#i just need to push through this ONCE and maybe if i go to sleep at 3am and wake up at 7 am i can ace mondays classes that last until 7pm

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 4 Alternative Workout (Momo)

You then received a message from Momo, she asked if you are working out at the park now.

 You tell her no but if she wants to see you, you could be there soon, you just won't have the most energy.

 You reply to her you are not having exercise, but you could catch up with her if she wants. She said she would wait for u in the gym. You change direction and head to the gym.

  Once you arrive, you directly go to Momo's private coaching room, when you open the door, you see she is sketching on the yoga mat, she notices you and signals you to take a seat next to her.

 You pull out another yoga mat and put it next to her, while you keep staring at her cleavage when she is bending down. Momo notices and smirks, 'You just can't take your eye off my breast every time huh?'

 ‘Yep, they're two big melons distracting me.’ You reply.  you try to copy her movements on the yoga mat.

 ‘I know you like to eat melon, but it's not the time yet.' Momo replies seductively to your flirt. You two keep sketching on the yoga mat for a few more sets. Then you two go back to the public area for working out.

 You two go to the ramp platform for the squat, Momo helps you put the weight on the barbell, ask 'As usual?'

 You answer her that you are not in the mood today, so you want lesser weight. She nods and helps you adjust.

 When you are in position and she spots you from behind, you begin to go down with the weight but the sex marathon really drains you. After a couple of sets, your leg starts to shake. Momo immediately comes to help you, you can feel her nipples pressing your back, and she licks your ear, said' Your favorite melon is helping you, one more set, ok?'

 "Sure, if I can eat those melons sometime" You joke as you push yourself through the next set.

 After finishing the squat, Momo sees you are really not in shape today, so she brings you to do some easier weight training, every time she spots you, her breast just stick on your back and her hand is keep touching your body. She even blows some winds to your ear, encourages you to hold on.

 You continue to work through her regiment growing more tired, at one point you just lay on the floor for a while. "Momo, I need a boost to help me finish this, you got anything for that?"

 Momo smirks, she pulls you up while slightly grabs your bulge. 'Last exercise for the today, maybe you can get a reward then.'

 She brings you to the bench, and asks you to do the bench press, you sleep on the bench, and she is ready to spot you, you could only see two big melons rather than ceiling, you try your best to finish it.

 Once you put down the dumbbell, Momo bend down and put her breast right on top of your face, 'Time for the dessert, have your favorite melon.'

 You pull on her top and take her left tit into your mouth, lazily swirling your tongue around it.

 You pull on her top and start washing your face with her chest, she moans quietly when you blow wind on her nipples, you are addicted to her size and start to grab her harder, she hold you head for you to play with her breast easily, another hand sneaking into your shorts and caressing your shaft outside the pants.

 She moans loudly when you bit her nipple, considering someone may find out, she stops you and brings you back to her room by pulling your shaft. Once you two enter the room, she signals you to sleep on the massage bed and asks, ‘As usual?'

 "Yes, please." You tell her, as you get ready.

 You are laying on the massage table and Momo applies some oil on your body and start massaging you. Meanwhile you use your hand to explore her body in her yoga pants.

 You moan while you rub Momo. You tell her she's doing great.

Momo gets off her sports bra and yoga pants, allowing you to touch her skin directly. Meanwhile her hand moved to your lower half, teasing your inner thigh by drawing circles with nail.

You tell Momo to get on top of you, so you can help her relax better.

Momo asks you to be patient, and keep teasing your nerve area, you focus on the pleasure, turning into a doggy position for Momo to use her magic hand easier. Momo stands behind you and starts stroking you backward. You start to Moan Momo's name louder.

You run your hands over legs and when you reach her ass you give it a hard slap.

Seeing you still have the energy to resist her, Momo starts to twist your dick with two hands, slowly and gently. Already served you countless times, Momo Already knows your sensitive spots, her hand accurately reaches all those spots accurately at the same time.

This sensation makes your body start to shake, you kneel and all fours on the table, doing nothing but moan like there's no tomorrow.

In a sudden movement You'll tackle Momo to the floor, say "that's enough from you Momo, time for you to feel good" and start eating her out.

Momo starts moaning when you are eating her out.

'How dare you not to follow my training program. ah.'

She grabs your hair and pulls your head toward her pussy, you use your hand to raise her leg in V shape in the air, and start to suck harder.

As I eat her you start to play with her clit, rubbing it quickly so she gets close to cumming.

You keep rubbing Momo's clit and sucking her harder, she soon reaches her orgasm. She did not let go of your head, so she just splashes all over your face while she moan loudly.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

You going to go hide and let Momo deal with this.

You just hide behind the table and use tissue to clean your face, while Momo will deal with this.

Momo did not dress up, she just lying on the floor lazily and ask who is it.

It is Momo's colleague, he comes to check is Momo ok, because he can hear Momo's scream painfully outside.

Momo just send off him and turns back to you.

'Your dub ass, never sees you move this quick, don't wanna get caught for having sex with me?'

"Well, you'd probably lose your job, wouldn't you? Then I wouldn't be able to see you again. Have you thought of that?" You respond before getting out of your hiding place.

Momo leads you to the bed by grabbing your dick, she lets you to sleep on it, and start applying oil to her body.

'He won't report me, that guy has approached me for a long time, but I am not interested in him.'

"Well now I know." You say as you watch her lather herself in oil.

'Anyway, I have locked the door, no need to be worried, just enjoy the class.'

Momo climbs on you after her body was covered by oil, and starts giving you a body massage by her body. She hugs you and her breast is rubbing on your body.

I have your hands at her side at all times while you enjoy her massage, when you can you give her a spank and tell her she's doing great.

'OH, Momo, it's feeling so great, how can I not love your body.' You spank her ass and moan slightly.

Momo smiles when she hears your praise, aligning your shaft in between her thighs cheek, and start rubbing you. 

Your body shivers and you grab her ass to make her move faster, you also thrust your hip to meet her rhythm.

'Such a horny boy, you can’t control yourself don't you?' Momo sighs and twist her ass to bring you more sensations.

"Of course not, not when you have such a sexy body." You respond as one of your hands reaches for her tits.

You move one of your hands to her chest and play with her tits, the remaining one is still pressing on her ass to maintain her speed on rubbing you.

'Oh, Y/N, I can feel you are harder when you're playing my tits, do you want to fuck my tits? Or you want to keep staying like this?'

Momo asks you when she starts rubbing your dick with her clit, you are falling into the pleasure, your body shakes again, you need to decide where she will finish you off.

"I'd rather fuck you, but I'll take your tits at this point."

'You know I won't let you put it in, but the rest of my body is always ready for you.'

Momo smirks and slowly moving down her body, her breasts are keep teasing you when she goes down, until your cock just perfectly slip to into her cleavage.

She applies more oil on her chest, crosses her in front of her breast, preventing you from slipping out from her cleavage, then she starts her titjobs.

You moan her name and ask her to lick the tip when it pops out from between her tits.

'Momo, your tits are so soft, just like heaven, suck my dick too.' You moan as you thrust your hips to go deeper into her cleavage.

'I guess I'm the best coach you've ever meet right?' Momo bends her head down; her tongue licks your tip every time it is peeking from her breast.

'Tasty, I can't wait for the real one.' Momo increases her pace while she is tasting your pre-cum. You feel you are goona cum as you are triggered by her teasing.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer and cover her tits and face in your cum.

'Shit, Momo, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, take it all, ahhh.'

You thrust your hips like you are fucking a pussy, your cock just pulsing between her tits, and you cum like a volcano, waves of cum shooting out, Momo did not hide, instead, she keep stroking your shaft until your balls are empty. Her face and chest are covered by your cum.

 'いただきます(itadakimasu)'

 Momo said as she collects your cum on her chest and taste it.

You thank Momo for her massage and ask her if she wants anything in return before you go.

You breathe heavily, ask Momo what she wants for return as you are still recovering on the bed.

'Actually, I want to taste more of it, but you seem too tired, spending whole weekend with Nayeon on bed huh?'

Momo said when she gently stroked your cock, hoping to milk you completely.

"You know it Momo. We'll have to do this when I have more energy." You say. "I gotta say though your massages get better every time"

'I practice all these just for you, you know? Can Nayeon do better than me on bed?'

Momo lay on your chest while keep playing your cock, you feel your cock start to erect slowly again.

"Those are two different things Momo, so unless you want to do the same I can't compare the two of you."

Momo seems not satisfied with your answer, she did not answer you but keep jerking you off. Soon your dick is standing up again in her magic hand.

You notice that she didn’t respond at all and ask if she's jealous of Nayeon.

‘Jealous? Of course, I am jealous of her for having such a good boyfriend like you, but I feel like you only belong to me when you are in this room, when you are under my control. I guess I am even more familiar of your dick than Nayeon.'

Momo strokes harder and hits your sensitive spots again. Your whole body just can't stop shaking, you just can't resist this sensation when she is touching you. Maybe she's right?

"If you're so jealous, why don't you take the next step then Momo?" You tease her while you reach for her pussy.

Momo slabs your hand and stop you to reach her pussy.

'You can only put it in when I am your girlfriend, I am not a slut that would fuck other's boyfriend, now just let me enjoy this time when you are belongs to me.'

Momo keeps jerking you off faster and playing with your balls, you are twisted in pain and ready to cum again.

You cum in her hand and thank her again for her massage as you get ready to leave.

You cums again in her hand when you moan her name. You feel a bit embarrassed as of the previous conversation, you just simply thank her, strugglely to get up and ready to get on your clothes.

Momo throws you a towel, 'you can go take a shower as usual, you don't wanna leave when your body so sticky right?.

You jokingly ask if she'd want to join me as you head to the shower.

'Have you ever try to bath without me when you are at the gym? And I guess you need me now, see how your legs shake.' Momo smirks and helps you to walk to the bathroom.

You two start to clean each other, she is washing your inner thigh, while you are washing her breast. You rub hard to remove the oil on the body surface, she let out a moan and said you grab too hard.

The atmosphere becomes seductive again in the smokey shower room.

You say sorry but you have to make sure her body is clean as you continue to roughly grab and rub her tits as well as ass.

You keep cleaning Momo by rubbing her tits and ass, and she returns by cleaning your inner thigh, every time she moves her hand, she intentionally touches your ball. You two just caress each other in the water.

She pushes herself to you and you just hug her, you two just stay silence when hugging.

As You look into her eyes and with the warm water falling over us, you kiss Momo slipping your tongue inside her mouth.

You two look into each other's eyes, you kiss Momo gently and She replies passionately. You slip your tongue in her mouth, exchange your saliva.

You two only stop the kiss when you are out of the air, when your lips separate, they are still connected by the saliva. Momo blush and tell you to clean yourself while moving to the corner to use another sprinkler.

"Aww I wanted to clean you a bit more." You say before you slap her ass as she leaves and you start to clean yourself.

 ou spank her ass before sending her, you just enjoy the sight of Momo's body curve which she is cleaning herself.

Suddenly, your eyes feel pain and you cannot see things properly. It should be the soap that accidentally enter your eyes.

Momo comes to help you, but all you feel is her erected nipple pressing again your back, and her hands start stroking your dick, rather than helping you.

Her hand is playing magic again, as she goes on your sensitive spots, and rubs your tip really quick. This sensation makes you shiver, and you cannot even stand properly.

You are laying back on her body, just enjoying the pleasure like you are a disability.

"Come back for more I see" You say as a joke as you rub your eyes until you can see again. You turn around and, still leaning on her, start to finger her telling her she should be feeling good too.

You enjoy her stroke and turn around to finger her while you are still leaning on her.

 'Y/N ah, how can I leave you alone.'

The sensation makes you feel weak again, your already shaken legs become worse, the proximity between you two makes you can feel Momo's breathe hitting on your chest, the moaning echoes with the sound of water, while you two caressing.

 "I can't leave you alone either" You say with a laugh. "You feel so good though, Momo" You kiss her again as you lean on her to hold yourself up.

You put your head on her forehead and looking right into her eyes, you can see your face in the reflection of her eyeball. You feel like You and Momo are a real couple at this moment.

 Momo smiles happily when you follow her words, and she strokes you harder.

 'Now cum for me, my boy.'

 "You should cum for me too Momo"

 Momo nods and both of you increase the pace and intensity of caressing.

 'Y/N'

 'Momo'

You and Momo reach orgasm at the same time when you are moaning each other's name.

Momo jerks you off the post-orgasm, all you could do is rest on her shoulder, let her milk you and enjoy the pleasure.

You turn her head to kiss her. "You're so good Momo." You enjoy the feeling of her stroking your cock after you've cum.

 ou turn your head and kiss Momo, and appreciate her technique.

 'You really like my hand, don't you?'

 'Of course, Momo, I have never been drained so dry like this before. Ahh...'

Momo sees your shaking legs and smirks, stroking harder, a little bit of your remaining cums leak out from your tip, you moan again.

Momo stops when she feels you are emptied, she dries your body and helps you get back to her room.

Once you get back to her room you rest awhile. Once you feel good you'll give her a kiss and say goodbye.

Seeing you ready to leave, Momo looks a bit worried.

'You sure you can drive while your leg shakes like this? I have never seen you so tired before.'

You tell her it's fine, and you open the door. But Momo grabs your hand.

 'You can stay here tonight if you want.'

 "Are you going to stay with me?" You joke as you slowly start to go.

You leave the room, not waiting for Momo's answer. You see a male coach waiting outside, and once he sees you leave, He enters Momo's room.

'Hey Momo, ready to leave now? We can leave together.'

'No, Daniel. I am not leaving yet, maybe you should go first.'

'I can wait for you Momo. Let me drive you home, don't be shy.'

You guess this is the men that Momo mentioned before.

You’re going to purposely fall, and have Momo help you so you stay the night.

Hearing the noise of your falling, they rush out immediately. Seeing you look painfully on the floor, Momo helps you get up and brings you back to the room.

'My client is injured, and I need to take care of him. Daniel, you should leave first.'

Daniel looks at you angrily before he turns around to leave.

Helping you to get on the bed, Momo takes some first aid equipment and checking and where you injured.

'Does it hurt? I told you to stay here tonight.'

Seeing how She worry about you, you just can't stop to laugh.

'How can you still laugh, you are injured!.' Momo hits your laughter and hits you gently.

"I've just never seen you so worried is all. You do care about me." You say with sarcasm at the end. You look to make sure the guy is gone before saying "You know I fell on purpose so you didn't have to go with that guy, right?"

Momo seems angry by your response, she put down her first aid equipment.

'Yes, I do care about you, a lot, since a long time ago, but the only thing you think about is Nayeon.'

'You think it is fun to pretend you are injured? Don't you know that I would worry about you? I can handle Daniel by myself, I don't need your help.'

You are shocked by Momo's response, you don't know what you should answer.

You think for a moment before grabbing her arm, pulling her in to you "if I only thought about Nayeon, I wouldn't have fallen Momo. I was thinking of you, and I didn't like the idea of you going with him. You should be with me" You say before you give her a kiss.

Momo lying in your arm, tears dropping from her eye.

'It is the first time I confess my feeling, I didn't know you will think about me too. But how about Nayeon? She is your girlfriend, I don't wanna affect your relationships.'

"That doesn't matter Momo. What matters is you and me." You say while you wipe away her tears and bring her in for a hug.

Momo hugs you back and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

 'So, you are staying with me here tonight? Let me prepare the pillow for you.'

 Momo tries to get up but you grab her back into you and kiss her again.

 'No, Momo, you can be me pillow.'

 Momo blushes, and you two spend the night together for the first time.

 You'll be spooning with Momo the entire night. Hugging her from behind.

[maltesejjong]

Network Love

-ot13 x afab! o.c (original character) TEASER

დ synopsis : kang soojin has always been given the short end of the stick, but has somehow always pushed through. then, one night, hee luck changes and she soon finds herself living with the members of kpop superstars, seventeen. it doesn’t take long for things to heat up between them all, though…

დ warnings: smut MDNI, slight mentions of prostitution (for the set up of the series, maybe two different scenes but nothing explicit, just the conversation), pregnancy, choking kink, creampie, threesome(s), pain kink, use of pet names, alcohol, drugs (weed) (I think I don’t fully remember), friends to lovers, slow burn, some not so slow burn, p in v, plenty more warnings but each chapter will have chapter specific warnings

დ THIS IS AN OT13 X OC AND THERE WILL BE MXM/SHIPS CONTAINED IN THIS WORK. IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY OR COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, YOU ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO READ. THANK YOU დ

Excerpt context: night before the members leave for a tour, and soojin is going to come along to fulfill her “manager” duties. little does she know, hee actions have consequences….

დ

დ

დ

“Angel? Can I come in?”

“Seokminnie! Sure.”

He wanders over to my bed and climbs in. I’m laying on Jun’s chest, my legs are pulled over Shua’s, and Jeonghan’s resting his head on my thigh.DK snuggles in next to Joshua and rests his chin on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I am making sure our flight time hasn’t changed,” I say. “I don’t know about these three.”

“Reading,” Jun says lazily.

“Sleeping,” Jeonghan mumbles.

Jisoo glances down. “Sleeping people don’t talk.”

“This one does,” his hyung retorts.

Shua’s free hand wanders down to stroke my hair. “Nervous?” he asks.

“First tour,” Seokmin adds.

“A little,” I admit. “I keep worrying that something’s gonna go wrong.”

DK leans over to kiss my head. “It’ss be fine. I promise.”

“Jagiya?” S.Coups pokes his head into the room. I point to the halo of white blonde hair. He grins and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “There you are. What’s going on?”

“Soojin-ah’s nervous,” Eomma says.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I say.

He shrugs and sits up. “I will be soon. I don’t want the kids up too late since we have a flight in the morning.” Jeonghan swings his legs over the edge of my bed and starts to walk out. Hepauses at the door. “Coups?”

Cheol sighs and stands. “He’s right. We’ve got and early morning ahead of us. Soojin, I don’t want more than two people in here tonight.” He walks off to follow his soulmate.

We’re all silent for a moment, then Min goes “Well! I’m off to bed!” He kisses Shua’s cheek. “G’night.” Hugs Jun. “Night.” Kisses my forehead. “Sleep well, jagi.”

I sit up once the door closes. “I’m gonna go change. I think I might have some of y’alls clothes in my closet,” I say, walking towards it. “Let me check.” I open the closet door to see one of Shua’s shirts already hanging there. “Sunshine, I have your gray shirt in here. I might have a pair of sweats, unless you want to stay in your shorts. Junnie, I’ll–”

The closet door shuts with a snap. I glance up to find a pair of hands caging me in from behind.

“Jun. What the hell.”

He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Thought we’d forget, did you?”

“What?”

“That little stunt you pulled earlier. Sending us that picture, knowing damn well we were in a meeting. “Sending the two of us that picture, knowing damn well where we were. I think someone here needs to be taught a lesson,” Jun says. “What do you think, Shua?”

Joshua grins lazily. “I think I agree with you.”

I feel my stomach jump. “Joshua. Jun. We have a flight—“

“In the morning,” Jun finishes, angling his head so his nose is brushing mine. “It’s not morning, is it, Princess?”

[pearl-blue-musings]

die with a smile

If you’re wondering if this is based on the Bruno mars and lady Gaga song then you’d be correct

Pairing: Alhaitham x reader

Warnings: mentions of death, slight angst, comfort, written real fast, I just love him a lot

Word count: 1.5K

Dreams had always seemed like a far fetched idea to residents of Sumeru. Once they became adults, dreaming was a fleeting memory, words of myth, and lest be researched. However, after the events with the old grand sage and the Dendro archon, all citizens of Sumeru were once again able to experience the highs and lows of dreams. Dreams could be fleeting and wonderful. Some people discovered what nightmares were for the first time. All of it was truly exhilarating for Sumerians. And equally terrifying.

How many nights has it been since he’s slept? Alhaitham obviously knew the answer, but disregarding the answer could also put his mind at ease. The bags under his eyes seem to multiply as the days drag on. Under the lamp of his deck, he rubs at his eyes to stay awake and does his best not to succumb to slumber. The grand scribe sighs as he mulls over the latest notes from the sages meetings and potential research projects. He can’t avoid it forever. He can’t avoid you forever. But he’s gonna try his damn hardest. And it’s all because of his dreams.

Night after night they become more and more vivid. Most times, it’s nonsense and other times you’re there. Sometimes it’s peaceful days where the two of you are reading together under a tree, you running into a shallow river and splashing the both of you. Or maybe you both are running the Akademiya together. He can smell the parchment within the House of Daena and hear the turning of pages as you two walk hand in hand. Then there are dreams where he’s staring at himself, unsure of what’s happening. All he sees are the tears in his own eyes as whoever’s eyes he’s looking through are being lowered. He’s woken up with a gasp and sweat on his brow with you curled beside him.

As the nights had continued, the dream would give more background; which had led to his insomnia. He’s seeing the world through your eyes, which makes him elated, but he then realizes that his dream is of your funeral and eventual death. The dream, for some reason, is going in reverse order and if he sleeps one more night ... so he’s resigned to not sleep.

His body shakes in his desk as he fights sleep. You’d have to be blind to not see how he’s been avoiding sharing a bed with you; to him that’s where the dreams are the worst. You took it upon yourself to visit him at his office. You want to be there for him as you can see he’s struggling on his own. You even reached out to Kaveh and the architect was at a loss for words. Alhaitham barely registers the sound of your footsteps along the tile of his office as you gently place your hands on his shoulders. Your voice is a gentle whisper, is he dreaming again? “Haitham,” you coo quietly, “you need to sleep.”

“I’m fine, darling,” he says with a frustrated yawn. You roll your eyes and start to clean up his desk. Alhaitham sits back in his chair and sighs with his arms crossed. “I told you-“

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Tired eyes blink slowly as the scribe scrounges up a reply. “There is too much to do.”

“You can’t lie to me,” you mumble with a tremor. “If there’s something I’ve done, please let me know.”

At that, Alhaitham quickly pushes himself out of the chair to hold you tight. His arms encompass you fully and you can feel how shaky he is. He breathes in your scent, placing the tip of his nose at your pressure point to feel your pulse. He visibly softens at feeling you within his arms. Shakily, he whispers, “you haven’t done anything my love. I,” he stops hugging you to cup your cheeks. Your eyes dance in the lamp light as you stare at him, your gaze full of love and adoration for the man in front of you. Alhaitham blinks. “I’ve been having…negative dreams.

“About you.” He carefully lowers his head and voice as he finally adds on, “dying. But it hasn’t happened.” You give him a quizzical look as you tilt your head to the side. You hold onto his hands gently as a sign for him to keep on. “The dream happens in reverse. Each night,” he breathes out, “a new scene gets added. The first was seeing me through, I’m assuming your eyes. Being lowered into the ground. I was crying.”

You move your hands to his cheeks to ground him. His lips tremble at his own emotions bubbling over and you move him to the couch in his office. You lay his head into your lap and start to play with his silver hair, something he secretly loves.

“Each night, I get more context. And I calculated that 8 nights ago would be the time I would see what happens to you and,” his voice echoes as it trails off. “I don’t want to see you leave. I don’t want to have to say goodbye to the best thing that has happened to me.” He sits up to look you in the eye, his own glassing over with tears you assume he had in the dream. Seldom do you see your boyfriend cry, and it must have taken so much of him to not let this overflow. Your throat clogs up with your own sobs wanting to shake you. You shake your head from the hurt coming from this man in your arms. This is someone who always had to rely on himself to deal with his emotions or pack them faraway. Although you’re struggling to soak in what he’s said, you give him your best smile and press your forehead to his.

You breathe a calm breath before speaking calmly. “You don’t have to battle this on your own,” although you’re trying to comfort him, your voice shakes. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“But dreams,” he tries to interrupt.

“Dreams don’t always predict the future, my love. But they can show what you’re afraid of or feelings you have deep down. So please, go to sleep, Haitham. I promise I’ll be right here.”

*****

Alhaitham wakes with a start. His heartbeat is erratic as his breathing is shallow. His brow is covered in sweat as he struggles to take in his surroundings. He’s in his office, arms full of your sleeping body. You’re slowly stirring awake as Alhaitham tries to catch his breath. His grip on you starts to get tighter as the memories of his dream are still replaying in his mind. The pads of his fingertips desperately grip your clothes to make sure you’re real, alive, and breathing.

Your voice is laced with sleep as you sit up on the couch, “hey baby? Haitham, calm down.” You run a hand though his hair to bring him back.

Alhaitham starts to slow his breathing as he sits up fully, facing away from you. As soon as he calms down, he mumbles, “it finished. I know how you die. And it’s my fault.”

Your eyes widen and you’re fully awake. You hug him from behind as small tremors wrack through your lover. “I couldn’t save you,” he begins, “it’s my fault you got taken. And the last thing you said to me was I love you. How? How can you love me? You died because of me.”

You turn him around and wipe the sweat from his brow. A few tears have fallen from his eyes as the vivid dream replays in his mind. You cup his face and draw circles on his cheeks. “Alhaitham, I love you and I’m not leaving you.” You kiss his lips softly. “It’s just a dream and you haven’t done anything to me to hurt me. And I promise you, if the end of the world comes,” you kiss him again, “I’ll be next to you. Giving you the warmest of smiles.” You give him a grin then, hoping he’ll see and feel the love you have for him.

Alhaitham breathes calmly as he places a hand over yours, needing to feel all of you as a physical reminder you’re here. He finally finds the strength to meet your soft and gentle gaze as he lifts his eyelids. His heart skips a beat and he leans in for a passionate kiss. You hum happily into the kiss and pull him into your body. Judging by the stars still up in the dark sky, you assume it’s quite early in the morning. With the overtime he’s done, you know the scribe can take a couple days off. With the both of you awake enough, the two of you gather his things and leave a note for the new grand sage alerting him of a break.

Upon returning to your home, Kaveh greets you with a tired smile, the worry easing off of his face. Alhaitham nods at his roommate as you lead him to your now shared room. Alhaitham undresses alongside you as you get ready for bed. He pulls you into his warm taut body, a smile etched onto both of your faces as pleasant dreams over take you.

[solspina]

Into Good Night

mephiston ⋆˙⟡

a tiny blurb so the brain worms will stop eating at me until i can get a full story out. god knows if anyone has ever hugged this man, by the emperor i shall be the first. unedited as i just needed to tell myself a bedtime story.

a lack of rest is not easy or healthy for the mind of a psyker. resting once will not hurt

warnings: none, just fluff :)

rage, rage against the dying of the light

do not go gently into that good night.

but perhaps once, and only once, it would not hurt to slip under into a sleep like death. just a few minutes, mephiston promised himself. maybe it would not hurt to pass his time by resting instead of pushing himself to the very limit of his power, escaping the enveloping warmth of the rage right before it consumed him, again and again.

over and over.

the only other being that resided within his chambers was an assistant of his. they were one who carried around countless vials of blood, always prepared to drive them into the thick skin of mephiston in one of the many cases he had ever slipped too far.

but this being was only human, yet tasked with such a great responsibility. perhaps the rest that he took now was purely for their sake.

that’s what he wanted to believe, that he wasn’t engaged in the selfish and vile sin of resting. he was doing nothing good for himself by condemning himself to vulnerability in the arms of this human. and yet he trusted them with his life on a daily basis as he hung by a thread on the edge of his sanity.

they sat with their legs crossed on his bed, staring down upon mephiston. he stared back, his head placed strategically in their lap so that they could brush and weave their tiny fingers through his long blond hair. he thought himself greedy for indulging in their affection, and yet they seemed to think the opposite.

they didn’t see the monster his brothers saw, nor did they see the paleness of his skin or the inhumanity that stirred in those glowing blue eyes.

they simply saw mephiston

or perhaps it was calistarius they saw

for they looked at him and smiled. not in a taunting way, not in a way that makes mockery of him. they saw through the emptiness and rage, and peered their own gaze into the heart of the man he was before he was reborn.

there had been nights that they had come to him seeking warmth, in which he had swiftly rejected at first. until a particular sleepless night that he had accepted their request to join him in his bed. the moment their warm stomach made contact with his cold and bare back, he had felt every ounce of anger, rage, and doubt fade from his mind like fleeting waves.

he was calm, serene, and at peace. a look of bliss had made its way across his features, his lips shifting away from his permanent scowl and into something akin to neutrality.

much as he did now.

their fingertips rubbed at his scalp, careful to avoid the metal pools within his temples as their light slowly faded, the tubes disconnected from his head. his eyes had long since closed, even as they moved to caress his face, their palms settling upon his cheeks as their fingers cupped his sharp and gaunt jawline, he did not move.

the psychic weight had completely faded from the air, as had the light emitting from his body. he looked near lifeless, but at peace.

they traced the scars that covered his shoulders as an after effect of the primaris surgery. it had been incredibly difficult for him to sleep since then, as they had only counted a few hours of proper rest for him over the past several months, for no more than minutes at a time.

they prayed he’d stay asleep, at least for the duration of a solar night around terra. it was easy to have an uneasy mind when you were deprived of rest, even as a psyker and primaris space marine.

they leaned down, placing their lips against the bridge of his nose before pulling away and joining him under the blankets as he breathed softly against the pillow underneath him. by some miracle, his skin felt some sort of warm and the perpetual furrow in his brow had completely disappeared.

just one time, go gently into that good night

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling

Synopsis:

Tired of her quiet, predictable life, a woman takes a spontaneous detour into a gritty bar. What begins as a distraction becomes a night of rediscovery, as an encounter with a captivating bartender brings her face-to-face with her own fears—and desires.

Author’s Note:

I’ve never written anything before, though I’ve always had stories in my head. Seeing all the Caught Stealing set content this week finally pushed me to get something down. I’ve combined the original two parts I posted earlier into one updated story, adding in some details I couldn’t leave out!

Word Count: 8,712

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. Or at least, it hasn’t been me in a long time.

There was a time when I was more comfortable in my own skin, when my shyness didn’t feel like a weight. It used to be a part of me, something I accepted, something I lived with rather than fought against. I could be quiet and still feel confident, blending into the background but never doubting my worth. But somewhere along the way, that shifted. The quiet I once enjoyed now feels stifling. I’m constantly second-guessing myself, overthinking every little action, every word I say, as if there’s some invisible audience keeping score.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and I feel too small in it.

Lately, the silence of my own company has become less of a comfort and more of a reminder. A reminder that I’m stuck. That life is moving forward, and I’m standing still, watching everyone else go on without me. I can’t even remember the last time I did something that made me feel...alive. Not just existing from one day to the next but really feeling like I’m part of something—part of the world instead of just a spectator.

Tonight, it feels like I’ve reached some invisible limit. I can’t take another evening of staring at the same four walls, of flicking through channels without really watching, of pretending I’m okay with the monotony. Work drained me, as it always does, leaving me too exhausted to think but somehow too restless to sleep. My mind feels like it’s stuck in a loop, clogged with the same old worries that circle endlessly, without resolution. They’re small things—most of them, at least—but they pile up, weighing me down until I can barely breathe under their collective pressure.

Normally, I’d push through it, fall back into my routine because that’s what I do. I know the safe route; I’ve perfected it over time. But tonight, the routine felt unbearable. The thought of going home, of slipping back into the same old patterns—it made my chest tighten with the kind of dread I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t that I had a plan, not really. I just knew I couldn’t face another night of nothingness.

So instead of walking home like I always do, I took a different path, literally. One foot in front of the other, the sidewalk unfamiliar beneath me as I moved further away from everything that felt safe and known. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. But the farther I walked, the more it felt like I was being pulled—by something I couldn’t name, some need inside me that I’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

And that’s how I ended up here, standing in front of Paul’s, the bar I’ve passed countless times but never once considered entering. It’s not my kind of place. Never has been. It’s gritty, loud, with an edge that feels too rough for someone like me. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know each other, where conversations are shared over sticky countertops and half-drunk glasses of whiskey. The regulars here probably have stories they’ve told a hundred times, stories about the kind of life I don’t live—the kind of life I always thought I didn’t want.

But maybe tonight, I don’t want to be the kind of person who always plays it safe, who blends into the background without ever leaving a mark. Maybe tonight, I need to be someone else. Someone who isn’t so afraid to take up space. Someone who doesn’t spend hours dissecting every interaction, every conversation, until the memory of it feels more like a mistake than a moment.

I step inside, and immediately, the atmosphere hits me like a wave. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of alcohol and something else I can’t quite place. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows linger in the corners, and the faces blur together unless you’re really looking. There’s a hum of conversation, the low murmur of voices blending with the occasional burst of laughter, creating a background noise that fills the space without overpowering it.

I don’t know why, but the second I cross the threshold, I feel the weight of the room shift. Not in any obvious way. It’s not like anyone stops what they’re doing to look at me—most people are too engrossed in their own lives, their own stories. But I feel it. I feel different, like I’ve stepped out of my usual world and into something unfamiliar, something that makes my nerves buzz just beneath the surface of my skin.

For a brief moment, I want to turn around, to leave before anyone even notices I’m here. That familiar urge to retreat, to go back to what I know, bubbles up inside me, threatening to overwhelm the tentative boldness that brought me here in the first place. But I don’t leave. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then force myself to stay. To move further into the bar, even though every part of me is screaming to turn back.

I make my way toward the bar, my steps feeling both too loud and too quiet at the same time. My eyes flick around, taking in the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. I feel exposed, out of place, but at the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that no one is really paying attention to me. I can be invisible here if I want to be—and that’s fine. I’m not here to be noticed. I don’t need anyone to see me.

I just need a break—from my own head, from the endless loop of thoughts and worries that seem to follow me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find here, or if I’m even looking for anything at all. All I know is that tonight, I couldn’t go home. I needed to be somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that wasn’t the same quiet, predictable space where my thoughts would close in on me again.

That’s when I see him.

He was positioned behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter with an ease that suggested he was in his element, practically part of the furniture. His blonde hair, tousled and slightly unkempt, peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, pulled down just enough to give him a hint of mystery, shadowing his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes caught mine with an intensity that felt almost tangible, sharp and probing, as if he could peel back the layers of anyone who happened to fall under his gaze.

For a brief moment, the thought of diverting my eyes flitted through my mind, a reflex to escape the unexpected vulnerability I felt under his scrutiny. But I didn’t look away. Instead, our eyes locked, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face—a smile that seemed to see right through to the nerves I was trying so hard to mask. He held my gaze for a beat too long, creating a moment charged with an unspoken challenge before he turned his attention back to the drinks he was pouring.

A stir of something unfamiliar fluttered inside me—a cocktail of nerves, curiosity, and an exhilarating sense of daring. This wasn't typically me; I was not one to flirt openly, especially with bartenders, nor to sit alone boldly in such a buzzing place. But tonight was different. Tonight, I felt drawn to the unknown, compelled to explore whatever this could lead to.

As I approached the bar, each step seemed amplified, my awareness heightened as if every movement was a statement of intent. I slid onto a stool, feeling the coolness of the leather through my jeans, and my presence seemed to draw his attention once more. The bottles behind him caught the soft lighting of the bar, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the polished surface. The room was steeped in the smells of smoke and aged wood, enriched with a hint of something musky, almost intoxicating.

He glanced up as I settled in, his earlier smile returning, expectant, as if he had anticipated the challenge I was about to present.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice a rough blend of warmth and rasp, perfectly echoing the raw, ambient energy of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have a standard order ready, something simple and unassuming, designed to blend in rather than stand out. But tonight, driven by a newfound audacity, I hesitated, meeting his gaze squarely. “Whatever you recommend,” I ventured, my voice more steady than I felt.

His eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my response, and his smirk widened, adding a playful edge to his already compelling demeanour. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, the gesture firm despite the fluttering in my stomach. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with a hint of respect, or perhaps challenge. Shaking his head as if in disbelief at my daring, he reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Watching him work was like observing a skilled artist; each movement was fluid and assured. He selected ingredients with precision, mixing them with a practiced hand that spoke of years behind the bar. As he prepared the drink, I found myself stealing glances, drawn to the confident way he navigated his domain.

He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine, a spark of electricity zipped through me, startling and vivid.

“Here you go,” he said, his tone light, that easy grin playing on his lips again. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a tentative sip, and the drink was a revelation—smooth with an undercurrent of complexity that mirrored the night itself. It warmed me, loosening the edges of my anxiety, coaxing a sense of openness I hadn’t felt upon walking in.

“Not bad,” I replied, my own smile a reflection of his, a silent acknowledgment of the small adventure I had embarked upon.

His eyes studied me, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. “Good to know,” he said, his voice tinged with a subtle warmth. He momentarily excused himself to attend to another customer, his movements efficient and practiced as he refilled a drink without missing a beat.

As he worked, the familiar atmosphere of the bar wrapped around us—a comfortable hum of background chatter mingled with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from patrons watching the baseball game on the television above. Adjusting his cap, he made his way back to where I was sitting, his approach marked by an easy, confident smile that seemed to pull the dim light of the bar towards him.

Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, aiming for light-hearted but cringing a bit at the cliché.

He chuckled, a light, engaging sound that drew a grin from me. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the bar.

Hank. It suited him perfectly—strong, straightforward, with just the right amount of rugged charm.

“I’m—” I began, ready to offer my own name, but just then, a regular at the end of the bar caught Hank’s attention, loudly requesting help with the jukebox that was stubbornly refusing to accept their money. Hank shot me a quick, conspiratorial smile that promised he’d return, and then he was off, his stride confident as he navigated the crowded space.

I watched him as he worked, noting the way his shoulders rolled with each movement, the casual confidence in his stride. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew the eye and held it. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he seemed so completely at ease in his environment, as if he were as much a fixture of the bar as the shelves of liquor behind him.

As he adjusted the jukebox, his eyes occasionally flicked to the small television mounted above the bar. The San Francisco Giants were playing, and it was clear from his intermittent nods and muttered comments to another patron that he was following the game.

When he returned, the noise level in the bar had dropped a bit, and he leaned in slightly to resume our conversation. “Big Giants fan?” I asked, gesturing towards his hat and the screen above us.

"Definitely," Hank said, his smile broadening. "I played a ton in high school back in California, but a bad leg break sidelined me for good. Now, I never miss a game, it helps keep the spirit alive."

“From baseball player to master mixologist,” I observed, noting the transition from his past interests to his current profession. “Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of irony flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied with a slight shrug. “Though life always has a few surprises up its sleeve, doesn’t it?”

As the evening unfolded, the bar had thinned out, not nearly as busy as when I first arrived, but still lively enough to keep Hank moving between customers. Between sharing a laugh, or tossing a rag over his shoulder with casual grace, his eyes would inevitably return, as though drawn by some unspoken pull. Each time he approached, it felt like we were continuing a conversation that had never really stopped, even if words weren’t always exchanged. It was more about his presence—the way he leaned in slightly, his focus making it seem like nothing else in the room mattered.

The warmth of the alcohol settled into me, quieting my usual reservations. It wasn’t enough to cloud my thoughts—I was still fully aware—but it gave me a newfound confidence. With each passing moment, the initial unease melted away, replaced by a comfortable rhythm between us.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s tonight? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd here,” Hank inquired after a while, his tone casual but curious, his eyes searching mine for something deeper than the surface-level chit-chat.

I hesitated, the question more profound than I had anticipated sharing with a near-stranger. Yet, something about Hank’s straightforwardness, underscored by the honest curiosity in his eyes, made me want to open up.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.

He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting off as if visualising the answer, then locked back onto me with a reflective expression. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who appreciates peace.”

I smiled, touched by his perceptiveness. “You’re not wrong. I’m definitely more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, studying me as if he was putting together a puzzle. “Let me guess,” he started, his voice lowering to a warm, playful tone, “you’ve got that favourite little corner spot, don’t you? Always tucked away with a book or maybe a notebook for doodling or jotting down your thoughts. And I bet you drink your coffee black, no distractions—just you and your thoughts.”

The accuracy of his assumptions made me burst into laughter, more open and genuine than I expected in such a setting. “Okay, you’re close,” I conceded, still chuckling. “But, I do take a little sugar with my coffee—just a touch to sweeten the deal.”

His laughter joined mine, creating a light, easy atmosphere that seemed to set the tone for whatever was to come. “Noted,” he said, with a mock-serious nod. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

The lighthearted moment briefly subsided as he posed a more thoughtful question, his tone lowering to a gentle, inviting rumble. “So, what’s got you stepping out of your coffee shop comfort zone tonight?”

Glancing down at my glass, the swirl of liquid momentarily mesmerising, I acknowledged the underlying current of vulnerability. Yet, there was an ease in Hank’s presence that coaxed the words from me more freely than I expected. “I don’t know... I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Work’s been overwhelming, I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s response was a nod, his eyes softening with a deep understanding. “Yeah, more than you’d think.” Curiosity piqued, I found myself more drawn to him, seeing him not only in his role here but as someone who genuinely understood the struggles people go through. “What about you? You seem like the kind of guy who’s seen it all here. What keeps you coming back?”

“The people, I guess,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine again. “Everyone who walks in has their own story, their own reason for being here. I like that—it’s unpredictable. I can be part of the background or something more, depending on the night. Tonight feels different, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the conversation shifting as his attention became more focused.

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You stand out. You’re not trying to blend in, like most people who come in here to disappear for a bit.”

I felt a shiver run through me, even though his words were light. “I wasn’t really planning on standing out,” I admitted, my voice softer now, a little shy.

He folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a touch closer. The subtle intimacy of the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I felt my cheeks warm, surprised at how much I liked hearing that. “Yeah… me too,” I said, smiling just enough to let him know I meant it.

He smiled back, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes, stepping into something unfamiliar is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we’ve been missing.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming between us. “And what do you think I’ve been missing?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us. “Maybe something real. Something that pulls you out of the everyday.”

I held his gaze, my heart racing a little faster now. “Maybe I am.”

“Well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “you’re not alone in that.”

The air between us thickened, charged with an undeniable pull. Even in the quiet, there was no mistaking the connection forming between us—raw, real, and electric.

The last patrons trickled out, and the bar lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of the night. The soft glow cast shadows that only made the space feel more intimate. A slow, soulful tune from the jukebox filled the room, amplifying the closeness between us.

Hank leaned in a little more, his hands idly wiping down the already spotless counter, though his attention was fully on me. The air around us felt thick with unspoken anticipation, a magnetic pull that neither of us could ignore.

"You’ve definitely changed the vibe in here tonight," Hank murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to match the mood of the room. “Doesn’t happen often.”

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks but found myself leaning in too, letting the moment take over. "Is that your way of saying you hope I come back?" I asked, my tone playful, though beneath it, there was something bolder, something daring.

A slow smile spread across his face, one that made my pulse quicken. “I’m definitely saying that. You’ve made tonight... different. And I like it.”

The room felt smaller, as though it was just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background. Our eyes locked, the tension between us humming with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Neither of us moved to break it.

Hank leaned a little closer. There was a question forming on his lips, one that seemed to dance in his eyes as he paused, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

His gaze flicked to the back door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he said it. “You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

The invitation was clear, laden with possibilities and the thrill of continuing whatever was unfolding between us outside the confines of the bar walls. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I would hesitate, tangled in self-doubt and over-analysis. But tonight felt different. It felt like a return to an older version of myself—I took a deep breath, embracing the liberating shift, and met Hank's gaze with a quiet nod.

"Yeah," I said softly, "I do."

Hank nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he moved towards the employees-only door at the far end of the bar. He gestured for me to come closer to where the bar ended, and I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I reached the end of the bar, I found myself separated from him by a pane of glass that partitioned off the employees’ area. Above Hank, the neon “BAR” sign bathed him in an ethereal glow, casting dramatic shadows across his features, highlighting the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his full lips. He reached up to unlock the door from his side, his eyes locked on mine.

Our hands met through the glass, fingertips aligning in a moment charged with anticipation. The cool surface couldn’t lessen the warmth that radiated from his touch. With a soft click, he swung the door open, diminishing the barrier between us.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I moved around the partition, stepping into his world behind the bar for the first time. There was an intimate thrill to being on his side, close enough to share his space.

Together, we walked towards the back of the bar, where a heavy door led to the alley outside. As Hank pushed it open the cool night air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

As he kissed me deeper, the sensation was overwhelming—like a storm that obliterates everything else, leaving only a beautiful, blissful blankness in its wake. It blew my mind how everything inside me cast into darkness, every worry dissolving in the heat of his touch. What a relief it was, not having to think anymore.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

But then, as if sensing a shift in the moment, Hank’s lips stilled against mine. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. His fingers tightened on my waist as though he couldn’t bear to let me go for even a second, but his voice was softer now, more grounded. “We should get out of here.”

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the dim light. He was still close, so close, his blue eyes darker now, full of unspoken promise. “Yeah,” I breathed, my heart still racing. “We should.”

Without another word, he gently untangled us from the wall, his hand sliding into mine as he led me out of the alley. The sudden openness of the quiet street hit me all at once, the world outside the alley much brighter, sharper, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was the way Hank’s thumb traced small circles on the back of my hand as we walked, like he needed the physical connection to tether us to the moment. I held his hand tighter, feeling the warmth radiating through his palm, the steadiness in the way he held me.

We walked in silence for a minute, the intensity of the night lingering between us. There was no rush, no need for words right now—just the sound of our footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as we walked, at the way his jaw clenched and relaxed, his gaze still fixed ahead, but every now and then flicking back to me with that same heat that had burned between us all night.

With every step, the cool night seemed to draw us closer, the world fading until there was nothing but the warmth of his hand in mine. Finally, we reached his apartment. Hank fumbled with the keys for just a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, betraying a mix of nerves and excitement. The lock clicked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway, and the door swung open, revealing the inviting glow of warm light inside.

He stepped aside, letting me walk in first, his hand still wrapped around mine. The apartment was simple but cozy, a space that felt lived in but not cluttered. Warm light spilled from a nearby lamp, casting a golden hue over dark wood furniture, soft blankets draped over a well-worn couch, and a guitar propped in the corner. The air was tinged with a scent that was both woodsy and intimately familiar—perhaps cedar, or simply the essence of Hank—enveloping me in a sense of deep, comforting familiarity.

As he shut the door behind us, the soft click of the lock seemed to seal us off from the rest of the world. The moment was heavy with anticipation, yet it carried a tenderness that made the space between us feel charged yet safe. I stood still, taking in the room, and felt his presence behind me. Turning slowly, I met his gaze—intense, dark, yet filled with a softness that drew me closer.

The electric connection that had sparked between us earlier was not only still present but had intensified in the privacy of his space. His eyes momentarily searched mine, a silent question lingering in their depths, ensuring I was truly there with him, in this moment. Reassured by my subtle nod, his familiar half-smile appeared, sending a rush of warmth through me.

He approached me, each step measured and unhurried. Reaching me, he raised his hand to gently cup my face, his thumb tenderly brushing my cheek in a touch that grounded and calmed me. His fingers wove through my hair, and a shiver ran down my spine as his thumb delicately traced my lower lip, the gesture so filled with intent and tenderness that my breath hitched in anticipation.

For a moment, we simply stood there, barely inches apart, the stillness of his apartment wrapping around us. Then, driven by playful curiosity, I reached up and gently tugged at the brim of his cap, pulling it off. His hair, tousled and soft, spilled over his forehead. The golden lamplight highlighted subtle waves, which caught the light as they fell free. I smiled and let the cap drop to the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to see you without this,” I teased, my fingers weaving through his hair, exploring its texture—thick and surprisingly soft, curling lightly against my fingers. He exhaled a soft sigh, a sound of relief or perhaps pleasure, his eyes deepening into a more intense hue as they locked with mine.

“It feels better already,” he murmured, the timbre of his voice low and inviting. His hands found their way to my waist, his touch firm yet gentle, anchoring me close to him as his gaze stayed fixed on mine, conveying a depth of feeling that went beyond mere attraction.

We kissed again, but this time it was different—slower, more deliberate, as if we were savouring every second. His hands roamed over my waist, tracing the curves of my hips before gliding up my back, each touch sending shivers cascading through me. I leaned into him, my body pressing closer, feeling the firm warmth of his chest against mine.

His lips left mine only to trail down to my neck, soft and warm as he planted a line of kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. My breath caught in my throat, a flush of heat sweeping over me as his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of my lower back. I arched into him, wanting more of his touch, more of him.

But he maintained a tantalising pace, not rushing the moment. His hands explored with deliberation, exploring the contours of my body as if he wished to etch them into his memory. His touch was gentle yet assertive, guiding without pressuring, and I felt the attentiveness in every movement, ensuring I was fully present with him. My hands wandered across his chest, tracing the defined muscles beneath his shirt, revelling in how his body tensed responsively to my touch.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and in a quiet plea for more, I tugged gently at the hem of his shirt. He pulled back just enough to help me lift it over his head, tossing it to the side. The sight of him—shirtless, standing before me in the soft light—made my heart race even faster. His torso was sculpted and firm, his skin radiating warmth under my fingertips as I followed the lines of his muscles, feeling the slight tension there as if he, too, was holding back, letting the moment unfold slowly.

Hank’s hands slid up my sides, his fingers brushing over the fabric of my shirt as he slowly began to lift it. I raised my arms in silent consent, allowing him to pull the garment over my head. The cool air brushed against my skin, yet it paled in comparison to the fervour of his touch. His hands returned to the small of my back, drawing me in until our bodies aligned. I was now standing in just my bra and jeans, my bare skin pressing against his, the direct contact of our skin was electrifying.

His gaze swept over me, filled with a mixture of awe and desire, yet he maintained his deliberate pace. Leaning in, he kissed me tenderly, his hands rising along my back to trace the contours of my spine, finally pausing at the clasp of my bra. He hesitated, his breath warm against my ear, his voice a soft murmur, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, breathless, my hands running up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. “Yes.”

He smiled against my skin, his fingers deftly unhooking my bra before letting it fall to the floor. His hands were on me again in an instant, warm and firm, sliding up to cup my breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over my skin in slow, teasing circles.

Hank’s lips grazed my collarbone, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the swell of my chest. His hands explored me with deliberate care, his touch sending waves of heat coursing through my body. When his mouth found my nipple, he teased it gently, the sensation sparking something deep and primal inside me. I let out a soft moan, my fingers tightening in his hair. “God, that feels amazing,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He let out a low groan as he lifted me with ease, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands tightened around my thighs, keeping me close, I could feel the hardness of his body pressing into mine, each step toward the bedroom intensifying my need for him, the heat between us nearly unbearable.

He laid me down gently on the bed, his body hovering over mine, his hands never leaving my skin. He kissed me again, slow and deep, as his hands moved down my sides, tracing the line of my ribs, my hips, before reaching the waistband of my jeans. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch light but full of promise.

My body ached for him, the need overwhelming now, and I reached up, my hands tugging at his belt. Hank’s breath hitched as I unfastened it, my fingers slowly working the buckle before moving to the button of his jeans. I eased the zipper down, each movement deliberate, and he quickly followed my lead, his fingers deftly undoing the button on mine. With one smooth motion, he eased both my jeans and underwear down. I sat up slightly, desire tightening in my core as I eagerly guided his jeans and boxers down. He groaned softly as I slid the fabric over his hips , and I couldn’t help but bite my lip, heat flooding through me as I took in the sight of him, feeling a mix of awe and raw need.

With nothing left between us, Hank moved closer, his weight slowly pressing down as he hovered above me, our bodies finally connecting. The sensation of his warmth and the solid press of his length against me was overwhelming, yet exactly what I craved. His lips found mine again, gentler this time, while his hands explored me with careful intention, as if he wanted to savour every moment and memorise every inch of me.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath, his hands still cupping my waist, his thumbs gently brushing over my skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with yearning.

I smiled up at him, my hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him down for another kiss. “So are you.”

It was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. And yet, as his hand slid down my side, I felt a flicker of something else. This isn’t me, I thought, not for the first time tonight. The quiet, careful girl who played it safe, who kept her feelings locked away, wouldn’t have ended up here. But with Hank—with him—everything felt different. It wasn’t just the heat between us or the way his touch made my body come alive. It was the way he looked at me, the way he saw me, like there was no one else in the world but us.

And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

His fingers traced lower, along the length of my thigh, caressing the sensitive skin there. He kissed just beneath my ear, and I could feel the soft brush of his hair as he moved, his breath heavy but controlled. Hank’s hand moved between my legs, his fingers parting me gently, slick with my wetness, exploring with a careful but knowing touch. My breath caught, and I let out a soft moan, my body arching into him, craving more. I could feel the tension building inside me, every nerve alight with sensation, and the way he touched me—so deliberate, so focused—made the moment feel even more intense.

He lifted his head, his lips brushing against mine as he met my gaze, his blue eyes dark and full of need. There was something in the way he looked at me, something that made my heart pound even harder—like he was asking for more than just permission. He was asking for trust.

And I gave it to him.

My hips shifted with his movements, my body instinctively responding as his fingers pressed deeper, working in rhythm with my rising need. His touch sent waves of heat through me, building toward a release I could feel just out of reach. His lips moved against mine, his breath ragged as he murmured my name, his voice thick with want. I could feel the urgency in every kiss, every movement, as he drew me closer to the edge.

This wasn’t me—this wasn’t who I normally was. I didn’t do this. I didn’t sleep with men I’d just met. I had always been cautious, reserved, taking my time before giving myself over to moments like this. But with Hank, none of that mattered. There was something different here—something raw and honest that made me let go in a way I never had before.

I wasn’t inexperienced, far from it. I knew what I wanted, and right now, I wanted him. It wasn’t the uncertainty of the newness that had me trembling beneath him; it was the way he made me feel like this was more than just the moment. It was the way he looked at me like he saw me—like I wasn’t just a passing encounter, but something real.

Without breaking our connection, Hank shifted, his mouth moving lower as his fingers continued their steady rhythm. My hands tangled in his hair as I guided him down, my body urging him on. Then his lips were on me, soft and insistent, sending another rush of pleasure through me. My hand moved to grip the sheets beside me as he sucked gently, amplifying the sensation while his fingers stayed firm, working me toward release. I gasped, my legs tightening around him, instinctively holding him there as I let go completely, my body giving in as the waves of pleasure crashed over me.

I’d never let go like this before—not with someone I’d just met. But right now, I wasn’t thinking about what was usual or expected. I was just thinking about him.

Breathless, I felt him move back up, laying the length of his body gently against mine. Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, tasting the remnants of my release on his lips. When I finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough, filled with both satisfaction and unspoken need.

My heart raced, still buzzing from the release, and I breathed out a soft, teasing reply. “Not done yet,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jaw. The warmth of his skin against mine only fuelled the fire that hadn’t quite faded.

With a shift of my hips, I surprised both of us, rolling him over beneath me. Hank let out a low groan, his hands instinctively settling on my waist as I straddled him, my confidence growing as I took control. His eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger, and I could feel the rapid beat of his heart under my palms as I pressed them firmly to his chest.

“You like that?” I whispered, his answer was another groan, deeper this time, as his hands gripped my hips a little tighter. “You have no idea,” he growled, his voice full of want.

I leaned down, letting my lips barely graze his, keeping him just on the edge of what he craved, knowing I was the one in control now.

I hovered just above him, our breaths coming fast, feeling the heat radiating from his body, knowing he wanted more—needed more. But I held back, teasing him with the lightest brush of my lips, making him wait, making him want it as much as I did. His grip tightened on me, his fingers pressing into my skin as he resisted the urge to take control again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

I smirked against his lips, revelling in the power I had over him in that moment. “Good,” I whispered, barely audible, before pressing my lips to his in a deep, languid kiss that made his whole body tense beneath me.

Hank groaned into my mouth as I moved my hips ever so slightly, teasing him with the smallest amount of friction. His body reacted immediately, his hands gripping my waist with a new urgency, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I wanted to savour every second of this, every sound he made, every look in his eyes.

“Please,” he muttered against my lips, his voice hoarse, laced with desperation that sent a thrill through me.

I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the tension in his muscles. “I’m just getting started,” I teased, lowering my lips to his neck, letting my teeth gently graze the skin there, sending a shiver through him. The soft gasp that escaped his lips sent a thrill through me, and I knew I was in control now.

He let out a low growl, his control slipping just enough that I could feel the shift in his body, the tension coiling tighter, and it sent another rush of excitement through me. I rocked my hips again, this time giving him just a little more of what he wanted, and the sound he made—deep, desperate—was enough to make my pulse race.

He tried to move beneath me, but I pressed him back down, holding him there with just a look, my body hovering above his as I whispered, “Let me.”

His breath hitched, his hands stilling on my waist as he nodded, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but need. He was completely mine in that moment, and the feeling was electric.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, taking his entire length with one long, languid thrust. I began to move, letting the rhythm build between us, each motion deliberate, but this time, I wasn’t holding back. His hands tightened on my hips, guiding me as I set the pace, every sound he made spurring me on.

I didn’t think about anything except the feel of him. It was the not thinking I loved most, the not thinking that I never wanted to end.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice almost reverent as his eyes met mine, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “I can’t… get enough of you.”

The words sent a surge of heat through me, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the tension between us spiralled higher. His hands roamed over my body, tracing every curve, every line, and I could feel the restraint slipping from both of us, the heat between us burning hotter with each passing second.

I leaned down, letting my lips capture his again, this time deeper, my tongue sliding against his, claiming him just as he claimed me. His hands gripped my hips tighter, matching my pace as the intensity grew, our bodies completely in sync, every breath, every movement pushing us closer to the edge.

“Hank,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as I rocked against him, my body trembling with the intensity of it all.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice raw and full of promise. And then, with a swift movement, he sat up, pulling me with him so I was still straddling his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as his lips moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I gasped as he left soft love bites along my collarbone and down the side of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, each kiss, each bite sending a new wave of heat through me.

I gripped the back of his neck, my fingers digging into his skin as I arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation as his mouth worked its way across my skin, leaving a trail of pleasure in its wake.

The tension between us spiralled higher, my release building fast as my body tightened around him, the pleasure growing more intense with each second. His lips stayed on my neck, hands gripping my hips as he urged me to move, guiding me to grind harder against him. That added pressure sent me over the edge, and with one final push, I shattered, the pleasure crashing over me in waves.

Hank’s name escaped my lips in a broken whisper as I came undone above him, my body shaking with the force of my release, wave after wave, my mind completely lost in him. I felt him follow soon after, his grip tightening on my hips as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath ragged and hot against my skin as his own release overtook him. His body tensed beneath me, and I could feel the shudder that went through him as we rode the high together, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our bodies tangled together, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as we slowly came down from the high. His lips brushed my collarbone once more, softer this time, tender, before he leaned back, his eyes meeting mine.

“You…” he started, his voice hoarse, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t have words.”

I smiled back, my own heart still racing, but this time, it wasn’t just from the intensity of the moment—it was from the way he looked at me, like I was something more. Something important. “Good,” I whispered, my voice just as raw, “I don’t need them.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slid up my back, pulling me close once again. I curled up against him, my head resting on his chest as our breaths slowly synced. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath me, feel the warmth of his skin, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely at peace.

And as we sat there, tangled together, I knew that whatever this was—whatever we were—it was only just beginning.

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 11: our penance

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: angst, drug abuse, references to suicide attempts

a/n: one more chapter after this!

series masterlist

Dreams created a reality so poignant, so desirable, that when you woke the lines between that land and this were blurred so well you had difficulty differentiating. Did they actually come back to say they still wanted you, that this wasn’t over? Or was that some sick sleep induced hallucination? It took a few hours to become clear, but ...

Hallucination was always the answer. Always. 

Deep in your mind, you imagined their forms outside of your window, moths hovering close to your flame, willing to throw themselves into the fire just to feel that sweet heat one last time. It was never truth.

-

Nesta knew it was wrong to hang out here, outside of your apartment, just begging for a glimpse of you; but she knew you left your window blinds wide open and told herself that you did it on purpose, for her. Hoping Nesta or Cassian might come and watch you. Or perhaps in protest because each time Nesta and Cassian had seen you they’d closed the blinds again. 

“Can't have anyone spying on you,” Cassian planted a kiss on your forehead. Nesta laughed as she pushed past him, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

This was heaven, here with you. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect it. 

But Nesta hadn’t, and you deserved someone who would go that far for you. She couldn't be that person. 

Maybe, however, you both just needed a hint of closure. Something to ease the sting. It had begun the two of you, maybe it needed to end that way. 

She stood from her post on the shadowy bench across the street from your place. A swirling wind shook the leaves from the trees lining the street, raining them down on her like she’d personally angered it. 

Nesta barely made it a step into the sidewalk when a wing snapped in front of her. Not Cassian’s. 

Azriel’s shadows twirled around it as he followed, stepping into its path. 

He didn’t ask where she was going, or what she was planning. Those shadows of his undoubtedly told him everything he needed to know. 

“Move,” she ordered. 

“I’d say you've hurt her enough,” Azriel commented. She heard the sound of a smashing glass. “And he’ll kill me if I let you put yourself in that situation.” 

Another glass smashed. A scream followed. Guttural, raw, and pained. 

Your scream. She pictured your body lying over the bed, wrists bleeding out onto the carpet; her scream as she slid to you and clutched the wounds, praying to the mother and for once cursing she had nothing to give back, cursing the world if she lost you, cursing just to bring some kind of sentiment at the end. 

Arms wrapped around her, tentative, unfamiliar. Wings closed in, bathing her in shadow and darkness. 

“It will be alright,” Azriel murmured the words of comfort as if they were unfamiliar to him. 

Wet drops stained her collar, splashing against her skin and slipping through the small gap. Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying. 

-

Nesta would kill him when she found out, but he had to see you, to see how you were doing. If you were still... Reason said it wasn’t his problem, not anymore, but he still felt like he was abandoning you to the wolves by leaving like that. Only this time, the wolves were your own mind. 

Cassian creaked your door open. Through the main room, your bedroom door was cracked open, just enough for him to see a hand hanging over the edge. 

He blinked, the red clearing from his vision, revealing perfectly unwounded skin. He moved a bit closer, hanging just outside your door, he heard your heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive. Perhaps a bit fast, but ... he glanced over his shoulder at the clock. It was unusual for you to sleep around this time, you’d never been much of a napper. 

Not his problem. No, not problem, he lost the right to be concerned two days ago. 

An unusual shape on the kitchen table caught his attention, and Mother curse him he was too fucking nosy to be in here. 

Still, Cassian investigated. 

He flipped the bottle around, freezing as the pills inside made a jingling sound. Several breaths, no movement from the other room. 

Sleeping pills. You’d found someone who would prescribe sleeping pills to you. 

He had half a mind to find that doctor and rip him to pieces. Still, not his right to be concerned anymore. 

Guilt at his actions burrowing deep in his stomach, he left his place exactly as he found it. Enough Azriel might even be proud. 

“I knew you’d do that,” as if his thoughts had summoned the male, he stepped from the shadows. “Rhys asked me to keep both of you away.” It was unlike Azriel to offer up this information, so Cassian kept his mouth shut in hopes of more. “But I would’ve done the same thing.” 

Had Azriel done the same thing in the past? He’d always been so secretive with his lovers ... None of his business. 

Right now, Cassian felt as if he mattered to nothing and no-one. No amount of love had been enough, no amount of desire or care. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel said, nudging his forward with his wind. 

Some big, tough, brave general he was. Walking away from his ex-girlfriend’s apartment building with his head hanging low. 

-

The Gods must be growing tired of you and your bullshit, let alone the Mother. That was a fact. All you did was run around and make a mess of things. 

You glanced at the bottle of pills sitting on your counter. Hadn’t they been on your kitchen table before? It didn’t really matter, as long as they were still there. If anyone had been in here, they hadn’t cared enough to take them away from you, and since rational was out the window that meant they obviously wanted you to take them, didn’t it?

You wondered what would happen if you dumped the entire bottle down your throat. 

No. 

In your twisted brain, it would mean they won. 

And in your own way, you were ready to bite back. 

-

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy  @idkmyoldonewasembarassing

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16 

[kikker-oma]

Wild Gets Snapchat

The SEQUEL to the SEQUEL

THE FINALE

oh my goodness I cringed so hard reading my older ones but I hope this is better 😅

Oh and I am absolutely destroying Sky in this chapter. I love him so much but I just wanna test out this head canon lol.

ALSO I CAN NOT WRITE MEAN POSTS JUST PRETEND THEIR RUDER LOL. THIS IS ALSO A REMINDER TO ALWAYS BE CAREFUL WHAT U POST ONLINE TO WHOEVER SEES THIS, WORDS HURT AND KINDNESS IS FREE!

____

So maybe he never gotten Snapchat, or perhaps it was the time he messed up with, as the Hero of Time notoriously named, 'Tiktoking'. But this time the champion was serious about this one! He promised!

He could post his food, and get other recipes. What's not to love about the-The champion quickly squinted at the letters, the nights of staring at the slate in the pitch black wearing at his eyeballs. Right he mouthed, his voice a wordless whisper, The Tumblr.

This time, he thankfully learned the old man's password, courtesy of some gentle persuasion (Sorry, Twilight. Didn't mean to give you chocolate). He questioned whether or not Time was forced by Malon to pick said password, but it didn't matter.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" The questioning voice of the chosen hero startled Wild out of his scrolling trance, "That can't be good for your vision."

The fellow hero quickly forced a smile in return, turning over his slate instinctively towards his chest, hiding its contents, "Just looking through some... pictures." The tone sounded hazy towards the end, almost as if questioning his own statement.

Sky didn't give a hint of skepticism from that answer, only placing a sturdy hand on his shoulder before talking, his voice a gentle kind of care that couldn't be matched, "Alright, just get some sleep, 'kay?"

Wild fidgeted his thumbs, clicking the button on the slate to instal without causing alarm, "Okay, goodnight Sky."

And with one last smile, the hero went back to bed.

The next morning, the champion lagged behind the group. His eyes were at work scanning the slate. Different blogs shown up, many that displayed an uncanny resemblance to his adventures, current and past.

Odd.

Looking through more posts, one struck his eye.

I'm starting to regret Hylia's choice of heroes... The writing wrote, intrigued, Wild clicked on the blog.

Chosen_Hero_246

Wasn't Sky the chosen hero? Wild quickly pushed down that question, Sky was sweet. Sky would never do much as step on a fly. Scrolling through the blog, he couldn't help but feel like these... coincidences... were not as much as coincidences anymore.

Smith isn't even that smart, so what if you could hit some metal? I forged this blade too, and last time I checked you didn't go to a proper academy.

Rude. Four is quite the intelligent guy.

Scrolling deeper, he could almost feel the blade of the next words cutting into his heart before he even laid eyes on them.

I think the heroes are getting lazy. I mean, they didn't do a lot of work.

Well, sorry, Tumblr-Sky, didn't know being dead for a hundred years was being lazy. He didn't know having everybody he knew die was being lazy. He didn't know having to carry the award for the biggest fault in the world was being lazy.

And just like that, the slate dropped.

Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down to the now black screen, before a faux-warm presence stood next to him.

"What's wrong?" The voice of the chosen hero that once sounded like a mother holding her child tight felt hollow, yet the ears perceived the voice the same, "You look upset."

"I am upset."

The embrace he received felt as if it was given by air itself. Empty. Nothing. The warmth didn't meet his nerves. The smell of cleaned laundry blown away. The sound of rustling fabric deafened by the wind. The look of comfort now blinded through a salty cloud in his eyes.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm here." His grip felt pinching, nails that once gone unnoticed digging into his scarred flesh.

He couldn't even bring himself to nod back.

Some things were meant to be left inside the head.

Some things were meant to not be downloaded.

(sorry I've been off Tumblr for a few days)

NOOOOOO NOT SKY, THIS CAN'T BEEE

say it aint so😭😭😭😭 not the vent account! I'll throw hands with Sky💥💥💥 but oh sweet poor Wild🥺 yeah sometimes ignorance is bliss. Hopefully sky doesn't actually think these things about his brothers, tho I understand sometimes you need to vent to get out all the bad thoughts.

NOT THE FAKE HUUGGGGG RAAAHHH BLARE YOU HURT ME SO

[fadeintolight]

god let me pull just one all nighter for old times sake 🙏 but without all the nausea and heart palpitations pls

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

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

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

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

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[of-many-fandomss]

Drinks and Jackets

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

warnings: drinking, slight cursing

word count: 0.9k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.

“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.

Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.

You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.

The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.

At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”

You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”

“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.

And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.

Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.

Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.

You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.

Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.

“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.

“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.

“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.

A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.

You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.

Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.

So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.

“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.

“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”

[your-internet-bf]

I have a bad habit of looking at other people's phones in public. Someday, I think I'll look at a cute girl's screen and see the sorta shit I like - bondage, rape, deep, strong fucking. You'd scroll past as quick as you can, of course, since it's embarrassing to be caught looking at that in public... But I'd know.

It's not hard to follow people, especially in a city. Nobody expects to be followed; you'd never even notice. Maybe you catch a glimpse of me through the corner of your eye, but it's just a coincidence that I've been behind you the past eight blocks, right? Right?

I've been camping outside your place, watching through the window. It wasn't hard, and you haven't noticed anything more than a shadow. But it's dark out now, and very late, and I climb up to your window to get a better view.

I see you reclined in your bed, rubbing and pounding as hard as you can, your brow furrowed and your lips open in a silent moan as you try to hide your, what, fourth orgasm of the night? I watch, every inch of my cock throbbing, aching, waiting for my turn.

You turn off your phone, close your eyes, and you - raw, red, exhausted you - try to sleep. I wait a few minutes just to be sure, feeling myself over my clothes, before trying your window. It's a rush when I find it unlocked - you are EXACTLY the kind of girl I thought you were. Silently, the window slides open, and I follow the cool night air into your bedroom.

You're prettier up close. I've been studying you for hours now, of course, but I hadn't noticed just how soft your skin was, or how smooth your curves... I pull down your covers, revealing that you didn't bother to put anything on after you came. Your slick, abused cunt is so inviting; every cell in my body is screaming at me to tear you open with my cock, to ruin you, to pound your cervix up into your tummy, but there's something I need to do first...

I take a quick moment to undress, quietly, the soft clink of my belt buckle being the only sound other than our breathing, already starting to mix in the darkness. Then all at once I pounce, pushing you onto your front, gripping your waist from behind, and ramming my cock dry into your ass.

It hurts. I want it to hurt.

You're scared. I want you to be scared.

Maybe you've been with a guy before, maybe you haven't, maybe you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or spouse right now; it doesn't matter to me. With my size, every hole feels tight, especially a victim.

I feel you writhe beneath me, trying to get away, but I won't let you. I take one of my hands off your waist and, balling up your hair in one fist, wrench your head back.

"You," I whisper, my breath hot on your cheek, "aren't going anywhere, pretty girl."

I push your face down into your bed and keep going, pounding, breaking, raping your ass. You feel my breath on you, my sweat on you, the smell of me overwhelming even as I'm intoxicated by yours. I yank your head back up and take a deep breath in at the back of your neck, moaning as I breathe out. As I pause, you raise your hips into me, whimpering, and I know you need me to keep going.

Because you need it, don't you? You need a big, strong man, smelling like sweat and power, to rape you, don't you? To completely make you mine, to turn you into a sobbing, soaking mess, to mold you around my filthy, throbbing cock. Say it now, say that you need it, that you're a needy slut, say it out loud...

So I continue. Taking the other hand back to your waist, I redouble my work, straining inside you. I reach down to slap your soaking pussy and rub your wetness on me, and keep going. In and out, in and out, in and out, my girth spreading your ass so wide, so painfully, you can barely think. But I know you need it, and I'm so close now.

My breath comes faster, catching in my throat, and you feel a hard thrust, then another, another, another, and finally, I ram into you so hard we both collapse into your bed... And you feel the thick, white cum shoot into you. Warm, heavy, sticky, it fills your insides as my cock pulses thick and strong inside you, my breath warm on your neck as I force you to cockwarm me.

I kiss your soft, pretty skin as you sob into your pillow. I grind into you as I do, and my cum leaks out, a slow stream rolling down from your ruined ass towards that gaping, aching cunt. After a minute, I pull out, and push you onto your back. You get a brief glimpse at my face through the tears - long, long eyelashes framing deep gray eyes - before I steal a kiss. Your tears make it salty, and you feel me smile, pressed up against your lips.

"You needed it, didn't you?" I ask, still grinning.

Weakly, you nod. "Mhmm..." You draw in another shaky breath.

"Good, good girl." I lean back and reach for my cock - I'm still hard. I still need you.

You know what you are now. You'd suspected it before, but now you know what you are, what you need, and so do I. You spread your legs for me, this time willingly, begging me to come make you mine...

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[remuslupinslittleslut]

hiii lovely! could you do a poly!marauders one where the reader wakes up needy and decides to relieve herself by grinding one of the marauders' thighs, leading to her being slowly and passionately fucked by all of them?

I think maybe I need to work on following instructions, I just took this and went with what turned me on at the time, hope you enjoy anyway 🩷 I think I'm not that good at slow and passionate....

Masterlist.

James had his tongue buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair, back arched and hips grinding down against his face. You shuddered as the edge of that one cliff came closer and closer.

Waking up was a disappointment. No James between your thighs (which was always a disappointment). It hadn’t all been a dream though, your hips had been grinding against something, only, not James’ tongue. Sirius was laying behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, your hair tickling his cheeks where it lay, pressed into your neck. His thigh was shoved between yours, and you realized you had been using it, in your sleep, to get off against. Sirius had beautiful thighs. Fleshy. They weren’t quite as good as James’ face, but not that far off. The memory of your dream fresh in your mind, along with the lovely thoughts of Sirius’ thighs, you decided to keep going, using his thigh to rub your clit against.

It took a few moments to get that really good feeling back, your orgasm having slipped away as you woke up. You tried to replay the dream from your inner eye, focusing your every thought on the feeling of James’ tongue against your clit.

Sirius’ arms wrapped harder around you pulling you closer, thighs flexing from between yours.

“Morning love,” his raspy voice murmured into your neck. “Having fun?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, hips moving in tandem with the flex of his thigh. “Ah- so much fun.”

You couldn’t help the moans escaping your mouth as his hands moved to your hips, guiding you against him, lips kissing down your shoulder.

“Such a pretty girl, getting off against my thigh, even in your sleep?”

“Y-ah-yes.”

Using his grip on your hips, he stilled your body, stopping your hips from moving, making you whine out in protest.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, lips against your ear, “just wanna be inside you.”

“Nghh,” you groaned, unable to wait a second longer for the feeling of Sirius’ cock inside you. Pushing your hips back against his crotch, you tried expressing your want without words. Thankfully, Sirius was used to your antics and lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your already dampened hole, pushing in softly, spreading slick around, readying you for him. Grinding back once more, your body told him to hurry the eff up.

“I’ve got you babe,” he murmured, “just gotta get you ready.”

Only a few seconds later, he pushed down his own underpants, freeing his cock, giving it a few pumps before pushing your side slightly, moving you to lay partly on your side and partly on your tummy. Taking one strong hold on your hip, and using one hand to line himself up, it wasn’t long before he pushed himself inside of you, letting a loud groan out.

“Fuck, babe, feel so good,” he said, hips thrusting against your backside. “What got you this wet huh? Did you have a nice dream?”

Your cheeks burned; getting off against one of your boyfriends was one thing, telling him about your wet dreams about your other boyfriend was different. But Sirius felt so good inside you, and you knew he’d enjoy it if you told him, so you bit back your embarrassment and told him.

“Ye-ah,” your voice came out broken, his thrusts were more passionate than usual, long and languid strokes, taking his time, but you still struggled to speak through it. “I dreamed– that – oh – Jamie was – going down on me – he’s so – go-od at that.”

The hand on your hip squeezed harder as Sirius’ other came around to squeeze your tit.

“He really is good at that, maybe he should do it now, huh?” His words made you moan. “Jamie? Will you take care of our girl? She needs your mouth, I think.”

You hadn’t even realized that James and Remus had woken, but it wasn’t surprising; you weren’t exactly being quiet. When you met his eye, James looked at you with so much love in his eyes, adoration written all over his face.

“Sure thing,” he said, quickly looking over your shoulder to meet Sirius’ (whose hips had slowed down even more) eye. Looking back at you, James leaned in for a quick kiss and a “good morning, love,” before he dipped down along the bed, settling in between your thighs, hands caressing your milky skin.

As James got to work, tongue lapping with skill at your clit, Sirius kept moving his hips, dragging the head of his cock against your walls, reaching the most lovely places of your center. Just like you had in your dream, you reach your hand down to grab a hold of James’ hair, grinding your hips against his mouth and chin. Unlike your dream, though, you were also grinding back against Sirius, who stopped moving his hips, allowing you to get yourself off using him.

“Damn, babe, you’re so hot, so beautiful for us, so good, getting yourself off huh? Using my cock and Jamies’ face like the little cockslut that you are? Yeah, doing wonderful my love,” Sirius murmured against your neck, the grip on your hip having gotten softer, allowing you to move at your own accord.

James, whose mouth was slightly occupied, only hummed in agreement, as his tongue swirled around your nub.

Knowing how much his words affected you, Sirius kept talking you through it.

“Good girl, that’s it, does it feel good? Is Jamie doing well? D’you like my cock inside you? Are you gonna let Remmy have a go after you’ve milked me? Gotta take care of out moony y’know– fuck, look at him, watching you, he thinks you’re so pretty, our pretty girl, doing so well, are you gonna come? Gonna come all over me, and Jamie? Ready and open for Rem?”

He spoke absolute filth into your neck and ear, nipping at the skin, licking and biting at it, it sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel that edge getting closer again. You did as Sirius said, looked at Remus, who had now sat himself up, leaning against the wall, pants pulled down to his thighs, hand around his cock, pumping slowly, eyes roaming over your body, you face, your tits, where Sirius played with your nipple, down to your core, where James’ head was stuck between your thighs as your hips ground against him.

It was all so hot, and as Sirius kept coaxing you to come, you finally did, hips stuttering and thighs squeezing James’ head. If you weren’t in the middle of an orgasm, you might be worried about hurting him, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“Pretty girl, doing so well,” Sirius said, moving your hair out of your face as your body kept convulsing. “Lay down on your tummy for me, babe.”

You did as you were told, and Sirius moved behind you, without ever pulling out completely. Straddling the backs of your thighs, he squeezed your arsecheek hard before he thrust himself inside you. It was almost too much, the cock you had just came around still being shoved inside you, but it also felt good, and you knew Sirius was close and that the feeling of him coming inside you would be worth the overstimulation.

“Hurry up Pads,” Remus groaned. His hand was no longer wrapped around himself, but rather around James’ now soft cock. It wasn’t the first time he’d come untouched from eating you out; in fact, he often did, but Remus would always enjoy taking one more from him, tugging at his soft and aching member, forcing him to give up just one more orgasm. “My turn soon.”

Trying to speed up the process, always ready to please Remus, you tried squeezing your walls around Sirius in time with his thrusts, tensing your muscles and using that grip to milk him dry.

You were rather successful. It wasn’t many seconds before he grunted as he came inside you, hips stilling and head falling down to kiss the back of yours.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, before pushing himself up and off of you, moving to lay beside you. “Go ahead, moons.”

Remus flipped you over, apparently done with James’ spent cock.

“Hi darling,” he said, sitting next to you, face leaned down to kiss you. “Sleep well?”

“Morning Remmy, yeah, I did, you?” Your voice was still airy, still affected by your orgasm.

“Slept like a prince, baby, loved waking up to your little moans about Jamie’s mouth,” he teased, leaning away from your face and straddling your chest. “Are you gonna let me fuck your face now, baby? It won’t take long, promise, just need your mouth right now.”

His words felt like a mocking of your dream and your words about James, but it was sexy nonetheless, turning you on again, leaning your head back against the pillow and allowing your mouth to fall open. Instead of answering verbally, your tongue fell out and you relaxed your throat, showing Remus that you were ready for him.

“Such a good girl,” he said, raising his hips and feeding his cock into your mouth.

Focusing on your breathing and staying still and laxed for him, you allowed his cock into your mouth, his hips already stuttering from the feeling. His one hand was around his base and the other laid against your cheek, sometimes moving his cock to push against your cheek, feeling it with his hand.

Normally, you wouldn’t allow Remus to fuck your face like this, his cock was too big and it always bruised the back of your throat, but he did say he would be quick – and he was. The hand against your cheek wiping away the first set of tears running down your face, and it was as if the contact of thumb and tear pulled him apart because he was spilling inside your throat, cock slightly vibrating, and spurting come, filling your entire mouth.“Now that’s a good morning,” he murmured as he moved to lay beside you, kissing your entire face, licking into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue. “Let’s get cleaned up, I’ll eat you out in the shower.” He added as a response to your groaning, not ready for the day to start.

[thoughtssvt]

suguru conditioned you to get wet every time he tied his hair up.

over the years he got into the habit of letting his hair relax. he wore it down with the new found confidence that came from your compliments and 'hey handsome's.

the only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was shirtless between your legs.

if there was one thing he hated it was getting interrupted while he ate. he could allow his hair getting in the way when he was kissing you, holding you close. he liked the feeling of your fingers running across his scalp. he especially liked the tug you gave it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, tongue laving and circling. a chuckle buzzing through his lips as you arched up into him.

that he could handle, but once he was face to face with your pussy he wouldn't allow it. he'd sit back on his haunches, skillfully gathering his hair into his palms with his thumbs. maybe it was just something about the way he looked down at you, carnally, ready to devour you with no restraint. maybe it was the way you knew he would do just that like he'd done so many times before.

he would run his hands up and down your thighs once his arms dropped to his sides. he'd leave soft kisses against your knee, guiding them down as he laid on his front. if your head wasn't so cloudy you would whine at the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at your glistening cunt.

"i haven't done much and you're already this wet?" he'd chuckle softly, so close to your skin that it felt like love wiring running under your skin, your hips bucking up into him. he'd hush you, reassure you that he'd give you everything you needed as he kissed just right above your twitching button.

"always so needy," he commented leaving open mouthed kisses on your outer lips, and though it was meant to come off snarky you couldn't help but keen like it was praise.

the first lick was always mind numbing. you held your breath as you felt his thumbs spread you open, watching his eyes flutter closed as he guided a flat tongue between your folds, the muscle giving your clit a gentle flick before he sucked it into his mouth. it was then you let your breath go, a whiny moan forcing it out.

"mmm," he hummed around you making your legs snap around his head as it shot pleasure down to your toes. "ah, ah, don't interrupt me while i eat, honey," he scolded softly, large hands prying your legs open so he could spread you up and open, pushing your knees to your chest so he could feast uninterrupted.

maybe it was better he kept his hair up despite how much you liked to tug on it. it let him focus in on your pleasure. he took his time, each move slow and calculated. he knew exactly what made your legs shake and what to do when he wanted you to suck in a deep breath, hands shooting up to the sides of your head to grip your pillow for stability.

he'd lightly scrape his nails against the sensitive skin of your thighs as he switched between slow, broad stripes against your clit to lip-bitingly quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. he'd bob his head, the gentle suck on your bud a tantalizing combo with the way the muscle swirled around it.

"so good, can't get enough of you," he'd sigh as he dropped down to your hole, gently kissing your clenching entrance before pushing his tongue in as deep it could go. he moaned at the way you twitched around him, hot and wet on his tongue.

he'd reach a hand up so his thumb could toy with your clit as he drank down your juices, steadily tongue-fucking you until your climax.

when you got your vision back there he was again, looking down at you with carnal desire, biceps bulging as he scooped his hair up into a secure bun once more, because he was definitely far from done with you.

A/N : i may have gotten carried away, i was about to go to sleep... and this was so not planned, I was supposed to write cute headcanons of how the jjk men start your apples for you. anyway I hope you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated

j‹𝟹

jjk men x reader masterlist

mdni banner by hitobaby

drip divider

[gremlingottoosilly]

I NEED MORE SEA BUNNY USER 😭🙏

You're a sleepy, fragile thing. Konig doesn't understand how you weren't snatched by some stray predator merhybrid, but he is glad you're safe now, fully in his grasp. He lets you swim sometimes, watching you over you carefully as you would get out of the murky cave and into the clean waters of the upper ocean levels. He can't quite follow you here - too bright, too noisy for his liking, his body isn't adapted to the levels of pressure, and his mind is not ready to meet the chaotic brightness of normal hybrids - but he knows you're way too weak to escape him now. You're drowning in his scent, his brood growing in your belly, with every mermaid you once knew now terrified of a pretty thing being slowly consumed by the darkness of eldritch merfolks. Konig knows he is corrupting you - making you sleepy and drowsy in his arms, dragging you down with him, inside the cave again. You don't even miss the sun or the warm water all that much - you just cling to him, pushing your pretty face into his muscular chest and asking him to make you a nest of softer kelp you gathered near the surface. He can't resist his mate's wishes, even if the sweet scent and soft texture make him sick. He isn't used to this - he'd be afraid that the children are going to turn out weak if only he wasn't planning to eat the weaker part anyway. Makes it easier to get you nice and pregnant again, slowly stuffing your needy holes with his tentacles until you can't nap without being filled by him anymore. He brings you gifts - something he stole from other mermaids, probably after killing and consuming them. Poor things, they forgot how to respect his territory...and they paid the price tenfold, making him laugh every time it gets brought up. You like to sort out through your growing collection, your every waking moment filled with either sex, food or playing - and sometimes everything at the same time. It was harder to adjust to bringing you some plants to eat and only sometimes mixing in some shrimp, but Konig knew you had to eat more in order to be bred properly...and to raise adorable little hybrid children that he could allow you to raise. Maybe. You sleep together in the nest he built for you, his tentacles wrapping around you in a protective hold. He makes his skin warmer, acting as a heater in cold, dark water, and you nuzzle your pretty face and even prettier pseudo-fluffy features against his chest, searching for the warmness you crave. You can't even rest without his affection sometimes, too attached to his body heat.

[goldsbitch]

remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

//

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."