#this loneliness is something i can't shake

[draurer]

When did the Weasleys find out about Oliver and Percy's relationship? They found out on May 2, 1998.

May 2, 1998.

I take the view that Percy and Oliver got together during the war. Look: they were friends at school for seven years and lived together, it couldn't just go away just because they graduated.

Yes, Percy was a jerk and acted like a jerk in 1995, but people can act like jerks. And people can also change. And people may also need other people. Friendship is something that goes through all your stages with you: when you're an idiot, when you're an emo, when you cut off ridiculous bangs or try to pretend to be special.

There was something deeper than friendship between Oliver and Percy. Oliver was the last beacon of acceptance for Percy, because in those years Percy quarreled with his family and was actually left alone. What did he have? Working in the ministry with idiots and pure-blooded aristocrats? Yeah, cool. Yes, it was his own fault, but that didn't make his loneliness any easier.

But he had Oliver. A lot could have happened in three years (I won't tell you exactly what, because it will take several hours). Let's just accept the fact that three years with the same person changes both of you and your relationship.

And just imagine: you and your loved one live in wartime. And on the day when you're literally fighting to the death and people are dying around you, you split up.

And what do you hear when the battle stops so that you can collect the dead bodies? You hear a rumor that someone from your loved one's family is dead. AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHO EXACTLY.

Just imagine how panicked Oliver is. He's shaking, he can't find Percy, he's injured himself, there's a smell of blood and smoke, there are a lot of wounded people around. His first and closest friend may be dead, his beloved man may be dead.

When Oliver finds Percy, Percy will naturally cry over Fred's body. Like his family. It's an unbearable loss for them, but all that matters to Oliver is that his Weasley is alive. For Percy, who hasn't spoken to his family in three years, but has been with Oliver all the time, he will be a support and a shoulder for Percy to cry on. It's sad, but over time, Oliver has become closer to him than his own family. Sometimes it happens that way.

In the affect, you can forget that you need to control your intimacy and hide the relationship. What the hell difference does it make if you might not make it to midnight?

Of course Oliver and Percy will hold on to each other, stand very close and not let go of each other's arms.

Of course, one of the Weasleys will see. But they're not up to it right now.

I know they'll discuss it much later. Maybe in a few months.

But they found out about it on May 2, 1998.

[sunnywalnut]

I think the weirdest part about having big adult relationships is that you will inevitably come across something and think to yourself "they would have laughed at this until they got sick" and then you realize that it's been almost four years since and you'll never hear their laugh again

And then you have to go grocery shopping.

[mygcherryy]

dirty little secret | jjk

you’re tired of being hidden away, and he’s given one last chance to show you what you mean to him.

pairing — bf!jungkook x gf!reader

content — angst, fluff, smut

wordcount — 8.7k

warnings — jungkook and reader have an argument, jk is a bit of an asshole?, bigdick!jk, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (stay safe hotties), creampie, slight dacryphilia, body worship, aftercare, really fucking emotional sex omggg

notes — this is my first time posting on tumblr in yeeeears omg i literally forget how to use it, hope you all enjoy !!! :)

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

he's done it again.

every time you two go out, it's always the same routine: take separate cars, arrive at different times to avoid suspicion, and most importantly - never, under any circumstances, be seen together. it's like you don't even exist in each other's lives when you're out in public, and it eats away at you every single time.

you should be used to it by now. you should have learned to swallow the bitterness, to accept the reality of what you signed up for. but tonight, something inside you snapped. something fragile, something exhausted.

you have had enough.

because tonight was different. it was namjoon's birthday - jungkook's bandmate, his best friend, one of the most important people in his life. it should have been a night for him to show you off, to not be afraid to be seen with you, but it was anything but that. tonight, he didn't just ignore you - he barely even glanced your way. not once. not even in the brief, stolen moments he usually gives you, when his gaze flickers to yours across the room, just long enough for you to catch it before he looks away. tonight, it was like you didn't even exist.

and maybe that's what hurts the most.

you had watched him, watched as he laughed, as he leaned in close to whisper something to someone else, his expression easy and unbothered. watched as he lived his life so effortlessly while you sat there, locked in this quiet, invisible cage of his making.

he looked free.

and you, his best kept secret, felt like nothing.

your fingers curl into your palms as you step into the bedroom, a deep, aching frustration crawling beneath your skin. one of jungkook's drivers had just dropped you back to his apartment, and because of jungkook's dumb "separate cars" rule, you were the first one home. you tug the zipper down on your dress with shaking hands, peeling the fabric off your body as though shedding the weight of the entire night. it falls to the floor in a careless heap, but you don't pick it up. you can't.

there's a lump in your throat.

god, you feel stupid.

stupid for thinking you could handle this. stupid for believing that the stolen moments, the whispered "i love you"s behind closed doors, would be enough. stupid for waiting - for him, for something to change, for the day he might finally choose you without hesitation.

you pull an old t-shirt over your head, one that used to belong to him. it shouldn't bring you comfort, but it does, and you hate yourself for it.

when you catch your reflection in the mirror, you barely recognize the girl staring back at you. her eyes are tired, rimmed with the remnants of mascara she hasn't wiped away yet. she looks small, like someone who has spent too many nights waiting for something that will never come.

you reach for a makeup wipe with more force than necessary, dragging it across your skin like it'll somehow erase more than just the smudged eyeliner. like it'll erase the way you feel - this dull, aching loneliness that clings to you even when he's right beside you.

but no matter how hard you scrub, it doesn't go away.

you toss the wipe into the trash, letting out a slow, unsteady breath before crawling into bed. the sheets are cold, empty, and offer little comfort - at least not in the way it usually does.

you lie with your back to the door, eyes fixated on the picture jungkook kept of you both on his bedside table, a small tear rolling down your cheek as you try to shut your mind off and sleep.

a few minutes pass before you hear the front door open. your heart clenches, but you don't move. you just listen.

to his footsteps. to the rustle of his jacket as he takes it off. to the quiet sigh he lets out before making his way toward the bedroom.

the door creaks open, and you don't need to look to know he's standing there, watching you.

waiting.

but you're too tired to be the first one to break this silence. not this time.

"y/n?"

his voice is soft, hesitant. you hear him shift in the doorway, the weight of his presence pressing against the silence.

"are you okay?" he asks, then whispers, "are you asleep?"

the question makes your chest tighten. he sounds so unaware, so oblivious to the storm that's been brewing inside you all night. you don't trust yourself to speak, to keep the bitterness from spilling over, so you say nothing.

let him believe you're sleeping.

you hear him sigh as he switches off the bedside lamp. the rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his jacket, the clinking of his rings as he pulls them off one by one. then, the sound of his belt unbuckling, the faint drop of his jeans hitting the floor.

he moves around the room like this is any other night, like he hasn't just spent hours pretending you don't exist.

the bed dips as he climbs in beside you. warmth radiates from his skin, his presence filling the space you had just started to get used to being empty.

then, his lips.

soft, pressing against the bare skin of your shoulder.

you tense.

he doesn't notice. or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care.

his mouth trails up, lips brushing against the curve of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. his hand finds your waist beneath the sheets, fingers grazing your hip, his touch light, teasing.

like nothing is wrong.

like he didn't just spend the entire night pretending you were nothing to him.

like he isn't the reason your heart feels like it's cracking open inside your chest.

"stop." you mutter.

"oh." jungkook smirks against your skin, plating another kiss on your shoulder. "so you are awake."

his hand travels down from your side and onto your stomach and up towards your breasts, gently caressing them as his thumb swipes over your nipple. "you looked beautiful tonight baby." he purrs into your shoulder. "couldn't wait to get you home..."

"jungkook, stop it..." you warned. "i mean it."

he chuckles, his alcohol stained breath vibrating against your neck, making your stomach turn. "mmh, i love it when you play hard to get." jungkook teases, nibbling at your earlobe. he stops playing with your boob, and his hand snakes down to your core, palming you through your pants. "come on baby," he grumbles lowly in your ear, kissing your nape again. "been thinking about you all night."

"stop it."

jungkook's fingers press into you through your panties as he pulls your hips back to meet his, desperately. "come on... it's been three weeks." he whines. "need you..."

something inside you snaps.

"jesus FUCKING christ, jungkook, get off of me!" you yell, swatting his hand away with more force than necessary, shifting out of his reach.

he freezes. "what?!"

you push yourself up on your elbows, turning on the light, and  turning to face him. in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you see the confusion knitting his brows together, the flicker of surprise in his eyes. like he genuinely doesn't understand.

that only makes you angrier.

"are you fucking serious right now?" you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "you ignored me all night. you acted like i wasn't even fucking there. and now you just think you can climb into bed and try to fuck me and act like everything's fine?"

his expression hardens. "y/n, i don't like it either, but you know why we have to-"

"do i?" you cut him off, your anger bubbling over. "because i'm starting to think this has nothing to do with protecting me, and maybe you just like having me hidden away."

his jaw clenches. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "you don't fucking get it, do you? you get to go out and live your life like normal. you get to laugh, have fun, talk to whoever you want. but me? i just sit there, waiting for you to remember i exist."

jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "that's not how it is."

"then tell me how it is, jungkook," you snap. "explain to me why this is okay. why i should be okay with being treated like some dirty little secret."

his face twists, frustration flashing across his features. "you know that's not what you are to me."

"then why does it feel like it?"

silence.

his lips part like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

you shake your head, voice quieter now. "i love you, jungkook. i really fucking love you but... i can't. i can't carry on like this."

his eyes widen slightly. "y/n..."

but you're already looking away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over.

"just forget it." you sink back against the pillows, turning your back to him as you turned off the lamp. "go to sleep."

but sleep is the last thing on your mind.

the silence in the room was suffocating. jungkook had finally settled beside you, his body warm against yours, but his presence felt miles away. he didn't say anything, he just laid there, his breathing steady, the tension between you two thick enough to cut through with a knife. you could feel his eyes burning through the back of your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn back around and look at him. there was too much unsaid, too much that had broken between you tonight.

an hour passed in this aching quiet, each second a reminder of everything you'd tried to ignore for so long. his steady breathing, his soft sighs - each one was a stab to your chest. you cant stop the tears that slowly well up, your eyes burning with frustration and confusion. why did it have to be like this? why did you have to hurt so much when you loved him?

you turn over slightly, wiping the silent tears away, trying desperately not to wake him. but as you stare up at the blank ceiling, the weight of everything finally broke you. this isn't love, not anymore. the realization crashed over you, cold and sharp, like a slap in the face. you can't do this anymore.

you had spent so many nights convincing yourself things would get better. that he'd see you. that he'd finally love you the way you deserved. but tonight, something inside you snapped. the love, the passion - it was there, sure - but it wasn't enough. it would never be enough if he kept you hidden. if he kept treating you like you were something to be tucked away and forgotten.

your chest tightens, and before you could stop it, a broken sob escaped your lips. you bury your face in your hands, trying to stifle the sound, but it doesn’t matter anymore. nothing matters.

you have to leave.

with shaking hands, you slip quietly out of the bed, the coldness of the room wrapping around you like a cloak. you don’t care that it’s late, don’t care that he’s still lying there - your body moves on autopilot.

you make your way over to his drawers, pulling open the top one that he kept for your clothes. you hold back quiet sobs as you empty all of your belongings into one of his gym bags. your breath keeps catching in your throat at the realisation that this was it - you're leaving him.

your fingers fumble as you slip on your sweatpants, tears blurring your vision, but you don’t stop. you can’t.

you are halfway into your hoodie when you hear jungkook stir, a soft groan escaping him. you freeze, panic surging in your chest. he shifts, mumbling something incoherent, before the bed creaks under his weight as he pushes himself up, clearly confused. "y/n?" his voice is hoarse, thick with sleep, but the moment he spoke, something inside you snapped. his voice, the one you had always loved, sounded foreign now. it breaks you all over again.

"what are you..." he mutters sleepily, still not fully awake. his eyes flicker open, and he glances at you, blinking through the haze of his sleep. "y/n, what are you doing?"

you dont look at him. you can’t. if you did, you might break completely.

"i'm leaving." you whisper, the words almost impossible to get out. the sobs come again, but this time you let them fall freely, your heart breaking with each one. "i can't stay here anymore."

jungkook's confusion quickly morphs into panic. he bolts upright, his gaze frantic as he looks at you, then the bed, then back to you. "no..." he says, his voice urgent and desperate. "no, please, don't-"

but you don’t stop. you have to leave.

"y/n, please," he begs, his voice raw, breaking apart with every word. "please don't do this. we can talk, we can fix this—"

"i can't fix this." you interrupt, your voice small and trembling, but firm. "not anymore. i'm tired, jungkook. i'm so tired. i'm going home."

"what are you talking about?! this is your home!"

his words hit you like a slap.

slowly, you turn to face him.

jungkook's sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching you with wide, uncertain eyes. his hair is tousled, lips slightly parted, still trying to piece together what's happening.

but you're already breaking.

a sharp, bitter laugh escapes you, one that holds no real humor. "my home?" your voice is unsteady, and you shake your head in disbelief. "you really think this is my home?"

his brows furrow. "y/n..."

"this isn't my home, jungkook," you cut him off, voice rising. "this is a place i stay when it's convenient for you, whenever you want a fuck or someone to keep you company. a place i have to sneak in and out of like i don't belong here." you let out a breathless, pained laugh. "you want to know what home feels like? it's where you don't have to question whether you matter, where you feel wanted and appreciated. and this..." you gesture around the room, at the dim lighting, the bed you've laid in so many times, the walls that have held too many secrets, "...this isn't it."

his expression darkens, something shifting in his eyes. he stands abruptly, the mattress bouncing slightly with the movement.

"that's not fair." jungkook says, voice low. "you know what we have is real."

you scoff, shaking your head. "real? real for who, jungkook? because it sure as hell doesn't feel real for me."

he takes a step closer, hands reaching out like he's desperate to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. "y/n, stop."

"stop what?" you throw your arms out. "stop feeling like i'm not enough? stop wanting more than to be treated like some shameful secret?" your voice cracks, and you hate how raw it sounds, how vulnerable. "because i can't, jungkook. i can't just turn it off."

his jaw tightens. "you think i don't want more?" his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in. "you think i like this? you think i don't hate myself every time i have to pretend you're just a stranger?"

your chest rises and falls rapidly, your breaths uneven. "then why do you do it?"

silence.

his mouth opens, then closes.

and that's all the answer you need.

your vision blurs, your throat tightening as you pull your sweats up the rest of the way.

"look, please, just... don't do this." jungkook pleads, stepping even closer. "please, i'll be better. i fucking love you y/n."

but you shake your head, stepping back, keeping the distance between you.

and that's what makes something shift in him.

his desperation turns to frustration, his hands clenching at his sides as he follows you out to the hallway. "so that's it?" he exhales sharply, voice laced with barely contained anger. "you're just gonna walk away?"

you blink rapidly, your hands trembling. "what the fuck else am i supposed to do?"

jungkook's eyes flash. "stay."

it's a single word, but it cracks something inside of you.

because it's not enough.

because it's always you who stays. always you who sacrifices, who waits, who breaks.

"i can't." you whisper. "i can't do this anymore."

his expression falters, pain flickering in his gaze.

but you can't let yourself fall apart now.

so you turn away, reaching for your shoes that rested at the front door with trembling hands.

and this time, jungkook doesn't try to stop you.

your fingers tremble as you grab your shoes, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. you can feel him watching you, his presence thick in the air between you.

but he doesn't move. doesn't speak.

and for a second, you think he's going to let you go.

you swallow the lump in your throat, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes. this is what you wanted, isn't it? to walk away, to finally put yourself first? so why does it feel like your entire chest is caving in?

your hand grips the doorknob, and you pause for a moment to hold back your tears.

"don't go."

his voice cracks, low and broken, the sound of it like a knife twisting in your chest. he's crying. you freeze, your heart racing, your body trembling. you can't tell if it's his voice that has you paralyzed or the desperation in his eyes.

"y/n, please."

his words break apart as they leave his lips, like they're being torn from deep inside him. the anguish in his voice cuts through you, and you feel something inside you shatter, something fragile that you didn't even know was there.

you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to hold it together, but it's useless. tears spring to your eyes, and they fall before you can stop them. "jungkook..."

"i can't lose you." he chokes out, and you can hear the pain in every syllable.

your breath catches in your throat. you feel as though the air has been stolen from your lungs, and for a moment, everything stands still. everything except the sound of his crying, the raw, unfiltered emotion that's breaking both of you.

and then, before you can even react, he's there.

his hands are on your arms, gripping you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers. jungkook turns you around, forcing you to face him. his eyes are red and swollen, tears streaming down his face, and you can't breathe. you don't know how to breathe when the sight of him like this tears you apart.

his touch is desperate, frantic, like he's trying to hold on to you with every ounce of his being. "please, y/n." jungkook whispers, his voice trembling. "please... don't leave me. don't fucking leave me like this."

your chest is tight, your heart breaking in a way you never thought possible. tears blur your vision, but you're angry, too, the weight of everything you've kept inside finally coming to the surface. "why should i?" you croak, your voice thick with emotion. "why should i stay when you keep making me feel like i don't matter?"

you're shaking now, your hands balled into fists at your sides, your entire body trembling with the storm inside you. the anger and pain rise up, mixing with the ache in your chest, but it's his words that cut deeper.

"because i love you." jungkook says, the confession leaving him raw, fragile. it feels like he's breaking as he says it, his voice hoarse, soaked in emotion. "i don't know how to do this without you. the thought of you walking out that door..." he swallows hard, his voice faltering. "it fucking kills me. i can't... i can't lose you."

you tremble, tears blurring your vision even more, your breath hitching with the weight of it all. you want to be angry. you want to push him away and demand that he finally be the person you need, but the depth of his pain is suffocating. it's too much.

"then why do you make me feel like i'm nothing?" you whisper through broken sobs, your words barely audible. "i don't deserve it, i fucking love you."

jungkook's face crumples at your words, his eyes brimming with fresh tears, and something shifts between you. his hands reach out again, more tender this time, more fragile, like he's afraid that if he moves too quickly, you'll disappear. he steps closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath ragged.

"you are everything to me," jungkook says, his voice barely a whisper. "everything."

and then, the anger, the pain, the frustration, all of it melts away in an instant. the kiss happens so suddenly, so urgently, it feels like it's the only thing keeping you both from falling apart completely. his lips crash against yours, hot and desperate, like he's trying to pour every single piece of him into you. his hands are shaking as they cup your face, pulling you closer, and you kiss him back with everything you have, all the hurt, all the longing spilling into the kiss.

you both cry, tears mingling on your cheeks as your lips move against each other. the kiss is messy, but it's real - raw, desperate. every sob, every broken sound, fills the air between you, and somehow, it feels like this is the only thing that matters.

his hands move to your waist, gripping you so tightly that you almost wince as he gently pushes you against the wall, but you don't pull away. you can't. not when he's holding you like this, like he's afraid you'll disappear. not when you feel the exact same way.

his lips trail from yours, down your jaw, to your neck, kissing you like he's trying to apologize for every mistake, for every moment of silence between you. "i'm sorry..." jungkook murmurs between kisses, voice hoarse, strained with emotion. "i'm so fucking sorry, y/n."

you close your eyes, tears still falling, and swallow hard, the weight of his apology settling in your chest. you don't know if sorry is enough. you don't know if anything will be. but right now, you don't want to think. you don't want to question it.

so, instead, you pull him back to you, kissing him again, desperate, almost frantic. because deep down, in the silence of your heart, you're terrified that one day, it will be too late.

and in this moment, this breathless, painful moment, all you want is him.

the kiss becomes a battle of desperation, a collision of raw, pent-up feelings that neither of you can hold back any longer. his hands grip you like he's afraid you'll vanish, each touch sharp, urgent - like he needs you to know how much he's drowning in this.

you're both breathing heavily, lips swollen from the intensity, as if this moment is the only thing that matters. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, until you're pressed against him, your heart racing in time with his.

"y/n," he breathes against your lips, voice thick, trembling. "please... don't leave me." there's something broken in the way he says it, a vulnerability that cuts through your anger and leaves you raw and exposed.

the flood of emotions rises in you, and for a moment, you want to say something, anything, to push him away, to walk out that door. but his touch is so insistent, so full of need. your own fingers curl into his skin, clutching him as if you need him just as much.

his mouth moves down your neck, the press of his lips searing against your skin. every kiss feels like a plea, every touch like an apology you're too afraid to say aloud. you can feel the heat of him, his chest rising and falling against yours in quick, desperate breaths. his hands move lower, slipping under your shirt, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your waist.

you gasp at the touch, a shiver racing down your spine. but you don't pull away. you can't. the ache between you both is too overwhelming, too consuming.

"gguk..." you whisper, your voice needy.

jungkook's grip tightens, pulling you toward him until your body is flush with his. he groans, deep and raw, as if he's been holding onto this moment for far too long.

"you're everything to me." he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and desperate. "i don't know how to fix this. i don't know how to make you stay, but i need you. i love you too fucking much to see you walk away."

you're not sure where the anger goes, or if it even matters anymore. all you can focus on is the way he's touching you, kissing you, as if it's the only way to prove he hasn't given up. your hands move to his chest, slipping beneath his shirt, your fingertips tracing the muscles beneath his skin, feeling him shiver under your touch.

there's no more talking. no more arguing. just the need to be close, to feel each other, to erase the space between you that's grown too wide.

you feel his breath against your skin, quick and shallow, as his lips trail down your neck, each kiss leaving a burning mark where his mouth touches. you can't stop the shudder that runs through you, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded. it's almost like a dream, the way he's touching you, too intense, too urgent, but you don't want him to stop. you're afraid of how badly you need this.

his hands slide down your back, pulling you closer, and the space between you is gone, your bodies pressed together like a puzzle piece that can't fit anywhere else. his fingertips slide under the waistband of your pants, grazing your skin, and you can't stop yourself from letting out a soft, desperate sigh.

"y/n..." his voice is thick with emotion, ragged and almost pleading as his hands shake against your body. "please don't pull away from me."

you tilt your head back, letting him kiss down the line of your jaw, and it feels like a surrender, like you've given in to something you can't fight anymore. your breath catches as his lips press harder against your skin, the desperation in each movement, each kiss. it's impossible to ignore. his hands are everywhere, desperate to pull you closer, as though he's trying to meld into you.

you drag your hands down his chest, your fingertips grazing the hard lines of his body, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. his eyes flicker with something fierce, something raw as he stares down at you. he's waiting. waiting for you to make the next move, but you can feel the urgency in him, the way he's trembling as if he's on the edge of something that might break him.

you kiss him again, hard and fast. it's no longer just a kiss, but something deeper, something desperate. his hands are everywhere, pulling at your clothes, fumbling to get you closer. you let him, because it feels like you're both drowning in this, caught in the same tide of need, of raw emotion that doesn't have a name but pulls you under just the same.

he groans, his lips trailing down your neck again, and you can feel how much he's holding back, how much he's trying to keep himself in check. but you don't want him to hold back. not now. not when everything inside you is screaming for him.

"i need you, y/n..." he whispers, voice hoarse, pleading as he connects with your lips again. "please."

your body trembles at the way he says it, at the vulnerability in his tone. and for a moment, all you can do is nod, breathless, too lost in him to say anything else. there's no more space, no more words. it's just the heat of his body against yours, the frantic energy that rushes through you both as if this is the only thing that matters.

jungkook's hands slide down your body, tugging your sweatpants down in a swift motion. he breaks away from your lips, gently planting more kisses along your jawline before peeling off your hoodie and his shirt that you were wearing underneath. he stands back a little to admire your bare chest, noticing how beautiful you look, how the moonlight that crept in from the window bounces off of your boobs, casting a blueish hue on your skin that drew him in like a magnet.

"you're so fucking beautiful..." he mutters with a smile, pressing his forehead against yours and kissing the tip of your nose as his hands slide up and down your sides. "my beautiful girl."

jungkook places a gentle kiss on your forehead, before trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, onto your collarbones, and down your torso. your hands reach down to him, your fingers getting caught between his sweat coated locks.

his kisses become delicate when he reaches the bottom of your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. he pulls your sweats down the rest of the way, giving you a moment to step out of them, before hooking his fingers around the hem of your panties, pulling them down slowly as his kisses fall closer and closer to your heat.

you let out a sharp breath as his nose brushes past your clit, his heavy breath against your heat sending shockwaves up your spine. he begins lapping at the juices he caused to flow from you, moaning as he does so. you are that addicting to him.

your pussy pulsates against his tongue as jungkook hungrily starts eating you out.

"my girl." he mutters against your folds. "you taste so good."

your grip on his hair tightens as he flicks at your clit with his tongue, and jungkook immediately grabs the back of your thigh, placing it over his muscular shoulder to get a better angle. his hand travels up along the back of your thigh to find your asscheek, his fingers gripping your thick flesh tightly and pulling you in closer to his face.

you try with everything in your power to fight the urge to grind against his mouth, not wanting him to win, but you can't resist. he's taking his time with you, showing you how much he loves you and needs you, using his pretty mouth to convey everything he can't say. his tongue grazes your entrance, and you let out a helpless yelp at the sensation as he begins dipping his tongue in and out of you.

"gguk..." you moan, practically pulling his hair out. "fuck baby, just like that..."

as jungkook hungrily laps at your clit, his hand slowly drops from your ass as he slips a finger inside you, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips at the feeling. the thrust of his finger matches the tempo of him sucking on your clit, and you nearly fall apart on him there and then, your slick walls tightening against his long tattooed finger.

you don't want this, not like this anyway. you don't want him to just kiss you and eat you out and pretend that none of it ever happened, to let the heat of the moment erase the hurt that still lingered between you. from an outsider's perspective, that might be exactly how it seemed - just another argument followed by an impulsive, reckless attempt to patch things up.

but it wasn't.

this wasn't the same jungkook who had spent two years keeping you at arm's length, hiding you in the shadows of his life. this wasn't the jungkook who held back, who let fear and hesitation dictate his every move. this was different.

because right now, every touch, every kiss, every shaky breath and moan against your skin felt raw, unguarded - like he was laying himself bare in a way he never had before. there was no restraint, no carefully measured distance. only him, pulling you close like he was afraid you'd slip away, pouring everything he had into the way his hands traced your skin, the way his lips molded against yours, they

there was love in every movement, a depth of emotion you had never truly felt from him before. passion, yes, but something else, too - something desperate and aching, something that made your chest tighten.

and for the first time, you weren't left wondering if he meant it.

just as he was about to slip a second finger in, you tug at his hair again to get his attention. "gguk... gguk..."

he kisses against your clit and looks up at you doe eyed. "yes baby?"

you nearly melt looking in those fucking eyes.

his gaze is so impossibly large and dark that it nearly swallowed you whole. it wasn't fair, how effortlessly he could undo you, how just one look could strip you of every last bit of anger, leaving you defenseless against the love that radiated from him like gravity, pulling you in.

"want you..."

without another word, he draws his attention back down to your pussy, slipping his fingers out of you and giving your folds one last swipe with his tongue. he lovingly plants kisses from your clit all down your thigh, before gently lifting it off of him and towering back above you. his thumb traces the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate, before sliding to the nape of your neck. with a gentle but insistent pull, he brings you in again, his touch firm yet gentle.

"i fucking love you..." he mutters, his voice thick with emotion, barely more than a breath. the moonlight casts a silver glow over his face, catching the unshed tears in his wide, dark eyes. his brows knitted together, his gaze scanning every inch of you like he was afraid this was just a dream, like he was still trying to convince himself that you were really here. the thought of you walking out tonight - of losing you - makes his throat tighten, his chest ache. he sniffs sharply, trying to hold it together, but his lips trembles as he mouths, "more than anything."

your breath catches in your throat. the way he looks at you, the way his entire body trembles with the weight of his emotions… it shatters you. because this wasn't just desperation. this wasn't just fear. this was love, raw and overwhelming, spilling from him in ways he had never allowed before.

your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness that made him close his eyes for a brief moment, like he was leaning into your touch for strength. a single tear escapes him, trailing down his cheek, and you catch it with your thumb, brushing it away as gently as you could.

"i love you too," you whisper, voice trembling. a smile ghosts your lips, but its weak, fragile, weighed down by the emotion coursing through you. your own tears fall freely, hot and relentless, cascading down your cheeks like a flood you couldn't stop. "more than anything."

his breath hitches. his hands, still gripping your waist, tightenes as if he was grounding himself in you, terrified that you'd slip away. "promise..." his voice cracks, and he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision. "promise you won't leave."

you inhale shakily, your thumb sweeping along his damp lashes, wiping away the remnants of his heartbreak.

you meet his gaze, steady despite the storm inside you.

"show me how much you want me to stay."

without hesitation, jungkook scoops you into his arms, one strong arm beneath your knees, the other wrapped securely around your back. his grip is firm, effortless, like holding you was second nature - like you belonged there.

the world blurs around you as he carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step slow and deliberate, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. the night, the fight, the tears - it all fades into the background, swallowed by the quiet sound of his breathing and the warmth radiating from his body.

as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom, his hold on you tightens for just a second, like he needs to convince himself that you were real, that you were still here.

as jungkook lowers you onto the bed, his hands linger, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist like he's hesitant to let you go. your back meets the mattress, but before you can even catch your breath, he's hovering above you, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

his eyes scan your face - your lips slightly parted, your cheeks wet with tears - and it's like he's memorizing every detail, like he needs to etch you into his mind. and then, without a word, he kisses you.

it's different this time. softer. slower. but no less desperate. his lips mold against yours with an aching tenderness, as if he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers. his breath mingles with yours, warm and shaky, and his hands cradle you like you're something fragile. the weight of everything that's happened seems to melt into the way he holds you, the way he kisses you like it's the only way he knows how to speak now. an apology. a promise. a plea.

"baby..." you whisper against his lips. "need you now."

"you've got me." jungkook smiles, pecking your lips again. "you've got me forever."

his hand caresses your boob again as he kisses you while your fingers travel down his toned torso. you begin palming him through his briefs, and he moans in your mouth at the sudden contact. "you're so hard." you giggle, massaging his bulge as your other hand gets lost in his hair.

"only for you." he replies, his hand reaching up to cradle your face, his thumb moving over and back against your flushed cheek. "my pretty girl."

you smile at him, and he helps you to tug his briefs down. you almost gasp when you see his cock spring up and slap against his abs. it looks bigger and needier than ever, and you can feel your pussy pulsating at the sight of it. jungkook kisses your jaw before reaching over to the bedside table, and you know exactly what he's doing.

"no," you blurt out, stopping him. "i... i want you raw."

jungkook's eyes grow wide. "are you sure?"

you nod. you need it. you need to feel him. it's like some sick contract or declaration, you need to feel him to know he loves you. he's asked you so many times before, and if you were ever going to do it, tonight was the night. you reached down and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft, and a sharp breath escaped his mouth, hitting you in the face.

"want to feel you." you groan against his lips. you can feel his curl up into a smile as he places his hand on yours, and helps you run his needy cock through your slick folds. you both groan in pleasure at feeling each other like this for the first time, and jungkook eyes pierce through yours as his tongue pokes at his lip ring.

his eyes fall to your lips, kissing them tenderly. "ready?" he asks, his breath heavy against your mouth. you nod as you let go of him, and wrap your arms around his neck. he looks down between you, letting his dick run up your wet slit one last time before slowly entering you.

you both gasp at the sensation of feeling eachother for the first time. it truly feels like the first time. this is the first time jungkook has conveyed such love to you, anyway. "holy shit..." he says, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. "baby... fuck, you feel so good."

he buries his head in your shoulder as your eyes stay wide, trying to steady your breathing. you hold the back of his head, and run one hand down his muscular back as you moan lovingly in his ear as he slowly pulls out, before sliding back in again.

"baby," you whine loudly, unable to keep a lid on your moans. as jungkook slowly drives deeper into you than he ever has before, you let out a sharp breath, almost screaming in pleasure. "gguk... baby..."

you can barely get your words out, and jungkook grabs your hand, placing it above your head, lacing his long tattooed fingers through yours. he lifts his head up from your shoulder and places a soft kiss on your neck. "i know baby..." he groans lowly. "fuck... i know."

he starts speeding up his thrusts, his breath growing heavier with each movement. you look up at him, and it's like the rest of the world fades away. nothing else exists - just him. the way his tongue flicks at his lip rings, glistening under the dim light. the way his brows draw together in concentration, his expression torn between pleasure and something deeper, something raw. his dark curls cling to his forehead, damp with sweat, his skin glowing with the sheer intensity of the moment. his mouth falls open with every ragged breath, every broken groan that slips past his lips, and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful.

and for a moment, your heart clenches.

because you were about to give up on him.

the thought nearly knocks the air from your lungs. how could you have been willing to walk away from this, from him? from the man who, despite everything, still looks at you like you're his entire world?

he isn't looking at you, too caught up in the space between you both, watching where your bodies meet. his lashes flutter as his gaze drags upward, slow and heavy, drinking you in, mapping every inch of you like he's committing this moment to memory.

and then he sees you.

his eyes find yours, locking on, and for a second, neither of you move. but then, his lips twitch, curving into the kind of smile that knocks the air right out of your lungs. it's warm. real. and for a fleeting moment, it's as if time rewinds, pulling you back two years, back to the beginning - back to the moment you first fell in love with him.

and now, right here, in this moment, you realise that you're falling all over again.

not because of lust. not because of the heat in the air or the way he makes you feel. but because he wants you. because he needs you. because he loves you. and right now, he's showing you in every possible way.

"i fucking love you."

his voice is raw, stripped of anything playful or teasing. there's no smirk, no hesitation, just a declaration, a truth laid bare between you. his eyes are dark and glassy, filled with something desperate, something real, and it makes your chest tighten, your breath hitch in your throat.

your fingers slip from his, trembling slightly as you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and when you brush his damp hair from his eyes, he leans into you like he needs it, like he needs you.

your breath is sharp, uneven, as tears well up again, burning at the edges of your vision. "i know..." you whisper, voice barely holding steady as he rocks in and out of you. your thumb traces over the curve of his cheekbone, grounding yourself in him, in this moment.

"i love you so much..."

and you do. god, you do. with every aching, fragile, broken piece of you.

he kisses your shoulder sloppily as he picks up the pace. "shit..." you whine, your eyes fluttering shut as you throw your head back on his pillow. "faster gguk..."

he obeys your order and speeds up his thrusts, growling lowly as he does so. his lips find your neck again, leaving gentle kisses as his hand reaches down between your legs to rub slow circles on your swollen clit, making you yelp in pleasure. "fuck!" you breathe out sharply. "baby... you're making me feel so... so fucking good..."

jungkook's lips make their way up to your earlobe. "my girl..." he groans, a moan quickly falling from his lips as your pussy clenches around him. "fuck... baby, do that again... driving me fucking crazy..."

but you can't even help it. his fingers speed up on your clit, and his dick hits your spot over and over at the perfect pace, and you know you're not going to last much longer. "i'm so close..." you moan, a tear falling from your lashes out of pure pleasure. "gonna... gonna cum..."

"i know baby." jungkook moans in your ear, nibbling at your lobe. he throws his head back, and shifts his position, hoisting himself up on his hands and steadying himself above you. his head falls back down to look at where you both connect, the sight of your pussy swallowing his raw cock alone driving him crazy. "gonna cum too."

"want you... want you to cum in me baby..."

jungkook's eyes shoot up to meet yours. his breathing grows more rapid at the thought of it. "yeah?" he groans, speeding up his thrusts to an animalistic pace. "you gonna let me cum in your pussy baby? you gonna stay with me forever?"

you can barely breathe, but you managed to swallow hard and pull yourself together. "never gonna leave..." you promise, a moan escaping from the depths of your throat. "never gonna leave you baby, love... love you too fucking much."

jungkook's head falls again as he buries his head next to yours. "fucking love you." he groans, his hot breath hitting your neck. "gonna cum... cum in your pretty pussy... my pretty's girls pussy..."

your hands claw at his back as you feel yourself reach your high. you genuinely feel as though you are about to pass out from all of the pleasure he's sending through your body with each deep thrust. it's overwhelming, and tears spill from your eyes, and this time you don't try to hide them.

you hear jungkook whine every time your pussy clenches around him. "cumming..." you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your head in his shoulder. "jungkook... i-i can't... i'm gonna cum..."

"come on baby..." he encourages as your head drops down again. he kisses your lips gently. "come on, cum with me... fuuuck..."

your orgasm hits you like a train as you feel jungkook paint your walls with his cum. you've never been this loud, but you can't help it. you're moaning into eachothers open mouths, unable to contain yourselves. jungkook slowly pulls out of you with a groan, looking down to watch his cum spill out of you.

"holy fucking shit..." he groans, staring in disbelief. his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his dark eyes flickering over the scene in front of him before he drags a hand through his damp hair. "i can't believe you let me do that."

a breathless, shaky laugh escapes your lips. "neither can i."

jungkook exhales, then laughs with you, the sound warm, genuine, full. he reaches for you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he leans in. "come here." his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss, full of something deeper than just desire - something raw and unspoken. when he pulls away, his gaze holds yours, unwavering. "i love you so much, y/n."

you smile this time - really smile. because you believe it. because for the first time in a long time, you feel it. "i know." your reply softly. you press a quick kiss to his lips before whispering, "i love you too."

his grin is instant, bright despite the exhaustion in his eyes. "i better clean you up." he chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away. he climbs off the bed, stretching slightly before disappearing into the bathroom.

you hear the sound of running water, the shuffle of cabinets opening and closing. a moment later, he returns with a towel, crouching down to clean up his cum that spilled out onto the sheets. his muscles flex as he works, his jaw tight in concentration, but there's an ease to him now, a lightness in the way he moves, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

once he's done, he tosses the towel aside and grabs a clean pair of briefs, pulling them on before turning to you with a familiar softness in his eyes. he pulls out one of his oversized shirts from his drawers, walking back to the bed, and hands it to you with a small smirk. "here baby."

you take it from him, fingers brushing against his for a brief second before you smile, slipping the fabric over your head. the scent of his cologne clings to it, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace, like home.

before you can say anything, he's already crawling into bed, shifting the covers as he settles in. he looks at you, eyes warm, and lifts his arm in invitation. "come here."

you don't hesitate. you move toward him, sinking into the space beside him, your body molding against his as your head finds its place on his chest. his arms wrap around you instantly, holding you close, like he never wants to let go.

as the night settles around you, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you tangled together beneath the sheets. jungkook's arm is still draped around you, holding you close against him as your head rests on his bare chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing in your ear. his fingers move gently through your hair, absentmindedly twisting the strands between his fingers, his touch light, reverent.

for a while, neither of you speak. there's no need to. the silence between you is no longer heavy with unspoken pain, no longer thick with tension. it's warm, safe, a space where you can finally breathe.

but then, his voice breaks through the quiet, soft and unsure.

"i'm sorry."

you lift your head slightly, peering up at him. his eyes are dark in the dim light, searching yours for something - for forgiveness, maybe, or for reassurance that this, you, are still his.

"for what?" you whisper, though you already know the answer.

his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. "for all of it. for making you feel like you don't matter. for making you feel like i don't love you, because i do. so fucking much." his brows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line. "i never want you to doubt that again."

your chest tightens at his words. "i don't. not anymore." your hand rests over his heart, feeling the steady thump beneath your palm. "and i'm sorry too. for almost leaving. for thinking i could walk away from this… from you."

jungkook shakes his head, his grip on you tightening. "i wouldn't have let you."

a soft laugh escapes you, but it dies quickly when you see the look in his eyes, completely serious, completely broken at the thought of losing you.

"we'll never give up on each other." he says it like a promise, like something absolute.

you nod, your fingers trailing up to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. "never."

his expression softens, relief washing over his features before he dips down, pressing his lips to your forehead. "i love you."

"i love you too."

[starmocha]

I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

[nochepsicodelica]

Bear Boyfriend Toji ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ᕦʕ •`ᴥ•´ʔᕤ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You've been away for three out of the five days you took off work to spend time with your family. Toji stayed behind for work, but never went a day without letting you know how much he misses you and wants you to come home already. He calls and texts plenty, and you do the same, assuring him that you'll be home soon. He's made a habit of calling you at the same time every night. Two in the morning.

One fifty-nine became two, and as if he knows it's his cue, your phone rings and Toji's contact name appears over a picture of him sleeping on the couch, bundled up in blankets.

"Toji," you say, as if you're expecting an explanation for why he's calling so late. "It's two a.m., baby. What's going on?"

"Hey, pretty girl. I was just wondering when you're coming home," he asks, his voice deep and low, fitting for what time it is.

You let out a hushed laugh on the other end of the line. "The same day, Toji. You asked me this last night and the night before. I'll be back in two days."

He groans, frustratedly. Getting days as a response is the worst thing ever for him, right now. "That's forever from now. I'm starting to go nuts over here by myself. Can't you cut it short? For me?"

"Sorry, baby. I'll be home soon, I promise. I won't be leaving your side for a while. At least not because I want to."

He sighs, the sound riddled with his loneliness. "I fucking miss you, doll. I wasn't gonna do this today, but I can't sleep for shit without you next to me. What normally doesn't bug me when you're here, irritates the hell out me, now. Like the wind shaking the windows and my own tossing and turning."

"I'm sorry, love. I feel something similar to that, too. I hear when my parents open their bedroom door to use the bathroom and one of my little cousins is still up playing videos games right now." You smile when you hear Toji yawning obnoxiously. "I miss your suffocating bear hugs. I wish you were here to put me to sleep."

"Yeah? You miss being held tightly in my arms?"

You can practically hear the smile on his face. "I do," you assure, a smile of your own spreading on your lips.

"What else do you miss about me?"

You laugh at the tone he uses to ask the question. He's expecting something dirty, but you won't be giving that to him. "I miss your handsome face. You know those green eyes are one of my greatest weaknesses when it comes to you."

"Yeah? What else about me makes you weak?"

You hum, already knowing the answer. "Your soft morning kisses... the way you draw shapes on my tummy with your fingers when I can't sleep at night."

"Fuck, I really miss doing those things, ma," he mumbles.

The line goes quiet for a second, but his signal isn't choppy and he hasn't dozed off. He's imagining the softness of your skin and the little stars and circles he would be drawing on your tummy if you were there with him. He's thinking about the hushed bouts of laughter that would ensue when your energy and playfulness comes out at the wrong time—when you're supposed to be sleeping. With a sigh, he continues his restless conversation, spurred on by his longing for you to be with him.

"Come home to me, already. Please?" He sighs, heavily. He's never felt more like a child—unable to sleep without the presence of the person who brings him the most comfort. "Sorry. I'm sounding pretty pathetic here, aren't I?" He asks, a low rumble of his chuckle caught on the line.

"No, you don't, my love. I miss you like crazy, too. It's the longest we've been apart in a while and it seems like we're both going through withdrawals," you say, unable to hold back a small laugh. "Sorry, saying it out loud sounds kinda funny. Makes it sound like we're addicts out of context."

"Well, I'm addicted to you. Miss everything about you."

"Yeah? Like what?" You ask, fully prepared to hear him slip some of his dirty thoughts into it.

"Mm... I miss the way you sleepily kiss the scar on my lips, before you fully wake up in the morning, and the way you run your fingers through my hair when I lay my head on your chest after a shit day at work. And... of course i'm missing the pretty sounds you make when I get between your thighs."

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, through a chuckle. "Just really miss you, doll. Call me dramatic, already."

"No. For what? Not everyone has a partner that would act this way after being apart for only three days. I'm just lucky like that. You love me?"

"You know I do. So fucking much. I miss your body against mine. Not even trying to be a horndog, I swear. Just want your warmth and your kisses back."

"I know, baby. When I get back, we'll cozy up together and take a nice, long nap, and when we wake up, we can do anything you want. Anything, okay?"

"Yeah, alright, doll."

"It'll be okay," you promise. "You tired?"

"Yeah, I'll leave you be so you can get some rest. Just wanted to hear your voice."

"We can stay on the phone," you offer. "'Fall asleep together, if you want. Or is that stupid?" You ask, with a soft laugh.

"Nah, nah, nah, that sounds good, ma. I'd like that a lot," Toji responds, encouragingly. He sets his phone down next to his pillow and puts you on the lowest volume of speaker. Your voice is more audible, but still only meant for him to hear. "You there, doll?" He asks, once he's settled into his comfortable position.

"Yeah. Ready to go to sleep?"

"Mhm. Love you, gorgeous. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Love you, baby. Goodnight."

Toji credits you for the way he was snoring within minutes. Your presence comforted him, even if the physical aspect of it wasn't with him. He spent a couple minutes just staring at the ceiling, but as time went by, his eyelids started feeling heavier, and there was no way he was going to fight it when that was what he needed help with all along.

[xazse]

Female!Reader × HybridPuppy!Yuji

The reader produces breast milk , which she expresses and donates to a shelter for small hybrids. HybridPuppy!Yuji often hugs her and presses himself against her chest to inhale the smell of milk, which makes his mouth water and his cock hard. In the end, he can't resist and begs his mistress to let him suck her milk. Or he sneaks into her bedroom at night and drinks her milk while she sleeps.

Instead of Yuji, you can have Satoru if you want to change the character

Notes: I love this so fucking much, I made a few changes I hope you don’t mind and I’m using Satoru btw because I don’t write for minors.

Pairings: PuppyHybrid!Satoru x LactatingFem!Reader

Warnings: I’m sorry but I’m warning ya now this is some nasty shit but a good nasty if ur into this! + Smut + Lactation + hybrids + reader has big boobs + possessive!Satoru + perv!Satoru + porn with plot + notproofread + bathroom sex + I think I spent too much time on plot and not enough porn sorry!

You love visiting the shelter near your house, it’s just a ten minute walk of you enjoying the scenery and speaking to the townspeople, they always greet you with the warmest smiles because they know you, they’ve known you for years.

In fact everyone here knows you: a widowed mother and wife, a mother whose children have been moved on to pursue their own hopes and dreams so in your little warm house it’s just you. You’ve noticed for a while a void in your heart, the loneliness does get to you some days but not today.

Recently a facility had been built, a hybrid facility, at first you hadn’t ever thought those existed because under new law hybrids are allowed to coexist around regular humans, they are to be treated as such it was a long time coming, it hurt your heart to see them being treated as outcasts.

You learned that this facility was for the young, abandoned and on occasion they’d take in adults who still couldn’t find their place.

And in that place you finally found your calling. for some odd reason you and your doctor couldn’t place you were still weirdly lactating, it was exhausting having sore breasts and an endless supply of milk you’d have to pour down the drain: too embarrassed to donate it in fear of being found out in the small town of people.

You awake up with full boobs that needed to be emptied or you’d spend the entire day in pain, pumping the milk was the only way, you’d only have to do it once a day but the sheer amount could keep a baby feed for the entire day.

You’d been talking to one of the workers of the facility and they’d been explaining how the young ones weren’t exactly taking well to the supplied formula milk, “they’d cry constantly” he exclaimed and it broke your heart into pieces the thought of them not eating hurts you, for the very first time you confided in the worker and he didn’t look disgusted not one bit in fact he seemed overjoyed.

“Disgusted? Why would I feel that way? This means the little ones will eat and not throw fits.” When he finishes that sentence a long drawn out sigh leaves his lips. You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips.

Suguru you learn comes by your house to pick up the supplements and does he have some comments, he had waited a week to see how much you would produce.

“All this?!” You stand in your doorway shyly nodding in his presence, he’s actually appalled you weren’t lying when you said you have a good bit, he shakes the box in his hands and listens carefully, it’s hard for you to watch him do that right in front of you and not get a little flustered.

He thanks you graciously and makes his way back to the facility, you really hope they like it, it was one hell of a week for you. Though the feeling you did something good swarms you with warmth.

After that it was found that they absolutely loved your milk, and you had plenty to give, it was so cute the way Suguru described their reactions and how priceless it was. One little one had whined for more: Yuji was a special character he required a bit more milk since he was malnourished, Suguru couldn’t stop describing how he would not let go of the bottle, his grip was not going to let up easily, he looked so genuinely happy describing his work and how much he enjoys this field.

You break out of your thoughts and make your way to the facility, it’s downright gorgeous garden greeting you before the glass doors, smelling so good greets you just as warmly, you open the door and offer your greetings to the staff, Suguru had told you on the phone that the little ones had been particularly needy and needed some attention, attention they couldn’t provide right at the moment so they called you: they always do.

They’re way more comfortable with you, always asking when you’re coming back and on occasion they’ll beg you to stay a little longer with them, cute little faces decorated in tears to trick you.

Right now you’re relaxing on the mat in the playroom whilst they all run around chasing after one another, Nobara: a little lion hybrid is trying her hardest to doze off on your lap, she can’t with all the loud children playing like it’s their last day ever. You slowly and softly rub her short locs to lull her, it’s working until Yuji: a tiger hybrid ever the energetic thing is crawling to come bother her.

With Megumi: a wolf hybrid, and basically his other half following right behind him quietly.

Nobara seems unphased by the tiger trying to bother her, simply shooing him away so she can get her beauty sleep, that sentence makes you giggle, you continue to watch the threes antics without saying a word, a show with no production is how they act together.

Yuji sees your hands rubbing Nobaras ears and he’s immediately making his way towards your soft fingers, basically forcing you to rub his orange striped ears, this doesn’t make Nobara happy and she tries to shove him away; whining for your attention again.

You know how they get if you aren’t showing them equal parts attention so now both of your hands are preoccupied, Megumi doesn’t seem to mind, simply sitting and watching on.

You hear his voice before you even see him, he’s definitely running through the halls disrupting the staff, he’s yelling your name so loud that you know its Satoru and how eager he is, you know how eager puppy hybrids can be.

When he pops his head into the playroom the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen, he quickly makes his way over to you ignoring the little growls the babies give him, he’s pushing them aside against your protest and laying in your lap. The grip he has around your waist allows for him to fully envelope himself in your breasts.

“Missed you’s much” he playfully whines.

“You seen me yesterday Toru.”

Satoru lets out a satisfied sigh in the warmth of your boobs, he’s become obsessed with you, and it’s bad he’s had to he reprimanded by Suguru and the other staff multiple times for his possessiveness it’s not his fault though! He can’t control how he feels about you not after that day.

It was when he was feeding Megumi, sometimes as a way to bond Suguru will have Satoru bottle feed them, though he absolutely dreads it, he has to put up with it, all the other adult hybrids are far too hard headed.

He was curious one day, about how the milk had tasted, he found out through Suguru that the formula had been changed to breast milk, it was a slip of the tongue but he himself had also noticed how they whined for more.

He unscrewed the top to the bottle, the little calm Megumi was already drifting off so he wasn’t a problem.

He took a sip, and quickly pulled away: fully expecting it to be the worst thing he’s ever tried: it’s baby food not food meant for him but that feeling on his tongue never came in fact it was actually quite good.

Another sip and another after that; he scarfed the remains of the bottle down with a flushed face, it tassted like- well he couldn’t describe it but he knew he fucking loved it. He found himself sneaking into where it was kept and taking some for himself, it was almost an everyday thing, he knew when Suguru was questioning and bothering him he had to stop but he couldn’t, until he met the source of where the milk was coming from.

He snuggles his face deeper, ignoring and zoning out the loud noises around him, he can smell the milk on your breasts, you recently pumped? Probably this morning to be exact as and all he can think about is how you sat there for hours getting rid of the awful feeling in your sore breasts.

You feel something hard against your leg, you know how Satoru feels about you but this is too much. You’ve already had to tell him in the past that he’s much too young for you and would be better off finding someone who can fit his needs, he insists that he only wants you and doesn’t care about the age difference.

You have yet to bring up these feelings to Suguru though, you can’t bring yourself to say because what if Satoru won’t trust you anymore, it was hard building trust with the man due to his past experiences.

He’s only getting more excited by the minute, his tail moving in slow languid motions.

The way he’s looking up at you is filled with nothing but love and lust, you know that look too well.

You aren’t sure why you’re in a bathroom stall with Toru whilst he feels you up, caressing your boobs, every attempt to tell him to stop dies on your tongue when he rubs a sore area, your breath hitching in your throat when he grinds his hard cock on you.

Such a needy puppy he is, whining under his breath words that you can’t quite decipher especially with how heated you’re getting, your mind getting foggier by the minute as you let Satoru get his fill of you.

He rips apart your blouse and carelessly throws it on the floor, along with your bra next. Your nipples are exposed to the cold air of the facility and Satoru is reveling in it. He paws at your heavy boobs with rough calloused hands that are uncoordinated, squeezing the fat in his hand until he sees what he wants.

The droplets of your milk finally coming to fruition, he licks one nipple and you think you can see him visibly shake with excitement, he filts that nipple in his mouth and suckles, after a good minute he ceases his constant unconscious movements and readily focuses on the sweet milk cascading down his throat.

A moan breaks free from your trembling lips, this feels nothing like the machine you have at home, this feels so fucking good it alone has your cunt throbbing in your panties, the swirling of his tongue and just how content he looks is driving you mad.

You slip into that space that you know is bad for you, your voice is for some reason egging Satoru on, calling him all sorts of names that entice him to suck harder. Your hands don’t listen to you either because you’re rubbing the front of his pants in soft motions.

His whimpers don’t go unnoticed, nor does his swishing tail, such a good boy you tell him, losing all sense of rational he drags you with him to sit on the toilet, you don’t expect the amount of strength he has for being so lanky but he manages it.

He goes right back to sucking on your fat breasts that still replenish his appetite.

You let Satoru strip you of your bottoms and your panties, you let him slip his cock inside of you when you know you shouldn’t, he isn’t big but he fucks constant, always hitting that good spot inside of you based off your reactions.

He looks disheveled and messy, his face red and his mouth dripping with drool and remnants of your milk.

You let him bend you any which way he sees fit in that stall, an overexcited hybrid means it’s going to take a while to exhaust them, though you feel tired after having an orgasm you’ve never experienced he isn’t done, he’s cum multiple times, filled your cunt with his leaky cum he still isn’t done yet.

When he’s got you in his lap leaning on him for support he’s nonstop talking about what you and him will do from here, he talks about how he wants a family of his own and how you’ll be such a perfect mommy to his little ones.

[arxiwon]

[Thread] What Vampire!Enhypen Would Do If Their Girlfriend Was Dying

1. Jungwon 🩸 | The Reluctant Savior

Jungwon freezes, his mind racing between his morals and his love for you. He knows what he has to do, but turning you into a vampire means cursing you with immortality. His hands tremble as he cradles your dying body. "I can't lose you... but will you forgive me for this?" he whispers before sinking his fangs into your neck, sealing your fate with his.

2. Heeseung 🩸 | The Desperate Lover

Panic sets in as Heeseung sees the life fading from your eyes. He’s lived through centuries, but nothing has terrified him more than losing you. "No, no, no—stay with me!" His voice breaks as he bites into his wrist, pressing it against your lips. "Drink, baby. Please. Live for me." He refuses to let you go, even if it means turning you into something monstrous like him.

3. Jay 🩸 | The Broken Protector

Jay has spent his entire existence keeping you safe, yet now, you're slipping away in his arms. "This isn’t how it’s supposed to be," he grits out, his jaw clenched. His instincts scream at him to turn you, but deep down, he fears what eternity might do to you. "If I do this, there's no going back," he whispers, his fangs grazing your skin. But as your heartbeat slows, he makes his choice.

4. Jake 🩸 | The One Who Begs

Jake is wrecked, his body shaking as he holds you. "You promised me forever," he sobs, pressing desperate kisses to your forehead. His throat burns with hunger, but he refuses to take you without your permission. "Please, just wake up and tell me it’s okay," he pleads, knowing time is slipping away. In the end, he can't let you go. He bites down, choosing damnation over loneliness.

5. Sunghoon 🩸 | The Ruthless Decision

Sunghoon watches the light fade from your eyes, his usually cold demeanor cracking. He’s spent years guarding his heart, but with you, he let himself feel. And now? You're dying. "I won't let this happen," he declares, voice like steel. Without hesitation, he bites into your neck, ignoring the consequences. "You’re mine," he growls, holding you tightly as your transformation begins.

6. Sunoo 🩸 | The One Who Hesitates

Tears well in Sunoo’s eyes as he clutches you. "You'd hate me for this," he whispers, shaking his head. He doesn’t want to take away your humanity, your warmth, your light. But as your breathing grows shallow, he realizes there’s no choice. "I'm sorry," he murmurs before his fangs pierce your skin, his own tears mixing with your blood.

7. Ni-ki 🩸 | The One Who Loses Control

Ni-ki isn't thinking—his mind is blank except for one thought: save you. He acts on instinct, his fangs sinking into your neck before he even registers what he's done. The moment he feels your body jolt in his arms, he exhales shakily. "You scared the hell out of me," he mutters, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're not leaving me. Ever."

Which reaction do you love the most? Would you accept becoming a vampire for them?

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

your shark mer 141 and mer remora fic is one of the only things keeping me sane during finals week so please please please dump all of your thoughts on us because your writing style is so good and i can’t get enough!!!!!!!

thank you!! i sincerely hope finals are going/did go well for you! you should treat yourself with a little something if/when you're finished :)

and the shark mer 141 are always happy to be of service <3

37 / 1k / part 2 of shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

"But I'm fine!"

“You’re not. Look at you. You’re half-asleep.”

You’re not tired, you’re hungry. You shift against him, listless and unable to voice your needs. It's not that you're unwilling to do so--it's that you can't. It doesn't occur to you. Your kind doesn't survive by acting needy around a host.

Ghost notices your silent resistance. You’re weak--too tired, too hungry, too used to taking care of yourself--and still stubborn enough to keep your mouth shut anyway. He bites back a growl of irritation. It would be easier to fight. At least then he could shout it out of you. But no--instead you’re a tired lump in his hand, and your silence doesn’t give him anywhere to push back.

He's got one arm looped around you and both of your hands grasped in one of his. He only carries you like this, holding you by the wrists, when you accompanying him isn't up for debate. When you're being particularly fussy about it, he drags you by the wrists as if your arms were leads.

You don't relish that thought right now. You finally just bow your head, tucking it against his chest in submission.

He feels the change in your body language when you surrender to his control. He notices the way you go almost limp against him. Good. That almost puts the hungry, prowling animal in him to rest. Almost.

It’s a hard thing to explain--the gnawing dissatisfaction he felt watching you comb through the sand, small and alone on the ocean floor. The protective, possessive feeling that took root in his stomach.

It made him want to bite you all over. Not just to punish you, but to warn any other lurking thing who might confuse your loneliness for attainability. Not that he'd ever express the impulse to do so.

"Are you coming back to hunt again?" you ask him.

“Why? Do you miss me that much?”

You huff. "You didn't eat enough."

His fingers tighten around your wrists. You either have an inappropriate sense of humor or no self-awareness whatsoever.

“You're in a mouthy mood, huh?” he remarks tersely. “Must be even more tired than you look.”

He’s not stupid. He knows why you invited yourself along on his hunting trip. But he’s not going to coddle you while you shy away from the issue.

He glances up towards the coral reef, considering. If he brings you straight home, you'll just go back to ignoring your obvious needs. But he won’t let you wander the sea floor like some starving bottom-feeder. And he knows better than to hunt for you—you always refuse fresh kills.

The ones Ghost offers, at least. You seem willing enough to take fresh kills from Gaz.

Pisses him off.

You open your eyes when Ghost changes course and heads for a small cove carpeted in sandbanks. He dumps you unceremoniously into the soft sand. You look around, then at him.

"Stay right here." His tone brooks no argument. He swims off with an irritated lash of his tail before you can ask him why. You're left alone, moonlight curling across the surface of the water far above you and across the sand at your fins. Watching it makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You wake with a start when he returns. He holds in one clawed hand a fish. A live one.

He comes to rest on the edge of the sandbank. He doesn't speak, merely watching with a critical eye as you shake the sand from your scales and rouse yourself back into full consciousness. Then he holds out the live fish to you.

"Eat."

You frown but reach for it. Right as you lay your hands on it, it darts away. You jump in surprise, but one look at Ghost's face tells you he expected exactly that to happen. He can’t stop a small, satisfied smirk from curving his lips. That was exactly the reaction he wanted, and now you’re staring at him with six different accusations on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes fix on you with that smug, condescending look in his gaze. "Didn't Price teach you how to hunt for yourself?"

"Yes," you snap. You push yourself off the sand and dart after the fish, catching nothing but water again.

“Clearly not well.”

You strike out again. And come up empty. Again.

He huffs a laugh. You turn on him. "What's the point of this? You're the one who was going hunting."

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows as he eyes you. Every failed lunge and dart bring him more satisfaction. "The point is that you should be able to feed yourself," he retorts. "You're too dependent, sweetheart. You’d starve in a koi pond."

You’d love nothing more than to tell him where exactly he can shove his stupid fish, but it’s far too mentally taxing for you to refuse outright. Instead, you cross your arms in a way that just as clearly says I'm not doing that.

Ghost’s eyes glimmer. He isn’t having it.

He pushes himself off the sand and swims toward you, pushing you back against the bank when he crowds himself over your smaller frame.

"You know” —his expression is downright patronizing— “refusing an order is a bad move. Bad things happen to disobedient pets."

"It didn't sound like an order," you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

He grabs your jaw and forces eye contact. "Sure as hell wasn't a suggestion, sweetheart. If you're not gonna ask for food when you need it, you're gonna learn to hunt." His eyes are hard, and that smug, self-satisfied demeanor is buried far underneath. "You learn or I make you learn. What do you say?"

You swallow. "Thank you for catching me such a nice practice fish?"

"Good pet." He releases your jaw.

He moves back onto the sand, propping himself on his elbows once more as he leans back. His black eyes linger on you, and you feel a chill.

"Now go."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[pellucid-constellations]

To Feel At Home

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris. 

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat. 

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing. 

You had tried—it hadn’t worked. 

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance. 

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him. 

Nothing yet. 

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check.  His shadows would cross continents to find you. 

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home. 

And you were here. 

You had no reason to panic. 

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here… 

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him. 

There were no shadows yet. 

They always found you first. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing. 

Your body would surely fail. 

The last five decades had not been kind. 

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway. 

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else. 

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected. 

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips. 

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago. 

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.” 

You couldn’t. 

Moving was impossible. 

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out. 

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears. 

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you. 

His nose pressed into your hair. 

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns. 

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth. 

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. 

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind. 

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working. 

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack. 

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes. 

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking. 

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

Over and over. On a loop. 

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness. 

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky. 

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—” 

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks. 

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare. 

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.” 

His forehead met yours. 

This was real. 

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin. 

You could never feel them in dreams. 

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.” 

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you more.”

[morganaawriterr]

Four;

SYNOPSIS ➺ In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

NAVIGATION ➺ Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05

PAIRING ➺ fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon

GENRE ➺ Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda)

WARNINGS ➺ Cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;)

MUSIC ➺ Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!!

DISCLAIMER ➺ This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist!

WORDS ➺ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ I procrastinated on writing this chapter so badly and I don't know why :( The story is coming to an end and I'm so sad :/ Its been great to write this for you guys, I hope you like this new chapter. Because it is kind of a calm chapter, its not as long as the last one, but I worked very hard on it anyway! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about death. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

After standing in front of your bedroom door for what feels like an eternity, Sunghoon still can't seem to find the courage to knock. His hand hovers in the air, frozen in hesitation. His thoughts are clouded with regret, and he experiences a sense of weight as if he is being pulled down by gravity. Knowing he’s too frail to make a move tonight, he sighs and turns away, deciding to retreat to his room. He can try again tomorrow morning.

Inside his large bedroom, the scent of clean laundry greets him, and as he approaches his bed, he notices you’ve changed the sheets. The soothing fragrance makes his chest ache, your presence lingering in the room despite the distance between you. His own words replay in his head like a cruel, endless movie. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to push you out of his mind.

The air in the room is ice-cold, the forgotten open window letting in the freezing night breeze. His skin prickles as he crosses the room to shut it, hating how the icy air mirrors the chill between you two. He moves around, searching for his sleeping clothes. An old black T-shirt and loose pants that hang low on his waist.

Cursing under his breath, he slips under the covers, only to be met with cold once again. Sunghoon's body shivers as he adjusts beneath the heavy blankets, but they do nothing to bring him comfort. He exhales a deep, tired sigh, his head sinking into the pillow. More than anything, he just wants this crappy night to end.

But hours pass, and it feels like absolute hell. A cold, lonely hell that he’s trapped in. For four agonizing hours, Sunghoon tosses and turns, his body as restless as his mind. His thoughts refuse to quiet down, and every time he closes his eyes, the image of you crying resurfaces, keeping him wide awake. Frustrated, he lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat pounding fast against his rib cage.

Without thinking, he throws off the blankets and gets up. His feet carry him to the hallway before his mind can catch up. Your door seems miles away, and with each step, his legs grow weaker.

Once again, he finds himself standing in front of your room, anxiety clouding his head. What if she's asleep? He wonders. It’s four in the morning. His hand hesitates in mid-air, lingering over the door as he debates whether to knock or walk away.

What if she hates me and wants to leave me? His anxiety screams inside his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and swallows hard, his hands trembling as he slowly reaches for the wooden door. But to his surprise, it opens slightly before he can touch it, leaving him confused. From the small gap you’ve created, you stare at your husband with tired eyes.

“I didn’t even—” Sunghoon starts, but you just offer him a small smile. Shaking your head, you glance at him again before responding. His beautiful brown eyes are red, with dark circles beneath them, a clear sign that he’s been just as restless as you.

“I heard your footsteps,” you finally say, easing some uncertainty swirling in Sunghoon’s mind.

“Can I come inside? I want to talk,” he mutters, his shy gaze flickering away from your face.

“Sure,” you reply simply, not wanting to seem too eager to see him.

Sunghoon stands awkwardly in the center of your room, facing your bed. It’s the first time he’s been inside, and it looks exactly how he imagined. Decorated in warm, earthy browns and soft greens, with dim yellow lights glowing in the corners and small plants perched on the windowsill. The familiar scent of your perfume lingers in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He exhales slowly, feeling himself relax just a little.

His curious eyes never leave your silhouette as you quietly close the door and crawl back into the messy sea of blankets on your bed. He notices you’re wearing the same thing as the other day when he brought you tea. A plain, oversized deep blue T-shirt with no shorts. Sunghoon quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere before his body reacts to the sight of your exposed skin.

“Are you going to say something? Or just stand there in silence?” you tease, your eyes burning holes into him.

“I want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to say those things to you,” Sunghoon finally confesses, his voice quiet, his gaze still avoiding yours. “I was stressed and overwhelmed from work… I didn’t mean anything I said.”

As the last words leave his lips, Sunghoon’s warm brown eyes finally meet yours. The sight makes his chest ache; your eyes are still red and your face slightly swollen.

“Sunghoon, you can’t just say whatever you want and then blame it on stress. Those words… they… hurt me… more than I can even admit.” Your voice is low and unsteady, a knot forming in your throat as the words leave your mouth.

“I know, I know.” Sunghoon insists, stepping closer to your bed. “You’re absolutely right, and that’s why I couldn’t sleep until I came here to apologize. I’m sorry, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze until he finishes speaking, searching for any sign of insincerity. But the way his eyes soften reassures you that he means every word. Under his intense stare, you feel breathless, the air slipping away as his piercing eyes stay locked on yours. The tension in the room shifts in an instant, like a single spark igniting a space filled with gasoline. Frustrated, you throw yourself onto the bed, your back pressing into the mattress, legs slightly parted. You want to scold him for being so cruel, but your thoughts are a disorganized mess.

Sunghoon observes you in silence, his frustration growing. Your lack of response does nothing to ease the guilt twisting in his chest. He notices the way you cover your eyes with your arm, hiding from him. A sudden inappropriate thought crosses his mind, and a smirk tugs at his lips. Meticulously, he crawls onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs, his knee nudging them apart just enough to fit.

Your head snaps up instantly, and when you move your arm away, you’re met with Sunghoon. He is so close, you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Your cheeks flush under his intense stare, his dark eyes absorbing every inch of your face.

Still annoyed by your silence, he finally speaks.

“Do you forgive me, Y/N?” His voice is deeper, dripping with something that makes your stomach twist.

You want to resist, want to say something sharp, but instead, you just nod, too flustered to form a single word.

Suddenly, Sunghoon’s right hand gently pushes your right knee up, his warm fingers gliding over your calf in a slow, deliberate motion. A breath catches in your throat, your skin erupting in goosebumps at his touch. Then he leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as he whispers,

“I don’t like this silence you’re giving me. Use your words, princess. Tell me you forgive me for my stupid actions.”

You don’t know if it’s the unexpected nickname, the husky rasp of his voice, or the way his fingers continue their teasing path, trailing higher, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Your eyes flutter shut as a soft, unintentional moan escapes your lips, your body betraying you under his touch.

And it feels exactly how you imagined it—confident yet gentle, just like Sunghoon.

“Sunghoon…” You manage, your throat dry as your eyes lock with his once again. “I forgive you…” you breathe out, still trying to steady yourself.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens as he takes in your flustered state, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“See? Was that so hard?” he whispers against your lips, and you swear they brushed against yours for the briefest second. Just as quickly as he settled on top of you, Sunghoon shifted, falling onto the bed beside you.

You turn onto your side to face him, and the smug smile on his lips says it all. He enjoyed teasing you and relished seeing you so helpless beneath him. Your gaze wanders over his face, taking in how effortlessly handsome he looks dressed casually, his black hair slightly tousled, and a playful smirk curving his lips. Half of his face is hidden behind his dark strands, making him look even more alluring.

Your eyes wander lower, and your breath catches at the sight of his bare neck and collarbones, the loose t-shirt draping off his shoulders. His pale skin is smooth, scattered with small beauty marks that you never noticed before. Heat rises to your cheeks as your curiosity gets the best of you, and your gaze dips even lower. The way he’s lying down causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned waist. Your hungry eyes trace the lines of his abs down to his v-line, which is teasingly visible beneath the low-hanging waistband of his pants.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen your husband in such casual, revealing clothes, and it’s affecting you more than you expected. But before your gaze can travel any further, Sunghoon’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your head up, so your eyes meet his again.

“My eyes are up here,” he teases, amusement flickering across his face.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter. “Shut up,” you mutter, hating how easily he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I’m feeling so sleepy now,” Sunghoon sighs, ignoring your flustered state. Then he yawns, letting his body sink deeper into the mattress.

“Since you were good to me and apologized,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant as a tiny spark of confidence grows inside you. “You can sleep here with me tonight.”

Sunghoon lifts his head off the pillow, giving you a surprised look, as if not fully believing your words. Without another comment, you snuggle back under the covers and switch off the light on your nightstand. In the darkness, you turn your back to him, pressing your burning face into your pillow. The ghost of his earlier touch still lingers on your skin, making it impossible to calm your racing heart.

A moment later, you hear him shifting beneath the covers. Then, slowly, Sunghoon inches closer, his warmth seeping into your back as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you firmly against him, and you feel everything—his solid chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his legs press against yours. His head dips close to your ear, his hand sliding up, resting just below your chest.

“Thank you, princess. Good night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your earlobe.

With a tight grip on your waist, you hear his breathing begin to slow. Your eyelids grow heavy too, and without resistance, you drift off in his arms. Outside, the full moon shines brightly in the vast, star-filled sky, casting its bluish light into your bedroom, illuminating your tangled bodies.

The night slips away quickly, and soon, the sun begins to rise, bringing warmth and light into the world. Inside your bedroom, you and your husband remain entwined, both of you breathing slow and steady.

Sunghoon scrunches his face in irritation as the bright morning rays reflect off his closed eyelids, forcing him to wake. He yawns, then carefully pulls his arm from under your head, needing to stretch his stiff body. Beside him, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a mess, and soft snores are escaping your lips, but even like this, Sunghoon thinks you're the cutest woman alive.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against your serene face, he rubs his eyes and sits up, resting his back against the wooden headboard. The quiet atmosphere is comforting, and for a brief moment, he wishes it could always be like this—calm, steady, safe. He’s not sure if he can handle any more chaos.

His sleepy eyes wander around your bedroom, finally able to take it in fully in the daylight. As he scans the space, something catches his attention. A small frame on your nightstand, nestled beside the poetry book you always carry around. He leans forward to get a better view, but he is surprised that the picture inside is of a man.

He doesn’t seem much older than twenty, his blonde hair falling messily over his face as he makes a peace sign for the camera.

Sunghoon hesitates for a second before slowly leaning over your sleeping body, reaching for the frame. Just as his fingers curl around it, your body shifts, and suddenly, your face is too close to his.

“What are you doing?” you murmur sleepily, your eyes still closed.

Sunghoon grips the picture tightly before sitting back up, waiting for you to fully wake. He expects you to scold him—maybe even get mad for touching your things without permission, but instead, you simply roll onto your side, meeting his gaze with a soft, sad smile.

“Who is he?” Sunghoon asks cautiously, noticing the way your expression shifts despite the small grin on your lips.

“Nishimura Riki,” you say slowly, a lump forming in your throat. “He was my ex-husband.” The words feel heavy, and no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers.

Sunghoon watches you closely, sensing the weight behind your words. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his gaze unwavering, his tone gentle, trying to offer the same patience you always show him.

“Yeah, but maybe not now.”

The moment the words leave your lips, he nods silently and hands you the frame. He observes as your eyes flicker over the image, small tears forming as you stare.

Slowly, you set the frame back in its place, taking a deep breath as if trying to compose yourself. Sunghoon remains silent, but inside, confusion stirs. You’ve never mentioned being married before, not once. You’ve never even spoken another man’s name in front of him. And yet, the way you look at the picture sends a cold shiver down his spine.

Something about the entire situation feels… discomfiting.

“What should we do today?” Your voice breaks the comfortable silence. Slowly, you shift under the covers, resting your head on Sunghoon’s thighs and looking up at him.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” he asks confidently, though his heart pounds in his chest. His hand drifts to your head, gently patting your hair.

You smile at him. “Of course I do, Sunghoon,” you reply, avoiding his gaze as a wave of shyness washes over you. The excitement bubbling inside makes you feel like a twelve-year-old girl falling in love for the first time.

“I’ll plan everything—you don’t have to worry about a thing!” he exclaims, his voice laced with excitement as he watches you fondly, his fingers threading deeper into your hair.

A peaceful silence settles between you, filled with the warmth of the blankets, the soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the soothing sensation of Sunghoon’s delicate fingers massaging your scalp. You stare at his face, admiring his cute moles and messy bed hair. Your tongue wets your lips as your gaze shifts to his plump lips, so inviting. It makes your stomach twist with the need to feel them against yours.

Sunghoon seems to sense the shift in your eyes because his fingers, that were in your hair, started to trail down to rest behind your neck. Slowly, he leans in, your sweet scent enveloping him as he lowers himself to reach your lips.

And once again, he stops just millimeters away, his warm breath ghosting over your eager lips. “We can't. Not yet,” Sunghoon whispers, turning his head at the last second. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at the tender touch and pout as he pulls away.

“I know it’s frustrating, but I’m waiting for the right moment,” Sunghoon explains, his fingertips gently tracing your warm cheeks.

Then, he carefully guides you to sit up on the mattress before leaving the bed, and you watch him in confusion. Just when you thought Sunghoon couldn’t get any more handsome, he proves you wrong. He stands before you with a soft blush dusting his cheeks, neck, and ears.

“Wear something nice—we’re leaving in two hours,” he tells you with a bright smile, standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.

You nod, biting your lip as your heart skips a beat under his gaze. His sharp fangs peek out as he grins at you one last time before disappearing through the door.

The atmosphere in your room will never be the same. His presence now engraved in your sheets.

“Can we go somewhere else before doing what you planned?” you interrupt the silence as the car comes to a stop at a red light. Turning to face Sunghoon, you watch as he furrows his brows before responding.

“Sure. Where do you need to go?” he asks, his eyes carefully flicking to the right mirror outside the car.

“The cemetery.”

This time, the silence that settles between you isn't comfortable or light. It’s suffocating. It eats away at your ability to breathe, making your chest ache. Sunghoon doesn’t ask any questions, and you’re grateful. You need all the courage you can muster to finally tell him about your ex-husband. Your unhappy gaze remains fixed on the window, the sight of the familiar place making you take a deep breath.

The sun blazes against your back as you and Sunghoon walk through the cemetery, the atmosphere heavy and uneasy. He follows a step behind, letting you lead the way. When your high heels click against the cement path, he realizes you’ve reached your destination.

You stop in front of a wall lined with unfamiliar names. Slowly, your delicate hands leave your pockets, reaching for a particular spot. Your fingertips softly graze over a familiar face, and as your teary eyes meet his, Sunghoon finally understands what was going on.

“He was such a sweet boy,” you begin, a melancholic smile forming on your lips as small tears start to fall. Sunghoon immediately steps forward, standing by your side. His hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers, silently giving you the strength to continue.

“Ni-ki and I grew up together; he was always there for me.” You pause, turning back to Ni-ki’s picture on his grave.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks carefully, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“We were planning our wedding when we found out he had late-stage brain cancer,” you say, your voice trembling. “I was devastated. I cried every single day. But… he stayed positive, always smiling, even when his hair started falling out from chemotherapy. We knew he had only a few months left, so I put on my wedding dress and married him in the hospital. I wanted to be his wife before he…” Your voice cracks as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

Sunghoon holds your shaking hands with unwavering care, his warmth grounding you.

“He died two days after we got married,” you whisper. “I was holding his hand. The last thing he said to me was, ‘I will always love you.’” Your breath hitches. “He was only twenty, and I was twenty-two. We were young, I know, but I couldn’t let him go without marrying him—”

A loud sob cuts off your words, your body trembling as grief crashes over you once again.

“It’s okay…” Sunghoon murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispers, his voice tight with emotion. You don’t notice the warm tears slipping down his own face, his heart aching at the sight of you in pain.

“Ni-ki was my everything. He was my only reason to live,” you admit brokenly. “My mom hated me; my dad was gone… I only had him. After he passed, I fell into a deep depression. I barely ate for months, and no one cared. Then, one day, I received a bill. A heavy debt that Ni-ki’s relatives refused to pay. He grew up in foster care, so no one cared about him. No one but me. Instead of telling me, he tried to cover the medical costs himself with what little he made from teaching dance classes. But it wasn’t enough. That’s why I agreed to marry you,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your father said he’d pay off the debt if I accepted.”

Sunghoon tightens his hold on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t love again.” Your voice trembles as you press your fingers together, nervous. “But then… you showed up.” You lower your gaze to your hands, too scared to look at him. “At first, I hated you. Then I started to accept you. Then I understood you. And now…Now I’m afraid of what I feel for you.”

Sunghoon gently tilts your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze is so warm, so deep, that for a moment, the whole world disappears, leaving just the two of you.

“I’m not afraid of what I feel for you,” he whispers. His thumb caresses your tear-streaked cheeks with infinite tenderness. “I never knew you were all I needed… but now that I have you, I won’t let you go.”

A smile grows on both of your faces as he speaks, love dripping from his words. You rest your head against his chest as you hug him, craving the comfort of his embrace and his familiar scent. Sunghoon hugs you back, pressing a kiss to your hair before resting his chin on top of your head.

You remain entangled in each other for a few moments, your gaze fixed on your ex-lover’s grave. You wish Ni-ki could understand how much you loved him and Sunghoon. The two men are so different, yet so alike. You hope he isn’t upset that you’ve made space in your heart for someone else, despite him never truly leaving.

The sun remains high in the sky, its warmth easing the ache in your chest. When you look up at Sunghoon, you find that he’s already watching you, making you smile.

“We can go now,” you assure him, taking a deep breath.

Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk back to his car. “Thank you for telling me this. I know it wasn’t easy.” His voice is laced with genuine affection, his smile soft.

“I felt like it was time.”

“Was Ni-ki as patient as you?” Sunghoon asks, encouraging you to talk about your ex-lover so that remembering him won’t hurt as much.

“He was way more patient than me.” You smile. “I learned patience from him. Mostly because he loved to get on my nerves. At first, I hated how childish he could be because I was never allowed to be. But he showed me kindness, love…” Your voice trails off as memories of his playful nature resurface. His loud laughter echoed through the small apartment you once shared, his grin mischievous as he ran from you, clutching your favorite chocolate half-eaten in his hands.

Sunghoon catches your smile in the rearview mirror as he drives to your date’s destination. The conversation remains on the same topic throughout the ride, with him asking questions about Ni-ki and enjoying the way you recount your memories—your voice filled with both excitement and tenderness.

Sunghoon could have never imagined you had gone through all of this. You always seem so calm and collected, as if you always know exactly what to do and say.

“Woah, what is this place?” you ask sarcastically, laughing as you spot the bold red letters of the sign above the building. “The movie theater?”

“It’s cliché, I know,” Sunghoon admits while carefully parking his car, his gaze flicking back to the rearview mirror. “But it’s perfect for a date. Plus, I haven’t been here in so long, and there’s this horror movie I really wanted to watch with you!” He explains as he turns off the engine, finally looking at you.

You adjust your black dress and nod, charmed by his adorable way of thinking. “Shall we?”

Sunghoon quickly gets out of the car and rushes to your side, opening the door for you. A giggle escapes your lips at the gentlemanly gesture, your heart skipping a beat. After closing the car door, he walks beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist and a smile engraved on his lips.

The theater is bustling with people and loud chatter. The queue seems endless, but after a few minutes, you finally get your tickets.

The movie room is packed, with not a single empty seat in sight. You steal a quick glance at Sunghoon, only to realize he’s already looking at you. He hands you the popcorn, and as you grab a handful, a few pieces spill onto the floor. He gives you a stern look, and you suppress a smile.

The movie turns out to be scarier than you expected. With every bloody scene on the screen, you squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively lean closer to Sunghoon. He notices your discomfort in the dimly lit space and reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. You hold onto him tightly whenever something terrifying happens, making him smile at your cute reactions.

“That was… something else,” you murmur as you toss the empty popcorn container into the trash while walking out of the theater.

Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

“I like horror, not gore. And that was all gore!” you pout, earning a laugh from him.

Suddenly, he stops mid-step and turns to face you. His hands reach for your cheeks, gently pulling at them, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re so cute,” he teases, his eyes locked onto yours.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Obviously,” you reply, pulling his hands away from your slightly sore cheeks.

“Are you hungry?” Sunghoon asks as you resume walking.

“I’m always hungry,” you respond teasingly, shaking your head dramatically.

He laughs again. “Let’s get dinner then.”

He opens the car door for you, giving you space to slide inside. Once you’re seated, you glance up at him with a nod, and he circles the car before driving to the restaurant.

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step inside. The restaurant is decorated in black and red, with tall windows and dim lighting that gives the place an intimate, sensual atmosphere. Sunghoon smiles at your reaction, admiring the way you take in the space.

He stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a table tucked away from the main dining area, the spot he always chooses, right by the window.

As Sunghoon pulls out the chair for you to sit in, he finally takes a moment to admire you. To his surprise, your dark, smoky eye-look remains perfectly intact despite the earlier tears, and your lips are still stained red from the new lip tint you bought. The black silk dress you wear drapes elegantly over your figure, hugging you in all the right places. A delicate pearl necklace rests against your collarbone, making your skin look even more alluring than usual.

The menu is already on the table, so you take the initiative and browse through it, still unsure of what to eat. Your gaze drifts to the prices, and your eyes widen in shook. If you had never married him, dining here wouldn’t even be an option.

“Shall we order steak?” Sunghoon asks, breaking the silence. You quickly glance at him, your eyes shining with excitement.

“Yes!” you respond with a smile. “And to drink… rosé wine?” You pout slightly, knowing your husband prefers red.

“Of course, princess. Whatever you want—today is all about you.” He flirts, flashing you a seductive smirk, his dimples on full display.

A sweet waitress takes your order, but your attention remains fixed on your husband. Sunghoon looks exceptionally handsome tonight, with his black hair neatly styled back, and a pair of thin glasses resting on his nose. He wears a simple white button-up shirt paired with a black blazer, but the confidence in his demeanor makes even the simplest outfit look effortlessly refined.

“You’re staring…” Sunghoon murmurs, trying to suppress a smile. His ears grow warm under your passionate gaze. Those beautiful doe eyes of yours will be his downfall.

“Sorry, you just look so handsome tonight, husband.” You compliment him with a grin.

“Thank you, wife. You look absolutely stunning, too,” Sunghoon flirts back, another smirk threatening to break across his lips.

The dinner passes slowly, filled with lingering glances and playful jokes. You feel calm and safe as Sunghoon shares funny stories about his old friends, his charming smile captivating you more and more. He remains attentive throughout the evening, always checking to ensure your glass is never empty and helping you cut your steak when the pieces prove difficult. His caring nature is one of your favorite things about him—because you’ve spent your whole life being the one to take care of others, when he takes care of you, it touches an area deeper in your heart.

Now, you walk side by side along the vast road by the Han River, enjoying the occasional cool breeze brushing against your skin. The moon has begun to rise, its glow casting a silver shimmer over the moving water. You pause to admire it, drawn to the soothing sound of the waves.

“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” you remark, stealing a quick glance at Sunghoon. He stands behind you, his eyes glued to your figure. The gentle wind causes your dress to ripple, accentuating your curves.

“It’s beautiful,” he agrees, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. “But not as beautiful as you.”

“You’ve been so flirty.” You tilt your head slightly to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“I do… It’s just…” You pause, locking eyes with him. “I have to get used to it, that’s all.” A soft smile curves your lips as you turn fully to face your husband.

Sunghoon realizes this moment is perfect. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, looking like an absolute goddess under the moonlight. He slowly slides an arm around your waist again, pulling you closer, his heartbeat hammering in his chest as he leans in.

Your hands grow slightly clammy as you grasp his wrist, your lips parting in anticipation—hoping, waiting for him to claim you as his. And then he finally does.

The moment his warm lips meet yours, the air leaves your lungs. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and a smile blossoms on your lips. Sunghoon feels it against his own as he kisses you, and it makes his head spin.

Uncertain if he should go further, he starts to pull away, but your hands fly up to his face, pulling him back toward you, craving more. He gets the message, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His lips move against yours with slow, deliberate care, savoring your taste.

Your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, and he grants it—just this once. You take the lead, eagerly deepening the kiss, your tongue tangling with his in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

When Sunghoon finally runs out of air, he pulls away, breathless but utterly satisfied. You rest your forehead against his, relishing the feeling of his breath fanning over your damp lips.

If you had any doubts before, now they’ve completely disappeared.

You love him.

Jiwon stares blankly at the white wall of her bedroom. The lights are dim, the room is warm, and she sits on the edge of the bed while a handsome man sits beside her. His fingers trace invisible shapes on her exposed waist as his lips occupy themselves with her neck, biting and sucking the soft skin.

It’s like she can see them right in front of her when she closes her eyes, the memories making her skin crawl. She had thought Sunghoon was distant because the company was taking up all his time, but she was wrong. And that is what pisses her off the most.

The man beside her presses down on her shoulders, causing her to lie flat on the mattress—but she isn’t there. She’s long gone, lost in the sight of you. She wanted to laugh when she caught you and Sunghoon at the restaurant she used to love. How dare he bring you to her favorite place?

At first, Jiwon thought she was imagining things, but Sunghoon’s face was impossible to mistake. She watched you both the entire time—how you laughed at his jokes, how his eyes lingered on your face, how at ease he seemed with you. She envies it badly. But deep down, she knows it was her fault for crushing his confidence.

As she closes her eyes to relive the moment, the man is now on top of her, unbuttoning her corset and completely unaware of how distant she is. Not that she minds. She chose him to make her forget about this stupid night. After watching you two have dinner, Jiwon followed you to the Han River. She needed to see just how close you two really were.

She had expected some light skinship, but when she saw Sunghoon lean in and kiss you, she lost control. Hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned away, heading back to her car. She wasn’t sad, she was furious. How could Sunghoon move on so quickly? How could he kiss you like that for everyone to see?

Jiwon was shaking by the time she reached her car, and once inside, she screamed until her throat burned. Her hands trembled as she pounded against the steering wheel, feeling betrayed, humiliated, and replaced.

Now, back in the present, she lets out a soft moan as the stranger’s fingers trail up the inside of her bare thighs.

A perfect plan begins to take shape in her mind as his hand ventures higher, grazing over her underwear. The plan will be flawless. She just has to enjoy her night first.

As the man slowly and teasingly pulls her panties down, she allows herself to relax—while a malicious scheme lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[newtkelly]

do you have any fave long bucktommy oneshots?

thank you for asking, i absolutely do! here are my long bucktommy oneshot fic recs. these fics are 10k-30k words (admittedly there are a few exceptions, but those feel longer than they actually are), and they are posted in one chapter. listed in order of published date. enjoy!

i sing of bitter earth by @middyblue [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-07-2024 | Words: 12,037 | Rated T

In his head, on the job, he can walk away from it. The underworld that lies in wait inside him stays behind and it’s just him and the rope, the hose, the halligan; give him a puzzle to solve and a caller to rescue and it’s like everything is air, rosy and clear and fragrant as an open field.

The Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve floods. Taylor falls; Tommy falls; Buck falls.

this was one of the first 9-1-1 fics to make a serious impression on me. i was, and still am, so taken by the imagery, the action, and the thematic storytelling. it bravely leans into being an emergency-based fic, and it genuinely made me want to tell a story like that, too. the prose and the characterization and the taylor/tommy dynamic are all so brilliant. definitely one of my most formative, influential, and cherished 9-1-1 fics.

an outlier that should not be counted by @dadvans [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-11-2024 | Words: 7,429 | Rated E

Buck knows a lot of random trivia. Tommy falls in love with him one fact at a time.

okay, i know this the shortest thing on this list, but listen. where would we all be without this fic? there is a reason it's sitting pretty at 22k hits. could honestly be the origin of many of the fandom's core bt dynamic headcanons. a delightful, witty read that captures the early excitement of bt like lightning in a bottle.

awful quiet here since love fell asleep by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 05-14-2024 | Words: 15,632 | Rated M

The Buck/Tommy break up/make up fic that literally no one was asking for but me. Things don’t always work out, the first time around.

"We'll be friends?" Because this is the right move, the smart move.

There's an expression he can't read that crosses Tommy's face, but then he nods, and sticks out his hand for Buck to shake. "Of course."

Buck hates it. But he made the bed, it's his to lie in. They shake on it.

the original break up fic. this is an amazing buck character study that honestly feels a bit prophetic in retrospect. i remember how i felt reading this, so heartbroken but so obsessed with the way buck navigated through understanding his own loneliness. it's absolutely joyful.

something ‘bout a boat by @swiftietartt [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-30-2024 | Words: 9,825 | Rated E

Tommy introduces Evan to his friends.

this is my one of my most cherished fics, i honestly cannot articulate how intensely i feel about it or do its brilliance much justice. begging you to read it if you haven't. to this beautiful author, should you ever write buck and tommy again, please know i will be first in line to read it. this story is charming beyond belief. this version of tommy is not one that you read about often, and i fucking love that. in this story, tommy is aloof but well-loved, has a delightful circle of true friends, and he has a fucking boat. there is not that much buck in this story, though he is omnipresent in a way. it builds and builds up to them finally getting to be alone below deck, and it's all the more delicious because of the wait. fabulously unique, there is really nothing else like it.

a full-body workout by @persiflager [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-02-2024 | Words: 7,901 | Rated E

When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

another one that is so carefully written that it feels longer than it is. one of the things i love so much about this story is the trio dynamic. the evolved friendship that eddie has with buck and tommy is, at least for me, best depicted here than anywhere else i've ever seen it. and, on top of that, there is just something so appealing to me about spending an entire day wanting to fuck so bad, but your friend is over so you've gotta practice patience. the anticipation that builds is really nuanced, it's truly a perfectly told slice of life.

the suffering of evan buckley('s sex drive) by @sugarpenchant [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-16-2024 | Words: 10,513 | Rated E

Tommy has been gone fighting fires for a month as vital air support, which would be fine—except for the fact that Buck has finally gotten a taste of sex with Tommy only for it to be cruelly whisked away. Buck finally gets his chance to join the firefighting efforts on the front lines and hopefully, someday before the world ends, ideally, he’ll get to see Tommy again.

There is a chance that Buck is being a little overdramatic about the whole thing, but a month is a really long time to go without the wonder of your brand new boyfriend.

posted for day 2 prompt of five alarm fest: after a dry spell

i need you to understand exactly one thing. this is the hottest fic ever. no like, this is the hottest fic i've read in years. buck, having just gotten dicked down for the first few times loses a summer of lovin' to a wildfire. tommy's on the frontlines, and what does buck do? he joins the ranks just for the possibility to be physically closer to him (and his dick). the world-building is fantastic for its length, particularly with the inclusion of lone star characters. when they finally see each other that first time, goddamn. the way they want each other but can't do a thing is a tease like nothing else. but where there's a will, there's a way. the fuck they manage to fit in between fighting the wildfire is a high that buck is able to ride (pun intended) for a while. i'm literally so addicted to this fic. erotic perfection.

knee deep in the passenger seat by @firstaudrina [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-08-2024 | Words: 9,039 | Rated E

What Buck liked best was that first thrill — a smile returned, a flirtatious joke — and then the heated next-next-next, all the things he still had to learn there.

aka Buck begins (in bed).

this ends with bucktommy, but it's a lot more than that and that isn't the draw of this fic. this is for the evan buckley lovers. this is like going to your favorite porn star's profile and watching a snippet of every single thing they've ever starred in. it's so good, it's so hot, it's so complicated. a great and very unique read.

bop it, twist it, pull it by @al-the-remix [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-14-2024 | Words: 21,642 | Rated E

“Hey!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, but Tommy still jumps a little beneath him. “Jesus, Evan, what–”

“You have a fucking dick piercing,” Buck half proclaims, half accuses. This is what Tommy has been holding out on all this time?

or

Buck discovers more about Tommy (and himself) through Tommy's piercings.

there's something about this fic that fits so perfectly into my fantasy of tommy. there's this punkishness about him in my head, and maybe that is a feeling that carried over from seeing pictures of lfj as a young, bulky, pierced scoundrel, but this story fits that image. super hot, a wealth of edginess.

fever's high with the lights down low by @kirkaut [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-07-2024 | Words: 11,731 | Rated E

No one has ever done this for him before. He didn’t even know how badly he wanted someone to do this - to think of him this way, to not only shoulder some of his weight but to want to - until this moment. Most people he’s dated have tended to give him a wide berth after a long, grueling shift, and he’d always thought that was what he wanted. It had been a little lonely, sure, but there wasn’t much he typically did afterwards that wasn’t refuel and rest.

Maybe he should have known better when it comes to Evan, who had jumped feet first into this relationship and never once looked back. Evan, who has worked these kinds of shifts himself and understands Tommy in a way that none of his exes ever have before.

Evan, who pours the love out of himself like it's as easy as breathing.

i remember reading this story for the first time. i was on vacation in a hotel bed, and i just felt so luxurious and indulgent getting to read this unbelievably hot, heartfelt story in utter comfort. it's the perfect analogy for how this fic makes you feel. it's pwp at its honest best.

engine purr by @epiphainie [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-16-2024 | Words: 15,010 | Rated E

“Oh! Yes. My car, my Jeep, I mean,” Buck said, gaze falling on the hands reaching for a rag. “It just sputtered and died on me right outside of town and there was no reception… I-I didn’t know what to do so I just… walked.” He swallowed and looked up again. “I thought I could call Triple A? Or maybe 9-1-1?”

The guy looked at Buck. There was a slight furrow to his brows, a tinge of bemusement in his eyes. The lines of his face were sharp and straight everywhere, but well-worn too, making Buck realize he was older than him by at least a decade and some change, if not more.

“That’s not for 9-1-1. And Triple A costs an arm and a leg if you don’t have a membership,” he said in a languid voice. “Lucky for you, though, you walked into this town’s one-and-only repair shop.”

buck takes a road trip before his new job, the jeep breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a small-town mechanic helps him out

my friend is a genius. okay full disclosure, au is not always my thing, and never my preference. i know that is a very unpopular opinion, but i think i am just very picky about it - but when it's done well, it can't be beat. this fic is fucking amazing and the age difference is a thing to behold. i always find myself so immersed in mimi's stories, particularly the dialogue. as i was reading this fic, i would find myself deep in one of buck and tommy's conversations and be so struck by how tangible and accurately articulated the characters are. in my own writing, i drag my feet over dialogue, never really knowing if something is too long-winded, or far too short. that happens to be mimi's strength, especially here - their conversations are perfectly paced, chatty, and true. beyond that, i could probably gush just as much over how hot the tension, build-up, and well-earned sex is in this fic. my fiancé called it the hottest bt she's ever read. by the way, even as i write this little blurb, my mind is saturated with images of tommy's apartment over his shop, and that is a true testament to the visceral and descriptive writing that is achieved here. i will wrap this up by saying i truly cannot wait until the next part in this story is posted! god, i love good writing.

in a yellow wood by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 11-10-2024 | Words: 9,847 | Rated E

It’s been three years since the break-up when Tommy saves a family and it upends his life.

He’s paying more attention to explaining what the various levers and controls do than he is to what’s going on in the hangar and his head whips around when he hears a familiar voice saying. “Kam, the whole point of leaving my kid with you was to not take him to work.”

this is one of two break up/make up fics that i hold very dear. there are things that ring very true about it, and things that are legitimately haunting. they're apart for years - right from the jump, that is a sobering revelation. buck has a baby. buck doesn't look like he used to - his hair is shorter, he has a slighter frame. his life, his body, his world has changed. but he wears the maturity well, and he wears fatherhood well, and tommy wants in and he fucking earns a seat at the table. he earns love, he earns a family. it's a fucking beautiful rosy picture of what a future could be. it's so special, and so healing.

closet conversations by @eyesonstars-feetonground [ao3 profile]

Published: 11-12-2024 | Words: 10,599 | Rated M

Six months is a long time to stick around if he thought you’d dump him.

OR

After his boyfriend dumps him, Evan Buckley goes on a date, makes a new friend, has some conversations, and realizes he's queer. Tommy haunts him every step of the way.

this break up/make up is a triumph. very, very special to me. my favorite thing about this story is that it is a love letter to queer media and culture. this fic grabs one of the loosest threads of buck and tommy's canon relationship and pulls and pulls at it, taking a closer look at what it means for buck to date and fuck a guy for six months but not be able to correct some girl that he was on a date (for his six month anniversary, no less), or correct maddie that he isn't gay. it's one of so many things that deserves closer analyzation, and it's done so brilliantly here. buck and queerness go so, so well together - i am desperate for more carefully constructed analyses and stories like this one.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[thef1diary]

Love Unwrapped | L. Norris

Summary: after mutually breaking up, you and Lando drifted apart. However, on your birthday, Lando shows up unexpectedly with a gift, reigniting old feelings.

— part of the Birthday Bash fics

warnings: angst if you squint, fluff.

pairing: lando x fem!ex!reader

wc: 1.6k

main masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

As you sit alone in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of the moonlight casting dancing shadows on the walls, you can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. It's your birthday, but this year feels different somehow—empty, without the usual excitement and celebration.

Just as you resign yourself to a quiet night in, there's a sudden knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts. Surprised, you glance at the clock. Who could it be at this hour?

Opening the door reveals a familiar figure standing on your doorstep, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's Lando, holding a small gift bag in his hand and a larger bag in the other.

"Hey," he says, his voice warm yet tentative. "Happy birthday."

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. "Lando? You remembered?"

He chuckles softly, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Of course I did. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Mind if I come in?"

You step aside, allowing him entry into your humble abode. "Of course, come on in."

As Lando enters, you can't help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance—the confidence in his posture, the newfound ease in his smile. It's as if he's grown in the time since you last saw him, even if it was just one month ago.

"Take a seat," you offer, gesturing towards the couch. "Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?"

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, thanks. I'm good."

You both settle onto the couch, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thick fog. It feels like it's been so long since you've been alone together like this, and the unfamiliarity of the situation is palpable.

"So, um, how have you been?" Lando finally breaks the silence, his voice hesitant.

You sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness flooding through you. "I've been okay, I guess. Just trying to keep busy with work and stuff. How about you?"

He nods, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, same here. Work's been keeping me pretty occupied."

You nod but hold back on mentioning that you have been following his season in Formula One, watching every race despite the ungodly hours it required you to wake up at.

The conversation falls into a comfortable rhythm as you catch up on each other's lives, sharing stories and laughter like old times. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there's a sense of familiarity between you that refuses to fade.

Suddenly, Lando reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a neatly wrapped box, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, got you something."

Your eyes widen in surprise as he hands you the gift. "You didn't have to," you mumble, aching to tell him that his presence was enough.

"Open it."

With trembling hands, you carefully unwrap the gift, your heart pounding in anticipation. When you finally open the box, you're met with the sight of something you've always wanted—beautiful dainty necklace adorned with smaller diamonds, one that you'd admired countless times in the store but could never bring yourself to buy.

You've been saving up for this dainty piece for a while, but never expected that Lando would give it to you as a gift.

You're speechless, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. Lando watches you anxiously, waiting for your reaction.

Finally, you manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, this is... It's amazing, thank you.”

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can't quite place. "I saw you staring at it at the store a while back, so I thought this would be the right moment to get it for you."

You're overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, by the fact that he remembered something so small yet meaningful. It's a reminder of why you fell for him in the first place.

"You know," Lando begins, his voice soft but filled with sincerity, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately... about us."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, uncertainty mingling with anticipation in the air between you. "Oh? What about us?"

He shifts slightly on the couch, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I miss what we had," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken longing. "The late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way we just... fit together."

You swallow hard, the memories of your time together flooding back with startling clarity. "I miss those things too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando reaches out, his hand finding yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign. "I know we said we'd remain friends," he says, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, "but... I can't shake the feeling that there's still something between us. Something worth fighting for."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and uncertainty. For a moment, neither of you knows what to say, the silence stretching on uncomfortably.

He wasn't wrong, you had parted as a couple but still promised to remain friends. That promise was left unfulfilled because of your different lives taking you on different paths. It was the reason why you had broken up in the first place.

Then, you gather your courage, meeting his gaze with determination. "I feel it too," you confess, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "But... I'm scared, Lando. Scared of our love not being enough for each other again."

Lando nods in understanding, his eyes filled with empathy as he squeezes your hand gently. "I know," he murmurs. "But maybe... maybe we can take things slow this time. See where it leads us."

The idea fills you with both excitement and trepidation, the prospect of rekindling your relationship mingling with the fear of repeating past events. But as you sit there together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things will be different.

As the night wears on, the comforting embrace of conversation wraps around you and Lando like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had lingered in the air.

The soft flicker of birthday candles illuminates the room as he holds the cake for you, waiting for you to make a wish and blow it out.

You look at him before closing your eyes, already knowing what you want to wish for before blowing out the few lit candles in one quick breath.

You say, "I can't believe you got me a cake," as you cut into the rich chocolate cake and give him a slice on a plate before taking one for yourself.

Lando chuckles, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Of course I did. After all, what's a birthday without cake?"

You smile, the sweetness of the gesture warming your heart. "It's delicious. Thank you, Lan." The nickname easily slips from your tongue, as if you never stopped saying it, and his heart warms knowing the feeling of familiarity never died down.

As you continue to talk and laugh, the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to midnight, marking the end of your birthday. But for now, in the glow of moonlight and the warmth of Lando's company, time seems to stand still.

Eventually, the inevitable moment arrives when Lando has to leave. You walk him to the door, the weight of the conversation earlier hanging heavy in the air between you.

Lando turns to face you, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I don't want to rush things," he begins, his voice soft but determined, "but I also don't want to let this chance slip away."

You nod, meeting his gaze with hope, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "I don't either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle smile, Lando reaches out and cups your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. His thumb brushes against your lips, feeling the softness he desperately wants to feel against his own lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice still soft in fear of ruining the moment. Placing your palm on his cheek, you nod.

Without wasting another moment, he closes the gap between you, placing his lips on yours.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you standing there in the middle of your apartment, joined by the shimmering moonlight. As you fall back into the familiarity of his lips on yours, you realize that this is where you belong—here, in Lando's arms.

It's a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a kiss that speaks of new beginnings and endless love.

When you finally pull away, your heart is pounding in your chest, the warmth of Lando's lips lingering on yours like a sweet memory.

"I'll give you some space to think about it," he says, his thumb brushing against your skin in a tender caress. "But just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready.”

You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. But as you watch him leave your apartment, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips—a smile filled with hope for the future, and the possibility of love rekindled.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @oliviah-25 @regalbanshee

[cultofcipher]

Bill Cipher thoughts (BoB Spoilers Ahead)

I'm really sitting on how Bill's displayed so much of himself indirectly in the BoB. How during the Love section he denies having exes, marking them out. How said exes show up SEVERAL times scratched out or are regarded with this bitterness of someone who did NOT do the breaking up part. Bill got dumped. Every time. And is desperately trying to bury his feelings.

And that's something I think the Book of Bill really highlights in a way. The fact that Bill has feelings. That deep down he's a broken triangle. It's all over the book's writing. Him pointing out how to use denial and rationalization and other bad coping mechanisms to basically ignore and lie to himself (and show us how to do it) and basically convince himself that he is as heartless as he tries to be. Him avoiding his exes. The tone he uses and the avoidance really giving the "I don't handle breakups well and I'm still petty about it". Him constantly telling himself that he's fine. He's not fine. Him crying over Ford leaving and getting wasted. Him being bitter about the henchmaniacs not calling. His regret over what happened to his world. His loneliness. GOD his loneliness. His self-hatred. His scathing remark about definitely NOT having some tragic backstory that humanizes him and how he's not an "I can fix him case". Calling himself a monster. His longing for home. The "Last one breathing". The "I tried to change the past". The "my hands shaking, as I realized I could never undo the". The "until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe". The goddamn "I don't want to die alone" Valentine's card. The last few pages. Just, the last few pages. That isolation, his pained "I'M FINE". The almost sad plea for someone to let him out.

Bill cares. He's fucked up, unstable, violent. But he does care about people he gets along with and he feels understand him. For every "I'm just playing the bit" and using people with nice gestures, I think a fraction of that is somewhat genuine. And he hates it. He hates his own vulnerability. He hates his lack of apathy. He's denying himself his own emotions constantly under so many layers of distractions, eldritch horrors, and repression. He can't think about home, about failure, about how every relationship he's ever had, platonically or otherwise, ended. And it wasn't on his terms.

Him talking about/to his mom when he's drunk. How his mom called him Billy as a kid. How his home life sounded simple. How Bill as an individual is anything BUT simple. And how his drunken state holds such fondness for that simplicity, yet it was suffocating. How he would've broken free eventually, inevitably, because he knew that's who he was. It's his nature. He was destined for more.

How it cost him everything.

How he's constantly chasing insanity like it's a drug. Like he needs the power trip to stay high. To not think too hard. To drown out his emotions and his self-reflections and everything he hates about himself.

How in Gravity Falls he still tried to get Ford to side with him after everything, cause that was his vulnerability showing, for the slightest glimpse of a moment. Cause he doesn't want to do it alone. Him reaching out to the reader in his book, because he doesn't want to do it alone. Can't do it alone. Even when he eventually betrays that person, I think him offering Ford that cushy spot alongside his henchmaniacs makes me think that yeah, Bill actually would've upheld his end of the deal.

He thinks he wants multiversal domination. He thinks Weirdmageddon is his Magnum Oppus. His purpose. But he's so lost. If he ever does get what he wants, he won't know what to do with himself. He'll be faced with the "Now what?". He'll hit the end of the road and realize how unsatisfying it is. How this isn't what he wanted.

How lonely it is to be God.

I think the Axolotl sees that in Bill. It's why he doesn't try to destroy him or attack him or anything. He sees that inner self of Bill. Sees him for what he really is. Someone who needs a LOT of therapy, a true, honest to goodness friend or partner in his life, and maybe a more sustainable life purpose or hobby. He has so much potential and in a way his pursuit of power, rather than being an actualization of his abilities, is a waste of them, because it gets him nowhere.

And he needs help, even if he doesn't think he does. He's a depressed alcoholic frat boy trying to drown his misery in a way that hurts and kills worlds. He's a girlfailure, a bisexual/pansexual disaster (he's at LEAST canonically bisexual or at MOST canonically pan cause this guy has dated both ways).

Bill's book is so incredibly amazing for what it is. All the lies, all the unrealiable narrator parts of Bill's facades and flaws and him being himself and all of his genuine thoughts and feelings bleeding through the lines and showing themselves but only in a way that you can really understand if you understand him and can tell when he's lying and when he's not. To see the real parts of him, and everything else. This book was perfect, and it was perfectly imperfectly him. This truly is Bill's book. It's so him in such a raw and genuine yet dishonest way. I'm gonna cherish this damn book forever.

[archangeldyke-all]

Idk if this got eaten or missed, but I had an idea of "modern sweetheart reader gets ghosted by her flakey gf (now very much ex), goes to a lounge to process and unwind, and has a meet-cute/hookup with Sevika."

Bonus points if Sevika gets to be smug about how well she takes care of reader 🤭

-🌙

aweee i feel like all u guys are going thru something right now haha this is the second ask i got about a recent break up :( hope this helps you feel a little better <33

heyyyyyyyy… how yall doin….. anyway how do we feel about sevika comforting you after a particularly bad break up and maybe she’s super sweet and you realize you love her idk just a thought *passes out*

men and minors dni

after countless nights falling asleep dreaming about your future with your girlfr-- ex-girlfriend, now; after endless dates, phone calls, and movie nights; after all the 'i love you's and 'you're my girl's... she's dumped you.

she didn't even have the decency to tell you she was dumping you. instead, she ghosts you.

she was never the best at communication and commitment, and sure, in the back of your mind you knew it likely wouldn't last... but that doesn't make this sting any less.

you've spent a week moping and feeling miserable, and tonight, you've decided you've had enough.

if your ex can't see what she's missing out on-- that's not your fucking problem. you aren't going to waste away a perfectly good friday night wishing she felt differently.

you've put on your best outfit, spritzed yourself with your favorite fragrance, and now, you're going to your favorite bar. you're going to dance until you forget about women all together.

well, that's your plan.

it turns out breakup grief can catch up to you even three drinks deep on the dance floor.

the dj switches from something fast and mindless to something slow and sexy. couples start grinding against each other, and you're hit with a wall of loneliness.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

you stumble out of the bar and into the street, trying to keep your tears from falling as you push through the crowds. just when you think you're home free, you trip and fall right into a woman smoking against the front wall of the bar.

"fuck-- fuck, i'm sorry." you whimper, your tears finally falling freely.

"shit, are you alright?" you blink up from your feet and sob. of course you've bumped into an angel when you're in such a pathetic state. "are you hurt?" the woman asks as she gently pulls you out of the foot traffic on the sidewalk, under the awning of the front of the bar.

"'m okay." you mumble. "'m so sorry, i just-- rough night." you explain as you swipe your face.

the woman frowns at you. "somebody bothering you?" she asks.

you snort and shrug. "no, no. more like somebody's not bothering me."

the woman chuckles. "bad breakup?"

"i wish. she didn't even give me the chance to make it bad." you mumble.

she cringes. "y' got ghosted?" you nod. "damn. people are fuckin' idiots. who in their right mind would ghost you?"

you snort. "you don't even know me."

the woman gives you a long look up and down, and you feel heat curl in your stomach. "i know a catch when i see one." she says eventually.

you bite your lip. "and what's your name, charmer?" you ask. the woman chuckles and holds a hand out for you to shake.

"sevika." she introduces herself, giving you a firm shake. you give her your own name. she doesn't drop your hand. "y'know... i've never seen you around before."

you shrug. "my ex didn't like to dance."

"your ex sounds like a fuckin' asshole. why are you cryin' over them?"

you shrug again, a little more unsure this time. "i guess i'm just... lonely."

sevika giggles and squeezes your hand. "well, that's easy to fix. come dance with me." she suggests, tugging you back toward the bar. you blink.

"a-are you serious?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "it's not every day a beautiful girl runs crying into my arms." she says. "thought i'd take a chance."

you laugh. "you do realize you're the most beautiful person in this entire building, right?" you ask. sevika cackles, squeezing your hand again and pulling you toward the dancefloor.

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @leeidk87

[fayelero]

— SPACE SONG ! kenma kozume

syn : your boyfriend is rather distant because of his streams but make it up to you

wc : 3.4k

tw : angst, smut, fluff, timeskip!kenma, afab!reader, ruined orgasm, missionary then cowgirl, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, reader get drunk (not during smut)

Kenma Kozume, once a skilled setter for the Nekoma High School volleyball team, had transformed his passion for gaming into a lucrative career. His YouTube channel and Twitch streams boasted millions of subscribers, eagerly tuning in to watch his expert gameplay and witty commentary. His fame had skyrocketed, leading to numerous sponsorship deals with major gaming companies, each vying for his endorsement of their latest releases.

You stood in the doorway of Kenma's state-of-the-art gaming room, watching your boyfriend of nearly a year as he sat hunched over his setup. The glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face, his cat-like eyes darting across the screens as his fingers danced over the keyboard and mouse. You couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness, despite being in the same room.

"Kenma," you called softly, careful not to disrupt his stream. "Do you have a minute?"

Without taking his eyes off the game, Kenma responded in a low voice, "Not now. I'm in the middle of a crucial match."

You sighed, used to this response but still disappointed. "I was hoping we could talk about our plans for the weekend. Maybe go out somewhere?"

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly, more from concentration on the game than your question. "This weekend? I have a sponsored stream for that new MMORPG. It's a big deal."

"But we haven't had a proper date in weeks," you protested, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Kenma paused for a split second, his character on screen momentarily idle. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of guilt and irritation. "Look, I know it's been busy lately. The channel's growing faster than ever, and I can't pass up these opportunities."

He turned back to the game, his fingers resuming their frantic pace. "Do you want something? Use my credit card as you like, buy anything. And don't disturb my work hours," he added, his tone indifferent as he refocused on the live match.

You felt a lump forming in your throat. "It's not about the money, Kenma. I just want to spend time with you."

But Kenma was already back in his gaming world, his microphone reactivated as he called out strategies to his teammates. You knew he wouldn't respond now, not with tens of thousands of viewers watching his every move.

As you turned to leave the room, you caught a glimpse of the chat flying by on one of the monitors. Fans were speculating about Kenma's personal life, some wondering if he was single. You remembered the conversation where Kenma had asked to keep your relationship private, fearing the impact it might have on his career and your privacy.

Now, standing alone in the hallway of your shared apartment, you couldn't help but wonder if there was room for you in Kenma's life of pixels and paychecks. The sound of his voice, animated and engaged with his audience, drifted from the room behind you, a stark contrast to the quiet, disinterested tone he had used with you moments ago.

You made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps heavy with disappointment. The sleek, modern appliances and granite countertops that had once excited you now felt cold and impersonal. As you leaned against the kitchen island, the emotions you'd been holding back finally broke through.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for Kenma to hear you crying over his livestream. The contrast between the enthusiastic voice coming from his gaming room and the silence of the kitchen where you stood alone was painfully stark.

With shaking hands, you pulled out your phone and opened your group chat with your closest friends.

You: Hey guys. Anyone up for going out tonight? I really need to get out of the house.

Ami: What's wrong? Everything okay with you and Kenma?

Yuki: I'm free! Let's hit that new club downtown. You sound like you could use a girls' night out.

Hana: Count me in. We'll cheer you up!

You: Thanks, girls. I just... I need a distraction. Things have been tough lately.

Ami: Say no more. We've got your back. Meet at my place at 9?

You: Sounds perfect. I'll be there.

You wiped your eyes, feeling a small sense of relief. At least you had friends who cared and were there for you. As you headed to the bedroom to get ready, you could still hear Kenma's voice, now punctuated by occasional laughter and excitement over some in-game achievement.

"I'm going out," you called out, knowing he probably wouldn't respond or even notice your absence.

As expected, there was no reply. You sighed, picked out an outfit that made you feel confident, and started getting ready. The night out with your friends wouldn't solve the underlying issues in your relationship, but at least it would provide a temporary escape from the loneliness that had become all too familiar in your shared apartment.

As you applied your makeup, carefully concealing the evidence of your tears, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could continue like this – loving someone who seemed to exist more in the digital world than in the real one beside you.

–

As you arrived at Ami's place, your phone buzzed with a message. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was from Kenma.

Kenma: Where are you?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: I'm out with the girls. Told you I was leaving.

Kenma: Oh. When will you be back?

You: Not sure. Don't wait up.

You stared at your phone, half-hoping he'd say something more, express concern, or ask you to come home. But no further messages came.

"Everything okay?" Ami asked, noticing your frown.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, just Kenma checking in. Let's go have some fun."

The four of you piled into a taxi, the excitement of a night out slowly lifting your spirits. As you approached the club, the pulsing beats could be heard even from the street.

"This is exactly what you need," Yuki said, linking her arm with yours. "A night to forget about everything and just dance."

The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the music. The DJ was skilled, mixing tracks that kept the energy high. You and your friends found a spot on the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to relax.

As you danced, the rhythm pulsing through your body, you tried to push thoughts of Kenma aside. But every now and then, you'd catch yourself checking your phone, hoping to see a message from him.

Hana noticed and gently took your phone. "Hey, tonight is about you, okay? Let's live in the moment."

You nodded, grateful for your friends' support. The night continued, a blur of dancing, laughter, and overpriced cocktails. For hours, you lost yourself in the music and the company of your friends.

It was nearly 2 AM when you stumbled out of the club, your feet aching but your heart lighter than it had been in months.

"Thank you all so much," you said, hugging each of your friends. "I really needed this."

As you got into a taxi to head home, the euphoria of the night began to fade, replaced by the reality waiting for you. You wondered if Kenma would still be awake, if he'd noticed your absence, if he'd care that you'd been out so late.

The taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you inside. As much as you'd enjoyed the night out, you knew that come morning, you and Kenma would need to have a serious conversation about your relationship and your future together.

As you fumbled with your keys, the door suddenly swung open. Kenma stood there, his hair disheveled and eyes wide with concern.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

The sudden show of affection, combined with your inebriated state, caught you off guard. You giggled, your words slurring slightly as you spoke.

"Kenmaaa," you drawled, poking his cheek. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a cutie? 'Cause you are. Such a cute kitty."

Kenma's brow furrowed with worry as he realized your state. "You're drunk. Come on, let's get you inside."

As he guided you into the apartment, you stumbled, nearly falling before he caught you. "Whoopsie! My hero," you giggled again.

"I'm so sorry," Kenma said, his voice thick with remorse. "I shouldn't have ignored you earlier. I didn't realize you were so upset."

You waved your hand dismissively, nearly hitting him in the face. "S'okay. You were busy with your millions of fans. Who needs a girlfriend when you have millions of fans, right?"

Kenma winced at your words. "No, that's not... I've been terrible to you. I'm so, so sorry."

He helped you to the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed, your world spinning. Kenma knelt beside you, gently removing your shoes.

"You know what?" you said, your voice suddenly serious despite your drunken state. "I miss you. Even when you're here, I miss you."

Kenma's face crumpled with guilt. "I know. I've been selfish and blind. I promise I'll make it up to you."

He helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

As you sipped the water, Kenma busied himself getting you comfortable. He helped you change into pajamas, brought a bucket in case you felt sick, and made sure you had painkillers nearby for the inevitable hangover.

"There," he said softly, tucking you in. "Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

You nodded sleepily, already drifting off. Just before you fell asleep, you felt Kenma's lips press gently against your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't shown it lately. That's going to change."

As sleep overtook you, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

–

As you slowly regained consciousness, your head throbbing and your mouth dry, you became aware of movement in the room. You cracked open an eye to see Kenma looking at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

You groaned in response, your voice hoarse. "Is it morning already?"

Kenma chuckled lightly, taking in your disheveled appearance. "It's almost noon, actually. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," you mumbled, slowly sitting up.

"Come on," Kenma said, helping you to your feet. "I've made coffee. It should help."

You shuffled after him to the kitchen, squinting against the light. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you.

As Kenma busied himself pouring you a cup, you leaned against the counter, watching him. Something felt different, but in your hungover state, you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Then suddenly, a realization hit you.

"Wait," you said, your brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't you have a stream right now?"

Kenma turned to you, coffee in hand, his expression serious. "No, I cancelled it."

"You... cancelled it?" you repeated, stunned. Kenma never cancelled streams, especially not sponsored ones.

He nodded, handing you the coffee. "I cancelled all my streams for the next few days, actually. We need to talk, and you're more important than any sponsorship or subscriber count."

You took a sip of coffee, trying to process this information. "But... your career, your fans..."

Kenma shook his head, cutting you off. "They can wait. I've been neglecting what really matters - you, us. I realized last night how close I was to losing you, and I never want to come that close again."

Despite your hangover, you felt a surge of emotion. "Kenma..."

He took your free hand in his, his golden eyes meeting yours. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I got caught up in the success and forgot about the most important person in my life. Can we talk? Really talk, about us and where we go from here?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "Yeah, we should talk."

Kenma squeezed your hand gently. "Finish your coffee, take a shower if you want. I'll be here when you're ready.”

As you settled on the couch, Kenma positioned himself between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. Your fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, gently running through the soft strands. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on either of you.

"I've missed this," Kenma murmured, nuzzling closer.

You smiled, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. "What, using me as your personal pillow?"

He chuckled softly. "Among other things. Your touch, your scent, just... you."

"Careful, Kozume," you teased. "Keep talking like that and I might think you actually like me."

Kenma tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what if I do more than like you?"

Your heart fluttered at his words. "Prove it," you challenged playfully.

In one swift motion, Kenma sat up and cupped your face in his hands. His golden eyes locked with yours, full of warmth and affection. "Challenge accepted," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

When you parted, you couldn't help but grin. "Not bad for a gamer boy."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "Gamer boy? I'll have you know I'm a gamer man."

You laughed, pulling him close again. "Oh really? Then show me your high score, gamer man."

He smirked, leaning in for another kiss. "Game on."

As you feverishly clutched each other, all the pent-up desire from months apart erupted into a frenzy of passion. The hunger and longing was palpable as you devoured each other's lips, your hands greedily exploring every inch of skin. Words were unnecessary as your bodies spoke their own language, a primal dance of pleasure and release. There was no need for discussion, only the wild abandon of two lovers reunited at last.

Kenma's hands slid under your sweatshirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck as his lips met your skin. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp as he squeezed your breasts gently. "I need you," you moaned, craving more of his touch. With each kiss, the desire between you grew stronger, igniting sparks of passion like wildfire. Your breaths mingled, creating a symphony of pleasure as the world around you melted away. In that moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heartbeats and the overwhelming feeling of being consumed by each other.

As his skilled fingers traced a path over the fabric covering your heated core, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his hungry mouth. "That's it, baby," he murmured against your lips, his movements becoming more fervent. With a quick swoop, he removed your panties and shorts, exposing your now throbbing center to the cool air. As his fingers continued their maddening circles, his tongue eagerly explored your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. Just as you felt yourself on the brink of ecstasy, he abruptly stopped, leaving you flushed and wanting. "Kenma..." you breathed out, pleading for him to continue.

He slowly removed his pants, revealing the outline of his erect member through his underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he said confidently as he peeled off his underwear, causing you to gasp in excitement. You couldn't help but admire the size and girth of his throbbing cock as it stood proudly before you. He smirked at your reaction and teasingly rubbed the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy. "Look how wet you are," he whispered huskily in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he pulled back and only brushed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper with frustration. "Please," you begged, gripping onto him tightly as he held your thighs apart. Without hesitation, he thrust himself into you fully, causing you to moan loudly into his neck. Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronization as he pounded into you with every ounce of strength and passion he possessed. And for that moment, nothing else existed except for the two of you locked in an ecstatic embrace.

With a predatory gaze, he slowly undressed, revealing the outline of his impressive erection through his tight underwear. "I'll show you just how much of a man I am," he growled with confidence as he slid off his underwear, exposing a throbbing and girthy cock that made your mouth water with desire. He smirked at your obvious arousal and teasingly dragged the tip of his dripping pre-cum along the edge of your soaking wet pussy, eliciting an eager gasp from your lips. "Look how ready you are for me," he purred huskily into your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. But just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled back and only grazed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, making you whimper in desperation. "Please," you begged, desperate for him to fulfill your burning desires. With a feral hunger in his eyes, he gripped onto your thighs tightly and plunged himself inside you with a powerful thrust, causing you to cry out in pleasure and cling onto him desperately. Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, each thrust driving both of you closer to the brink of ecstasy. And in that moment, nothing else existed except for the raw passion between the two of you as you were consumed by unbridled desire and pleasure.

Your bodies collided in a frenzy of passion, each thrust causing your entire being to jolt with euphoria. The taste of his saliva lingered between your lips, igniting a primal desire within you as he devoured your mouth. "Kenma...'s t-too much...t-too good," you gasped, feeling yourself on the brink of explosion. But before you could surrender completely to ecstasy, he flipped you over and guided you onto him in the cowgirl position, his depths reaching even deeper inside of you. "Ride me, baby," he commanded, and with a few moments to adjust and find your rhythm, you began to ride him with reckless abandon. Your hands gripped onto his torso for support as you moved together in perfect harmony, both moaning and groaning in ecstasy. His words of praise only fueled your desire as you picked up speed, feeling the rough friction between your bodies. He grabbed onto your ass, guiding and assisting your movements as you cried out his name in absolute bliss. Every sensation was heightened in this position, every thrust and grind sending shivers of pleasure through your body as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure together.

Each powerful thrust sends you spiraling further into a state of pure ecstasy. Your cries reach a deafening crescendo, urging him to never stop as he takes you with an unrelenting force. His torso presses against yours, his head buried in your chest as he hungrily tastes and teases your sensitive breasts. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure consumes every inch of your body, building towards an explosive release that you can no longer hold back. With a final desperate cry of "Fuck! K-Ken...!", you both shatter into oblivion, consumed by the intensity of your passion until there is nothing left but the sound of heavy breathing and the taste of each other lingering on your lips.

As you both lay entwined in the afterglow, your hearts beating in sync with one another, a sense of peace and comfort washes over you. Kenma's arms envelop you protectively, and you can't help but marvel at how this gamer boy has turned into a man who thoroughly knows how to take care of you.

You trace your fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. "I love you, Kenma," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his own shining with love and devotion. "And I love you too, more than words can express." He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek in a tender caress.

Ⓒ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg