#no idea how to or if I should try to console you. so like a coward I waited until I could rail about that moment in the anbu arc where

[cherryxbooo]

Okaaaay I can't resist on sending in another idea ❤️😊 I just loved the previous imagine too much!

Maybe some more Tim angst, where he's dating another officer for a while now and they're really happy. Then someday they get into an argument about something stupid, so she keeps ignoring him for nearly the whole shift. Later he hears over the radio that one officer got shot during a call and he already has a bad feeling. Just then his phone rings and Grey confirms his fears that it was you.

At the hospital it's not sure if you'll survive and Tim fears losing you without apologizing. In the end you survive of course and it's all just cute and fluffy in the end 🙊

We’re in this together

Summary: A police shift goes wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for an officer, but it hits differently when you’re losing the love of your life, and your last interaction was a fight.

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite mug in both hands.

The first sip sent a warmth through me that was only rivaled by the sight in front of me.

Tim sat at the table, hunched over, tying his boots with the same care and focus he brought to everything he did.

Sunlight poured through the window, framing him in a soft glow, and I couldn’t help the way my lips tugged into a smile.

“Another day, another shift,” I teased, my voice gentle as I took another sip of coffee.

He glanced up at me with a crooked smile that never failed to make my heart flutter.

“Another day of you trying to boss me around.”

I raised an eyebrow, setting my mug down as I sauntered toward him.

“You love it when I boss you around.”

Tim chuckled, his hands pausing on his laces as he gave me a look that was all warmth and affection.

“You might have a point, sweetheart.”

He tugged the laces one last time and stood, towering over me in that way that always made me feel both small and completely safe.

“But I think I deserve a little credit for putting up with you.”

“Putting up with me?” I repeated, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

“Who’s the one who burned breakfast again last week? Pretty sure I’m the patient one here.”

Tim stepped closer, his hands finding their way to my hips as he leaned down just enough to press a kiss to my temple.

“I burned breakfast because you distracted me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a little shiver through me.

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as I rested my hands on his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied without missing a beat, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried.

He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

“Ready to head out, or should we take another five minutes to ‘discuss’ who’s the patient one in this relationship?”

I laughed again, giving his chest a gentle shove.

“Grab your jacket, Bradford. We’re not showing up late just because you can’t stop flirting.”

Tim grabbed his jacket and slid it on, but not before stealing one last kiss, quick but lingering enough to leave my heart racing.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured as he opened the door for me.

“You make it too easy.”

The drive to the station was filled with the kind of soft, easy conversation that came with knowing someone inside and out.

Tim reached over at one point, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the console.

Without a word, he intertwined our fingers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my skin as we drove.

“Think Cap will still be in that mood again today?” Tim asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Probably,” I replied with a grin.

“You know how he gets when things don’t go perfectly. Angela said he spent half the night poring over those reports. Sounds almost like you.”

Tim shook his head with a soft laugh, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

“He needs to take a page out of your book and learn how to relax. Just like how you thought me.”

I smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’ll let him know you said that.”

“You would,”

he replied with mock exasperation, but his grin softened as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm and gentle.

“That’s why I keep you around, you keep everyone on their toes.”

My cheeks warmed at the affection in his voice, and I leaned back into the seat, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.

With Tim, even the drive to work felt like something special, like a little pocket of peace in the chaos of our lives.

As we pulled into the station’s parking lot, Tim shifted the car into park but didn’t move to get out just yet.

Instead, he turned to me, his gaze soft and adoring.

“What do you want to do on our next day off? Our day off is sacred, you know.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think, even as a smile tugged at my lips.

“How about a picnic? Somewhere quiet, just us. You bring the sandwiches, and I’ll bring dessert.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in to steal one last kiss before we stepped out into the world of uniforms and chaos.

“You always know how to make a day perfect,” he murmured against my lips.

“So do you,”

I whispered back still not believing I've got the grumpy Tim Bradford wrapped around my finger.

The precinct was already alive with its usual controlled chaos when we arrived.

The familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air.

Officers walked around, exchanging case files, refilling coffee mugs, and prepping for the day ahead.

Tim and I stepped through the front doors together, the click of his boots against the tiled floor perfectly in sync with mine.

Ever the gentleman, Tim held the door open for me, his hand brushing lightly against the small of my back as I walked in.

The gesture was small but grounding, one of those quiet moments of affection that felt uniquely ours.

We didn’t make it three steps inside before Lucy’s voice rang out, full of teasing energy.

“Oh, look, it’s the power couple gracing us with their presence!”

she called, grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against her desk.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

“Good morning to you too, Chen.”

Angela was quick to join in, an amused smirk playing on her face.

“Wait a second... is that a smile on Tim’s face? What did you do, bribe him with something?”

I turned to Tim, arching a playful eyebrow.

“See? They think you’re less grumpy. Guess I’m rubbing off on you after all.”

Tim let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not that grumpy,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching upward.

“Oh, sure,” Angela replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“And I’m the King of England.”

I laughed, giving Tim a quick wink as we moved toward our desks.

“Don’t worry, Bradford. I like you grumpy. Keeps things interesting.”

He shot me a mock glare, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he pulled his chair out and settled in across from me.

The morning briefing was the usual mix of updates and assignments, with Grey running through the day’s agenda in his signature no-nonsense tone.

Tim sat beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence that made my heart skip despite the mundane nature of the meeting.

When the captain finally dismissed us, Tim leaned over, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“You zoning out on me, sweetheart?”

I smirked, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad.

“Nope. Just wondering how you manage to look so serious all the time.”

He tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “It’s a gift.”

“Must be exhausting,” I teased, standing and grabbing my notes as we joined the others heading toward the bullpen.

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable rhythm as Tim and I fell into our usual routine.

Working together had become second nature after months of finding our rhythm.

We didn’t need words to communicate half the time, a shared glance or the slightest tilt of his head was enough to tell me what he was thinking.

But as the hours ticked by, the warmth of the morning started to shift.

Calls came in one after another, each one more demanding than the last.

The weight of the job pressed down on us, and the lighthearted banter that carried us through most days began to fade.

During a brief moment of reprieve, Tim appeared beside me, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

His expression was softer now, more serious, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Thought you could use this,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual.

I took the cup, my fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.

He gave a small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that he saved just for me.

“Don’t mention it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

It was moments like these, tucked between the chaos and the noise, that reminded me how lucky I was.

With Tim, the hard days felt a little less heavy, and the good ones felt extraordinary.

Tim and I rarely fight, but if we did, we were quick to make up. But this time I wasn't so sure about that.

It began in the shop during a lull between calls, one of those rare, quiet moments when the hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air.

The city seemed unusually still, as though even it were taking a breath.

I glanced out the window, watching the sunlight play off passing buildings, when the thought struck me.

“Hey,” I said casually,

“we’re out of supplies in the first aid kit.”

Tim, who’d been focused on the road, flicked his eyes toward me briefly.

“You forgot to restock it, didn’t you?”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an edge that immediately put me on the defensive.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? You’re the one who used it last.”

He let out a short breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, and I told you to refill it afterward.”

“You told me?” I shot back, incredulous.

“No, you mentioned it in passing, and I assumed you’d take care of it since, you know, you used it.”

Tim’s jaw tightened as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s not about who used it. It’s about being prepared. What if we get a call and need it? Are we supposed to improvise because you didn’t think to check?”

His words, laced with frustration, hit a nerve.

My temper flared, and I turned in my seat to face him fully.

“Oh, so now it’s my job to clean up after you? Got it. I’ll just add that to the list, right after making sure you remember to pack your lunch and not leave your coffee mug in the car.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“This isn’t about me leaving my mug. This is about you taking responsibility for something important instead of deflecting every damn time.”

The way he said it like I was careless or didn’t pull my weight, sent a sharp pang of hurt through me.

“Wow, Tim,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks for the lecture. I’ll be sure to put it in the suggestion box right after I file all the other things you think I should be doing better.”

“Forget it,”

he muttered, his tone curt as he turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I crossed my arms, glaring out the window as silence fell over the car.

The warmth and ease of the morning were gone, replaced by an icy tension that made the air feel heavier.

By the time we pulled up to the next call, the tension had settled in so thickly it felt like another passenger in the car.

Neither of us spoke as we stepped out and approached the scene, our usual rhythm replaced by clipped movements and short, professional exchanges.

For the rest of the shift, I kept my responses to Tim short and curt.

If he asked for status updates, I gave him the bare minimum.

If he cracked a joke to try and lighten the mood, I didn’t even spare him a glance.

It was petty, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I could feel his frustration growing with every brush-off.

The way his jaw clenched or the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when I avoided meeting his gaze only confirmed it.

By mid-afternoon, he stopped trying altogether, the usual back-and-forth banter between us replaced by strained silence.

Finally, during a rare quiet moment back in the car, Tim broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“You going to keep this up all day?”

I didn’t look at him, instead staring out the windshield at the street ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said flatly.

“Are you going to stop being an ass?”

He sighed, long and heavy, the sound of someone grappling with his own frustration.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Have it your way.”

But even as he said it, there was something in his tone that softened the edges of my anger.

I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest flicker of hurt in his expression.

It wasn’t like Tim to let things fester, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.

Still, my own stubbornness held firm, and I looked away before he could catch me staring.

The silence between us stretched on, heavier now than it had been before.

The next day arrived, and the tension between Tim and me hadn’t eased.

With us both being too stubborn to give in.

We were back at the station for our next shift, with the two of us still clearly not on speaking terms.

The air was thick with unspoken words as we went through the motions of starting our day.

Tim was focused, doing his job with the usual precision, but the distance between us was palpable.

Angela and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched the two of us, sensing that something was off.

“So,” Angela started, leaning against the counter with her coffee cup,

“what’s going on with you two? You guys usually can’t keep your hands off each other, and today—”

She gestured between us, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Nothing?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tim and me.

“You two seriously not talking?”

I glanced at Tim briefly, but his attention was fixed on the paperwork in front of him.

I sighed inwardly, turning to face my friends.

“It’s just... a disagreement,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Angela looked unconvinced.

“A disagreement? You’ve barely looked at each other all morning. Come on, you can tell us. What happened?”

I didn’t know how to explain it.

The argument from yesterday still felt fresh, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging it off. “We’ll work through it.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced either, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, because it’s so obvious you two are just fine.”

I forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got work to do, right?”

Tim didn’t seem to notice our conversation, too absorbed in whatever report he was reading.

I glanced at him again, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something, but the other part was still too angry to make the first move.

The next few hours felt like a blur of cases and calls, my mind distracted by the unspoken words lingering between us.

At least I was scheduled to go on patrol with a rookie today, which meant I’d be away from Tim for a while.

The rookie, Aaron, seemed eager enough, though I could tell he was still finding his footing.

I was relieved, in a way, I didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being in the same shop as Tim while we were still this... distant.

Late in the shift, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.

“Units 23 and 45, we have a report of a suspected robbery crew holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Multiple units responding. Proceed with caution.”

I immediately grabbed my gear, my heart rate spiking slightly.

This was serious.

Aaron, looked at me, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You ready, Officer?”

I gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just follow my lead.”

The ride over was quick, the weight of the situation settling in as we pulled up to the scene.

The warehouse loomed in front of us, abandoned and desolate, like something out of a movie.

Officers were already moving into tactical formations, their expressions tense as they communicated through earpieces.

My stomach tightened as we got out of the car, the sound of officers shouting commands echoing through the air.

We were assigned to clear the second floor of the building.

I glanced up at the stairs, the darkened interior of the warehouse giving off an eerie vibe.

My instincts kicked in, but I pushed the thoughts aside, there was work to do.

Aaron and I moved cautiously up the stairs, checking our corners as we went.

The silence was deafening, the only sound our footsteps on the dusty floor.

It was too quiet.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I motioned for Aaron to take the left side while I covered the right.

We moved slowly, staying low to the ground.

My hand hovered near the grip of my weapon, but something felt... off.

And then, a single gunshot shattered the silence.

The sound was deafening, ringing in my ears, and before I could react, pain exploded in my side.

I gasped, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground.

My breath hitched as I tried to focus, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through my uniform.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Aaron…”

My voice was shaky, but I could still hear the panic in his voice as he called for backup.

But all I could focus on was the searing pain in my side and the growing sense of fear that gripped me.

At that moment my mind went blank and the last thing I could think about was... Tim

Meanwhile,

Tim was still at the precinct, sitting at his desk, his mind occupied with the usual paperwork and the hum of the station around him.

It was a rare quiet moment, one of those in-between times when the calls had slowed down, and officers were catching their breath.

He barely noticed the radio crackle to life at first.

But then, a voice came through, sharp and urgent:

"Officer down. Requesting medical assistance."

His stomach dropped.

A cold wave of dread swept over him, his breath catching in his throat.

The world around him seemed to slow as he stared at the radio.

He was trained for these moments, for the harsh reality that could hit at any moment.

But this? This felt different.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he looked around the bullpen. His heart was racing.

The words replayed in his head. Officer down.

The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing who hit him like a freight train.

But he had a feeling who it was, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting like this right?

"Who is it?" Tim's voice was low but desperate, laced with an emotion he wasn’t willing to admit.

The other officers in the room exchanged glances, but no one had an answer.

The station seemed to be holding its breath as everyone waited for more information.

Tim didn’t wait.

His eyes locked on his phone as it began to ring, the screen lighting up with a name he’d never wanted to see in this context: Grey.

His heart pounded harder, a sickening sense of dread seizing him.

He grabbed the phone with shaking hands, swiping it to answer.

"Grey," he said, his voice tight, barely holding it together.

There was a pause on the other end. A heavy silence.

Then, Captain Grey’s voice came through, thick with an emotion Tim couldn’t place.

“It’s Y/L/N, Tim,” Grey said, his tone grim.

“She’s been shot. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s.”

Tim froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/n has been hit. He couldn’t breathe.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a blur of terror and disbelief.

His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep it together.

“Tim…” Grey’s voice softened, as if he could sense the storm raging inside him.

“Get to the hospital. They’ll need you there.”

Tim didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

He just slammed the phone down, his body already in motion, his heart racing like it might beat out of his chest.

The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was deafening in the silence of the station.

He didn’t think. He didn’t ask questions.

His mind was consumed by one thought, one single, unrelenting impulse: Get to you.

He grabbed his keys off the counter, his fingers fumbling as he rushed to the door.

He didn’t stop to grab his jacket, didn’t hesitate for a second.

His eyes were wild with panic, his breath shallow as he sprinted out of the station.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Every second that ticked by felt like a hundred years.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it was painful.

The sirens of other emergency vehicles echoed in the distance, but they only made the dread in his chest grow deeper.

What had happened? Were you okay?

His mind raced with questions, but every time he tried to focus on the answers, the fear crept back in.

He couldn’t let himself go there, not yet.

He didn't even get to apologize, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.

The hospital loomed ahead, its lights flashing in the early evening dusk.

Tim didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking lot, his car screeching to a halt.

He was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop, barely registering the cold night air as he rushed inside.

His heart was pounding in his ears, the noise around him a blur as he darted through the hospital’s hallways.

He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to her.

Finally, he reached the ER. The doors swung open, and he froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the room.

Nurses and doctors moved quickly, their expressions grim as they passed by.

"Sir," a voice called from behind him, and he turned to find one of the paramedics who had been at the scene and knew about Tim's arrival.

“She’s in surgery.”

Tim’s breath hitched, and he felt his knees go weak. Surgery.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

“Is she…” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t want to hear the answer.

The paramedic’s eyes softened, but there was no comfort in them.

“We don't know yet, the bullet went deep making it a dangerous operation. They’re doing everything they can.”

He was out of breath, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

He couldn’t shake the image of you he created in his brain, lying on the floor of that warehouse, the pain in your eyes, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there to protect you.

He walked over to the waiting area, collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.

His body felt like it was made of stone, but his mind was all fire, anger, guilt, fear, tearing him apart.

All he could do was wait. And pray.

Tim sat in the sterile, quiet hospital room, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on your face.

The soft beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals was the only sound that filled the space, but even that felt too loud, a reminder of the fragile thread that you were hanging on.

Tim had barely been able to breathe since he’d received the call about you.

The news had come like a punch to the gut,

'Officer down.'

It was all a blur after that, the frantic rush to St. Joseph’s, the sterile scent of the emergency room, the doctors giving him no guarantees.

They weren't sure you’d make it through.

Those words had haunted him, repeating in his mind over and over, and no matter how many times he told himself you were a fighter, the fear never quite went away.

He never told you that he loved you properly that morning, never had a chance to make it right.

The argument from the day before still felt raw, and the thought of not getting the chance to apologize tore at his heart like nothing else could.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Tim whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

“I should’ve told you I loved you before. I should’ve… I should’ve been better. I’m so sorry.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, as if his touch could bring you back to him.

Your hand felt warm in his, but the stillness of your body only made him feel more hopeless.

What if he’d never get the chance to make it right?

What if this was the last time he’d hold your hand, the last time he’d be able to tell you how much you meant to him?

Angela and Lucy arrived not long after, their faces a mix of concern and support as they entered the room.

Tim hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked away from you.

Lucy tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes to get him to smile, but it felt impossible.

How could he laugh when you were lying there, so close to slipping away?

She offered him a drink, trying to give him space to breathe, and as soon as she left to go down the hall, Angela stayed behind, sitting beside him in the chair.

“You know, you don’t have to do this alone,”

Angela said, her voice soft but firm, as if trying to remind him he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything by himself.

“You’ve got people who care about you.”

Tim swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The guilt was suffocating, and the uncertainty of what would happen to you next made his chest ache.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her, not after everything. The last words we said to each other… they weren’t even good ones. We fought. I fought with her, and now… now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make it right. What if she… what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Angela reached over, gently placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of empathy.

“Tim, she knows. She knows you love her. She knows you’d never want to hurt her.”

“I should’ve told her that,” Tim muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice thick with regret.

“I should’ve told her before. She deserves to hear that from me, not after everything's already gone wrong. What if... What if she doesn’t know how much she means to me?”

Angela squeezed his arm in reassurance.

“She does, Tim. You just have to believe that. And when she wakes up, you can tell her then. You’ve still got time to make it right.”

“I just wish I’d made more time… before all this happened,”

Tim whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

As the hours dragged on, Lucy came back with a drink, and the two women left, sensing that Tim needed some space.

They both exchanged a concerned glance before making their exit, but their presence, their words of support, had offered Tim a little comfort.

Still, as the door closed behind them, he was left alone in the room again with you.

His heart beat painfully in his chest, and the room felt colder now that the comforting voices of his friends were gone.

He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours as if he could keep you anchored in this world with his touch.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Your fingers twitched, and Tim's heart skipped a beat. His gaze snapped to you, not daring to blink, as he saw your eyelids flutter.

For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but then you blinked again, and this time, your eyes fluttered open, groggy but focused.

Tim didn’t know what to do first. He could barely breathe as he leaned closer, his hands shaking.

“Y/n?” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it as if to make sure you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he was having.

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Your eyes met his, blurry at first, but then clearer as you seemed to recognize him.

A small, weak smile spread across your face, and Tim felt the tight knot in his chest slowly start to loosen.

“Tim?” you whispered, your voice soft, hoarse from the intubation, but still full of recognition.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tim called for the doctor immediately, unable to tear himself away from your side.

His heart raced as he watched you, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.

What if you didn’t make it through this?

What if you slipped away again before they could get to you?

But then the doctor arrived, checking your vitals, and gave them the good news.

You were stable. You had pulled through.

“You’re going to be okay,” the doctor said.

“You’ll need to stay here for a few days, but you’re out of the woods.”

Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt since the moment you were shot.

You were here.

You were with him.

I let out a small chuckle, despite the pain, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thought I was in heaven when I opened my eyes and saw all these lights.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, his hand tightening around yours.

“Please never scare me like that ever again." He said now much more seriously, before speaking up again.

"I’m so, so sorry, babe. For the argument, for the way I talked to you, for everything.”

My smile faltered, my eyes full of vulnerability.

I reached out with my free hand, gently cupping his face.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve let us get so angry. I love you, Tim. I just… I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Tim replied, his voice shaky.

“I love you more than anything. And I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen again. I won’t take you for granted. I’ll fight for us, always.”

My voice cracked as I spoke again, tears spilling from my eyes.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Tim. I don’t ever want us to be apart again.”

Tim kissed my hand, his lips brushing over my knuckles, the tears still flowing freely from both of us.

“I swear, babe, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every moment from here on out showing you how much I love you.”

“No more fights. No more leaving things unsaid. Let’s never do that again.”

Tim smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the words that had been stuck in his heart all along.

“No more fights. I promise. We’re in this together."

"Always.”

In that moment, everything felt right again.

I was alive. I was here, with Tim.

And nothing, no matter what, would ever break us apart again.

The end

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To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:

SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!

Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup

Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity

Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty

RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)

engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?

✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨

ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :

Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!

GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!

Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!

BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!

-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!

-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.

-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.

-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.

-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye

[rizzanon]

02 | A QUITTER?

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The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.

Bruce’s brows furrowed, his usually calm expression giving way to faint confusion. “You’re… quitting?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, silence filled the cavernous Batcave, save for the faint hum of the Batcomputer. He studied you, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to read your mind. “Why?” he asked finally, his voice measured, almost clinical.

You froze, caught off guard. Why? Why had you suddenly decided to quit? Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. This life was everything she had worked for—every patrol, every bruise, every sleepless night fueled by a desperate need for validation. Why had the words come so easily to you now?

Your mind reeled, racing to string together an explanation that made sense. After a long pause, you took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Because… you were right,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “This life… it was never meant for me. I was just too dumb to realize it before. But now, I do.”

The admission felt strange, almost foreign. Sixteen-year-old you wouldn’t have said that—not to him, not to anyone. And yet, as the words left your mouth, they felt right.

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just watched you, his gaze intense, cold, and calculating. You could almost feel him inspecting every inch of you, every nuance in your expression, searching for cracks in your resolve or signs of insincerity. The weight of his scrutiny was almost unbearable, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back slightly and nodded. “If that��s what you’ve decided,” he said simply, his tone unreadable. Without another word, he turned back to the Batcomputer, his eyes scanning the reports as if the conversation had never happened.

You blinked, stunned. That easy? He really just let you go like that?

For a moment, a flicker of relief passed through you, but it was quickly overshadowed by another thought: Just how much did he not want you to take up the Batgirl mantle? The thought gnawed at you, but you shoved it down, forcing yourself to nod.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward the staircase, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you ascended, you couldn’t help but glance back once, but Bruce didn’t move, his attention fixed on the screen. You pressed your lips together and forced yourself to keep going.

Bruce heard your footsteps fading up the stairs, each one echoing through the cavern like a countdown. He stared at the Batcomputer, his hands resting motionless on the console. But his eyes weren’t scanning the reports anymore.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder as the clock door slid shut behind you. His expression hardened, his brows furrowing deeply.

Something about this felt… wrong. Letting you walk away like that—it felt final, like a line had been drawn in the sand. A line he couldn’t cross.

You’d said you were quitting because the life wasn’t meant for you. Bruce should be relieved that you were no longer putting yourself on the line, no longer risking your life for the sake of crime-fighting.

But now, it was as if he was watching you slip through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Should he have said something? Say what exactly? That you shouldn’t quit being Batgirl? That he wanted you in his this life?

Bruce clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the screen, willing the unease in his chest to go away. He told himself it was for the best. He already long knew that this path was never meant for you.

And yet…

A faint, nagging voice whispered at the back of his mind, telling him he’d made a mistake. That letting you go like this wasn’t just about the Batgirl mantle—it was about you. About him. About the growing distance between the two of you.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not now. Pushing the thoughts aside with the same discipline he applied to every other personal distraction, Bruce returned his focus to his work.

But that unease lingered, a heavy weight in his chest that no amount of reports or missions could quite shake.

“Richard,” Damian began, his tone flat and serious. “What does it mean when a girl cuts her hair short?”

The fast-food restaurant buzzed with the usual cacophony of clinking trays and murmured conversations. Damian sat stiffly across from Dick, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a way that made it clear he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dick, mid-bite of his burger, froze. Slowly, he put the burger down, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. Then, with a sly grin, he leaned forward. “Why’re you asking? Is there someone who caught your eye, little D? Someone from school, maybe?”

Damian scowled, his cheeks tinging slightly pink. “Do not be absurd. This is not about me.”

Dick chuckled, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Oh, so it’s not about you. But you want my expertise on the matter? Man, I didn’t know you valued my opinion so much.”

“I don’t,” Damian snapped, his glare intensifying. “But you’re a certified idiot when it comes to women, so your insight into their ridiculous behavior might be useful.”

“Ouch.” Dick placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “And here I thought we were bonding.”

“We’re not,” Damian replied flatly, though his posture shifted in discomfort.

At that moment, Tim approached the table, balancing a tray piled high with burgers and fries. He slid into the booth beside Dick, setting the tray down with a thud.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Damian here wants to know why a girl would cut her hair short,” Dick said, his grin widening. “And apparently, I’m the expert on ‘ridiculous behavior.’”

Tim raised an eyebrow at Damian, who was now scowling at both of them. “Uh… okay. Who are we talking about?”

“It’s about… (name),” Damian muttered.

The lighthearted teasing immediately stalled. Tim and Dick exchanged a quick glance, their expressions shifting to something more serious.

Dick, however, quickly recovered, leaning back in his seat. “Nah, no way. (name) wouldn’t cut her hair. She’s been growing it out for years. You’re making this up.”

“I am not,” Damian snapped, crossing his arms. “You’ll see for yourselves later if you’re too thick-headed to believe me.”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Dick said, grabbing a fry. “Second, I don’t know, man. She’s always been pretty attached to her hair. Like, she used to freak out if even half an inch got trimmed too short when she was younger.”

Damian scoffed audibly, narrowing his eyes at Dick. “Tsk. It’s not just a trim, Grayson. She cut her hair to her shoulders.” He said the word shoulders like it was a personal affront. “And it looks ridiculous.”

Dick frowned immediately. “Don’t say that, Damian,” he chided, but then his voice trailed off as his mind wandered. Shoulders? That was… really short.

His brow furrowed slightly as he thought about it. Had you really cut your hair? You were always so particular about it. He remembered vividly the offhanded comment you made years ago about how you liked your hair long because it made you feel elegant, pretty—like yourself.

Wait, years ago?

That sinking feeling began to gnaw at him. Sure, people changed their preferences all the time, but this felt… odd. Why now? Why so drastic?

“Grayson?” Damian’s sharp tone cut into his thoughts. “Are you malfunctioning, or have I rendered you speechless for once?”

“Huh?” Dick blinked, refocusing on the youngest Wayne.

“Useless,” Damian muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I should have known better than to seek advice from you.”

Dick snapped out of it, shooting Damian a half-hearted glare. “Hey, you came to me, remember? And cutting hair isn’t ridiculous; it’s just a personal choice. People grow, Damian. Maybe she just… wanted a change.”

Damian raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Wanted a change? That’s the best you can come up with? Tt. I thought you were supposed to be insightful.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dick said, pointing at him with a fry, “you’re lucky I don’t throw this at you. And second, you’re the one acting all worked up about her hair. I’m just trying to figure out why you even care.”

“I don’t care,” Damian replied curtly. “I simply have standards, unlike you.”

“Oh, trust me, buddy, we know your standards are very high.” Dick smirked. “For someone who claims not to care, you’re putting a lot of energy into this.”

Damian glared, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I will not waste further time explaining myself to a fool.”

“Love you too, Dami,” Dick said with a cheeky grin, earning an eye roll from the younger boy.

Tim, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “Alright, so… are we just going to sit here debating haircuts, or are we going to eat?”

“Good idea,” Dick said, popping a fry into his mouth. But the momentary distraction didn’t stop his mind from circling back to you.

Why did you cut your hair? Was it really just a preference change? Maybe.

Damian’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts again. “Grayson, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring into space like a dim-witted cow.”

Dick sighed, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Great talk, Damian. Really helpful.”

“Likewise,” Damian muttered, clearly unimpressed.

But Dick was already tuning him out. He needed to check in with you later. He heard you had patrol tonight—or at least that’s what Barbara had mentioned. Wait, why didn’t you tell him that yourself?

Whatever. He’d figure it out. If you were on patrol, he’d just join you and ask about that then. That is, if Damian doesn’t insist later on being his patrol partner…

Maybe it was nothing…

Tim sat in the booth, idly picking at a fry as his mind wandered. He’d been the one to steer the conversation away from your haircut, but now he couldn’t help but think about what Damian had said. You cut your hair? That didn’t sound like you at all.

Then again, what did Tim really know? It wasn’t like the two of you were close. Despite living in the same manor for the past three—almost four—years, there had always been this… distance between you.

He frowned, resting his chin on his hand. It hadn’t always been that way. He remembered the earlier days, when both you and him were just starting out. Back then, you used to ask him the most ridiculous questions about cases and missions—questions that made him pause and wonder if you were even paying attention to the briefing.

“What do you mean, ‘How do you know which lead to follow?’” Tim had asked once, incredulous. He’d given you a look, that signature are you serious expression he reserved for when someone asked something truly baffling. Then, as always, he ended up solving the issue himself, bypassing the need to answer you at all.

At the time, it was mildly annoying but manageable. He figured you were just trying to find your footing. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. But gradually, the number of times you came to him for help lessened. At first, Tim thought it was progress, that you were finally figuring things out on your own.

But no.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that your work was slipping. You’d miss key details, overlook evidence, or focus on the wrong leads entirely. And every time, it was Tim who ended up fixing it behind the scenes, covering for your mistakes before they could turn a case—or worse, a mission—into a disaster.

He hadn’t minded at first. But as it kept happening, as he kept watching you barrel forward with that same stubborn, hard-headed determination, something shifted.

Tim’s frustration grew. He started to wonder why you were even in this line of work. If you couldn’t handle the basics, what were you doing risking your life out there? Of course, he never said it out loud. He wasn’t that cruel, and he knew voicing those thoughts would probably lead to a fight neither of you wanted.

But still, it gnawed at him. That unspoken tension built over time, creating the invisible wall that now sat between you. He’d distanced himself on purpose, convinced that staying out of your way was better for the both of you.

But was it?

Tim sighed, pushing his tray of fries away as Damian and Dick bickered in the background. Now, the idea of you cutting your hair had wormed its way into his thoughts, and he couldn’t shake it.

You cut your hair.

It wasn’t about the haircut itself—it wasn’t about aesthetics or style. It was about what it represented. Something had changed. Had you?

And while Tim told himself he didn’t care, deep down, a small part of him wondered if he’d made a mistake keeping you at arm’s length all this time.

“Hold up, Babs, why exactly am I needed at the Batcave tonight again?” Stephanie said, twisting the tool in her hand to tighten a small screw.

She sat at Barbara’s clocktower, absentmindedly flicking through her phone while doing a small repair on one of her gadgets. She was content, for the moment at least, doing something mindless and waiting for whatever task Barbara would assign her for the night.

But when Barbara called her name and asked her to suit up for the night, Stephanie couldn’t help but frown.

Barbara sighed, her voice a little tired but still managing to hold a calm tone. “Tonight, we’re a little short-handed, Steph.”

“A little short-handed?” Stephanie repeated, letting out a disbelieving scoff. She glanced up at Barbara, clearly unimpressed. “How can it be short-handed when she’s around?”

Barbara knew who Stephanie meant by “she”. Why? Because you used to grab every mission or patrol you could, like you were always hungry for action, hungry for validation. There had always been this one-sided animosity between you and the blonde—more so you toward her. And it wasn’t like Stephanie was oblivious to the reason why.

It was because she’s Batgirl too. When Barbara and Dick allowed her to don the cowl during the events after Bruce’s “death,” Stephanie had been given the opportunities you wanted for yourself. Barbara knew that too, but she had chosen not to intervene, thinking that the animosity you felt would die down after a while.

Well, it did. But not in the way anyone expected.

Barbara adjusted her glasses as she leaned back in her chair. “(Name)’s not around tonight.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, confused by the simple statement. “Well that’s a first. Why not?”

Barbara hesitated, the words slow to come. “She… she quit.”

“…..”

“…..”

“WHAT??!?”

Barbara didn’t flinch at the outburst, her calm demeanor masking her own lingering confusion.

“Wait, wait,” Stephanie said, waving her hands in the air like she was trying to physically stop Barbara from speaking nonsense. “She quit? Are we talking about the same person? (Name) Wayne? The same person who basically begged to be Batgirl?”

Barbara shrugged slightly. “Bruce told me earlier today. Said she came into the cave, and told him she was done, and walked out. That’s all I know.”

“That’s all you know?” Stephanie repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, scoffing. “That’s insane. She’s gotta be pulling some kind of dramatic move. Like, I don’t know, trying to get some attention or whatever. She’ll come back. Give her, like, two days, tops.”

Barbara frowned, though she didn’t entirely disagree. You were the type to make bold, emotional decisions, always seeking to prove yourself in some way. But there was something about how quiet and decisive you’d been when you quit that didn’t sit right with her.

“You don’t think she’s serious, do you?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Barbara admitted. “It’s… unlike her, I’ll say that.”

Stephanie scoffed again, shaking her head as she stood up to grab her Batgirl suit. “Whatever. I’m calling it now—she’ll be back, and when she is, I’m going to remind her just how ridiculous she’s being.”

Barbara watched Stephanie slip into her suit, her mind racing with questions she didn’t have answers to. This wasn’t like you at all. You were persistent, stubborn even. You fought tooth and nail for the Batgirl mantle, always pushing to prove yourself despite the doubts and obstacles.

For you to just walk away, without warning, felt… wrong.

As Stephanie tightened her utility belt and prepared to head out, she didn’t notice the far-off look in Barbara’s eyes. Even if you were planning to come back, the decision to quit felt too deliberate, too final.

And for the first time in a long time, Barbara found herself worrying about you in a way she hadn’t before.

After telling your father that you quit—and seeing how easily he let you go—you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head.

You walked through the halls of Wayne Manor, your mind heavy with frustration, confusion, and a gnawing emptiness that you couldn’t quite name. As you turned the corner, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention, you bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered automatically, not even looking up at first. But when you did, you froze.

Cassandra.

She stood in front of you, already suited up in her sleek black Bat costume, the faint outline of her emblem catching the light. She looked ready for patrol, or maybe she was just on her way to the Batcave. Her mask wasn’t on yet, so her sharp eyes were trained directly on you, studying you in the way that always made you feel exposed.

For a moment, you two just stared at each other in silence.

You were the first to move, brushing past her quickly without another word. But before you could make it more than a few steps, her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Your hair.”

You turned around, confused, and caught her still looking at you with that unreadable expression of hers.

“Yeah,” you said, your tone clipped. “I cut it. I know. I get it. It’s awful.”

You made a move to leave again, but her next words surprised you enough to freeze you in place.

“No,” Cassandra said simply, her voice softer now. “It looks… really nice.”

You blinked, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. A compliment? From Cassandra? That wasn’t something you were used to.

“Thanks,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I guess.”

Without waiting for her to say anything else, you turned and headed back to your room. Your mind raced with the strangeness of the interaction as you climbed the stairs, the faintest trace of heat rising to your cheeks.

It wasn’t just her compliment that threw you off. It was the fact that she’d initiated a conversation at all. Cassandra had always been silent around you, her communication limited to nods, gestures, or the occasional word when necessary. For her to speak up, to make an effort, felt… different.

Weird, you thought as you closed the door behind you.

Uncharacteristic.

But as you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help but replay her words in your mind.

“It looks… really nice.”

For some reason, they lingered longer than you expected.

From the moment Cassandra bumped into you in the hallway, she could tell something was off. The way you carried yourself, the weight in your movements—it was different. Subtle, but undeniable. She couldn’t quite place what had changed, but it unsettled her.

As she descended into the Batcave, the low hum of tension greeted her before she even stepped off the elevator.

Bruce and Damian were mid-argument, their voices sharp and escalating. Damian’s fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his face twisted in anger, while Bruce’s tone was firm but weary, as if he’d been repeating himself for the hundredth time.

Nearby, Dick stood between them, hands raised in a futile attempt to diffuse the tension. Stephanie leaned casually against the wall, scrolling on her phone while occasionally glancing at Tim, who was tinkering with one of his gadgets. They were the only ones who seemed unaffected by the brewing storm.

When Cassandra stepped into view, Steph looked up and gave her a warm smile. “Cass! Finally, someone sane. Come join us before this place explodes.”

Tim glanced up as well, offering a quick wave before turning back to his project. Cassandra hesitated for a moment but walked over to join them, her eyes still flicking toward the argument at the center of the cave.

Damian’s sharp voice cut through the relative calm of her corner. “Why is Brown here? Isn’t it supposed to be (Name)’s turn to patrol tonight?”

Stephanie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, little guy,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Damian ignored her, his gaze locked on Bruce. “Well?” he demanded.

Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s not patrolling tonight.”

Damian’s brows furrowed, his tone growing more impatient. “And why not? Where is she?”

The tension in the room thickened as Bruce finally answered. “She quit.”

For a moment, the entire cave went still. Everyone except Stephanie and Bruce froze, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What?” Damian said flatly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Dick was the first to intervene, stepping forward and addressing Bruce directly. “What do you mean, she quit?”

Bruce’s tone was even, but there was an edge of finality in it. “Exactly what I said. She told me she quit, and I respected her decision.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “And you just let her?”

Bruce gave him a calm but firm look. “If that’s what she wants, who am I to stop her?”

Damian’s expression darkened, his anger bubbling over. “Unacceptable,” he growled. “There’s no way she just quits. Something’s wrong.”

Before Bruce could respond, Damian spun on his heel. “I’m asking her myself,” he snapped, already storming toward the elevator.

“Damian—” Bruce started, but Damian ignored him, disappearing up the elevator shaft before anyone could stop him.

The silence that followed was palpable, the weight of Damian’s fury lingering in the air.

Dick broke it first, his voice calm but resolute. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Bruce hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Go. Make sure he doesn’t do something reckless.”

As Dick followed after Damian, the remaining group stayed quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Cassandra’s gaze lingered on Bruce, her mind still replaying your distant expression from earlier. Something about all of this felt… wrong.

And she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

The peace and quiet of your room shattered when the door slammed open without so much as a knock. You looked up, startled, to see Damian standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with fury and confusion.

“You quit?” he demanded, his voice sharp and biting, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries.

Caught off guard, you blinked at him. “Good evening to you too, Damian,” you said dryly, already bracing yourself for the argument that was clearly brewing.

He stepped inside, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “What do you mean you quit? You seriously quit? Why?”

You let out an annoyed sigh, already tired of his interrogation. “Why? Can’t I quit?” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Damian’s jaw tightened, his expression shifting from anger to utter disbelief. “Are you right in the head?” he shot back, his voice rising. “What kind of madness is this? Did all those late nights finally drive you insane?”

Ok, that ticked you off. Slightly.

“Seriously?” you deadpanned, giving him a pointed look. “You think this is about me losing it?”

“Yes!” Damian barked, his voice ringing through the room. “First, you cut your hair off like it didn’t mean a damn thing to you, and now you suddenly walk up to Father and say you’re done being Batgirl? Just like that? You’ve completely lost it!”

You frowned, irritation creeping into your voice, but you kept calm. “Nothing is wrong with me,” you replied firmly. “I made a decision. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Not my business?” Damian repeated, his voice incredulous. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “This affects all of us! You can’t just make a decision like this without considering what it means for the rest of the family!”

You stood up, arms crossed. “And why does that bother you so much? You’ve never cared about what I do. All you’ve ever done is criticize me, undermine me, act like I don’t belong here in the first place! So why do you care now?”

“I don’t care!” Damian snapped, though his voice faltered for just a second. “I care about what your actions mean for our family. You walking away like this—it’s selfish, reckless—”

That was it. The breaking point.

“Selfish?” you shot back, the irritation in your voice finally boiling over. “You’re calling me selfish? After everything I’ve done to prove myself? After all the crap I’ve put up with just to show all of you that I deserve to be here? And you have the audacity to call me selfish?”

Damian threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t just about you! Do you even realize what you’re throwing away? What your actions say about the rest of us? You’re acting like—”

“Like what? Like I’m done?” you yelled, cutting him off. “Because I am, Damian! I’m done trying to live up to expectations that no one even thought I could meet in the first place! I’m done being the one who has to prove herself every damn day just to get a shred of acknowledgment!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Damian shot back, his tone defensive. “Father wouldn’t have given you the mantle if you didn’t deserve it. You’re just—”

You cut him off again, your voice sharper, harsher. “He gave me the mantle because I practically begged him to. Not because he thought I deserved it. And every day since, I’ve tried to make up for it, to prove that I do deserve it. But nothing ever works. I get sidelined, tossed aside, whenever Father or Dick or anyone else decides I’m not good enough to help.”

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms. “You don’t get sidelined. You’re just making things up.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, your tone biting now. “Don’t act like you know what I go through.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off again, your voice rising. “No, don’t you dare. You don’t know. You don’t know how it feels to constantly feel like you’re not good enough, to be compared to everyone else and always come up short. You don’t get it, Damian, and you never will. Because you’ve always been the heir, the one Father sees as his true successor. But me? I’ve been nothing but an afterthought.”

Damian’s face faltered for a brief moment, something unspoken flashing in his eyes. He hated the way his chest ached at your words.

“That’s not true,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Not when I’m constantly being sidelined, not when I have to fight for scraps of approval while everyone else gets a free pass. And definitely not when even you can’t see me as anything but second-rate!”

Damian hesitated, caught off guard by the raw emotion in your voice. He quickly shook it off, doubling down. “This is beneath you,” he said coldly. “Throwing a tantrum and walking away won’t fix anything.”

“A tantrum?” you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. “You think this is a tantrum? Damian, this is me saying I’ve had enough. I’m tired of breaking myself for a family that doesn’t even see me!”

“Then make them see you!” Damian countered, his voice rising again. “You don’t just quit because it’s hard! You don’t just give up!”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Of course, that’s your answer. Just fight harder, right? Because that’s all you know how to do. But I’m not like you, Damian. I can’t keep pretending that this fight is worth it.”

“Not worth it?” Damian repeated, his tone disbelieving. “Are you actually kidding me? Richard told me that fighting for family is always worth it—”

“Well Richard can go fuck himself for all I care,” you snapped, cutting him off. “For someone who prides himself as a family guy, he’s done a great fucking job proving that, hasn’t he?”

Damian bristled, his voice rising. “Don’t talk about Richard that way—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I forgot he actually gives a damn about you. No wonder you have such a biased perspective on how he really is.”

Damian froze, stunned into silence by your words. The room grew unbearably quiet, tension heavy in the air.

Finally, Damian let out a sharp breath, his voice low but laced with finality. “This isn’t over,” he said, turning on his heel.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone, your chest heaving from the intensity of the argument. You sank back into your chair, exhaustion settling in as the adrenaline faded. But the ache in your heart lingered, sharp and unyielding.

Damian’s words echoed in your mind, each one like a sharp jab to the chest. Selfish. Reckless. The words rang in your ears, infuriating and unfair.

Damnit. You hadn’t meant to blow up on him. But everything was just… too much. It wasn’t like you could keep pretending it was fine anymore.

Your fingers dug into the armrest of the chair as you shut your eyes, the headache beginning to set in behind your eyes. You could almost feel the physical ache of the emotional turmoil. I don’t care… You repeated the words silently, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. You had always cared about this family. You had tried so hard to belong, to prove yourself.

But what had it gotten you? You fought tooth and nail for the mantle of Batgirl, begging for the chance to prove you were worthy of it. Yet, here you were, useless in Damian’s eyes, ready to walk away. Maybe he was right—maybe you were being reckless, selfish. Because if you weren’t being Batgirl, who were you anymore? You certainly didn’t feel like the Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

You scoffed bitterly, shaking your head. They’d be fine without you, you thought. They always are. It wasn’t like your role in the family made a difference. You had always felt like an afterthought, never quite fitting in the way your siblings did. They all had their roles—Damian was the heir, Tim was the brain, Jason was the wild card, Cassandra was the silent powerhouse, and Dick was the one holding everyone together. You? You were just… there. Batgirl, but only when they needed you, only when it was convenient. When Stephanie wasn’t around. You hated to admit it, but she was undeniably a better Batgirl than you could ever be. You only saw that now, after everything you’ve been through.

“I should’ve quit a long time ago,” you muttered to yourself, your voice hollow.

They didn’t need you. Not really.

You clenched your fists at your sides, frustration building again. But then, as much as you tried to convince yourself that quitting was the right decision, you felt the doubt creep in. The sting of Damian’s words lingered like a cut, refusing to heal. What had you really thrown away?

Damian thought it was selfish? Well, maybe it was. But that wasn’t all there was to it. He couldn’t see it. He didn’t know the pain you’d been carrying all this time. The weight of the mantle, the pressure to be someone you weren’t sure you could be. You literally died because you wanted to prove you deserved this mantle.

But Damian didn’t know that. No one in the family did. To them, you were still 16. But you were 20, somehow in your 16 year old body. And frankly, you didn’t think anyone would have believed you if you told them. They’d probably rule you off as delirious.

Was it selfish to want to take a step back, to breathe, to figure out who you were without the costume, without feeling the need to live up to unrealistic expectations?

You ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends of the newly cut strands. It felt different—lighter, maybe—but it didn’t fix anything. The ache in your chest remained.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the Gotham skyline. The night was quiet, peaceful even, but you felt nothing but turmoil inside. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to feel so lost, so empty after making a decision that was supposed to bring you peace.

But all you felt was the sting of Damian’s words, the echo of a family that would carry on without you. Maybe you weren’t meant to fit in. Maybe you were never meant to be Batgirl. Maybe quitting was the only way to let go of the weight you couldn’t carry anymore.

But the thought of it didn’t bring relief. It only brought more questions. More doubts. And the ache in your chest kept growing.

Dick made his way out of the Batcave, the soft hum of the cave’s equipment still echoing in his ears as he began his search. He knew the halls of the Batcave well, had spent hours running through them as a child, but for some reason, he couldn’t place exactly where Damian had gone.

Where would he be?

He knew Damian wasn’t the type to go off and brood in silence. No, if Damian had something to say, he’d say it—loudly. So the question was: Where would he go to find you?

Dick’s feet moved without thought, his mind running through options, trying to remember every possible place Damian could have gone. There was the training room, sure, but that didn’t seem likely. The library, maybe? No. He probably went to look for you in your room.

Dick’s boots echoed softly on the polished floor as he headed toward the hall where your room was supposed to be. His steps slowed, however, as a troubling realization settled in his chest.

Wait… where was your room?

Dick froze in the hallway, blinking in confusion. His gaze wandered down the corridor, his mind grinding to a halt. He’d known you for years, shared the same space, even lived under the same roof for what felt like forever—but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where your room was.

It was a simple enough question—where was your room? He’d been there countless times, right? He’d spent so much time around the Manor, yet now, all he could think about was the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint the location of your room. The door had been right there, hadn’t it? Near the end of the hall? Or maybe down by the study?

Dick’s breath caught in his chest, and he quickly shook the thought off.

This is ridiculous.

He was probably just overthinking it. He was the oldest, the one who had been around the longest. It didn’t make sense for him to suddenly forget something so simple. Get it together, Grayson.

But the more he tried to focus, the more his thoughts twisted into a spiral. He knew where everyone’s room was.

How could he not know? Sixteen years. He’d known you for sixteen years. He’d visited this house, stayed in this house, lived in this house for years, and yet…

His breath hitched. The realization was almost too absurd to comprehend.

He knew where Damian’s room was. Knew where Tim’s was. Knew Cassandra’s, hell, he even knew where Jason’s childhood room was—Jason, who didn’t even live here anymore. He even knew the little quirks about each of their spaces: the sword display in Damian’s, the books stacked haphazardly in Tim’s.

But your room?

His mind was blank. He couldn’t even picture it.

Had he ever been to your room? Surely, he must have at some point. Right? His stomach twisted as he tried to remember, as if dredging up a memory he wasn’t sure even existed. Why couldn’t he see it in his mind? How could he have let this slip past him?

Panic began to rise in his chest as the uncertainty clawed at him. He’d been part of this family for years. He knows you the longest out of everyone. He should have known this.

Dick stood in the middle of the hall, mind reeling. How could he forget?

Before he could descend further into his spiral, he heard it. Muffled voices, raised in anger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut.

Your room.

Without thinking, Dick’s instincts kicked in, and he started moving toward the sound. He rounded the corner just in time to see Damian storming off, his face set in a mask of fury. He didn’t even spare Dick a glance, his steps quick, purposeful.

“Damian!” Dick called, jogging after him, a mix of concern and confusion flooding his mind. “Hey, wait up.”

Damian didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickened, and he shot a look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time for this, Grayson.”

Dick’s frustration only grew. “What’s going on? What happened in there?”

Damian’s fists clenched at his sides as he turned his head back toward the direction he was walking. “Nothing you need to know.” His voice was tight, clipped.

Dick’s steps faltered, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Damian, come on—don’t shut me out. What happened with you and (name)?”

Damian, however, wasn’t interested in talking. His head jerked up with a scowl. “I don’t need you to fix this, Grayson. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Dick, unwilling to let it go, caught up to him and blocked his path. “Damian, I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want to understand what happened. Why are you so upset?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something more than anger. “Because I don’t understand it!” he snapped. “(Name) quit. She quit, Dick! And you’re all just standing around pretending like nothing’s wrong! That it doesn’t matter!”

That stopped Dick in his tracks. His heart sank as the weight of Damian’s words hit him. Standing around and pretending like nothing’s wrong? That it doesn’t matter? Of course not. He’s worried too. You quit? It didn’t make sense. But before Dick could respond, Damian was already pushing past him, practically shoving him out of the way.

“Damian—” Dick started again, but the younger boy cut him off, raising a hand to silence him.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m done with this conversation.”

Dick’s hand shot out instinctively, grabbing Damian’s arm before he could walk past. “Damian, stop. Just talk to me for a second.”

Damian whirled around, his eyes full of frustration and barely contained rage. “Why? So you can tell me everything’s fine? That we’re just supposed to accept this?” His voice cracked, just slightly, and Dick saw the sharp pain beneath the anger. “You don’t get it, Grayson. She quit. She walked away, and it feels like no one’s doing anything about it. No one cares!” His fists clenched tighter, the tension in his body radiating off him like a live wire.

Dick felt a heavy lump settle in his throat, a mixture of confusion and concern. He understood Damian’s anger—he was angry too, but his reaction was much more raw, and far more personal than Dick had anticipated.

Dick’s hand remained on Damian’s arm, his grip tightening ever so slightly, trying to ground him in the chaos of the moment. He stared at Damian, confusion and concern evident in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” Dick asked, his voice softer now, tinged with confusion. “Of course I care about her, Damian. But getting upset won’t change anything.”

Damian let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “Sure, you care now,” he scoffed. “But it doesn’t feel like that to her, does it?”

Dick froze, his hand still gripping Damian’s arm, but now it felt more like a lifeline for him, trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of this emotional storm. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his heart starting to pound. “You’re not making sense.”

Damian pulled his arm away sharply, his movements tense and jerky. “Whatever,” he muttered, his voice growing colder. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to the cave.” He turned on his heel, striding away, his anger still hanging heavy in the air.

Dick stood there for a moment, his mind reeling. Damian’s words were like a punch to the gut, and Dick couldn’t make sense of them. It doesn’t feel like that to her. What was he talking about? Was Damian implying that you didn’t believe Dick cared about you? That you’d somehow gotten the impression that no one cared, that no one was doing anything to stop you from leaving?

A knot of anxiety formed in Dick’s stomach as the implications of Damian’s words settled in. Did you really think he didn’t care? The thought gnawed at him, twisting and turning in his chest.

He had always assumed you knew how much he valued you, how much he cared for you—as family, as his sister. But now, he wondered if he’d ever truly shown that.

Damian’s words continued to echo in his head as he stood there, frozen for a moment longer. What did he mean? Dick couldn’t fathom why you would feel that way.

With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside, his mind refocusing. He had to find you. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, especially if you thought you weren’t seen, weren’t valued. He had to fix this, whatever it took. But when he makes his way to your room, Dick just freezes in his place. What should he say to you? What would make you feel better? Dick hates how nothing instantly comes to his mind, hates how he couldn’t form a solution to try and resolve whatever conflict you had with Damian.

Without another word, Dick turned towards the cave, his resolve hardening. He’ll just wait until you’ve calmed down from your emotional argument with Damian, and then talk to you.

how we feeling about this chapter 😘

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[kooyabooya]

BABYLON

m reader x sana // 26k words

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

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

It’s not that easy, though. 

Never was to begin with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

(A minor correction: two new occupants.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Most of the time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Kinda funny, though.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t do anything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuning back in to the image: 

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

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

Still, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please tell me that’s satirical.” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A plus I might admit.” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good to know.” 

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

“Ha Ha,” 

“What? I’m serious.”

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And this is news to me, how?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, why not?” 

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

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

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

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

“You’re setting me up, aren’t you.” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t sound fun.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why the paradoxical proposal?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why does it matter to you?” 

“That’s my phone you’re using.” 

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

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

“She was mine first before you came along.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sana, it’s late.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. No. Don’t even think about–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this inferno was unraveling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“She told you?”

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

“What do you know so far?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, my friend, are entirely fucked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

Maybe this summer will be saved after all.) 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least a couple weeks at this point.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“You need to go home.” 

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

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

“Breakfast on the table?” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

–

Fucking Sana has its own luxury. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still want the usual meal?” 

–

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

The blips don’t also fucking help either:

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About?” 

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

“I thought you were okay with it?” 

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

“Doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Sana, what are you implying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you asking me to–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moonstruckme]

Hellooooo my favorite catlover/writer

I got another pop up idea this morning (happens way too often)

But first of all ! Don’t wear yourself out ! You write a lot and it’s amazing ! But prioritize yourself first. Don’t let requests put a pression on you ❤️

I know how it feels

Anyways

I’m not a morning person like most of the population except SOCIOPATHS.

And I imagined what it would feel like having the emt!marauders watching you up since they have to go to work early. You know like kisses, shoulders massages, soothing words as they try to calm your rise and everything…

If you don’t like it that’s ok! Don’t write it.

Love you, rest well. (Drink water)

Thanks for your request babe! Hope you're resting well and drinking water too <3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 654 words

You stir when you feel Remus shifting underneath you. He reaches over to shut off his alarm, hand coming back to rest over your head placatingly. The appeasement doesn’t last long; when he goes to move out from under you, you make a soft whining sound. 

“Dove.” His voice is husky with sleep, but there’s fondness to it. It makes you want him to stay even more. 

The mattress creaks at the other end of the bed as James gets up. Sirius grumbles, scooting closer to you and shoving his face into your neck in rebellion. 

“Don’t let them take me,” he mumbles pitifully. 

“Baby.” Remus sounds more exasperated and also more amused now that both you and Sirius are half atop him. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but it hardly matters. “Come on.” His lips touch down on your head. “You can sleep, but we have to get ready.” 

The bathroom light turns on. Both you and Sirius moan tormentedly. 

James’ laugh is too loud for the early hour; you’ll never understand how he wakes so quickly. “Need some help, love?” 

“Please,” Remus replies. 

Sirius makes a half-asleep sound of protest as he’s dragged away from you, James speaking to him in a low, amused voice. 

“Alright,” Remus murmurs, kissing your head again, “my turn.” 

He eases your head off of his chest, setting it gently on the pillow before getting out of bed. You mourn the warmth of his spot next to you. 

James is ready the fastest, back to press kisses to your pouty lips and soothe his big hands over your shoulders. “Do you want me to make you something for breakfast, lovie? If you get up now I’ll whip you up a fancy coffee.” 

“James,” Remus chides from the bathroom, “let her sleep.” 

James sighs but bends to mush loving kisses into your neck, murmuring nonsense at you all the while. 

“I know you don’t like the bathroom light on, but if you think about it, we’re the ones who have to endure it. Sirius is in there halfway to a temper tantrum because his hair won’t behave, and you’re here all warm and cozy in bed. You look terribly cute like this, do you know? It’s really cruel of you, it ought to be illegal, and if Sirius were awake enough to form a thought he’d agree with me.” His kisses turn ticklish, and James chuckles when you wriggle. “Really! I mean it, you don’t know how lucky you are getting to stay here in bed and looking so adorable. Remus is about to drive us to work, and Sirius is going to insist on laying down in the backseat and moaning about how much he misses you all the while, it’s terrible. I ought to take a picture of you to console him.” 

“Don’t,” you mumble. You find one of James’ hands with your own, dragging it underneath your pillow for safekeeping. 

James laughs again, and another chuckle joins him as Sirius comes out of the bathroom. 

“What’re you doing to her, you relentless pest? At least one of us should be allowed to sleep.” 

James makes a soft grunting sound as the bed dips. You don’t have to open your eyes to know Sirius has draped himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll get him away from you,” Sirius promises. “Jamie, I require one of your fancy coffees.” 

“Me too,” says Remus from the bathroom. 

James succumbs to the weight of peer pressure and goes, and a short while later the bathroom light shuts off. Remus crouches by the bed, kissing you softly. 

“Sleep well,” he says, brushing some hair away from your face. “We’ll see you after our shift, dovey, okay?” 

You mumble out a response, already falling asleep again in the returned darkness of the bedroom. 

Remus’ thumb skims fondly over your cheek. “Love you too, sweetheart.” 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base of your spine. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

“Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She’ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

[rainyyynightssss]

Twisted Wonderland

Reacting to you having trouble with other students

Characters: Trey, Jade, Floyd, Rook

Notes: Some violence

Trey Clover

You sit next to Trey at a library table, shoulders brushing up against each other as you both look at the textbooks splayed across the surface. You had been having trouble some of your classwork and it seemed harder than usual since you come from a world without magic. Trey, noticing your struggles, offered to help you study which was a compromise since you first asked to copy his notes.

You've been trying to focus on the notes and tips he's giving you instead of the lingering touches as he directs your hand to the next page, or the small praises he gives you after getting a question right, or his soft breath on your cheek as he leans close to check your work. No, you've been diligently studying and not feeling any kind of heat in your face.

"And what about this one?" Trey asks as he taps his finger on the open page in the textbook. You look down at the words and think for a moment.

"Um..so sublimation is...turning solids into gas...without having to go through the liquid phase?" You half-guess. Trey smiles and hands you another chocolate covered candy that he had called 'motivation'.

"Right again. You're better at this than you think." He says as he flips the pages over to the next question. You sigh and rest your face on your hand.

"I really should be compensated for all this trouble." You mention.

"The trouble of doing your work?" Trey chuckles, "I can whip something up for you later. Your favorite, of course." He winks.

Just as you're about to launch into a discussion about your favorite dessert, something hard is knocked into the back of your head. You whip around and find a couple of Heartslabyul boys passing behind you. One of them is holding a heavy book and smirking while the other two try to hide their snickers behind their hands.

You have no idea what you could have done to these boys. Sometimes just breathing was enough to piss off students at Night Raven College.

"Whoops. Wasn't paying attention." One of the boys says flippantly as he shifts the book to his other arm, nearly smacking you again. You rub the back of your head, ready to tell them off when one of them eyes the bag of candies on the table.

"Oh, Trey! Can we have some? Please!" The boy begs and his friends follow suit. Trey stares at them with a blank look for a few moments before smiling.

"Sure. Here you go," He hands them a handful of the chocolate candies each, "They taste better if you eat them all at once."

The Heartslabyul boys run off after receiving the candy without a thank you or an apology. You narrow your eyes at Trey.

"Awfully kind of you to give candy to my assailants." You sigh dramatically but Trey shakes his head.

"Something tells me they won't be enjoying this treat." He smiles again.

Suddenly, across the room, you can hear a chorus of "ewwww"'s followed by some coughing and gagging. You gape and turn back towards Trey.

"What did you change the taste to?" You ask in interest but he merely winks at you.

"I have no clue. It's just supposed to be chocolate." He responds innocently. His smile turns into a frown as he gently rubs the back of your head where you were hit.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. Though if it's any consolation, Riddle will probably deal with them after he finds out just how severe their lack of manners are." Trey offers.

You think his caresses on your head like you're something that needs care is consolation enough. But you don't say that, instead leaving your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. Trey closes the textbooks and wraps an arm around your waist, done with studying for today but he didn't need an excuse to want to hang out with you.

Jade Leech

You finish taking a couple's order down on the notepad Azul provided to you and walk back towards the kitchen. You've been taking a couple shifts at the Mostro Lounge in order to pay off some of the damage Grim has caused by being...everywhere. Azul was benevolent enough to take you in and you just managed to slip through signing a contract with him, much to his chagrin.

Jade took on the responsibility of showing you the ropes, a little too eagerly which you found suspicious. He did tell you everything there is to know about serving and walked you through it. He didn't get irritated after you accidentally dropped a dish or forgot to add an appetizer a table ordered. Or at least you assumed he didn't since his smile never changed. Though you did notice that waiters who messed up one too many times were taken to the back by Jade. You hope that'll never happen to you.

You pass by Jade as he carries an abnormal amount of plates on his arms towards a table. He nods at you with his smile, not a hint of strain on his face.

"You have a new group at table 13. They can get a bit unruly so I'll-" Jade starts but you take the plates containing drinks off his hand.

"No, I got it! Thanks, Jade!" You tell him before dashing off to table 13. While you are definitely in this for the money, you also couldn't help but want to impress Jade and show him that his training was not in vain.

As you approach the table, you can already hear the group of boys chatting and laughing. You set the drinks down and give them a smile, readying your notepad.

"Are you guys ready to order or do you need more time?" You ask.

"What does it look like?" A blondie responds dryly. The rest of the boys stare at you like they're wondering if you passed elementary school.

"That you're...ready?" You guess awkwardly. The blondie rolls his eyes and the rest scoff, their assumptions about your schooling seemingly confirmed.

"Obviously we need more time." Another says and you nod, turning around to leave.

"I'll be back soon then-"

"Where are you going? We're ready to order." You turn back around to find the blondie smirking. Your hands tighten on your notepad and you fight to keep your smile. How did Jade do this all the time?

"What can I get for you?" You keep your eyes focused on the notepad, hoping that will lower your irritation.

"Can I get...uh..." You listen to one of them mumbling before a loud yelp is heard. You look over to see Jade gripping the wrist of the blondie who is frozen in fear and wincing. His grip is so tight that the boy's hand is turning white. You also find that the hand being gripped is dangerously close to touching your bottom.

"Harassing waiters in our lounge is strictly against our policy. I'll have to ask you to leave." Jade says, still smiling as ever. Though this time, you could see the strain in him, not from fatigue but something more lethal.

"I-I wasn't-" The boy tries to plead but Jade only tightens his grip.

"Wasn't trying to touch them? Well, security cameras will be the judge of that." Jade responds and the boy breathes a little easier.

"And so will I." Jade adds before snapping the wrist of the blondie, causing him to scream in pain. The boy flies out of the booth and stumbles towards the exit, crying as he holds his flailing wrist. Jade turns back towards the group.

He doesn't have to say a word since the other boys quickly sprint out of the lounge. You look between the exit and Jade in shock.

"Uh, well, thanks, I think. That might've been a bit excessive..." You trail off and Jade merely wipes a spot on your shoulder one of the fleeing boys must have brushed past.

"Are you alright? You can take a break in the back. Azul does time them though." He tells you and you shake your head with a smile.

"I'm alright. I only have half an hour left anyways. Hopefully those guys won't be back." You eye the exit but Jade takes your arm and leads you to you next table.

"They have an incentive not to. And if they do," He leans down close enough so that you could see the sharp edges of his teeth, "You'll tell me, won't you?"

Floyd Leech

You sit at your desk in Professor Trein's class, listening to him drone on as you take down notes. You always tried hard to pay focus in classes, which annoyed a certain eel sitting right behind you. He often pestered you in this class and you wondered why he didn't have anything better to do, like pay attention.

As Trein turns around to write something on the board, something soft and crinkly hits the back of your head. You look behind you to see Floyd grinning and pointing at the floor. You roll your eyes as you see a crumpled up paper on the ground. Curiosity got the best of you and you open up the paper.

Bored??? I am! Let's ditch!

You write a big, fat NO over his words on the paper and throw it back at him. Trein faces the class again to lecture and you can practically feel Floyd's dramatic sigh as he flops back in his chair.

"Can I see your notes?" Your seatmate asks you as he peers over at your notebook. You scoot your notes closer to you. Just last week, your seatmate had 'accidentally' tripped you while you were walking up to the board.

"Haven't you been taking your own?" You mutter.

"Yeah, but I wanna see yours." The boy starts tugging on your notebook and you try to pull it back.

"No, would you let go?" You hiss as you try to keep hold of your notes. The boy grabs your wrist to try and pull your hand off but he freezes as a looming shadow falls behind him.

"Wanna use my notes? I've got plenty." Floyd grins, all teeth.

The boy stammers, unable to say anything. Floyd grabs his hair and yanks his head back, staring straight down at him.

"Can't hear me? Should I talk louder?" Floyd asks with a giggle as he pulls on the boy's hair harder.

"Leech!" Trein reprimands. Floyd huffs and lets the boy's hair go, sending him reeling into his desk. You glance back at Floyd.

"You didn't actually take any notes, did you?" You ask.

"Sure I did." Floyd hands you his notebook. There's a couple of bullet points about a new takoyaki recipe he wants to try. He also added some doodles of an eel and a tiny shrimp.

Rook Hunt

You sigh as you write your woes down into a journal you started keeping a couple months ago. A group of Pomefiore boys have been bothering you for a while. They constantly put down your looks, calling it critique without giving any helpful tips nor was any of it even asked for. Even when you tried to avoid them on your way to see the vice housewarden, they still managed to corner you every now and then.

You finish writing and toss your notebook on your desk that sits right under your window. You think things may be better tomorrow as you rest your head on your pillow.

***

You head down the path towards the illustrious path that houses the Pomefiore students. Rook had messaged you in the morning, urging you to come by and see a "most beauté activity". You have no idea what this entails but it might be worth checking out.

You find Rook in a grass clearing just behind the dorms. He has his fingers in a square shape as he gazes at something in the distance. He sees you and gasps in surprise, grabbing both of your hands in his.

"Mon lumière! I'm overjoyed that you've accepted my invitation!" Rook spins you around.

"I can tell," You laugh a little, "What's this activity though?"

"I'm glad you asked! You see, I've been wanting to sharpen up my archery skills. The art of the bow and arrow is simply dur mais juste." Rook tells you.

"And you remember I mentioned wanting to watch?" You guess.

"Exactement! I already have the targets set up and all you have to do for now is watch." Rook takes you further down the clearing and your eyes widen in horror. The Pomefiore boys that have been bothering you were tied up to a row of trees, their mouths gagged and a juicy, red apple sits precariously on each of their heads.

"...What is this?" You ask hesitantly.

"Like I said, mon lumière, target practice! Now stand behind me and watch as I pull the drawstring..." Rook's eyes are hyper focused as he points an arrow at one of the boys whose screams are muffled behind the rope.

"Rook, there is something very wrong here!" You shout in concern. He releases the tension in the bow and points the arrow at the ground. He stares at you for a moment before lighting up again.

"You're right! You should be the one pulling the arrow. Such an eye for beauty you have." Rook sighs happily as he stands behind you and places the bow and arrow in your hands. They shake unsteadily as you hold them. There was no way you were going to be able to hit the apples.

"Rook, this isn't-" You gasp as he uses your hands to pull the drawstring and the arrow shoots forward. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the sound of four consecutive hits.

You slowly open your eyes and see four arrows perfectly shot in the middle of each apple, no doubt due to magical intervention. The group of boys sob in fear, not realizing it wasn't their heads that got hit.

You take a deep breath and look behind you at Rook who seems as pleased as ever.

"Did you know those guys have been bothering me?" You ask with narrowed eyes.

"How would I know that?" Rook responds with a smile.

"So you just happened to pick them out?"

"I needed targets. Who better than those who can't appreciate true beauté?"

You'll be moving your journal to a more secure location.

[starrieangel]

🎮Mouthwashing Crew playing Minecraft with you🌾

I said I was gonna write it.. well here it is

Features: Curly & Reader, Anya & Reader, Daisuke & Reader, Jimmy & Reader

Tags: Could be read as Platonic or Romantic, Normal!Jimmy (lol)

rb if you like ♡!

Curly

Does Not understand

He's such a dad, he has no idea how to work this thing or why everything is blocks..? but you told him it's really fun, so he'll give it his best shot!

First thing he does: "Whats this thing?" *runs directly up to creeper*

"Why did he do that to me !!? I was just saying hi D:"

He gets the hang of it pretty quickly after that, though. You get distracted mining and when you come back he has a double chest full of nothing but oak logs (He thinks the game is just about chopping trees)

Gets uncharacteristically excited about seeing a fox for the first time; spends next 30 minutes trying to make it his pet

Eventually gives up, and you don't even end up building anything out of the logs, you guys just end up watching a movie afterwards. He's says next time, you guys are gonna build a big house! (Spoiler: he builds a giant cube house out of nothing but wooden planks)

Anya

A thousand times worse than Curly, except she's played this game so many times before she. really has no excuse to be this bad

Gets scared because she's only ever played on peaceful mode...

Spends the whole time gathering animals. Let the woman farm!!!

Would also probably build pixel art out of the wool from her sheep farm

Long story short, there is a funeral, eulogy, and headstone for her late cat. You swear you dont know how that lava got there...

Ends up noping out of the game after you make her go to the nether for the first time XD

Daisuke

Grew up with this game, has beaten it more times than he count

He lets you build the base and decorate it while he mines, or you both go on epic cave adventures..!!

Soo so many funny moments involving falling into giant pits, burning in lava, being exploded... etc.

Daisuke screams into the mic a loooot. Like, a lot. Look up perfectly cut minecraft screams, that's how he plays this game

You end up playing. FOR HOURS

Daisuke is still finishing up his nether hub, its almost 2 am, and you are so so tired... he tells you to get some sleep, while he finishes building..!! When does this guy sleep..?

Jimmy

Does anyone else get the feeling Jimmy plays COD with his headset plugged into his xbox 360 controller or is that.. just me ???

Yes he's tried the game a few times, but he's always thought it was more for kids. Plus he hasn't seen any of the updates since the original console release, so he gets on and is like "Wtf is this shit"

Tries to fight the warden ... does not pick up on the sound mechanic at all ... tries to collect honey ... insta killed by swarm of bees ... and other similar misfortunes befall poor Jimble

You guys don't even make it to the nether before he decides maybe you should play something else XD

Ends up waking you up from rage quitting CS:GO (You fell asleep after he forced you to watch him play)

🎮🌾⛏️

Let me know what you thought in the replies and if u liked it !! or send me an ask with your mouthwashing headcanons ♡♡

[hayakawalove]

Cravings

Summary: Suguru decides he wants to quit smoking, but he can't do it without the help of his partners.

A/N: ME WRITING A POLY SATOSUGU FIC? UNHEARD OF... No but I know it's been awhile, I'm sorry. I am going to get back into them once kinktober is done. This fic isn't super long or descriptive, I just wanted to write something simple from an idea I had. I hope you enjoy! Comments are appreciated!

CW: SFW, Fluff, Slight Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Polyamory, Suggestive Themes, Smoking, Addiction, Food, Cigarettes, Alternate Universe, Supportive Partners, Gender Neutral Reader W/C: 3,136

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

“Are you sure about this?” Satoru asks, leaning against the door as he watches Suguru. 

Suguru looks up from the fridge, his lips pulled down in a slight pout. He doesn’t know how cute he looks like that. 

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Satoru tosses a look your way before rolling his eyes. The glance was worth a thousand words. You chuckle to yourself and pick at your pants, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“I don’t know. Maybe cause you’ve smoked since you were in highschool?” 

Suguru stands up at that, knocking the fridge door closed with his hip. He’s holding a multitude of ingredients in his hands, all things required for your meal. He sets them down on the counter with a grunt, before looking over his shoulder at Satoru. 

“If you don’t have any faith in me, just say that.” 

The words don’t cut like they should. His voice is soft around the edges, the comment may even be mistaken for a joke. It might be an attempt at humor on Suguru’s part, but you can tell there’s underlying truth there. 

“No, no I do. But you know… in case you don’t make it,” Satoru says your name. “Wanna place a bet?” 

Suguru raises a brow at Satoru before scoffing, shaking his head as he looks down to start on lunch. 

As funny as that would be, you can’t bring yourself to do it. You knew Suguru was going to struggle, and you couldn’t bet on his downfall. 

Not in good faith, anyway. 

“Don’t be mean, Satoru.” You murmur, standing up to patter over towards Suguru. 

His bottom lip is jutted out ever so slightly, creating a minuscule frown on his face. If you didn’t know him any better, it would be easy to miss. But you do know him. And you know him well. Satoru’s commentary was getting to him. He must actually be nervous about the situation, and that fact tugs at your heart strings. 

“I for one think Suguru is more than capable.” You wrap a hand around Suguru’s slender waist, pulling him beside you. 

From the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of a smirk on his face. You return the act, letting your lips brighten up. Satoru rolls his eyes playfully before taking a seat at the bar across from you. He rests his head on his hand, watching the two of his lovers in front of him. 

“Thank you, baby.” Suguru speaks with such reverence it almost makes you flustered. 

“I believe in him too! It’s just surprising is all.” Satoru says. “This came out of nowhere.” 

It did. You were sort of curious what spurred the moment on, but you figured Suguru would tell you if it was relevant. 

Suguru looks slightly uneasy, reaching around to scratch at his neck. You watch the movement carefully, well versed in his body language enough to know that something is up. 

“Well I mean, it’s bad for you isn’t it?” He begins. 

It was. 

“Yeah, but that’s never stopped you before.” You murmur. 

“They’re also gross too, if that’s any consolation.” Satoru leans back in his chair. 

They were. 

Suguru chuckles and leans forward, propping himself up with his arms against the countertop. He still looks like he's thinking about something you're not privy to. 

“I just want to be healthy with you guys.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. 

You and Satoru share a look. It was a moment of tenderness that was normal coming from Suguru, but it still struck you in the heart nonetheless. You reach up and run an arm down Suguru’s bicep, smiling brightly at him. The act doesn’t ease his nerves like you were hoping it would. You nibble the inside of your cheek and pinch his hip before bringing your hand back. Suguru jumps slightly at the action before returning to cooking. 

“So, are you scared?” You ask, curiosity leaking from your tone. 

“I’m not scared,” His tone wobbles at the end. “I’m just…anxious.” 

Satoru’s eyes flit between the two of you while he bounces his leg out of habit. 

“Do you have anything to use as backup? For when you get the cravings?” You ponder.

Suguru’s expression is thoughtful for a moment. He always thought things through, so you were sure he would have some type of plan. 

“No, not really. I was planning on quitting cold turkey.”

You hum at that, rounding the counter to sit next to Satoru. It’s easy to tell that Suguru wants to drop the topic by the way he's avoiding your gaze, so you do, if only for his sake. 

~~~

It’s been two weeks. 

It’s a quiet evening. The lights are dimmed and the room is silent between you and Suguru. The two of you sit on the couch in the living room, keeping yourselves entertained. You scroll through your phone with your feet propped up in Suguru’s lap, while he sits next to you with a book in his hand. It’s a well loved novel, the edges of the papers crinkled from years of use. 

Every few seconds you feel his fingers strum against your ankle, the touch so light it almost feels nonexistent. It’s peaceful. 

Suguru’s more or less been doing good in his endeavor. He's been a bit more antsy, a bit more jittery. But he hasn't relapsed, not even once. 

Satoru walks in, strolling leisurely until he plops on the other side of the couch beside you. Suguru briefly looks up with an eyebrow raised before returning to his book, an unamused expression on his face. 

“What’re you guys up to?” Satoru asks, his voice loud, reverberating off the walls. 

You’re engrossed in your phone, so you decide to let Suguru respond. 

“Reading.” His voice is short. 

Satoru plays with your hair for a moment before leaning over to grab the tv remote. He turns it on, either willfully ignoring or not noticing the glare Suguru sends his way. 

“Turn it down.” Suguru says, keeping his eyes focused on the novel in front of him. 

If you look close enough, you can see the twitch of his eyebrow. 

Satoru’s face changes to incredulous. “What? No. I wanna watch something.” 

“Satoru,” Suguru warns, speaking calmly. 

“It’s just this part that’s loud, it’s gonna be quiet again, hold on.” Satoru murmurs, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. 

“I said turn it down!” Suguru’s voice raises. 

The room stills immediately. Suguru never raised his voice. You’ve known him for countless years, and never once has he yelled. You peer around your phone at him before looking back at Satoru, half afraid a fight would break out. 

You’re expecting Satoru to at least look slightly bothered, but he doesn’t. His mouth is straight, and his eyes are the same as they always are, wide with curiosity. You would almost think he hadn’t heard Suguru. He did though, as Satoru turns the tv off and stands up straight. 

Suguru looks mortified. His eyes are like saucers, with his bottom lip trembling. You think it may have bothered him more than anyone else. 

“Satoru, I” he begins to chew the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry,” 

Satoru gives a toothy grin as if nothing had happened. Under any other circumstance, the moment would have been a cause for concern. Suguru would only get visibly upset if something was wrong. But the two of you were expecting this. You were expecting his fuse to be a bit shorter, his temperament to be a bit worse. 

Satoru saunters over to you, lifting your chin up to place a kiss against your lips. It's gentle, nothing at all like what you’re used to coming from him, before he pulls away. 

“Cranky, aren’t we?” He directs at the other man, stepping over towards Suguru. 

Suguru’s watching with wide eyes. He doesn’t really know what to expect. Satoru’s a wild card even on his good days, especially on his good days. 

Satoru lowers himself to Suguru’s eye level before wrapping his hand around the back of his neck. He gives a little squeeze, not hard by any means but it catches Suguru off guard. Satoru brings his face close to Suguru’s, close enough that they share the same air. Suguru’s unconsciously leaning forward, the magnetic pull of Satoru’s lips too hard to resist. 

Unfortunately for Suguru, Satoru likes to play a bit too much. He pulls away before the two of them connect, an evil smirk on his face as he appreciates the confused look on Suguru’s features. 

You can almost hear the cogs in Suguru’s brain turning. He's realizing he got swindled, by his own fault of course. 

“I'm going to go watch tv in the bedroom, let me know when Suguru decides to behave.” 

Well that was rich coming from Satoru of all people. 

Satoru takes his leave as the two of you watch. It was hard not to feel bad for Suguru. It wasn’t necessarily his fault he was in a bad mood. 

“Hey, you know he’s just teasing.” You aren’t sure why you’re telling Suguru that. 

You’re sure he knows Satoru isn't being serious, but his bottom lip is still jutted out in a pout. 

Suguru flicks his eyes over to you before back down, where he skims through the book. He must be embarrassed. There's a distinct pink tint covering his cheeks and he looks jittery. Suguru never lost his cool, so you can only imagine how he feels now. 

Luckily for him, it doesn’t change your opinion of him at all. 

You toss your phone beside you before making your way over to his side of the couch. The well loved piece of furniture creaks slightly as you crawl towards him. Suguru doesn’t know what you’re doing, but he still sets his book aside. He purposely avoids your eyes while you ease on his lap, his hands grasping at your waist to settle you. You almost want to tease him a bit too, but you aren’t Satoru. You’ll wait until he’s more stable. You don't have the heart to tease him when he looks so fragile. 

“That was kinda mean of him, huh?” You murmur, keeping your voice low. 

He looks so disappointed in himself. You bite back a coo, your body nearly threatening to let it loose. 

Suguru finally meets your eyes. Pool of caramel stares right back into yours, making your stomach flip. Even if he was grumpy, he was still cute. You grab onto the front of his shirt, twisting it in your hands. He hums in response, partially because while it was mean, Satoru wasn't wrong. 

“Are you craving a cigarette right now?” 

“I'm always craving one, that’s the problem.” His voice sounds like it means to be agitated, but instead it comes off annoyed. Not at you, never at you. 

“What about it are you craving?” You ask, playing with one of the dark strands of his hair. 

He never takes his eyes off you, even when you’re looking away. 

“The taste.” 

For a second you think he may be lying. Who would want the taste of a cigarette? But when you look at him you notice he’s being completely sincere. You suppose after years of use, the flavor may be comforting. 

You lean forward, letting your lips graze against his. Instead of following Satoru’s lead, you press your mouth against Suguru. He greedily accepts, leaning into you a bit more than he usually does. Typically, he's the calm and composed one. Suguru breathes harder as his lips attach to yours, as if he’s holding himself back from devouring you whole. There’s a notable lack of tobacco on his breath. The taste of your peach lip balm bleeds into his mouth, coating his lips and gums until it's all he can taste. 

When you pull away he almost looks delirious. He's panting a bit and his eyes are low. “What was that for?” He questions, darting his tongue out to lick up your saliva that paints his bottom lip. 

“So you can focus on the flavor of something else instead.” 

If you were to peer inside Suguru, you would see how he wants to consume you whole. You would see how his chest aches to have you completely. 

But you can’t see inside him. 

Suguru attempts to play it cool, letting a gentle smile spread over his mouth as he reaches up to fix your hair. You lean into the touch, feeling relieved that your Suguru is back. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He says lowly, gratitude obvious from his words. 

You couldn’t take away the pain completely, but you could at least do this much.

~~~

“Plus, Shoko is being the worst about it. I swear she’s smoking more just to tick me off.”

“I'm sure she doesn’t mean to. She probably wants to quit just as bad.”

The silence between you is deafening. She definitely didn’t want to. 

“You know she doesn’t.” Suguru replies, unconvinced with your words. 

You can’t really argue there. 

“Okay, but just ignore her!” 

The hum of the cars driving by fills the air around the two of you as you wait outside the convenience store. Satoru all but dragged you both here, telling you to wait outside while he grabbed something. Suguru leans against the wall, trying not to eye the poor soul who was squatting several feet away and lighting up. 

A special form of torture. 

To distract him you bury yourself in his chest, hugging until he relents and wraps his arms around you. The air is slightly chilly, but that feeling immediately dissipates the second he engulfs you. You push your face against his chest and inhale, breathing in the sweet scent of your laundry detergent. Normally, his clothes smell reminiscent of tobacco, the scent never welcoming on its own but because it belonged to Suguru you liked it. Now, your lungs are filled with only his cologne and deodorant. 

“Are you smelling me?” He asks with a cocked brow, petting your back and looking down at your head. 

“No-“ your voice is slightly hard to hear against his body. 

At that, you take another large sniff to which he clicks his tongue and squeezes you against him tighter. A bell sounds out, signaling the door next to you was opening. Satoru comes waltzing out with a noisy plastic bag, shaking it around to announce his arrival. 

“Hey lovebirds,” he comments, voice muffled due to the lollipop sticking from his pink pouty lips. 

Suguru breathes out a chuckle and reaches above your figure, not a hard feat by any means, and drags Satoru’s collar closer to the two of you. Satoru tugs the candy from his lips in preparation. His body collides with the back of yours, leaving you no room for escape as Suguru roughly kisses him. 

You wonder what the sight looks like to strangers. Is it weird? You don’t care. 

You pretend to flail around beneath them, but they ignore it. Satoru tenderly places a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he kisses Suguru. 

“Hey handsome.” Suguru speaks against Satoru’s lips.

Not only is he more grumpy, but he's much more forward now. Not that he was ever really subtle to begin with. 

Satoru steps back to give you space to which you gratefully accept, sticking your head up to take a deep breath of air. 

“Dramatic,” Satoru comments with a grin.

“Bite me-“ you taunt back. 

Satoru sticks his mouth open again, darting his bright red tongue out to lick the candy. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you assume that was probably his goal. He sticks the lollipop back in his mouth. 

“Careful. Maybe I will.” 

Suguru turns your body around and tugs you until your back lands against his chest. He rests his head on top of yours, using the height difference to his advantage. 

“What did you buy?” He questions, wrapping his arms around your stomach to keep you in place. 

“Something for you.” Satoru responds, talking around the candy in his mouth. 

“Any chance it’s a pack?” 

Satoru laughs at that. The sound is heavenly to you, its heartiness filling your body with love. “I’d die before buying one of those things.” 

Satoru seamlessly slides the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other, before looking down at the bag in his hands. It's droopy with weight, and curiosity has peaked in your veins. 

Satoru finds what he's looking for, producing another lollipop. It’s blue raspberry, you manage to read the label before he tears off the wrapping. 

“For you.” He says, stepping closer again. 

He shoves the candy into Suguru’s mouth, muffling the protests that were beginning to pour out. Satoru looks happy with himself as he stands back, admiring the sight in front of him. His two sweethearts. 

You look up, seeing the stick poke from Suguru’s lips. It’s reminiscent of a cigarette, but instead of being bitter and toxic it’s sugary and sweet. 

“I figured you might miss having something in your mouth. I even got the bag with your favorite flavor!” Satoru says with a grin. 

It’s a smart idea. 

Even if Suguru looks slightly irritated. 

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!” Satoru pouts. “I would offer to give your mouth something else, but we are in public.” 

Suguru scoffs, his eyes darting away. You can see the way he sucks the flavor from the candy, his jaw ticking as he thinks. 

“So, does it help?” The white haired menace asks. 

Suguru fiddles with the stick for a moment, debating on his response. “No.” 

That means it was helping. He looks a bit reluctant to admit it, but his shoulders sag slightly with relief. Suguru probably just didn’t want to tell Satoru. 

Satoru takes the hint and chuckles to himself before opening the bag again, pointing it in your direction. When you peer inside you see a multitude of sweets. Lollipops, chocolate, and popping candy fill the bag. The colors are bright, mixtures of red, blues, and yellows filling the plastic. 

It was a typical shopping trip for Satoru. 

You grab a strawberry lollipop and unwrap it before placing it in your mouth, the sweet flavor all but melting on your tongue. The three of you all match now, white sticks poking from your lips as you begin the long trek home. 

It was definitely hard for Suguru, but slowly it got easier. Blue wrappers take the place of empty cigarette cartons, the evidence littered throughout Suguru’s car and drawers. It’s hard work, but at least he has you and Satoru. Over time he gets better, with the help of peach lip balm and raspberry lollipops. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @kimi01985, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @mikisspeak, @dinolvrrr, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothiccwhore666, @bunviixo, @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

If you want to be added to my taglist please just let me know, just specify what you want to be added to

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Now that you are gone

please note that once again this is a very important topic this is the last part of this series. if you are not familiar with this series please check the warnings.

Dearest husband or should I say ex husband now that I am gone or will be gone by the time that you would have found this letter. I couldn’t do it anymore lando I saw the way you and charlotte were being burdened by my presence and just knew I had to leave.

You were never a bad husband just simply disappeared from our marriage.

Each day I crumbled infront of you and yet you stayed oblivious, it’s been over 3 months since we last shared a bed and I know you are disgusted by the thought of being with me now that I’ve let myself go, all I wanted was love but I guess it was too much to ask for.

Please don’t try and save me now that you’ve read this, I’ve been gone for far too long for you to simply try now. I know we promised forever to each-other but sometimes maybe it’s for the best that it ends early. Be there for charlotte don’t leave her alone you are the only thing she has left I doubt that she would even notice I’m gone.

I know you hated being told what to do but please make sure charlotte never finds out how I left it’s the only thing I will ask from you. I still love you I promise I just don’t love myself enough to say. The voices are getting too hard to block out.

Goodbye Lando Norris

When lando came home from the club he didn’t expect to be treated to the shrill cries of his daughter, he knew you’d be there to take care of her and had called out your name to make sure you were with her so that he could go lay down the amount of drinks he had plus the cries of his daughter made him want to throw up due to the intense headache.

little did he know everything was simply going to get worse for him.

After yelling your name for several minutes with no response he knew he had to deal with charlotte, muttering under his breath about how deaf you were being. He stomped up the hallway into little charlottes room and based of the little girls cries it seemed like she knew that she had just lost her mother. Nothing lando could do was able to console the destraught little girl. It took him an hour to get her down.

An hour which could have been used to save you.

Lando was blissfully unaware of the heartache that was going to be unleashed into his heart. He searched the house trying to find you and give you a piece of his mind.

When you were nowhere to be found he had the bright idea to check the cameras, and that lead him to his discovery. A rather shocking one that he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy.

In the middle of the bathroom deep within the bathtub laid his wife, his one anchor in life through everything the women he called everything laid there in tranquility. The water still and unmoving your body laid there lips blue and cold to the touch yet to lando you still looked like the prettiest women in the world. His mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening it wasn’t until it finally hit that you were not moving, this wasn’t some sick prank or a nightmare that he could wake up from this was his reality his wife was dead lying there cold and dead. The women he called his angel now was an actual angel. He had lost her he lost his love and he knew it was all his fault. He felt shame creeping up his neck knowing he was trying to find you to yell at you. His head shaked with the intensity of the situation.

It was the day after your funeral when lando had found the letter you had left for him and charlotte.

It broke lando to a different level, in his wife’s handwriting his sins were written, he and killed her he had killed you and each day he would pay for his sins.

You were always there, no matter where lando went there was a bit of you everywhere.

He couldn’t get rid of you, not that he wanted to either

The only words he could have muttered at your funeral were “it should have been me, I did it it shoukd have been me she wasn’t supposed to go so soon”.

16 years later

Little Charlotte Norris was not so little anymore, she was now a grown 17 year old girl with questions about her mothers sudden death.

Her entire life she had been shielded from the gruesome reality of how her mother died.

Her father whom she adored more than anything in the world hid the truth from her. Her mother didn’t simply die of a heart attack at 24 she died due to depression, and when Charlotte Norris unfortunately found out the bitter truth due to Lando’s negligence her world shattered.

Her father’s irresponsible behaviour killed her mother.

Landos midnight saddens had resulted in him forgetting to hide away the letters you had left for him and charlotte another careless mistake on his part which would result in him losing his daughter as well.

Charlotte was in tears when Lando returned and he just knew she had found out about everything he could simply feel it.

He tried to justify his actions and decisions blaming it on him being too young and not knowing what PPD was, unfortunately for him his little angel would hear none of it.

She had left lando just like you had.

Charlotte now went by your last name still blaming her father for the years of hurt you went through and how she had to grow up without a maternal figure, she didn’t know why but she always missed you and your soft face.

Your daughter had started up a foundation to help new mothers and fathers with postpartum depression and the anxiety new mothers face. This was the best tribute she would have ever come up with.

tagged -:

@yunnifer

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 16] Justifications

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Mrs. Gojo’s first reaction to finding her son in the hospital room isn’t one of worry– Rather, she’s curious. She wonders if you told him; she doubts you’re dumb enough to actually tell him, but he got here somehow. Instead of wondering how he found out, she should worry about how she’ll explain everything to her son. She can’t just throw you under the bus… Well, she can but it wouldn’t be right for her to do so.

Satoru is sitting down, his hands on his knees as he looks around the room. He contemplates everything. He questions every single relationship that he has. Shoko knew, and his mother, but who else? How many people are betraying him? How many people know the fact that he has a son? 

The man is nauseous at the mere thought that they faced him as if they weren’t hiding something that could turn Satoru’s life upside down. He hears his mother’s heels as she walks towards him but he can’t bring himself to look up at her. He’s never had a close bond with his mother, and at times he’s hated her presence; but nothing compares to now. Satoru has never hated being her son until now. 

“Satoru.” She doesn’t try to soften her voice when she talks to him. She probably should. She feels the hatred that radiates off her son, and she knows that maybe she should console him. She’s mostly at fault for how things played out. “How did you end up here?”

“That’s what you say.” His voice breaks and he takes a deep breath to compose himself. He won’t start crying in front of his mother, she doesn’t have to know how heartbroken he is. She should have an idea though because it’s no easy feat. “You knew about my son, you hid him from me on purpose, you let me find out on my own and your response is that.”

She stays quiet. Satoru will continue speaking and she won’t interrupt until he lets it all out. “I always knew you weren’t a star mother, but this? You’re the worst mother I’ve come across. You hid my son from me, and for what? Because you didn’t want your ideal plans to go to the trash?”

“You’re almost twenty-seven and you act like a child. You wouldn’t have been able to step up to the role. I did what was best for you, and for Ren and his mother.” She argues and he feels his blood boil. He’s never been so mad in his life.

“I wouldn’t have been like you. I wouldn’t have thrown my son to the help and let them raise him. I’m nothing like you, I would’ve been able to step up to the role. Ren would’ve actually felt me being present, and I would’ve loved him as much as I possibly could.” Satoru’s nails dig into the fabric of his pants. “No one is ready to be a parent. You learn along the way. I would’ve and am going to try my best, the same way you should’ve.”

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have your precious job title, Satoru. Watch how you talk to me.” She warns him, ignoring the guilt that runs through her veins. She focuses more on the fact that her son gives her attitude. 

“This is what you wanted! You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d give up everything for him. I knew you were fucked up but to this extent? You’re a wretched woman, I’m ashamed to call you my mother.” Satoru raises his voice, and silence follows. She doesn’t know how to answer. Satoru clears his throat, “For how long have you known? For how long have you known I have a son?”

“Almost a year.” She confesses, and maybe Satoru would’ve easily let it slide if it was something more recent. Well, she hired you for a reason, she’s known for as long as you’ve been working with her. Satoru takes a deep breath, trying his best to hold back the tears that fill up his eyes. 

“Shoko knows. She told me. Who else knows?” He asks, speaking slowly to contain his feelings. She shrugs, she doesn’t know who else knows. 

“I have no idea. I didn’t know Shoko knew.” She responds, walking over to stand next to Satoru. He glares at her, standing up. He can’t stand to breathe the same air as her for another moment. She watches him walk away and she asks, “What are you doing? Now is not the time to throw a tantrum.”

“A tantrum?! You hid my son from me and you’re calling this a tantrum?!” He yells. “You’ve known about my son for a year, you asked for him to be kept from me, and you’re calling this a tantrum? You’re fucking unbelievable. This is all your fault. You’ve been set on making me miserable ever since I was born.”

“Calm down, Satoru.” She says, and Satoru has to take another deep breath. He doesn’t even know how to respond to her. How dare she even suggest that? She must be out of her damn mind– No, she’s evil. He’s convinced she’s fucking evil.

“I’ll never forgive you for this. This is so fucked up, even for you.” Satoru steps out of the room. He needs a breath of fresh air, and he needs to take it all in. Gather his thoughts. 

He’s a father. He’s been one for the past four years. How does he handle it all? His mother betrayed him in the worst possible way. You betrayed him the worst possible way. But Satoru can somewhat understand why you stayed quiet. Not her though. Both reasons are selfish, but her selfishness is pure evil. 

“Satoru.” He hears your mother, and he stops walking. The tears that he’s been holding back finally slip out, and he wipes them away as your mother walks to him. Her hand goes to his arm and she squeezes it as a form of reassurance. “Let’s go grab a coffee, there’s a coffee shop nearby that’s open.”

“Yeah.” He tries to talk normally, and she gently smiles at him. They walk outside and Satoru follows your mother’s lead to the coffee shop. They walk in silence, and when they get there, Satoru pays for coffee for the both of them.

Once the coffee is in their hands, they sit in silence at a table. They came here to talk, yet Satoru is not going to spark up the conversation– At least Satoru assumes that they came here to talk. Your mother clears her throat, “I hope you can forgive my daughter for this… At the very least see her point of view.”

“I’ll try at the very least… I just thought she would try to tell me. I’m disappointed… and feel betrayed.” Satoru confides. He’s always felt like he could talk to your mother, she’s always been someone he can trust. He never went to his own mother for help, instead he went to yours. “I would’ve done anything for Ren, she knows I’ve always wanted to have a kid.”

“I remember the day my little girl called crying, telling me she was pregnant. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she didn’t know how to tell him. You were out of town, your mother fired me– I told my daughter I quit, but it wasn’t that. Your mother didn’t want me around, she started hating me the moment my daughter started to date you,” Your mother begins and Satoru listens attentively. 

“She tried to tell you, Satoru. You changed your number. You completely cut her off. She went to your house, and guess what your mother said to my pregnant daughter?”

“That I got married.” Satoru mutters, looking away since he’s too ashamed to look her in the eye. 

“And you know the damage that caused? She cried for weeks, but she managed to move on. She couldn’t dwell on you forever because she had a son to be responsible for. Maybe she should’ve told you when she saw you, but I understand she didn’t need you anymore.” 

“I didn’t get married because–” Satoru begins but your mother cuts him off. She doesn’t want to hear any justifications, she really doesn’t see any response that will make her feelings change.

“I don’t care why the hell you got married. I was rooting for you, Satoru. I was rooting for the two of you, but you showed me that you’re just like your selfish entitled family. You made me change my mind, you’re the last person I want near my daughter and my grandson.” Her words sting more than anyone’s because the woman that sits across from him practically raised him. “But I guess I have no other option. You are Ren’s father.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, causing her brows to raise.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” She answers before standing up. Satoru watches as she walks away, biting his quivering bottom lip. He shuts his eyes, trying not to begin crying in front of everyone. 

He’s tired. He should probably go home and take a nap, but he promised his son he’d be there when he wakes up. So he won’t leave until Ren sees him. Satoru stands up and goes back to the hospital.

You don’t talk to each other when you’re with Ren. Ren is filled with love, from both of his parents and grandmothers. He’s never been with them all at the same time, and he’s excited to be with them all even when he isn’t feeling too well. His father seems to have a lot of questions though, but Ren likes the attention.

Ren gets to talk about his birthday (which surprises Satoru since they have the same birthday), his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite toys, what he does when mommy is not home, what he does when mommy is home; Satoru tries to get to know all about Ren in a couple hours to make up for the past four years of his life. Satoru is overwhelmed with sadness, yet he’s never felt so happy before as he sits on an armchair, next to his baby boy. Ren holds his father’s hand, smiling when he’s never felt worse before. He’s just happy to meet the man that he’s been asking about.

Satoru spends the entire afternoon there, listening to Ren’s every request. He expected to spend the first day with his son in the hospital but not under these conditions. Regardless, Ren could be a newborn or a four-year-old, Satoru loves him either way. 

Ren yawns, and Satoru sheepishly smiles. He kisses the top of his son’s head. “How about you go to bed, buddy? You’re tired.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Ren says, and Satoru squeezes his hand. You swear you hear your heart break as you hear Ren’s words. You definitely fucked up.

“I’m not leaving, Ren. I’ll be by your side when you wake up, I promise.” Satoru assures him, and the man stays by his side until Ren finally falls asleep. Satoru doesn’t let go of Ren’s hand. You sit in silence for a moment as you try to decide what you’ll do next. Should you speak? Maybe you should… But what should you say? Maybe you should apologize, but you don’t have the guts to do it. 

“Who else knows?” Satoru whispers, not wanting to wake Ren up. He doubts that Ren will be waking up any time soon though, no matter how loud he is.

“Shoko and Suguru. And everyone that works at your house.” You answer. “I asked them not to tell, and I lied to Suguru so don’t be mad at them.”

“Did you… At least try to argue with my mother about telling me?” He hopes that you’ll say yes, so at the very least he can feel like you care about his feelings. He wants to hear that you tried a bit more. He’s filled with disappointment when you shake your head. He looks away from you, and back at Ren.

“How are you going to tell your wife?” You ask, and Satoru shrugs. That isn’t his main problem right now. Sayo can wait.

[m1guelsgf]

hii!! I was wondering if you could write a fic about Axel where he wins the sekai taikai and he ran over to y/n to hug her and kiss her and the rest of miagyi do people found out about the relationship. Thank you so much i love axel sm

surprises

axel kovacevic x reader

hope i did your request justice! this was fun! feel free to send more

it was no surprise that axel was one of the finalists. he was the only person in the whole sekai tekai tournament that didn't have one point against them. he was untouchable.

from your spot at the edge of the mat, between miguel and hawk, you watched the last match anxiously. it came down to robby v. axel and your team had no idea how hard it was to watch this match. they didn't know your loyalty had been split on their very first day in barcelona. you were lucky that there was so much drama between the miyagi do's, that they didn't pay much attention to your changes in mood around the iron dragons leader.

you and axel were dating.

it started on that first night, when everyone went to the tapas bar. ever since your conversation on the beach, followed by a long makeout session, you and him couldn't stop thinking of each other. it was driving the both of you mad so you had to do something about it. you were up all night that night just texting him and getting to know him.

now, you were watching him and robby on the mat and your stomach couldn't stop doing flips. you were hoping it didn't come down to this, because you didn't know who to root for. robby was your teammate and good friend. it should have been the obvious choice but at the same time, axel was your boyfriend. it didn't feel right to choose robby's side, even though you and axel both agreed not to tell anyone about your relationship until after the tournament.

you continued to watch the match. it was 2-2 and both robby and axel were not letting the other get the last point. axel had the height but robby had the agility. the both of them had no plans of letting up. axel's skill however, won in the end. robby was dropped to the mat with one kick, and finished with another kick.

"point! iron dragons, winner!"

the entire arena roared in cheers and applause. the sekai tekai was over. axel won. you were stuck for a moment, unable to decide whether you should console robby or cheer for axel. you stayed on your side, circling around robby with your team, still clapping your hands for the both of them. axel was being congratulated by his team at the same time.

"it's okay robby, you still did really good." you offered him a tight lipped smile.

miguel nodded in agreement. "yeah, he's been at this for way longer than all of us. at least you got those points on him."

"thanks guys." of course, robby was defeated but he was trying not to let it get to him.

just then, you saw axel walking towards you from his side of the mat. he moved through the crowd with determination. your heart began thumping against your chest and you almost didn't think it was real until he pushed past demitri and eli to get to you.

"what the hell man?" eli scoffed, ready to throw hands with the champion because emotions were still running high.

he didn't even give you a chance to speak before he grabbed you by the waist and leaned down to your height, taking your lips in a kiss.

you kissed him back, placing your hands on his arms. it was like everything else melted away in that moment. it was only a few seconds long but the both of you cherished it. he held you close while kissing you and eventually pulled away, not before placing a few gentle kisses against your lips. your brain was fuzzy and your vision was soft as he rested his forehead against yours.

"i couldn't wait any longer." he whispered, smiling cheekily. "sorry."

you almost forgot that you were surrounded by your teammates who just watched you swap spit with the leader of the enemy team. you leaned away from axel, just a little, to look at your teammates faces.

everyone was caught off guard. miguel and robby both had the same horrified look. eli and demitri were confused more than anything. sam was watching with an amused grin. she was the only one who noticed you staying up all hours of the night and throwing encouraging glances to the other side of the mat. they all looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain the scene that they had just witnessed.

you looked at axel and then you looked back to your teammates, unsure of where to start. "i know should have told you guys-"

"yeah, you should have told us." sam cut you off. "but i get why you didn't." she looked at everyone. "i mean come on guys. we were kind of a mess until now. if we found out that she was dating him, it would have buried us even deeper in stupid drama." everyone was still taking it all in.

"i didn't wanna throw us off balance even more." you nodded, looking at robby who couldn't even look at you without betrayal. he didn't know he was fighting your boyfriend out there and he felt like if he knew it would have changed things. "robby. i swear, it just happened."

"well, how did it just happen? you don't see devon macking it with kwon because it just happened." robby shot at you. he felt decieved and honestly you understood. you would feel the same if you were in his shoes.

"ew, robby." tory came from behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "devon has standards." robby managed to relax a bit with tory at his side.

"i'm with robby." miguel shrugged. "i wanna know how this happened." he pointed at you and axel. axel still had his arms around you, holding you close to him.

"it started when we went to the tapas bar-"

"on our first day? man european's move fast." demitri shook his head in disbelief and then noticed everyone was looking at him. "continue."

you were about to speak but axel beat you to it. "we met on the beach. we talked and... i really liked her. i couldn't just let her go."

"i wasn't expecting axel and he wasn't expecting me either. it just happened." you smiled at axel and then at your teammates. "i didn't want to lie to you all."

"but you did." robby narrowed his eyes at axel.

"ah, leave 'em alone." johnny lawerence's voice got all of your attention's. "he's the sekai tekai champion. at least she's not dating another one of these losers."

"johnny." daniel larusso scolded. "you just called your son a loser."

"shit. not you robby."

"i know, dad." robby rolled his eyes and waved the two sensei's off.

"so are you switching teams, or...?" demitri asked and you immediately shook your head no.

"of course not. just because we're dating doesn't mean we need to train at the same dojo." you looked at axel. "tory and robby aren't in the same dojo anymore."

"yeah, but that's different." robby started, although once he said it he knew it wasn't all that different.

"actually, i might be looking for a new dojo." axel spoke and glanced at all your friends faces. everyone was taking him in at a different pace. sam, devon, and tory already liked him for you. demitri and eli were still confused as to how they missed it. robby and miguel were the most cautious of axel. both of them had been dealing with axel's agression the most, robby dealt with it on the mat and miguel was the subject of a lot of jealous stares after a brief misunderstanding (axel didn't like the way miguel adjusted your headband for you).

everyone now looked at robby to give some sort of approval of the situation. robby wasn't unreasonable. he was probably the most forgiving person on the team considering everything he's been through.

"only you would come back from barcelona with a new boyfriend." he shook his head, smile creeping up on his face. he was still a little bitter about the match, yes, but he also had never seen you that happy before and he wasn't gonna be the one to take it away from you.

axel could tell that having your friends on your side was really important to you. once everyone was smiling and the tension passed, he took the opportunity to kiss you again in front of your friends and the rest of the arena.

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 12 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi

part xii (opening presents)

“What?” Spinner asks anxiously. “Do you think it’s too much or something?”

“Um – no.” You’re definitely lying. You can barely see Spinner around the enormous box he’s carrying. You’re not sure if he can see anything, either. “I mean, it’s the last Secret Santa gift of the year. Go big or go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spinner agrees. He sounds relieved. “And after what happened – she deserves something extra nice, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

You weren’t sure how Spinner would react to the news that Aiba and her boyfriend have broken up – or rather, that Aiba dumped him when she found out about the kiss. You know people who’d have been happy to find out that the person they’d liked from afar was finally single. But Spinner wasn’t happy. He looked so unhappy when he found out that Twice elbowed him and said he’d never seen anybody be that upset over good news.

Spinner stared at him like he was crazy. It’s not good news, he said. She’s really sad. Why would I be happy about her being sad?

Spinner’s a good guy, and you’re pretty sure the giant gift he’s carrying is something he bought before the mistletoe-day disaster. When you look around the ballroom where the party’s being held, you see a lot of giant gifts, enough that going all-out with the last gift must be a tradition or something. It’s a tradition, and you missed the memo. Your last gift for Tomura is small enough to fit in your purse.

It was hard to find, and you’re pretty sure you outed yourself as Tomura’s Secret Santa to Spinner in the process of figuring out what “video games” meant on Tomura’s list. Tomura apparently has a thing for retro consoles, and retro consoles only play old games. Spinner mentioned a game Tomura’s been half-assedly searching for since last year, and you decided to find it. It took a lot of time spent scrolling on Ebay and picking through thrift store discount bins, but you finally found it, and you even found an old console to test it on to make sure it worked. You were really excited to give it to him until you got here and saw what everybody else did.

But it’s too late to change anything now. You’re here with your tiny gift, and Tomura’s going to think you didn’t try at all. If he’s even here. “Do you know if Tomura’s going to be here?”

“Last I heard, yeah,” Spinner says. “He changes his mind last-minute about stuff, though. I can text him if you want?”

“I have his number,” you say. “I can do it.”

You can, but you won’t. You know Tomura hates parties, and you don’t want to put his maybe liking you to the test against how much he hates getting dressed up and going out. It’s what kept you from asking him yourself, even though the two of you have been texting more than two people who see each other every day at work really should. The only person who brought up the party was him, when he asked if you were going. You said yes, and then he asked why. There’s going to be free food, you said. And I want to meet my Secret Santa.

As far as you can tell, most people have at least some idea of who their Secret Santa is, but you don’t have a clue. Your Secret Santa’s never written a note to go with any of their gifts, and nothing about the gift-wrapping style – or lack thereof, with the first few gifts – has given them away. The only thing you know is that they haven’t been following your hyper-specific list to the letter. While everything they’ve gotten you has been on the list, it’s all been an upgrade from the versions you asked for.

So they’re generous and bad at wrapping gifts. That could describe half the office. You’d like to know who it is, and there’s free food, so you’re here. And if you might have dressed up a little more than you usually would for an office holiday party on the off chance that Tomura makes an appearance, you’re going to keep that to yourself. Nobody has to know. And you can have fun at the party whether or not he’s here.

It is a really nice party – probably the nicest one you’ve ever been to. The decorating committee went berserk, to the point where there are multiple live Christmas trees on each wall and food tables on either end of the ballroom, each stocked with its own chocolate fountain and champagne tower. There’s music, which Yamada apparently arranged for but isn’t actually performing. Yamada’s in a good mood. When you run into him while trying to grab a glass of champagne, he grins at you. “Next year. Acapella. Are you in?”

“Ask me next year,” you say. “Once the holiday spirit’s worn off.”

Yamada cracks up at that, snags two glasses of champagne, and speeds off through the crowd. You finally manage to separate one for yourself and get clear of the table. Half a glass of champagne later, you’re ready to mingle. Time to see if participating in the office’s holiday traditions as a way to make friends actually worked.

It feels like it did. People say hi to you, and when you stop to talk to them, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. You’re willing to admit that some of it might be because you’ve all been drinking a little bit, but at the same time, you’ve gone to office parties where people were drunker than this and still silent as the grave. Some of your coworkers have already found out who their Secret Santas are, and some of them are carrying gifts that look even more over-the-top unwrapped than they did when they were covered in festive wrapping paper. Maybe it’s better if Tomura doesn’t show up. You can find a bigger gift and leave it on his desk next week, and no one will have to know that you messed up.

You cross paths with Tomura’s friends here. They’re all dressed up, probably more than anyone else at the party, although it looks more like they’re here for a costume party than a Christmas party. “Like it? It’s an Enji’s credit card special,” Twice says, tugging at the lapel of his purple suit. “He really wanted Dabi to come home for Christmas this year.”

“Did you?” you ask Dabi.

“Yeah, but I brought everybody with me,” Dabi says. Everybody. Even – “Shigaraki, too. He hates this shit, but he never misses a chance to stick it to somebody else’s shitty dad.”

“It was fun this year,” Magne says. “Fuyumi made us our own stockings and everything. That thing was nicer than any of my actual socks.”

“It sounds fun,” you say.

“Could have been worse,” Dabi says. He glances at you. “What did you do?”

You didn’t, really, which is the other reason you’re here – Christmas alone in your apartment was fun or at least peaceful the first few years, but lately it’s been feeling lonely. “Not too much. I just slept in and then came here.”

Tomura’s friends exchange glances. “Next year you’ll hang with us,” Twice announces. “You can still sleep in. We always show up late anyway.”

“You don’t have to invite me,” you say at once. You must have sounded a lot more pathetic than you meant to. “And Twice, you probably shouldn’t invite me to Dabi’s house –”

“First, it’s not my house,” Dabi says. “Second, I invite whoever I want. The more of my friends I bring, the more uncomfortable I make my jackass of a father. As long as you don’t hit on my sister –”

“Come on, that was one time,” Twice protests.

“Yeah, one time too many –”

You sidle sideways out of the conversation while they’re still debating exactly how many times one of Dabi’s friends have made a pass at his siblings. Dabi probably didn’t mean the invitation. You won’t count on it. But it’s nice that they’re thinking about it tonight. Hearing it makes you feel a little better, even if it’ll evaporate well before next Christmas.

The party ebbs and flows around you. Sometimes there are people dancing, but other times, the music quiets enough to let people talk. There are fewer and fewer unopened gifts floating around. You see Spinner still toting his gift for Aiba, which means that Aiba’s either not here or he just can’t see her around the box. The latter seems more likely to you. She’s really tiny. No matter where you look, there’s no sign of Tomura.

You do find Aiba, though, when you stop by the chocolate fountain. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hide. “Hi,” you say, and she looks up. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t seen him.”

“He said he wouldn’t come to it,” Aiba says. She looks like she didn’t sleep well last night, but her outfit’s on point. “I’m not worried about him. I’m just not very – fun right now. I only came to it because I wanted to meet my Secret Santa.”

“Really?”

“I thought the Secret Santa was going to be ruined because of – him. But then I found out it wasn’t him,” Aiba says. You nod. “And that makes it – nicer, I think. All the gifts I got were perfect, and none of it had anything to do with him. So there’s still one part of my Christmas that’s nice. I want to say thank you.”

Spinner had better have a game plan. “They haven’t come to talk to me yet, though,” Aiba says. She frowns. “Do you think they’re even here?”

“I know they’re here,” you say. “If you stay here, I can go find them and tell them to come over.”

Aiba nods. “Thank you,” she says. “And thank you. For the other day. That was nice, too.”

“No problem,” you say. “Just stay there.”

Courtesy of the giant present, Spinner’s really easy to find. You give him specific directions to where Aiba’s standing, tell him to take it easy, and wish him luck. As you watch him go, you find yourself wondering what’s in the box. Maybe you should have asked. It would have given you a better idea about the kind of thing you should have gotten for Tomura.

“Hey.”

That’s Tomura’s voice. You turn and find him standing behind you, a haphazardly wrapped present in one hand. You feel a temporary surge of relief at the sight. He got something small, too. At least you aren’t alone in totally missing the boat. But then you take a look at the rest of him, and the relief evaporates into something you can only describe as a kind of awestruck surprise. Tomura cleans up nice. Really nice.

Like the rest of his friends, he’s dressed up. Unlike the rest of them, he went pretty standard with it – black suit and tie, although he’s got a red cape around his shoulders. It should be incongruous, but he makes it work. He’s done something to his hair. Brushed it, maybe. Either way, it looks good. You can’t help but stare.

But even though he looks great – he has to know he looks great, right? – he doesn’t look quite comfortable. Maybe because you’re staring at him, and you haven’t said a word. “You look really nice,” you say, and a faint flush comes up in his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you were coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” Tomura says, and your face turns red, too. “I want to meet my Secret Santa.”

That’s you. You and your stupid gift that’s too small. “Right,” you say. You fumble in your purse and pull it out, then offer it to him. At least you did a decent job wrapping it. “It was me. I’m your Secret Santa. Here.”

Tomura takes the gift, then holds out the one he’s carrying to you. You did a decent job wrapping it; he probably needs both hands to get it open. “The wrapping on this looks nice,” you say nonsensically while he picks at the tape on yours. “You don’t have to open mine right now. You probably want to give this to the person you were Secret Santa for.”

“I just did.”

It takes way too long for you to figure that one out. “Wait, it was you?”

“You didn’t guess?” Tomura looks almost affronted. “I figured out you were mine days ago.”

“How? Was it my handwriting on the notes?”

“No,” Tomura says. He gives you a weird look. “I wrote on my list that I hate the cold, but I don’t tell anybody that. The only way you would have known is if you got my list.”

“Oh.” You would have thought the thing that gave you away would be bigger than that – like getting too familiar in your notes, slipping up and using his given name and not going back to his surname when you realized your mistake. “Okay.”

“You really didn’t know it was me?” Tomura’s stopped trying to open your gift for the sole purpose of staring at you. “I thought Dabi gave me away. When he was talking about how shitty I am at wrapping gifts.”

You vaguely remember a joke Dabi made. You really shouldn’t have had so much champagne. “Sorry. I should have thought about it a little more.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “A bad surprise?”

“No,” you say at once. “A good surprise. But – you could have just told me it was you. Then you wouldn’t have had to come to the party.”

“This is what you’re doing.”

“I know, but we could have done something else. Something you wouldn’t hate as much.”

“I don’t hate it as much as last year,” Tomura says. He nods at the gift. “Are you going to open that or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say thank-you when you don’t know what it is,” Tomura says. “Just – open it.”

You don’t have any idea of what it could be. You know Tomura’s gone through everything on your list already. His wrapping job is easier to get through than yours. You peel back the paper and untie the ribbons and find yourself holding a hat.

It looks sort of like your hat. The one you gave him. But you found that hat on sale somewhere, ages ago, and this one is a lot nicer. Yours is just knitted, but this one has a soft lining, and the fabric on the outside feels like it might be water-resistant. It also has a goofy little pompom on it, which yours definitely doesn’t have. This isn’t anything you’d have bought for yourself. But you like it a lot.

You look up, ready to thank Tomura, and find him staring down at your gift, unwrapped in his hand. “You didn’t leave a note,” he says. “I like the notes.”

You’d facepalm if you weren’t holding the hat. “I thought I would just say what I would have said in the note to you. Face to face.”

He looks up. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve seen that look on anybody’s face – wary, expectant, maybe surprised, maybe hopeful. You should have planned what you were going to say a little better. Before you can say anything, though, Tomura speaks up. “How did you know about this game? I’ve been looking for it. Where did you even find it?”

“I found it on Ebay,” you say. “It wouldn’t have shipped in time, so I picked it up in person. I made sure to test it. It works. And as far as finding out about it – I asked Spinner about the kind of games you liked. I wanted to get it right.”

“I half-assed my list. Why would you try that hard?”

“I just – I don’t know,” you say. “I know Toga kind of bullied you into doing this. I wanted you to get something nice out of it. Sad Christmas might make more sense to you – and me, sometimes – but I thought it would be nice for you to have a happy one.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Tomura hasn’t told you a lot about his background – you’ve really only gotten close recently – but what you know isn’t good. It’s dumb of you to think that one video game and a handful of other gifts could rewrite any of that. You avert your eyes in a hurry. “Thank you for the hat. I didn’t mean to make you go off-list.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tomura says. “I just thought you needed a new one. Since I’m keeping yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You are?”

“If you weren’t lying when you said it looked okay,” Tomura says. His hand brushes against your jaw, then applies pressure, turning you back to face him. He looks almost frustrated, but his face is flushed in a way you recognize. “And if you like me.”

“Do you like me?” you ask without thinking, and Tomura kisses you.

You’ve been regretting not giving him a real kiss under the mistletoe at work, but now you think it’s for the best that you didn’t. You haven’t had very many good first kisses, and you want a chance to savor this one. You wrap one arm around Tomura’s waist and pull him a little closer, and even though he startles, he keeps kissing you. He’s not hesitant, so you aren’t, either. There’s no way you’re going to be the first one to pull away.

When you do separate, it’s at the same time, and for what you’re pretty sure is the same reason. The music’s kicked back up. “Is that the stupid Grinch song?” Tomura asks, and you nod. He’s ever so slightly out of breath. He looks kind of flustered, but not nearly as much as you want him to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I mean, I could always sing All I Want For Christmas Is You again –” You see the face Tomura’s making. “I’m kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says. He unwraps your hand from around his waist, then keeps holding it as he leads you towards the doors. “It doesn’t matter, if you’re coming with me.”

The wind hits you in a sharp blast as soon as you’re outside, and you pull your new hat on one-handed. “Maybe somewhere warm?”

Tomura pulls on your hand, and when you turn towards him, he kisses you again. Now that you’ve got both your hands free and you’re not in the middle of a crowd, you can kiss him how you want to – one arm around his waist, your other hand gathering up a few strands of his hair. Tomura’s breath catches, and a moment later, so does yours, and although it takes a while for you to separate again, you’re both out of breath when you do.

Tomura doesn’t go far. His arms are tight around you, and when he answers a question you’ve almost forgotten, you can feel his breath against your skin. “I’m warm enough.”

the end

<- part xi

[mochinomnoms]

I don't know if you've already answered this, but how would ptm go if Jade was the one reading Yuu's mind instead? Or if the ability switched over to him for some length of time, how would he use it?

I do have some ideas of how it can get switched over to other people in PTM, I just haven't decided how exactly. Though I have written two short drabbles about Riddle and Azul having Yuu's telepathy for a bit!

I think it would be funny if Jade somehow got their telepathy right around the time that Yuu is at the brink of insanity trying to figure out how to get Jade to confess to them (they can't comprehend doing it themselves, they chicken out).

Perhaps they unintentionally transfer their power one evening to Jade, after a study session, and when they wake up in the morning, they're panicking because they can't hear anyone's thoughts. Originally, this might have been a blessing, but they've gotten so used to it, it's been a habit to talk to their friends discreetly through it, and it's been their one-way ticket into Jade's heart! He might not have even liked them as much as he has without it (nevermind that his feelings were established well before their telepathy developed).

So they're walking around school, immensely distressed and getting spooky by everyone every minute. It's awful, Riddle tries to console them by telling them how much better it's going to be now that they don't have to deal with all of that extra stimulation feeding into their head.

When they talk to Azul about it later on, he surprisingly doesn't seem very surprised about it. He does advise that perhaps they limit their interactions with Jade, though he doesn't say exactly why. It makes sense to them though, they can't act accordingly to how Jade wants them, and if they start acting weird now it will ruin...whatever it is that the two of them have.

Of course, they both are in the same potionology group, so it's hard to avoid him. It's worse when Yev asks that the two of them go alone to the botanical gardens later to forage for some ingredients. You both show up separately, Yuu arriving before Jade.

They hate not being able to hear anyone, it would be so easy to sneak behind them. But really, they just are still distress about not being able to hear Jade.

Ugh, should I just be like super cool-faced? Will that throw him off? Maybe I should be cutesy? He likes cutesy, right? UGH! WHY DO I EVEN CARE NOW???

Yuu kicks at a rock in their path, huffing and stomping over to the magical herbs section.

I didn't even like him that much! Why do I even like him now? He thinks weird lewd thoughts about me and tries to get me alone with him to make them become real! That's weird! That should make me not like him, why do I feel the exact opposite!

They're so deep in their thoughts that they don't hear the footsteps behind them, though if Jade doesn't want to be noticed, then he won't.

Stupid! It's not fair, I want to kiss his stupid face and hold his stupid hand. Why can't he confess first? It's not fair, he's had feelings way longer than me! If he wants me, maybe he should initiate one of his stupid, lewd fantasies instead of just dreaming about it!

Yuu is well aware of the irony in their sentence, but they won't admit it. Not while they're pulling the vervian.

Hmph. My doesn't he take initiative, hmm? H-he's got that stupid long tongue, I've seen it! H-he can kiss me and m-make me all dizzy, a-and scrape those stupid teeth down my neck…Ja-Jade would be gentle…right? O-or maybe he'll be a little mean, and leave a mark as he goes further down and down and—

They choke on a scream as they feel a pair of hands grab them, one around their waist and another grasping their right hand.

“Oya~ You're quite the hypocrite, aren't you?”

Jade was purring in Yuu's ear, his breath fanning over their neck and making them shiver.

“J-Jade! What are you—”

“When I woke up this morning, I thought that perhaps I'd been cursed. It was like I was hearing everyone speak in layers, they'd say one thing, but mean another.”

A shuddering whimper left their mouth, their left hand clasping over, as Jade's lips pressed against the back of their ear.

“Huh? J-Jade this is really in—”

“Azul gave it away, of course. He's never been able to really hide his thoughts from Floyd and I. But add this sudden gift of, what do you call it...telepathy? And he's like a treasure chest that's been forced open and presenting me with a trove of knowledge.”

Yuu froze, icy cold fear coursing their veins as Jade's grip on them tightened. Like he knew that their flight response was gearing to go.

What. He's got—no, he doesn't—

“Yes, my pearl, it's exactly as you think!” Jade sighed, nuzzling into the side of Yuu's neck and inhaling at the bend of their neck, where their pulse was rapidly increasing. “I was surprised, hearing from Azul, that you'd been struggling with this all year. Even more when his mind slipped that you'd been particularly stressed because of me.”

Jade sighed, a sad and deep sigh as he pressed another kiss into their neck, using his nose to push their collar to the side and kiss their shoulder.

“Devastating, isn't it? To know that my beloved, my mate, my pearl was distressed because of me! Aaah, that knowledge just broke my heart...”

Oh. God. Oh god, oh godoh god—

Yuu swallowed, deciding to take a peak at Jade from the corner of their eyes, freezing as Jade's own bi-colored eyes bore into them, a smirk on his lips growing as soon as he noticed them looking.

“At least until I came in here, and heard those delicious thoughts of yours.”

A low chuckle left Jade as he scraped his teeth along Yuu's jaw.

“Would you like me to make the first move? Would you like to to, what was it you're imagining? Take my 'stupid long tongue' and make you 'dizzy with it?' That was it, yes?”

Jade's hand around their waist ghosted down, fingertips grazing down to rub and squeeze at their inner thigh.

“You wanted me to go, how did you imagine? Further down and down with my tongue until...well, you didn't finish that thought, did you? I interrupted you, so...why don't you tell me?”

I-I can't...

“Of course you can, I'm being quite vulnerable with you. Won't you do the same with me, my pearl? I beg.”

Jade's voice turned whiny, meek, pleading as he brought Yuu's hand up to press a kiss to their palm.

“J-Jade, I want you to-to—” Yuu whimpered, finally turning their head to look at Jade, who tilted his head in curiosity and delight.

“Yes?”

“C-can you kiss me? Please?”

His eyes softened, lips slightly opening as he let out a gentle breath.

“Oh, why, of course, my pearl.”

Who was he to deny them. Who am I to deny myself. He thought as he obliged to the simple request and fulfilled both of their wishes.

[mcflymemes]

NATIONAL TREASURE (2004) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

i'm gonna steal it.

who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first?

if it's any consolation, you had me convinced.

you're not hurt, are you?

i am so getting fired for this.

is there a question in there?

we have no money.

how about a bribe?

it was cool. you should try it sometime.

we can't go back there.

i've never been so happy to be proven wrong.

you handled that well.

are you trying to steal that?

it's thirty-five dollars.

you know the key to running a convincing bluff? every once in a while you've got to be holding all the cards.

stop talking. start the van.

you're treasure hunters, aren't you?

i'm still working on it.

why don't you just come back down here and we can talk through this together.

don't speak again.

is that the hot girl?

are you with me?

what do you think? i'm a hostage.

do you trust me?

once we catch them, what do we do?

is this real?

i made something for you.

tell me what i need to know.

just another clue.

i can explain, but i don't have time.

i wasted 20 years of my life, and now you've destroyed yours.

what was the secret?

i found something!

i broke a shoelace this morning.

it can't be done.

i understand your bitterness. i really do.

i want you to have a chance to do that.

i've got some duct tape in the back.

promise you won't be any trouble.

i finally figured it out.

the treasure is a myth.

we need more juice.

you're all lunatics!

still a little on edge from being shot at, but i'll be okay. thanks for asking.

see? okay? now could you please stop shouting?

give me that!

you would do well, [name], to be a little more civilized in this instance.

who were those men?

we did the only thing we could do to keep it safe.

we probably deserved that.

i was thinking, what if we go public? plaster the story all over the internet.

it's not like we have our reputations to worry about.

people don't talk that way anymore.

beautiful, huh?

i have no idea what you said.

if there's something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.

what do you see?

what time is it now?

we missed it.

i know something about history that you don't.

i'd be very excited to learn about it.

hold on one second. let me just take in this moment.

this is cool. is this how you feel all the time?

[name], you're a genius.

how do a bunch of guys with hand tools build all this?

the aliens helped them.

i volunteered.

it's invisible.

i'm sorry for your suffering.

when are we gonna get there?

i'm hungry. this car smells weird.

i'm so sorry i dropped you.

i would have done exactly the same to you.

why can't they just say "go to this place, here's the treasure, spend it wisely?"

anyone crazy enough to believe us isn't gonna want to help.

we don't need someone crazy.

[name], are you crying?

look. stairs.

i'm guessing that's significant.

i'm just trying to hide from my ex-husband.

stay as long as you like.

you want something?

i see what you left him.

this isn't a day for "um."

we didn't find the information credible.

well, this might be possible.

i leveled with you one hundred percent.

everything i told you was the truth.

it's not a conspiracy theory.

you know what? i take it back.

i'm in a little trouble.

this... is huge.

you are gonna go to prison. you know that, right?

that would bother most people.

you know what you have to do.

i'm just trying to think if there's anything else we could do.

i'm not letting it out of my sight.

how do you look?

a toast to high treason.

here's to the men who did what was considered wrong in order to do what they knew was right.

why do you need them?

look... this is a waste of time.

i'm still not against you.

i really couldn't accept something like this normally.

we don't actually have it.

did bigfoot take it?

is there a door that doesn't lead to prison?

get out of there. get out of there now!

[name], can you hear me?

can i marry your brain?

our evil plan is working.

why does that never happen to me?

meet me at the car. call me if you have any problems.

no broken bones?

a jump like that could kill a man.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hey! Ps: love another Lie 🫶🏻 Your writing is so beautiful! I have some fiction ideas and I hope you'd like some 🥹

Imagine Charles in the middle of a race and there is a high speed crash. He's bruised and hurt and may have internal injuries but he wants to get back to the reader in the pitlane asap cause he knows the reader would lose it and as he suspects the reader is in the middle of a panic attack with everyone holding her back and on seeing him she is relieved and breaks down and he's like "you've been crying" and consoles and Hugs her in public. Ps: If you're up for it maybe it could lead to soft consoling nsfw smut?

A Little Longer

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, crash, panic attack, injuries, smut WC: 1.3k

F1 Masterlist

You only looked away for a second, but that was all it took to miss the crash.

One moment Charles was setting best sector timings, and on the way for the fastest lap, and the next his car was spinning off the track and slamming into the tecpro barrier.

A collective gasp had rippled through the garage and you had nearly broken your neck with how quick your head snapped back to the screens. For a moment you couldn’t even see him through the dust from the gravel pit he had caught the edge of. In that moment a hundred thoughts passed through your head. In that moment a thousand questions followed, growing darker and darker as everyone waited for the dust to clear.

All ability to function was erased as you remained frozen in place, eyes fixated on the screens, unblinking, waiting for any sign of movement.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

You hadn’t realised you were moving until Joris grabbed your arm and you found yourself under the harsh sunlight of the pit lane instead of the garage. “Let me go,” you begged with a broken voice. “I need to get to him.”

The edge of your sight was fuzzy, the images blurry as tunnel vision set in and Joris shook your shoulders. His lips were moving but no sound penetrated the noise in your head or the whoosh of your pulse that seemed to be thump in your ears.

“I need to get back to my girlfriend.”

“This is your health we are talking about, Mr Leclerc. You need to be thoroughly checked out at the medical centre.”

“Later,” Charles argued as he limped over to the motorcycle, his hand clutching his ribs. “You don’t know her, she will be worried.”

Every bump on the path sent a jolt of pain across Charles ribs and he bit back the groan that followed. He had to focus on his breathing as he ignored the crowd watching his return to the pits, he couldn’t spare a second to think about all the people he had disappointed with his crash. 

All he could think about was you.

He immediately knew he was right to worry when the motorbike puttered along the pit lane and he saw a ring of his crew trying to keep the media from seeing the scene behind them. Your cheeks were damp with your tears but your lips were cracked from the rapid breaths you were struggling to take. Joris was at your side, the relief in his eyes notable when he looked up and found Charles pushing his way through the crowd.

“Mon cœur, you’ve been crying,” Charles whispered as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing soft kisses over your damp cheeks.

“Charles?” 

He hated how broken your voice was, broken because you had been screaming for him until your throat was raw. He held you tighter despite the protest his body made but he couldn’t stop the sharp intake he took when life returned to you and you threw your arms around his waist. 

“You’re hurt!” you gasped as you leapt back and kept him at an arms width so you could inspect him. “You should be with the medics. What if you’re bleeding internally? I can’t live without you, Char.”

He chuckled softly and cupped your face so he could silence your ramblings with a kiss. “I’ll see them soon, I just need to hold you first. Please?”

You couldn’t deny him, not when his green eyes looked so blue. Lacing your fingers with his you gave him a small nod and finally noticed where you had ended up. You couldn’t remember leaving the garage and Charles draped his arm over your shoulder, turning you back to the shelter of the garage when he saw your eyes widen in realisation.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” you mumbled as he closed the door to his driver room.

“I know, mon cœur,” he replied softly as his hands ran up and down your back soothingly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your trembling fingers reached for his face, tracing the creaselines his balaclava had left over his cheeks and when his eyes fluttered shut your thumb brushed away the dust that had clung to his lashes. 

“I couldn’t see you.” His eyes opened at the sound of your voice. “It was the worst feeling in the world. I couldn’t see if you were okay or if…”

Charles chased away the lingering thought as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “I’m here, I’m here,” he reminded you as he stepped backwards, taking you with him to the couch where he sank into the soft cushions with a wince before tugging you onto his lap.

You tried to pull away as your legs settled either side of his thighs but his arms locked around your waist. “You’re hurt, baby. You need to let the medics check you.”

“Soon.” His hands followed the curve of your body until he reached the hem of your dress and they slowly began to climb once more. His palms were still warm from his gloves and the touch sent heat waves rippling across your skin as he inched higher up your thighs. “Please, let me hold you a little longer.”

It was unfair of him. Truly. He knew exactly how his touch affected you and when his thumbs teased the line of lace between your thighs you couldn’t think clearly enough to deny him. Your response was dragging the zip of his race suit down and his hands left your body only long enough to pull his sleeves down and shove the material past his waist. 

Time began to work strangely as the urgency to feel each other crashed into the need to savour the moment. Your panties were pushed aside in the rush as Charles’s strong hands guided your body down to meet his and then time slowed as you stared into the gold and green eyes of the man you loved more than anything.

Whatever he saw in your eyes made him swallow deeply and bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing his way back to your lips where he reminded you once more, “I’m here, amour.”

You returned his kiss, combing your fingers through his hair as it deepened and your hips began to move slowly. There was an awareness of his injuries that kept you from moving any faster and after a minute Charles’ impatient hands gripped your waist and set the pace for you until you forgot about the crash completely.

“I love you, Charles,” you moaned as your core clenched around him and he stole the soft sounds with his lips as he joined you in ecstasy.

“I love you too.” He sighed contentedly as he pulled you as close as possible against him, your entire front pressed to his, but the sigh turned to a groan of pain.

“Medics, now,” you ordered as you climbed off his lap and offered your hands to pull him to his feet. “No more procrastinating.”

“What we did wasn’t procrastinating, amour,” he managed to tease as he held his rib cage with one hand while he pulled his race suit back up with the other.

You groaned and ran a hand over your face. “You’re not allowed to joke until the doctors have cleared you, Charles.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Lacing your fingers in his, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed them before reaching for the door. “Let’s go and ease your mind, my sweet.”