#nice thing to agonize over for the next year+

[ileftmysoulinnorway]

What happened?

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 2.06 | 1.05 | 2.08

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

König and bondage

Warnings: bondage (könig is tied up), female reader, riding, p in v, pain during sex

A/n: if in real life a guy doesn't slow down or be gentle when you ask, DUMP HIM

König can't bring himself to not rail you during sex, once he is inside you he can't hold himself back. He fucks your pussy raw until you are sore for days. It feels good for both of you, but not so much the next day. So one day you both decide to tie his hands to a headboard so you can go slower but things don't quite go according to plan.

With könig restricted to the headboard with fluffy pink handcuffs, you begin stripping at the foot of the bed while könig watches.

"fuck baby, stop teasing me" he growls out as you strip to slowly for his liking when you are fully naked, you make your way to his naked, exposed form. Usually könig would have you pinned and stretched around his cock by now, it's nice to have control and go slower. You jack him off while sucking on his tip gently, enjoying giving him pleasure without hurting your throat.

"take- take it deeper. Now" könig growls and thrusts up into your throat, getting antsy when he can't fuck your throat.

"patience baby" you hum, pulling your mouth away and climbing up higher. To be entirely honest, the power feels nice, being able to control a giant military man is good for the ego. You rub your heat against his throbbing cock, not putting him inside yet. Just when he goes to complain, you begin pressing hit tip into your cunt, groaning softly when it pops into you.

"just, fuck schatzchen you feel good, take it deeper, take it all the way. now" he growls out, partially using his military voice to command you on his cock. The handcuffs scrape against your headboard as he pulls on his restraints. This is more agonizing than any form of torture he's experienced in his many years in the military. He wants, he needs to rail you into the mattress and he can't.

At this moment you realize just how big his dick is as you struggle to impale yourself on him. The sting isn't as pleasurable as usual and your thighs shake and cramp at the strain of hovering over his length.

"kö I can't, fuck" soft whimpers leave your mouth as you try and fail to sink down on his length. You find yourself begging him to take you, despite knowing he can't grab you. He tries to fuck into you, but can't find the leverage to sink into you as deep as he needs.

"princess, need you to sink deeper. Drop onto me girl, I know you can" he finds himself growing impatient as his cock is uncomfortably cold, your slick dripping down his exposed dick. The sound of wood scraping and creaking fills the room. In your desperate haze you can't quite place what's happening until a loud snap resonates through the air.

"there we go princess, can finally fuck you how you deserve." His chained hands grip your waist and slam you down on his length. He plants his feet on the mattress and fucks up into you as you moan and keen in pleasure.

Sweat lays hair down on königs forehead from excursion as he fucks you from underneath you. His hands squeeze your waist as he slams you down on him, your ass meeting his thighs with each thrust. He feels you so deep his pubic bone grinds against your clit. One of his hands travels down your body to circle your clit and bring you closer to your release.

"cum on my dick schatz, be a good girl and cum for me." He circles your clit faster as his hips begins stuttering their thrusts as he gets closer. After some more rough fucking, you cum on his dick. As your pussy spasms around him, he is pushed over the edge and cums inside of you.

"that's it princess, yeah cum on my cock" he fucks you both through your high. After you both come down from your intense orgasm, he cradles you against his chest to hold you close. As you both pant with him slowly softening inside of you, the realization that your bedframe is broken causes you to sigh.

"and now I need a new bedframe." However you can't bring yourself to be upset after that good fucking. You cuddle into his chest, deciding to deal with the bedframe issue another day.

[corroded-hellfire]

Passing Through - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Being the new kid in a small town like Hawkins is tough. One late October day though, you meet Eddie, and he’s always looking out for those lost sheep.

Note: Happy Halloween 🎃

Words: 2.8k

In the great game of life, you have been given a shitty hand of cards to play this round. Starting at a new high school for junior year is an agonizing yet hazy experience. You have to start over in a place where cliques have already formed, and most people have known each other since kindergarten. The best shot you have at making friends is praying there are souls kind enough to include you in their group. Or maybe there are other pariahs you could collect along the way and have your own island of misfit toys.

On the other hand, even if this experience is completely horrible, it’s only a short two years that you have to endure it. It will feel like a lifetime, but maybe you could keep your head down and push through. 

School has been in session for about two months now. The leaves are changing to the browns, reds, and yellows that always accompany the smell of fireplaces burning for the first time in months and the sickly sweet scent of apple and pumpkin permeating everything. 

Late October is always a nice chance to wear comfy sweaters and cute scarves, bundling up as you take in the views of this time of year. Jack-o-lanterns litter the sidewalks, a few even placed around the high school campus. Children laughing and jumping in any pile of leaves that would permit them to make a mess. The outside aesthetic clashes with the churning, icy storm inside of you. 

There are a few people you’ve met that you’d consider friends, yet not anyone you feel you can confide in about how alien you feel around the other teens of this small town. 

Of course, there are mean girls everywhere and they never miss a chance to pounce on fresh meat. You’ve lost count of the things you heard said about you, but some of them even made you laugh. You wish you were cool enough to be here because your family is on the run. At least it would be something exciting. It’s also better than the other rumor that you taxidermy animals in your basement and now you’re looking for people to practice on. Someone obviously watched Psycho the night before they came up with that one.

Once in a while you’ve tried to sit with some of the friends you made at lunch, but you always felt out of place. You decided to start exploring the school during your lunch period instead. Sometimes you’d have your sandwich on the bleachers in the gym or have your cup of noodles under the large oak tree next to the science building. 

Today, there’s a gentle breeze and, bundled up in your soft brown sweater, you decide to perch yourself on the short wall in front of the school. You settle yourself on the sun-faded bricks and open your lunch on your lap. Students go by, some of them in a hurry, some of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. It’s nice to people watch; sometimes it makes you feel less alone. You take a bite out of your peanut butter sandwich and let your eyes slip closed. The wind ruffles your sweater and brings a smile to your face as it kisses your skin. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a scene of two basketball players seeing who can burp the loudest. 

With a sigh you take another bite of your sandwich. Is there anyone at this school that will just get you?

As the thought crosses your mind, you feel a heavy weight plop down next to you on the wall. You turn your head and see the cutest guy you’ve seen yet in Hawkins. His curly hair is frizzy, but in the most endearing of ways. The brown of his eyes perfectly matches the atmosphere of autumn around you. But it’s his smile that has your heart racing. It’s big, bright, and most important of all, it’s genuine. 

“Ah, I can spy a fellow Hawkins outcast when I see one.”

Warmth burns your cheeks simply by making eye contact and having this man speak to you. The air around you might be getting cooler, but your body is heating up. It makes sense; he’s really cute. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”

“New kid?” He leans back and narrows his eyes slightly, as if he’s appraising you, but in a joking manner.

“As I’ll probably be referred to until I graduate, yes,” you admit with a breathy chuckle. He laughs in return, and it sounds like music, the melody of it being swept away by the breeze. 

“I was known as the ‘freak’ to most people. You’d think ‘Eddie’ was merely a suggestion of what to call me, not my actual goddamn name,” he says with an overdramatic shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really bother me after a while.”

“I wish I didn’t let things get to me as much as they do,” you admit. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe because this is the first person in Hawkins that seems to be interested in what you have to say. Eddie smiles and shakes his head, eyes turning down to gaze at his lap. 

“The assholes aren’t worth it.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand in the air, multiple chunky rings glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “But trust me, you find the right friends, and everything will be smooth sailing. They’ll have your back, and you’ll have theirs—none of the other shit matters.”

“You’re pretty wise, Eddie.”

“Don’t know if I’ve ever been called that before,” he tells you through a guffaw of laughter. 

“Well, it’s fitting,” you say. 

“Eddie the Wise,” he tries out the name, but wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah, doesn’t work.”

“I like your pick necklace,” you say, just trying to keep talking and have Eddie here for as long as you can. 

“Huh?” He looks down at it. “Oh, thanks. You like music? Good music, I should say. Because I’ve got the all-time best band right here.”

Eddie shrugs off his denim vest layered over a leather jacket, your eyes trailing every movement his body makes. Bare, pale arms come into view once he’s finally rid himself of the article of clothing. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the dark ink that contrasts against his alabaster skin. A small colony of bats taking flight. 

“Ta-da,” Eddie says, presenting his Metallica t-shirt to you and bringing you back to reality.

“Not bad, not bad,” you acquiesce, once you’ve refocused.

Eddie just grins and puts his layers of clothing back on. 

A couple of cheerleaders walk by and look you up and down, trying to be as obvious as possible about it. Because they know it will get even more under your skin, they lower their heads and start whispering together.

Eddie gives them a saccharine smile and flips them off as they go by. It makes you giggle, and it brings you satisfaction that those girls didn’t rob you of your happy afternoon. 

“Take it from me,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re gonna be just fine here in Hawkins. This school is a shit show, but it has its bright spots. Friends mostly. Clubs—you should look into those for sure. Some teachers aren’t half bad either. Take Mr. H. He’s a bit of a smartass, but he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, I have him for physics and he’s great.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth quirk up in a smirk and he pushes himself off the wall.

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you—and seriously, I really wish I could—I’m not even supposed to be here right now.”

“Oh, you don’t have this lunch period?” you ask.

“Nah,” Eddie says as he slides his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m supposed to be somewhere, doing something, I don’t know.” Eddie’s lackadaisical nature makes you giggle. “But I saw a pretty girl sitting here all by herself and I took a detour.”

His words make you feel flushed and flustered, unable to come up with anything to say in response. Eddie goes to walk away but turns back and gives you a smile; almost as bright as the very first one he gave you. 

“Everything’s gonna be alright. This is your year. I can feel it.” He offers you a quick wink then he’s on his way.

The bell rings, breaking you out of your daze watching Eddie walk away. You hasten to clean up from your lunch so you can make it on time to your French class on the other side of campus. 

When you’ve got everything situated and ready to get to class, you look around but there’s no sign of Eddie. No curly hair, no dark delicious eyes, nothing. 

In class, it’s a fight not to tap your pencil against your desk incessantly. You’re itching to ask someone, anyone, if they know Eddie and where you can find him. At this moment more than ever you wish you’d made better friends here already. 

Screw it, you think as the bell rings to signal the end of the class. I’ve got to ask about him. 

“Mrs. Daaé?” 

Your petite French teacher gives you a kind smile. “Yes, dear?” 

“Do you know a student named Eddie?” You feel so stupid asking this; asking a teacher if she knows anything about the cute boy who came and talked to you.

Mrs. Daaé thinks for a moment, her long mauve fingernails tapping against the top of her desk.

“I don’t believe I do,” she says with a sympathetic smile. When you’re the new kid you get used to people giving you that look very quickly. 

“That’s okay,” you say, eager to be out of there. “Thank you anyway.”

It’s the same answer from everyone you talk to. The few friends you’ve made, people who sit near you in class, even your teachers. No one seems to know who this guy is or have any idea what you’re talking about. 

By the time you get to your last class of the day, you’re half convinced that you’re crazy. Gone mad, absolutely bonkers. 

Physics isn’t your favorite class, but it does have your favorite teacher, so that’s something. 

You pay enough attention to get by, but your mind constantly wanders back to the only person to make you feel welcome in this town. 

The sound of your name jars you out of your thoughts. You look up and realize the last students from your class are walking out the door. Now that you think about it, you did hear the final bell ring, it just didn’t register. 

“Sorry,” you say, but you’re not sure who to. Your teacher who snapped you out of your daze? The students you’ve been bombarding with questions today?  

Maybe you should ask this teacher. It’s the last one of the day, you might as well. But you also don’t want to look like an idiot again. 

“Something I can help you with?” The soft voice and kind smile shake you out of your thoughts. You’re the only student left in the room.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” you repeat the apology. As you step out the door, you change your mind, remembering Eddie referenced “Mr. H.” Taking a deep breath, you turn around and walk back into the classroom. “A-Actually… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I talked with this guy today, outside while I was eating my lunch. He was really nice—nicer than any of the other kids have been since I came here, honestly. But when I’ve asked around about him, no one knows who he is. He seemed to know you, though.”

Your teacher’s eyebrows furrow together, and he sits down in his chair behind the desk. “What’s his name?”

“Eddie.”

He shakes his head as he thinks. “I don’t know if we even have an Eddie in this school. We’ve got Ed Sweeney, the football coach. But I doubt it was him.”

“No,” you say with a disappointed, but not surprised, sigh. It’s the same answer you’ve been getting all day. “This was definitely a student. Curly hair down to his shoulders. Big, infectious smile, a dark red pick on a chain around his neck…”

Your teacher’s eyes widen exponentially, and you must give him an odd look without realizing it because he quickly composes himself and clears his throat. 

“Did he, um, have any tattoos?” the teacher asks. 

“Yeah!” You get excited, this being the first real hint of someone knowing what you’re talking about. “He had a bunch of bats—”

“On his right forearm?”

“Yes! That’s him!”

Your teacher slumps back in his seat and rubs his hand over his eyebrows.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath. You’re surprised to hear that kind of talk from a teacher; you’re not even sure if you were meant to hear it or not. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask timidly.

A grin from ear to ear looks back up at you and your teacher leans forward on his desk, resting on his elbows. 

“You talked to him today?”

“Yes. I don’t understand, what’s–”

Before you can finish your question, he’s shuffling in his pocket and pulling out his phone. Frantically, he starts to look for something on it, obviously searching for something he deems as important as his fingers tap against the screen. Evidently, he finds what he’s looking for because his search comes to an end, and he takes a deep breath. The phone clacks down gently onto the wood of the desk and he slides it in your direction.

“Was this him?”

You take a few steps closer to the desk and peer down at the screen. Looking back at you is Eddie, tongue sticking out and hand held up in devil’s horns, standing beside your teacher–only much, much younger.

“W-What is this?”

“Is this him?” His voice is firm, but not aggressive.

“Yes, but I’m confused.” If you thought your brain was already jumbled up from no one knowing who you were talking about today, now it feels like it was put in a blender and puréed. 

“This is unbelievable,” your teacher mumbles, a smile starting to appear on his face once again. “Still taking care of lost sheep, huh?” The question is obviously not directed at you.

Confusion is starting to turn to irritation, and it isn’t like your favorite teacher to not answer your questions. He’s always willing to explain things as many times as needed in class.

“Mr. Henderson, what’s going on?”

The initial response is a chuckle and shake of his head, clearly amused by something.

“Eddie Munson. He, uh, used to go here.”

“Did he graduate?” You try to hide the pang of disappointment in your voice that he isn’t a fellow student anymore. 

The smile on Mr. Henderson’s face turns melancholic.

“Yeah. Yeah, he graduated.” Your teacher is clearly lost in a memory, and you can’t tell by his expression if it’s a happy one or a sad one. 

Now you can’t help but feel a little petty and whiney about the one person who seemed to understand you not being around. In spite of yourself, you frown and cross your arms over your chest.

“Why was he here?” you can’t help but ask, poking the bruise.

Mr. Henderson seems stumped by this question at first. He thinks for a silent moment, then his eyes spark as if something just came to him.

“Probably here to give me a message.” He doesn’t elaborate on that before looking back up at you. “Eddie doesn’t…live around here anymore. He was probably just passing through.”

“Somehow he could tell I was the new kid,” you say with a slightly embarrassed shrug—as if being the new kid is something people can smell on you.

“Yeah, Eddie always had a knack for finding new kids. Even kids who’ve been here for years but didn’t have many friends.”

“He definitely came to the right person then,” you admit sadly. In front of anyone else you would feel stupid speaking these thoughts out loud, but Mr. Henderson has seemed like a safe place ever since you arrived at Hawkins High. 

The man tilts his head and gives you a look of understanding—but not sympathy, like everyone else.

“Making friends can be hard. I was lucky I had friends coming into this school with me. Even so, I’m glad that Ed—uh, this upperclassman took me under his wing. Made a world of difference. Joined a club and made tons of new friends.”

The words spark a memory from your earlier conversation.

“Eddie mentioned that, actually. That I should join a club or something.”

Mr. Henderson chuckles softly to himself and mumbles of course he did under his breath. You’re not sure what’s so funny but it seems impolite to ask.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he says. He stands up from his chair and narrows his eyes. “I think I have a pretty good recommendation, too. Tell me, do you know anything about Dungeons and Dragons?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐌𝐞 🔞

You thought you knew he only wanted sex. He thought you knew he wanted love. Who's gonna break first- and who's gonna pick up the pieces?

Tags/Warnings: PWP, messy sex oop, emotions, hurt & Comfort, major angst, minor manhandling, multiple rounds mentioned

Length: 2.3k words

A/N: someone send help I can't write smut no more I'm sorry

━━━━━━━━━━.~°💔°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

In the beginning, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Really- it wasn't.

Jungkook and you had been nothing but friends, casual ones that would mostly text and sometimes meet up for the odd takeout and drink at either his place or yours. And then, one day, it really kind of just.. happened.

For you, it was clear that he didn't mean it in a sense of 'hey, I love you' because he litereally told you so straight up the next morning. He'd stood up, got dressed, thanked you for letting him stay over, and made sure to tell you that this wasn't him confessing to you in a fuckboy'ish way or anything. That he was totally 'cool' with just staying friends and nothing more.

You had laughed it off. Had said almost nothing. You just took the hit silently, and let him walk out of your apartment, only to have him return a week later.

And the same happened again. You ate, drank, and end up having sex- and while this time it had been on the couch instead of your bed, it still turned out the same the next morning. He'd leave, thank you for staying over, only to text you a few days later if you wanted to hang out at his place.

And there too, he'd end up with his dick inside you. His bed had been comfortable, even if he lacked pillows for some odd reason. It was still nice. And this time, something was different.

This time, it was you who thanked him for letting you stay over, before you'd left.

The same game, simply with reversed players. Nothing new- it just looked like it. And now, after a year of playing this, you're yet again entangled with him in his bed, though he actually owns a few pillows now after noticing your complaints about his lack of them. You slept in the same bed after all, whenever you'd stay over- and while he hoped you'd at some point at least try to cuddle up to him, use him as a pillow, you hadn't. You'd rather accepted the sore neck you'd get the next morning, instead of showing him any kind of domestic affection outside of sex.

And he's not sure how long he can take it.

There's only so much he can do. So much he can offer. So much he can sacrifice for you.

He's unable to keep his hands to himself, uses them to push your wrists into the mattress below instead as he clenches his jaw, grits his teeth under the pressure of his own muscles aching already. He doesn't know how far he needs to go, how hard he needs to fuck your brains out so you understand that it's him who's making your mind spin. Him who wants to offer you so much more than just his dick down your throat or shoved inside your cunt. He could give you so much more than just purple marks on your skin, could give you a lot more lasting things than just a fleeting bruise.

You just won't let him.

And its agonizing.

He doesn't know what to do at this point to show you what he wants, because your eyes are always closed, no matter what. If not physically, then mentally- you don't ever look at him, never see him, all while he can't look away, has to watch every breath of yours. He knows he's not a perfect guy. He's got his flaws, a lot of them, but that can't be the reason you just won't love him.

Because in your touch, in your kisses, in the way you cling to him, he can feel it. It's not just lust and desire that's making you feel like this, he knows that. He just knows- but you act like there's nothing.

You pretend nothing is going on, you just keep your hands over your eyes and never spot the way he kneels in front of your feet, offering his heart clawed straight out of his chest. As if what you do is nothing but a stale job to get done, something not worth much more effort than necessary. A normal 9 to 5 that pays the bills.

And if that's what this is, he wants to be fired.

Because he surely isn't able to quit on his own.

But that's the thing- every time you give him the chance to leave, he just can't let it happen. And neither do you stay away from him for long either. If he doesn't reply to a message you send him for more than a day or two, you'll call him, worried tone in your voice while asking if he's alright. And it hurts, because he feeds off of those moments every single time like a drug addict, wants and needs your attention and has started to ignore you just to get that reaction in return. He knows it's cruel, that at this point you're more than toxic towards one another, but he needs you.

And it's clear that you need him too- you just refuse to admit that.

"Jungkook-" You gasp out when he pushes himself in deep, arms growing tired from the by now third round of lovemaking he's tied you up in. But he can't stop- he doesn't want to. The moment he's done with you, the moment he lets go, you'll leave.

And tonight, he can't handle that. Tonight is his breaking point.

"Jungkook I can't-" You start, but he instead leans back on his heels, pulls your legs over his thighs, before he pushes his length that had slipped out back in, hips lifting before he gathers the last ounces of strength once more. A hand on your cunt spreads the mess he'd made with you around, thumb pressing and circling over your red and swollen bundle of nerves, pushing you towards one last peak with him.

He knows it's ending. He can feel his muscles burn.

So he uses your limp and pleasure-paralyzed body to his advantage, as he moves his hands to pull your back towards him instead, having you sit on him instead, his arms around you, your face in his neck. He hisses a little at the feeling of your hand tugging his hair, the other scratching his back for just a second, as you spasm once more, core clenching around his by now painfully sensitive cock.

His last orgasm is empty, he's got nothing left to give-

and he notices the way you both shiver, just not from the cold.

And if this is the last time, he wants to be stupid- he wants to be selfish, and he wants to at least pretend for a moment while you're still out of it that he's got you. That you want him even if you're not just fucking.

His lips kiss the salty skin of the crook of your neck, up to right underneath your ear, as he leaves his head there, breathes in your scent. His arms hold you close, length softening inside you, cum and arousal leaking and causing a weird slippery sensation on the skin of his thighs. And then, you try to move. "Don't-" He mumbles, voice hoarse. "..not yet."

You're quiet, feeling a bit panicked. You need him to let go of you, right now. Because the way his hot breath fans over your skin, the feeling of his arms hot around you, the sensation of his body so close is making you delirious. It's causing your fucked up brain to come up with dangerously domestic scenes of a post-sex shower with him, where you both fail to stand up for long enough to get yourselves clean, so you have to rather take a bath and laugh about the trembling of your muscles as you somewhat clumsily make yourselves at home in the warm soapy water. It creates a dream where you sleep next to him tonight, only dressed in barely any clothes so you can feel as close as you can throughout the night, his heavy body clinging to yours at some point, raspy voice greeting you with a good morning the next time you both wake up. It paints a picture of breakfast together, of a playful argument with him about the muscle ache you both have from the excessive amount of lovemaking you both just did.

But it's not lovemaking. You two simply fuck- you don't make love.

"Jungkook, I'm all gross-" You whine, trying to push him, when you suddenly feel it as he holds you even tighter, face resting on your shoulder. He's shaking, but not from the exhaustion of his muscles.

He's crying, quietly, trying hard not to have you notice.

It confuses you. You're not sure what to do, so for now, you just lean into him, rest your own head on his shoulder, and interlace your hands behind his back as you relax. "Don't do that.." He suddenly says, shaking his head and leaning away from you. No you're definitely confused. "I can't.."

"Jungkook what's wrong?" You ask, as he takes in a deep breath to calm himself, hands wiping his face almost aggressively. "What's going on?"

"You should go shower now." He mumbles, not looking at you as he cringes a little when he finally slips out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed, before his hands rub his arms, muscles probably aching already. "Do you need me to drive you home?" He wonders, and you just sit on the bed, watching him.

It's silent, for a good while, until he finally turns a little to look at you.

And you've never really seen anything that physically hurts you so much as his face in this moment, heart dropping down towards hell, ice cold shock running up your spine at the pure exhaustion on his face. But it's not physical exhaustion you see. No- whatever it is, it's something else.

"Jungkook.. talk to me-" You try, but he scoffs, shakes his head.

"I don't want to." He denies, getting up to walk into the bathroom, where he turns on the lights and starts the shower. You feel oddly small in his apartment, weirdly out of place as you look around, surroundings unfamiliar now that you actually look at them. Have you ever really looked at his apartment? Or just the ceiling at max?

Then again, why would you? Jeon Jungkook doesn't do relationships, and you know this because he told you. Numerous times. So why is he so distressed today?

When he walks back out, you quietly wobble into the bathroom yourself, get clean and get out once more to see him already changing the sheets, angrily throwing the soiled one's to the floor. It's clear that something's off this time, and you're at fault- but you're not sure what you've done.

So you just sit down on the floor with crossed legs, butt cold on the ground since you're only wearing panties and a shirt of his you found.

"There's sweatpants in the hamper. They're clean." He mumbles, not sparing you a glance. "You can wear those. I'll drive you home in a second-"

"I don't wanna go home." You say, making his movements stutter.

"What?" He turns towards you, eyes all puffy from his earlier emotional break.

"I don't wanna go home." You repeat. "Not until you tell me what's wrong." You say, and he shakes his head, pulling the bedsheet over the mattress, groaning angrily when it slips up on another corner, undoing most of his work. You, instead, laugh a little, getting up slowly to walk over and help him.

He sighs.

"Why do you want to stay?" He asks, and you look at him as he braces his hands on the mattress, not looking up at you.

"Why do you never want me to stay?" You ask instead, and his brows furrow in confusion, as he finally looks up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks, genuinely confused. "You're the one that always leaves the moment I'm done with you." He accuses, and you stare at him almost offended.

"Excuse me?" You scoff. "Who leaves me while I am asleep after almost breaking my bed twice now?" You argue.

"You didn't invite me to stay, like, ever!" He barks back, now standing to full height again, staring at you.

"Well boohoo, didn't know the prince himself needed a formal invitation to stay in my bed after I sucked his dick!" You huff, crossing your arms.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He asks, and you open your mouth, offended.

"No, what the fuck is your problem?!" You respond back, before both of your faces relax visibly.

"I always wanted to stay. I just didn't know if you wanted me to." He says awkwardly, and you sigh, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt you're wearing.

"And I wanted you to stay, but I.. you said you don't do relationships and all that, so I didn't want to seem clingy." You mumble. "I rather, you know.."

"...took what you offered and never asked for more.." He continues.

"..so I would at least not lose you." You finish, and you both stare at each other for a good moment-

before you both break out in tearful laughter, falling into bed together-

for the first time, actually holding each other throughout the night, and many more to come.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°💔°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

[aurossaga]

To hold your hands

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff!

Word count: ~1k

Warnings: Alcohol mention

Summary:  His fingers twitch only for a quick moment, which would likely not have been very noticeable had you not been so familiar with the way Venti plays. Still, you notice.

As you finish brushing the dirt off your foraged mushrooms and carrots, your eyes drift over to your companion, sitting on a tree stump in the forest clearing. The sunlight catches his relaxed features perfectly as he carefully examines the string of his bow, making sure it wasn’t getting too loose. You pack up your bag, get up from the forest floor and make your way back over to him. He gives you a quick glance, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile at the sight of you without him really thinking too hard about it.

“Done already?” Venti asks, getting up from his spot as well. The bow in his hands dissipates as he stores it away. It still puzzles you how vision holders can do that…

“Yep. I just have to wash all these when we get home.” You gesture to your bag, as you show him today’s findings. “Not many people come all the way out here. It didn’t take long to fill my bag.”

Venti laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder as he follows you back toward the path leading back to the city.

“Well, lucky us! Between everything we’ve gathered and the fine wines I brought along, I dare claim tonight’s dinner will be absolutely delectable!”

You nod absentmindedly, thinking of how to best prepare the vegetables once you get home. The soft crunch of your shoes on the gravelly path forms a sort of rhythm that you try to keep up as you walk, the chattering of birds and rustle of leaves becoming a nice backdrop as you listen to Venti going on about all sorts of things, occasionally offering your input. Before long, the two of you have made it back to your home.

While you prepare the ingredients for cooking, Venti sits in the living room, playing a few calming melodies on his lyre. As he plucks away at the strings, forming the most beautiful of tunes, you can’t help but listen, nearly losing all focus on your current task as you momentarily lose yourself in his enchanting compositions. The seamless flow of notes stalls for naught but a quick second, before picking up right where it left off. As you continue cutting up the ingredients and adding them to the pan, you wonder what could have caused him to stutter like that… Venti practically never hesitates when playing the lyre, even when he’s just practicing. Suddenly, you hear a quiet groan from the other room, as the music once again stalls for a moment. You add a splash of wine to the pan before reducing the heat and placing a lid on top, allowing it to simmer for a while as you step out of the kitchen.

When you enter the living room and find the source of the inconsistent song, you decide to observe him for a moment before interjecting. His brows are tightly knit together as if in deep concentration as he’s practically bent over the lyre in his hands, meticulously strumming out an old melody. His fingers twitch only for a quick moment, which would likely not have been very noticeable had you not been so familiar with the way Venti plays. Still, you notice. And it seems he is agonizing over it as well. He lets out an irritated sigh as he places the lyre down in defeat for now. Only then does he seem to notice you leaning against the doorframe, observing him.

“Oh, sorry. Were you listening? I can keep playing for you if you wish.” Venti reaches over towards the lyre again. His smile holds a grain of hesitation, one that you have gotten really good at noticing over the years. You often have to pry information like this out of him, things he neglected or ignored for himself. Without replying, you just walk over to him, and sit down next to him on the sofa. His somewhat confused expression quickly turns to a downcast one as you gently take his hands into your own.

“Ah…”

He sighs quietly. You study his expression. His deep blue and green eyes are avoiding your own gaze, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to come up with anything else to say. He knows he can't hide anything from you.

“Venti… you’ve been practicing an awful lot lately.” You softly tilt his chin up to make him look at you, as you offer him a calming smile. With your free hand, you gently rub calming circles into the palm of his hand.

“I… Yeah, maybe. Hehe…” Venti’s sheepish smile and nervous giggle makes you want to laugh a bit as well. He’s normally rather hard to read for most people, so he doesn’t really know how to handle how effortlessly you see through his facade. He doesn’t really notice how much he lets his guard down when you two are alone together either.

“Here, let me help.”

You grab onto his dominant hand with both of yours, gently applying pressure to the base of his fingers. You delicately rub his joints in circular motions, before continuing the gesture toward the palm of his hand. You remember to make sure to give the same attention to  both sides as you go. Venti is uncharacteristically quiet as you work, his eyes fixating on your delicate expression.

He is often told he can be a bit more trouble than most people are willing to put up with, but somehow, he never feels that way around you. You’ve always taken time out of your day to talk to him, inviting him along to menial tasks, listening to his ramblings, his poems, his songs…

And right now, as you so tenderly massage his aching muscles that he strained trying to write you a song as a thank you gift, he can no longer excuse the way heat rises to his cheeks or the way his heart beats ever so slightly faster around you. 

Right now, sitting opposite of you as your gentle hands massage his own, he realizes he’s fallen for you.

[jowrites]

Die for You - Jake Sim & Lee Heeseung Part 1

***Arranged marriage AU x Husband Jake! x Reader, friend Heeseung! x Reader***

TW: cursing, Jake is mean, sexual themes, suggestive themes, SMUT, aggressive sex, toxic Jake, unprotected sex, pregnancy, mental health mentions: depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional cheating(sorta)

Had to break it into two parts because it got long...

WC: 5,180

Jo's Full Masterlist Here Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Part 2 Here

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Jake has always been a very reasonable man, always doing his duty as heir of his father’s company. When things weren’t going so well with the business, he knew what was going to come of things and where his life was heading. Into a pit of misery for the rest of his life. 

Where he finds himself now saying his “I do’s” to none other the ‘savior’ of his business and to the family he is going to have to kiss ass for the rest of his life. Well, he refuses to be a puppet and even though he’s losing his freedom, he’ll make sure he comes out on top to save his dignity. Or what was left.

Park YN was a very respected girl in the world they lived in. He was now marrying into the richest family who saved his family's business. If his father just did things better then he wouldn’t even have to be in this mess. And why did they agree to let him marry their precious daughter? That, he doesn’t know, but rumor has it she’s always had a crush on him and he made sure to use that to his advantage to secure the deal-and funds- so his family can continue living in their paradise. They owe him now.

Just because he’s now in this arranged marriage, this business deal, doesn’t mean they can control his every being. He will work hard to get his freedom back, to where he can decide for himself again.

*******************

There was no denying things were tense the moment they walked through the door of their newlywed home. YN knew Jake wasn’t happy and she wasn’t forcing this on him, he came to her and somehow convinced her father of this. 

This wasn’t what she wanted.

Jake began to walk away down to the bedroom, him beginning to undo his tie and him stumbling a bit from the alcohol he consumed at the wedding. He turned and looked at her and motioned for her to follow, a frown going on her face.

“Are you coming or not?” he asked.

“W-we have separate rooms, uhm get some rest,” she said and he chuckled, scoffing to himself.

“Let’s get this over with while I’m being nice,” he said and she gasped.

“Are you serious? You want to have sex now ‘while you’re being nice’? So what does that mean exactly?” she asked, anger in her voice.

He rolled his eyes and groaned.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant let’s just do this and get it over with, they’re expecting you to have a baby, no?” he asked, his eyebrow raising.

“We can talk later when you’re more sober, I’m tired. Goodnight,” she said, walking to the otherside of the hallway into a room and closing the door.

What a brat, he thought. He didn’t realize how tired he actually was as well, but the moment he stumbled to the bed and fell on it, everything went black.

When Jake woke up the next day, he had a blazing headache. He groaned to himself as he noticed the light outside and forced himself to sit up in bed. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself from this hell only to remember it wasn’t a nightmare but his reality. His reality. He turned and saw a cup of water and some aspirin on the bedside table, quickly reaching for it and taking some to ease the pounding in his head. He was still in his wedding attire and quickly scurried to the bathroom for a shower. This was going to be a long, agonizing year. 

When he walked out of his room and into the kitchen, he saw YN sitting at the island reading something on her tablet. She was eating a bagel and looked up and smiled at him.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, going to the fridge and searching for whatever he can find. “About last night, sorry…I didn’t mean to come off as such a dick, I was just tired.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I get it…and I know what you mean…my mom’s been keeping track of my ovulation cycles,” she said.

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Well, we better get to it then and give them what they want.”

“Jake, you really don’t-” She began but he held his hand up.

“No, it’s my duty as your husband now. And don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about me and any of ‘my hoes’...I took an oath and I plan to keep it,” Jake said. 

“That’s not what I meant but…okay,” YN said. 

“So, should we get started on that picture-perfect family?” Jake turned to her, raising an eyebrow and motioning towards the room.

She bit her lip out of nerves. As much as she understood him, this isn’t what she wanted. But she had a duty now as well, and as much as she hated it she knew better than to go against her parents. She sighed and took his hand and let him lead her to his room. She was trying not to show her true feelings, her sadness and tears. She put on her bravest face and tried to be happy. But deep down, she hated this. She hated a family not based on love.

***********************************

6 Months later

“So how’s the wife doing?” Jay asked, smirking over at his friend.

Jake took a sip of his whiskey, looking at the glass and sighing.

“That bad?” Jay frowned. “You have the most desired woman tied to you now, is it really that bad?”

“It’s fucking weird, Jay, and she’s so nice and it’s so fucking annoying,” Jake said.

“You’re mad because she isn’t a bitch?” Jay raised a brow.

“No, that’s not it but everything just pisses me off. This whole situation, it’s so fucked up,” Jake groaned. 

“Yeah, well it’s the world we live in,” Jay said, taking a sip of his drink. “And didn't you ask her to marry you?”

“Yes, but for my family, it’s business. It’s not like a fucking love her,” Jake said.

“Who don’t you love?” Heeseung came up from behind Jake, patting him on the shoulder, making Jake jump in fright.

“Oh Jesus!” Jake said, clutching his chest. “Dude, a little warning next time.”

“Sorry,” Heeseung smirked as he took a seat between his friends.

“Just Jake complaining about his oh-so perfect wife,” Jay teased.

“How is she?” Heeseung asked, turning his attention towards Jake. 

Jake waved his hand in dismissal, chugging the rest of his whiskey and pouring himself another glass.

“Slow down, that’s your 4th one,” Jay said.

“Whatever, don’t tell me what to do,” Jake said.

Jay and Heeseung gave a look at each other and sighed.

“Is it that bad?” Heeseung asked.

“She’s too nice,” Jay said.

“Yeah, YN is really kind. I thought they’d be getting to know each other better by now and he’d like her by now,” Heeseung said.

“Wait, you know her?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, our families are good partners. Our dads golf together,” Heeseung said.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t we know about this?” Jay asked.

“You never asked,” Heeseung shrugged, taking Jay’s drink and drinking from it.

“Hey, get your own!” Jay said, grabbing the drink back.

“Yours is better,” Heeseung said. “Mmm, delicious!”

“Whatever, she’s a weirdo,” Jake said, drinking more.

It was 3 am when YN woke up from her sleep. She quickly put on a robe and went out to check who was at the door. What greeted her at the door was Heeseung holding up Jake who looked to be in and out of consciousness. 

“YN? Are you awake? We have your husband,” Heeseung said to the camera. 

“Hi, YN, I’m Jay, we met at the wedding,” Jay came into frame, his forehead covering the full camera.

“Dude, shh, you’re so loud!” Heeseung pulled Jay back.

YN opened the door, her eyes wide and a frown on her face.

“What the hell?” she asked.

“Hi,” Heeseung smiled, a blush on his face.

“Oh, look! It’s my wife,” Jake said, slurring his words.

Heeseung and Jay helped carry Jake inside as he stumbled over himself. YN sighed to herself, shaking her head. They carried him through the house to the living room and placed him on the couch. 

“Did you want us to take him to the bedroom?” Heeseung asked, looking at YN.

“No, he can stay there for the night,” YN said, shrugging. 

“Oh, yikes,” Jay said. “But I get it.”

YN glared at Jake as he groaned. 

“Why are you guys so loud?” He slurred. “Oh, YN…good. Here, be a dear hang up my coat.”

Jake began to remove his coat, the boys looking at him appalled.

“Excuse me?” YN asked. 

“That’s not how you speak to your wife,” Jay said, pulling Jake back.

“Shut up, I’ll speak to her how I want,” Jake shoved Jay back and threw his coat at her. 

“Dude,” Heeseung said as he tried to shield the girl from the swing of the coat.

“I’m not your maid, Jake,” YN sighed. “Goodnight, guys. Thanks for bringing him home…”

She smiled at the boys and waved, starting to walk to the kitchen. Heeseung glared at Jake before following YN down to the kitchen.

“Does he always speak to you like that?” Heeseung asked.

“Not always, most times he doesn’t even speak to me at all…unless he wants to get his dick wet,” she chuckled, her fists clenching.

“YN, he doesn’t…” Heeseung asked in a whisper.

“No, not like that. It’s consensual…he’s just not nice about it…” she said, looking down. 

“Are you happy?” He asked, trying to get a look at her face.

“What do you think? I was forced to marry a man who I barely know and doesn’t even like me,” YN looked up at Heeseung. “It’s whatever, this is what people like us do.”

“YN, you didn’t have to do this,” Heeseung said, looking down at her softly.

“It was either Jake or that Yoo kid,” YN said.

“Your father was going to marry you off to Yoo Taeil?” Heeseung gasped and YN nodded.

Yoo Taeil, known for his notorious abuse against women. Everyone knows he’s a psychopath and has probably killed someone before. Not confirmed, but many suspect it and hear it through the rumors. His family has power, and he’s seen as a saint in the public.

“I’m sorry about this, YN…I know it never was what you wanted,” Heeseung said, reaching out for her hand which she pulled away.

“It’s late, you guys should go,” YN said, smiling up at Heeseung. “Thank you, and it was good to see you, Heeseung. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll come around more often for sure…make sure Jake isn’t being a dick,” Heeseung winked, causing her to giggle. 

She nodded and together the two walked out as Jay was looking around.

“You ready?” Heeseung asked and Jay nodded.

“I’ll see you around, Mrs. Sim,” Jay smiled, waving.

“Bye guys, thanks again!” YN said, walking them out.

When Heeseung and Jay got to the car, Heeseung let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His eyes closed as he exhaled slowly.

“You and YN don’t just ‘know each other’, don’t you?” Jay asked his friend.

“Yeah…it’s complicated,” Heeseung said.

“Fuck man!” Jay said, shaking his head.

Heeseung stared out the window, lost in thought the driver drove the two through the city back to their apartments.

It's been 3 days since that night. Jake still ignores YN as if she isn't an existing part of his world. He doesn't even realize it most of the time, but he's getting more distant and distant. YN has found she doesn't think she can stand him as even a friend with the way he has talked to her, dismissive and rude. She wasn't someone who let others walk all over her, but she too didn't like to invite the company of an entitled chaebol. Jake acted like most of them-rude, spoiled, and entitled. She wasn't raised to be that way and so she never took part in many things or had many friends. When she sits and thinks about Jake and his friends, they all seemed nice and she didn't understand why they were friends with Jake. Especially Heeseung. 

Her relationship with Heeseung is positive. Most times in the past, she was able to enjoy his company and share things on her mind and he never judged her. He was a great friend who listened to her and even when she told him she was getting married she had no idea Jake was one of his friends. His best friend to be exact. Heeseung never mentioned Jake and she's now starting to see why. She still feels like she barely knows him, but she has enough experience with him now to have an opinion. She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

“I don't think I like him,” YN said, her eyes fixed on the glass in front of her.

“Who?” her brother, Sunghoon, asked as he placed his fork down.

“My husband,” she said.

“Does he hurt you? Is he cheating already?” Sunghoon asked, his tone serious.

“I honestly don't even know, he said he's not one to cheat and I don't have to worry about that,” she said, sighing. “But I don't even talk to him.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“He doesn't talk to me…barely looks at me, only if he needs something,” she clarified. “And he's a dick about it.”

“Shit,” Sunghoon sighed, rubbing his face. “I'll tell dad, we can finalize the divorce as soon as possible.”

“No! Sunghoon, don't!” YN said, pleading, reaching out and stopping her brother who picked up his phone.

“YN, I will not have my baby sister be treated like this, not by a friend, family, and especially not by her husband who we let into this family for the mere deal of saving his family's image,” Sunghoon said with venom in his voice.

“I'll handle it, just give me more time…please, I-I need to think,” YN said.

“Think about what? If you're unhappy just say so,” Sunghoon said.

“I'm not. It's just…things are weird and I'm still planning to try…for mom and dad's sake…my sake…I don't want to be that chaebol who gets divorced 6 months into her marriage…” YN said.

Sunghoon sighed. He understands all too well the image this will bring. Not only the public image, but the business can have issues. His father took in a loss at the expense of his daughter. He would hate to be the bad guy here.

“I'm going to make this work, just trust me,” she said, squeezing her brother's hand and smiling at him. 

When YN got home, she was greeted by none other than an empty apartment.  She sighed and set her bags down in the kitchen, removing the items she brought home from their bags and getting to work. She was determined to start over and try to get to know him. Even if he had no interest, maybe she just needed to try. Maybe her absence and uninterest in his world is also a reason why he stays away. Maybe he feels like he's respecting her boundaries. She will just have to try. 

By the time she finished setting the table, she looked at the clock and saw Jake should be arriving soon. One thing she noticed, if he wasn't with Heeseung or Jay, he always came home at 7. Always on time. The dinner she cooked was done, filling their home with the aromas making anyone's stomach excited at the scent. She looked at her table, the food looked delicious and everything looked pretty. She was excited now like a girl on her first date. She made sure she looked extra nice, putting on a little more makeup than usual and a nice dress she just got. She put in effort and hopes Jake could appreciate it and see it so maybe he'd try as well now. That was what she hoped.

By the time she checked her phone, it was past 8. Jake wasn't home yet and she sat at the table waiting. She texted Heeseung and asked if they were together and he said Jake wasn't with him and when she texted Jake he didn't even bother looking at her messages, leaving her unread. Her calls went to voicemail and he just had no clue where he was. She was getting impatient and a part of her felt disappointed at the same time. She was struggling with this and a part of her was hurt. She didn't realize it until this moment, but she was lonely.

She picked up her phone and called the person who she always went to in these types of situations. Someone who always listened to her and brought her joy. Heeseung.

“YN? Are you okay?” He asked through the phone.

“Uhm, yeah, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner. We can catch up like old times since it's been a while,” she asked. “I made dinner.”

“Oh, sure. I'd love to. Jake didn't mention anything about dinner,” he said.

“Yeah, Jake isn't even here,” she chuckled.

“Oh…did you fight?” he asked. 

“No, we didn't…he isn't home yet,” YN said.

The line was silent for a while and YN could hear Heeseung sigh. 

“I'll be right over, okay? I'll bring dessert,” he said and she smiled.

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

Heeseung arrived 15 minutes later. She was now in casual clothes, a nice cardigan and some sweatpants as she opened the door. She still managed to take his breath away, a smile coming to his lips. She gave him a full tour of the place, including Jake's room which she quickly let him know he could take anything he wanted. Heeseung chuckled thinking he just might take Jake's stuff and see if he notices. His friend deserves a bit of some punishment if this is how he's been treating his wife. Heeseung didn't get it.

“I just don't understand him, and don't get me wrong, I can read Jake like an open book but this…this is so not like him,” Heeseung exclaimed. 

The two of them sat at the coffee table enjoying some wine and the macaroons Heeseung brought. It was almost 11 now and after a delicious meal they were chatting away on the floor embraced in everything and all that's been going on.

“Yeah well, that's how it's been. And I was going to try tonight but he didn't give me the opportunity to, I guess,” YN said, shrugging. 

“YN, you don't deserve this type of treatment,” Heeseung said. 

“I guess I'm just going to have to keep trying, who knows maybe he's just thinking of my boundaries or something,” she said.

Heeseung knew that was bullshit. Everything Jake has said about this situation and about her has been lies. Jake isn't trying. He doesn't want to try. He just wanted her influence and money. But what could he do? He couldn't just tell her that, especially since she's optimistic about the situation  

“You deserve to be happy too, YN, you know that right?” Heeseung said. 

“Yeah…I know…it's just a weird time right now,” she said. 

“If you're unhappy, you'd tell me, right?” He asked, looking into her eyes for an answer.

No.

“Of course, you're my closest friend, I tell you everything,” she smiled at him, squeezing his knee with her hand.

“Okay, just making sure,” he said, nudging her.

Just then, they heard the door open and close. The light to the front entrance came on and Heeseung and YN watched Jake walk right past them, sighing to himself as he walked down to his room. Not even bothering to glance and look at them, seeing his friend sat with his wife.

“What the fuck?” Heeseung suddenly got up, his blood boiling at what just happened. “Is that what he does every night?”

“Heeseung, just leave it, I'll handle it,” YN said, gripping his pants.

“No. That's bullshit,” Heeseung began to walk towards Jake's room and barged through the door. 

Jake was in the middle of removing his clothes for a shower, turning confused as he saw Heeseung come into his bathroom.

“Dude, what are you doing here? Where did you come from?” Jake asked, covering himself with a towel.

“Heeseung,” YN came in after him, trying to pull Heeseung away.

“YN?” Jake asked, confused.

“You'd see me if you cared to even glance over at our direction,” Heeseung said. “YN invited me over for dinner because someone forgot to come home on time.”

“Since when were you two friends?” Jake asked.

“I told you we've been friends, Jake,” Heeseung said. 

“Alright, good to know. Can I take my shower now?” Jake asked, trying to motion them out of his room. 

“No, Jake this isn't-” Just as Heeseung was talking, YN ran past Jake and to the toilet where she threw up all the contents of her stomach. 

She didn't know what came over her but she suddenly felt sick and needed to vomit. Heeseung gasped and followed suit, coming up and comforting YN and holding up her hair for her as she released everything. Jake rolled his eyes, disgusted by the sight. 

“You better clean that up, I don't want my toilet smelling like puke,” Jake said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Heeseung yelled, anger in his voice.

Just then, YN stopped and flushed the toilet. Her heart racing and dropping at the same time from Jake's words. She wondered if trying was still on the table, he really was a dick.

“Are you okay? Here let me help,” Heeseung attended to YN, wiping her mouth and helping her to her feet. Jake watched the sight, scoffing to himself and feeling a knot in his stomach. He couldn't stand watching this.

“Just both of you get out, I've had a long day and you made it 10 times worse YN with your vomit,” Jake said, pointing to the door. 

Heeseung glared at him, YN nodding and taking Heeseung and dragging him away.

“We're not done with this conversation,” Heeseung said to Jake, slamming the door behind him. 

Jake stood there. Feeling defeated and much like a dick. He didn’t know what came over him. He doesn't know why he's like this. Why can't he just be nice to her? But seeing her with Heeseung of all people, watching as Heeseung tended to his wife, went and cared for his wife. His blood was boiling and he needed to cool off. He needed his shower.

In the kitchen, YN sat on a stool sipping water as Heeseung stood there with a frown on his face and his arms crossed over his head. Jake was never a person to be like this, he was always kind and down to earth. At least the Jake he knew. Why was he being so mean to YN? Did he hate the situation that much? What was his true motive? YN didn’t deserve this type of treatment and Heeseung was determined to show her more than ever what she was worth. What she truly deserves.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“No,” she chuckled, looking down. Heeseung could see the sadness in her eyes.

“YN, please…do something if you don’t want this. You do not deserve to be treated like that,” he said.

“I’m sure we just have to get to know each other better, plus, you said it yourself how Jake was a decent guy,” she said.

“Why are you so set on making it work?” He said, groaning in frustration.

“My parents were in an arranged marriage, you know? My dad really, really didn’t like my mom. But they grew on each other over time and…they had us out of love,” YN said, a small smile forming on her lips. “So I’m determined to make it work too. For the sake of everyone.”

Heeseung felt soft. He looked at her with understanding eyes and nodded slowly. He came over to her and smiled, giving her a small hug. Any friend would hug their friend in that situation, right?

“You always see the best in situations,” he said. “I always admire that.”

“You have to when you live in this world,” she said.

“I have to go, but please, call me for anything. Just anything and I’ll be here, okay?” He said as YN stood to walk him out.

She nodded and smiled at her friend. She didn’t have many friends, and the small circle she had she was always grateful for.

“Of course, don’t be a stranger, Heeseung. Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” she said as they got to the door.

“It was great catching up, and thanks for that meal. It was delicious,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

After Heeseung left, YN was left in the quiet home, again reminding her of the reality of her situation. She sighed and went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the last things from the night. Just as she finished putting up the rest of the dishes, Jake came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a towel drying his hair.

“Heeseung’s gone?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“Mhm,” she said. “Jake, can we talk?”

“About what?” he asked.

“Everything,” she said. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, turning around and facing her.

“Like we’re strangers who occasionally sleep together,” she said.

“But aren’t we?” he asked, in a mocking tone. “We aren’t friends.”

YN stared at him in disbelief. So he really didn’t want to work things out. She didn't know why he was being like this.

“YN, you invite another man into our home, my best friend to be exact, and you expect me to be happy about it?” he asked.

Oh. So that’s what this is about? 

“Are you…are you jealous?” she asked.

Jake placed his water down and walked over to her, placing his arms on both sides of her, trapping her between his body and the counter.

“Should I be worried?” he asked. 

“Where were you tonight? Heeseung said you left the office at 6:30,” she said.

“With my parents,” he shrugged. “I meant it when I said I’d be loyal, YN. I expect the same.”

“Jake, Heeseung has been my friend for years now and I don’t have many friends, but he’s one,” YN said. “If it bothers you, just tell me.”

“Why would it bother me?” he asked, his breath on her face as he got closer.

“Exactly, why would it? Like you said, we aren’t friends,” she said.

“Right,” he replied. “I didn’t like how he touched your back.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have if you came over and at least acted concerned,” she said, pushing him back a little, to which he responded by pushing her back and holding her tighter.

“We took an oath, YN. I expect you to respect that. By oath and the rings on our fingers, you’re mine,” he said just as he crashed his lips to hers in a kiss.

There was nothing special about the kiss other than lust and frustration. YN was frustrated but responded and wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and carried her to the living room. He placed her on the couch and immediately began undressing her. He ripped her clothes off her body with such fever as he nipped at the skin on her neck and collarbones. She laid bare before him as he manhandled her however he pleased, gripping her hips tightly and slamming his length in her core. She gasped, reaching behind her to push him back. Her eyes watering from the sting.

“Jake, slow down,” she said, her lungs on fire as she gasped for air.

“This is what you wanted, right?” He asked, as he relentlessly pounded into her.

There wasn’t much pleasure in this as she still felt the pain of his thrusts. Her eyes watering as he used her body for his pleasure.

“S-slow-” she tried to say as she groaned in pain.

Jake spit on his hand and began to rub her clit, making her body wet as she got used to his thrusts. Soon the pain began to subside as she began to feel pleasure, but deep down it was there and she knew she was going to be sore as the abuse on her cervix was becoming worse. Jake pulled out, and flipped her over on her back before slamming back in. He attached his mouth to her chest as she moaned and laid there. She couldn’t even enjoy it at this point as Jake slammed himself in and out of her, the pain still there.

“It hurts,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Jake slowed down, seeing the tears down her face and her uncomfortable expression. They weren’t tears of pleasure, they were tears of pain. He reached up and kissed them away as he slowed his pace and moved at a much more relaxed pace.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he breathed out, she just responded in a nod.

“It’s okay,” she said, her body feeling more relaxed as his pace slowed and her wetness building up. “Keep going.”

He did as she instructed, moving to a better place and much less aggressive. YN could feel the pleasure building and the tightness forming. Jake was chasing his own high as he picked up his pace and together they were moaning and groaning with one another. Jake looked at her face, saw as she arched her back and closed her eyes as her climax hit her. That alone sent him over the edge as he released his seed inside, painting her walls white. Many nights he has claimed her as his, and as he pulled out and saw her there on the couch catching her breath. He could see the bruises he left on her body and the tears on her face. He felt disgusted.

He got up and grabbed a wet washcloth and came back as he cleaned her up. She winced in pain and he winced at himself for causing it. He didn’t care anymore that they were supposed to have a baby. This felt wrong and he didn’t want to do this to her. He couldn’t do this to her anymore, having sex with no passion and thoughts. It wasn’t right and in that moment Jake decided that would be the last time. He wasn’t going to become that man he always hated. He got up and quickly rushed to his room, abandoning the girl. He needed to get away so she couldn’t see him. 

When he closed the door behind him, he broke down. His own sobs came out and he realized just how miserable he really was.

[liillyliilly]

All Night Long

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 1162 synopsis; the whole pen pal thing had been his mom's idea. now? he was glad that he had someone like her to tell everything to.

(So, if you just give me a chance, I can still show you romance)

Iwaizumi doesn’t quite remember when he started sending letters to Y/n. All he remembers is that his mom wanted him to diversify his communication skills, since he had only really ever talked to the boys on his volleyball team.

So, sending letters back and forth with a girl from Tokyo seemed like a rational solution to Mrs. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi would send one letter one week and then she would send a letter the next one. And that’s how it had been for four years.

At first the letters were strictly professional. Asking about goals, academics, and life plans. Gradually, the shells of both Iwaizumi and Y/N were chipped away at. Divulging details of a bad kiss, or something hilarious a friend did. When she started to cut out classic memes, putting cardstock editions of volleyball player trading cards and writing out various links to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up", Iwaizumi thought he met his almost heavenly match.

While she didn't play volleyball, she treated it like something special, and respected Iwaizumi's love for the sport. He felt proud when she acknowledged how much of a hard-worker he must have been to be ranked so highly in his prefecture with his team.

She also always knew what to write to him to help motivate him. Quotes from famous people never made an appearance, she just had the old soul wisdom to articulate exactly what needed to be said to him.

Iwaizumi does remember when he started to wait right next to the mailbox just so he could read her letter as soon as possible. And he does remember when it starts to take him longer than five hours to write a response. And he definitely remembers when Oikawa starts to tease him about his hobby.

“You actually write to her every week?” Oikawa holds up the basket that Iwaizumi keeps all of her letters in. Carefully they are sectioned off by year and then by month. He has written the date they arrived in the corner of the envelope so he can keep all of them organized. When Oikawa starts to pull out letters, Iwaizumi rips the basket out of his hands and holds it close to his chest.

“No, Shittykawa. It’s every other week.” Iwaizumi sides the basket under his bed before slumping back down into his beanbag.

Oikawa grins before sitting down on a chair opposite to Iwaizumi. “Have you ever thought about asking her for her number?”

“Why would I?”

“Because then you guys can talk, without having to wait two weeks before the other responds.” Oikawa shrugs pulling out his phone to mess around on it, eyes peeking out over his glasses to look at Iwaizumi. “Unless, of course, you're afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” Iwaizumi grabs his clipboard to start writing his response letter, her most recent letter sitting on his side table so he can reference it.

Except, this time, instead of a nice long handwritten letter, it’s a simple series of numbers. And a small phrase. “Text me?” Iwaizumi considers drawing a smiley face, or even just a small shrugging stick figure drawing. But he thinks that what he wrote is enough. He hopes it’s enough for her to contact him.

The walk to drop off the letter in his mailbox is agonizing. He retreats twice before his mom yells at him and tells him he needs to send it today or else the letter schedule will be all messed up. The thought of Y/N having to wait longer than seven days to get his letter suddenly becomes more of a worry than his potential rejection of swapping numbers.

On day one, the day after the mailperson picked up the letter, Iwaizumi's hands were perpetually sweaty.

On day two, Iwaizumi felt a little better, he could forget all about his pen pal and then it would be perfectly fine. Except he could never forget her.

Days three to six were a blur. His phone felt heavier each day, and he even decided to leave it home from school on day six because he kept looking at it for too long. Checking again and again for any new messages.

(I wanna get real close to you)

Iwaizumi almost faints when an unrecognized number sends the phrase, “I know who you are Hajime.” He grips at his heart before easing up when the next message is sent. “Because it's me! Y/n L/n.”

She sends him a lot of Godzilla memes. She talks about her day. She asks him about volleyball. She rants about the people she goes to school with. She is perfect to him.

His palms are sweaty as he wipes them onto his joggers as he stares at Y/n’s contact. The phone icon mocking him for his nervousness. He takes a deep breath. She had told him that she’s used to having her friends call her an obnoxious number of times, but that she likes talking on the phone because she likes hearing people’s voices. Iwaizumi leans back on his desk chair and runs his hands through his hair.

He had drank his mother's throat soothing honey lemon tea for at least a week leading up to his decision to call her. But the nerves about what his voice sounded like still irked him. He had been told that he had a rough voice by his friends. A dorky voice from Oikawa. A lovely voice by his mom. What would she think though? Her opinion was the only one that really mattered anyway.

He stands up and shakes his legs and hands in an effort to get rid of his anxiety. He jumps around in his room for a bit as he tries to get his energy out. Iwaizumi puts his hands on his face and reminds himself, calling people is normal. Totally and completely normal. But his reminder does nothing to ease how his right hand is shaking while it hovers over the call button.

He presses the button and hold his phone to his ear, biting down on his lip.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice asks. And Iwaizumi’s heart races as it tries to find a way to ingrain her voice upon itself.

“Y/n! Hi, it's me Hajime!” He cringes when he realizes how alike he sounds to Oikawa. Enthusiasm didn’t fit the way he acted, but the way Y/n interacted with him made him want to be as keen as possible.

“Hajime! What’s up?” A large smile overwhelms his face as he rubs the back of his head.

Neither really knows how long they spent on the phone talking. But by the time it was around two in the morning, Y/n was snoring softly over the phone and Iwaizumi was breathing at an even pace with his phone sitting on his pillow close to his ear.

(All night long)

[wanderingblindly]

WanderingBlindly Fanfic Masterlist:

Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri

By Touch (1.6k words, onshot)

Oscar's fingers shift, reaching for Lando's wrist and moving them both. "The hardest thing to learn, I think," Oscar starts, voice barely audible over Lando's heart, his shallow breaths. "Is letting yourself feel." Delicately, like one would touch the wings of a butterfly, Oscar ghosts Lando's fingers across his cheekbone. He's soft, as if the pink under his skin is a gently unfurling rose petal after spring rain.

Oscar Piastri's (Full Homo) Guide to Fucking Your Boyfriend (10.3k words, 1/2 Chapters)

"Has my girlfriend ever kissed a guy before?" Oscar's eyes move to Lando's lips, lashes fluttering gold in the setting sun. Girlfriend. His mind goes silent, lips parted and eyelids heavy. It feels... nice. Hearing that. It feels good, even. Like Oscar's claiming him, possessing him. Girlfriend. He whispers back, feather-light. "No." Oscar looks back up, catches his eyes. "Do you want to?"

Lando Norris's (No Homo) Guide to Getting a Girlfriend (10k words, oneshot)

"Bet I could teach you." Oscar's eyes snap back to his, wider than the time Lando suggested they go skydiving in the off-season. "Teach me –" "The Lando Norris guide to getting laid." Oscar pulls a face. "That's not –" "Getting a girlfriend, then." Lando amends, holding up his largely-empty glass in cheers. "Cheers to not being a virgin, mate."

We're Not Really Strangers (4.1k words, oneshot)

"Fine," Desperate to move away from his increasingly not PR-friendly train of thought, Lando snags another card. "What's the first thing you noticed about me?" "Your eyes." Oscar freezes as soon as he's said it, mouth clamped shut and brows raised – shocked. At himself. Or: Lando and Oscar play ice breakers for a PR video, what could happen?

Impasse of Biting (12.5k words, 2/2 chapters)

"Maybe it would be good for you, something like this." Lando looks away from the espresso machine, over at Charles. "Like what?" "A vampire." "Charles," Lando breathes out, leaning against the back of his workstation and crossing his arms. "I've told you, it's not..." it's a me problem. He's the one that can't seem to connect to people, he's the one that's not noteworthy enough to want.

Too Close to Touch (2.3k words, oneshot)

"Sit up," Oscar groans, aiming for a more demanding tone than he can gather with Lando's mouth sucking lightly at his neck – not enough to bruise. Lando makes a noise in response, petulant and determined, that makes Oscar's head spin. Like he's addicted to him, unwilling to let go. Like this isn't some fucking insane bet that they made during the driver's parade. Or, Lando and Oscar make a bet: how important are hands when it comes to kissing, anyways?

It'll Pass (5.7k words, oneshot)

"Don't wanna win if you're not there." Lando says, pinkies still intertwined, looking Oscar dead in the eyes. He says it like it's common sense, like it's a normal thing to say to a teammate. Like it's not the closest Oscar will ever get to hearing I love you. "Promise." They let go.

Watch Me (5.5k words, oneshot)

It's half seven, and just like nearly every other day since he's moved in, his neighbor is in his bathroom – poorly concealed by the frosted glass window that's not nearly as frosted as it should be. He's standing on his toes, bending over his sink to get closer to the mirror, clad in next to nothing but short, black briefs. His eyes roam higher, heartrate spiking when he sees it, just like every other time he's seen it: Oscar's neighbor, a seemingly unmated omega, wears his collar. At home. Alone. When he's wearing next to nothing else.

Time After Time (3.k words, oneshot)

It's him, it's definitely... him. But it's him from years ago, narrower in the shoulders and more uncertain in his smile. He recognizes what he's wearing, remembers agonizing over it for the better part of an hour with George and Alex, both laying on his tiny dormitory bed with eager eyes. It's their first date.

Late Nights (1.3k words, oneshot)

Oscar leans forward and rummages through the bag, nabbing a pair of chopsticks and an unopened container. "Want me to stay?" Lando's heart sinks; has he been home late so often that Oscar would offer? "Babe, it's really gonna be a late one, I can't --" He talks around his mouthful of noodles. "I don'mind."

Someone in Seattle (11.6k words, oneshot)

“Could I, like… would you be my model for it? Maybe?” “That’s what the coffee was for then?” “No, that was, uh.” He can feel his face heating up, skin undeniably turning a deeper shade of red under Lando’s gaze – mirthful and a little something else. “That was different.” “Gonna say what?” “No.”

Keep Talking (2.7k words, oneshot)

Closing his eyes, pulling a deep breath in through his nose, Lando lowers himself to the floor – sitting directly next to Oscar’s spread knees. “Yeah?” Oscar asks, voice already softer – leading. He’s still sat casually against the sofa, looking down at Lando with warm, understanding eyes. Lando nods in response, eyes fluttering closed as he lets himself lean against Oscar’s leg, rubbing his cheek against his sweatpants.

Nouveau Hot (3.5k words, oneshot)

Lando’s hand moves faster, the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each stroke, each flick of his wrist. Easy muscle memory, it should be enough but — “Need you, need you, need you now, I- Osc, please I -oh fuck,” He’s rambling, the words spilling out faster as he desperately chases release — hips fucking up uselessly into his hand. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

Lando v Media (1.2k words, oneshot)

He’s very aware that fucking his teammate isn’t exactly the best PR move he’s ever come up with. And he didn’t need to be told that, to be clear. Though, to be even clearer, he was told that – Jon made quick work of pointing it out, as did the HR representative, as did the PR representative, as did Andrea. But again, he was already aware, so that all felt really excessive.

Bite Down (Show Me How) (1.2k words, oneshot)

“I’m a virgin, by the way.” Smooth start. Oscar, to his irritating credit, doesn’t even look at him from his spot, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “Yeah?” He turns his head, giving Lando a look that makes him realize he’s not the one in charge here. “Wanna do something ‘bout that?”

You Bring Me Closer to God (9.7k words, oneshot)

They’re still close enough to whisper, Lando’s hand holding him in place as he grins wildly. “You like it rough, Osc?” He doesn’t even care if it’s just a bit, just Lando’s stage persona washing over him like it does all his fans. Looking up at Lando, looking at the lipstick he smeared across his cupid’s bow and chin – it’s like he’s seen god. Felt it on his lips, tasted it on his tongue. Oscar grabs him by the nape of the neck without a second thought, pulling them together just as viciously as the first time. Or: In which Lando is a very slutty front-man for a small band seeking their big break, Oscar is an enamored bartender, and Jenson's bar brings them together.

Hot Pink Ring Pops (Would You Marry Me If I Was a Worm?) (4.2k words, oneshot)

“Oscar isn’t ever gonna marry me if I’m a worm, Jon!” He laments, the words uneven and jagged as he sobs (which, Jon realizes, can’t be good for whatever injuries he’s possibly sustained from the crash). Somehow more importantly, what the fuck did Lando just say?

Is It Gay to Watch Your Teammate on Tiktok? (Asking for a Friend) (12.3k words, 2/2 Chapters)

He’s sitting on the bed, dinner long since picked at, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He feels close to hyperventilating. It’s playing on loop, some sappy little edit captioned “i need to find someone to look at me the same way oscar looks at lando”. And really, who the fuck was going to tell him that Oscar smiles at him like that? 

Mortifying! Anyways, (2.3k words, oneshot)

Mortifying interaction, but he’d survive. Besides, it’s not like the cashier was that cut– “Cute enough to make you stupid, huh Norris?” He could hear his smile before he saw his face, a proper Cheshire grin. “Fuck off mate,” Lando groaned, already trying to scrub the cashier from his brain. Except for the Australian accent, he decided; that bit could stay. Maybe his eyes, too, as tired as they had seemed. And his hair, which looked so soft in that kind of ridiculous side part.

If I'm Barbie, and You're Barbie, then Who's Driving the Bus? (814 words, oneshot)

Anyways, the driver room is largely quiet at the moment. But not entirely, much to Lando’s enjoyment. Buzzing from Oscar’s headphones, loud enough for Lando to hear the words, is a song from Barbie. Charli XCX, no less. 

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 4 - MONTH 3 - GROWING PAINS

First - Prev - Next

Everything hurts.

I started noticing it about two weeks after my first dose. It felt like a dull headache at first, but over the next month it spread to pretty much my entire body.

I had to start working from home, and eventually it got bad enough that I could only put in a few hours of work each day. My boss is a reasonable enough guy, but he wasn't going to pay a full time salary for part time hours, so I had to take a salary cut.

Luckily, my partner is around to take care of daily errands, not to mention being there to reassure and comfort me when the pain gets bad. They've been thinking about seeing if Lindwurm HRT is a thing, but they don't want to get the process started until I'm in the clear and can take care of myself again.

Gods I love them.

The reason the pain is happening, as best I can tell, is that my skeletal structure is already changing. I've gotten at least an inch taller, and my face has been reshaping into a feline muzzle. My teeth are getting sharper, and I'm developing proper fangs. I also noticed a little while ago that my fingernails and toenails had receded into their respective digits, which sucks for two reasons - I can't paint fingernails I don't have, and they are sore as HELL when I put any amount of pressure on them. I have to be REALLY careful with how I type to not inflict agony on myself. I'm also feeling my tail growing in, and even if it hurts, it's euphoric as HELL. A tail was always the part I wanted most out of this.

It's weird, the skeletal changes weren't supposed to happen this early. I've been trying to reach Dr. Erian about it, but he's constantly busy, probably because of the sudden surge of people looking for Humanity Removal Therapy.

Other than that, I've been getting areas of white and black fur coming in - mostly on my arms and legs, but a little bit on my face and ears - ears that are gradually reshaping and migrating. Nothing to report on hearing sensitivity, but I think my night vision is getting better.

I did a little bit of looking around for anyone with similar pain experiences. I got my hopes up when I found a girl, Antonina, who had a painful experience with Cat HRT, but it turns out it's because she took the rumoured Fifteen Minute version. She described the pain as "like bathing in an active volcano".

It leaves me wondering whether I would have preferred a 15-minute lava bath over a months-long full-body headache.

I ended up reaching out to her anyway, just because I wanted to know what I was in for in the endgame and feline HRT is rarer than I thought it would be. Sounds like the prey drive is the real deal - she keeps feeling the urge to bite this one girl who's on mouse HRT.

We've been spending some time comparing notes and getting to know each other. It's nice to know someone else who's going through this thing, even if our experiences aren't exactly one-to-one.

I also talked to my mother for the first time in nearly a year. I went No Contact with her a while back because she was only getting more obnoxious and combative about me being trans, but I figured changing my species is a big enough deal that I should keep her in the loop.

Besides, my savings had nearly dried up and I needed to ask her for money.

It… did not go well. She hadn't heard of therian HRT before, and once I explained it, she started panicking about how I'm "mutilating my body" with "untested treatments". I think I also heard her cry something about how her "son" is "killing himself", which is just multiple layers of insensitive.

At least she sent me some money. Hopefully it'll be enough to last until my transformation stops being agonizing and I can go back to work, and then I can go right back to pretending my family doesn't exist.

At roughly the three-month mark, I have a check-in video call with Dr. Erian. From the moment his face appears on screen, though, I can tell something is wrong. He seems… older, somehow.

"Hello, Miss Alexis.", he offers. He sounds tired. Sorrowful, even.

"Hey, doc." I have to ask about it. "Everything okay? You seem a bit tired."

"Nothing to worry about Miss Alexis, just the ordinary stresses of daily life."

Liar. I know I'm not entitled to details of your personal life, much less your professional secrets, but I know when something is eating at someone.

"…Does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you, Miss Alexis?"

Huh? That came a bit out of left field. "I've… heard some other therian HRT patients use the term, but I don't know much of the details. Something about a point of no return?"

"Something of the sort." He lowers his head and seems to go from sorrowful to downright grim. "There will come a time, Miss Alexis, when you will have to make a very important decision in your care, and I ask that you do so with great consideration for the consequences."

I recoil a little in my seat. "Yeah… Of course I will. Any decision I make, even reaching out to you in the first place, I don't take it lightly."

"Good… That's good." His demeanor shifts back to his stoic, clinical self. I don't know what just happened, but he went somewhere for a moment there.

"Now then, I did receive your messages, I apologize for not getting back to you. You mentioned you were experiencing persistent and debilitating whole-body soreness?"

"Yeah. I can't even leave the apartment most days, it hurts so much."

"Odd… You are taking the treatment as directed, yes?"

"Of course. One tablespoon a week, just like it says on the bottle."

I see his eyes twitch behind his glasses. Did I say something wrong?

"…Teaspoon."

I cock my head to the side. "Say again?"

"You mean one TEASPOON a week, yes?"

I feel my heart sink. The dark smear on the dosage information… I could have sworn it said '1 tbsp/week'.

"…Could you hold on a second please?" I mute the mic and call out to my partner to bring the bottle of tiger HRT over. When they do, I unmute and hold it up to the webcam. I hear Dr. Erian take a sharp intake of breath as he notices the obscured instructions.

I set the bottle aside and the two of us share an awkward silence.

"So…", I begin. "…How bad is it?"

"The good news", he offers slowly, "is that you have only been taking three times the prescribed dose. An increased dose imbalances the growth rate of the different parts of your body, hence your pain and persistent weakness, but it could have been much worse."

I think back to the so-called Fifteen Minute version, and Antonina's description of it - like bathing in an active volcano.

Dr. Erian continues. "Assuming you return to a CORRECT dose, your growth rates will gradually level out over the course of the next month or so. It is my medical opinion that you should maintain a low-activity lifestyle until then, but you will eventually be able to return to your typical activity level, and you will also find that the physical effects become more… consistent."

"That's… reassuring. Thank you, doctor." I pause. Something I noticed a little while ago has been weighing on my mind. "There's one thing, though - do the treatments have… I guess you'd call them restorative or regenerative effects? I've noticed some old wounds aren't there anymore."

The doctor clicks his pen and brings up his notepad. "Interesting. Do go on, Miss Alexis."

"Well… I used to get lower back pain from a car crash injury I got a little over a year ago, but I haven't noticed it at all lately. Pretty much the only part that DOESN'T hurt… There also used to be some marks on my arm from a cat biting me when I was little." I give a slight smile. "The cat's name was Tiger, go figure."

Dr. Erian is writing the whole time I'm talking. "Yes, that is to be expected. Minor persistent injuries will fade over time as your body re-forms itself to a new baseline, even severe chronic symptoms may fade. If there are no other concerns…"

"Just one… Most of the other therian HRT patients I've talked to have gotten their meds as pills, so what's with the potion bottle?"

Dr. Erian pauses, and adjusts his glasses nervously, as if he's been caught out on something he doesn't want to admit to. "Well… advances in the field are occurring rapidly, and you are one of the more recent patients, so a more… streamlined option was available to you. I took the liberty of choosing the most compatible option based on your medical records, and that bottle is it."

"Okay… But what's IN it?"

"The active ingredients are antihominidone, which is your humanity-blocker, and a specialized formula of felistrogen, infused with white tiger genetic material. The rest of the fluid is a suspension used to dilute the effects, without which you would be looking at a short, but excruciating and potentially lethal process."

The Fifteen Minute version, I think to myself. I'm taking diluted Fifteen Minute meds. There's no WAY this isn't experimental, and I'M the experiment. I despise saying it, but maybe my mother was right to worry.

"But I'm afraid I really do have to go, Miss Alexis, my next appointment is waiting."

"G-gotcha. See ya, doctor."

---

Special thanks to @paintedbytosia for letting me write her in, and shoutout to @megamoonerjenny for coming up with 'antihominidone'

[generalkenobee]

Needy whore

Warnings: name calling, degradation, mentions of female masterbation, pnv, reader is on birth control FEM!reader, dom!Kylo, reader worshiping kylo, choking but little to no force, rough sex turns into soft sex, reader is the only person allowed to call Kylo Ben

This was your punishment. You were trying to get a rise out of Kylo so he'd fuck you harder but things didn't go as expected. "Well if you're going to act like this then I won't give you any sexual attention"

The past two weeks had been so long and agonizing. All you could think about was Kylos heavy cock and how it would feel to pump. You've thought about masterbation but it wouldn't even work, your body has become so used to him you can't do it by yourself. Your fingers are too small, your hands too soft, and you don't have the same stamina he does.

You wanted to be filled up to the brim with his seed while he continued to push in deeper, you needed him to pull your hair, fuck you against a wall with someone in the next room, his large rough hand would travel down your belly until it was rig-

"excuse me? Are you even listening or are we wasting our time miss (L/N)?" General Hux's voice rang through the empty hallway. You weren't even sure what he was talking to you about, something along the lines of needing help with a new droid?

"yes sir- I mean general" you responded quickly straightening you back and looking him in the eyes. "Very well, you may go-"

"thank you si- general!" You cut him off running to the supreme leaders quarters to try to beg for forgiveness

•••

"please!" You whined with Kylo standing in front of you while you spread your legs around him so you could rub your cunt on hit boots. "No" his response was short and cold.

"I'll do anything.. Please Kylo! Please let me cum!" There were hot tears running down your face at this point. "I- I need you!"

"is that it? Too pathetic to make yourself cum?" His voice was deep and would've been scary if you hadn't been dating for over 3 years. "Do you need my help?" He questioned grabbing your jaw in his left hand while cupping your vulva in his right.

Your hips rutted up into him while your eyes rolled back, moaning in ecstasy. It was such little pleasure but it meant the world considering it had been so long.

Kylo pulled your face forward forcefully pressing his full lips to yours. Oh God his lips... They were so plush and soft, the feeling of them on your pulsing clit was unmatched. You moaned into the kiss trying to pull him over to the bed. both your hands were on his biceps pulling him further toward you till he was practically laying atop you crushing you under his weight.

"mmm.." your arms wrapped around his neck scratching his scalp while Kylo gently ran his middle finger down your stomach to the very start of your slit. "Please"

"needy whore" a chill ran down your back when his finger slowly dragged down you "you're my white though, you'd never act this way towards anyone but your supreme leader, isn't that right?" You loved when he talked like this, and you were so lost in his words you didn't respond. "I asked you a question." Kylos voice rang in your ears while his hand wrapped around your throat as a warning. "Yes Kylo, no one knows me like you do"

"no one gets to see this side of you but me" your head lifted off the mattress to kiss him again while his finger started slowly rubbing circles on your clit "thank you, thank you so much" you feel short of breath as your head lulls back onto his pillows, eyes closed. You still felt his fingers but he wasn't rubbing you anymore, instead he was getting his clothes off.

About 15 minutes had passed of him teasing you with the force "augh! I'm c-close- mmhmmm, please" but it stopped "nice and wet hm?" You nodded your head reaching over for his hard cock pumping him softly "I'm soaked"

Kylo put his hands on your hips lifting you up to straddle him while his head rested on his headboard "slide it in whore, wanna see how bad you want it" at that sentence you yanked him up to your entrance moaning while you slid down with ease "maybe I've been too cruel?" Kylo said with a questioning tone "ma-maybe you have.. neglecting me, and my needs" your throat felt tight and you couldn't continue your sentence "careful baby..." He said looking at you through thick lashes. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cock inside you at last and the feeling of his hand around your neck.

Eventually it became softer sex, less choking and more kissing, less degradation and more praise

"B-Ben..can you" you stopped in fear of looking stupid. Although your boyfriends hand slightly tilted and you felt the similar feeling of his middle finger on your clit once more. "Ben!" Your hands flew up to his shoulders squeezing as you clenched. "I-I"

"I know baby, go on"

[seospicybin]

HOMESICK.

The next chapter of Haven.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: After being separated by the distance, Chan learns to build a new home with you. (11,7k words)

Author's note: Sorry it took a long time for me to finish it. You can definitely read it without reading Haven first. It's a sweet fic of domestic romance with Chan. Swear to you there's no angst in it. Happy reading!

What makes a home?

Well, it takes two to build one.

It started with the need for each other's presence in life.

"My bed feels so empty without you," he said into the phone.

You chuckled in response, "or maybe your bed is too big,"

You heard the faint sound of piano playing in the background, "the neighbor is playing the piano again?"

"Yes, here listen," chan held out his phone on the balcony so you could listen to the piece of piano.

"You heard that?"

"Yes, it's Nocturne by Chopin," you said to him.

"It's so nice," he sighed.

"Yeah," you also sighed.

"Gosh, I miss you so much," he softly said.

And you felt it too, how the distance between you drained the life out of you the longer you were away from each other.

"I miss you too," you said back and wished that saying it would lessen the ache of being away from each other.

It became a habit of him calling you whenever he misses you, or you miss him, or when something reminds any of you of your shared memories.

And this habit only made this longing for each other more intense, turning all the wants into needs.

Until one night none of you could take it anymore.

"Come back to me," he said with so much desperation in his voice like a wayfarer who had traveled long without water.

"I need you here. Come back!" He said again.

It was either of relief or joy, but you cried because he wanted it as much as you did.

"Move in and mess my place again," he said.

You laughed into the phone, "yes, okay," you answered without thinking because your heart yearned for him, to be in his life again and him in yours.

"I'll wait for you at home,"

"See you at home," you said to him knowing that those words wouldn't just be empty words anymore.

If you ask again, what makes a home?

You always thought that when you found it, your heart felt it, that sense of comfort you didn't get anywhere else, an instant serenity like you're exactly where you belong. Your heart felt lighter but full at the same time, lighter because you know all your weariness disappeared in an instant, and full because your heart filled with warm feelings.

You felt all that as he hugged you.

After a year of being separated by miles and miles of distance, you came back home, to him and the heart that beats inside his chest where your home truly lies.

"Welcome home," he whispered into your ear.

And you hugged him tighter because it felt like a dream still.

"Chris..." you muttered into his chest then looked up at him.

You had thought over and over about your decision to move in with him, not that you doubted him but it was a big decision that required you to move abroad but also left your job and life back there to move on to new things entirely.

"Thank you for coming back to me," he sincerely said.

And that was enough to convince you that this was the right decision.

The year you had spent away from each other was excruciating, tormenting, raging storms and dark days, the distance did nothing but made you both vulnerable and restless, you didn't need each other to merely exist but something just didn't feel right.

It was nice to go out of the house once in a while but if you were away too long, it dawned on you, the homesickness.

"I'm so happy to be home," you said and the agonizing pain of being away from each other disappeared at that moment.

The sound of the piano welcomed you back into Chan's apartment and you went to the balcony to listen to it loud and clear.

They played Beethoven's Piano Concert No. 5 and it couldn't be more a perfect piano piece to play on such an occasion.

Chan came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you, "it feels complete now,"

You put your hands on his and rested your head on his shoulder, your head tilted upward at the night sky dotted with stars.

"No, it isn't," you disagreed.

You pressed a kiss on his lips and he gladly returned the kiss.

"Now it is," you said against his lips.

He smiled at you and sank his mouth in yours while tightening the hold around you, not letting you go again.

Having you on his bed again felt like a dream.

The shape you took against the white sheet, there's nothing like it.

For this one night, he wanted to make sweet love to you.

He touched you so tenderly as he would to a flower with so much tenderness, fingertips trailed your smooth skin and raised goosebumps all over you.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember," he murmured with eyes following his hand squeezing the flesh on your waist.

You never felt more loved and admired in your life, but he did more than that, worshipping every inch of your body like you were a goddess.

His mouth endlessly whispered sweet words into your ear.

"You're so heavenly."

"My hands can't stop touching you."

"Gosh, I miss kissing these lips."

"My love..." he sighed with so much delight and contentment.

The sex was slow and steady, continually thrusting into you with the same depth and intensity. Mouths incessantly kissing you, hands clasped with fingers slipped between the spaces of your fingers, perfectly like they were made for you to hold.

Chan was overwhelmed, it felt as if he had sex for the first time all over again and it was because of you, you made it all happen for him.

You rested your head on his chest with him resting his back against the headboard, your legs tangled together under the duvet and your foot rubbing his shin.

He kissed you so tenderly and seemed won't stop doing it, "I can't believe you're here," he said.

"I can't believe I'm here," you repeated.

It all still felt like a dream to you, it was only hours ago you have separated miles away from each other but here you were, cuddling with him on the mess of his bed.

"I can't believe you're doing this for us," he said with utmost sincerity and a bright smile.

But you smiled at the word 'us', which was the word that means so much more than just a part of English vocabulary, it means having and owning, you and him, together at last.

"I trust you," you said.

"I trust us," you corrected, lacing your hand with his.

You knew the future was distant, not within reach but you gradually approaching it, things are inevitable, good or bad. You didn't want to think of what the outcome would be, you put your faith in you and him, on the word 'us' and hoped that the word etched in both of your tombstones.

Chan kissed the back of your hand then placed it on his chest with his heart beating under the skin and bones, "I trust us," he said back.

If you want to build a home, you started by having a strong foundation: trust.

-

"You don't have to work, I'll provide for both of us," Chan confidently said to you while serving you a plate of breakfast.

You cooed in awe, "wow, that's very tempting!"

You slid the plate closer in front of you and took a sip of your juice before picking up your spoon.

"It's just an option!" He said with a shrug and that foolish grin of his.

He sat next to you with his plate of breakfast in front of him but his hand rested on your thigh, "you don't have to worry about the interview," he assured you.

"You'll do great!" He kissed your cheek to manifest his words into you.

A little before you left, you applied for a job at an art gallery and secured an interview. You forgot how nerve-wracking a job interview could be but once you have done it, it felt so relieving, and surprisingly, you didn't worry about anything else after that.

Chan came home for dinner, smothering you with kisses the moment he stepped into the apartment, only letting you go as your lungs shriveled from running out of oxygen.

"You're cooking dinner?"

You nodded.

"How's the job interview?"

You put your hands on the collar of his shirt, "You'd better wash up and back in five minutes, dinner is almost ready," you told him.

He smiled and pecked your lips, "yes, ma'am!"

The neighbor started playing their piano early that night, they played Piano Sonata No. 12 by Mozart, the piece began with a soft key then switches to an even softer key, and you let the calming piano music wash over you.

"How is it?" You asked as he ate his dinner without saying anything.

"It's so good that I can't stop eating," he praised, wiping his mouth with a napkin to kiss you on the cheek, a compliment to the chef.

He drank his glass of water and paused eating, "so, the interview?" He picked up the conversation you had earlier.

"I just got the call a little before you came home," you said.

"And?" He leaned forward, eyebrows wrinkled in curiosity and anticipation.

"I got the job," you announced with a smile.

Chan smiled like he knew it was going to happen, that he was right, you did great like he predicted that morning.

You both stood outside on the balcony and listened to the neighbors playing Franck's Piano Quintet.

Chan held you from behind, putting his hand around your waist and the other hand trailed down your arm with his fingertips lightly rubbing your skin.

It was so nice to stay in a moment like this with you, encased in comforting, warm feelings like all the problems in his life are a world away. Just you and him in your iridescent little bubble, sharing touches and syncing your breathing, hearts beat as one.

He angled your head to meet his and didn't waste time capturing your lips in his.

"Are you going back to the studio?" You asked, knowing that he likes to keep himself busy in there.

He shook his head, "why would I want to be anywhere else but here?" He asked back with a smile.

He didn't want to be anywhere else but here, close to you with his hands touching your soft, warm skin for as much as he wants and have you the way he wanted.

On the bed with your legs spread open for him while he pushed his cock deep inside you and it mesmerizes him still how you take him well every single time.

"Always tight for me," he murmured.

You locked your legs around his waist while his hands reached for yours, holding them while he pounded into you, his eyes fixated on the way his cock slipped in and out of you.

"Chris..." you breathlessly called his name.

"I love how you call my name," he said between his groans, picking up the pace at how easily you riled him up just by calling his name.

When he cum, he slowly pulled out and heard you whimpering at the sudden emptiness. He rubbed your abdomen, waiting to see his cum leaking out of you and when it did, he sighed in satisfaction.

You sat up on the bed and saw his cock still firm despite just cumming inside you a moment ago.

You scooted closer and rubbed the tip of his cock slick with both of your bodily fluids, so softly with your fingertip.

"How are you still this hard?" You asked in pure curiosity.

"I could make love to you every night and it will never be enough," he boldly stated.

It's that easy for him to make your heart flip and aroused at the same time.

"There's no use for me to stop you, huh?"

You already knew the answer without needing him to say it and that was why he laughed, his tongue poked his cheek and he had no idea how attractive that looked on him.

You kissed him with your hand wrapped around his length, positioned yourself to let him enter you one more time, eased down on him with your eyes closed, and felt this cock stretch you again.

It seemed to take him by surprise that Chan wasn't prepared, he gripped your waist so hard you were sure he left crescent marks on your skin.

You put your hands around his neck and hastily kissed his open mouth, moving your hips in a circular motion to feel his whole length inside you.

"You feel so good inside me," your voice broke at the end of the sentence, feeling his cock engorged inside you.

He couldn't speak, his head was foggy with immense pleasure to process your words and respond to them.

"So good, Chris," you cooed, softly grinding back and forth on his lap.

And just like that, you made love to him or either he made love to you, every night was the same except that the pleasure doubled every time your bodies collided and your needs were fulfilled, ever-growing, insatiable.

His alarm clock rang at the crack of dawn, you jolted awake but he hurriedly turned it off and cuddled you back on the bed.

"It's my alarm, you go back to sleep," he whispered to you along with a kiss on your bare shoulder.

Sleep was easy when his touches worked wonders to put you at ease and his kisses were soothing and comforting.

You woke up a while later with him pacing around the bedroom, collecting his things, and putting his shirt on.

"You have an early schedule?" You mumbled while rubbing your eyes.

"A radio interview," he shortly replied.

He climbed onto the bed, brushed your hair away to caress your cheek with a tender look on his face, "I'll be back at dinner time,"

You nodded with a sleepy smile.

He went on to kiss you on your closed mouth because he knew you didn't like kissing in the morning without brushing your teeth.

He pecked your lips again before getting off the bed, slung his backpack on one shoulder then left.

You clutched the duvet to cover your bare chest and shifted on the bed, still drowsy and it was still too early to get ready for work.

"I forgot something," Chan walked back into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed to kiss you.

"I love you," he said and sneaked a quick peck on the lips.

"Good luck on your first day at work!" With a long lingering kiss this time.

You smiled even though you were running out of breath from the kiss, "I love you,"

"Have a good day at work!" You returned.

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, reluctantly letting it go before he left the bedroom again for real this time.

I don't think I can have dinner at home

It's alright, love

But I'll come home as soon as possible

See you at home

And he was glad that you were waiting for him at home this time for real.

He got home a little after midnight and saw you were sitting on the bed, painting your toenails with blue nail polish.

"Do you need help?" He asked, put his backpack on the desk, and took off his hooded sweater.

You outstretched your hands to hug him while sitting on the bed, "hey, baby," you properly greeted him.

He then sat next to you and pressed a kiss on the side of your face, "How's your first day at work?"

"Long," you shortly replied with a sigh.

You looked so adorable looking sullen like that he couldn't help but kiss your pouty lips.

"Let me do it for you," he offered, taking the small bottle of nail polish from you and lying on his stomach with his head looking over your feet.

"Even your toes are so cute!" Chan praised as he focused on the task at hand.

You watched as he carefully and intently painted your toenails one by one until they were all polished in cobalt blue color.

"How are we looking?" He asked.

You looked down at your feet, wriggling your toes, and smiled, "Well done!"

He looked at you with a grin, satisfied with his work. He then started blowing air on them, making you softly laugh at how it tickled you.

Chan looked over his shoulder and saw you with a questioning look on his face.

"My feet are sensitive," you informed.

That came as new information to him and one that would come in handy when it comes to giving you the right touch.

"You would love some foot rubs then," He proceeded without waiting for your answer and started giving you foot rubs, slipping his fingers in the spaces between your toes and gently massaging it, teasing your sole and making you giggle.

Chan got a little mischievous and planted a soft kiss on the bridge of your foot.

"What's that for?"

"I just wanted to kiss it," he answered, lifted your foot in his hand, and kissed your instep.

You knew he has something planned in his mind for you and you could only watch what he'll do next.

Chan made a long trail of kisses from your ankle to your inner thigh, not stopping even though his head was between your legs, forcing you to spread your legs open for him.

You put your hand in his hair and softly scratched his scalp, "Chris?"

He put a soft kiss on your inner thigh, "yes?"

"I have bad news for you," you said.

His head snapped at yours with eyes widened in slight shock, "what?"

"I'm on my period," you told him with a grimace.

He sighed with eyes closed, that was the last thing he worried about. There are so many things he can do to be intimate with you, it doesn't have to be always about sex. He can touch you, caress you, touch you, cuddle you, and at times, maybe that wouldn't be enough for him but as long as he's with you, it will always be more than enough.

He crawled over your body and hovered above you, pressing his full lips on yours.

"But I still can do this, right?"

You answered by returning the kiss, "have as much as you want."

-

A new home needs some adjustments and Chan is aware that he hasn't adjusted yet.

Sometimes he forgot that he shared a place with you, he was so used to living alone and living in his way. It resulted in a few conflicts, and disputes. The issues varied from financial issues to trivial things such as he forgot to take out the trash.

And this morning, he found you giving him the glare with your hands carrying the basket of laundered clothes.

"Let me guess," Chan grabbed his chin between his fingers, "I forgot to take out the laundry from the dryer again?" He asked with a grimace and a guilty expression on his face.

You nodded with a thin smile.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, taking the basket from you and carrying it to the bedroom.

"I told you, let me do the laundry for us," you said, taking a piece of clothing from the basket and folding it.

"I'm sure you're already tired from working," Chan said while also folding his clothes on his lap.

"And you don't?" You raised an eyebrow at him with a triumphant smile.

Chan knew you'd just won the argument.

He didn’t think of it when he asked you to move in with him, that you and he would have something to argue about but funny enough, Chan enjoyed it. When he got mischievous, he would bother you until you get so annoyed. 

And sometimes, you make each other mad and he would be the one who makes up with you first because he couldn't stay mad at you for long.

On bad days, the argument heated and things went all over the place, you would be the first one to leave or tell him to leave you alone to avoid saying things you don't mean to say to each other.

But at the end of the day, everything was solved with a deep talk and ended with a kiss.

On the other hand, you like seeing him mad. He looks so hot doing it and you wondered how is that possible.

He would get quiet, jaws all clenched which only accentuates the shapes, and his eyes giving you an intense stare, letting you know he was indeed not satisfied with something.

This was no time to be horny, you bit your lower lip to hold the urge to just throw yourself at him and instead, slowly came up to him.

He sat on the single sofa and played with his phone, you decided to sit on his lap and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Why are you so mad?" 

He didn't answer, his eyes stuck to his phone screen and made his face glow in bluish light.

"He's just a colleague from work, we had a few glasses of wine and he insisted on sharing a cab. That's all!" You explained the whole thing in a soft tone with a hand rubbed down his chest.

He still didn't answer but furiously typed into his phone.

He looked like a sulking little kid and it was adorable to you, you couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.

"Chris?" You called.

He didn't even turn his head at you.

"Baby?" You tried calling with a pet name and still failed.

"My love?" Again, with another pet name he usually called you with.

"Channie?" You rarely called him by that name but at that point, you were willing to try anything.

Chan finally turned his head at you and you held yourself from smiling out of triumphant, batted your eyelashes, and pouted at him instead.

"I'm sorry," you sincerely apologized, then buried your head in his neck.

You put your hands around his neck and hugged him, staying like that until he melted into your embrace, holding you back with a hand rubbing the small of your back.

You looked at him and muttered, "I love you,"

That seemed to dissolve his anger away and his eyes turned tender, "I love you," he said back.

You smiled because it always felt nice to hear it or have him say it back to you, there was nothing that came close to the happiness it brought to you.

You kissed him first and he returned the kiss with the same passion, hungrily even.

You broke the kiss to catch a breath.

"Why are you so jealous? You are hotter than him," you said.

You hastily kissed his lips for a second then brought your mouth close to his ear, "and oh, when you're mad like that," you softly groaned.

"So hot, I think I get a little wet," you intentionally turned your voice low and sultry.

Chan smirked at you with his tongue slightly poking out from the corner of his mouth, "only a little?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Why don't you check yourself?" You dared him.

And you shouldn't dare him in the first place, that earned you a few slaps on your inner thighs as he fucked you relentlessly with your legs wide open for him.

Chan is not the type to hold grudges but when he was given the control, time, and space for it, he will do it.

Your hands locked in his death grip as he pinned them by the wrists on your abdomen.

He thrust into you so hard it reverberated throughout your body and your head hit the headboard each time he rammed himself into you.

"Isn't this what you want, mmh?"

You were a moaning mess and tears squeezed out of your screwed-shut eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. You were unable to respond to any of his words but kept whimpering in a mix of pleasure and pain under him.

Even when you were cumming, Chan didn't slow down but kept thrusting into you and a loud moan ripped out of you.

He placed his mouth on yours to muffle the noises you made and gently bit on your lower lip, making you yelp in pain.

It was the first time that he gets so rough with you but still was a gentleman about it after.

He endearingly caressed you and touched you with so much love, kissing your face as he repeatedly asked, "are you okay?"

He wiped the tears from your eyes with his knuckle, "are you hurt?"

You shook your head, "I'm alright."

He kissed your lips and your cheek after, "still like it when I'm mad?"

You nodded.

He chuckled and pulled you close, wrapping his hands around you, and planting small kisses that made your heart flutter.

"I'm sorry," you apologized to him.

He smiled at you, "it's just me. I hate seeing you with someone else."

"I told you, you're the most beautiful for me," you assured him.

"Yeah?"

You eagerly nodded.

"And you're the most beautiful to me," he said back as he looked deeply into your eyes.

And you like the way he looks at you like you're his most prized possession like you're the only one existing in his world, like you're wholly, truly his.

It was wrong to think that the makeup sex was the only best part of it.

-

Chan likes how you invaded his life.

Your warm smile replaced the void that usually welcomes him home, your laugh filled the quiet in the room, your scent clung to the bedsheets, and your body became his comfort pillow.

He couldn't look around his place without seeing a trace of you, instead of feeling like he doesn't belong there, he feels quite the opposite.

He feels at home and he believes that's because you're in it.

It was very unusual of him to come home early that day and it was even rare of him for wanting to cook, he planned on greeting you home from work with dinner.

He heard you unlocking the door and he waited for you to notice him standing by the threshold with his arms open.

The surprised look on your face tells it all, you were happy to see him that you immediately crashed yourself at him.

"You're home early!" You exclaimed as you threw your hands around him.

He lifted you off the ground and hugged you tight, "I'm cooking dinner," he told you.

"Really?"

"What's with the surprised tone?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Nothing," you answered with a sly smile.

He let the conversation slide and kissed you, a long kiss that makes up for the hours of not seeing you. You let him as you always do, letting him deepen the kiss and have as much taste of you as he wants.

You gasped when he broke the kiss, "go get changed," he said.

He gently squeezed your waist, "I'll prepare dinner."

You nodded and obeyed his words without complaint, went to the bedroom while Chan made his way back to the kitchen.

He stirred the soup he was simmering on the stove and added a few seasonings to perfect its flavor.

What you said to him earlier got into his head that he started to doubt his cooking.

"Babe, can you come here and taste it for me?" He shouted as he kept stirring the bubbling soup.

"Just a minute!" You shouted back from the bedroom.

"It only takes a second," he said back to urge you to come to the kitchen.

"Coming!"

You came behind him and he scooped a spoonful of the broth, he blew on it first before feeding it to you.

"A little bit more pepper will do," you suggested.

Chan sprinkled some into the pot and stirred it, having another taste test with you.

"Good?"

"Perfect!" You replied.

He triumphantly smiled and held your face to kiss your lips, he was expecting to feel any sort of clothing on you but instead of that, his palm met the warmth of your skin.

That was when he realized you came to the kitchen half-naked.

"What are you doing?"

You were covering your breasts with your hand but then you didn't feel the need to since he has seen everything. Also, you didn't want to miss a chance to tease him.

"I was barely dressed when you called me here," you explained.

He gave you the unsatisfied look on his face but it could be two things, mad or aroused, you couldn't tell which but he looks so hot nonetheless.

You took a step back to give him a better view of your body only dressed in white shorts.

"Also, you're not the only one who can walk around the house topless, you know," you said with a playful grin and kept walking backward in the direction of your bedroom.

It's something unexpected like this that keeps things exciting in your relationship and your body will always be enticing to him.

He rested one hand against the kitchen counter and tipped his head to the side, "Oh, is that so?"

You nodded and said, "I can do what I want with my body."

You teased him more by cupping your breasts in your hands.

"They're mine!" He said in the most possessive way.

You shook your head, "no, sir. These are not your property!"

He pointed his spatula at you with a deadly glare on, "pull your pants down!"

"No!" You refused while lingering in the doorway of your bedroom.

"I said pull your pants down!" He ordered once again, louder.

"No!" You answered with a daring smirk and ran into the bedroom without closing the door.

Chan turned off the stove and ran after you, chasing you into the bedroom while you squealed in fear and excitement.

"PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN!!!"

"NO!!!”

-

However, these unexpected things can also come unpleasantly.

Just like that day when you urged him to come home, he could hear that you were in distress and needed him. He couldn't just drop everything and go, but he tried to make it work, put everything on hold and he'll be back to it after.

You were looking rather anxious as you rushed toward him the second he stepped into the apartment.

"Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He asked while rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head.

He sat you down on the sofa and held your hand, you looked wan and shaken, and your eyes usually filled with glints looked empty that night.

He squeezed your hand to let you know that you weren't alone, "I'm here, my love, it's okay," he assured you with a hand cupping your jaw.

You weakly smiled and held his hand back, "I don't know how to explain this but I'm a week late to my period," you began.

Chan already knew where this headed but it would be wise that you and him to be on the same page about this.

"Have you taken a test?" He asked.

"I'm afraid to do it alone," you sounded so small when you spoke.

He could feel that you were severely anxious and he understood why you needed him. He wrapped his arms around you, taking you into his embrace to offer you the comfort and safety that you needed.

"I'm here and I'll always be here for you. I'll take responsibility for whatever going to come," he murmured to the top of your head.

"I love you," he kissed you on the forehead.

He waited by sitting on the bed as you took the pregnancy test in the bathroom, he got nervous as well. He tried not to think further ahead, he wanted to focus on being present for you.

A few minutes later, you got out of the bathroom and he got up to walk up to you. You hugged him and rested your head against his chest.

"I was so scared," you mumbled with a long sigh of relief.

Chan took it that the result is negative, and he felt a little sad about it then again, he can't be selfish about this.

"I know, baby," he said and kissed the side of your face.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, "I'm not ready yet, Chris," your voice broke at the end of the sentence.

He tightened the hold around you and stayed like that for a long time, just holding you with so much love.

"I feel bad because I know you want this," you spoke into his chest, right to his heart.

"No, no, no..." he whispered to you, "you give me more than what I asked of you."

He then held your face with both hands and tenderly kissed your lips, "and I know I'm irresistible but I think we should be careful from now on," he said with a playful smile.

You softly chuckled and kissed him back, "okay."

Chan took it as his job to always remind you on taking your birth control every day. He would send a text at one point in the day to make sure you did.

"Did you take your birth control today, babe?"

"Take your pill today, beautiful!"

"Don't forget to take your pill, my star shine."

Along with other questions on whether you have taken your meals or not. He knows he has to take part in it too by resisting a little whenever the urge came up.

It was easy to say but seeing your body and not touching it was a different thing.

Especially when he came home after a long day and saw you still awake in bed, looking so effortlessly beautiful barefaced with his t-shirt on while sitting against the headboard.

A piece of classical music was playing from your phone and that was why you didn't hear him coming into the room.

"Hey, beautiful girl," he greeted as he put his backpack down on the table.

You glanced up from your book to find him standing at the end of the bed, "hey, my beautiful boyfriend!"

You immediately put your book away as he got on the bed and crawled to you, "let me guess... Chopin?"

"Nope," You put your hands around his neck.

"It's Valse Sentimentale by Tchaikovsky."

Chan leaned in close and grazed the tip of your nose with his, "did you just speak French?"

"Yes, I did."

"Hot!" He murmured and kissed your lips.

It was one of those nights he feels needy for you, he wanted to selfishly make love and be one with you. He kissed you so hard to let you know how much he wanted this.

"Did you take your birth control today?" He asked when he let go of the kiss.

"Yes," you answered.

"Good girl!" He praised you and placed his plump lips on your neck.

He dragged his mouth close to your ear next then softly whispered, "I want to cum inside you tonight."

You turned your head to look at him and he believed you already sensed how much he needed this but first, he needed to know if you consented to this.

"Okay," you said with a smile.

He gave you a long peck on the lips, "I'll go shower first," he said.

When he returned to the bedroom, the lights were dimmed and soft music playing from the portable speaker.

The sight of you bending over the bedside table to light a scented candle welcomed him.

You already changed into a revealing night dress that he could see your naked body through the flimsy fabric and it was safe to say you weren't wearing anything underneath.

The towel hanging low around his hips wasn't enough to cover his hardening cock.

You turned around to find him ogling over you and you walked up to him, trailing his glistening wet body with your hand.

You didn't hesitate to place your mouth on his neck and tasted his freshly showered body, "mmh..." you delightfully hummed.

"You smell so good," you spoke so low it was almost like a whisper.

Your hands slid down his sides until you met his towel, "we don't need this," you said, proceeding to take it off of him.

It has always been him who takes control but that night he wanted you to have control, he wanted to be taken care of by you.

He obeyed when you told him to get on the bed and lay face down, he didn't ask any questions when you lather your hands with fragrant oil and started to massage him.

"You're so tense," you said as you knead on the tensed part of his back.

Chan couldn't say much when you gave him just what he needed.

"Turn over, love," you sweetly ordered.

He complied and lay on his back, seeing you smiling at him as he rested his head on the pillow.

"That was so good," he commented and pulled you by your neck to kiss you.

You smiled against his lips as your hand started to roam around, feeling his taut muscles under your fingertips. You placed a hand on his chest to stop him from getting on top of you.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you muttered.

How could he say no when that was what he wanted and you were giving it to him with a soft smile on your face?

You began by kissing him then made a long trail of kisses from his face down to his chest, stopping by to give a soft lick on each nipple.

The hair brushed his body as you continued your trail of kisses down his body tickling him and at the same time, inexplicably arousing him.

When your hand finally met his swollen cock, he let out a low gasp from his parted mouth. He closed his eyes to feel your soft hands pumping his length, doing it so carefully to give him the utmost pleasure.

You gathered all of your hair to one side of your shoulder and kneeled next to him as you took him into your mouth, little by little.

You paused a few times to catch your breath and kept doing it until you took all of him inside you.

The night dress you were wearing rode up as you bent down over his crotch, exposing your sex to him.

He used the opportunity to knead on your ass cheeks and eventually, teased on your wet core with his fingers.

He could feel the noise you made, vibrating against his cock and it drove him to the edge.

After a moment, you let go of him with a loud popping sound. You lifted the hem of your night dress as you positioned yourself on top of him, kept holding the dress lifted with one hand while the other aligned his cock to your entrance.

He watched as your face reacted to his cock slowly entering you as you kept easing yourself down on him, you took him well every time.

You let out a low giggle once you took all of him, "so good, so good inside me," you murmured with your eyes closed.

Knowing that you enjoy pleasing him only aroused him more that he wanted to pin you on the bed and fuck you all night. But that wasn't the plan that night, he would let you please him your way.

You rested both of your hands on his chest and looked into his eyes, "Ain't I a good girl? I take you well every single time," you lowly said.

He brushed your hair to the side and held it there, "such a good girl for me," he praised.

You smiled in pride and started to roll your hips in circular motions as low moans escaped your slightly parted mouth.

You set a steady pace as you moved back and forth against him while Chan was drowning in the pleasure you brought him.

The thin strap of your night dress slid down your arm, sending your breast spilling out of it. You shot a look at him and asked, "want to take care of it?"

He was more than willing to do it for you. He got up while you settled yourself on his lap without pulling out.

Chan licked his lips before taking your breast in his mouth, sucking on the flesh. You suppressed your painful yelps as his teeth nibbled on your nipples and did the same with your other breast.

He got impatient and took the nightdress off of you in a blink of an eye and he didn't wait to bury his head in between your breasts as you kept moving on him.

You slipped your hand into his soft curls and held him close, "Chris..." you softly called his name.

He looked up at you with his head still between your mounds.

"Someday you'll breed me, yeah?"

He sank his mouth on your neck as you kept talking to him, "I believe it would easy for you, mmh?"

That, he believed is true, getting you pregnant would be a pleasure to him therefore it would be an easy task for him.

He hastily kissed you on the lips and filled his hand with your breast, "I want to see these full of milk," he said against your lips.

His hand moved to your stomach and rubbed it endearingly, "I want to see you with a baby bump," he added.

You seemed to like the ideas too from the way you clenched around him. He knew you wanted this too but you need more time for that.

You briefly kissed his lips, "someday, baby, someday," you promised him.

Someday might be a few months later or takes years, however, he liked the sound of that. Someday sounded possible, full of hope.

You looped your hands around his neck and picked up the pace, "for now, fill me up," you told him.

"Fill me up with your seed!"

Your eyes fiercely stared into his black orbs as he stared back at you with eyes heavy with lust, "will you do that for me?"

"Yeah, yeah," he repeatedly answered with ragged breathing.

"Will you cum for me?"

"Yes."

You pressed a hard kiss on his lips, "you're close, mmh?"

"So close," he shortly replied.

You kept moving at a steady pace, sending him to the edge where he could plunge into the high that would take him soaring to cloud nine.

The words you kept muttering to him gave him the push he needed.

"Cum for me, baby!"

"Chris, oh!"

"Fill me! Cum inside me!"

An ecstasy-like feeling surged through his body as he reached his high, he pushed his cock further into you to plant his seed deep inside you.

He continuously grunted as you cooed at him, "yeah, baby, I can feel it inside me."

Chan kept grunting while you started to hold him and slowly took him down from his high by kissing him, placing touches on his body to keep him in intimacy.

"Look at you, letting me take care of you," you cooed with a sweet smile as if you didn't just fuck him real good.

He couldn't contain his feelings in a moment like this he felt like he could move a mountain for you if you asked him to, "I love you so much, you know that?"

You kissed the palm cupping your jaw, "I know, Chris."

He held you tight and stayed like that for as long as he could, bonding through touches and bodies becoming one with you.

He turned over to lay you down on the bed to let you rest and slowly, he pulled out of you. Some of his white seed leaked out of you and kept dripping, seeping into the bedsheets.

"You came so much," you said with a sly smile.

He would be lying if this didn't get his cock hardening despite he just cummed a few minutes ago.

"Maybe you should refill it," you said as if his mind was see-through and you saw that he was thinking it.

Most of the time, unexpected things came as temptations he can't resist.

-

How do you even begin to describe what Chan means to you?

He's your home and you like living under his roof, one that protects you from the blazing sun and keeps you warm on winter days.

As time passed, a home went through so many things, storms, rains, and summer heat. Then a house would need a few fixings and you fixed what you could.

In the home you built together, you started to see a crack in the foundation, a small one that you could only see through a magnifying glass, small but it bothers you so much.

With a little understanding, you got it that not all of us can be perfect human beings. We all have flaws that we try to hide, so you put a rug to cover the crack so no one couldn't see it.

"You came home late lately," you hated to sound so demanding to him but he had been absent from most of your days that you started to feel things aren't right anymore.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy," he came with the same answer to every question you asked him: Why he's late to your anniversary dinner? Why he forgot to buy you the cheese you need for the pasta you cook? Why did he keep forgetting to do the favor you asked him? Why why why?

Way before you decided to start this relationship and moved in with him, you knew that he would always be busy with his work. You understood and accepted it, but what you didn't know is that he would keep everything to himself.

His kisses are lovely, his hugs are warm, his touches comfort you, he cares for you, he worries you, and he lays next to you every night yet he wouldn't share what keeps him up all night.

"Why are you still awake?" You asked, placing your head on his chest.

"I have a lot on my mind right now," he replied with his hand brushing your hair.

"Want to share with me?" You knew you can't force him to talk if he didn't want to.

"It's something you shouldn't worry about," he said.

You tried to be an understanding partner to him so you didn't push him further and thought that you've tried your best, you did enough by it.

"I'll be the big spoon tonight," you said.

"Huh?"

You turned his body to the side and put your arms and legs around him, spooning him from behind.

"You're so big, baby," you groaned as you struggled to wrap him in your arms, "I can't hold you."

Chan chuckled in response and helped you to put your hands on his chest instead, then he put his hand on top.

"This is nice," he softly hummed as his body relaxed against you.

You nuzzled your nose into his hair and drank his scent, "my big baby," you cooed.

He turned his head to capture your lips in a kiss, "I love you," he sweetly murmured against your lips and his love confession still sounded as sweet.

Somehow, even if you have covered the crack with the prettiest rug, it bothered you still.

-

Chopin's Prelude in E Minor was playing from the neighbor's balcony. Which is a very fitting piano piece that sounded just as hopeless as you were. The end of the piece is particularly sad as the melody seems to just fade away into nothingness.

Chan came home late again that night.

You heard his footsteps outside the bedroom, probably having a drink in the living room like he always does lately. You got up from bed and decided to come to join him, who knows that he might like the company?

"Channie is home!" You surprised him with a smile.

He smiled seeing you, holding out his hand for you to take, and sat you on his lap, "why are you still up?"

You curled up on his lap, resting your head on the crook of his neck, "come to bed," you mumbled.

He rubbed your bare back with his knuckle and glided his hand down to the curve of your ass, gently squeezing the flesh there.

"Chris..." Your voice echoed as you called his name.

"Yes?"

You put your chin on his shoulder to look at him, "you know you can tell me anything," you assured him that you are more than eager to listen to whatever he wants to share with you.

He let out a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling, resting his head against the headrest of the sofa, "I'm just tired..."

You looked at him and he looked rather exhausted, you didn't want to pick a fight when he was like this but unfortunately, you got to the point that you couldn't let this go on anymore.

You got off his lap and sat next to him, "What's going on with us?"

The question seemed to wake him up and he sat up straighter to face you, "I know I haven't been here much and I'm sorry, it's just me," he apologized but was overly vague about the reasons why.

"What is it?"

"It's just..." he deeply sighed again and let out a long breath, "I'm just so tired with work and everything."

Again, it was very vague and didn't answer your question.

"Is there anything else, though?" You tried again, speaking calmly to him to not make him feel pressured.

"No, just that," he shortly replied.

Your heart sank, you were disappointed with the answer he gave you and all these things you kept to yourself started to burst out of you.

"I don't understand why you're doing this. I don't understand what this is ab—" you stopped yourself from talking.

A lump was forming in your throat and it grew bigger as you thought of ways to tell him how you've been feeling about all this.

He got defensive all of a sudden so he grabbed your hand and made you turn to look at him, "what are you saying?"

"I'm starting to think that I'm crazy..." you kept swallowing the tears rising inside you.

"You're saying everything is fine but all I'm getting from you is distance and anger," you got choked on your words and took a deep breath to calm yourself.

"I'm not—" Chan pinched the bridge of his nose, he was probably trying to not snap right then and there.

"Where is this coming from?"

You looked at him even though you knew he could see your glossy eyes, "you keep me guessing everything so I started overthinking things and doubting myself..."

Tears rolled down your cheeks, "you make me turn into someone that I'm not."

He held both of your hands on your lap so tight his knuckles turned white, "I never asked you to be anything—"

You hated how he made you a very demanding person that asks anything from him when all you wanted is to be someone he can rely on. You tried so hard to provide a safe space for him but it seemed like it was never enough for him.

You let go of his hands and got up from the sofa, "I don't want to talk," you said, ending the conversation early before any of you said things you don't mean to.

It came as surprise to him as well that he stayed quiet and stunned by what just happened. You didn't wait for him to stop you, you got in bed and started crying.

Frustrated over how things turned out, it was alright a few minutes ago but it was the calm before the storm.

You could only wait and see if the house still stands strong in the morning.

-

The house survived.

But the crack in the foundation grew bigger and the rug could only cover as much.

You were packing things when Chan came home, you didn't know for what because it was past dinner time and he didn't say he will come home early.

You haven't talked since last night but he kissed you before he left this morning.

You turned around to see him walking into the bedroom and he saw the suitcase, "are you leaving?"

It was heartbreaking to hear that, he thought you'll be leaving because of the argument you had.

"The director wants me to bid for a painting," you quickly explained before he got the wrong idea.

He sat at the end of the bed, "For how long?" 

"3 days," you replied.

"When will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

There was a silent hang in the air after and it was suffocating, how the two of you have so much to say but at the same time, none of you wanted to risk the relationship.

"Want to talk about last night?" He asked.

But you weren't ready for that, you weren't sure how you feel about it yet but ultimately, you wanted to talk about it when you're prepared with whatever you get at the end of it. Good or bad, you weren't ready for it.

You sat next to him on the bed but avoided looking at him, you stared at your feet instead, "I don't like who I am right now," you told him.

"I need time to think," you added.

Chan nodded in agreement, that it was best for the two of you to take time for yourself to think things through and the work trip just happened to come at the right time.

"Let's do that, yeah," he said with a defeated sigh.

When it was time to go, you dragged your suitcase in the direction of the door and Chan followed you from behind.

He looked miserable in a way that reminded you of that day when you left him to go back to your home country.

It was painful but it was the right thing to do, you both needed the space to grow, reflect on yourselves and find a way to overcome this.

He went to hug you and you hugged him back, exchanging the warmth that you both need in a time like this.

He went to kiss you after with both hands holding your face as if you were a fragile object.

"I love you," he muttered as if he put the essence of him in it and gave it to you to keep.

"Come back safely," he said as he let go of the hug but kept holding your hand in his.

And when you left, you took a piece of him with you and he hoped for you to return it because a home is not a home if no soul is living in it.

-

It was the distance that separated you once and it happened again for the second time.

But this time, he got separated by the distance he created himself.

Firstly, he didn't mean to do that to you. He was used to keeping things to himself and he wasn't aware that what he did drives you further away.

He understood why you felt that way, if only he told you everything, you wouldn't keep guessing what he keep inside him.

Secondly, he didn't want to burden you with this. He's willing to go through the pain for both of you.

When he thought about it again, he knew it was wrong to keep you in the dark and made you keep guessing your way in. He was wrong to do that when all you've been doing was being open to him, you even let yourself be vulnerable around him because you trust him, trust that he would never hurt you.

Trust is hard to earn yet you gave it to him anyway, and he didn't do the same to you.

That was the part he did wrong. He had been taking you for granted.

And these past two days without you only bringing back those excruciating days of being so far away from you.

The empty bed, the quiet space, the stillness that lingered in his apartment felt like a void without you.

He longed for you.

Even when he was home, he felt homesick because his true home is you.

He went home knowing that you'd be already home and probably asleep in the room, tired from the trip.

When he sat on the bed next to your sleeping figure, God... He was beyond grateful that you came back to him.

He touched you there to feel your heart beating under his palm and accidentally woke you up.

You sleepily smiled at the sight of him.

"You're home," you croaked.

"I am home," he answered without a beat.

He caressed your face and looked at your face, pouring all of his admiration through his tender gaze.

He didn't want to hide from you anymore, he wanted you to have all of him, wholly and completely.

"Can we talk?"

You rubbed his forearm, "okay."

Chan brought you a glass of water while you waited on the sofa, he insisted on doing it for you when you could do it yourself.

"Thank you," you muttered and took a little sip of water.

Chan didn't sit next to you but kneeled in front of you and took both of your hands with his head tilted up to look at you.

"I am so sorry," he began.

He rubbed your fingers as he spoke, "I didn't know what I did would hurt you this much."

He licked his lips to continue talking, "I do that. I'd be upset about something and not be able to say it. When someone senses there's something wrong, I'd deny it."

He sighed in regret, "it's a bad habit of mine."

You looked into his eyes and turned his hands on your lap, letting you hold them for him.

"I don't want to do that anymore," he stated and it's a decision he must take to save the relationship.

"And I want to tell you everything."

He needs to start to learn to share his burden because a relationship goes both ways.

You smiled at him and opened your mouth to speak, "these past few nights that I spent by myself made me think a lot."

You interlaced your fingers with his and continued speaking, "how you've been treating me and I thought... why do I love you?"

Chan felt breathless as if someone emptied the air in his lungs, anticipating what you'll say to him next.

"There are no logical reasons for that question because I don't need one."

You took a breath and cupped his face in your hand, "but I trust myself. I trust my feelings. That my love for you is real."

Chan finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, knowing that you still love him means a lot to him.

But still, he needed to hear the rest from you.

"I'm not going to try to be anything other than who I am anymore and I hope you can accept that."

"I can. I will," he repeatedly nodded to convince you.

He brought your hand close to his mouth and placed a long kiss on the back of your hand.

"You know, I can feel the fear that you carry around and I wish there was something I could do to help you let go of it," you said with your hand going in his hair and softly scratching the back of his head.

He shifted his attention back at you, eyes never straying away from yours even just for one second.

"Because if you could, I don't think you'd feel so alone anymore," you finished with a soft smile.

Your hand went in his hair and softly scratched the back of his head.

The moment that being said, Chan felt like he was the luckiest man in the world to have you. You are so many things to him and he's glad to find that in someone, in you.

"Gosh, you're beautiful!" He muttered heartfelt praise at you.

"Thank you," you muttered back in gratitude and a sweet smile.

"Can I kiss you now?" His eyes filled with hopeful glints.

You chuckled at him and gave his hair a ruffle, "since when did you ask for permission first?"

You held his face in your hands and softly landed your lips on his, giving him the kiss that he badly craved.

A kiss that rejuvenated his soul and gave him a will to go on, a kiss that sets everything back to square one and starts anew.

You both smiled at each other as the kiss ended.

Chan then rested his head on your lap and let you play with his hair, tangling his soft curls around your fingers.

"Can I be the little spoon tonight?" He asked.

"Absolutely!"

He grinned like a little kid and without warning scooped you up from the sofa, carrying you to the bedroom.

You giggled into his neck as he sneaked a kiss on your temple.

"You're too big," you groaned as Chan pulled your arms and wrapped them around him, struggling to make your hands meet. He took your leg next and put it over his waist, he wanted to be cocooned in your warmth.

"This is perfect!" He sighed the moment he successfully put your hand on his chest and put his hand on top.

His other hand went to caress your thigh and doing it so tenderly as if he was caressing a sleeping kitten.

"This isn't Chris," You playfully remarked with your head resting so close to his.

Chan was enjoying the comfort of your cuddle to provide a verbal answer, he responded with a hum and little noises.

"This is Channie," you added.

"Mmh," he cutely responded with a tiny nod.

You lowly chuckled into his ear, "Baby Channie!"

If he heard that from someone else, he wouldn't fancy it as much when it was you who called him by it. He turned his head to look at you and kissed you.

"My big baby," you cooed at him with a quick peck on the lips.

It felt good to be in someone's embrace and not think that he was weak for doing that.

All this time, he always thought that he needs to be the one in control and be the one who takes responsibility for everything, be the bigger person, strong, brave.

As he stayed there feeling small in your embrace, he knew for certain that you were stronger, braver, and bigger than he thought. You had been through so much in this relationship yet you were still here for him.

This home that you built together is only as strong as your relationship and the two of you make great, sturdy pillars.

-

The sun was out but that wasn't the only thing that woke you up.

Chan's fingertips trailed down your spine and you gasped as you felt his warm lips on the nape of your neck. He noticed that you were awake, proceeded to kiss your cheek, and brought his mouth close to whisper in your ear, "Is it too late to have the makeup sex now?"

You silently smiled and squinted through your eyes to see the time, you have to go to work in under two hours. You calculated it in your head if you have time for what he wants.

"No," you answered and spun your head to meet his gaze.

"But I don't think we have enough time for that," you added with a pout.

His hand got ahead of the conversation and started to cup your sex, "we'll make it alright," he assured you.

"You think so?" You slurred.

He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, "mmh."

Chan was undeniably gorgeous with the pale sunlight shining down on him, making his sculpted abs appear more defined and his pale skin glowed.

Not to mention, he was thrusting into you slowly and each thrust went deeper than the previous.

It was never just sex with him when he put all of him whenever he did it. He didn't need to say anything, his body tells it all.

His hand firmly holding you yet he tenderly touched you in the right places. His intense stare told how much he desired you yet his eyes filled with admiration for you. His passionate and deep kisses told how much he wanted you yet his lips never ran out of sweet praises to mutter to you. His strong body held you without feeling like he was holding you back.

As he was making love to you, he made you feel like you're the only one he's giving all of his body and soul to.

When he cum inside you, he did it as a way to claim you.

"Take all of me," he murmured.

He hastily kissed you while he pushed his cock further inside you as he was still cumming, "take all of me, baby," he repeated.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and kept him close all the while you were feeling his cock twitching, engorging inside of you.

"You're mine," he breathlessly said against your lips.

"I'm yours," you said back.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Chan didn't let you go because what's more important to him is not the sex but the cuddles after. This is what took most of the time you had left to get ready for work.

"Stay," he said as he pressed a kiss on your lips with his arms caged you in between.

"I can provide for us," he casually said.

You smiled against his lips and gently pushed him away, "why don't you stay?" You aimed the question back at him.

Your hands cupped his face, "I can also provide for us," you added with a sly smirk.

Chan got quiet for a moment and nodded in acknowledgment, "okay, that's fair," he said in defeat.

When you returned from the bathroom still in your bathrobe with your hair already styled and your make-up done, you found Chan already picked your outfit for you.

He spread it on top of the bed, shirt, skirt even the matching underwear he wanted you to wear that day.

"Breakfast will be ready in a minute!" He announced as he saw you come to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You went to give him a quick back hug but that wasn't enough for him, he turned around to give you a proper hug and a kiss.

A hand slipped under your skirt to knead on the ample flesh of your ass, "have you taken your pill?"

You nodded, "last night."

He kissed your cheek, "good because I want to cum inside you again tonight," he said.

You burst out laughing and exclaimed, "Chris!"

"What?"

"The day has just started," you stated an obvious fact and that you just had sex barely an hour ago. You couldn't lie though, the way he shamelessly and openly let you know how much he wanted you made you tingling inside.

He slyly grinned at your words, "I picked that underwear for you so I can take it off of you later," he said.

The fresh coat of lipstick you applied after breakfast went to waste because Chan wouldn't stop kissing you.

"We'll be late," you reminded him yet didn't stop him from placing another kiss.

"Just one more," he pleaded and gave you a long, lingering kiss that takes your breath away.

You didn't need to check yourself in the mirror to know that the lipstick faded on your lips. You quickly wiped it off of him, not letting him out of the door with your lipstick smeared all over his lips.

You both walk hand-in-hand to the elevator and waited for it to arrive.

"I'll be home for dinner tonight," he said to you at the same time the elevator chimed open.

"I'll order dinner," you said.

"Sounds great!"

He tightened his hold on your hand when someone else got into the elevator and pulled you to be as close as possible to him.

"Keep your eyes on me," he whispered to you.

You chuckled at his silly warning and decided to prove your loyalty to him by scooting closer to his side and then linking your arm with him.

You watched as his grin grew wider on his face like a kid who got his candy.

-

This is Chan's least favorite part of the day.

After the elevator arrived in the lobby, you had to part ways because you'll be taking a taxi to work while Chan headed to the gym nearby by walking.

It was like the hours he spent with you weren't enough for him and will never be. He wanted to stick with you all day if he could.

Wasn't it clear that he was so in love with you?

He got so weary every time he has to let you out to the world, knowing what it can do to a beautiful thing like you.

He grabbed your hand to stop and softly kissed you on the cheek, "be careful!"

"I will," you replied with a smile.

But of course, you could easily sense his worry but knows how to put him at ease, "I'll call you when I get there."

Trust. He trusts you, therefore he has nothing to be worried about. Slowly, he let go of your hand and set you free but kept you closer to his heart.

"I'll see you at home," you said with one final kiss on his lips even though you are the one who made a home for him.

Chan smiled for he was thankful for you and the stars that aligned his path with yours, destined him to meet you in this lifetime.

"I'll see you at home!" He muttered back as he knew he couldn't find a place like this again: a home in a person.

As he watched you leave and walked further away from him, Chan felt homesick already.

-

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[gabessquishytum]

Okay thoughts!

Virgin Hob (unlikely I know) and experienced fuck boi Dream.

Dream has a reputation for having very dramatic and steamy relationships that are over in like a weekend. Dream just falls in and out of love very fast.

His Saturday night is falling into bed with a stranger and dumping them by Sunday night basically.

So when he sees Hob, and likes what he sees, he just makes a beeline for him.

Hob is the opposite. Hob has only really ever had a high school sweetheart, Eleanor, who died tragically and Hob is starting to feel left behind. Also he recently had a bi awakening. So here he is at a bar, trying to lose his virginity finally. When the most beautiful man he’s ever seen starts talking to him, he just lights up under the attention. Hob also is an over sharer who promptly tells Dream why he’s there. And Dream just can’t believe that not only is this cute, sweet guy single, he’s also a virgin??

Dream buys Hob a drink and slides up really close to him in the booth and starts whispering in his ear everything he wants to show him and all the things he could teach him. He starts drawing little patterns on his jeans. Hob is smitten. Like instantly.

Later, Dream walks him home, fully intending to rock Hob’s world, and Hob happily kisses him on the doorstep and thanks him for a great date! And goes inside. And Dream stands there like … that’s it?

Fine. Fine! Once Dream has someone in his head he can’t rest until they’re in his bed. So fine. He’ll just have to try again tomorrow.

Suddenly Dream is sweeping back up to take Hob out to nice dinners and movies and walks in the park, and pulling out all the stops. It’s three whole agonizing weeks of wooing and dirty texts before Hob finally invites Dream home and Dream kisses him and gives him his first blowjob against the wall. But he takes him to bed for his first time.

Dream spends the weekend blowing Hob’s back out all over his flat, catching him up on years of sex. They order food in because the one time they tried to cook, Dream ended up fucking him on the counter while their Mac and cheese burned.

And Dream wakes up on Sunday expecting to feel nothing for him, not now that he’s had him.

Except he takes one look at Hob sleeping, his hair tousled, love marks on his neck, and thighs…and Dream doesn’t want to go.

When Hob opens his eyes and smiles at him, Dream smiles back, but he controls himself, thanks Hob for the great time and goes. He never promised him anything else. He was clear that he doesn’t do relationships.

Hob’s smile is a little heartbroken but he waves it off. He knew, of course, going in that Dream wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. So he holds it together while Dream showers and lets himself out.

Hob spends the next weekend in bed nursing a broken heart before he finally goes back out.

And Dream is fine with this. Totally fine. Until he sees Hob talking to some other guy at a bar and a wave of jealousy nearly takes him out at the knees.

Okay, maybe he’s really in love this time.

I must say that I really do like the idea of fuckboy Dream being tamed by Hob. Hob has high standards, as he should! And he's got a very specific idea of how he wants his first time to go. Admittedly he's a little bit nervous and the idea of jumping into bed with someone after only knowing them for an hour kind of scares him. But it's mostly that he wants to lose his virginity to someone who's worth his time. After 3 weeks of cute dates and teasing, he's absolutely sure that Dream is the perfect candidate. Hob is even hoping that maybe this could turn into a long term relationship!

And there's no problem about them being compatible in bed. Dream definitely does know what he's doing and he doesn't hold back. He's not used to being denied for so long and he's got so much sexual energy built up that Hob hardly knows what just hit him! It's amazing, though. He learns the parts of his body that feel best when touched and kissed, and he learns the same about Dream. Despite Dream saying that this is just a one time thing, it really does feel like making love when Hob has his thighs hooked over Dream’s shoulders and they're looking into each other's eyes.

It kind of sucks when Dream leaves. Hob was really hoping that he'd change his mind, but he can see that it's pure stubbornness making Dream ask like that. It really hurts, anyway, so Hob lets himself feel it. He doesn't regret his choice, but the memories of that wonderful weekend are always going to be tainted by a broken heart.

But! Hob is an optimistic person! So he gets back on the proverbial horse, and decides to maybe try a few hookups. Now he's less nervous about sex, maybe it's time try some new experiences. He meets a nice man (blond, buff and gorgeous) at the bar and has fun flirting with him - until he feels a hand coming down on his shoulder.

It's Dream. Of course. Looking physically pained and full of regrets.

"You shouldn't go home with him." He says. "You should come home with me. And... and I'll make breakfast tomorrow."

In all the weeks of dates and time together, Hob had never been over to Dream’s place. Nor had Dream ever cooked for him. He raises an eyebrow.

"And how do I know you won't change your mind and kick me out after breakfast?" He asks. Dream squirms and blushes.

"Because... its been a week, and I still love you. And as ridiculous as that sounds, it is the truth. I don't think I'm doing to change my mind about you ever."

And of course, Hob can't resist such a stupid, beautiful man. And they stay together forever <3

[heich0e]

the wake - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 8 in the bff!osamu series word count: 2.5k tags: angst, childhood friends to pining, every miya fic i write is just a thinly veiled love letter to the miya brotherhood and that is very clear here, angst gets worse before it gets better so be nice to me, ps: u ever heard the song vienna by billy joel?

The longest that you have ever gone without speaking to the Miya twins was thirteen calendar days—a single day shy of a fortnight—when the three of you were eleven years old. 

It all happened because you’d invited the twins over to see the brand new lava lamp you’d gotten for your birthday—the one you had been longing for relentlessly, and talked about incessantly in the lead-up to your big day—and, well, one thing led to another (as it often has the tendency to do when Osamu and Atsumu are involved) and the beloved lamp had ended up shattered across your bedroom floor only a few hours after you’d torn it from its pretty purple wrapping paper. 

Neither of the boys had been willing to take responsibility at the time, each pointing an identically vehement finger of blame towards the other, and they both refused to offer you anything remotely close to an apology—lest that somehow imply an admission of culpability. 

Your mother had sent them home after a stern, disappointed talking to and a call to their own mother (which she then echoed in a far less civilized tone when they returned home to her) and then they didn’t hear from you for almost two full weeks. It felt like an eternity back then, when life was small and days were long and just a couple of hours felt like a lifetime. You refused to come to your door when the two of them showed up knocking, didn’t answer any phone calls or instant messages they sent, and outrightly ignored them at school each day—hiding in classrooms on breaks between classes or behind the backs of other girls to avoid the increasingly desperate attempts of the twins to get your attention.

And so, on the two week anniversary of The Incident, the twins showed up at your door one last time—sheepish but earnestly remorseful—with a new lava lamp in tow. Thus the silent treatment was ended, reconciliation was struck, and there has scarcely been a day that passed since then where you had not been in some form of contact with the twins.

Osamu hasn’t heard from you in 6 weeks.

After the night of Atsumu’s party, he’d waited with bated breath to hear from you. His phone was on, sound at full blast and never too far from his reach. He knew it wasn’t really his place to reach out first. Knew you probably needed time to process things. To forgive him.

That first night he’d barely slept a wink, staring up at the ceiling of his living room, sprawled across the couch the two of you should have been sleeping on together, regretting every single moment of his life that had led him to this misery. He had texted you a simple: Let me know when you’re home safe please. It was a message he’d sent you countless times before, but never with so much urgency—but it went unanswered. It didn’t surprise him, even if it hurt. Even if it only added to the twist of anxiety turning his stomach into knots. More time passed. Seconds bleeding into minutes that turned into hours, each more agonizing than the last. He thought about calling you. Texting you again. Pulling on a jacket and chasing after you like he should have when you walked away from him hours prior. But he didn’t.

Osamu texted Atsumu first thing the next morning, with bags under his eyes and exhaustion in the marrow of his bones, asking if you’d made it back to the party safely. He’d wanted to reach out sooner—he’d had an entire sleepless night to think about nothing else, after all—but he’d waited for the sake of saving face with his twin. 

When Atsumu finally woke up and saw his message, replying back with a frightening ??? didn’t she leave with u?, Osamu’s worst fears were realized. 

After hearing from his brother, Osamu immediately texted your roommate—a girl you’d gone to college with, who might even have been considered your best friend had the twins not beaten her to the punch by about two decades. She and Osamu had always been on good terms, seeing each other semi-regularly over the years by virtue of their shared connection to you. You’d even once implied she had a little crush on him after Osamu had met her for the first time, though he had (for obvious reasons) never acted on the information. He felt no hesitation reaching out to her about whether or not you’d made it home the night before.

Yes.

Her icy reply came through almost immediately—even though it was early in the morning, even though he rarely ever texted her. The message was just three letters and a full stop, but it told him everything he needed to know: you were safe, and she knew what he’d done.

Osamu knew that the very least that he could give you in this situation was space, and he really did try, but he only made it two days of silence before he was reaching out to you again. His text had gone unanswered on that horrible, sleepless night where he had ruined everything, so after two days he finally tried to call.

It went right to voicemail.

His subsequent texts (and eventually calls) over the following days were similarly ignored, and every day that passed without hearing from you felt worse than the last.

Atsumu’s concern took root the day following his party, thanks to his brother's early morning text, and it only continued to grow. You were ignoring him too, the reason for which he had not the faintest idea, and the blonde inundated his twin for details as to what exactly had happened when the two of you had left his apartment that night.

But Osamu couldn’t tell him.

He couldn’t.

So he started avoiding his brother's calls and texts, too.

Osamu’s feelings for you were the only thing he’d ever, ever kept from his twin in all of their shared lifetime. And look where it had gotten him. 

But eventually—inevitably—Osamu finally broke. 

It was to be expected, really. He was hardly eating, scarcely sleeping, and any hours not spent robotically going through motions of keeping his business running were spent holed up in his little apartment. The apartment that now somehow reminded him far too much of you—like you had inked yourself as indelibly into the walls as you had the paint that you helped him apply when he'd first moved in.

Osamu showed up at his brother’s place at 11 o’clock on an otherwise completely unremarkable Wednesday night, still in his Onigiri Miya uniform, and as soon as Atsumu opened the door he burst—violently, spectacularly—into tears before he could even manage a greeting.

It must have been shocking, frightening even, for Atsumu to see his twin in that state. For him to have to help his brother’s crumpled frame across the threshold, over the step in the genkan, and to the couch in his living room—supporting the entirety of his weight to keep him upright. Atsumu had shown up a hundred times at Osamu’s door in not dissimilar states of heartbreak, but that was the first time he’d ever seen his twin—largely credited as the level-headed, rational one between them—like this. He’d always thought Osamu was just stronger than he was when it came to heartbreak; his relationships fizzling out with relatively little fanfare, and no substantial distress, and his exes sort of just faded into the background like they’d never even been there at all.

Atsumu never realized it was because his brother’s heart had never been theirs to break in the first place.

Osamu came clean that night in his brother’s apartment. Confessed to the sins he’d kept locked away in the recesses of his chest for so long, more fully and unequivocally than he had ever voiced the long-held secrets to anyone. And Atsumu listened. He didn’t tease him for his tears. Or berate him for keeping his feelings from him. Or yell at him for harming you and jeopardizing the friendship that the three of you had spent so much of your lives building. 

He just hugged him. Comforted him. Cried with him. Because that was what his brother needed from him more than anything else.

When Osamu calmed slightly, many hours later, Atsumu quietly admitted that he’d suspected there may have been feelings that his brother was harbouring but he’d never really known for sure. I figured ya’d tell me when you were ready. Those were the simple words he’d offered, with a little shrug and a gentle, wobbly smile. And it was the first time in all his life that Osamu realized that his brother had far more tact than he’d ever given him credit for.

Atsumu reached out to you again that night, though his messages to you for the past week had gone unanswered like his brother’s. He put his message simply. He told you that he knew what had happened. That he wanted to talk. That you were his best friend and he needed to see you.

The twins were laying side by side in Atsumu’s bed, neither asleep nor fully awake, when your reply came through.

I need some time, Tsumu.

The brothers shared a look across the mattress of Atsumu’s bed in the dim light of his bedroom, their eyes sore for crying and the harsh glare of the cellphone’s light.

They yielded.

A few day later, you finally reached out again, and agreed to meet Atsumu for dinner.

Just Atsumu.

The evening that Osamu knew the two of you were meeting without him, he was a mess. He burned half the food he tried to prepare at the restaurant, got a nasty cut on his finger when he was chopping carelessly, and almost charged a customer 250,000 yen for their 250 yen purchase. When the restaurant finally closed, he slumped over the counter with his head in his hands and waited.

Atsumu showed up not long after.

“It was weird," his brother confessed, fiddling with an edamame pod but never moving to bring it to his lips—curled down slightly as the corner as he spoke. "But I can’t go between the two of ya like this, and she can’t see me without thinking of you."

“She hates me,” Osamu rasped, a familiar, suffocating tightness swelling in his chest that had made a home there over the past two weeks. 

“She’s just upset,” Atsumu tried to console him, but Osamu could hear the wisp of frustration creeping into his twin’s tone. It wasn’t Atsumu’s fault—Osamu knew how hard this entire situation must have been for him, all as a result of the circumstances for which only he could bear the burden of blame. You’re Atsumu’s closest friend too, as much a part of the elder Miya twin’s life as you are the younger's, and Osamu didn’t take that fact for granted. Atsumu shut his eyes, sighing. “I think she’s confused, Samu. Hell, I’m confused and we shared a womb.”

Osamu’s eyes began to burn with a familiar, unpleasant prickle. He didn’t cry much about it anymore, now two weeks on, like he’d somehow run the well dry. But he’d occasionally get phantom pains behind his eyes, like the precursor to tears he knew couldn’t come. It was almost worse.

“I know,” the dark-haired twin finally muttered, his head hanging dejectedly.

“We’re gonna figure this shit out, but she’s gotta take some time to get things straight in her head first, alright?” Atsumu said softly, nudging his brother’s hand with his own, lending him encouragement in the warmth of their knuckles meeting. “Just give her that.”

So he did.

Osamu gave you another full month of time. 

Of space.

Of absence.

And now he’s here, six weeks to the day since everything went wrong.

Osamu drives home to Hyogo on a whim—the idea of spending another weekend holed up in his apartment, wondering each day if it would finally be the one where you call, is enough to make him feel sick. His apartment has never felt more suffocating than it has in your absence. Never felt smaller than it does without you in it, no matter how contradictory that sounds. It’s been a while since he went home to visit his mother and the boys from high school who stuck around into adulthood, and even though his childhood home is as rife with things that remind him of you as his current one, he can’t help but hope that the change of scenery might do him some good.

The Miya family home hasn’t changed much, if at all, since the twins were kids. As an adult, Osamu takes comfort from this fact—finds stability and familiarity in the walls and windows and roof that endure today in just the same way and in the same shape as they always have. His mother’s car isn’t in the driveway when he pulls in to complete the picture, but he hadn’t told her he was coming so he can’t blame her for not being there to welcome him. 

Osamu grabs his hastily packed duffle bag from the passenger’s seat of his truck, walking up the stone pathway his feet have trod upon so many times, in all their different sizes, to the door. He keeps his mother’s house key on his own keyring, because the last thing she’d said to him the day that he’d moved out—her hands, smaller than his own now that he’d grown so big, clasped around his as they held the little silver key—was that no matter what this would always be his home.

The genkan is the same. The coats in the closet are the same. The air smells the same, though there’s the faintest whisper of citrus in it as Osamu closes the front door behind him and toes off his shoes. His mother keeps two pairs of slippers at the door for him and Atsumu when they visit but his are missing for some reason, so he stuffs his feet into his brother’s designated pair before he pads off further into the home.

He can hear the television—the faint hum of a variety show or something similar drifting through the halls—and he laughs to himself that his mother has never quite been able to correct her bad habit of leaving the TV on even when she’s not watching it. He turns the corner into the living room, the sound of the television having grown louder the nearer he got.

And then he freezes.

The duffle bag he’d held loosely in his hand falls gracelessly to the floor.

And even though the television is right there, he can’t hear it anymore.

Because between him and the LCD screen, tucked under the kotatsu with a satsuma poised in hand half-peeled, is a face he hasn’t seen in six long weeks.

There, in the heart of the place that would always be his home, is you.

[mcl4r3n]

Ego

Or, a 2,500 word fanfic of Lando Norris discovering AO3 and getting off to fanfiction that nobody asked for but I wanted to write, anyway. :3

-

Lando Norris is a cunt and should lose his seat

Why the fuck do people keep hyping this kid up

Driver of the Day????? ARE U KIDDING ME???? WHEN CARLOS DEFENDED LIKE THAT??? Wtf

Lando exhales through his nose, slow and long, before smiling to himself and closing out his private Twitter browser.

The reception to his performance at Austria is expected, and it's a little amusing to read that that's the worst these strangers on the internet seem to be able to come up with. 

He's gotten better, certainly, at not running his mouth with reckless abandon. Charlotte would be proud of him, if she still worked for McLaren. 

He leans back in his seat, the jet preparing for takeoff. The articles were nice to him. Damon Hill had good things to say about him. P5 to P4, thanks to the penalties. It's a good fucking day. 

-

It's a little masochistic, a little narcissistic, to peruse the internet for his name as much as he does, but he’s a Silverstone winner now. He’s really enjoyed the things written up about him. 

Besides, that's how Lando learned to get over caring so much in the first place. Just a few years back, he used to agonize over a slip of the tongue, used to wring his hands and fuck up his hair in worry over what the pundits would say about him because of a careless soundbite. 

He dealt with some of the worst of it when Daniel became his teammate, and even at the end, he had to learn how to stop flinching whenever he saw the word 'sympathy.' 

Now it's different. It helps, of course, that Daniel taught him how to get over it, grow thicker skin, and deal with the worst of it. 

"Let it roll off you like water," Daniel said. So Lando did. 

It's a slower news week though, and he's bored, so he searches up his name and scrolls through all the posts on the first few pages of his Google search. 

And then he sees it, a link to something called 'Archive of Our Own,' and decides to press on it with his thumb. 

It opens to a page that appears to be. . . stories, written about. . . them. Drivers. 

Drivers with other drivers. Drivers' names next to 'Original Female Character(s)'. 

It's fiction written by fans about them. 

Lando looks around his living room, at the stalled Netflix homepage on his television screen. He really should be on the sim instead, but mostly, he's tired, and would rather do some other mindless thing. 

He scrolls through and sees one that says 'Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz' with an E in a red square. Beside it, a link leads to 'Formula 1 RPF'. 

He toggles onto a new tab and types in 'rpf meaning,' which shows the definition: real person fiction. Well, he gathered as much. 

The tags are interesting, he'll give it that. 'Blowjob', '2023 Formula 1 Season', 'Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot'.

He opens the story and scans it quickly, the morbid curiosity of wanting to know how fans see his relationship with Carlos overriding the fact that it's fucking weird to be reading what is essentially smut about himself and his friend. 

This story seems to have them written like they're secret lovers, that they have been since Carlos' McLaren days, and absolutely doesn't take into account that both he and Carlos had girlfriends at one point. 

He snorts when he reaches a line that has him saying, "Carlos, please, you're so big, please fuck me."

Lando frowns at the screen. His skin is starting to itch. Why do people think he'd say that to Carlos? For one thing, Carlos doesn't even have a big dick. Lando knows—he's seen it himself. Changing in a hurry tends to lead to that, flinging bits about while they finish golf.

"Cariño," the Carlos in the story says, and that's when Lando loses it, no longer able to contain his laughter. He's honestly tempted to send a screenshot off to Carlos, but then he'd have to explain how he found it in the first place, and he doesn't feel like doing that just now. 

So instead, he clicks back and scrolls down some more. 

There seems to be a pretty steady stream of people who are invested in Max and Daniel, and also Max and Charles, based on the list of pairings that he sees, which he can like, understand. He doesn't blame the fans at all for that, considering how many antics they get up to in the name of PR. 

They know that shit sells. Lando’s just getting a full proper look at what that actually means for fans. 

Yeah, that’s right, he tells himself. This is just homework. He’s doing recon to see what else they can do to boost their socials. 

He takes a little more time to read through the page properly. It lists the number of words in the story, the ratings that imply just how explicit the story is, and something called a ‘kudos’ which he figures means that it’s the same as likes on Instagram or whatever. 

He stops at one that has him and Daniel, and curiosity gets the better of him. It’s short, too, roughly 1,500 words. It’s listed as Explicit, but the summary is what gets him. 

“Daniel knows exactly how to congratulate Lando properly for his win at Silverstone.” 

Lando leans back into his throw pillow and holds his phone a little closer to his face. 

The story is set in the new Hilton hotel, and this must have been written by a fan who was actually there because the description of the room itself is eerily similar to the room he himself stayed in just last week. 

This story seems to get the way he and Daniel talk a little closer to reality than the previous one he perused. 

It’s so strange to be reading this, to have his mannerisms laid out in text, to see how a fan describes him through this fictional version of Daniel. 

Lando can’t seem to exit out of it, though. The Lando in the story is happy, of course, about winning. But the Daniel in it—seems desperate. For him. 

Lando’s fucking hooked. 

Daniel wants to reach out, wants to mess up Lando’s curls even more, never mind the fact that it’s sticky with sweat and champagne. Lando hasn’t even changed out of the clothes from the fan stage yet, but all Daniel wants to do is undress him, bury his face in Lando’s armpit, and inhale deeply, abolish any sort of space that separates them. 

Lando puts his phone down. His heart rate has kicked up a little. This is fake. This is fake. This is fake.

He gets back to reading. This is fake. Like, it’s all made up, but the details that this fan throws in… well. It has Daniel staring longingly at his moles, and the way his clothes hug his thighs and—

And now, the Lando in the story is turning around and tipping his head to the side and saying, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

Lando draws his knees closer to his chest, curling his arms in and reading intently. 

"Mate, I'm really—I'm having a hard time right now and I think I should uh, go," Daniel says. He starts to scramble. He doesn't even know why he thought visiting Lando in his room would be a good idea. 

Daniel turns to leave but Lando steps in closer, frowning. 

"What's going on?" Lando asks, his eyes searching Daniel's face for any sort of answer. Daniel needs to go. He needs to go right fucking now, but Lando has his hand wrapped around his wrist and he looks wounded by Daniel's abrupt one-eighty. 

Daniel hangs his head in shame. 

"I want to—to kiss you, and I need you to let me go before I do that." 

Lando doubts that Daniel would ever actually say that, but somehow he’s not inclined to laugh about this the way he was with the other story. 

Lando’s hand remains where it is, fingers strong and unyielding. 

“You—you wanna kiss me? Are you drunk right now?” 

Daniel wants to fall into the floor beneath him, have the marble or whatever the fuck this tile is made of to rearrange its molecules so he can become one with them. That's better than having to repeat himself. That's better than having to admit out loud that he wants to fuck his ex-teammate who is ten years his junior. 

Lando pauses here. He's realizing that the AC isn't quite cold enough. How'd that happen? 

He readjusts himself on his couch. There's really no point in reading on but now he wants to know what happens. Morbid curiosity really is getting the better of him. 

His screen lights up again when he raises his phone and unlocks the screen to where the story is still there, taunting him.  

He exhales. He reads on. 

"Yeah, Lando, I wanna kiss you," Daniel says, his voice steadier than how he actually feels. 

Lando's eyes narrow, and he tilts his head, regarding Daniel like he's lying, like he's fucking with him. And, yeah, okay, fair, Daniel's said enough gay-sounding shit around him for him to be suspicious, but that was all for the cameras. 

There aren't any, here. There's no reason for him to be playing gay chicken. 

Lando's hand tightens around his wrist. 

"Prove it, then," Lando says, raising his chin, like a dare. Like a fucking dare. 

Daniel could easily leave. He isn't much bigger than Lando but he could have pulled away earlier. Except—except now Lando is taunting him. Telling him to put his money where his mouth is. 

Lando's heart is racing now, torn between wanting to close out of this story and reading on, just because he's gotten this far. He might as well finish it. 

Daniel steps closer, and even if this isn't exactly how he'd fantasized about kissing Lando for the first time, but somehow it's still fitting. Lando is so handsome like this—blush high on his cheeks, all the way down to his neck. 

He cups his hand under Lando's jaw, and brushes his thumb over the stupid fucking beard that he hated at first but now loves—

Lando frowns. Was his beard really that bad? 

—and presses his lips to Lando's. It's tentative at first, exploratory, hesitant in its early press, but then Lando moans, gasps against his mouth, and Daniel takes that as his cue to seal his lips in closer and slide his tongue against Lando's. 

It becomes frantic then after they both cross the threshold into each other's breaths. Lando's hands grasp at Daniel's shirt, and the next thing Daniel knows, he's being guided to the bed, collapsing on top of the pristine duvet without ceremony. 

Lando clambers on top of him and straddles his hips, and Daniel can already feel himself getting hard in his jeans. 

Lando stops reading. 

He stops because all of a sudden, he can feel himself getting hard, too. 

He glances between his legs as if looking will make it go away but it’s futile. He can see his half-chub starting to tent his shorts. Fuck. What the fuck? 

But then again—he’s alone right now. No one is around to see this. 

He feels juvenile, like he’s thirteen all over again trying to sneak porn on his older brother’s laptop and then learning how to delete his search history. Except that porn sort of made sense, to him, at least. He was watching girls with big boobs getting railed by these buff men. 

This is—this is different. Kind of concerning. He’s sure none of the other drivers have ever done this. 

But the more he waits, the more impatient the little voice in his head gets, wanting to know what happens in the story. He sighs, resigned, and opens his phone back up. 

“Lando, Lando, wait,” Daniel says, pulling away and desperately trying to catch his breath. “I—There, I proved it to you. Are you happy?” 

“Yeah, I was, until you stopped, you muppet,” Lando frowns. “Why’d you stop?” 

Daniel swallows the spit in his mouth—Christ almighty, that’s spit that also came from Lando’s mouth. “Because if we keep going, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.” 

Lando leans over him, and Daniel has to suppress the shudder that courses through the entirety of his body because Lando is hard, too. Lando is hard and pressing his erection against Daniel’s steadily growing one, and he has to curl his toes to deal with the fucking emotion of it all. 

Lando’s fucked. He’s so fucked. He’s fully hard now from reading this scene, and before he can bring himself to feel too much shame over it, he’s tugging the elastic of his shorts and his boxers down to tuck it under his dick and—fuck, fuck—

He holds his phone in his left hand and spits into his right before bringing it to his cock to wrap around it while he reads on. 

The story progresses quickly from there, the Lando and Daniel in the scene getting back to kissing frantically and undressing each other, and none of the words feel cliche. It’s almost chilling how clearly he can hear his voice and Daniel’s in the dialogue, but what’s most concerning is that the more he reads, the faster his hand goes. 

In the story, Daniel takes Lando’s erection in his hand and kisses him silly while Lando fucks into his grip, and Lando tries to follow suit, so caught up in what he’s reading that he finds himself feeling like his hand isn’t his own, like it’s Daniel’s instead, and by the time this imagined Lando finally spills all over his own belly, Lando’s own real-fucking-life orgasm is ripped out from him, and he’s coming all over his own hand, matting down his pubes with how much jizz there is that’s still coming out in small little spurts from his dick. 

He drops his phone, now that he’s spent and boneless on his couch. His right hand is gross and he doesn’t even have any tissues nearby, so he has to settle for taking his shirt off to mop up his mess. 

He’s sated and sleepy, but then the shame starts to creep in, except that his phone starts to ring, and—Jesus Christ, speak of the devil—he sees that Daniel is calling him. 

It’s with shaky hands that he retrieves his phone from the carpet, and it’s with a shakier voice that he answers it. 

“Heya, Lando,” Daniel says. “D’you wanna meet up for dinner tonight? I just got back to Monaco and I’m jonesing for that rotisserie place we went to last time.” 

Lando exhales, now that post-nut clarity has started to suffuse his brain with rationality from the comedown. 

“Yeah, Danny, I’m in,” Lando replies. “I can pick you up at 6:30?” 

“Super,” Daniel replies. “It’s a date!” And then ends the fucking call. 

Christ. He has no idea how he’s going to face Daniel tonight after what he just did. 

[rubykgrant]

(bringing back the "Rookie Grif and Simmons Meet Their Future Selves" picture because I thought of ways to expand it a little~ This all happens in a scenario where a new time god AI is messing with everybody, just for gits and shiggles, and this is one of the things that happens. the people who get pulled from their proper time-line eventually get sent back with erased memories and a "rewound" internal clock to avoid paradoxes, but some nonsense still happens!)

"Aw, look at how cute I was..."

"What the f- I don't call myself- I don't think- I'm not cute! Guys aren't cute!"

"Oh, shit, I forgot I was insecure as hell back then too. Damn,"

"You? Look at ME over there. Oh my God, I'm a baby!"

"NO! I'm 22! And that's- I mean, it's LITERALLY 4 years older than the legal voting age, and another year over the legal drinking age, so I'm a man! Chronologically! Mathematically! Legally!"

"I'm a repressed man-baby,"

After the initial shock of "another time displacement event has happened" wore off, Grif and Simmons- that is, the older Grif and Simmons, were casually amused to see their younger selves.

It really wasn't the worst thing an antagonistic AI with god-like power could do. So they had to baby-sit the two insecure and repressed Grif and Simmons with their little rookie buzz-cuts for a while. Big deal. They had already sorted out a similar situation with Tiny-Sarge, plus the angsty-teen versions of Carolina and Wash. As far as the older men were concerned, this was fine.

The two younger men (who were definitely MEN, and NOT cute) did not agree. The last thing they had been doing was fighting on the floor of the barracks; Grif had somehow managed to roll out of his cot, slowly slide onto the floor without making any noise, continue rolling until he reached the cot next to him, and while still out cold, wormed his way up onto the mattress, forcing out the person who had currently been sleeping there. Simmons.

Simmons responded by yanking his blankets out from under the intruder, which made Grif roll out of the cot yet again, this time quickly, and hitting the floor with a thud. He woke up pissed, and an argument quickly followed.

All around them, the other rookie soldiers had groaned, and tried to block the bickering with their own pillows. It just never ended with those two. Every single person who had trained with them hoped and prayed that they would NOT get sent to the same assigned base as Grif or Simmons... ESPECIALLY not Grif and Simmons TOGETHER.

Simmons tried to tackle Grif, which was a mistake, because Grif wasn't exactly an experienced fighter, but he knew a thing or two about how "playground wrestling" (which was like cage fighting, but with less rules). Grif had Simmons trapped in a tight hold, squawking empty threats, and then...

They weren't in the barracks anymore.

They were in what seemed to be a livingroom. A large livingroom in a fairly nice apartment. They were also between the TV and a huge couch, full of many unfamiliar people... except for three. Three of these people were familiar; another Grif, another Simmons, and- Grif's little sister? Kaikaina?

The young Grif and Simmons panicked, but the strangers seemed to only be mildly irritated. A short dude with dark hair and glasses swore, said something like- "Not THIS again". A gruff old guy, with a buzz cut of his own, looked at them almost wistfully, like a dad at his kids' graduation or something. Kai burst out laughing, and Grif couldn't process his sister being TALLER than him.

Several agonizing minutes later, explanations and introductions were made. The sarcastic dude with the glasses- Church, he went with a few of the others to "fix the problem". After a discussion, the rest of this group agreed to go out, buy some extra changes of clothes and supplies for the time-travelers in case they remained for an extended stay, and Grif and Simmons would stay at the apartment. With Grif and Simmons.

It was WEIRD.

"Why do our faces look all... jacked-up?" the younger Grif asked.

"AND WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING EACH OTHER LIKE THAT!?" the younger Simmons nearly screeched, pointing at the sight.

The older Grif and Simmons were standing together, in the kitchen. This Simmons had both arms drapped over Grif's shoulders, linked by holding one of hi wrists. This Grif stood with one arm bent, the hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other wrapped around Simmons' back, that hand resting on the other man's hip. Their middles were pressed together. All cozy and... intimate.

Also, the older Grif clearly had sections of his body covered in skin that was a shade lighter than the rest of him. The older Simmons had... robot parts? Robot parts! In the same areas, around the eye, one side of his jaw, and the left arm.

"Well... long story short, I got hurt, needed extra skin and organs and blood, so he shared..." older Grif answered, grinning like this was FUNNY somehow.

"Then a BUNCH of other stuff happened, and now we're married," older Simmons added, seeing the horrified looks of disbelief on the younger faces. "Trust me, this is NOT the weirdest part of our lives!"

"There is no way in HELL-"

"NO, this IS hell, this has to be hell, you choked me to death in the barracks, and I died, and this is some kind of torture in the afterlife!"

The younger Grif and Simmons were not taking things well.

"Calm down, don't get yourself all worked-up again!" the older Grif said to the younger Simmons. Somehow, his tone wasn't unkind. Younger Simmons didn't expect any version of Grif to sound like that. "You aren't dead, and this isn't hell. We can get into the philosophical implications about the afterlife later, if you chill out-"

"Oh man, they haven't even had that conversation yet!" the older Simmons chuckled.

"Ha, this is gonna be fun. But first thing's first..." Grif walked over to the fridge, and pulled out several containers. "I know myself, and back then, I was jonesing for pizza bad,"

"Dude, you have no idea..." the younger Grif forgot all about the issues he had with his future-self's taste in romantic partners, his taste in food was still acceptable.

"I absolutely have EVERY idea, I lived through your life up to this point. I remember that crappy military food, and the tiny portions. This pizza right here? Pepperoni, bacon, 2 kinds of mushrooms, 3 kinds of cheese, olives, and green bell peppers. I'm heating you up four slices, AND making chocolate milkshakes. Get ready to not feel like you're STARVING for the first time in months," the older Grif began preparing the food as his younger self followed behind, looking like he might start crying tears of joy.

"Maybe we DID die... except I went to heaven..." he mumbled quietly.

"Here, I know you'll like this..." the older Simmons opened another container, waving his younger self over. This Simmons was less food-motivated, and thus less trusting when offered a treat. Older Simmons was putting different portions of food onto a plate. "By the way- you aren't actually allergic to half the things you THINK you are,"

"I'm- I'm not?" younger Simmons cautiously asked.

"Nope. Mom and Dad just used to serve you under-cooked food because they followed all those stupid diet trends, and gave you food poisoning," older Simmons finished with the plate; it was Chinese food, chicken fried rice with various vegetables, pork chow mein, 2 potstickers, and spicy mandarin chicken. He put the plate in the microwave, heating it up for a couple of minutes.

The Grifs were off in happy-pizza-land, but the Simmons' weren't focused on the food. Younger Simmons noted the casual yet disdainful way the older Simmons spoke about their parents. It wasn't as if he didn't complain about them himself, he could get pretty loud and angry about his dad from time to time. It just... usually had more of a build-up. More of an emotional explosion. Which he always regretted later, and felt like he owed an apology to a man who hadn't even heard anything he said... this older Simmons was oddly more confident and open. Younger Simmons didn't even recognize that attitude in himself.

"So, you aren't allergic to everything. And those times you got sick, that wasn't your fault. You weren't the problem. Even the times you did get sick because of and actual food intolerance you have, that wasn't your fault either..." the plate was ready. Older Simmons handed it to younger Simmons with an encouraging smile, and motioned for him to go join the two Grifs at the kitchen table for milkshakes. Older Simmons got himself a plate of Chinese food as well, and sat down beside the older Grif. They had very little space between them. The younger Grif and Simmons were sitting at opposite ends of the table, trying very hard to NOT look at each other.

"You were serious before... you guys actually got married?" younger Simmons finally asked when he felt like his brain was working again. He could see both of the rings older Grif and Simmons wore. Wedding rings, on their ring fingers. Not only that, the rings matched; older Simmons had a dark red ring with a band of gold running through the center. Older Grif had a gold ring with a dark red band.

"Yep," older Grif said after a gulp of milkshake.

"WHY?" younger Grif had one eyebrow raised, utterly confused.

"I'm not sure. I think he tricked me," older Simmons deadpanned, but his poker-face broke almost immediately. The older Grif leaned against him, his head fitting into the crook of Simmons' neck, both men smiling in a satisfied way.

"No, really, why?" younger Simmons pressed the issue. "He's- he's the worst! He always makes a mess, he forgets to flush the toilet, he's lazy beyond all reason-"

"Oh yeah, and you're a dream!" the younger Grif finally looked at the Simmons he knew, and it was with a glare. "You are so up-tight, you've got the military rule book stuck up your ass side-ways, you're an annoying little shit-"

"OK kids, stop flirting~" the older Grif pretended to scold the younger men on the other side of the table. They were shocked into silence at that; flirting? FLIRTING? They were NOT flirting!