#because I’m going to be offline for a while

[lovemepartly]

of all days ✩ choi seung-hyun

part of the GD&TOP writing event | 🎵 of all days

warnings: none!

a/n: so excited to be part of this amazing writing event!! make sure to read everyone else's works ☺️

also i'm gonna be offline for a while so that i don't get spoilers for squid game season 3... but i'm slowly working on some new fics and requests!

 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

before it all slipped through your fingers, there was warmth.

you met seung-hyun through a friend of a friend, like most normal couples do. and he liked that— being a normal couple. when you met, it was at the peak of his musical career. he was touring with bigbang and working long hours every night, but you never saw that side of him. and he loved you for it. 

you learned the rhythm of each other quickly. he’d come home to you, leaving his shoes messily arranged by the door, and kiss you softly. when he was touring, you’d call almost every day. timezones didn’t matter, seung-hyun would stay up until 3am wherever he was just to talk to you. when he was on stage in seoul, he’d always invite you, getting you some private seats on the side of the stage on the balcony. it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see your face in the crowd, because he knew once the stage lift lowered him out of sight, you’d be waiting for him backstage, with the same comforting smile. 

on the nights where he wasn’t at the studio, he’d rest his head on your lap while you watched a movie, falling asleep almost instantly. you hardly ever liked the movie, but you always stayed still so he could sleep. some nights you’d stay up talking until sunrise. other times, he’d fall asleep mid-sentence and you’d kiss his temple softly, pulling the sheets over him. mornings with him were soft. he’d always compliment how you looked in the morning, wrapped in his arms, the golden light shining onto your bare skin. he never wanted to leave for work then, always pressing his forehead to yours and murmuring, “just five more minutes.” 

you used to joke that he only rested when you made him— and he used to say that was the point. with you, he could breathe. with you, he didn’t feel like an idol or a public figure or a product. he just felt like seung-hyun. and that, he told you once, was the most dangerous feeling of all.

the love was real. that might’ve been the worst part. the cracks started to form in your relationship quietly, without you realizing it. dates were cancelled, nights were spent waiting up for him to come home, and him just being gone too long. you never doubted seung-hyun’s love, but you started doubting if love was enough. 

it didn’t happen during a fight. there were no raised voices, no slammed doors. just a tuesday evening and takeout growing cold on the kitchen table. he was late again. you sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, flipping through a book you weren’t reading. seung-hyun walked in, hair damp from rain, discarding his shoes messily by the door like he always did. there was stillness. not a peaceful kind, but an ominous kind. 

“i’m sorry.” he murmured softly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, but not close enough to touch you. you nodded. because what else was there to say? 

it was almost worse that way. no dramatic final kiss in the rain. no tears. just a final silence that neither of you tried to fill.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

two months later. 22:16. seoul, south korea. 

he used to tell you “just one more tour.” you stopped asking when that tour would end. but now, it was actually over. for the first time in what felt like years, seung-hyun had nothing to do. and no one to come home to. 

he tried to keep busy by writing songs and going to the studio. he wondered if his name was still in your journal, the way yours never left his songs. 

he’d been distant at work and with the guys. jiyong told him to call you, but what he didn’t know was that seung-hyun’s call history was filled with outgoing calls. he knew you wouldn’t pick up— although, the fact that you hadn’t blocked him yet gave him hope. sometimes he just needed to hear your voice on the voicemail.

you picked up once, about a month ago. neither of you said anything. six seconds of silence. then, he hung up and the line went dead. 

tonight, he left the studio early, jiyong’s words ringing in his ears to call you. he thought maybe you’d pick up today. today, of all days, was what would’ve been your two year anniversary. 

it started to rain as he walked home, the pavement slick. he supposed it would’ve been poetic to continue walking, letting the rain drench him in his sorrows, but he decided to duck into a nearby coffee shop that was still open at the late hour to escape the rain. 

the bell jingled as someone walked into the cafe. you looked up, meeting eyes with seung-hyun. it felt like time slowed in that moment. he looked at you, his expression unreadable. you met his gaze, startled, but steady. he blinked once, twice, and after a second, walked up to the counter to order a coffee. 

you watched him, gaze still silently following him as he walked up to the counter. he waited by the counter for the barista to make his coffee, flicking his eyes over to you once, but you quickly looked away. 

he walked over to where you were sitting, placing his coffee cup down with a small clink on your table. you looked up to meet his gaze. 

“can i sit with you?” he asked, voice soft and low, just how you remembered it. 

you nodded almost automatically. “yeah, of course.” 

seung-hyun took a seat in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the handle of the coffee cup in front of him. he cleared his throat softly before lifting his gaze from the mug to look at you. “so, how have you been?” he asked awkwardly, but sincerely. 

“good,” you murmured softly, offering him a small smile, “i’ve been good. what about you?”

seung-hyun couldn’t help but notice the way your smile was polite now. not soft, not his. just a formality. “i’ve been good too.” he finally mumbled. he wanted to say something else, to tell you he was sorry again and again. 

“you look tired.” you murmured softly, eyes studying the dark circles under his eyes and solemn expression. 

your voice was etched with it’s familiar softness and concern. he wanted to laugh. he’d been tired since you left. “tour’s over,” is what he decided to say instead. 

you hesitated for a moment before softly replying, “i saw.” you did, online. but you also knew his schedule better than he did. 

your words caught him off guard. you saw. of course you did. he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it meant you still cared about him. 

“i’m proud of you,” you added, “i know how much that tour meant to you.”

he nodded softly. it did. not as much as you, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. he was able to cough up a small “thank you.” 

“still get plain black coffee?” you murmur softly, a small but genuine smile appearing on your face as your eyes flickered down to the drink in front of him before back up.

he nodded, returning the smile. “do you still get an oat milk latte?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, gaze soft as you looked at him. “i guess we haven’t changed all that much.”

that’s the problem, isn’t it? he wanted to say. “i guess not.” he paused for another moment before softly adding, “i was thinking about you today.” it wasn’t a lie—  he’d been thinking about you everyday since you left. but today, on what would’ve been your anniversary, it felt like the only thought in his mind. 

“me too.” you murmured softly. there was a silent understanding between the two of you. you remembered. he remembered. 

you didn’t say anything after that. you were unsure what to say. every single time you set your coffee cup down on the table, the sound was too loud. the rain outside tapped on the window like it was waiting. 

seung-hyun took a deep breath, blurting out the words before he could regret them, “it would be nice to get dinner sometime. now that i’m back in town.”

you nodded softly, biting the inside of your lip to hold back a small smile. “i’d like that.”

a silent hope filled the air between you two. you didn’t know what this meant. but for the first time in a long time, you were both sitting at the same table and neither of you were in a rush to leave.

writing event taglist: @szonyix6277, @raynamorono23, @mintymuse, @millytugby

[twopoppies]

.

[crescentlyautumn]

I think I’m finally free of the stomach bug! But boy howdy did it zap me of energy, let me tell you what.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i don’t think i’ve really been present mentally at all today. i’ve started to think i just zone out of everything way more often than i realise because there are moments where i do zone in and actually get a bit distressed because suddenly i’m so present and am not used to it at all. but today has just been especially bad with my sibling being a bit sick because suddenly i feel like a lot of the work i’ve done to not be on guard all the time is just gonna be gone. today barely felt real though like i was just going through the motions and wasn’t even thinking anything because my brain just wasn’t present

[lvl1l1]

How the LaDS men react to you leaving a note in their lunch

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x F!Reader(separate)

content: corny puns(i’m sorry), tiny bit suggestive, mostly fluff, mentions of meals being skipped in caleb’s

a/n: caleb’s and sylus’s a teensy bit longer bc i got carried away at end oopsies

Xavier

You and Xavier usually ate lunch together, be it after a mission or after training. Perks of being partners at work.

Today, however, was different.

Xavier had to join the analytics department for a debrief after a special solo mission.

He originally planned on flaking and leaving with you as soon as you had wrapped up your work.

But once you had persuaded him a bit with promises of spending the whole day together tomorrow and a long cuddle session tonight, he caved.

You patted his head as he was pouting at you and pressed a small box to his chest, before turning around and waving goodbye.

He barely registered the tupperware he was holding, as he longingly stared at your retrieving back.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at what exactly you had given him.

Taking in the silver box, he smiled to himself.

The corners of his lips turned upwards and he went to sit down on the nearest chair.

You expected him to eat it during a short break during the meeting, but he couldn’t wait that long, knowing you prepared something for him.

He was contemplating taking out his phone and telling you to come back and join him right now, eat the food you had made for him, together.

He stopped that train of thought, thinking to himself that he didn’t want to drag you back here.

With a slight shake of his head and sigh escaping his lips, he went to open the box.

The first thing he noticed was the amazing smell of whatever you had packed him, the second wasn’t the food but a little yellow note stuck to the roof of the lid.

“Hang in there, Xavie.

I’ll make it worth your while tonight ;)”

The tips of his ears turned red, he stared at the note before breathing out a chuckle.

You really knew how to motivate him, didn’t you?

Before he could linger on the note for too long, he heard a chipper voice behind him.

“Oh, hey Xavier! Mind if we join you?”

He saw Tara and Simone put their bags on the table he was sitting at.

He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement, immediately tuning them back out again after.

He hid the note in his pocket, thinking about how to repay you later.

Zayne

Zayne was used to you preparing his lunch for him, he considered you bringing him his lunch during his breaks as part of his work routine.

He loved getting to see you amid his packed schedule, finding a way to sneak in some extra time for you two to spend together.

Unfortunately, today you couldn’t drop by and bring it to him in person, since you had to go on a mission outside of town.

Instead, you had handed him his lunchbox this morning, kissing him on the cheek before heading out.

He usually looked forward to his break because he knew he’d be able to see you.

Today, that perk fell away, so once his break time rolled around, he kept on working on some reports.

Until he heard the notification sound he put specifically for you,

“Don’t forget to eat, Dr. Zayne!”

“I miss uuuu, can’t wait to see u later”

A small smile graced his lips, an expression you easily brought out of him.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be alright, as long as you’ll return in one piece later.”

Once he saw you were offline again, he put his phone away, finally taking out the lunchbox you had prepared for him this morning.

He placed it on his desk, taking the lid off.

He immediately noticed the small sticky note you had left.

“I’m “nuts” about you ;D enjoy your break, my love.”

Zayne silently quirked a brow as he read the message you wrote for him.

He shook his head as a quiet laugh escaped him.

His face went back to its usual deadpan expression.

If anyone were to walk in, he’d appear the same as he usually did. You’re the only one who would’ve been able to make out his hidden amusement.

Before he went to eating, he quickly pressed the sticky note to the frame of the picture he had of you two on his desk.

He was looking forward to welcoming you home tonight.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been whining all morning.

He was being forced to meet up with some art brokers outside of Linkon.

He had come up with 10 different excuses and 7 different plans on how to get out of this, yet all of his attempts were shut down. By you.

Talk about betrayal.

You had spent the entire morning talking him into going, saying how it would benefit him and how he should just make Thomas’s job easier for once.

Why couldn’t you understand that he just wanted to spend as much time with you as he could!!!

The next best idea in his mind was coaxing you into coming along.

Too bad for him, you already had plans for the day.

“Just get going already, you big baby.”

You had said to him.

“The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come back. Probably.”

You paid no mind to his heart clenching pout(self proclaimed) and just pinched his cheeks.

Before he could attempt anything else, like tripping over a brush and pretending to have broken his back, or blowing up his car(who knew what lengths he was willing go to, just to get out of work? You certainly didn’t want to find out.) you pressed a chaste but sweet kiss to his lips.

“Have a good day, Rafayel. And be nice to Thomas!”

And before he knew it, you were out of the door.

A groan left his lips, as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He was willing to go along with anything you had planned today, he just wanted to be with you a bit more.

Finally, wrapping up his sulking once he realised you weren’t coming back and he really did have to get going.

He grabbed his bag and left out the door you had disappeared out of, minutes before.

Fast forward a few hours later, he’d been sitting in some stuffy office, barely paying attention to what Thomas and the man sitting across from him were saying.

“Alright, let’s take five.”

At that, Rafayel perked up.

Immediately getting out of his chair and walking towards the door.

“Always nice doing business.”

Thomas gave him a pointed look,

“Rafayel, we aren’t done here yet. You better not take too long.”

The purple haired man hummed without looking back and left the building as quickly as he could.

While he knew Thomas was probably gonna think he left, as soon as he couldn’t find him inside, he didn’t care.

He got in his car and rested his head against the steering wheel.

He stretched and went to reach into his bag to grab his phone to text you, when he suddenly saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

There was a silver box sitting in his bag.

You sweet, cunning little thing.

He immediately pulled the lunchbox out, a look of intrigue in his eyes.

Of course, you wouldn’t just cruelly send him into hours of boring work, without rewarding him!

He took the lid off, being met with another sweet, sweet surprise.

Your handwriting immediately caught his attention.

“You’re doing amazing, baby!”

A chibi you doing a thumbs up next to the message,

and on the bottom you drew two stick figures holding hands, surrounded by hearts.

He chuckled quietly and if anyone told you about the lovesick look on his face as he stared at the tiny note, he would’ve sworn they were lying.

He reached back into his bag to grab his phone, snapping a picture of the note,

“seems like ur down bad for me lol”

You didn’t have to know about the goofy grin on his face as he ate whatever you had prepared.

Sylus

Whenever he could, Sylus would make sure you and him shared at least one meal together.

He knew, that due to your conflicting schedules, that wasn’t always possible.

By the time you’d wake up, Sylus’s day was slowly drawing to a close,

by the time you’d have lunch, Sylus would be fast asleep,

and by the time he’d wake up, you were finishing up the last of your work.

Yet he’d make an effort regardless.

Whether it be having breakfast, while you were eating your last meal of the day or keeping you company while he brought you breakfast, simultaneously getting ready to wind down after a night of work.

Obviously, that didn’t always work.

Sometimes you two would barely be able to see each other, missing one another due to your complicated relay race of a sleep schedule.

Today was one of those days.

Yesterday was your day off, but you had to get up early today to get to the Hunters Association on time, so you decided to catch up on some sleep and hit the hay early last night.

As Sylus had to get ready to leave, you had finished up your dinner.

Just as you got into the bedroom to call it a day, Sylus was heading out to tie up some loose ends.

With murmured declarations of love, you bid each other farewell. A quick kiss on the cheek, a soft peck on the lips and out the door he was and you were settling into bed.

Morning came rolling around, Sylus was taking longer than usual.

Before you knew it, you had to head out of the door, taking one of Sylus’s many cars to drive back to Linkon City,

not before sending him a quick text, though;

“I’ll get going now. Rest well, Sy!”

By the time he had gotten back to the base, you had long been gone.

He rubbed his eyes as he read your text.

Feeling groggy, he decided to skip his last meal and texted you back a good night message.

Once he had woken back up, he was half expecting you to be back, laying next to him but to his disappointment, you were no where in sight.

He headed to the kitchen as he checked the time.

5 pm. Surely you’d be coming back soon.

Sylus found Luke and Kieran lounging around the fridge and he quirked an eyebrow at them,

“You two usually don’t show your faces here, unless it’s time to eat.”

The twins looked at him, Luke scratching his neck and Kieran going back to looking around the kitchen,

“Well, boss…”

“Your bad luck struck again.”

“Very unfortunate, indeed.”

“Mhm, mhm!”

Sylus looked at them unimpressed, waiting for them to elaborate.

Luke and Kieran looked each other, silently trying to get the other to break the news to him.

“You see,”

“You might’ve just missed…”

“Miss hunter, boss-man.”

“Mhm, you totally missed her, boss.”

“She just left actually.”

Sylus could feel a headache forming, squinting his eyes at his henchmen.

“She was here? Why would she leave so soon, then?”

The twins shrugged in unison. Mumbling something about how unpredictable hunters were.

“She actually got here a few hours ago,”

“Said she didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Something about you needing the sleep.”

He heard one of them snicker, he couldn’t care enough to glare at the one who did.

Sylus ran a hand through his hair and a pointed look was enough to send the twins scurrying off.

He made a mental note to subtly complain to you about this later.

His mood souring after finding out he just missed you by a hair, he decided to have someone bring his breakfast up to his office, as he turned on his heel.

He spent the day in his office, working through a pile of reports and modifying Mephisto.

He sent you a few texts in between but gathered that you were busy, considering the lack of responses.

He was starting to think he shouldn’t have worked on Mephisto today, curious to see what you were up to, that was so much more important than answering his texts.

At around midnight, a knock resounded on his door.

“Come in.”

His hopes that it might just be you crushed, as he saw one of the twins walk in.

“Yo, boss-man, we were told to make sure you take a break. Instructions from the boss of all bosses.”

He placed a lunchbox on Sylus’s desk and disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.

Mephisto started cawing, reminiscing a laugh.

Sylus shut him up with a flicker of his gaze.

He reached for the black box and opened it.

His lips curled upwards into a half smirk as his eyes landed on the post-it note.

“The anticipation of seeing you later is driving me crazy.

Now, eat up!”

He could read you like an open book, even when you weren’t with him, yet having you be so open about your feelings made something inside of his chest bloom.

Even when you were busy, you still made sure to leave your mark on his day one way or another.

The soft look in his eyes was only ever reserved for you and he couldn’t wait to show it to you.

Don’t think he’ll forget about how you didn’t answer his texts, though.

Caleb

Growing up, Caleb always packed your school lunch.

He would cook for you whenever you were home.

And even when he wasn’t home, he’d make sure you were fed one way or another.

That habit never stopped as you two got older.

He loved cooking for you, it’s the reason he learned how to make all of your favourite dishes.

You always wanted to return the favour but a good moment never presented itself.

From starting college and becoming a pilot to becoming the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, his discipline only increased and so did his love for you.

Just when on earth could you find the time to make food for a man who got up at the ass crack of dawn to work out and make you a nutritious breakfast.

Well, once you found out that this same disciplined man skipped his own meals in favour of getting his work done, you decided to step your game up.

You had it all planned out, you’d take a few days off without telling him, meal prepping for him and getting to his apartment in Skyhaven without telling him.

As you arrived at his place and unlocked the door, stepping inside, your phone vibrated.

“Whatcha up to, pips? ;)”

You squinted around the room trying to see if he had any cameras inside.

Arriving at the conclusion that he probably(hopefully) just got a notification from his door being unlocked, you texted him back.

“Got the day off, gonna wait here until you come back.”

You felt your phone vibrate a few more times after you tucked it back into your pocket, you made your way to his fridge.

Wishing he could see your face of absolute disbelief at the sight of his pathetic fridge.

Empty. Entirely empty, aside from a few apples.

Who lives like this?

Does this man live off of apples?!

You placed all the tupperware you had prepared ingredients in, in his fridge.

Some rice, boiled veggies and proteins.

You’d have to give him a good talking to about this later.

A weird feeling settled in your chest, realising he only really takes good care of himself when you’re around, which is also just a by-product of him taking care of you.

With a sigh you closed his fridge, one more lunchbox remaining at the bottom of your bag.

Still ignoring the messages he had sent you, you left his apartment again.

Caleb was lounging in his office, he still had some time before he had to attend another meeting with the other Colonels and their subordinates.

He was wondering why you weren’t answering him, he was about to check the cameras around his apartment, when a knock resounded in his office.

He put his phone away, knowing he was about to get busy again.

-

His authoritative steps echoing through the emptying hallway.

The nurses and soldiers hurrying off after seeing his annoyed expression.

He paid them no mind, as he unlocked the door to his office.

As soon as he stepped inside, he took his hat off, running a hand through his hair.

Caleb couldn’t care less what the other people working there thought of him.

He gets his work done and he gets it done well.

Nothing else mattered, yet he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at these stuck up old men who dared to doubt his capabilities, be it out of sheer jealous or fear.

They got another thing coming, if they think they could mess with him.

He doesn’t take lightly to his duties, and he doesn’t take lightly to protecting you.

You. That’s who all this was about.

He would put up with about anything, as long as it meant you’d be safe.

Because you were everything to him, his sweet pipsq-

He lost his train of thought as he spotted the silly lunchbox sitting on his desk.

A pattern of red and green apples on it, decorated with stickers that had started to wear off.

It’s your old lunchbox.

He looked around his office, a grin finding its way onto his lips.

You’ve always been a sly one.

He sat down in his chair, inspecting the childish box.

As he took a look inside he was hit by the smell of braised chicken wings.

But he immediately lost interest in the food as soon as he saw the note you had snuck inside of the box.

“Learned from the best.

Eat well and rest well, Caleb.

Or you’ll have to face my fury >:(“

He chuckled to himself, you managed to get into his office undetected, just to drop off some lunch for him?

Caleb loved taking care of you.

It’s what he lived for, but he couldn’t lie.

He liked the feeling of you looking out for him as well.

You always manage to make all his doubts and worries disappear.

He’ll have to get creative with thanking you later.

[rmview]

accidentally leaking their relationship, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader  ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys end up leaking their relationship accidentally!

contents — crack, fluff, no warnings.

bang ♡ chan

bang chan was always meticulous about keeping your relationship under wraps. as the leader of stray kids, he knew how quickly rumors could spiral and wanted to protect you from unnecessary scrutiny. but even someone as careful as him could make a mistake.

it happened during one of his famous live broadcasts. chan was sitting in his studio, casually chatting with fans as he fiddled with some tracks on his computer. he was explaining his latest project when a notification popped up on his screen. without thinking, he clicked it, and for a brief second, a picture of the two of you appeared.

it wasn’t anything scandalous — just a selfie of you leaning against his shoulder, both of you smiling softly. but it was enough. the comments exploded almost instantly.

who was that??? is chan dating someone??? did i just see a girl??? that girl was me guys, chill

bang chan’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened. “oh, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, trying to think fast. “that was… an old picture! a friend sent it to me earlier. sorry about that, everyone!”

he quickly ended the broadcast, his heart racing as he leaned back in his chair. a million thoughts ran through his head — had anyone managed to screenshot it? what would the company say? more importantly, what would you think?

when he called you later to explain, you laughed softly, though he could hear the worry in your voice. “it’s okay, chan. it was bound to happen at some point.”

“no, it’s not okay,” he insisted. “i promised to keep this private for your sake, and i slipped up.”

“you’re human,” you reassured him. “and besides, we’ll handle whatever happens together, right?”

hearing your calm voice eased some of his guilt. “yeah, together,” he said softly. “but i’m still going to be extra careful from now on.”

felix ♡

felix adored you, and while he was determined to keep your relationship private, he sometimes let his excitement get the best of him.

the leak happened when felix was baking cookies during a live broadcast. fans loved his warm, cozy streams, and he often shared stories and tips while he worked. as he was mixing dough, his phone lit up with a message from you. without thinking, he glanced at it and smiled.

“sorry, guys,” he said, holding up the phone. “just got a cute message from…” he froze, realizing what he’d just said, gaze falling to the chat that erupted with curiosity.

from who??? felix, are you hiding something??? who’s the cute message from???

felix’s face turned beet red as he stammered, “uh, from my… my friend! yeah, just a good friend.” he laughed nervously, quickly changing the subject to the cookies.

after the stream, he called you in a panic. “i think i messed up,” he admitted, pacing his room. “i almost said too much!”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “relax, lix. it’s not the end of the world.”

“but i want to protect you from all this,” he said, his voice laced with guilt. “i don’t want you dragged into the spotlight because of me.”

“felix,” you said softly, “i know you’ll do your best. and no matter what happens, i’m not going anywhere.”

his heart melted at your reassurance. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured. “but i’ll be more careful. promise.”

lee ♡ know

lee know was famously private, so the idea of accidentally exposing your relationship was something he had nightmares about. he was cautious, always double-checking everything he posted and keeping personal moments strictly offline.

the slip-up came during a group photoshoot. the boys were filming behind-the-scenes content for fans, and lee know had forgotten that he’d left your bracelet on his wrist. it was subtle — a simple silver band engraved with your initials — but eagle-eyed fans didn’t miss a thing. as the content was uploaded online, surprised comments flooded in.

is that… a couple bracelet??? whose initials are those? lee know, explain yourself!!!!

when he saw the comments later, lee know’s heart sank. he immediately called his manager, working out a way to downplay the situation. “it’s just a gift from a close friend,” he said during a live broadcast, keeping his tone neutral.

later that night, he came over to your place, still visibly upset. “i’m sorry,” he said as soon as you opened the door.

you tilted your head, confused. “for what?”

“for being careless,” he said, holding up his wrist. “i should’ve taken it off before the shoot.”

you smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “minho, it’s okay. it’s just a bracelet. and honestly, i’m kind of proud they noticed — i like seeing you wear it.”

his lips twitched into a small smile. “you’re too understanding.”

“i trust you,” you said simply. “and no matter what happens, i’m not worried.”

lee know wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. “i’ll be more careful next time. but i’m glad you’re not mad.”

“i could never be mad at you,” you teased, making him chuckle softly.

hyun ♡ jin

hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, and his love for you was something he carried with him everywhere. he was cautious about keeping your relationship private but couldn’t help tiny, subtle slips — moments where his affection for you shone through.

the leak happened during a spontaneous live broadcast. hyunjin was lounging on the couch, answering fans’ questions, when someone asked about the small ring on his pinky finger. without thinking, he smiled.

“oh, this?” he held it up, admiring the simple band. “it’s, uh… special to me.”

the chat exploded:

special? like… how??? hyunjin, tell us the truth!!! guys chill that was my anniversary present to him

realizing what he’d done, his eyes widened slightly, and he quickly tried to play it off. “it’s just a good luck charm,” he said with a nervous laugh, switching topics to his latest dance project.

after the live ended, hyunjin flopped onto the couch, groaning into a cushion. he called you immediately, his voice full of guilt. “i messed up. they noticed the ring, and i think they know it’s from you.”

you laughed softly on the other end of the line. “hyunjin, it’s not a big deal. they don’t know for sure.”

“but i feel like i betrayed your trust,” he said, sitting up. “i promised to be careful, and now people might start guessing things.”

“hyunjin,” you said gently, “you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. we’ll handle it together, okay?”

hearing your reassurance made him feel a little better. “i’m so lucky to have you,” he murmured. “but i’ll be more careful — i don’t want anything to put you in a tough spot.”

jeong ♡ in

jeongin was naturally shy, and dating you was something he kept close to his heart. he wanted to protect your privacy, knowing how overwhelming things could get if the public found out. but even he wasn’t immune to slip-ups.

it happened during a group photoshoot. as the members joked around, jeongin absentmindedly pulled out his phone to check a message from you. a staff member teasingly asked, “who’s got your attention so much, innie?”

without thinking, jeongin blushed and muttered, “just my —” he caught himself, but the damage was done. his hyungs immediately caught on, and a few snickered. “your what, jeongin?”

the teasing moment was captured on camera and uploaded to a behind-the-scenes video. fans were quick to pick up on his slip, speculating about who he might be texting.

jeongin panicked when he saw the comments later. “they’re going to figure it out,” he fretted, pacing his room as he called you.

you tried to calm him down. “jeongin, it’s fine. people speculate all the time — it doesn’t mean they know anything for sure.”

“but what if they do?” he asked, his voice small. “i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

you smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “i trust you, and i’m not worried. just be yourself, okay? you don’t have to carry this alone.”

his heart swelled at your words. “you’re too good to me,” he said quietly. “i’ll do better — i promise.”

han ♡

han tried to keep your relationship private, but his naturally playful and forgetful nature meant he occasionally slipped up. one of those moments came when he was recording behind-the-scenes content for a vlog.

as he was showing off his desk setup in the dorm, the camera accidentally panned over a sticky note on the wall that read, “love you, idiot - y/n.” fans immediately paused and zoomed in, and the comment section blew up.

who’s y/n??? han has a girlfriend??? explain yourself to our kids, han jisung!!!

han didn’t notice the uproar until much later, when staff informed him about the growing buzz online. his first reaction was pure panic. “what? how did they see that?!”

he went back to the dorm and immediately called you. “i think i messed up big time,” he admitted, pacing nervously. “your name showed up in the vlog, and people are already talking about it.”

you chuckled softly, though you could tell he was freaking out. “jisung, it’s okay. it’s not like they know anything else.”

“but they’ll start digging,” he groaned. “what if they find out more? i hate the thought of you being dragged into this.”

“hey,” you said gently, “we’ll figure it out. i’m not mad, and i trust you to handle it.”

he sighed, sitting down on his bed. “you’re way too understanding, you know that? i’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. you deserve better than this kind of stress.”

hearing the guilt in his voice, you reassured him once more. “i’m not worried, jisung. just promise me you’ll stop beating yourself up about it.”

he smiled, feeling a little better. “promise. i’ll be more careful — for you.”

seung ♡ min

seungmin was always composed and cautious, but even he wasn’t immune to the occasional slip-up. he valued your privacy deeply and did his best to ensure your relationship stayed out of the public eye. however, the unthinkable happened during a live broadcast with the group.

the members were joking around when a fan asked who among them was most romantic. changbin teasingly pointed to seungmin, and someone else chimed in, “yeah, seungmin’s probably the type to write love letters.”

seungmin, caught off guard, laughed and muttered, “well, y/n likes —” he froze mid-sentence, realizing what he’d just said. the room fell silent for a beat before the other members burst out laughing to cover for him.

“who’s y/n, seungmin?” hyunjin teased, but seungmin waved it off, cheeks flushed. “no one! i meant, uh, someone i know…” he mumbled, quickly redirecting the conversation.

after the broadcast ended, seungmin rushed to call you. “i slipped up,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “i said your name. people might connect the dots.”

you chuckled, trying to calm him down. “seungmin, it’s okay. it was an honest mistake.”

“but i promised to protect your privacy,” he argued, guilt evident in his tone. “i don’t want this to affect you.”

“seungmin,�� you reassured him, “you’re overthinking it. it’s not like they have any proof. let’s not stress over something we can’t change.”

he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “you’re always so calm about these things. i don’t deserve you.”

“you’re doing your best,” you said softly. “and that’s more than enough for me.”

seungmin smiled, feeling the tension in his chest ease. “i’ll be more careful from now on. you mean too much to me to let this happen again.”

chang ♡ bin

changbin had always been an affectionate boyfriend, often expressing his love through sweet words and gestures. however, his bubbly personality and tendency to speak without thinking occasionally got him into trouble.

the slip happened during a studio vlog. changbin was casually showing off his recording setup when his phone lit up with a notification. the camera caught the preview of your text, which read: “don’t work too hard today, okay? love you 💕”

he didn’t realize it at first, but eagle-eyed fans did. within minutes of the vlog’s release, screenshots flooded social media, sparking speculation about who the message was from.

when changbin finally saw the comments, his heart sank. “oh no,” he muttered, replaying the clip and realizing what had happened.

he immediately called you, his voice a mix of guilt and worry. “i messed up, babe. your message showed up in the vlog, and fans are already talking about it.”

you were silent for a moment before laughing softly. “changbin, it’s okay. these things happen.”

“but i should’ve been more careful,” he argued, pacing his studio. “i don’t want you to deal with any negativity because of me.”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, “i’m not upset, and i’m not worried. if anything, it’s kind of sweet — they saw how much you care about me.”

her words made his chest tighten with affection. “you’re way too understanding,” he said, his voice softening. “but i’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. you don’t deserve to deal with any stress because of me.”

“you’re overthinking it,” you teased. “but if it makes you feel better, i trust you to be careful next time.”

changbin smiled, his heart feeling lighter. “thank you for being so amazing. i’ll make it up to you — i promise.”

notes: hope you guys enjoyed reading this because i enjoyed writing it a little too much xD

[scholarhect]

basically what this post is about is whether your typical masculine/feminine relationship roles line up with “important person” service relationship roles (don’t quote me on that phrasing). leader-protector / led-protected vs leader-protected / led-protector. of course i’m a lot more familiar with the former, and obviously driving is coded as masculine. so the question is, is that because it’s coded as leadership/dominance, or as protection/acts of physical service? the thing about these two is they’ve got a pretty strongly defined relationship that is not familiar in our society, at least for normal people. so if you want to adapt them to our society, it becomes a little complicated. you’ve got to decide what to do with it

ok real one

[myfictionaldreams]

⁀➷ The Forbidden Room // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader

Summary: A forbidden part of Hogwarts calls to the Marauders. What starts as curiosity quickly turns into something deeper, darker. The room gives them what you desire… but it takes just as much in return. A dark, magical descent into pleasure, pain, and love that refuses to break—even when everything else begins to.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, dark(!), dubious consent, magical coercion, forced orgasms, dom/sub, restrained, dvp, big dick! Remus, rough nipple play, belly bulge, rough sex, gaping, subspace, praise kink, oral (f+m receiving), injuries from rough sex, passing out from sex, aftercare

Words: 6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The start of the term feast had always been a loud and brilliant affair, but this year, the air was tense. Tension radiated from the professors. Something about the way Dumbledore had stood a little too straight. How his eyes hadn’t twinkled quite the same. Hogwarts was older than any of them could truly grasp, but tonight, even the stones felt older still, as if the building was holding its breath.

Candles floated overhead, their flames flickering from invisible drafts. The chatter of students buzzed around the Great Hall, but at the Gryffindor table, four students huddled in close, caught in their own gravity.

You were pressed between Remus and Sirius, one of your lers draped over the other as you absently picked at your treacle tart, while James leaned in across the table, whispering in a voice that was far too conspiratorial for a school setting.

“He’s going to say it,” James said in a hushed tone, eyebrows furrowed. His jet black hair curling slightly from the effects of the misty rain that you’d all just walked through. “I bet he says it this year.”

Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically. He was lounging back with his boots propped on the bench, looking like royalty slumming it in school robes. “Prongs, love, if you say that again, I swear I’m hexing your eyebrows off your pretty little face.”

Remus huffed beside you, ever the calm anchor to their chaotic buoyancy. He wasn’t touching his food either, but that was because he was watching the staff table with an unnerving stillness, his fingers tapping silently on the table beside your hand.

You nudged him gently with your elbow, “Remus.”

He turned, his eyes softening. “Sorry, my love. Just…  watching.”

James wiggled his fingers dramatically. “The wolf senses are tingling.”

“He’s always like this before a full moon,” Sirius added, fond despite the teasing.

“It’s not for another week,” Remus muttered absentmindedly, but his hand finally found yours beneath the table, lacing your fingers together as his thumb stroked over a scar on the back of his hand.

Then Dumbledore stood.

The hall fell instantly silent. Cutlery paused mid-air, conversations cut off mid-sentence. Dumblefore scanned the room with that eerie kind of stillness, his beard resting neatly against his robes.

“Welcome back, students,” he began, voice echoing without magic. “Before we celebrate the return to our halls, a reminder: as ever, sme areas of the castle remain offline. But this year, I must be absolutely clear: the corridor at the far end of the East Wing, beyond the silver Stair, is not strictly forbidden.”

He paused. The room remained silent. Even the boys seemed to be holding their breath. “An uncontrollable magical accident occurred over the holidays. Do not attempt to enter. We cannot guarantee your safety. And I heed this warning to everyone.”

He emphasised his last word, tilting his head to stare over the rim of his spectacles, looking pointedly at the Marauders.

Your heart dropped. Remus stiffened beside you. James sat upright for the first time all night. Sirius, he smiled. “Well,” Sirius whispered as everyone continued with their conversations and eating. “That sounds like an invitation to me.”

By the time the four of you stood before the Silver Staircase three nights later, the hallway was thick with dust and the scent of forgotten stone. The Marauder’s Map, clutched in James’ hand, glowed faintly with enchanted ink, its intricate lines twitching like veins.

You were wrapped in your cloak, arms crossed against the chill. “You know this is stupid, right?”

“Oh, darling,” Sirius said, grinning, “You know we never let a little stupidity stop us.”

“She’s right,” Remus said quietly, though he stood a step behind you, hand on your lower back. “We shouldn’t stay long.”

“But it’s the last bit,” James said, the boyish excitement in his eyes making him appear hyper. “The map’s complete except for this wing.”

You looked up at him, at the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks, the smudge of ink near his thumb, and felt your resolve waver.

Remus leans in close, his breath warm on your ear. “We’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

And so you walked.

The corridor was narrower than expected, the ceiling lower, the stone darker. Tapestries hung rotted and ripped, as if time had moved faster here. The silence was different. It had a weight to it, thick like velvet.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whistled lowly. “I think I like it.”

“That says more about you than the hallway,” you tutted.

James let out a short laugh and then paused. “Wait. Look.”

At the far end of the corridor stood a door. It hadn’t been there a second ago. It wasn’t on the map. No knobs. No markings. Just deep, polished wood and the thrum of magic in the air. Remus stepped in front of you. James moved closer, fingers twitching.

“It feels wrong,” Remus voiced wearily.

“It feels like fun,” Sirius replied, never backing down from caution.

Your palm pressed to the wood before you even realised you’d done it. Being drawn to the door. The door clicked.

It opened.

The room was warm. That was the first thing you noticed. Not just heated, warm in the way skin feels after a fever breaks. The air shimmered faintly, like mist catching candlelight. The chamber was draped in deep crimson and gold, fabric floating lazily from the high, invisible ceiling. A fire crackled somewhere beyond sight. There was no dust. No cobwebs. The room breathed.

“It looks like the Gryffindor Common Room if it got sagged by a bordello,” Sirius said reverently.

A single four-poster bed stood in the centre—giant, scarlet and velvet. The mattress indented as if someone had just risen from it.

“It reacted to her,” James said suddenly, his voice a little too quiet.

You turned. “What?”

“The door. The room. None of it happened until you touched it.”

Remus steps toward the bed. “This is powerful magic.”

“It wanted her,” Sirius mused, no longer joking.”

You felt it then, a hum under your skin, as if the room were listening. Waiting. Your mouth was dry. Then the door slammed shut behind the four of you.

The moment the door slammed shut, silence swallowed the air around you. Spinning instinctively, fingers fumbled with your wand, but there was no handle on the door anymore—just flat, polished wood behind you, warm to the touch and pulsing faintly with magic. No seams. No lock. It had simply vanished into the wall.

A flicker of unease clawed its way up your spine.

“Well,” Sirius broke the silence, his tone light but his eyes flicking with alertness, “That’s ominous.”

James stepped forward and tried pushing the wood with both palms. Nothing. Not even a creak. He pulled the map from his pocket, only to find it blank. The ink bled away the moment he opened it.

“Blood hell,” he breathed.

Remus’s eyes were scanning every corner of the room. Always methodical. Always looking for the source. He took a step closer to the four-poster bed and crouched, running his fingers over the floorboards beneath.

“There’s something here,” he said under his breath. “Something old. This isn’t just a concealed chamber. It’s woven magic. Sentient.”

You stayed near the doorway, pulse loud in your ears. “Why would Dumbledore leave this?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.

Remus stood again, brushing his palms together absently. “He didn’t leave it. He did warn us not to come here.”

“We just didn’t listen,” James added, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes softened when he saw your expression. “Hey. It’s alright. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“And if we don’t,” Sirius said, slinging his arm over your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your temple, “ we live here now. It could be worse. Good lighting. Silky bedding. Plenty of wine-coloured drapes to make me feel dramatic.”

Despite yourself, you snorted.

But the magic in the air didn’t feel like a joke. It felt like it was listening. Reacting. The bed was no longer. Instead, the sheets had arranged themselves neatly, smooth and inviting. Four long silk ties now hung from the bedposts, dangling just enough to catch the flickering golden light.

Your stomach twisted. Remus noticed. He stepped toward you and rested a hand gently on your waist. “Do you feel it too?”

You nodded. “Like it knows I’m here.”

Sirius leaned against the bedpost and tilted his head toward you. “Does it feel bad?”

You hesitated. The boys watched you quietly. They always did this– held space for you to speak, even when the room didn’t. You searched for the right word.

“It doesn’t feel bad. Just…intimate. Like someone’s already touched me and I didn’t realise until just now.”

A beat of silence. Then Remus whispered, almost impressed. “It’s reading your magic. Your intent and your need.”

James looked between the three of you. “And if that’s true, what is it finding?”

The question hung there. You didn’t answer. But the room did.

The fire flared, not violently, but in acknowledgement. The bed shifted. The mattress dipped ever so slightly, as if it were inviting weight to settle upon it. One of the silk restraints lifted somewhat off the post, curling gently, lazily, like a finger beckoning.

Remus’ eyes darkened. Sirius stood straighter. James exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.

“It wants to give you something,” Remus wondered. “Or take something from you.”

You swallowed thickly. “But what if it’s both?”

James stepped forward first, not toward the door, not toward the exit that no longer existed, but toward the bed. He brushed his fingertips across the silk, watching it dance around his knuckles.

“I think it’s safe,” he said, glancing back at you. “I think it only does what we ask. What you want.”

Sirius was already toeing off his boots, as if he’d decided the room wasn’t a threat but a gift. “If this is a trap, it’s a blood luxurious one.”

You caught Remus’ eyes. He hadn’t moved; he never rushed. He watched you with careful understanding, his voice quiet and subdued. “We don’t have to. You say the word, and we sit on the floor and wait this out together.”

But you didn’t want to sit on the floor. You wanted to feel them.

The air trembled as your decision took form in your chest. You took one step forward. Then another. Until your knees brushed the edge of the mattress.

“You want us?” James asked again, voice low.

You nodded. “Always.”

Remus moved behind you, hands warm on your waist. Sirius took your hand, kissing the knuckles. James leaned down to press his lips to your shoulder. And the silk restraints, almost gleeful, curled tighter around the bedposts.

The room pulsed like a heartbeat, and the magic began to hum.

As James brushed his lips along your shoulder and Remus’s hands gripped your waist from behind you, you felt the first flickers of it: the room responding to you. Not to your words, or your touch, but something deeper. Something primal.

Your desire.

The air shimmered again. The velvet curtains above pulsed like lungs, inhaling slowly. Candlelight flickered lower, deeper. A chaise longue you hadn’t noticed before melted into the floor. Everything extraneous faded away, until it was just you, your boys, the bed and the tension widening between all of it.

The silk ties coiled tighter around the bedposts, no longer lazy in their movements. They stretched invitingly, waiting to wrap around your wrists. The bed seemed larger now, too, stretching beneath you, padded, soft, perfectly shaped to your body.

You let out a shaky breath. “It’s reading me.”

Remus’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Then tell it what you want.”

And you did without a word. You lie back.

The bed caught you like a lover’s hands, the sheets cool against your spine and then warming instantly. Silk restrains slid gently around your wrists, not tight, not binding, just enough to remind you that you were giving up control. But only to them.

James straddled your legs, dark eyes blown wide with adoration and lust, hands skipping up your thighs to push your skirt higher. “She wants to be touched first,” he murmured. “To be wished.”

The roomflared.

Sirius was already at your side, kissing your neck, sucking marks beneath your ear, one hand splayed against your ribs as he whispered, “so pretty like this. All laid out, waiting for us.”

Your shirt unbuttoned itself.

A gasp escapes your lips as the room joins them in the teasing, fabric slipping open with no hands at all, revealing your bra and barestomach. You saw James’ jaw clench. Remus exhausted through his nose. Sirius groaned.

Then their hands were on you.

James kissed down your stomach with urgency. Sirius took yourbra covered breastsin his mouth and hands, his tongue hot and wet, groaning as he sucked your nipple through the material. Remus, still clothed, stood watching for a long moment, eyes glowing gold, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

He didn’t touch himself. He didn’t speak. He simply watched them devour you. You could feel the heat of his hunger from across the bed.

James slipped down between your thighs, pressing kisses over your knickers, teasing you with maddening gentleness. “This is what you want, love? You want my mouth here first?”

Theroompulsed again, and the remainder of your clothes disappeared.

James let out a strangled laugh. “Right. Got our answer.”

And then he was burying his face between your spread thighs, groaning against you, licking long, slow stripes with practised precision. You cried out, back arching, wrists pulling instinctively at the restaurant's. Sirius hummed approvingly around your breast.

“Oh, she’s wound tight already,” James mumbled between licks. “You’re gonna come so fast for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You barely managed to nod, too distracted by Jjames lips sucking harshly on your throbbing clit. The room grew hotter. The air sang with magic, like it was anticipating your orgasm too, and when it hit, you shattered.

The walls shuddered with a golden ripple. The lights brightened, then dimmed again. The bed groaned low beneath you.

James kissed your thighs as you twitched. “One down.”

Sirius kissed up your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses to your lips as his fingers pinched your hardened nipple. “Think you’re ready for me now, darling?”

You were dazed, breathless, already nodding.

He slide between your legs, chanting soft words against your skin as he gripped his cock, pushing the tip into your eargly awaiting hole, stretching you just enough, curlinghis hips perfectly, pulling pans from your mouth. He didn’t thrust hard. Not yet. The room wouldn't let him. It wanted to savour.

Sirius bent low, forehead against yours, chest pressed to your breasts, whispering, “You feel so good. Every time. So warm. So tight. Like you’re made for us.”

You were already sensitive from your first orgasm, your inner walls tightening with every thrust as Sirius moved without urgency, in and out with slow, methodical movements. His pelvis pushing down against your clit as he moved.

He held eye contact, intense and nodding as your whimpers become more desparate, your cunt clinging to him like a lifeline as everything tightened and tightened until you were peaking into euphoria.

Sirius came with you, a groan and a kiss, his tongue carressing yours as he spilt deep inside of you, whispering your name like a secret.

And then Remus finally moved. 

You felt it before you saw him. The weight in the room shifted.

James kissed your knee. Sirius pulled back slowly, reluctantly, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face.

You turned your head. Remus was naked but your eyes zoned in on his huge cock.

Even after everything, even after knowing him, being with him, you were still at the sight of him. His cock was long, thick, heavy and already leaking. You could barely wrap your fingers around him when you tried.

Sirius and James were already well endowed, filling you to your limit and leaving your pussy pulsing from use. But Remus? You’d be limping after a quick fuck.

He crawled onto the bed, eyes never leaving yours.

“She needs to be ready,” he said, voice hoarse as his eyes continued to search over your body.

James and Sirius helped, moving into action at Remus’s voice.

James kissed you again, fingers dipping between your thighs to spread their release further, prepping you. Sirius rubbed your hips, “breathe, baby. You can take him. You always do.”

Remus lined himself up. His hand shook. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“I want to hurt a little,” you whispered.

The room moaned with you.

When he slid in, slowly, carefully, stretching you wider than you could ever prepare for, you gasped. The sting made your toes curl. Even after James and Sirius, even after the teasing, Remus still made your walls ache to accommodate him.

“Fuck,” he grolwed. “You’re so tight. So good. So fucking perfect.”

He moved with care, but with growing force. Each thrust left you whining. Each drag of his cock made your body feel more open, more raw, more claimed.

The room sang with every sound you made. It matched you.

He was so big. You were already so sensitive, it felt like an endless orgasm was contorting through your cunt as he moved with more vigor than Sirius. By the time he came, his deep inside you, you were whimpering beneath him, stretched wide and panting.

He pulled out slowly, and the movement he did, you felt it, the emptiness. And wet.

Sirius let out a soft sound of awe as Remus gently opened your thighs again. “Fuck. She’s gaping, Moons. You wrecked her.”

Remus brushed a kiss to your knee. “She’s perfect.”

The room dimmed slightly, holding you in that warm, dreamy space after. Magic still pulsed softly in the walls.

And deep in your belly, where Remus had been, you could feel the aftershock of him, the ache, the emptiness, the echo of fullness so deep it had nearly touched your core.

The room knew what you wanted. And it had only just begun.

The room has changed now.

The afterglow from Remus had barely faded. You were still sprawled on the velvet sheets, your limbs heavy, your cunt sore and slick. Yet the air shifted again, like the bed exhales beneath you ��a slow, thick breath of darker magic curling around your thighs.

James noticed first. He had been tracing shapes into the bare skin of your leg, soft and seamless, when his fingers slowed.

“It changed,” he whispered.

Sirius, lounging nearby, cock still halfhard, blinked up toward the ceiling. The gold light had dimmed to a deep garnet. Shadows spilt in from places they hadn’t before. The concerns bled into black.

Remus sat at the edge of the bed, and when he looked at you, his expression had changed. Hungrier, darker, as if some leash inside him had slackened.

“She wants more,” he said. But it wasn’t a question.

The bed creaked once more. The sheets beneath your body grew warmer again, slicker, almost damp like arousal made fabric.

You wanted to close your legs. You couldn’t.

The silk ties reformed around your thighs. Not your wrists and not gently either. They slide across your inner thighs and pull. The room opened your legs for them. For you.

James swallowed audibly. “It’s rereading her. Fuck.”

“No,” Remus said lowly, standing now, looking over the bed. “It’s obeying her.”

You whimpered. You weren’t afraid. Not really. You were high on them, on magic, on the flood of something warm and subspace-sweet dripping into your chest like melted sugar.

Remus knelt between your legs. You could already feel the wetness there, your body leaking from earlier—the soreness and the stretch. You were so open, so exposed to them.

He didn’t touch you yet. Not with his hands.

He blew a breath against your slit, and your whole body jerked. “Still so sensitive,” he spoke deeply. “And you want more.”

A mewl slipped past your lips. The shadows on the wall shifted in response.

Sirius stood next. His smirk was gone. His face was stern. But his cock was hard again. And James? He looked dazed. Flushed. Gone somewhere deeper, his pupils blown.

“Tell us to stop,” James said firmly. “Please. If it’s too much, remember your safe words. Red to stop. Yellow to pause. Green to continue.”

You nod in understanding, breathing their names like a blessed dream. They took that as permission.

Sirius straddled your chest, his cock heavy and flushed and pressing against your lips. James took his place beside you, hands tangling into your hair, turning your head as Sirius pushed in.

“Open up, darling,” Sirius cooed, his voice dark silk. “There we go. Merlin, you look perfect with my cock down your throat.”

You gagged, just once, and the bed moaned. The walls pulsed.

Remus was watching it from between your legs. Watching your throat stretch around sirius whilst your cunt twitched open for him. You were soaked—a mess. And still, you wanted more.

“You want to be used,” he said gently. Not cruel. Just stating a fact.

And then he slid in.

You screamed around Sirius’ cock, a wet choked nosie, as Remus’ massive length stretched your sensitive alls again. It hurt and burned. You were still so raw from earlier. But your body welcomed him like it always did – clenching, fluttering, dripping.

He didn’t wait.

He fucked into you with a pace that left you sobbing. Deep, deliberate thrusts that made you feel it in your gut. Your stomach bulged slightly with each push. James saw it first.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, hand splaying across your lower belly, jsut above your pubic bone. “Look. She’s taking all of him. You can see it.”

Remus growled. Ferally growled. He gripped your thighs, pulling them higher, tighter. The silk at your thighs pulled too, straining to let him in even deeper.

“Can feel her clenching,” he bit out. “She loves this.”

Sirius came down your throat with a low groan. Pulled out slowly, your lips swollen, your eyes glassy. Subspace had dragged you under.

You weren’t speaking anymore; you were just whimpering. Moaning and letting it all happen. James replaced sirius at your mouth, but not with his cock–with his fingers. Two of them, down your throat.

“Breath for me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Take it. That’s it. So fucking good for us.”

Your throat spasmed around his fingers. Your cunt spasmed around remus.

He fucked you harder and faster. Like he needed to break you open.

The room shifted, breathing with you. And then, a mirror appeared on the ceiling.

You could see it. Your body, tied down and used. Remus’ cock spltting you open, visibly bulging your belly. James shoved his fingers between your lips; your eyes rolled back.

And shadows.

Other versions of you. Reflected on the walls.

Naked. Begging. Crying. Taking cock after cock. Smiling through tears.

One shadow whispered, Please don’t stop.

Another: break me.

You came. Harder than before. Your entire body locked, then convulsed. Your legs shook violently. Your vision went white.

Remus didn’t stop. He kept fucking you through it. Forced orgasm after forced orgasm, even as you sobbed and begged and arched into James’ chest.

You didn’t remember your safe word. Couldn’t even think what it was. Couldn’t speak it. The room knew. It dulled your fear, thickened your haze, and made your body crave.

James kissed your temple. “Just one more, darling. Let Sirius have a turn. You can do it. One more.”

You moaned in agreement, tears streaking down your cheeks. Remus pulled out, and Sirius slid into your already-gaping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re ruined,” Sirius groaned. “So swollen and so messy. Still begging for more.” He fucked you rough and fast. His hands found your nipples and pinched, tugged, and rolled them until you sobbed.

James joined him. He leaned in and bit your breast, tongue flicking over the peaked flesh. One of them sucked. One bit. Again and again until your nipples were raw, and puffy just like your pussy.

Remus hovered near your head, hand stroking over your scalp. “That’s it, love. You’re so good. So fucking good for us.”

You whmpered. Your body jerked. Sirius’s pace faltered. He was close.

“One more,” James said again, eyes locked on Remus. “Let’s give her everything.”

Remus moved behind you.

“No,” you gasped. But it wasn’t a safe word. It didn’t stop. The room knew the difference. James lifted your thighs.

Remus pressed against your perineum, his tip pushing against Sirius’ cock.

And then, you took both of them.

Sirius and Remus, both in your swollen cunt, stretching you impossibly wide.

You screamed. It was too much. It hurt. It split you. But it burned with something deeper, a need you didn’t understand. They moved in tandem. Both of them, in and out, thrusting, grunting and praising.

James kissed you, held your face, and let you sob into his mouth.

You didn’t know where you ended and they began/ and then you came.

Again. Again. You lost track until you passed out. Until your body gave in, and the room purred, sated again.

The room was quiet now. Too quiet.

You lay in the bed, limp and slick with sweat, throat sore, limbs trembling from the aftershocks of something you couldn’t even name. The air was still thick, but the magichaf slowed, coiled inward, resting, like a beast that had finally fed.

Your body felt hollow. Overused. Your cunt throbbed from being stretched too wide, too deep. Every breath scraped against your ribs. But it wasn’t just your body that ached.

Your mind was fogged, bruised at the edges. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. But beneath it, something else. More.

The room still whispered.

Sirius sat on the floor with his back to the wall, arms around your knees, head bowed low. He hadn’t spoken since he’d pulled away, breathless, his release cooling on your chest.

James was pacing. Not like Sirius had. James was unsteady, frantic, running a hand through his hair again and again, muttering under his breath.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Something’s wrong. We shouldn’t have–we shouldn’t–”

Remus hadn’t moved. He sat at the edge of the bed, hunched over, holding his hands. His body was still naked. His cock half-hard. His thighs are slick with you. He hadn’t even cleaned himself.

You managed a breath. “Remus,” you rasped. It didn't sound like your voice. He flinched. Your voice was the thing that broke the silence.

Sirius looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed. James stopped pacing and looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. Remus turned slowly.

“I hurt you,” he said, voice cracking. “I–Merlin, I knew it, I felt I–but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to.”

You blinked at him. He looked devastated. Haunted.

“No,” you whispered. “I wanted it.”

“You didn’t want that,” Sirius said, finally finding his voice. “Not all of it. Not like that. That wasn’t us.”

James’s hands were shaking. He held up the Marauder’s Map. It was still blank.

“I think it’s affecting us. The room. It’s inside us. It’s changing what we think we want.”

You tried to sit up, but your body screamed in protest. Your belly was tender. Your thighs felt like jelly. You collapsed back with a small gasp. Remus was beside you in a moment. His hands were gentle now, trembling as they hovered over your skin without touching.

“I should have waited, I should have seen it.”

You looked up at him. His green eyes were full of guilt, full og longing. Full of love. “I wanted it,” you repeated softly. “But something’s wrong. I don't know where the wanting ends and the magic begins.”

James knelt beside the bed, his hand came to rest on your ankle. “We need to get out,” he said. “This place, it's not just responding to desire. It’s creating it.”

You glanced toward the mirror. Still there. Still full of your reflections. But they looked different now. No longer cruel. Now they were watching. Some pressed their hands to the glass. Some mouthed words you couldn’t hear. Yu looked away.

Sirius pushed himself off the floor, his limbs stiff and uncoordinated. He crossed to the bed and lay down beside you, carefully, pulling your hand into his. He kissed your knuckles.

“This isn’t us,” he admitted. “We’re us. We tease, we protect, we love, we never hurt.”

You looked between the three of them—your boys. Remus, still shaking. James, frantic. Sirius, silent and circled your hand like a man who’d almost lost it all.

You closed your eyes. “We have to fight it,” you said.

The room listened. Feeling the ripple through the mattress. The whispering stopped. But the shadows didn’t leave. And in the corners of the room, the magic held its breath again. Waiting.

The air shifted again. Not with heat or hunger, but with tension. A stillness that felt final. Like the room knew, you’d made a decision.

James was the first to move. He reached for the Marauder's Map again, though the parchment was useless at present. He held it close.

“I think it’s listening,” he said. “Like it always was. But now we’re speaking back.”

Sirius stood behind him, arms wrapped around himself. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by something quiet, worn.

Remus, now dressed, was not his usual calm, but was trying to cover his shame. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. But his hand never left your leg, resting there like an anchor.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to sit up again, slowly.

It took effort. Your body still throbbed, but not in pleasure. “We have to try, together.”

James nodded.

“I think it’s a door. Or a prison. But it’s built on what we want, right? So maybe–maybe we have to want out more than we want to stay.”

Sirius gave a dry laugh. “Easier said than done. It gave us everything. Dark, twisted, perfect little fantasies. And we liked them.”

“I hated it,” Remus said, his voice hoarse. “Even when I liked it.”

The room heard that. The candles dimmed further. You stood. Slowly, with Sirius’s help. Your knees wobbled, but you managed to stay upright.

Then you said it: “I don't want to stay.”

Remus rose beside you.” I didn't want to lose myself.”

James clutched the map. “I want to leave.”

Sirius looked around one more time. The bed, the mirror, the reflections, the shadows of yourselves. He leaned down and kissed your temple. “I want you safe.”

The room groaned. The walls shuddered. The bed unravelled, literally, seams tearing into threads, velvet turning to smoke. The mirror cracked once, twice, then shattered, sending glimmering shards into the darkness.

The door appeared. Plain wood. Just like before. Remus reached for it. It didn’t open.

The magic fought back. The air turned hot again, pressing in. The walls began to pulse, like a heartbeat speeding up. Like rage. The shadows screamed in silence.

The reflections didn’t disappear. They began pounding on the glass walls, dozens of versions of you, of the boys, crying, moaning, clawing to stay.

But you stepped forward. You took their hands—James to your left, Remus to your right, Sirius at your back.

“We don't want you,” you whispered to the room. “We want us.”

Remus took a deep breath and reached again. The door opened.

A single breath of cold air rushed in, real, sharp and clean. Like the castle again. Like freedom. No one spoke. You all ran.

You stumbled down the corridor, James holding you upright, Sirius behind you, wand out, even though he couldn’t explain why Remus ahead, opening every hallway, guiding you back toward the Silver Stair. 

And then, you crossed the threshold, back into Hogwarts proper. It was like waking from a fever dream, clothes reappearing on all of your bodies, like you’d not been naked for the many hours stuck in that room. 

The corridor was dusty, cold and empty. The door was gone. No mirror, no magic. You all stood there maintaining. Then James dropped the map. Sirius sat down hard on the floor. Remus fell to his knees.

And you… You began to cry. Not sobs. Just hot, quiet tears. Because you were safe, but part of you still felt that hum. That echo. Like the room hadn’t let go entirely. And maybe it never would.

The hospital wing was quiet. Not silent, the soft clink of potion bottles, the rustle of parchment as Madam Pompfrey shuffled papers, but calm enough that the breath of your boys filled the space like music.

You lie beneath crisp white sheets, your body still tender, wrapped in soft linens and healing salves. Bruises bloomed beneath your skin, covering your thighs. Your hips ached. Your cunt swollen, sore and overused, still pulsed with the ghost of everything the room had taken from you.

You could barely walk when they’d carried you in.

James had cradled you, whispering soft things against your temple. Sirius had paced behind, snapping at Madam Pomfrey with uncharacteristic tension, until she made him sit. Remus hadn’t spoken, not at first. He’d just held your hand, silent and trembling.

Lies had been told to Madam Pomfrey, about falling down some stairs and needing help because there was no way on Earth any of you would admit to her that you’d all been fucking for hours and now you were ruined.

Now, hours later, you were clean, rested, but still hurting. And your boyfriends hadn’t left your side once.

James sat beside your bed, one hand tucked under your blanket to hold your fingers. He was stroking small shapes against your palm, rhythmic and grounding.

“You scared the hell out of us.”

“I scared myself,” you whispered back.

Sirius was lying at the foot of your bed, his head resting lightly near your knees, one arm curled possessively across your legs. He hadn’t let go of you either.

“You’re not allowed to die in haunted sex rooms anymore,” he muttered. “It’s a new rule.”

You gave a weak laugh. Even that hurt. But it was good. It was light. Remus sat nearest your head, a little hunched, as if he were afraid to touch too much, to cause more pain. His hand ran lightly through your hair, over and over.

“I should have stopped it,” he said defeatedly.

“You did,” you replied. “You all did. We came back.”

Remus finally looked down. There were shadows beneath his eyes, guilt still clinging like a fog. But you reached up. Slower now, sore and trembling, and cupped his jaw.

“I wanted you to touch me, Remus. And I still want you.”

His expression cracked, the relief bleeding through. James leaned down and kissed your cheek. “You’re going to be sore for days.”

“She can’t walk,” Sirius added. “Not even a bit. I had to help hold her while she pissed.”

“Sirius,” you groaned, face heating.

He grinned. “Just saying. You’re fucked. Like, literally. Ruined. And it’s kind of hot, ignoring all the nearly dying part.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “She needs rest.”

“I need you,” you whispered.”

That quieted all of them. You shifted slowly, painfully, and James helped you lean forward enough to rest your head on Remus’s shoulder. His arms came around you like they always did, strong and secure.

Sirius pressed a kiss to your knee, fingers trailing gentle patterns over the bruises. James curled against your other side, his lips brushing your collarbone.

They held you. You all stayed there for what felt like hours—whispering, laughing gently, apologising and kissing each other’s hands, shoulders, and cheeks.

James stroked over your ribs, “We’re still us”

Remus pressed a kiss to your temple. “Always.”

Sirius rested his forehead against your leg. “And when you’re better, when you’re ready, we’ll take care of you properly, safely.”

You smiled, eyes falling shut.

“I know. I love you.”

Outside the window, the sun began to rise. And inside the hospital wing, wrapped in love and softness, you healed.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which this is the end

She drives you home with one hand on the wheel and the other never letting go of yours.

You’re quiet in the car—not because there’s nothing to say, but because everything has already been said.

You’re engaged.

And somehow the world hasn’t stopped turning.

The first call is to your closest friend.

You barely say hello before you hear, “Did she do it?!”

You laugh through tears. “She did.”

Screams. Actual screams. You hold the phone away from your ear as Paige grins behind the wheel.

The second call is Paige’s.

She FaceTimes Nika, KK and Azzi from the couch while you’re curled into her side, your head on her shoulder, ring catching the afternoon light.

Azzi starts sobbing immediately.

Nika just nods like she knew.

“You guys are gross,” she says.

But her smile doesn’t fade for hours.

The texts come in waves.

Your people.

Her teammates.

The group chat explodes.

KK sends confetti emojis. Geno sends a picture of a bottle of wine with the caption finally. Your aunt texts, I’m crying at work. Your old chef mentor just replies, She better deserve you.

She does.

God, she does.

You keep the engagement offline.

Not because it’s a secret.

Because it’s sacred.

It’s just for now.

Just for you.

The world can wait.

You start planning that same night.

Not for a big ceremony.

Not for a hundred guests or a designer gown.

You want intimacy.

You want to hear her vows without a microphone.

You want to feel her hand in yours without a spotlight.

You want a wedding that feels like an exhale.

Paige offers to plan the whole thing.

You say no.

“I want to plan it with you,” you tell her. “Because I want us to build it together. Even this.”

She nods.

And from then on, every spare moment is yours.

You tour a small vineyard just outside the city.

Paige squeezes your hand as you walk the rows of vines, golden light falling over everything.

“This,” you say.

She doesn’t even ask why.

Because she feels it too.

She picks a suit.

Cream-colored. Soft lapels. No tie.

You run your hands along her collar the moment she tries it on.

“Damn,” you whisper. “I’m in trouble.”

She smirks. “You’re the one marrying me.”

You grin. “That’s exactly why I’m in trouble.”

Your dress is simple.

Light fabric. No corset. No lace.

Just something that breathes with you.

That lets you dance.

That lets you feel like yourself.

You cry when you put it on.

Not because it’s perfect.

But because it’s right.

One night, two weeks before the wedding, you sit on the floor together writing your vows.

You don't share them.

But she looks at you, pen in hand, and says, “You know... every time I think I couldn’t love you more, you prove me wrong.”

You reach over, brush your fingers through her hair.

“Then I’m going to keep trying. Every day we get.”

She kisses your wrist, right where the pulse beats strong.

And you both write the rest of your hearts onto paper.

Together.

The vineyard sleeps under a silver sky.

You’re staying in a tiny guesthouse tucked between the vines. The walls smell like lavender and old books. The windows creak softly in the wind.

The wedding is tomorrow.

And Paige is sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing one of your hoodies and a look you’ve never seen before.

A mix of nerves and awe.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing a hand down her leg as you pass by.

She doesn’t answer immediately.

Just watches you set down two mugs of tea on the nightstand. Honey chamomile. The same kind you made her the first time she stayed the night, long before either of you called this love.

You sit beside her.

She leans in.

“I keep thinking,” she says softly, “what if I forget to say the right thing?”

You smile. “You won’t.”

“But what if I cry in the middle? Or trip? Or say your middle name wrong?”

“You definitely will.”

She laughs. “You're not helping.”

You take her hand.

“Hey.”

She looks at you.

“You could stand there and read me the ingredients on a cereal box and I’d still marry you.”

She exhales. Shaky. Grateful.

You lean in, rest your forehead against hers.

“Tomorrow isn’t about being perfect,” you whisper. “It’s about being real. And I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am about you.”

She wraps her arms around you then.

And holds you like she’s saying thank you without words.

Later, you both lie on the floor.

Backs pressed against the rug. Lights off. Only the glow of the moon washing through the windows.

“Do you remember the night I asked you if you wanted company?” she asks.

You smile in the dark. “Your famous Thai food and chaos text.”

“I was scared,” she says. “You didn’t know that. But I was terrified I was too late. That someone else had already seen you the way I had.”

You turn your head toward her. “You weren’t late.”

“I was just in time.”

You nod. “You were exactly in time.”

Silence again.

But full.

Brimming.

You reach for her hand.

She laces your fingers together without a word.

At some point, she whispers, “Can I tell you something I’ve never said out loud?”

You nod, even though she can’t see you.

“Sometimes I still wake up thinking this is temporary. That you’ll be gone. That I imagined you.”

Your chest tightens.

“Then I reach out,” she continues, “and there you are. Real. Warm. Breathing. And every time, I promise myself I won’t take another second for granted.”

You squeeze her hand.

“You don’t,” you whisper.

“I try not to.”

“You don’t have to try,” you say. “You already love me like time is made of glass.”

You feel her breath catch.

And then she turns toward you.

Pulls you into her chest.

And for a long time, neither of you speak.

You just hold each other.

Letting the night be quiet.

Letting it hold you both before the morning opens everything.

You wake before the sun.

The light hasn’t touched the sky yet, but you’re wide awake, heart pounding like it’s running toward something. Your room is quiet. Paige isn’t here—by choice. You decided the night before to sleep separately, not out of superstition but to feel the moment when you see her again. Fresh. New. Yours.

You roll over and stare at the ceiling.

Today, you marry her.

Today, you promise everything—with no timeline, no guarantees, just love.

You exhale slowly.

And begin.

By 8:00 a.m., your people arrive.

Your best friend brings coffee. Another friend brings a small speaker and plays your “soft mornings” playlist while doing your hair. Your cousin quietly unpacks your dress and steams it, hands trembling just a little because she can’t stop crying every time she looks at you.

You sit by the window while someone curls strands of your hair around their fingers.

No one talks about the illness today.

No one talks about time.

They just talk about love.

About how they knew it would be her.

About how you started glowing the moment she walked into your life.

You laugh.

You cry.

You sip too-hot coffee from a chipped mug and say, “I feel like I’m floating.”

Your best friend smiles. “Then we’ll hold you down until she lifts you higher.”

Across the vineyard, Paige is getting ready too.

Azzi is tying her tie—yes, she changed her mind and went with a soft beige tie after all.

Nika is ironing the hem of her suit jacket.

KK keeps pacing.

“She’s going to pass out,” she mumbles.

“She’s going to cry,” Azzi mutters back.

“I’m already crying,” Paige says, holding her phone in one hand, reading a note she saved weeks ago.

Things I’ll say if I can’t get through my vows without sobbing.

1. I love you more than your banana bread. 2. You are the only one who makes me want forever—even if forever is shorter than it should be. 3. You are the bravest thing that ever happened to me. 4. Yes. Always, yes.

She snaps it shut and stands.

Hands shaking.

Voice steady.

“Let’s do this,” she whispers.

Back in your room, you stand in front of the mirror.

Your dress hangs soft and light around your body.

Your heart feels like it’s beating against your ribs, like it’s trying to get to her before your feet do.

Your friend steps forward and gently clips your necklace.

The same one Paige gave you the night she said “I love you” for the first time.

You look at yourself.

Eyes wide. Lips trembling. Chest full of everything.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

Your friend smiles through her tears.

“That’s how you know it’s real.”

You nod.

And then the knock comes.

Soft. Intentional.

The coordinator opens the door.

“They’re ready for you.”

You step outside.

The wind is gentle.

The light is gold.

Your hands are cold, but your heart is burning.

And somewhere, just beyond the vineyard rows—

She’s waiting.

You step out from behind the vineyard trellis, and for a second—just a second—everything stops.

The sky has turned that exact shade of honey it only holds right before sunset. The rows of grapevines stretch out like open arms, and the soft hum of strings plays from somewhere hidden behind the altar.

But none of that matters.

Because you see her.

And she sees you.

Paige stands at the end of the aisle, under the arch you both chose, her suit kissed by golden light, hands clasped tight in front of her, like she’s praying and shaking and flying all at once.

When her eyes land on you, they don’t blink.

Her breath catches.

You see her whisper something to herself.

There she is.

You take one step forward.

Your knees are trembling.

Your heartbeat is too loud in your ears, and for a terrifying moment, you don’t know if you’ll make it the whole way without falling apart.

But then she smiles.

Soft. Disbelieving. Like she’s never seen anything so holy.

And you forget fear.

You walk.

Not fast. Not slow.

You walk like time has bent itself around this moment.

Like nothing before and nothing after could possibly compare.

The breeze picks up as you pass the first row of chairs—your friends, your people, all of them rising to their feet. Some are already crying. Some are smiling through tears. One of your friends whispers, “Oh my God,” like she’s seeing something divine.

But you don’t look at any of them.

You only look at her.

Paige’s eyes never leave yours.

You see it all in them.

The memory of your first conversation over curry.

The quiet nights.

The broken plate.

The diagnosis.

The fear.

The yes.

The yes.

She swallows hard as you near.

One hand lifts—like she’s reaching without thinking.

You reach back.

The moment your fingers touch, the crowd disappears.

There’s only her.

Only you.

Only this.

“You came,” she whispers.

You laugh through your tears.

“I always was.”

She takes your hand fully now, steps forward, gently presses her forehead to yours.

“Hi,” she murmurs.

“Hi,” you breathe back.

And together, with fingers laced and tears already falling, you turn to face the one person standing at the arch—your officiant, your friend—who says, voice steady, “Are we ready?”

You and Paige look at each other.

Smiling.

Breaking.

Becoming.

And you both say, together,

“We are.”

The wind quiets.

The crowd stills.

Even the sun seems to pause, lingering in the golden sky like it knows this moment matters.

You and Paige stand beneath the arch—hands still joined, eyes full of what words could never contain.

The officiant speaks softly.

“We are gathered here not just to witness a marriage, but to honor a choice. A choice to love boldly, presently, completely—regardless of how many days are ahead. This is not about forever in time, but forever in devotion. In choosing. In staying.”

You squeeze Paige’s hand.

She squeezes back.

Then the officiant nods toward her.

“Paige,” they say. “Your vows.”

She turns to you.

And for a second, she doesn’t speak.

She just stares—eyes glistening, jaw trembling.

And then, in a voice that breaks halfway through the first word.

“I never expected it to be you.”

She smiles through the tears.

“Not because I didn’t believe in love. But because I didn’t believe love could look like this. So quiet. So steady. So brave.”

You bite your lip.

“I thought I knew what strength was,” she continues. “I thought it was scoring in the fourth quarter, pushing through pain, carrying the weight of pressure. But then I met you.”

She steps a little closer.

“And strength became something else entirely. It became waking up with a diagnosis and still smiling at me. It became letting me see you on the hard days. It became writing letters you thought I’d never read. Loving me even when you were scared. Letting me love you even when I was.”

Her voice cracks.

She breathes.

And keeps going.

“I don’t know how much time we have. But I do know this—every second with you has already been a lifetime I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

She reaches for your cheek, brushes away a tear.

“I vow to make joy louder than fear. I vow to make coffee, even if I burn it. I vow to remind you every day that you are not your illness, and you never will be.”

You’re sobbing now.

So is she.

“I vow to stay. As long as I’m allowed. And then longer still—in photos, in stories, in every recipe you taught me, and every breath that carries your name.”

She lets out a shaking breath.

“I love you. And I always will. Still.”

There is no applause.

Just silence.

And then the officiant turns to you.

You nod.

And begin.

“You were supposed to be a customer.”

The crowd chuckles softly.

Paige smiles, crying.

“You sat at my counter and asked for comfort food. I didn’t know then that you’d become it. That you’d sit across from me for so many days that you’d start to feel like home.”

You pause. Blink away the tears.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with someone like you—so focused, so public, so big. But then you laughed at my burnt cookies, cried when you read poetry badly, and showed up with Thai food and hope on the night I couldn’t move.”

Your voice shakes.

“I didn’t know how to let someone stay. But you made it feel safe.”

She’s sobbing.

You step closer, hands shaking in hers.

“I don’t have forever to give you. I wish I did. But what I do have is this. I vow to live every moment with you like it’s the only one that matters. I vow to kiss you like time is folding around us. I vow to let you carry the weight with me—even when I pretend I’m fine. I vow to say ‘I love you’ every morning, even if one day I can’t say much else. And when I can’t say anything anymore…”

You take a trembling breath.

“…I vow that my love will still be here. In the songs you hum. In the recipes we wrote. In the way you breathe in the sunlight and remember that we chose each other.”

A pause.

“I choose you. Still. Always. Yes.”

The officiant steps back, eyes full.

And simply says…

“With these vows, you are already bound. But if your hearts are ready—go ahead and seal it with a kiss.”

You don’t wait.

Neither does she.

You crash into each other with the softest, fiercest kiss—tears on your cheeks, laughter in your mouths, promises on your lips.

Your people cheer.

The sun sinks behind you.

And just like that—

You are wives.

The crowd fades.

The music swells.

But all you feel is her hand in yours.

You and Paige walk back up the aisle to cheers and flower petals and laughter—but it all blurs. She squeezes your hand so tightly, you think maybe it’s the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

When you reach the edge of the vineyard, just past the last row of chairs, she tugs you aside.

Around the corner.

Away from everyone.

Just for a minute.

And then she wraps her arms around your waist, lifts you off the ground, and spins.

You laugh into her neck, still crying, still stunned.

“We did it,” you whisper.

“We did,” she murmurs back. “And you—you were…”

You pull back slightly.

“What?” you ask, smiling.

She cups your face.

“You were the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen.”

You laugh, lips trembling.

“So were you.”

The sun sinks low.

Dinner is soft and loud all at once—clinking glasses, candlelight, warm food, warm eyes.

Toasts are made.

Nika starts hers by saying, “You both are a disaster. But you’re our disaster.”

Your friend reads a line from your favorite poem.

Azzi just raises her glass and says, “To the both of you.”

You look at Paige.

She’s already looking at you.

You reach for her hand under the table.

Later, long after the cake is cut, someone plays your song—the one she danced to in your kitchen the first time she tried to cook for you. The one that makes you cry in the car when it rains.

She stands, holds out her hand.

“May I?”

You nod.

She leads you into the grass, just past the lights, where the shadows are soft and the stars are just beginning to breathe.

You dance barefoot.

Slowly.

No one else joins.

It’s yours.

Only yours.

She rests her forehead to yours.

“I think the universe made you out of everything I needed,” she whispers.

You close your eyes.

“I think the universe gave me you right on time.”

You both cry, swaying under the sky.

Not from sadness.

From fullness.

From wonder.

That night, she carries you over the threshold of the guesthouse, even though you laugh and say she’ll hurt her back.

She says, “I’ll carry you forever if I have to.”

You believe her.

You change into soft clothes—nothing fancy, just you and her, bare feet and quiet sighs.

You brush your teeth beside her and keep catching her looking at you in the mirror like she still can’t believe you said yes.

She wraps her arms around you from behind and whispers, “I love my wife.”

You breathe out a laugh.

You whisper it back.

And when you lie down beside her, pressed together beneath the sheets, legs tangled and fingers tracing rings you haven’t taken off since the ceremony—

You whisper one more thing into the stillness.

“Thank you.”

She pulls you closer.

“For what?” she asks.

“For choosing me,” you whisper. “Even when time doesn’t.”

She kisses your knuckles.

“No matter how much time we get,” she says, “this night will live forever in me.”

And then she kisses you like the vow still lives on her tongue.

And you fall asleep in her arms.

Married.

Still.

It’s been months.

The world hasn’t stopped.

It’s just… slower now.

You and Paige live in rhythms now. Not plans.

You take mornings as they come—some with sunshine, some with numb hands and aching joints, some with tears before coffee.

She never flinches.

She just holds you like the world is still good.

Because with her—it is.

Your body betrays you more often now.

Some days you can’t button your own shirt.

Some days your legs tremble too long after standing.

But Paige learns with you.

She learns how to tie your laces.

She learns how to hold your arm without making it feel like pity.

She learns how to look at you like you’re still you.

And she says, almost daily, “You’re more you now than ever.”

You cook less now.

She tries more.

Sometimes it’s beautiful. Sometimes it’s chaos.

Once, she confused salt and sugar and served you the saltiest pancakes known to mankind.

You ate every bite.

She cried when you told her they were “aggressively unique.”

Then you both laughed until you forgot what pain even felt like.

You still take pictures.

Every morning, just like she asked.

Hair a mess, eyes tired, sun sometimes not even up yet.

She says every photo looks like a love letter.

You say she’s biased.

But maybe she’s right.

Some days, you write.

When your fingers let you.

You keep a journal on the windowsill.

One line a day. No pressure.

She danced with me in the kitchen again.

Today the pain wasn’t louder than her laugh.

She still looks at me like I hung the stars.

You never talked about the countdown again.

Not in numbers.

You just talk about today.

And sometimes tomorrow.

But mostly just now.

It’s been a year.

The doctor calls it progression.

You call it redefining.

You walk slower. Rest more. Your speech has softened, slurred on long days.

But you’re still here.

You’re still.

Paige learns new ways to care for you without making it feel like sacrifice.

She reads to you when your voice gives out.

She paints your nails on days when your hands ache.

She kisses your scars like they’re sacred.

Like they’re proof you’re still fighting.

You don’t go out as much.

But friends come over.

They bring food and flowers and sit on the floor like they always have.

They cry less now.

You all laugh more.

Once, someone said, “You’re teaching us how to live.”

You said, “I’m just learning how to stay.”

And every night, before bed, Paige tucks you in.

Sometimes with a kiss.

Sometimes with silence.

Sometimes with tears.

But always with love.

You rest your head on her chest and whisper, “Another day.”

She holds you tighter.

“Another day,” she repeats. “Still.”

You haven’t been to a game in months.

Not since the symptoms worsened.

Not since travel started taking more from you than it gave.

But when Paige comes home with that look in her eyes—wide, teary, stubborn—you know she’s already decided.

“We’re going to the arena,” she says softly, kneeling beside your chair. “Just one more time.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she shakes her head.

“I want to give you this.”

You press your forehead to hers.

She’s trembling.

So are you.

But you nod.

Because this love has always been about the one more.

The team pulls every string.

The Wings staff reserves a private suite just for you. No cameras. No crowd. Just glass windows and soft lighting and space for Paige to come to you when it’s over.

Your friends help you dress.

A soft jersey over your shoulders. The one with her number on it. The one she signed months ago, when neither of you could say why.

You hold it together until the drive to the arena.

Then Paige reaches across the console, threads your fingers together, and says,

“This one’s for you.”

The crowd is loud.

The lights are bright.

But none of it touches you.

All you see is her.

Number 5. Your wife. Your heart.

She walks out for warmups and glances up at the suite. You’re already there, hands curled in your lap, eyes on her.

When she sees you, she smiles.

Big. Unapologetic. Like you are the sun breaking through the roof.

She taps her chest.

Then points at you.

You mouth, I love you.

She mouths, Forever.

The game starts.

And Paige plays like the clock doesn’t matter.

She weaves through defenders like they’re mist.

She shoots like the basket owes her something.

She flies.

The arena chants her name.

But every time she scores, she looks up.

Not at the scoreboard.

At you.

Fourth quarter. Tie game. Final seconds.

Ball in her hands.

She could pass.

She doesn’t.

She takes the shot.

Swish.

Buzzer.

The crowd erupts.

You don’t hear it.

Because your ears are full of your heartbeat.

Of her name.

Of the weight of this moment.

She did it.

For you.

After the court clears, she sprints up the tunnel.

Still in her jersey.

Still catching her breath.

Your door opens.

She falls to her knees beside your chair.

And you see it—right there in her eyes.

She knows.

So do you.

This was your last game.

Your last adventure.

You smile anyway.

Because what a damn goodbye.

She buries her face in your lap, crying hard now, breath hitching.

You run your hand through her hair, slow, unsteady.

“You were amazing,” you whisper.

She lifts her head.

“You were here,” she says. “That’s what made it everything.”

You pull her close.

“You gave me a life inside a year.”

She nods, broken and shining.

“You gave me every lifetime,” she whispers.

And in that moment, the ending feels less like a goodbye.

And more like a thank you.

—

The house is warm.

Afternoon sun spills across the living room floor in long golden lines. Somewhere outside, wind chimes tinkle softly in the breeze. Inside, crayons are scattered across the kitchen table, a pink plastic tiara lies abandoned on the floor, and a little girl—six years old, with tangled curls and wide eyes—climbs into her mother’s lap, thoughtful.

“Mama,” she says. “Can I ask something?”

Paige Bueckers looks down at her daughter, smiles. “Always.”

“Why is my name Y/N?”

Paige stills.

Just for a second.

A blink. A breath. A flicker of time folding in.

But it’s enough.

Emily—her wife—watches from the hallway, her smile softening, her heart already bracing.

Paige swallows.

Her hands, rough from coaching and gardening and life, wrap gently around their daughter’s smaller ones.

She could lie.

She could say the name just sounded beautiful.

She could say it came to her in a dream.

But instead, she says the truth.

“There was a girl I loved,” Paige begins, her voice steady. “Before you were born. Before even Mommy.”

Little Y/N tilts her head. “Like a girlfriend?”

Paige smiles. “Yes. A long time ago. She was my first great love.”

“What was she like?”

Paige’s eyes glaze, just slightly—like she’s not looking at the room anymore.

“She was... brave. The kind of brave that doesn’t need to shout about it. She made people feel safe just by being near. She cooked like it was magic. She laughed with her whole body. And she had this way of looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.”

Y/N blinks, leaning in. “What happened?”

Paige hesitates. Then continues, voice gentler now.

“She got sick. Really sick. And we didn’t have much time.”

Y/N frowns. “Did she die?”

“Yes, baby,” Paige says, brushing hair back from her daughter’s forehead. “She did. But before she did, she gave me everything. A year that felt like a lifetime. A love that I still feel, even now.”

“Was she sad?”

“Sometimes. But mostly she was kind. And funny. And so, so full of love. She made every day count.”

Y/N stares at her hands for a moment.

“So... I’m named after her?”

Paige nods.

“Because I wanted to remember. Because she deserved to be remembered. And because when you were born, I looked at you and thought—of course. There you are.”

Y/N’s lip wobbles. “I wish I could meet her.”

Paige swallows a lump in her throat.

“I think... in a way, you already have.”

Y/N wraps her arms around Paige’s waist and holds her tight.

Then, a moment later—because she’s six, and that’s what six-year-olds do—she wriggles out of the hug and runs off to play with a cape around her shoulders and mismatched socks on her feet.

Paige watches her go.

And lets the silence return.

Emily steps into the room.

She doesn’t speak.

She just walks up behind Paige and places her hands gently on her shoulders.

Paige leans back into her without looking.

“I didn’t think it would hit me like that,” she murmurs. “It’s been so long.”

Emily presses a kiss into her hair.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

Paige finally turns her head.

Her eyes are glassy. Distant. But not broken.

“She was everything,” she says.

“I know.”

“She’s still in here,” Paige says, pressing a palm to her heart. “Even now.”

Emily nods, kneeling beside her.

“I don’t want to forget her,” Paige whispers.

Emily cups her cheek.

“You never could.”

They stay like that for a while—quiet, held.

And outside, their daughter runs in circles, laughing loud enough to echo.

A name carried forward.

A love still breathing in the spaces between.

Still.

Always.

It had been years.

Paige had stopped counting a long time ago—not because she forgot, but because time began to feel less like something that passed, and more like something she carried.

She kept your memory in quiet places. In the music she played while cooking Sunday breakfast. In the old Polaroid stuck to the back of her journal. In the small ceramic spoon rest you made that still sat by the stove. She didn’t bring you up every day, not out of denial, but reverence.

She had a family now. A beautiful one. Emily was sunlight—kind in the mornings, steady at night. And their daughter, Y/N, was this wide-eyed, wild thing who asked hard questions and loved the moon.

They had a good life.

But grief doesn’t disappear.

It settles.

It takes up residence in the softest corners of joy.

And that’s where it lived now, years later, when Paige opened a box labeled “Kitchen (Keep)” and found the old recipe binder.

She hadn’t touched it in years. Not because she forgot it existed, but because she always knew exactly where it was. She just wasn’t ready. Until now.

It still smelled faintly like rosemary and something sweeter.

She opened it slowly, running her fingers over the familiar cover, smudged with butter, penciled-in substitutions, faded ink.

And then, tucked between the page for your lemon ginger soup and the notes for your banana bread, she saw the envelope.

Her name.

In your handwriting.

And underneath it, smaller, almost as if you’d written it at the last second…

If it’s been a while—read this.

She sat down on the floor, legs folding under her like she was twenty again. Her fingers trembled, but not from fear.

She opened it.

And you began.

Hi, my love.

If you’re reading this, it means I’m not beside you anymore.

And God, I wish I was.

I wish I could reach over and squeeze your hand the way I always did when I couldn’t find the words. I wish I could make you coffee with way too much cinnamon like I did that one time you teased me about seasonal flavors. I wish I could look you in the eyes and tell you, again and again, how proud I am of you. How grateful. How lucky.

But I can’t.

So I’m writing it down, hoping these words hold weight long after I’m gone.

I never imagined a love like the one we built. Not because I didn’t believe in love—but because I didn’t think it could live this quietly. This fiercely. This gently.

You taught me how to be held without shame. How to laugh even when my body hurt. How to sit in silence without needing to fill it. You showed me what it meant to live—not just exist, but live with both hands open.

You were my favorite place to land.

I know the days after me were hard.

I know the air must have felt heavier without my laugh in the kitchen or my voice beside yours in the early morning light. I know that for a while, everything probably tasted a little like salt—grief in the back of your throat, even when you tried to swallow joy.

But I also know you.

And I know you stayed soft. Stayed bright. Stayed Paige. Even when it hurt.

Thank you for that.

If you ever doubted whether you could love again—know this…

I want you to.

I want you to find warmth again. A lap to rest your head. A person to carry your tired. A laugh that stitched your heart back together.

I wanted you to have someone who loved you the way I did—openly, endlessly, and without apology.

To the one who gets to love you, if you’re reading over her shoulder—I hope you know how grateful I am.

Thank you for holding her through the storms I didn’t live to see.

Thank you for loving my girl.

And to the child you got to have…

I never got to meet you. But you carry a piece of me. And I hope when you run through the house yelling about butterflies or astronauts or peanut butter toast, your mama sees the way your smile curls and knows I’m not gone. Not really.

Paige, my heart, I need you to remember something.

You didn’t fail me.

Not once. Not ever.

You loved me through the hardest year of our lives.

You held me when my hands couldn’t hold you back.

You stayed, even as the days grew shorter.

You gave me a thousand lifetimes in one.

And when I closed my eyes for the last time, it was your voice I carried with me.

You are my safe place.

My home.

Still.

So if you’re crying now, that’s okay.

But after you cry—go make something. Paint. Sing. Cook something ridiculous with too much garlic. Take your kid to the lake and tell them the story about the time you burnt the toast and I pretended it was intentional. Let them laugh. Let them know.

Let them know I loved you with everything I had.

Let them know I left this world full.

And when you whisper into the night, when the stars are quiet and the house is sleeping, and you say my name like a secret—

I’ll be there.

I’ll always be there.

Still.

Always.

Yours, 

Y/N.

Paige didn’t move for a long time after finishing.

Her chest ached. Not like it used to. Not hollow. Not breaking.

Just full.

Full of you.

Full of the life you lived together.

Full of the love that never ended—only changed shape.

She looked up.

Outside, Emily was laughing in the garden. Little Y/N danced through the grass, barefoot and fearless.

Paige stood slowly, folded the letter back into its envelope, and held it against her chest.

“I miss you,” she whispered into the quiet room.

Then she walked outside.

To the life she built because you taught her how.

Still.

Always.

[userlando]

lending a hand — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [5.5k] summary: exams are coming up and studying for it turns out to be more tedious than usual. luckily, lando is around & more than eager to lend a helping hand. warnings: 18+ fingering, dirty talk, protected sex (piv), brief oral, doggy, missionary, dom!lando, derogatory name calling, choking, slapping (lando smacks a tit and ass lol), everything is absolutely consensual a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i know it's been agesss since i came on here and i'm still kind of on a hiatus because i just haven't been feeling tumblr lately. i wrote this piece a while back for another cc but they've since then showed themselves to be a bad person and i don't wanna be associated with that. so i rewrote and added some things because i really like this one. so hopefully you do too :') i love u and miss u all so much, i'll hopefully jump back on when i've got my mojo back!! read before interacting: I suck at biology and googled every single medical term and everything it’s got to do with it. i’m so sorry if i wrote something incorrectly, please don’t come for me. thank you x

The air was stifling hot and damp, your fingers were cramping up and the words on your textbooks were starting to blur into one big mess the longer you stared at them. There were so many books laid out in front of you, pictures of cartooned organs and human anatomy that on any other day, would be of massive help. But right now they just made your head hurt even more.

When your fingers cramped up for the fourth time, you let go of your pencil and watched it land softly on the sheets in front of you. You were in serious need of a massage, tension rippling in your body that would only perish once your final exams were over and done with. It wasn’t long until you took them, two weeks to be exact but the stress was weighing heavier on you than you’d like to admit.

The only thing pushing you forward was the fact that you’d be one step closer to graduating and the promised deep massage in Monaco’s finest spa.

Your boyfriend had been the true pillar in your life. Lando been so patient and tried to help in any way he could when you’d seek comfort in his arms and awkwardly stumbled words. Poor thing didn’t know how to make your stress go away when you were at your worst, but he certainly tried his best and that was all that mattered. Lando felt helpless at those times, but he found himself relaxing when he held you and could feel the tension in your shoulders lessen.

You’d been neglecting him for over a week now, but he was nothing if not understanding and he took advantage of that time to spend more in front of his computer with his friends or even the racing sim, while you holed up in your shared bedroom.

It had made you feel a little guilty at first, seeing as it was his season break and he’d intended to spend his free time with you but your schedules didn’t align enough. There were only so many hours you could spend procrastinating before the stress got to be too much.

You’d first opted to sit next to him while he played and streamed but you’d found him too big of a distraction so it hadn’t been long before you migrated to your bedroom. Hearing him from down the hall was comfort enough.

It was as if your thoughts had summoned him, the creak of the door pulling your attention to it and you blinked away the blur in your eyes to watch his upper body and head peak through the space. The curls on his head were wild, unrulier than usual and you’d have taken a step back to admire them if you had the strength to.

“You alright?” He asked tentatively, and you nodded with a wave of your hand; Gesturing for him to come in because suddenly you were in need of his comforting hug.

He’d gone quiet in his office a while ago and you figured he’d gone offline, not hearing a peep from him. Or maybe you’d had, and just didn’t notice.

“You need a break.” Lando murmured as he stepped inside, coming to stand by the bed.

You blinked up at him and realised the blur in your eyes were from unshed tears of exhaustion. It seemed as if Lando realised it at the same time you did, letting out a surprised soft laugh as he pouted his bottom lip in sympathy.

“Darling.” He reached out both of his hands to cradle your face, thumbs reaching out to swipe beneath your eyes. “This isn’t healthy.”

“I’m not crying, I swear.” You placed your hands over his, letting out a watery laugh at the worry in his eyes. “I’m just tired. These words aren’t making sense anymore.”

Lando made a sound in his throat, turning to plop down on the bed. You tried to keep the scowl from showing on your face when he moved around the meticulously arranged papers on the sheets, but he saw it and grimaced in something you guessed were apologetic.

“How about we go out and get something to eat?” Your boyfriend suggested, laying down on his side and propping his head up with the help of his hand.

“I’m not hungry.” That was a lie.

You’d been cooped up in your room for over - you glanced at the clock and winced - three hours, and the last time you’d ate was a bowl of yogurt and granola. It wasn’t healthy, and you always made a point of eating before your insides started twisting with hunger, but it was easy to get carried away while revising.

“Don’t pull that shit on me.” Lando’s eyes rolled, reaching a hand out to nudge you in the side to garner a reaction out of you. You jumped with a startled giggle, swatting at his hand. “Just an hour and then we’ll be back, I promise.”

You shook your head, no matter how tempting that offer was. You knew yourself well enough to know that you’d go out to eat, come back and then push studying aside to cuddle in bed with him. And seeing as the both of you hadn’t gone further than kissing for the past week, Lando would definitely not protest if you procrastinated in order to spend some quality time with him.

“Lan, I love you but I really cannot abandon this until I’m done.” You gestured to the mountain of stress in front of you.

Lando followed the gesture with his eyes, stretching a hand out to pluck a notebook with your scribble on it. You watched him scan it, a furrow making its way between his bushy eyebrows and it made you smile involuntarily. He looked absolutely adorable and so very confused.

“Medical terminology…” He read before trailing off with a sound of aversion. “So… What? You need to memorise these words?”

It would be a lie if you said that you hadn’t been a little distracted while he skimmed over the pages as if he understood what the words such as Popliteal and Supraclavicular meant. You were too busy looking at the arch of his nose and the tempting pout of his lips, admiring the slight redness covering the apples of his cheeks.

His eyes flicked up and you blinked back to reality, ignoring the teasing smile playing on his lips as you answered his previous question with a forlorn nod. You watched him light up slightly as an idea struck him.

“What?”

“What if I help you out?” He asked, sitting up slightly.

You almost laughed. Help? You’d be a delicious distraction.

“How would you help me?” You asked instead, smiling as he sat up fully and waved the notebook in his hand between you two. As if that would answer your question.

“May I?” He asked and you looked at his hand hovering over the textbooks.

It took you a second to realise what he was asking and you almost shook your head no, but Lando looked too excited and you weren’t about to rain on his parade so you nodded.

He didn’t waste any time with packing everything up and placing them in a surprisingly organised pile on the floor by the bed, keeping the notebook he’d been holding close by as he scooted up the bed and laid down with his head on the pillow. You gazed at him questioningly, feeling lost.

“Wow… You sure cleared my confusion up.” You said slowly after a beat of silence.

You watched your boyfriend roll his eyes, so sassy and so Lando it made your chest hurt with adoration.

“Alright smartass. Come here.” His hand circled your wrist and the tug almost sent you flying over him. You squealed in surprise, thankfully steadying yourself before you toppled over and looked down on Lando between the curtain of hair that had fallen over your face. “Sorry.”

You slapped his chest lightly and rearranged yourself so you were straddling his thighs gently as he’d probably intended to have you do from the start. The position made unexpected arousal flare up in your abdomen and it wasn’t disappearing any time soon with the way Lando was looking up at you from his position.

“Alright, can you please tell me what’s going on?” You asked nicely and placed your hands over his where they’d snuck up and found a home on your thighs.

He freed one hand and grabbed yours, fingers slotting nicely between yours and you resisted the sudden urge to grind down on him. Something about this man made you shamelessly feral.

“Okay so, you have to memorise all this gibberish and what better way than to practice on me?” He finished his sentence by tugging softly on your hand and you bent down when you understood his silent request, slotting your lips against his.

His lips felt soft and you couldn’t help but open up to his tongue, your body automatically melting into his as his free hand found its place on the small of your back to pull you in closer.

You allowed yourself a few seconds before sitting back up in his lap, feeling slightly disoriented.

“Is this your way of getting me into bed?” You narrowed your eyes jokingly in suspicion, earning a laugh from him.

“No, I genuinely want to help. But I wouldn’t mind you in bed with me, either.” He replied, pushing his hips up to readjust his position and jostling you in the process. “Go ahead, where do you wanna start?”

You pursed your lips in thought, deciding that starting at his face and working yourself down was the best way to do it. You were, after all, already sat on his legs and had made yourself quite comfortable. With your decision made, you placed one hand on the left side of Lando’s head and got close to him.

Lando sucked his lips into his mouth, big eyes watching you in silence but his facial expression said it all. It truly had been too long since you’d had sex, but maybe there was a way of incorporating intimacy into studying. Who birds, one stone and all that.

“So, this is the frontal.” You murmured, the other hand coming up to swipe a gentle finger across his forehead before moving down to his cheekbone. “The zygomatic bone.”

Lando blinked slowly, but he stayed silent as your fingers trailed down over the slope of his nose. A giggle left your lips as he scrunched his nose, the skin moving beneath the tips of your fingers.

“The nasal,” You muttered, trailing your fingers up to gently touch his eyelids as he closed his eyes. You couldn’t help but place soft kisses over each of them, watching him flutter them open to look at you. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and seductive. You hated it. “Oculus.”

Lando shifted beneath you, tongue coming out to wet his lips and you were immediately drawn to the sheen of them. You let out a small desperate breath, closing the small distance between the two of you for a kiss. Your boyfriend made a sound in his throat and you pulled back barely an inch to whisper.

“Oral cavity.” Before diving back in for a second kiss that he was more than happy to reciprocate.

It was easy to lose yourself in his touch and the warmth of his body against yours, your hand coming up to grab his thick hair in your grip while his circled around your body to pull you flush against him.

“Lando…” You let out a small whine when he pulled back to bite on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth in a way that had your toes curling. “Fuck me.”

Any other day and you’d probably flush at the way you sounded so whiny, but you didn’t have time to overthink it before your boyfriend gathered up what remained of his self restraint to pull back. You chased his lips and only got a nip back, making you pout down at him.

“Keep going.” He ordered and you scooted up so your nether regions were flush against each other. He hissed your name in warning, “Don’t be a brat, finish what you started.”

You huffed and opened your mouth to protest but caught yourself when you saw the expression on his face. Shit, he really wasn’t playing around.

“Fine.” You bit out, wiggling a little in place to feel the smooth hardness of Lando between your legs.

The man in question tutted and reached out to grip your throat in a hold, gentle but it was strong enough to catch you off guard and still yourself in his lap.

“What is this part called?” He asked, awfully casual for someone who was half hard with their hand wrapped around your throat.

He flexed his fingers lightly and you searched your muddled brain for the answer, fighting the urge to moan when he squeezed. It wasn’t fair, he knew what he was doing to you.

“The esophagus.” You whispered, not daring to look away from his intense gaze as he carefully unwrapped his fingers from said body part, two of his fingers tapping your chin before resting on your bottom lip.

“Open.” He commanded softly and you did, without question.

You held his eyes as he slid two fingers inside, tasting the saltiness of his skin as he stroked over your tongue. The urge to gag hit you when he slid too far down, eyes watering when he wiggled his fingers inside teasingly.

“What’s this called?” He asked, and you could see the teasing pull of the corners of his mouth when you glared down at him.

How am I supposed to respond with your fingers down my throat? Your eyes screamed, but Lando merely raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingers forward in retaliation.

You gagged, a sound of despair escaping your drooling mouth.

You tried to reply with “Pharynx” but the words came out as a jumbled mess and you drooled down his fingers. But it was apparently good enough for Lando because he pulled back slightly to let you breathe more properly, stroking the width of your tongue in a silent command. You sucked on his fingers, cleaning them off of any saliva before he retrieved them entirely.

“Good girl.” The rasp in his voice made your stomach swoop as he smiled at you, placing his hands on either side of your hips. “Go on.”

You stared at him, not entirely sure what to do but he gave you the answer when he tugged on your t-shirt; A silent urge to take it off. You didn’t waste any time, grabbing it by the hem and lifting it off your torso; Almost falling over in the process. Lando chuckled at your eagerness and your face burned, but you refused to let that affect you. The two of you looked at one another for a beat before he dropped his gaze to your heaving, exposed chest. Never had you been happier to have foregone a bra, especially when he stroked both hands up your sides. He felt your skin beneath his palms, a shiver escaping you.

“Please,” You whispered, grinding down on the hardness beneath you. Your eyes fluttered.

“Please what?” His voice sounded teasing, bright eyes trained on you.

Instead of answering him verbally, you grabbed his hands in yours and placed them over the swell of your breasts. Lando inhaled at the feel of them in his palms, letting you squeeze his hands in yours. A moan escaped your mouth as his thumbs swiped over your nipples until they pebbled, back arching into his hold.

“So needy for me.”

His rough voice had you opening your eyes and he must’ve seen something in them because he took pity on you. The yelp that left your lips was anything but attractive when he embraced you and flipped you both over. Lando laughed when you bounced on the mattress, and you couldn’t help but giggle as the tension broke.

“Please, Lando.” You pleaded after the both of you had calmed down from your little fit, hands coming up to feel the taut of his stomach over his t-shirt.

You sounded needy in your own ears but you didn’t really care. And judging by your boyfriends teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he loved hearing you like this.

“Please what, darling?” His eyebrows drew together in fake sympathy, his gaze dropping to your chest when you arched your back.

You opened your mouth to answer him but the words died on your lips the second Lando leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. You should’ve seen it coming, because he could never keep away from your tits for too long but the suction made you gasp all the same, hands coming up to grab at the back of his head.

“Just fuck me already.” You said.

Lando grabbed the both of your hands in his before pinning them to the side, suckling harsher on your teat before kissing his way over to the other side. You didn’t know what to focus on, the cool air on your wet nipple, his unforgiving mouth on the other one or the way his hands were digging into the skin of your wrists. The thought of him bruising you made you buck your hips up, craving it more than ever.

“You’re impatient tonight.” He drew back, blowing cool air on your saliva soaked skin and making you squirm. “I can’t decide whether I should punish you for being a needy little slut or fuck the brattiness out of you.”

You knew you shouldn’t talk back, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Anything would be better than this.” It came out as an indignant mutter but Lando’s eyes flared in challenge.

It was quick and you didn’t have time to react to his hand sailing down and slapping the meat of your breast. You yelled out in shock, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to sit up as an automatic response. Lando tutted, quickly grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down with a strength that had you gasping for breath.

“This is what happens when I don’t fuck you for a week,” He hissed, eyebrows drawn in anger but you could see the desire in his eyes as he bent down to your eye level. “One week without my cock and you start acting like a bitch.”

Holy fuck, the filth coming from his mouth made your nerves light up in anticipation. It had been too long, so fucking long since he talked and behaved like this. You hadn’t realised how much you missed it until now.

His hand let go of your throat and instead cupped your chin, his fingers squeezing your mouth together until your eyes fluttered shut in need with a moan. Lando grinned down at you, tightening his grip just to watch your eyes roll before pressing a filthy kiss to your mouth that you barely had time to reciprocate before he pulled back.

It felt like you were in a daze, feeling him pull your sweatpants off along with your panties. He made an offhand comment about the wetness that you didn’t register, choosing to grit your teeth and ball your fists to keep from touching yourself instead.

Lando undressed himself without getting off the bed, albeit a little clumsily but he recovered quick and grabbed your thighs to spread them apart. The look on his face made you flush hot all over, almost like you were a meal he couldn’t wait to devour.

“Look at that, so wet already.” He hummed in appreciation and coated one finger in your slick before sinking it inside of you, revelling in your gasps. “All this for me, baby?”

“Mmm,” You swallowed, throat drying up and eyes closing at the sensation. “Just for you, Lando.”

“That’s what I thought.” He said smugly.

He sank a second finger inside and scissored them until he deemed you stretched enough, his free hand stopping your thighs from closing when you started to feel him pull out. It had been too long since you’d been touched like this, and Lando was always so talented with his fingers. He could truly play you like a fiddle.

“Don’t.” He growled, the tone of his voice making you squirm and separate your legs obediently again. “Good girl.”

You watched him in silence as he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth to clean them off with a hum that you felt in your core. Sweat was beading on your forehead and you were sure that you looked a mess. Lando didn’t seem to mind it though, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body before settling on your face. His eyes softened at whatever he saw in your eyes and something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Kiss me, please?” You begged, suddenly needing him near you.

Lando didn’t hesitate as he bent over to press his mouth to yours, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle consider how crudely his cock was pressing against your mound, one hand sinking into your hair to tilt your head to his liking. He broke the kiss for a moment to reach to the side, opening up the drawer with a groan and rifling through the contents. You watched in mild amusement, taking in the pinch of his eyebrows and the concentration on his face. You took the opportunity to press kisses to his shoulder and up his throat, your tongue tasting the saltiness of his sweaty skin. Lando’s unstable position faltered and you sucked a small lovebite into the delicate skin of his neck for good measure.

“Fuck.” He swore with a breathless laugh, steadying himself and sitting upright.

You smiled up at him, planting your feet on the bed and bending your legs so Lando could get even closer to where you needed him the most. His bright eyes found yours, eyebrows rising. He bit into the tinfoil, tearing it open and fishing the condom out to slip it on.

The rubber wasn’t needed, not really. But Lando knew you well enough to know when you had enough energy after the deed to clean yourself up, and today wasn’t one of those days. He would often do it himself, ignoring your embarrassing protests as he wiped you down with a cloth and eventually giving up when he swatted your hands away.

Anticipation rose in you when he positioned himself but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, a devilish smile widening on his lips when he patted the side of your hip twice. You knew what that meant and you bit your lip in uncertainty. The dreaded position you loved and hated at the same time.

“Turn around and don’t make me ask twice.” Lando said after reading the look on your face and you made a noise that sounded a lot like dislike.

But you definitely didn’t want to stall it any longer, so you turned your body around and pressed your cheek against the mattress with your eyes closed. This position hit absolutely every nerve inside of you, but it also left you completely exposed and that’s mainly why you hated it.

Lando grabbed your hips and lifted you upwards so your knees were beneath you, exhaling as he slid his hands from your ass and down your back. The feel of his palm against the skin of your back made you arch despite your initial hesitation and something about that made the man behind you feel all the more needier.

“So fucking gorgeous,” You heard him whisper and you believed it. “Can’t wait to sink into this pretty little cunt.”

Unexpected heat shot down your back and you moaned, pressing back against Lando in hopes that he’d finally get the hint and fuck you. Your hands gripped the sheets on either side of your bed in anticipation at the thought.

“Fuck me, please.” It came out as a whispered plea.

“I will, don’t worry, love.”

And with that promise, he nudged himself inside. You arched in response, eyes shutting as he started pushing inside little by little. The stretch was incredible, making your toes curl and mouth open in a silent moan. Lando let out a sound of his own as he bottomed out, one hand grabbing your hips while the other settled over the small of your back to push down gently. You arched, and he seemed to like that because he immediately drew back before thrusting back in.

He found a rhythm you assumed he liked and you matched it by pushing back when he pushed in. A wave of heat overtakes you and your eyes roll in your sockets the harder he thrusts; Like a man on a mission, eager to bury himself inside you as far as he can go.

It hadn’t occured to you just how badly you’d been neglecting Lando lately, but it was evident in how his hands grabbed anywhere he could find purchase, your name leaving his mouth in a chant as he fucked you harder. You needed this as much as he did.

“Fuck, oh my God.” You tried to pull your hand back to touch yourself but you were jostled too harshly and you ended up being thrown off balance.

A high pitched whine left your mouth as Lando slipped out and just as you were about to turn your head to look at him, he’d grasped your hips and turned you around on your back. He reached for the pillow next to your head, stuffing it under your hips and kissing just beneath your navel in the process as a silent praise for raising your hips without him having to ask.

You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down your stomach, over your mound before latching his mouth onto your clit. The unexpected touch of his sinful mouth had you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Oh my God, Lando...” You moaned, attempting to tilt your head down so you could watch him but he was quick to flick his tongue against your clit and it only made you arch into his mouth.

Lando was holding the base of his cock, squeezing and willing himself not to blow too soon. He’d been waiting to get inside you long enough and he wasn’t about to end it before he’d had his fill of you. When he deemed it safe enough, he pulled away and positioned himself between your legs before sliding in. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip at your reaction, loving the flutter of your eyelids and the pretty way your mouth opened in a pathetic moan.

He couldn’t help but lower himself down onto you, mindful as to not suffocate you but just enough for you to feel the press of his chest against yours as he started fucking into your wet heat.

You took it like a champion, arms circling his upper body and legs falling open as he fucked you into the mattress with reckless abandon. The stress you’d been feeling the past week was slowly seeping out of you, and you welcomed the feeling of it as you brought Lando to your mouth, kissing him until you lost your breath.

“You’re so pretty,” Lando murmured against your lips breathlessly. “My pretty baby.”

He slid one hand between the two of you, long fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in a way that had you crying out against his mouth. Lando refused to blink, didn’t want to miss the look on your face as he brought you closer to euphoria.

“You know what this is, baby?” He asked, hand cupping your pussy and trying not to falter when he felt where the two of you were connected.

Fuck, you were soaking and Lando was really about to blow.

“This is mine.” He hissed, watching the way your eyes rolled before shutting. “Only I get to fuck it, you hear me?”

You opened your mouth to respond that yes, of course it fucking is - but the loud cry that left you instead surprised the both of you as your body tensed up, pussy clenching around his cock as you sobbed through your orgasm. Liquid heat trickled down your back and you momentarily blacked out at the sheer force of you tensing up in your climax.

“Oh fuck.” Lando hissed, dropping his head against the crook of your neck and fucking into your clenching pussy.

If your sounds and the look on your face wasn’t enough to bring him to his end, then the feel of your legs circling around him and locking him into place was enough to do his head in. You moaned weakly as he tensed up in your arms, shooting into the condom and grinding into your sensitive cunt, like he wanted to bury himself as deep as possible.

He probably didn’t realise that in his high, he’d dropped his entire weight on you but you absolutely didn’t mind it; Finding comfort in his heaving body and the feel of his damp hair as you buried your fingers into it.

“God, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He garbled against your skin as he pulled himself out of you, lifting his head weakly to take a look at you.

You couldn’t help but grin at his flushed face and blown wide pupils, feeling thrilled that this gorgeous man loved you. And you loved him, so much.

“I could really go for a sandwich from the deli down the street right now.” You whispered dreamily, closing your eyes shut as he brought a shaking hand up to swipe a few damp strands from your forehead.

Lando pulled a face.

“If you think we’re not gonna order in, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He shook his head at the thought of leaving the bed - leaving you naked in his bed - to buy sandwiches. No matter how absolutely amazing they were. You blinked up at him with big eyes, pouting your lip and Lando knew right then that he’d lost any willpower he’d had left.

“Oh, you’re good.” He narrowed his eyes, sneaking his hands down to tickle your sides.

You squealed, squirming underneath him and yelling at him to stop, your body too weak to fight back. Lando kept going for a few seconds before he let you push him to the side so you were half laying on top of him instead.

“You’re evil.” You glared at him, but he could see the twitch of your raw lips and the love in your eyes so he didn’t take it too hard.

Lando gripped your chin gently and brought you in a for a kiss before pulling back to look at you. You blinked back and he smiled.

“Alright I’ll go down to the shop in one condition.” He said, trying to sound serious despite the massive grin on his face. “You hop in the shower, and then I want all these books gone from this room by the time I get back. We’re taking the rest of the night off.”

You suppressed a smile at the “we”, nodding your head reluctantly instead because for once you weren’t overwhelmed with stress and you weren’t about to bring it all back when Lando had worked so hard to relieve you of it. Hopefully he’d relieve you of it a couple more times later tonight.

“It’s a deal.” You agreed verbally, bringing your pinky to hook into his own.

“Alright, let’s get to it.” He brought an arm around and slapped your ass.

You jumped with a gasp, glaring at your boyfriend who cackled and jumped out of bed before you could kick him in retaliation. He looked amused as he walked around the bed to find tissues and get rid of the condom, cleaning himself up the best he could. He found the clothes he’d thrown on the floor, pulling them on all the while watching you stretch on the bed like a cat. It was so tempting to crawl back into bed and have his way with you but he gritted his teeth and turned to locate his wallet and phone.

“Text me your order, I’ll see you in a bit.” He said and leaned down to press two kisses to your lips, making a noise in his throat when you wound your hands in his hair and pulled him closer for a few more kisses. “I love you.”

You grinned against his mouth, teeth knocking together but you were too happy to care as he nipped your lower lip and pulled himself up to stand straight.

“Love you too. Be safe.”

You watched him walk out, smiling to yourself at how incredibly lucky you were.

[rubyarerosies]

what would lowkeyartist!sukuna do and react if his wife and kids identity was revealed🤨

for dramatics, i feel like the way his family’s identity is revealed is most likely from an inside source. His hair stylist, probably new to his team wouldn’t do it intentionally, he’s probably taking a video and in the background is clear view of you and Sukuna entertaining your son. And so the video spreads and everyone starts to investigate.

Sukuna would most likely not hear about it until you come back from picking up your son from daycare with Toji.

“What happened? Why’re you crying?” you’re huffing, hair is frizzled than how it normally looks, and the gloss over your eyes concern him immensely. He takes your son into his arms, the little boy not knowing about the turmoil his mother is facing while he sleeps. You’re happy he was, because then he wouldn’t be so scared of the crowd that seemed to surround him half and hour ago.

“Your little fan base knows about them now,” Toji spoke up, walking through the door with your sons bag and car seat (you left your car at the daycare, calling Toji to come pick you up so that the fans don’t stalk your car all the way home. Toji most definitely took a different route to your house than usual)

Sukuna stares confused, his hold on his son faltering a little bit, Toji continues, “they were at his daycare, it was a big crowd, Ryomen,”

“Fuck,” he whispers, his arm coming around your shoulder so he could pull you into a soft embrace, he kisses apologies into your hairline, saying he’ll fix this, “go wash up, I’ll go see what I can do,”

The next day he goes live and everyone notices how disappointed, angry, and upset he looks. He’s not in his studio, but a room at his agency. It’s a rough, 15-25 minute video - he’s already planned out what he’s going to say by the help of Toji and his media team (Toji insisted he needed to be professional about this or else it wouldn’t be taken seriously or well - despite his lack of care for how offended the media would be, a voice in his mind reminded him of his family back home)

He thanks everyone for supporting him so far and for giving him the content life he has now, but he firmly admits that he doesn’t like mixing up the two together. “my private life is to not be shown carelessly online, my family is to stay offline,”

He over goes the incident that happened at the day care and affirms that he will be taking legal action against accounts, websites etc that post those videos or photos - “my wife and son are normal people too, I expect everyone to treat them as such or else me and my team will take legal action,”

“I hope you all come understand why I’ve come off offensive right now, my family is very important to me and I’m not afraid to drop this career for them.”

[tthoroughfare]

some random modern!abby headcanons as i Cannot think about anything else. NSFW in the latter half spit kink asf i’m not sorry

she’s chronically offline. has social media but does not use it — her IG has one photo from 3 years ago and the only other social media she has is a facebook account she made when she was 14. her entire page is just shit her dad tags her in; photos of her he’s taken while they’re on vacation, cringey middle aged humor, the Facebook Parent works

90% of the time only uses her phone for what a phone is actually for. probably has a super old one because she doesn’t see the point in replacing it; it’s somehow in like perfect condition though

texts in perfect grammar. before you got used to it you literally thought she was mad at you all the time. hasn’t got it figured out what emojis make sense contextually because she doesn’t really use them and occasionally sends you baffling messages like:

“Got off early. Can’t wait to see you. 😬” (was rushing and thought it was a smile)

but sometimes it’s also very cute, like a grandma who just figured out how to text:

“Do you want to tag along with Manny and Nora to a concert on Saturday? The people they were supposed to go with can’t anymore. 🎶🕺🎸”

the type of gf who will get you doing the most random activities. she’s constantly trying new hobbies and always wants you to be a part of it. she’ll decide on a sunday night she wants to pick up rock climbing, have you both signed up and in the climbing gym monday

or she’ll decide on a whim she wants to take you to a restaurant someone recommended even though it’s an hour and a half drive away

med student abby is canon abby…

she really didn’t want to be a cliche and go into it just because it’s what her dad does, but she was always encouraged to excel academically and found herself naturally drifting in that direction

she makes it look easy, but it’s really not. she gets stressed about everything a lot (particularly wrestling with worries about letting her dad down, which you reiterate she couldn’t do if she tried), but doesn’t really show anyone apart from you. you always make her feel better, though, just as she does for you with your problems

grew up well-off, but isn’t a dick about it. very generous with her money, always buying you little treats and picking up the bill despite your protests. takes you on weekends away wherever possible, or a bigger vacation somewhere tropical during the summer

honestly not the best cook… she’s just used to making food for herself, which tends to be pretty plain. gym bro meals ugh. however, has one or two incredible recipes she can pull out the BAG. makes them for you when she knows you’ve had a long day

would 100% be that post of the guy who set his alarm purposefully earlier so that he could wake up and cuddle his partner before he had to actually get up. she’s normally up before you, regardless of the day or time. abby’s an early riser; she loves the morning. you always stir with a warm drink on the bedside table, and either the sound of her pottering around the apartment or a text saying something along the lines of:

“Heading to the gym. Gave you a kiss before I left but you were still clean out, LOL.”

has extremely random and rogue music taste. same with movies. you figure this out not long into knowing her, when you’re talking about favorite films and she deliberates before carefully stating that her all-time top three are flushed away, interstellar and an old foreign movie you couldn’t pronounce if you tried

speaking of — loves movies! you guys frequent the cinema, but also like to stay in and have movie nights at home. you’ll watch just about anything together, taking it in turns to choose. when you stay in, you make it a Whole Thing. all the bedding gets moved to the living room, you buy snacks, she sits and lets you meticulously paint a face mask on her

sometimes, you’ll attentively watch the whole thing. sometimes, if you get halfway through and it’s not the best, she’ll allow her fingers to trail down from their position atop your upper arm in a manner she knows you’ll pick up on. dipping under your shirt and rubbing loose, gentle circles at your hip for what feels like forever, before nudging at your jaw with her nose and planting a light kiss. you turn to meet her, eyes flitting between hers and her lips; closing the gap and smirking against her mouth, “you’re not subtle.”

blowing air out of her nose and shrugging, she brings her free hand up to the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss. it’s slow and deliberate, everything from the way she moves her lips against yours, to how she steadily shifts you on top of her. she likes to take her time with you, gets off when you have to say please

segueing into nsfw… praise kink spit kink gentle domination vers dynamic hey now

loves it when you show her how desperate you are for her, through words or otherwise. while i can’t see her being much of a talker herself (not to say that’s at all), she encourages your blathering about how good she feels, how much you need her. bonus points if you throw her name in there somewhere

should the occasion arise will absolutely put you through the mattress with the strap, but much more so an acoustic girl. two finger tongue combo diva. for her, it’s all about feeling you. how you contract around her, the little signals your body gives her she’s learned so well

to her, that’s the main point of sex. feeling as much of you as she can, feeling close to you, showing you how much she worships you. it’s filthy, yet reverent and devoted. gets a little possessive sometimes, because you’re hers and only she can have you how she does

whether it be arched up, her fingers plowing into you as she kisses her way over your upper back, hand threaded through your hair. stopping to suck a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, murmuring to ask if you can take three (she knows you can, just wants to hear you say it)

or on top of her, legs slotted together and your hand firmly bracing yourself on her knee whilst you rut against her. hearing her get slightly louder and higher pitched, revelling in the way she looks up at you, brows drawn and eyes full. shared wetness pooling and mingling, her hands all over you like she can’t decide which inch of sweat-sheened skin she wants to touch more

or after you’ve eaten her out and she’s still coming down, you running a hand over the outside of her thigh then kissing over her stomach — making your way back up to her lips, allowing her to taste herself through the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. licking into her dirtily, running a thumb over her lower lip and softly telling her to open. abby doing as you say; always does as you say. a glob of spit falling from your mouth to hers which she accepts gladly, breathing jagged as she swallows. spurred on, dragging you back in with fervor, moving a hand to circle over your sopping clit

she’s never been like this with anyone, never wanted everything of a person so badly. she’d do anything for you, to you, let you do anything to her

while she does like it to be languid, to last, sometimes she can’t help herself. it’ll be the morning and she’ll rouse, tired eyes dragging over your form. abby shifting closer and wrapping an arm around your waist, you’ll stir a little and groan softly, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek and pivoting your head to give her a kiss. both brains still foggy, operating on basic wants, it doesn’t take long for it to turn from an innocent good morning peck to a desperate mess of tongues. then, to her mouthing at your neck, sliding her fingertips over your bare torso to knead at your breast. you’ll tilt your head back, let out a mewl of her name, before remembering it’s a weekday.

“what time is it?” you’ll ask, freezing and subconsciously trying to look at the clock.

“don’t worry, we’ve got time,” she’ll respond against your skin without missing a beat, hand making its way between your legs and coaxing a sharp exhale from you, “i’ll be quick, i promise.”

she knows you well — she certainly can be quick. still has time to make you that coffee she always does, too.

[revelboo]

If You did a Vehicon Crack fic you would absolutely make my day! I love the Vehicons they have so much personality and its adorable!

Just one request: more fluff than smut <3 I’m a sucker for some sweetness (You dont have to its just a personal preference that I’d enjoy) TY! Happy writing! X3

Sure! Poor guys really got the short end of the stick in TFP (and TF One.)

Coin-Operated Boy

Vehicons x Reader

• Breath catching, you go still at the sink and the wet plate in your hands slips from your fingers to shatter on the floor. Staring as the thing dragging itself across your yard goes out of sight. What the heck did you just see? And it didn’t just crawl in your open garage, did it? Not really sure, you pick up the half finished glass of wine on the counter and tip it into the sink with the soapy water. You know better. That this is exactly how those idiots in the horror movies die as you grab a broom and head toward the door that leads down into the garage. Turning the knob and cracking the door, you can hear something moving around down there. Common sense screaming at you to run instead of leaning in to look.

• Dragging himself further into the shelter he found, he finally touches his side and feels the wet, warm energon he’s bleeding. He’s had close calls before, though. Always comes through. Knows the other Vehicons have a running joke about how many times he should have offlined by now. Like when Megatron had chucked him off the Nemesis. He’d survived that, he can survive anything. Sure. Head lifting as something breaks, he growls a low warning when he spots the little organic standing at the top of the stairs with its pitiful weapon.

• It’s a robot. A big, weird looking alien robot bleeding glowing stuff on the concrete. And a childish part of yourself is absolutely delighted, remembering The Iron Giant and Short Circuit, while the rest of you is trying to remember what the Terminator theme sounds like. Because this giant is as likely to crush you as be friendly. And its flickering visor stares at you before its head swings toward the road. Starts trying to drag itself deeper into your garage and you tear your eyes from it to the road, seeing a big semi truck idling slowly along. Is it in trouble? Hiding?

• “Don’t,” he snarls when you start down the stairs and you set the weapon aside, holding up your empty hands. You’re either deaf, fearless, or dumb. Not that he trusts you at all, engine grumbling as loudly as he dares with the Autobot so close. And you flatten yourself against the wall to scoot past him, keeping just out of reach. Tensing as you get to the opening, he waits for you to bolt. Knows it’ll get the Prime’s attention. That his luck has finally ran out.

• Biting your lip and hoping you’re not making a terrible mistake, you hit the button to close the garage door. Aware of the thing staring at you, still growling. And it scoots itself, a leg dragging and you freeze. Because now you can’t squeeze by without getting within grabbing range. Its head tips, visor still flickering and you lift a hand. “Hi,” you say, realizing you’re trapped. Now you remember the Terminator theme.

• Had you just protected him? Why? Moving slowly, he lifts his own hand to mimic your greeting and you bare your little teeth at him. Are you smiling? Painfully shifting to get his back against the wall, he lays his head back. Watching you edge closer to him. You’re no threat, too little to hurt him. Gritting his denta behind his mask, he vents softly.

Next

[dessarchive]

now introducing the future of music and entertainment, endless options of sound (eos)

eos is an app that i script into most of my drs. i got inspired to create it after coming across a video on youtube of someone re-designing spotifys UI. i’ve used spotify, apple music, amazon music, youtube music, and many more music streaming services and none of them ever lived up to my expectations, so i thought why not create what i’ve always wanted? i took a long hard look at all of the features i wish the current apps had and put them all into one. i posted about it before on my previous account but didn’t go into the actual details much. it started as a music streaming app when it was launched but became much more than that. it’s one of my favorite parts of my drs because i’m an avid music listener and the features are to die for. eos is the only music streaming app in my drs. i also have a ceo dr where i’m the ceo of it because this app has basically become my child!!! anyways here’s what i have after working on it for months!

eos was launched on october 31, 2001 by robyn fenty (she’s older LMAO) and aliyah haughton. the app immediately gained popularity as the first and only music streaming service. it was created as a space where everyone could enjoy music. years later it implemented audiobooks, podcasts, music videos, interviews, merch, and concert tickets. it stands out with its flawless performance that never crashes or has bugs, its exceptional algorithm for fresh experiences each playtime, and its features like eosoulmates that connects users through shared music tastes.

lyrics and subtitles are always available in any language desired by the user and the platform includes organization like no other. exclusive presale codes are able for top listeners of specific artists because the app has its own ticketing system. eos is free for all users as the founders wanted to make a space to unify people during life’s challenge. to maintain this while making sure artists are fairly paid, revenue is generated through a share of concert ticket and merchandise sales, in-app donations directly supporting artists, non-intrusive sponsorships and partnerships, and grants from philanthropic organizations. this guarantees that eos stays true to making music accessible while supporting creators and users globally.

to expand on existing sounds of music and entertainment, the service implemented dolby atmos to its highest quality with no extra price to artists for using it.

eos also features eos karaoke: sing it your way. within this are lyrics that are displayed in perfect sync with customizable highlighting options, while users can adjust the original vocals (mute, reduce, or add harmonies) for a personalized performance. advanced pitch tracking gives real-time feedback, along with timing guides and a practice mode for perfecting songs. voice effects like reverb, autotune, and fun filters are available to take things to a higher level or have fun with friends and family. dual-screen mode connects to tvs for party setups and users can enjoy duets with friends or group singing for up to 10 people. karaoke playlists are curated based on mood, listening habits, or vocal range. sessions can be recorded and shared with friends or on social media. a scoring system with feedback helps users improve their singing while earning fun badges. eos karaoke also offers live virtual karaoke rooms, offline mode for downloaded tracks, and customizable themes for lyric screens and backgrounds. a special kid-friendly mode ensures the fun for all age groups.

eos allows music and entertainment to be accessible, fun, and, immersive to everyone.

[mullermilkshake]

Don’t leave me all on my own, it’ll break me

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

Jinwoo proves to you that you and his children and his first priority.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnant reader, angst, upset, bonding, manipulation and taking advantage

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

Kind reminder - I have only seen the anime, I’ll get round to reading the manhwa, but I have a lot going on in my life at the moment that's affecting my health so it'll be a while, so if anything seems ooc, I’m working on it lol 😎. I only know of what the anime showed, nothing else, I’m trying to remain spoiler free but it’s proving difficult. I'm researching what I can and I've had stuff spoiled that way too 😂 I try to keep the characters as canon as I can but they write themselves. (Yeah, they can be unruly like that) that being said, I am taking into account of your comments and what sort of storyline you're wanting to see, (but please don't ask for anything to be added) I’m going at this chapter by chapter, by the seat of my pants. I have no clue what these characters are doing until they do it 😂

Thank you for your patience and continued support, I fell in love with the anime immediately and adored this fandom the minute I stepped into it and I’ve been welcomed with opened arms which I appreciate.

I love you, pookies!

(Also, if anyone knows how I could read the manwha offline, I'd really appreciate it. 🤗)

"Jinwoo... is that true?" 

You ignored the rumble of excitement, the journalists shoving mics in your face and endless questions that Jinwoo couldn’t quite hear. Your betrayed look broke his heart.

“No. it’s not-”

“Hunter Sung! Can you comment on the good news?” 

“How far along, has it been a smooth pregnancy so far?” 

“Hunters, what happens now that Hunter Sung is leaving? What of this facility?” 

Jinwoo pushed past the journalist’s invasive questions and guarded you enough to pry you away from their grasp. He ignored Jong-in’s calls and stormed past Have-in to slip back into the room he'd been in before and shut the door to the world behind him. It took everything in his self restraint that was barely there not to flatten the entire room. Killing all of them seemed about as close to reaching neutrality as Jinwoo was going to get. 

You just stood there, in silence, staring at the wall in that oversized sweater hiding the twins away from prying eyes. So broken and empty, your eyes plain and emotionless despite the tear slipping from your cheek.

It was the only thing to cool Jinwoo down from erupting. The only thing, besides you and the babies that leashed his impulsivity was giving away any inclination to what his darker side was like until he got what he wanted. It was why the Chairman still had a head. Why Jong-in still had his face intact.

“This is…” How could Jinwoo tell you without making himself look guilty? Without proving the Chairman’s lies on desperation you would not take them at face value.

“Are you leaving me- putting me in that place like Hae-in? You said you didn’t want that… tell me it’s not true, because I can’t believe that…” You breath picked up, erratically filling the rooms unsettled quiet amongst the rumble behind the doors.

“I’m not.” He said, taking two steps towards you.

“No.” You backed away, biting your trembling lip. “Don’t come near me… After all that about never trusting the association with the babies and putting your foot down about help from the Chairman- and, fuck, I don’t know what to think. you say you care and have these feelings, but I saw you go off and talk to the Chairman. If you want to be rid of me, just say it. But I have to hear it from you, not publicly in a room full of people!”

You were pregnant, hormonal and therefore unreasonable. Jinwoo didn’t take it to heart despite it hurting, had this been any other time, you would have used logic.

Jinwoo couldn’t bear seeing you cry. “He dropped it on me. I told him no before he could even finish. I would never do that because I-”

He had to stop himself, you had only just gotten used to being addressed as his girlfriend, no way could you take hearing his love for you too. It was all happening too fast in one singular moment. 

It can’t end like this. 

“Because what?” You said, wrapping your arms around you and blinking the residual tears away after your curiosity got the better of you.

“I just think we should take a minute to simmer down-”

“What were you going to say?” You stepped closer, but never touched him.

Jinwoo wanted to tell you, he really did. He craved it, using three words to express himself where he hadn’t been allowed to yet. No room to spread his wings and really let himself go to embrace you and his new found purpose with no limitations.

“Because…” Even upset, eyes red and wet, you were so beautiful. What could he say to you that wasn’t what he was feeling?

“Because you what, Jinwoo?! I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m really freaking out here!”

“Because I love you, that’s why!” There it was. No turning back now.

He should never have shouted or raised his voice. That was unfair to you.

It seemed to calm you though, oddly enough. Though it could have been shock. “You what?”

“I love you. You’re the mother of my children, and you think I’d leave you in that place just to fuck someone I don’t care about? To keep the Chairman happy? Never. I don’t want to be anywhere that isn’t with you, I’d lay down on the floor so you could walk all over me if it made you happy. I’m disappointed that I haven’t communicated that well enough with my actions, but I’ll show you every day until you understand… I shut Chairman Go down right away and walked out, I never agreed to this. It’s not what I want, it’s not what I’ll ever want. The Chairman's programme can go to hell.”

You stood there, taking deep breaths into the sleeve of your sweater, which soon switched to more shallow and panicked. “You… is that… Oh my god- oh god… it’s too hot in here- I need this off- I need it off.”

Jinwoo rushed to your side and tried to pry your hands from your sweater neck, stretching the material with little whimpered cries and more tears that Jinwoo had ever seen from your eyes.

“I can’t breathe- get it off- get it off of me!”

Another mana spike came right in front of Jinwoo’s eyes, more powerful than last time. And his shadows even noticed, it triggered Igris to appear for a moment before his eyes though Jinwoo never called him forward. You however, were too riled up to notice, if you could now sense the twins aura all of a sudden, you didn’t let on.

“Jinwoo!”

He pulled your sweater off and kept you close, your limp body sobbing into his shirt, clutching at it for dear life in a wet mess. Jinwoo stroked your hair as a way to try to comfort you after dropping his heart on the room, a lot to process when the timing was all wrong

Jinwoo crouched down to the floor, you moved down with him and sat in his lap all curled up and clinging to his arm. The babies aura was still heightened, pulsing almost. They must have been responding to you, though Jinwoo was surmising, you still didn’t notice.

“I’m so tired of this. I just want to be left alone. I want everyone to leave us alone, Jinwoo.” 

“I know… I know…”

After the initial shock of declaring his love for you, Jinwoo rocked you.  He needed to do something about the Chairman sooner rather than later, this could not continue and it prompted him to take the initiative, to attempt to send one of his shadows into the Chairman’s presence the next opportunity. He could have been as perceptive as you for all Jinwoo knew, but he had to try. The Chairman wouldn’t get away with upsetting you like this again, he simply wouldn’t allow it. Though if anything the Chairman did succeed in, was allowing Jinwoo the choice to use violence.

Violence on the old man and if he was lucky, if he pushed Jinwoo far enough, he’d cease to exist regardless of the backlash or consequences. In truth, who was actually strong and fast enough to even out match him to throw punishment his way?

I could kill him and anyone else who tried to stop me. The way I feel now, I doubt I’d feel any remorse for it. It wasn't a good intrusive thought no matter how much Jinwoo agreed with it.

“Oh god… I’m such a mess. I was never this emotional.” You sniffled, rubbing your cheek against his shirt and fiddling with the collar. “You… really love me?”

“I do. So much. I just didn’t say anything because I was worried you’d leave.”

And just like that, the mana spike vanished and stopped pulsing like high blood pressure. A calm room, a calm mind. You relaxed in his arms, and the babies followed suit.

“I don’t know how to feel, I’m so confused-”

Jinwoo shook his head and watched you carefully, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Don’t overthink it. I get it if you don’t feel the same.”

Though the only thing he’d ask of you was your love in return, his desperation to be close to you switched things up, and now that need started to shift to even if you hated him. He’d still love you. He’d still commit unthinkable things for you if you asked.

“Just let me love you, let me take care of you and the babies. That's all I ask.”

“I never said I didn’t feel the same.” You said, pulling away just a fraction to look at him, nose all blushed and cheeks wet. “I’m not sure how to process this, but I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘I hate you Jinwoo, get the fuck out of here.’ at least. It gave him more hope than anything.

The sentimentality drew Jinwoo closer to you, gently rubbing your baby bump. “That’s enough for me. We can figure it all out as we go along.”

He knew with every inch you gave him, his impulses wanted a mile.

“What do we do now?”

He wanted to keep you in the confines of this room whilst he had it out with the Chairman. Jinwoo wanted to know why a man like as himself, with other responsibilities, was going to such lengths. The more time passed made him see just how much the Chairman had changed. Jinwoo wanted to get down to it, maybe fight the man to air his frustrations as to why he wanted such an influence over his children. He was the association. So why the underhanded tactics to piss Jinwoo off?

The Chairman knew what Jinwoo was capable of, so it made no sense why he was acting the way he was.

I have to know why. 

“We’ll exchange with one of my shadows, Igris will stay with you and I’ll pay the Chairman a visit. I think it’s about time we have a heart to heart.”

You made a disgusted sound, sitting up properly though remaining between his legs. “No, not that again. I threw up last time you took me with you.”

Information like that would have been useful at the time. Jinwoo was only showing you how it worked during the early days of your pregnancy in case he ever had to use it, though he never needed to, until now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, wiping the drying tears from your face. “I don’t know, you left for a raid before I felt sick, like it was delayed, but I put two and two together. It's not that serious. I think the babies don’t like it, like any mana I use or any that gets used on me, it’s like they hate it. They tolerate eye’s handmaiden, but that’s about it. It's passive, I have no control over that.”

“They move about more than usual?” Jinwoo set his hand back on your belly, rubbing away with his thumb.

“That’s the thing, it’s the opposite. They don’t move at all, it’s like they can’t be bothered with it. It’s only a little movement when they do, I can’t feel it outside yet. But they get active sometimes, like little flutters.”

Jinwoo was waiting for the moment you pulled him to the side and pressed his hand to your belly and wait for the babies movements, the little kicks from their tiny feet. Any day now, according to the doctor.

“Maybe their mana is so strong they don’t need to bother with it? We won’t know until they’re here, but if the data is suggesting that they’re using your mana is correct, they might not be able to tolerate anyone else's."

“I thought about that.” You turned and leant back into him, pressing your back to his chest to which he kept his hands on you. “But I hoped they’d do well with yours at least, you know, being their… Dad.”

What a big turn of events? You’d never really mentioned Jinwoo’s role in this, like his real role. He was the twins father, he would always be. It was like you were coming to terms with it, finally accepting the best to come.

“Could be.”

“Or… maybe they’re just lazy, ever thought of that-“ 

You felt it, Jinwoo did too.

“I think they heard that.” Jinwoo stared in awe, he understood the distinct movement on your belly, a subtle kick, but it was there. “That was what I think it was, right?”

Holy shit. 

It was there, his babies. His babies moving right by his hand like they were trying to grab his fingers. Less than four months to go and he’d hold them in his arms. Four months and his life would change forever. 

“Yeah… I… did they- no they’re babies, they can’t respond, can they?”

Jinwoo chuckled, your stuttering was even cuter this time. Much better than tears streaming down your face. “I think we should start talking to them now, when we get home. Maybe they’ll get used to hearing us?”

For now, Jinwoo’s anger had melted away.

For now.  

But he still wanted a word with the Chairman. Also with Jin-chul, the elusive man who seemed to have vanished from the Chairman’s side.

“Maybe we should. That’s if we can get past that shit show out there. Honestly, it's stressing me out more than if we were just left alone... I'm pregnant with twins, not outer world beings, or gods. I get the excitement, but come on."

“Yeah. We need to think about this carefully, going forward. Something that’ll get the Chairman to back off-”

Actually, this could go in his favour.

An announcement. A big one. Huge. Astronomical. Something to make it difficult for the Chairman to sweep away. A statement that could outshine your pregnancy.

Something extremely public.

“I might have an idea that would stop all of this.” It wasn’t fair to spring this on you while you were vulnerable, or after he’d just told you he loved you, but Jinwoo saw the opportunity and ran with it. “It’s pretty crazy, but it would stop people from interfering.”

“What’s that?”

Should he? Could he? You might slap him if he didn’t ride your mood swing right. 

“Marry me."

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[wildehacked]

im in the mood for hugs apparently. so "just really needed a hug sort of hug" for buddie :)

This is both true to the spirit of the prompt and a little dark, sorry. CW for grief, canon-typical death and violence. Classic h/c shit. * It’s Buck’s Kelly day, so Eddie’s partnered with Ravi when they get called out to the goriest scene they’ve been to in a while. Overworked Amazon driver fell asleep at the wheel; the van crashed through the front window of a Starbucks during the eight am before work rush. It’s awful, grinding, bloody work; Eddie digs the driver out of the wreck, and she has a concussion but she’s otherwise fine. He has to hold her back when she realizes what she’s done and starts screaming. He sends her to the hospital where the cops will be waiting for her, even though her shift manager’s the one they should arrest, and then he helps Chim bag a woman who went under the wheels, DOA. She’s white, brunette with bangs, and for a second Eddie’s heart seizes. He blinks again and his heart resumes its regular rhythm. 

Cap takes them offline so they can decontaminate—they all got coated in various bodily fluids on that one—and of course after Eddie’s showered and changed and filled out paperwork, he gets a call from his mom. 

Less said about that, the better. He has a pulsing headache for most of the afternoon. They go on two false alarm medical calls, transport a man with a broken ankle to the ER, and Eddie gets an email from Chris’s school letting him know that Chris got a D- on his big English paper, and that he’ll need to revise if he wants to pass the class. That’s gonna be a fun conversation. Eddie swallows three ibuprofen with a cup of cold coffee, ignoring Hen’s wince. So what if he’s giving himself an ulcer.

Bobby makes comfort food for dinner, because they all need it after the awful morning—spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, iceberg lettuce salad. Eddie eats, but his head’s still going, so the comfort’s a little sparse. 

He tries to call Chris after dinner, but Chris doesn’t pick up. Eddie gets a text a few minutes later that reads hey were in a movie rn, and Eddie writes back okay mijo just checking in. love you, which Chris thumbs up. They get called out to the beach for a dog bite; Eddie chases after the dog in question, but can’t catch him. He does almost wipe out on the boardwalk, though. The night is just on the edge of too cool, not quite summer-perfect, but the moon is full and yellow over the ocean. Chim makes a crack about the full moon crazies, and Eddie rolls his eyes and twists to give Buck shit about it too, but of course Buck’s still not there. 

You been in a mood all day, Hen says, nudging Eddie’s boot with her boot when they’re back in the rig. You good? 

I’m good, Eddie says, just thinking about this morning, and everyone’s faces go somber as they agree. And it was a rough morning. But Eddie’s going to hell, because that’s not what he’s thinking about, not really. 

It’s March 23rd. He could say that out loud, could remind everyone of the date, and no one would know why it matters. Because it doesn’t, to anyone else on the planet. They go check out an apartment building where someone burnt falafel. The problem apartment’s on the fifth floor with no elevator. Eddie’s phone pings as he’s putting the industrial fans back in the rig; it’s a text from Buck, a picture of him and Chris and Chris’s friend Dylan in front of three enormous burgers, looks like Islands. There isn’t really any reason for that to make Eddie’s chest go tight and aching, but there you go. He taps a heart onto it. 

Saved you some fries, Buck sends, like it’s possible to save fries from Islands and have them still be edible the next day.  Guess you didn’t see the email from the school, Eddie sends back, because seriously, Islands and a movie after a D-? 🍔💪📝🚨is what Buck writes back, which Eddie basically takes to mean: I have a strategy in place. He catches a few hours of sleep. The alarm wakes him from a dream about Shannon and Buck. The two of them were the leads in the school play, because Eddie was back in high school, and he was supposed to be in the play too, but he forgot his lines. Eddie, relax, Shannon said, smiling at Buck, who had his hand wrapped around her waist like he was her husband, not Eddie. We got this. 

It’s a late night medical call at a memory care home; not much for him and Ravi to do, just playing support to Hen and Chim. He checks his phone, and there’s another text from Buck that came in while he slept: Chris and Dylan studying at the kitchen table, English books cracked open, Chris laughing at something Dylan said. It’s a live photo, so there’s even a couple seconds of Chris laughing in there, high pitched and silly. Eddie hearts it. 

When they get back to the firehouse, the sun is rising, and it’s no longer Shannon’s birthday. Eddie should be relieved, but he just feels drained. She’d be thirty-four. No one warned him about this part—how every year you look back at the pictures and she just looks like more of a baby. 

Cap claps him on the shoulder when he’s heading out to his truck, like he knows, even though there’s no way he could possibly know. 

Eddie gets through morning traffic okay. He parks the truck, lets himself in. The house is pretty quiet, which means Chris is still asleep (typical teen.) Buck’s in the kitchen, doing last night’s dishes. He’s got rubber dish gloves on, and he gives Eddie a distracted smile over his shoulder as he comes in. Hey, he says. 

Hey, Eddie says, and instead of any of the sane things he could say after that, like—how was your day yesterday, or is there coffee yet, or I think I’m gonna pass out for a few hours, he just steps in close, wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, and buries his face in Buck’s shoulder. Safe, familiar Buck smell in his nostrils. Solid Buck body in his arms, warm and pulsing with breath and heartbeat. Eddie exhales. 

Buck turns off the faucet. He pulls off one rubber glove, then gives up on the other one and twists around in Eddie’s arms—Eddie participates reluctantly—until they’re front to front, and he can hug Eddie back. That is better, Buck fitting perfectly into him, holding him the same way Eddie is holding him. Eddie tilts his face into Buck’s neck, and Buck uses the hand that isn’t wearing a soapy dish glove to stroke over his hair. It feels good. 

Bad shift? Buck murmurs, and Eddie doesn’t answer, frowning into Buck’s skin. Buck hums against his temple. That’s okay, he says anyway, soft and mindless. I got you, Eddie, I got you. 

Eddie keeps breathing Buck in, keeps hanging on. Buck forgets about the rubber glove, and a wet soapy hand comes to rest over Eddie’s right scapula. A burst of fondness punctures the wall of relief. 

Thanks, Eddie says finally, not letting him go yet, but trying to persuade himself that he’s going to. 

Buck kisses his forehead. Anytime, he says, then uses his one normal hand and his other soapy hand to tilt Eddie up into a real kiss. 

Eddie lets it happen, closing his eyes. He’s thirty-four. He was married for eight years; Shannon’s been gone for almost eight again. He has the best kid in the world; he has Buck, he has a meaningful job he’s grateful to still love. His best friend is dead, and he misses her. His best friend is kissing him right now, his heart beating fast and steady right against Eddie’s, and Eddie doesn’t have to miss him yet. 

You taste like spaghetti, Buck murmurs dreamily into his mouth, and Eddie bursts out laughing, finally relaxes his death grip on Buck’s ribs. Guess I forgot to brush my teeth last night, sorry. Bobby made spaghetti? Buck says indignantly, like he was deliberately left out, and tries to lick the taste back out of Eddie’s mouth, which doesn’t work perfectly, because Eddie’s still laughing.