. she's with and for odysseus, always, not helen, and not the maids. that's the kind of world she lives in, and while she likes to think that she's resisting it with a sort of radical female community, in the end she is its agent. even if she feels bad about it. she's here to tell a story about odysseus, not about the girls he killed.

[cyberfox123]

The silent Princesses

HEY, it's me. I dragged her into this so Imma help my homie show her idea. Warning for spoilers - Mai))

For Chapter 1, the Scarecrow is the result of Larry (the Player) proceeding to the cabin, but not going down into the basement. Instead, you linger on the first floor, ignoring the Narrator's insistence. The Princess can hear you enter the cabin, but nothing more. She will Try to scream to see who it is. Taunt her from where you are, you probably get the Nightmare. But stay utterly silent, and she will become desperate. She will scream, plead, threaten, but say nothing. Eventually, the world ends. And you move onto

Chapter 2: The Scarecrow. You wake up In the woods again, with either the Contrarian or another voice (idk), and you proceed to the cabin as you do. The interior now looks like a barn, hay everywhere, with the only thing of note is a barrel with the blade on it. Take it down with you to the wooden hay-covered basement, and you will meet the princess, who looks different (not like you knew what she looked like). Her most notable feature are stitching across her mouth, silencing her, as well as stray sticking out of parts of her body, like a scarecrow. You can slay her with the knife, but her body starts to burn, and the flammable things around you trapped you inside with her. OR you give her the knife, and she will cut her stitches free and pleads, in a quiet voice, to set her free. Her cuff is loose because she is straw and you can help her get out, where she is taken by the hands. Without the knife, you can't free her. Only talk to her to try and figure out what she wants. If you grew impatient and decided to leave her, or get the knife from upstairs, smog will burst from her body, choking you and making you faint/died (this will give you Paranoid for

Chapter 3) But if you managed to communicate with her, you can set her free, but you have to rip her arm off to do it. She looked in pain, but with no mouth, she can't scream. When you reached to grab her, the Princess, still in pain, grabs her now limp arm and whacked you with it. Fight back or not will determine if you get Voice of the Stubborn or Cheated in Chapter 3. ((I would talk about Chapter 3 but imma wait for her to finish on that. Hope you like her ideas!

Thanks to my friend for helping with the writing part. 😄

[dyns33]

Feeling rainy

Another Dream x female reader 

      “Honey, you look cloudy today. No, rainy."

     "I confirm, he is very rainy at the moment."

     "Matthew. Leave us."

     "Right away, boss. But I'm sick of being wet all the time when I fly in the Dreaming, thank you very much."

It had taken a little time, but during their relationship, Y/N had acquired several certainties about Morpheus, especially about his mood.

The master of nightmares was not very good at expressing his feelings. Mainly because he didn't always know them himself. Partly because he was stupid and not very good with people.

His emotions were like a storm inside him. And therefore, a storm inside the Dreaming, especially when he was nervous, angry or sad.

Happy or neutral sentiments were preferable, with the sky remaining blue, the sun lighting up the whole realm, and the wind seeming to sing melodies.

 Sometimes it was a little too hot, when he was in love and excited, but that was no big deal. Also, it never lasted very long.

Like the weather, Morpheus' mood was changing very quickly, and very easily.

And even though he was doing his best to hide his feelings behind a straight face, the Dreaming never left any doubt that something was bothering him.

     "Is it because of last night ?" Y/N asked calmly.

     "I don't wish to talk about it, love."

     "Not even to please me ? I don't like it when you rain, especially because of me."

     "... It's not because of you. I probably overreacted."

     "Kind of like always, darling, but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. Do you want a hug ?"

     "... Maybe."

The tall, terrible prince of the stories certainly didn't like being seeing as weak, but when Dream was in Y/N's arms, he looked like a cat desperately trying not to purr with pleasure, totally at her mercy.

It wasn't a problem since they were alone, but dreams and nightmares guessed what was going on, as the clouds disappeared and a rainbow formed over their heads.

     "She has to cuddle him all the time."

     "Hush."

     "Merv is right. I may be his more or less emotional raven, but he clearly needs her as an emotional human."

     "Get out of my library."

All of this could have gone quite well, since Y/N had managed to decode the functioning of the Dreaming, and therefore of Dream, but sometimes he was visibly lost and upset by her emotions, not knowing how to help her, and beginning to feel them with her.

Which was not a good thing, for him, nor for his kingdom.

Y/N therefore asked for advice around her, knowing that it was useless to ask Morpheus directly. Morpheus never really answered questions. That being said, his subjects weren't necessarily better for it.

Lucienne, loyal intelligent Lucienne advised her to speak to the Lord, as communication was important, although she had to be careful how she wanted to express what she wanted to say, as the Lord could misunderstand things.

Merv and Matthew thought that they should say nothing and just cover him with kisses and compliments so that he would always be happy. Because everyone wanted him to be happy, and everyone loved rainbows.

The Corinthian had a different opinion.

     "You have to do exactly like him." he declared with three huge smiles.

     "What do you mean, like him ?"

     "You want to help him by doing anything so that he doesn't get overwhelmed by emotions ? So don't show any emotion yourself. Keep them inside, act neutral, use a monotonous voice, express your love with ridiculously complicated little sentences, and it will be perfect."

Normally, it would have been strongly discouraged to listen to a nightmare. But despite their bickering, the Corinthian was arguably one of the creations that knew Morpheus best, so Y/N thought it wasn't a bad idea.

After all, Dream was a bit like a sponge. Absorbing all the dreamers' hopes, fears, desires, emotions, and though he was a separate being who felt distinctly, he couldn't completely cut himself off from the rest of the world.

So it seemed logical that he was sometimes troubled by others, and therefore by Y/N, with whom he spent the most time.

It didn't cost much to imitate him. It wasn't necessarily easy, but she could do it, for him, so it wouldn't be rainy or stormy too often.

So she trained in front of a mirror, doing her best to remain impassive as she thought about a joke, her deceased grandfather, an adorable kitten, her boss whom she wanted to strangle, and lots of things that never left her indifferent.

Part of her had thought Morpheus wouldn't notice. Another hoped he would see it, that he would be happy, and that she could smile to herself.

While they were watching her favorite movie together, a funny scene played out and she didn't react. Then another, and another, until Y/N felt that Dream's attention was no longer on the screen, but on her.

     "My love, you seem distant."

     "Not at all. I'm enjoying a pleasant evening, with you." she said with a neutral tone.

     "... You didn't laugh. Would you like to see another movie ?"

     "No, I like this movie. You weren't laughing either, do you want to change ?"

     "I never laugh."

    "Because you're too melancholic to find aything funny ?"

     "... No. My laughter... I was informed that my laughter could be frightening."

Y/N then turned to him, and at that moment, she almost smiled, finding the revelation ridiculous and adorable,  wanting to hear that laughter that her lover was so ashamed of, out of curiosity, but above all to reassure him.

Except that for that, she would have to show emotions, and make him feel emotions, and the goal was to remain as neutral as possible, so Y/N forced herself to remain neutral, looking at him straight in the eyes so that he knew that she was serious, while looking for the right wording.

"I'm sure your laugh is sweet." was the best thing that came to her, patting Morpheus' hand, before watching the movie again.

There were many other moments like this, at the New Inn, at the park, in the Dreaming, and Y/N really thought that everything was fine, that she was doing a good job. The weather seemed calm, with a few distant clouds, but no storms in sight.

Still, there was something in Morpheus' eyes when he looked at her. Curiosity mixed with fear. She didn't dare tell him about it, thinking it was nothing, and he didn't tell her either.

Until Matthew came to visit her as she was getting ready to go to sleep.

     "I don't know if I should ask you to go to bed quickly, or advise you to stay awake."

     "Why ? What's going on ? Morpheus is in trouble ?!"

     "Uh... That depends. Is everything okay between you two ?"

     "Yes, perfectly fine. Why ?" she asked, suddenly worried.

     "I don't know. It's foggy at the moment. We've had a few rains, a few tornadoes, but Lucienne managed to calm it down. Except that... Hmm... I don't know if I should say it."

     "Matthew."

     "He thinks you don't love him anymore." sighed the raven, lowering his head.

The news hit Y/N straight to the heart. For a moment, she wondered how Dream could have come to such a conclusion. Then she remembered how Dream was, his difficulties in understanding people, emotions, and even if he himself didn't often show what he felt, he clearly needed others to show him.

For a month, Y/N thought to make him happy. For a month, Morpheus thought she wanted to leave him.

     "... This is a terrible misunderstanding."

     "Glad to hear that. Can you tell him, please ?"

Falling asleep when stressed might take a while, but Y/N needed to see Morpheus quickly, so she closed her eyes thinking hard about him, and she arrived on the balcony of his palace.

It was raining.

Obviously, Matthew had come to see her before Lucienne went to speak to her master.

Dream stood in the rain, motionless, watching his realm. He didn't move when she came close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

     "I love you, you know that ?" she asked shyly.

     "I hope so."

     "In wanting to please you, I made a mistake. Your mood changes so easily, you can be so fragile, so sensitive."

     "I'm not fragile." he muttered, continuing to stare into the distance.

     "You are, but that's neither an insult nor the question. I thought... The Corinthian told me that if I don't show my emotions, I won't upset you with them and that you I would be happy. I wanted to help, really. Since you know that I love you, I imagined that it wouldn't change anything. It would be inside, like for you. Sorry."

Finally, Dream turned to her, looking surprised and solemn. He stared at her for a long time, before taking a deep breath.

     "I see. So you made several mistakes, indeed."

     "Dream..."

     "You listened to the Corinthian, a nightmare."

     "I know."

     "You thought it would be good for you to keep your emotions inside, like me. Knowing that my emotions are never really inside, but entirely outside, in the Dreaming, while you should keep your storms in your little heart."

     "I get it, I..."

     "And you believed that I would like you to deprive me of your smile. Of your laughter. That you hide your sadness from me, which I could erase with kisses. Your anger, which I could appease with poems. Your love, which I carry in my chest. All this to make me happy ?"

So Morpheus did something that Y/N hadn't imagined.

He laughed. 

And like he said, his laugh was a little scary. Inhuman. A sound that mortals weren't supposed to hear, that no one was supposed to hear. But he was laughing, and he was smiling, and he came over to kiss her, and Y/N thought she liked that sound a lot.

     "My love, your emotions, all your emotions, are my joy. Do not hide them from me."

     "Okay. But promise me you'll tell me when it's rainy, and why."

     "Very well."

     "And I was right, your laugh is very sweet."

     "Yeah, I guess love makes you blind and deaf."

     "Matthew. Leave us."

     "Yes, boss. Glad it's not raining anymore."

Indeed, the sun had returned as he spoke, a bright sun, and even if the weather could never be perfect, like their relationship, Y/N would do everything to make Morpheus as bright as possible.