#how much it means to have a home and safe space to go to where those boundaries will be respected

[bloodandiron-if]

What are the ROs love languages?

⚠️ LENGTHY CONTENT INCOMING ⚠️

- - -

OPERATIVE D-6

Physical Touch (only with the MC)

D-6 shows love by staying close to you.

They’ll rest a hand on your knee when you’re tense. Brush your hair back from your face after a fight. Patch you up slowly and carefully, potentially having their fingers linger where they probably shouldn’t.

They don’t speak much—but their touch says: “I’m still here—and I’m not going anywhere.” And in private, when they’re sure your both alone and safe, they’ll cling themselves against your side—burying into your body like it’s home. (in correlation to the big spoon/little spoon ask)

A single touch from them means more than a thousand words.

- - -

DETECTIVE JUNO REYES

Acts of Service

Juno protects you before you know you’re in danger.

Fixes your clothes. Sharpens your knife. Makes the hard calls so you don’t have to. They don’t say “I love you,” they say “I’ll handle it.”

If you’re bleeding, they’re already kneeling. If you’re breaking, they’ll carry your guilt like it’s their own. That’s how they love—by shouldering what you shouldn’t ever have to.

“You don’t owe me anything. This is just what you do—for the person you care for.”

- - -

NICO/NIA RUSSO

Quality Time

Russo shows love by sticking around when no one else does.

They’ll loiter at your side after shifts, flick pizza crusts at you from across the counter—and if you smoke—drag you out for a smoke break you didn’t ask for.

They don’t always talk about it, but they choose you—over and over again. When they could be anywhere, they’re next to you, grinning like it’s a joke.

“I don’t do people who waste my time. You? You’re different. You’re real.”

- - -

KIERAN/KIERA MYLES

Gift Giving

Myles leaves things behind without fanfare.

A rare book slid into your bag. A replacement weapon where your old one broke. A custom jacket with hidden armor, tailored to your frame.

They give you pieces of the world they move through—dangerous, expensive and intentional. Every gift whispers, “I see you,” and every one of them has a purpose you didn’t realize you needed.

“It’s not sentiment. It’s precision. And you’re worth it.”

- - -

ALEX/ALEXI MONROE

Physical Touch

Monroe is all hands, all warmth, all soft little touches that come out of nowhere.

They don’t even think about it most of the time—hooking their pinky around yours while you’re standing, brushing their thumb over your knuckles when you’re not looking. Kisses? Always spontaneous, soft, and a little rushed—like they just remembered how much they missed you. And they always kiss you like they mean it.

When you’re busy doing something else, they’ll just… drape themselves over you. Full body weight, like a cat that’s decided this is where they live now.

Nose buried in your neck, arms loose around your waist, barely any space between you. They don’t say it—but that’s the point.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m right here. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

- - -

ROWAN/RHEA CARTER

Words of Affirmation

Carter doesn’t love silently.

They speak to you with unbridled purpose, as if every word contains a strong sense of importance—with that little hint of danger. They will let you know when you are brave—when you are kind—when you aren't fine, but you keep trying.

They never try to sugarcoat anything they say because they always express exactly what they mean—even if it's embarrassing to hear at times. They address the version of yourself that you don't believe is worth saving—and call it absolutely beautiful.

Carter is every right righteous, and a figure capable of changing everything. Their words become armour around your ribs, instilling a hidden faith in you that you had no idea would’ve existed without them.

“You’re still here. After everything. That matters more than you think.”

[ingravinoveritas]

For those who haven't heard this, this is a clip from the episode of David Tennant Does A Podcast With... featuring Olivia Colman, from 2019. In this clip, Olivia and David talk about people filming them without permission, the ubiquity of camera phones, and the idea of "home" as a sanctuary from loss of privacy. I thought it was something interesting to think about and consider, especially in the wake of recent events.

Transcript of notable bits below:

(Talking about a woman filming David on the set of Broadchurch) Olivia: "[...]And I was very defensive on your behalf, too." David: "I remem--Yes, there was that wonderful day on the pier at West Bay. Where I was having some microphone wire put down my trouser leg. It was very undignified." Olivia: "I think she was videoing you. From a table's distance away." David: "Yeah. I was very touched that you were furious, and you leapt at this woman. Although she sort of still didn't notice, did she? She sort of grinned and kept filming." --- Olivia: "I have friends that I adore and I like going to safe places with them--my home or their home or something." --- Olivia: "Now I noticed the world's changed. Everyone's got a fucking camera. And people are desensitized to fellow humans." David: "When you first lose that anonymity, it's quite threatening. It's much more threatening than you imagine it's going to be objectively. Cause you imagine that sort of--for want of a better word, celebrity--it somehow empowers you, but actually I think it's the opposite."

[tumble-tv]

ICE raids are happening.

Any immigrants, no matter how long you have been a citizen of the USA, is at risk of being deported either out of the country as a whole or into what are basically concentration camps. Raids starting in Chicago, Illinois. and spreading to other major cities with high POC and Hispanic populations. The US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) have started raiding homes and families in California.

There are no "protected locations" as of January 21, 2025. Hospitals, schools, and churches are all at risk of being raided, where before these places were deemed safe and off limits to raids.

When it comes to spotting an ICE agent, look for these:

Weirdly neat/well kept hair (shaved heads, side parts, military burs for men; low buns, high ponytails, close cropped bobs for women)

Oversized jacket (long and bulky outerwear makes it easier to hide tools/equipment without being suspicious)

Both hands in pockets

Many undercover agents/cops buy cheap plain clothes off the racks so they aren’t seen in their own clothes. This can make their outfit seem awkward

Sweatshirts with the hood up

Sports apparel (warm up jacket, sweats, etc) with non-sports clothes (jeans, cargo shorts)

Cargo pants/shorts (usually full of items like their badge, flashlight, taser, pepper spray, backup handcuffs, zip ties)

Military or hiking style boots, sometimes chunky sneakers (extra points if none of it matches anything in their outfit)

Outline of a gun in their pants/shirt (easy to see when bending, leaning, or raising arms) (NO NOT SAY ANYTHING)

Overly friendly

Overly inquisitive

“How old are you” and “what do you know about this happening” are both red flags, along with generally odd and personal questions

Don’t fit in

Mismatched pairs in public spaces (usually cops do these things in pairs. They don’t talk to each other or acknowledge each other much, if at all)

DO NOT SAY ANYTHING UNTIL YOU ARE 100% SURE

YOUR BEST BET IS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING UNTIL THE SUSPECT STARTS ACTING OFF AND GETTING PUSHY

COPS ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO TELL YOU THAT THEY ARE UNDERCOVER

COPS CAN AND WILL LIE TO YOU

SCREAM “LA MIGRA” AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS

For protesting:

N95 masks

Respirator/gas mask if you have access to one

Water water water water water (I hate to say it, but disposable one use bottles are best here. If it comes to it, you need to be able to drop and run.) Use for flushing wounds, flushing eyes of tear gas, and of course drinking.

Snacks! You'll be doing a lot of walking and/or running and need to keep that energy up. Trail mix, dried fruit, nuts, granola bars, crackers, jerky/meat sticks, fruit snacks, candy, etc. Think of it like packing your lunchbox for a field trip.

Eyedrops (teargas is a bitch)

Goggles (I bring my old snowboarding goggles)

If you are wearing a t-shirt or have exposed skin, put on fake/temporary tattoos. If you are brought into something and they say you were there, showing a picture of you with the tattoos, show them where that tattoo would be and how there’s nothing there. How would you get rid of a giant flower on your forearm in 2 days anyways?

Wigs fall under the same category as tattoos. The person they're claiming to be you has a blonde bob and you have green hair past your shoulders.It also makes it possible to go with a completely different color without the use of hair dye. This means if they try to arrest you later and try to prove it was you by taking your hair and testing for dye, it won't come back the way they hope. (Thank you @violetrosepetals for this addition!)

Hide your hair. I tuck my hair into my beanie since it’s short. If you have longer hair, try to do the same or tuck it into your shirt. Balaclavas are also a good choice, as they cover both your face and hair.

Power bank

Chargers

Helmet. Any is fine, my personal choice is a skating helmet since they’re rounder and can take more damage, but tactical is also good

Hand sanitizer

Gloves with hard knuckles (tactical gloves). These pack a good punch even if you don't have the correct form. Don't have those? Wrist guards for roller skating/skateboarding work kinda like that too. More of a slapping motion, but still hurt like a bitch. Extra points if they're all scuffed up from use and falls.

Bandanas. Somebody might need one for their face or hair, maybe you need to get dirt off somebody’s face, maybe somebody got injured. They’re great for anything and everything.

Cash (try to stick to cash, your card can be tracked)

Medications if you take them. If you get arrested or happen to somehow be away for longer than expected after the protest, it’s always good to have emergency meds

FIRST AID ALL THE FIRST AID (Tourniquet, Quikclot, chest seal, trauma shears, gauze, bandages, duct tape, and all the usual stuff you’d have in there)

Good shoes. Boots and sneakers are your best choices. Not heels, not platforms, not sandals. Good boots or shoes that won't come off your feet too easily when you run. Steel toed shoes are a great option. Your toes won't be squashed, but also it'll hurt someone a lot more if you start kicking.

Spare socks. Trust me. You can use them to stop bleeding if it comes to it, but also you can put rocks in there and boom weapon. Also if the socks you're wearing get wet.

As much covering clothing as you can handle. Plain jeans, plain hoodie, plain t-shirt, keep yourself as anonymous as possible. Black and baggy is best.

Photocopy of your ID, not your real one.

Sunscreen!

Make sure your clothes have pockets, even if you have a bag. You want everything to be easily accessible.

Do not wear contact lenses. If tear gas is used, that will make everything so much worse. Wear your glasses or go blind. If you have overly unique or identifiable frames, goggles are your friend here. Get some goggles that will fit over your frames, preferably ones that are tinted.

If you use mobility aids, cover defining features. Logos, brand names, colors, stickers, all of it. Take some old plain t-shirt and tie it around your wheelchair’s backrest. Wrap your wheelchair frame in cling wrap, then duct tape, or plain black self adhering medical tape. Cover stickers on your cane or crutches the same way. Electric chair? You have a little more work, but you can do it. Wrap it up. Same idea. Walker? Same thing. Cover. It. All.

If you are bringing a bag, make sure that bag is as plain as possible. No pins. No patches. No keychains. Except maybe a pride flag so people know which team you're playing on.

Scarf or keffiyeh if you have one. They have many uses!

Write a reliable phone number (of someone who is not at the protest with you) on your body. On the off chance you get arrested, that is your emergency contact.

Pocket knife.

Pepper spray/mace/bear spray

if you get tear gassed, shake around first before using water. Most tear gas is more of a powder and water has a high likelihood of just spreading it around. (Thank you @actually-a-bread-loaf for this addition!)

Tennis rackets also work wonderfully for chucking tear gas canisters back at those throwing them. Anybody asks, you're going out to play tennis with friends later. Baseball bats also work! (Thank you @azul-nova-24 for this addition!)

Anything you can throw. Soup for my family.

IF YOU CAN, LEAVE YOUR PHONE AT HOME

IF YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT WITH YOU, TURN OFF LOCATION SERVICES ON ALL APPS AND TURN OFF BIOMETRICS (FACE ID AND FINGERPRINT) SO YOU CAN ONLY UNLOCK YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR PASSWORD

COPS CAN FORCE YOU TO OPEN YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR FINGERPRINT OR FACE ID

MAKE SURE SOMEBODY KNOWS GENERALLY WHERE YOU ARE

If you see a potential or active raid, take pictures and note the time and location. Post online if you can, as well.

You have the right to remain silent. State that you wish to remain silent. Avoid giving information about anybody's immigration status. You have the right to refuse to sign anything before speaking to an attorney. You have the right to refuse searches of your car, your home, and yourself. Schools do not collect a child's immigration status.

I do not want to scare anybody, but this is what life is right now. That man does not care how long you have been a citizen of this country. If you are not a white, cisgender, heterosexual, Christian male, you are seen as less than by men in power. You are not less than. You are a threat to them, and they are scared. Keep it that way.

Even if you're not currently protesting, it's good to know this just in case. Things are happening very quickly, and there is a very high chance of it changing very quickly within the next four years.

Here's the link to my post on what to bring in terms of first aid.

If you cannot attend protests, that’s fine. Do what’s best for you. Even just reposting information helps.

This is an updated version of this post,

Updated January 27, 2025.

[ofsunshineandfoxes]

Ok, so I know we make a lot of jokes about how gay the Trojans are, but after reading tgr… that’s totally on purpose

There’s a reason that Rhemman respects Wymack so much, and it’s that they’re doing the same thing. Where Wymack has made a team that’s a haven for kids who need a second chance, Rhemman has made one that’s a safe space for queer athletes.

Rhemman’s quieter about it, in part because he can be, and in part for the safety of his kids, but it’s the same thing Wymack’s doing. And while he might not be as outspoken about it, he’s absolutely putting out the signals for those who might need to know. Just look at who his captains are. Jeremy, who’s had a lot of attention for being unsubtly gay. And Xavier, a trans man who has transitioned while vice-captain and isn’t trying to hide it.

And if his two captains weren’t a loud enough signal that his team was a safe space, you have the team’s reputation. They’re known for being nice to everyone. Anyone who joins this team knows what standards they’re going to be held to and can guess that bullying won’t be tolerated within the team. More than that, the team’s reputation doesn’t just mean safety at home, it also acts as a shield for its players. It’s well established that almost no one beefs with the Trojans and going after one of their players is a taboo. (Yes Jean is the exception here, but the more entrenched in the team he gets the more it’ll be true for him too).

Rhemman has gone out of his way to make a space as safe as possible for queer athletes. And for those who need it, he’ll show them it’s possible to live a happy fulfilled life by modeling it for them. Rhemman and Wymack are two sides of the same coin.

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: You didn't think you'd find someone after your husband of 8 years suggested an open marriage. A few weeks after matching on a dating app, you find yourself swept away on a surprise getaway with none other than Seonghwa: your husband’s boss, and the man who’s been quietly turning your world upside down. The chemistry is undeniable, the tension electric, but you made a promise to be honest with your husband before things go too far. Still... what’s the harm in finding a few loop-holes? If it’s not technically sex, does it really count?

Word count: 13.1K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, a little angst, slow burn, smut (they do something so many times in this chapter lmao sorry i got carried away)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), TEASING, dom Seonghwa, fingering, oral (male/fem receiving), grinding hard (omg i don't know how to explain it, they're literally millimeters from just going at it), lmk if I missed anything! Author's note: I'm in a good mood. And you guys are literally so sweet and supporting, I can not NOT post chapter 2 already!? so here it is! I hope you have an amazing day <3

PART 1 PART3

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

You’re not sure how it’s been two weeks.

In some ways, everything feels exactly the same. Same apartment, same unread texts from your husband, same untouched conversation that’s been looming over you like a cloud.

But then there’s Seonghwa.

And somehow, everything feels different.

You talk every day. Constant check-ins, sweet little texts, voice notes when he’s driving, memes he knows will make you laugh. Sometimes he calls at night just to hear your voice before bed. And you don't think you're imagining it, that softness in the way he says your name, the unspoken want in his pauses.

You’ve seen him a few times. Nothing dramatic, no grand dates, just… him. His space. His voice. A mug of tea pressed into your hands. A blanket he tugged tighter around your shoulders without saying a word. Quiet dinners where you talked about the stupidest things, where you teased him until he cracked up, eyes crinkling, hand squeezing your knee under the table like he couldn’t not touch you.

And still, he never pushed. Never asked for more than what you were ready to give.

But that didn’t stop you from kissing him.

You kissed him on his couch after laughing too long at something dumb he said. You kissed him in his hallway when you were saying goodbye and didn’t want to leave. You kissed him once in the middle of a sentence because you couldn’t stop yourself.

Every time, it left you both breathless.

And every time, his hands stayed respectful, cupping your cheek, holding your waist, letting you choose how far. Letting you feel safe.

You don’t think he knows how much that means.

You’re still married. You still wear your ring as a reminder. And even if that feels like a technicality at this point, you haven’t had the conversation. Not the real one. You’ve tried texting your husband more than once, saying you needed to talk. Said you weren’t okay. You meant to say more, but what’s the point when all you get back is a thumbs up or "we’ll talk soon"?

He hasn't been home. He hasn’t asked how you are. You’ve stopped waiting for him to care.

So when your phone buzzes on Friday morning with Seonghwa’s name, you unlock it fast, too fast. Already smiling before you even read it.

Seonghwa: I need you to trust me. Pack a small weekend bag. No heels. Cozy clothes. Something to sleep in. Maybe a swimsuit. Pick you up at 5.

You stare at your phone for a full minute, grinning like an idiot.

You: Is this a kidnapping?

Seonghwa: Yes. But the softest, coziest kind. With snacks.

You: …Fine. I’m in.

Your smile falters, but in the softest way. Your heart melts.

Packing is easy. The hard part is waiting.

You toss in leggings, sweaters, that shirt of his you still haven’t returned. You throw in your swimsuit, mostly because you’re curious. And maybe because you like the idea of his eyes on you. And when you zip the bag closed, you find yourself hoping the quiet weekend isn’t too quiet. That maybe you’ll get to kiss him again, this time in a place where no one else exists but the two of you.

When he picked you up, he had two coffees in a cup holder and your favorite granola bars in the passenger seat. And the second you buckled in, he turned to you, eyes warm and voice soft.

“Hi.”

That it is. Just that one word. And your whole heart melted.

The two hour drive is filled with talking, laughing, and the occasional hand on the thigh from Seonghwa. You don’t know what to expect when he starts driving outside of town and into a wooded area, but when a lovely, aesthetic cabin comes into view, your mouth drops. The inside of the cabin wraps around you like a hug, but Seonghwa’s already moving, dropping both your bags by the coat rack and stretching with a groan that makes his hoodie ride up slightly.

“I should give you the grand tour,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you with that boyish smile that makes your chest do a weird little skip. “Even though it’s not really grand.”

You follow him through the cabin as he gestures casually, left to a small but cozy guest room, across to the bathroom with a deep old tub and brass fixtures, and then finally his room at the back of the cabin.

“This is mine,” he says, flicking on the light in his bedroom. It’s simple, wooden floors, navy sheets, a stack of books on the nightstand, but it’s very him. Soft and clean, masculine without trying.

You hover by the door. “Feels weirdly like you.”

He chuckles. “That’s either a compliment or you’re calling me boring.”

“Oh, definitely a compliment,” you murmur, eyes scanning the room. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Mm, well, let’s see if that still holds up.”

You raise a brow as he turns and heads toward a door at the end of the hall. “There’s more?”

“It’s technically the basement,” he says, grabbing a light switch and flipping it on, “but it’s my favorite part.”

You follow him down the short staircase, and the moment you step off the last stair, your mouth parts slightly.

The space is warm, not just heated, but glowing. Soft lighting reflects off the water of a wide, in-ground pool, steam rising lazily above it. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus and cedar, and the entire room is surrounded by smooth, stone-textured walls and plush seating tucked into corners. A wall of glass windows looks out into the forest beyond, the trees dark silhouettes in the fading light.

You turn to him, wide-eyed. “You have a pool. In your cabin.”

He shrugs a little, but the corner of his mouth pulls up. “Was kind of a present to my family. First thing I bought when things started going well.”

“Seonghwa.” You step forward and dip your fingers in the water, it’s warm and silky-soft. “We are absolutely coming back down here later,” you say.

He grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He watches you a beat longer, something unreadable behind his eyes, then says, “Gonna grab some firewood before it gets too dark. You okay here?”

You nod, but as he heads out, you drift back toward the living room, standing near the wide back windows.

He’s outside now, rolling up his sleeves as he stacks firewood like it weighs nothing. His jaw clenches when he lifts the heavier pieces, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed in focus. It’s almost criminal how good he looks like this. The sky’s turning gold behind him, making his skin glow, casting a soft light through his hair. And you just… stare.

Because this is the same man who ran his fingers gently through your hair on the couch, who kissed your forehead like it meant something, who told you to pack your bag for a weekend away without ever asking for anything in return.

But damn, he’s hot.

He glances toward the window and catches you watching. Raises a brow. Smirks. Doesn’t break eye contact as he sets the last log down and brushes his hands off on his jeans, and God, you feel like your skin is warming faster than the fireplace he’s about to light.

By the time he’s back inside, shaking the cold from his clothes, you’re in the kitchen, pretending you weren’t just ogling him like a teenage crush.

“See something you like?” he says as he walks by, voice low and teasing.

You scoff. “Relax, lumberjack. Just making sure you didn’t freeze to death.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything, just slides up behind you as you start pulling ingredients out of the bag he brought. His arms wrap around your waist loosely, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You cook, right?” you ask, leaning into him just a little.

“I survive,” he answers. “But for you, I’ll follow any recipe you give me.”

The kitchen fills with the soft sounds of chopping and the simmering of sauce, your bodies constantly brushing. He’s touchy in the most subtle ways, hand guiding your lower back as you switch places, fingers brushing yours as he hands you a spoon, lingering way too long when you try to rinse a dish and he steps in just to “help.”

At one point, you drop a piece of onion and groan, bending to pick it up, and he makes a soft, playful noise behind you.

“Dangerous territory,” he mutters.

You glance over your shoulder. “You're in my space.”

He tilts his head, impossibly smug. “It's my cabin.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, heart full in a way you didn’t expect to happen so quickly again.

And maybe he feels it too, because he kisses your temple again before stepping away to stir the pot.

But underneath it all is the quiet awareness of what hasn’t been said yet. The unspoken weight of your still-husband, and the fact that Seonghwa, for all his charm and sweetness, hasn’t pushed you to talk about it.

So the touches stay light. The kisses stay soft. Neither of you cross that line.

But once the dishes are done, and the fire crackles in the hearth, the cabin feels like a world of its own. 

The pool room is already warm when Seonghwa walks in, steam curling through the air in soft waves. The glow from the underwater lights dances on the ceiling, casting shifting shadows over the stone walls. He moves quietly, setting fresh towels on the bench, lighting a couple of the wall sconces to soften the ambiance. His t-shirt comes off first, then his sweats, revealing black swim trunks that hang low on his hips, and he paces a little, half-distracted as he runs a hand through his hair.

He’s calm until he hears footsteps on the stairs.

When you step into view, wrapped in a towel, his breath catches.

Your fingers grip the edge of the towel a little tighter. You hesitate. The bikini you’re wearing is simple, but it’s more skin than you’ve shown in months, more than your husband ever really looked at, anyway. There's a flicker of hesitation, a flare of insecurity rising uninvited. You almost say something to brush it off, to deflect, but then your eyes find Seonghwa.

And he’s staring.

Not in a way that makes you shrink, but in a way that freezes him in place. Your breath hitches. You glance down and away, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck, and drop the towel, stepping toward the pool. You slip into the water, letting the heat rise around your body, washing away a bit of that self-consciousness with it. Seonghwa joins you, smooth and slow, his eyes still lingering.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, voice smaller than usual, almost embarrassed.

“I know,” he says, not even blinking. “I couldn’t stop if I tried.” His gaze doesn’t flicker. It’s steady, reverent. Like you just knocked the air out of him.

You swim around a bit first, exchanging light, almost flirty conversation. It's relaxed, warm, his presence does that to you. Grounding you, calming that nervous swirl in your chest.

Then, eventually, you stop in the deeper end. You tread water in front of him, breathing just a little heavier than before. Your hands rest on his shoulders, tentative, and he lets you come closer.

Your legs slide around his waist. He catches you easily. Neither of you moves for a beat.

The water sloshes softly around you. His hands settle on your hips, anchoring you, but careful, not grabbing, not pulling. Just holding. You look at him and something in your chest flutters.

“You okay?” he asks softly, eyes scanning your face.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… haven’t worn something like this in a while. Feels weird.”

He tilts his head, fingers brushing your side gently under the water. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t answer, but you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder, enjoying how calming and safe you feel. His hands flex slightly against your hips, like it takes everything in him not to pull you closer. The tension between you simmers. Quiet, patient, but unmistakable. He smells like clean skin and chlorine, his wet hair slicked back, droplets sliding down the strong line of his neck. 

You You don’t meet his eyes at first when you speak. “Can I tell you something kinda… embarrassing?”

That gets his attention instantly. His brows lift, and he leans in slightly, voice warm and gentle. “You can tell me anything.”

You pull back to be able to look into his eyes.

“I’ve only ever been with him. My husband.” The word tastes heavy in your mouth. “I’ve never been with anyone else, and I don’t know… that feels weird to admit.”

He doesn’t flinch. He just blinks once, tilts his head a little. “It’s not weird,” he says, quieter now. “It just means you trusted someone. That’s not a bad thing.”

You bite your lip. “I guess. But now I’m here, with you, and-,” your cheeks grow hot “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know how to be good at this. What if I’m awkward? Or don’t know what you like?”

His hands squeeze lightly at your hips. “You think I’ve been touching you like this because I’m not into it?”

That makes you laugh, and he grins, leaning in just enough that his nose brushes yours. But he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

You glance down at the way your chest rises and falls in your bikini top, the water gliding over your skin. “It’s been a long time since I felt wanted like this. And it’s a little scary, to want something but not be sure how to ask for it.”

Seonghwa’s voice drops, eyes tracing the droplets clinging to your collarbone. “You’re asking just fine.”

His gaze lingers on you, openly, hungrily. His hands are still on your hips, but they inch upward just slightly, thumbs brushing the skin just under the hem of your bikini top. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to want it. The rest we’ll figure out.”

Your breath catches. “I do want something.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours again. “Yeah?”

You press your lips to his cheek. Then his jaw. Then lower, teasing a line down his throat. “I’ve been thinking…” Your voice is practically a whisper now. “It doesn’t count as sex if it’s… other stuff, right?”

He groans, head tipping back. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe,” you murmur against his skin, “but I haven’t had anything in months. You expect me to behave?”

His grip tightens at your waist, and you feel it, the slow, undeniable shift in him.

“You keep grinding on me like this,” he warns, breath uneven, “and I’m not gonna be able to play nice.”

You grind a little harder.

“Oops.”

Seonghwa growls low, then turns swiftly, your back pressing against the warm tile wall of the pool. He doesn’t kiss you right away. He just looks at your parted lips, your damp lashes, the water beading on your chest.

“You’re sure?” he breathes. “No sex. Just this?”

You nod. “Loop-hole.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, and he finally kisses you. Hungry and hot and messy in the best way. You arch into him, his hands roam freely now, one trailing down to your thigh to hold you in place, the other teasing along your side.

And then he drops lower.

He doesn’t hesitate, not even a second.

Seonghwa shifts your weight in his hands, lifting you like it’s nothing. The warm water laps at your thighs as he sets you gently on the smooth tile ledge that curves around the inner rim of the pool, half in, half out of the water. Your calves stay submerged, but the rest of you is gloriously exposed, slick with heat and nerves and want.

Your breath hitches. You’re not used to being seen like this. Vulnerable, bared, soaked in every way possible, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, hands still on your thighs, thumbs stroking gently back and forth. “You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Your fingers curl against the tile. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The second you nod, breathless, trembling, your thighs already spread for him on the edge of the tile, Seonghwa dives between your legs like he’s been dying to breathe you in. He pushes your bikini bottoms to the side and when his mouth finally meets you?

It’s filthy.

A guttural groan leaves his throat the second his tongue makes contact. Dragging through your folds like he’s savoring a rare delicacy. Deep, slow, deliberate. He doesn’t just taste you; he devours. He laps at your cunt like a man starved, tongue dipping in and out with obscene precision, like he’s memorizing every part of you by feel.

Your hands shoot to the tile behind you, head falling back against the damp stone as your thighs instinctively try to close, but Seonghwa growls and grabs your thighs with a bruising grip, holding you wide open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he rasps, voice wrecked and wet. “You gave this to me. I’m gonna take all of it.”

He buries himself in you, face pressed so deep you can barely breathe from the feeling. His nose nudges your clit, tongue sliding through your soaked heat, and he groans into you like you’re feeding something dark in him. You feel the vibration all the way through your spine.

“Fuck, Seonghwa-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, barely above a whisper. “I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, not even pausing. “You’re gonna fucking come for me, and then I’m gonna keep going. I wanna hear how beautiful you sound.”

His hands slip beneath your ass, dragging your body closer, tilting your hips so he can really taste you, and then his mouth locks on your clit.

And he doesn’t stop.

He sucks it between his lips like he’s addicted, swirling his tongue, then flattening it, then flicking fast and filthy until your legs are shaking, your moans are spilling uncontrolled, and your fingers are desperately gripping at his wet hair.

His eyes flick up to watch you come undone, and the look on his face is wild. His mouth is soaked, his jaw flexing with how hard he’s working you, but he doesn’t stop. Not when your thighs begin to tremble. Not when your voice breaks in a moan. Not even when you cum with a sob, practically screaming his name.

He pulls back slowly, lips glistening, eyes locked on you with nothing short of adoration and something far more possessive.

“That,” he pants, voice low and full of heat, “was fucking divine.”

You’re breathless, shaking, completely undone.

And he? He just smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice smug and dark as he stands in the water, towering over you. When he kisses you, it’s slow. Deep. His hand cradles the side of your face like you’re something breakable, even after what he just did to you.

You taste yourself on his tongue, but you don’t pull away.

You kiss him back harder.

Because it’s not just filthy.

It’s intimate.

“I’m lost for words.” You say, panting and trying your best to catch your breath.

He looks deep into your eyes with a smile and says; “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.” 

***

The smell of coffee drifts into the cabin bedroom before anything else.

You stretch beneath the soft duvet, your body still humming with the aftershocks of last night. Every inch of you feels different, warm, electric, awake in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. You roll over, expecting to see him there beside you, but the space is empty. Still warm.

And then you hear him in the kitchen. The low sound of a cupboard closing, a quiet curse when something clatters, the faint hum of music from his phone. It makes your heart flutter for no good reason at all, just the image of him out there, shirtless and half-awake, trying to make breakfast like it’s something you’ve always done together.

You wrap the sheets around yourself and pad out to the kitchen.

Sure enough, he’s standing by the stove in a pair of sweatpants, hair messy and damp from a quick shower, one hand stirring something in a pan while the other scrolls his phone, probably checking a recipe.

He glances up the second he senses you. And when he sees you still wrapped in his sheets, skin kissed with leftover waterline marks and sleep in your eyes, he grins. Slow, soft, too fond for someone who’s only seen you for a few weeks.

“Mmm,” he hums, eyes trailing over you. “That’s a good look on you.”

You smile, tugging the fabric a little tighter around your chest. “So is that,” you say, gesturing at the way the waistband of his pants rides low, revealing the curve of his V-line. He doesn’t even flinch at the comment, just raises an eyebrow, like he knows what he’s doing to you.

You walk over to him, slipping behind the counter and stealing a peek into the pan. “What are we making?”

“Scrambled eggs,” he says, “but I’m winging it.”

“Dangerous,” you tease. “Let me help.”

He moves aside without protest, but not without brushing against you as he does, his bare chest ghosting your shoulder, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back. 

You make the eggs while he butters the toast. At some point, he leans in to steal a kiss at your temple. It’s sweet, until his fingers skim your hip beneath the sheet, slow and deliberate. You look up at him, your breath catching. His eyes are darker now, the atmosphere suddenly thick again.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you say quietly, “and I’ll burn the eggs.”

He only smirks. “Burn them, then.”

It doesn’t matter that you’re just making breakfast. Every second feels like foreplay. Eventually, you sit together at the kitchen island, knees brushing. He makes a show of complimenting your eggs, teasing you about how domestic this all is. The whole thing feels… too good. Too easy. And you’re both very aware of it.

At one point, he leans back in his chair and studies you, like he’s committing you to memory, like he wants to trace every line of your smile and lock it away.

“You’re different today,” he murmurs, voice soft.

You shrug, suddenly shy under his gaze. “So are you.”

He reaches over, thumb brushing your cheek. “In a good way?”

“In a really good way,” you say. And you mean it.

Because even with all the heat between you, even with how badly you want to climb onto his lap and pick up where last night left off, there’s something sweeter here, too.

Like maybe this isn’t just heat. Maybe it’s something more.

The day has been blissfully quiet, a perfect mix of soft sunlight streaming through the windows and the warm, fresh air of spring. After breakfast, you and Seonghwa take a slow walk down to the lake, the tension between you two still palpable, but there's a sense of ease too. 

Later that afternoon, you played cards on the couch. He was terrible at it. Mostly because he couldn’t concentrate.

“I think you’re cheating,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I think you’re a sore loser,” you shot back, grinning.

He lunged for your cards, and you yelped, scrambling away, laughing. He tackled you into the cushions and tickled your ribs until you screamed. Then everything shifted. Suddenly he was on top of you, your legs tangled with his. His breath fanned across your lips. His hands, once playful, were now still. Firm. Intentional.

He looked down at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Then his voice dropped. “Kiss me.”

You did.

It wasn’t soft this time.

It was desperate.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, and you arched into him without thinking.

Your hips rocked.

His jaw clenched.

And just when it got too hot, when you were seconds away from completely unraveling again, you broke the kiss.

“Stop,” you whispered, breathless. “We can’t.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight. “I know. But god…”

You rolled onto your side, pulling him with you, your bodies still flush. “This is torture.”

“Sweetest kind,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder. “But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

He always knew what to say.

The cabin is warm, the fire crackling quietly as you and Seonghwa lay tangled together on the couch. His arm is around your waist, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, both of you half-asleep, breathing in sync. The quiet, the closeness, it’s almost too good to be real. You feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and slow, and let your eyes drift shut.

Until your phone buzzes against the coffee table.

You freeze for a second, not wanting to move, but Seonghwa's arm loosens slightly. His eyes stay closed. Thinking he’s still asleep, you carefully slip away and pad into the kitchen, grabbing your phone.

When you see the caller ID, your stomach twist.

Husband.

You answer anyway, voice low.  "Hey… yeah, I'm gone for the entire weekend..." You lean back against the counter, glancing over your shoulder at the couch. Seonghwa hadn’t moved. "Well, how was I supposed to know that you'd be home? You didn't tell me..." you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. Light.

Seonghwa opens his eyes, sitting up slowly. He rubs his hand over his face once before pushing himself off the couch and walking quietly toward the kitchen where he hear you talking. He stops in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

You don’t see him. You’re facing the counter, head bowed slightly, twirling the hem of your hoodie between your fingers as you talk.

"Alright... yeah... mhm..." Your voice is too polite. Too... detached.

He can tell it’s him.

Your husband.

Of course it is.

Seonghwa’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to be reminded. But he can’t tear himself away from the sight of you, standing there, trying to sound okay.

"Wait, really?" you say, surprise flickering in your tone. Seonghwa’s brow furrows. You give a soft laugh, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"No, I'd love to, I just, yeah..." Another pause. Another sigh. "Alright... okay... have fun... love you..." you say softly, out of habit more than anything else. Seonghwa’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

You hang up and stand there for a second, phone still in your hand, like you need to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you’re startled a little at the sight of him. Your mouth opens, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, but Seonghwa shakes his head lightly. No need.

You tuck your phone into your hoodie pocket and give him a weak smile. "Husband" you say, voice almost too casual.

He doesn’t move, just tilts his head, waiting.

"He... he called to tell me about the upcoming company dinner," you say. "He wants me to go with him like last year."

For a moment, Seonghwa doesn’t respond. Just blinks at you slowly, processing. You see it, how he didn’t expect that. How it threw him off.

"He does?" he finally says, his voice low, unreadable.

You nod, hugging yourself a little. "Yeah. Guess he forgot to tell me before," you joke, trying to laugh it off. "He said it’ll look good if I’m there."

Seonghwa’s heart twisted.

Look good.

Not because he misses you. Not because he wants to share the evening with you. Because it will look good.

"She’s coming too, I’m imagining" you add, tossing it out like it doesn’t matter that your husband’s girlfriend would be in the same room as you. Like it doesn’t tear something inside you open.

Seonghwa’s jaw ticked.

You hurry to fill the silence. "It’s fine. I mean-, it’s not like I didn’t expect it, right? It's just a dinner. No big deal."

But it is a big deal. And you’re a terrible liar.

You keep rambling. "Honestly, it’s probably good. It might make it easier, or whatever. Seeing them in the same room together, maybe it’ll help me... you know, feel better about everything." Your laugh cracks at the edges. You tuck your hair behind your ear, blinking hard. A moment of silence spread between you, letting you mind do horrible things to you. “Can I ask you a question?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

His voice is soft, warm with understanding. “Always.”

You don’t mean to ask it, but it slips out anyway. “Do they look good together?”

Even Seonghwa seems caught off guard. He doesn’t answer, not with words. But the way his expression falters, the way his eyes search yours… it’s enough.

Regret hits instantly. You let out a dry laugh and shake your head. “Right. Stupid question. You can’t answer that.”

You rub your hand down your face, trying to gather yourself, trying to make it easier by asking again, differently. “Do they… act like a couple at work?”

He hesitates. Thinking. Choosing words that won’t hurt more than they have to.

“Not at first,” he says, his voice measured, careful. “It was… gradual. The kind of closeness people notice but don’t talk about.”

You exhale, eyes closing.

“I didn’t want to assume anything in the beginning,” he continues. “She’s friendly with a lot of people. And I try not to get involved in anything that doesn’t concern work.”

You nod. “But it was obvious.”

He pauses. “Enough that I… thought he might’ve been single.”

Something sinks inside you, cold and heavy.

“No ring. No mention of you. He brought her to a few events at work. I didn’t ask questions.”

You swallow, not sure what hurts more. The confirmation, that he doesn’t wear his ring outside anymore or the fact that it makes sense. Of course he would act single at work. That’s part of his charm.

Seonghwa’s expression is gentle, eyes scanning yours like he’s checking for fractures he can’t see.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t want to upset you. If this is too much-”

“No,” you interrupt, voice thin. “I asked. I want to know. I need to.” You stand in silence for a beat, and then you murmur with a broken smile, “But it’s fine. It’s all fine.”

"You don't have to pretend with me," Seonghwa murmured.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Trying not to let the kindness in his voice shatter you completely.

"I'm fine," you whispered.

Seonghwa watches you from across the kitchen. You’re smiling, but he knows better. He sees the way your shoulders curl inward, the way your eyes won’t quite meet his.

"You’re not," he says, just as soft. "And that’s okay."

You glance up, startled, but before you can form a response, he moves toward you, not fast, not forceful, just steady. His hands find your hips with gentle certainty, and he lifts you with ease, setting you down on the counter as if you’re something precious, not breakable.

"Seonghwa-" you start, breathless.

But he’s already there, grounding you. One hand settles gently on your thigh, the other brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His forehead touches yours, and he just breathes with you for a moment. He stays close but doesn’t move further. His forehead drops lightly to yours, his palms warm against your thighs.

"Look at me," he says, voice low, like he’s scared to spook you. His voice is soft but sure. "I don’t want you pretending you’re fine around me." He leans in. "You feel whatever you need to feel," he murmur, voice thick with emotion, “I’m here. I’ll hold you through it. For as long as it takes.”

Your fingers tremble as they clutch at the fabric of his shirt. Your voice is just a whisper. “I don’t want to fall apart.”

“Then don’t,” he says gently. “Just lean. I’ll catch the rest.”

You make a soft, broken sound before you can stop yourself. He kisses you, slow, deep, devastating. Not just because he wants you. Because he adores you.

He breaks the kiss only to press a featherlight one to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last, reverent, like he’s tracing the pieces of you he’s afraid might slip away.

"You want me to take your mind off it?" His mouth brushes just beneath your ear, not suggestive, not rushed, just offering.

You blink at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Only if you want to," he murmurs. "Only if you need it."

You nod before you could second-guess yourself, fingers curling into his shirt.

"I want you," you breathe.

Relief floods his features, softening the tension in his jaw. He kisses you like he had all the time in the world to love every part of you. His hands slide up your sides, mapping you like a man learning his favorite song by heart. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jawline, the shell of your ear, soft, worshipful kisses that leave your skin burning.

"You’re everything," he whispers, pressing his lips to your throat. "You don't even see it, do you?" He kisses a path lower, murmuring against your skin, his hands skimming down your sides to the waistband of your leggings.

He pauses, looking up at you again.

You nod, heart hammering.

Slowly, carefully, he peels them down, helping you kick them away. His palms roams back up your bare thighs, rough and warm.

His fingers trace along the seam of your underwear, teasing the edges, making you squirm. He drags a single finger up the center. Slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of you through the fabric.

"So fucking soft," he mutters under his breath, almost reverent. When he finally eases your panties to the side and slid two fingers through your folds, he curses under his breath. "Fuck," he groans, forehead falling against your shoulder. "You’re gonna ruin me."

He kisses your throat, your collarbone, the dip of your neck, worshiping every inch of you while his fingers find your clit, stroking it slowly and carefully. Drawing circles, light and teasing at first, just to feel you shake.

You whimper, your hips jerking toward his hand, desperate for more.

He smiles against your skin.

"Patience, my love," he whispers. "I wanna savor you." 

A slow, steady glide of his fingers, spreading your wetness, pressing a little deeper. You whimper, hips twitching, and he kisses you again, swallowing every sound like he can’t get enough of you. One finger slides inside you, stretching you deliciously, the heel of his hand rubbing steady against your clit. He moves carefully, gently, but there is a hunger beneath it.

"You have no idea how good you feel," he whispers against your throat, his voice breaking.

Another finger presses in, a little rougher this time, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, and he kisses it, swallowing every sound. He starts a slow rhythm, steady, deliberate thrusts of his fingers, curling just right, dragging sweet friction along your walls. The wet sounds fill the kitchen, obscene and beautiful.

Your head drops back, a soft moan escaping you, and he kisses your throat, licks at your pulse, holding you steady as your body starts to tremble. His fingers work deeper, faster, rougher but never cruel, like he wanted to drag every ounce of pleasure from you, like he needed to prove to you what you deserved.

You whimper, rolling your hips into his hand. He groans low in his throat, as if the pleasure you’re feeling feeds his own.

"That's it," he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheek, your temple. "Take what you need, baby. I’m right here."

He presses his thumb against your clit again, this time firmer, drawing slow, perfect circles as his fingers thrust deeper inside you. Your hands clutches at his shoulders, digging into his muscles, and he lets out a low moan, loving the way you hold onto him.

"That’s it," he says, kissing your ear. "Let go for me, baby. Give it to me."

You can’t hold it anymore. When he angles his fingers just a little differently, brushing against that devastating spot inside you, it breaks you.

Your orgasm builds like a tidal wave, overwhelming and sharp, and when it finally hits, you sob his name, shaking violently against him. He keeps fucking you with his fingers, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body, kissing you desperately the whole time.

"You’re fucking perfect," he whispers between kisses, voice raw with it.

He slowly eases his fingers out of you, kissing you breathless while his hands smoothed up and down your thighs to soothe the tremors. He doesn’t rush it, doesn’t push for anything more.

He just kisses you, adores you, holds you like you were the only thing in his world. "You’re mine here," he murmurs, voice rough, mouth hot against your skin. "Only mine."

The world outside the cabin didn’t exist anymore. No husband. No company dinner. No expectations. Just Seonghwa, tasting you, touching you, worshiping you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

And you can’t get enough of him.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of soft touches and easy laughter. You don’t talk about anything serious, don’t need to. Instead, you lounge together on the couch, stealing lazy kisses. You walk barefoot through the woods behind the cabin, the air fresh and cool, your hand tucked tightly into his. When night falls, you both end up tangled under a blanket by the fire, the room warm and golden, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Eventually, sleep starts pulling at you.

"Come on," he murmurs against your hair. "Bedtime."

You let him lead you to the bedroom, too tired and too comfortable to protest. You don’t even bother changing, you just collapse onto the bed, pulling the covers up with a small, content sigh. Seonghwa climbs in beside you, and the moment you feel the mattress dip under his weight, you shift closer instinctively, pressing your body against his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin.

He wraps his arms around you tightly (maybe tighter than he should have) but you only sigh again, relaxed and trusting in his hold. And within minutes, you’re asleep.

But Seonghwa isn’t.

He stays awake, eyes tracing the shape of your face in the dim moonlight seeping through the window. You look so soft, so beautiful, your mouth slightly parted, your brow relaxed. You have no idea. No idea what you’re doing to him. How badly he want to freeze this moment, to stay like this forever.

His fingers brush your back slowly, barely there, memorizing the feel of you. He can smell your shampoo, the faint sweetness of your skin.

You aren’t his. You’re married. Tied to a life he can’t touch, no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to steal you away, keep you tucked against him like this, safe and warm, without the weight of your sadness, without the ache of your pretending.

But he can’t.

He isn’t your husband. He isn’t your first choice. Maybe he will never be.

So he just holds you closer, selfishly. Just for tonight.

He whispers your name against your hair, so quietly you can’t hear it. He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger far longer than he should have.

And when his chest tightens painfully with everything he can’t say, he closes his eyes and buries his face in your hair, breathing you in like he can keep a part of you with him, even when you eventually slip away.

Because deep down, Seonghwa already knows: You aren’t his to keep.

But he would love you. Quietly, carefully, hopelessly, for as long as he’s allowed.

***

Real life came back like a wave crashing onto the sand. By Monday morning, the cabin already felt like a dream. Something you both clung to a little too long before the world tugged it from your fingers. There were alarms again. Meetings. Responsibilities. But still, he stayed. In every little way he could.

The following week became a quiet dance of stolen moments. Texts during the day, sometimes silly, sometimes tender. Late-night calls that stretched until one of you fell asleep mid-sentence. A few visits squeezed between everything else, a lunch together, a surprise appearance at your door when you least expected it. You lived in your separate worlds, but threads kept tying you back together, weaving something stronger, even if neither of you dared name it yet.

It’s Thursday afternoon when Seonghwa shows up at your work, two iced coffees in hand. He didn’t tell you he was coming. He just wants to see you.

Standing in the lobby, he catches a sight of you through the glass doors. You’re at the front desk, clipboard in hand, speaking to a group of junior employees. Except you aren’t just speaking. You’re commanding - calm, polite, but firm enough that everyone was standing straighter under your gaze.

"No, the Peterson file needs to be signed by the end of day, not tomorrow," you say firmly to one employee, then turn to another. "And double-check the Johnson numbers. I’m not sending anything out with mistakes." There’s no edge to your voice, just clear, confident authority. You’re the kind of person who expects things to get done right, and people respect you for it.

The group nodded quickly before scurrying off. You look completely in control, completely at ease, and it hits Seonghwa in a way he isn’t prepared for.

He shifts his weight, adjusting the cups in his hands, feeling the low, slow burn start in his stomach. Watching you like this; confident, a little strict, completely unbothered. It made something hot and possessive stir in his chest.

Fuck, he thought, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Finally, you notice him. You turn, blinking in surprise before your face lights up in a smile.

You cross the floor towards him, walk through the glass doors, your expression softening in a way that made it even harder for him to stay composed. "You," you say, stopping in front of him, a breathless little laugh escaping, "are not supposed to be here."

"Couldn't help myself," he says, offering you one of the coffees. His fingers brush yours, and it’s ridiculous how much even that made his chest tighten. "You looked like you needed rescuing."

You laugh again, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. "Thanks," you say, sipping your drink with a low, satisfied sigh that just about broke him. "Seriously. Today’s been hell."

He stares at you for a second longer than necessary. "You’re killing it, though. Watching you just now..." He lets the words trail off, his voice dipping a little lower, his eyes dragging down to your mouth before flicking back up. "You’re very…" His voice trails off, then he gives a quiet chuckle. "Efficient."

But the way he says it, the way his jaw tightens just slightly, makes it very clear that isn’t the word he is thinking.

You cock your head innocently. "You okay there?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "I'm fine. Perfect." Only he doesn’t look perfect at all. 

And you definitely notice.

You sip your coffee, pretending not to see the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long. You smile sweetly. "You sure? You look a little… tense."

His mouth twitches, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. But he only hums low in his throat and says, "Busy morning." His hand tightens around his own cup for a second before he quickly hides it behind a sip.

You turn and walk away, tossing a look over your shoulder like a lure. And sure enough, Seonghwa follows. He catches up to you just as you slip through a doorway into a smaller side room, deserted this time of day.

"You shouldn't," he says, shutting the door behind him.

"Shouldn't what?" you ask, wide-eyed and fake-innocent.

"Shouldn’t look at me like that." His voice is already cracking at the edges, walking slowly towards you with dark eyes. "Shouldn't tempt me when you know exactly what you're doing."

You shrug, looking up at him like he’s speaking nonsense. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." you whisper, all wide eyes and fake innocence. You lean up, slightly tip-toeing to place the softest kiss on his lips, barely even touching him.

You smile against his mouth, slow and deliberate, feeling how tense every muscle in his body is like he’s fighting an invisible war.

“Poor thing,” you whisper teasingly, dragging your fingers lightly up his chest, feeling the way his heart slams against his ribs. “You looked so composed out there. All that self-control…”

Seonghwa lets out a low, broken sound when you roll your hips slowly against him, barely brushing where he’s hardest. His head falls back in agony, but he doesn’t touch you yet. Can’t. If he did, he knows he’d lose it.

“Don’t test me,” he grounds out, voice a low warning, but there’s no real threat behind it. Only desperation.

His breath hitches hard, his hands finally snapping up to catch your wrists and pin them lightly against the wall above your head, firm, not rough. 

His mouth crashes into yours, messy and starving, hands still holding your wrists pinned. Every movement is frantic and tender all at once, like he’s trying to show you what you do to him without crossing the line.

But somehow, he pulls back. Chest heaving. Heart pounding.

"I can't," he whispers, like it physically hurts him. "You deserve better than me losing my mind over you in some office." Seonghwa lets go of your wrists and brushes your hair back, his hands gentle now, lingering, almost reverent.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he whispers, finally pulling back just enough to look at you properly. "I should…" he starts, voice hoarse, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I should get back soon. I have some meetings to prepare for."

You nod, pretending to sip your coffee again, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering against your ribs.

“So... the company dinner is on Saturday,” you say, your voice casual, but he could sense the slight tension behind your words. “I guess I’ll see you there.”

His lips quirkes in a soft smile, but his eyes stay gentle. "Yeah, I’ll see you there." He pauses for a moment, letting the silence linger between you two, before he adds, "But, I know it’s not going to be easy for you. I’ll be here, it’s up to you when you need me, yeah?”

You nod, the simple reassurance settling somewhere deep inside. 

“You’ll handle it like you always do,” he says, his voice almost like a promise. “Just…” He pauses, his words weighing a little heavier now. “If you need to talk or vent or even just distract yourself, I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to lean into them, feeling that small spark of comfort. But you also knew that Saturday will come with its own set of challenges, ones neither of you can ignore.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Seonghwa hesitates before a small smile plays on his lips. “Can’t wait to see you.” He leaves a soft kiss on your lips before you both leave the room.

Seonghwa steps out of the building, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as the cool spring air hits him. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head, but all he can see is the way you looked at him in that small room. The way your eyes darkened, how your lips parted ever so slightly like you were daring him to lose control.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the weekend. Saturday was going to be fucking torture.

Seonghwa steps into the elevator, the cold glass walls reflecting his composed expression as the doors close with a soft chime. As the elevator descends, the doors suddenly open on the floor above, and in walks your husband. 

The man who had promised to love and protect you, who had chosen to disregard you for the company of another woman. Seonghwa’s jaw tightens. 

He could see right through your husband and his intentions. Why he wanted to open up your marriage. Why he convinced you seeing other people was a good idea. He was doing this for no one but himself. He didn’t care about your future together, he just wanted to screw around without feeling guilty.

Your husband’s smile is too wide, a little too confident.

"Mr. Park," your husband says, his smile a little too smug for Seonghwa’s liking. "It’s been a while."

Seonghwa nods curtly, his lips twisting into a polite, controlled smile. "Yes, it has."

The elevator jolts briefly as it continues its descent, and Seonghwa can feel the tension building between them, unspoken but thick in the air. Your husband isn’t aware, of course. He’s too wrapped up in his own world, too comfortable in his position.

"Have you been well lately?" the husband says, his voice slightly offhand but probing. "I haven’t seen you much."

Seonghwa can’t help but smirk. He can’t help but think of the way you call his name so desperately, the way your body responds to his every touch. 

Instead of responding directly to that comment, Seonghwa lets a small, knowing smile flicker across his lips. "I’ve been preoccupied," he says smoothly, his voice low. "Had a lot on my hands."

The elevator jerks slightly, making the conversation shift just a little. 

With a cool smile, Seonghwa turns toward him, his tone dripping with polite curiosity. “So, are you bringing your wife to the company dinner on Saturday?”

Your husband looks at him with a raised brow, clearly not realizing how pointed the question is. “Of course, I think she could use some time out of the house,” He gives a smug little chuckle, clearly feeling proud of himself. “My wife’s always at home,” he repeats like it was some inside joke. “I think I owe her to spend some time with her..”

Seonghwa fights back the grimace forming on his face. The way your husband speaks about you like a joke, a thing to be handled or dealt with. Seonghwa can’t stand it. 

He takes a deep breath, his hands casually resting at his sides as he turns his gaze back toward your husband, locking eyes. “Right,” Seonghwa says, his voice steady, controlled, almost too polite. “I’m sure she’ll be a sight to see.”

As the elevator doors open to Seonghwa’s floor, he takes one last glance at your husband. “I’ll see you at the dinner,” Seonghwa says, his words cold, his expression cool as he steps out.

The husband nods. “See you then, Mr. Park.”

But as the elevator doors closed behind him, Seonghwa’s mind was already back on you. On how you moan his name in the quiet of the cabin, how you came undone beneath his touch. He wonders if your husband has ever been able to make you feel that way.

Seonghwa knew the answer.

***

The ballroom is already alive with chatter and the clink of glasses when you arrive. You hold onto your husband's arm, letting him guide you through the doors, even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.

The room is elegant, bathed in warm lights that bounced off the champagne flutes and silverware. Laughter rises from different corners, easy and polished. You pass on your best smile, falling into the practiced rhythm of it all.

You mingle for a while, polite small talk with your husband's coworkers, nodding along as he introduces you around. It’s almost easy, almost. You let him guide you in, your heels clicking over the marble floors, the soft hum of chatter rising around you like a tide.

You smile easily when necessary, playing your part, his polished, perfect wife. But the second you feel a shift in the air, you know. You don’t have to look to know Seonghwa has arrived.

When you finally let yourself look, there he is. Seonghwa moves through the crowd like he owns it. His black suit is perfectly tailored, the crisp white shirt underneath open just enough at the collar to suggest he isn’t as buttoned-up as he pretends to be. His hair, artfully tousled, is just messy enough to hint at how easily he can come undone.

Your breath stutters. He’s all sharp lines and quiet fire, heartbreakingly beautiful, dangerous in the best way.

You watch him, barely breathing, as he slips through clusters of people, smiling, exchanging greetings. Until his eyes finds yours.

A second, no more. But it’s enough.

Heat licks up your spine.

You look away first, pretending to adjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, willing the blush crawling up your neck to stay hidden. It doesn’t matter. You can still feel him watching you.

You mingle for a few more minutes, caught in some lazy conversation about vacation homes and quarterly reports, when you feel another ripple, closer now. 

Seonghwa is joining your circle.

"Mr. Park!" one of the men says warmly, reaching to clap him on the back. "Glad you made it."

Seonghwa offers a practiced smile, but when his gaze slides briefly to you again, it softens. Just a fraction, before he tucks it away.

Professional. Perfect. Lethal.

Your husband, oblivious, tugs you a little closer against his side, his hand slips familiarly over your hip.

"Babe," he says, smiling, "you remember my boss, Park Seonghwa?"

You turn, offering a smile so polite it feels like a mask. "Of course," you say lightly, extending your hand. "We met at last year’s dinner."

Seonghwa’s fingers close around yours, warm and steady. But his thumb drifts, just barely, over your knuckles. It’s the softest touch, fleeting enough to pass for nothing.

But you feel it. And he knows you do.

"I remember," he says, voice even, with just the faintest undertone that makes something low in your belly tighten. “Nice to see you again.”

He steps back politely, turning to engage someone else in conversation, and you pretend to listen in as well, nodding where appropriate. It’s almost effortless, this performance you’ve both slipped into, two people with nothing in common but a forgettable introduction at a company event. Except for the way your body is suddenly too aware of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne. The way his shoulder moves when he shifts. The tiniest curve of a smile when he senses you glance his way.

You try to be distant. Be in the moment with your husband. View Seonghwa as a polite acquaintance. But your skin tingles. Your body betrays you.

Because when you're alone with Seonghwa, there's nothing careful about him. When it’s just the two of you, he doesn’t look at you like this, distant, indifferent. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists. His hands aren’t steady and restrained; they’re greedy, reverent. When he touches you, it’s with purpose, with heat, with worship. He traces your collarbone with his mouth like it's a map he’s memorized. He drags his lips down your spine like he’s praying. His voice isn't calm then. It's wrecked. Raw. And it’s only for you.

The memory makes your thighs shift, pressing together subtly. You blink yourself back to the moment as he turns away to greet someone else, perfectly composed. A phantom smile plays at his lips like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Then your husband shifts beside you again, dragging you in closer, thumb making small, familiar circles against your hip. Your spine straightens slightly, not from discomfort, but from how sharply aware you are of Seonghwa’s eyes flickering in your direction. Just for a second. Controlled, unreadable. But you know him now, too well, and you catch the subtle set of his jaw, the way his breath comes slower, steadier, like he’s keeping something under control.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react. He nods at the right times, smiles when expected. But there’s something charged beneath his calm exterior. A restraint that hums quietly under every breath you both take.

No one else notices. But you do. And he knows you do.

You barely survived the first ten minutes. And the night had only just begun. 

You and your husband move through the crowd, chatting idly with some of his colleagues. It's polite, surface-level stuff, nothing that makes your heart beat faster. Your eyes keep darting to Seonghwa, who is now across the room, talking to a group of people. But it's your husband who finally draws your attention back to the situation at hand.

His voice breaks through your thoughts, an edge of casualness you don’t quite trust.

“Oh, and this is… well, you probably know her already.” He gestures towards the woman beside him, who flashes a smile that you can’t help but feel is too bright, too rehearsed.

Her. His girlfriend.

Your husband’s words hover in the air, unspoken but clear, as though it’s just a natural thing. "My girlfriend". But he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand. He doesn’t need to make it official when the meaning is already obvious in his tone, the way his hand rests a little too possessively on her lower back.

She’s taller, prettier than you would have imagined, and the first thing you notice is the way she’s looking at him. The adoration, the way her eyes soften. You feel a tug in your chest, a quiet pain that you try to ignore. But it’s there. It’s always there.

She extends a hand, and you take it, forcing a smile. "Nice to meet you." you say.

Her grip is firm. She’s confident. She’s everything your husband seems to want right now.

"Of course. I’ve heard so much about you," she says, the words warm, but the slight edge makes your stomach churn. She looks at your husband with a teasing glint in her eye, but you notice how her gaze flickers toward you, assessing.

As they stand there, chatting, you feel the smallest stir of discomfort in your chest. You want to look away, but you can’t. And maybe you’re just imagining it, but it feels like Seonghwa is watching you from across the room, his eyes fixed on you like he can sense the unease in the air.

Just as you're lost in the tension building between you, a voice calls out from behind. It's one of your husband's colleagues, reminding everyone to take their seats for dinner. As you take your seat, you instinctively glance around, seeking any form of solace in the crowd. And then, your phone buzzes in your bag, breaking through the fog of discomfort in an instant.

You glance down at the screen, your heart skipping a beat when you see the familiar name.

Seonghwa: Are you okay?

The simplicity of his message stirs something in you. Just seeing those words, knowing he's thinking of you, makes the tightness in your chest ease, just for a moment. You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest, but you can't help but smile at the message.

You: I'm fine. Just a little distracted.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. There’s a part of you that wishes you could confide more, tell him exactly what’s running through your mind, but you hold back, not wanting to let everything spill out in a text.

Just as you're about to lock your phone and tuck it away, the screen flashes with a new message from him.

Seonghwa: I’m here if you need me. Don’t forget that. ❤️

Seonghwa isn’t placed near you. Of course not. He is several tables over, seated with executives and higher-ups. But you can feel him. God, you can feel him across the room like a second heartbeat.

You catch his eyes once, mid-conversation, and it’s like the air thickens between you. His gaze dips for a split second, dragging over you before lifting again, back to his polished, unreadable facade.

You quickly look away, cheeks burning.

Dinner is served. Conversation at your table buzzing with casual energy: talk about vacations, investment portfolios, harmless gossip about coworkers. Your husband is in his element, laughing too loud, talking to a specific woman close to him and pouring more wine into his glass than he probably should.

Meanwhile, you barely hear a word.

You pick at your food, your appetite gone. Across the room, you feel the weight of his stare.

When you risk another glance, he’s watching you again. His fingers drumming lightly against the side of his glass, a slow, restless rhythm. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip as he listens to the person next to him, eyes still locked on you.

Your husband nudges you, laughing about something you hadn’t caught. You give a small, polite smile, pretending to sip your wine.

The night drags on. Courses are served. Toasts are made. The CEO stands up to make a long speech about company growth, partnership, community, all the usual talking points. You clap when appropriate. You smile when you should. But the only thing you feel is the pull.

The memory of Seonghwa. The way he looks at you across the room like he’s already planning exactly how he’d have you again the moment he can. You toy with the stem of your wineglass, letting yourself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like to slip away from this table, to find him in some quiet corner, to let him catch you.

When dessert was finally cleared and the crowd began to loosen with alcohol and relief, you catch Seonghwa rising from his table, jacket slinging lazily over one shoulder as he excused himself.

He gives you a glance. A very telling glance.

You know. You know he is giving you the chance to follow.

Your heart hammers wildly against your ribs. Your husband is mid-conversation with someone else, not even glancing your way. You set your napkin down on the table, slow and careful, pretending to smooth your dress as you stand.

You move carefully, pretending to head toward the restrooms like you had a dozen other times at events like this. No one pays you any mind. Not even your husband, still busy with a drink in his hand and a story on his lips.

But you aren’t going to the restroom.

You slip through the crowd, heart thudding so hard you can barely hear the noise around you. Your heels click softly against the polished floors as you follow the path Seonghwa has taken. Down a quiet hall. Past the coat closet. Around a corner, where the light dimmed and the buzz of the party fades into the background.

And there he is.

Waiting. Like he knew you would come to him.

He stands with his jacket slung over one shoulder, dress shirt immaculate, tie slightly loosened at the throat like he’s only barely containing himself. But it’s his eyes that stops you.

Dark. Starving. Fixed entirely, absolutely, on you.

God, the way he looks at you.

Like you’re some kind of forbidden miracle.

You can see his throat work as he swallows hard, his hand tightening slightly on the jacket. His gaze trails down your body like he couldn’t help it. From your shining eyes to your lips, to the delicate line of your neck, the curve of your waist in that dress that fit you like a secret made just for him.

“You’re too beautiful,” Seonghwa says under his breath, almost like it hurts him. 

You step closer, heart hammering against your ribs.

"You shouldn't have left," you whisper.

He gives a low, ragged laugh. "And you shouldn't have followed."

Finally talking to him after hours of pretending, after meeting your husband's girlfriend, you finally feet like you can breathe. 

A door clicks somewhere nearby and you’re startled. Seonghwa reacts faster, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the nearest door. The small conference room is empty, dim, quiet except for your heavy breathing. He closes the door behind you both, and you stand frozen in the center of the room, trembling, watching the muscles flex in his jaw.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, voice rough, almost pained.

Slowly, Seonghwa pushes off the door and approaches you, each step measured but strained, like he’s holding himself back with everything he has.

You lifted your chin slightly, daring him. You can feel it, feel the moment his control cracks. One hand reached up, brushing a lock of hair from your face with agonizing care. His fingers trail down the side of your throat, featherlight, barely touching. You shiver.

"You look like this..." His voice broke. "And you expect me to walk away?"

You smile, sweet and dangerous, tilting your head so his fingers could touch more.

It wrecks him.

With a growl low in his chest, Seonghwa cups your face and kisses you, finally. The kiss hungry and aching and furious all at once. Your hands clutch at his shirt, feeling the hard line of his chest beneath. His hips pins you against the conference table behind you, but he still keeps it controlled. Barely.

He kisses down your jaw, the column of your neck, breathing hard.

"Say the word," he rasp into your skin. "Tell me to stop."

You don’t.

You whimper instead and his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you easily onto the heavy table in the center of the room. The second you’re perched on the edge, he stepped between your spread legs, crowding into your space.

You cling to him, kissing him back with just as much desperation. But then you feel it: the thick, heavy press of him against your thigh, straining against his pants. You pull back just enough to look down.

The outline of him is huge and thick and impossibly hard, the shape of his cock straining at the zipper. So tempting it made your mouth go dry. You stare for a heartbeat too long, your breath catching. 

"Sweetheart," he breathes, almost warningly, but you lift your hand before he can stop you and palms him through his pants. Seonghwa chokes on a moan.

"You're so hard," you whisper, in awe. "You always take care of me," you say softly, your hand stroking him slowly, feeling how big, how impossibly hard he is for you. 

"Fuck," he groans, hips jerking slightly into your hand before he catches himself, caging you against the table with his body. "You're going to kill me."

You smile a little, emboldened by how wrecked he sounds, and kiss the side of his head tenderly.

"Let me make you feel good," you murmur against his hairline.

For a moment, it seems like he might resist, like he might be too strong. But then your fingers give a slightly firmer stroke, and Seonghwa whimpers against your throat, a raw, broken sound he can’t hold back.

You slide the zipper down carefully and push his pants down just enough.

Your breath hitches.

Seonghwa is thick, his cock straining hard against the black fabric of his briefs. A wet patch already darkening the front where he’s leaking for you.

You brush your knuckles up the length of him, feeling how hot and real he is under the thin barrier. Seonghwa’s head tips back, his throat working around a broken moan. Emboldened, aching for him, you slide your fingers under the waistband and free him. His cock springs out into your hand. Flushed deep red at the tip, thick veins running down the heavy shaft, already leaking beads of clear precum that drips onto your fingers.

You barely manage to wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick your fingers don’t even meet. Seonghwa curses under his breath, his hips twitching forward into your hand.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "look what you do to me."

You give a shy, wicked smile and stroke him slowly from base to tip, feeling the way he jerks in your palm. So sensitive, so desperate.

But you want more than just to touch him. You shift on the table, spreading your thighs wider.

The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. Your panties completely soaked, sticking to every contour of your cunt, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Slowly, deliberately, you use the head of his cock to brush against your clothed folds. He hiss between his teeth as you guide him, dragging the swollen tip up and down your slit, the slick heat of you soaking through the thin barrier of lace. The contrast of the rough, leaking tip against your swollen clit made you gasp, hips bucking up into him.

Seonghwa's fingers dug into the table, muscles straining, trying so hard not to just lose control and shove into you. 

"You’re so fucking wet," he groan, his voice wrecked. "I can feel it through the fabric. God, you’re ready for me, aren’t you, my love?"

You nod, breathless, rocking your hips forward so his cock slid along the seam of your panties, right over your aching clit. Every pass made your head spin.

And then, without warning, he shifts his hips, pressing the swollen head of his cock right against your entrance.

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders.

He pushes forward just a fraction, just enough to feel the desperate clench of your body trying to pull him in, but the soaked fabric of your panties holds him back, stopping him from sinking inside. It’s so hot, so thick, stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before, and he hasn’t even really entered yet.

"Fuck," he whispers harshly, grinding himself against your entrance with slow, dangerous rolls of his hips. "You’re gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

Your panties stretched taut between you, the thin barrier rubbing against your clit, your folds, trapping the thick heat of him perfectly against your neediest parts.

"You want me to tear these off and fuck you right now, don't you?" he rasp, voice wrecked with restraint. "God, I could just push a little harder, you'd open up for me so easily."

As if to prove it, he gave a slow, brutal grind of his hips, pushing the thick, leaking head of his cock right against your entrance. So firm, so hot, you could feel yourself clenching down around nothing as you moan.

"Feel that?" he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing your skin. "One more inch, baby. One fucking inch, and I'd be inside you. Filling you so deep."

You sob his name, grinding helplessly against him, the rough drag of his cock against your panties and your throbbing clit driving you insane.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly, drunk on the sight of you falling apart for him. "You like teasing yourself with it, don't you? Feel how fucking hard I am for you?"

He rocks his hips again, pressing his entire length against you, up and down, letting the thick vein along his shaft rub right over your most sensitive spot. 

"You're gonna cum just like this, aren't you?" he whispered roughly.

Seonghwa groans, thrusting against you with a little more force, letting the fat tip of his cock push the fabric deep between your folds, rubbing, pressing, teasing your clit. He pressed the tip of his cock against your panties again, and this time, he hooked a finger under the soaked fabric, dragging it aside.

You gasped, because now there was nothing between you.

Seonghwa’s cock slid along your bare, dripping folds, dragging over your clit with slow, devastating precision.

But the angle, the filthy rub of him dragging along your clit, your folds, almost pushing inside. It was dangerous. It would take nothing, nothing, for him to slam forward and bury himself balls-deep inside you.

"God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good," he growled, rubbing the swollen, leaking head of his cock directly against your clit in slow, devastating circles. "I could just, fuck-, I could slide inside you so easy right now. Fill you up so deep you'd feel me for days." 

Your thighs tremble on either side of him. He moves his hips, grinding his cockhead against your clit, dragging it up and down, side to side, filthy and raw.

"You want that, don’t you?" he whispers harshly. "You want me to split you open on this fucking table?"

But you knew you couldn’t let it happen like this. You were already dangerously close to crossing every line. You whimper, grabbing the edge of the table to stay upright, hips bucking helplessly.

"That's it," Seonghwa growles, voice dark and hungry, his cock dragging sloppily against you. "Grind on me, baby. Rub that pretty little pussy on my cock. Fuck, you feel so good."

Your thighs are trembling, muscles locking up as the rough head of him keeps hitting your clit perfectly, again and again, the thick veins of his shaft dragging over your folds, your entrance.

The noises between you are filthy, slick, messy, obscene.

You gasp, trying to pull away, scared to come and make a mess, make too much noice from this room, but Seonghwa grabs your hips and pins you against him, forcing you to take every devastating drag of his cock.

"Don't fucking run from it," he hisses against your ear. "Take it. I want you to come all over my cock, baby."

Your body locked up, and with a strangled moan, you came, hard and messy, soaking him, soaking your panties, soaking the fucking table. You cry out, clenching around nothing, hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm rip through you.

"That's it," he murmur, watching you fall apart. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me." Seonghwa hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching against you.

"You look so fucking beautiful when you cum," he buries his face against your neck, trembling with restraint. You can feel how close he is, his cock throbbing, his breathing ragged, his hips jerking forward in little, helpless thrusts against your slick center.

But then, you feel it.

The wet heat gathering against your panties, dangerously close to making a mess neither of you would be able to explain. Panic flares, but so does something brave, bold, utterly wicked inside you. Before Seonghwa can react, you slide off the table and drop to your knees in front of him.

"Fuck-, baby, what are you-"

He chokes on his words as you wrap your hand around him, guiding his slick, throbbing cock to your mouth. Seonghwa slaps a hand against the table, a broken, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as you close your lips around him.

"Jesus-, fuck," he gasp, his whole body trembling violently.

You look up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks around him, and the sight makes him come undone. With a low, guttural groan, Seonghwa spills into your mouth, hot and salty and desperate. You swallow every drop.

When you finally let him go with a soft pop, Seonghwa stares down at you, eyes black with lust, lips parted, chest heaving. 

Seonghwa watches you straighten up, his gaze flicking to your lips as you wipe them, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. There’s a spark of admiration in his eyes, mixed with something darker that he can’t hide.

“Wow, ” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his voice rough with a hint of surprise. He takes a step closer, his tone softer but no less impressed. “That was… hot.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingers on you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he notices your slightly flushed cheeks, the warmth of the moment still hanging in the air. He could hardly believe how effortlessly you turned everything around, and the look of awe in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

Without saying another word, he cups your face gently, his thumb brushing over your lips as if he can’t resist. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened. Slowly, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. The kiss is a promise, an unspoken understanding that this isn’t over, that there’s so much more to explore between the two of you.

As he pulls away just enough to look at you, he whispers, “Thank God for loopholes.” He pulls back, his eyes lingering on you with admiration, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“I’m gonna tell him tomorrow,” You say, finally being ready to tell your husband about you dating Seonghwa, his boss, knowing he’ll be home then. “I’m going to tell my husband about you,” you say, softer now. “About us.”

You don’t say why. You don’t need to. Because you both know why you’ve been holding back saying it, and you both know how desperate you both are to get the truth out.

He nods once. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit with a strained smile. “But I don’t want to keep hiding this anymore when he flashes his relationship in front of me,” you look at him through your lashes. “And I don’t want to hold back from you anymore.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something that feels like awe.

Still, the fear bubbles up in you. “What if he reacts badly? What if he says something at work? I don’t want to ruin things for you…” Your voice cracks at the end, and you look away. But he doesn’t let you.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Seonghwa says quietly. “Let him talk. Let him try.”  

You huff a tiny laugh, but your eyes sting.

“I’m serious,” he says, voice gentler. “If he wants to make it ugly, I’ll deal with it. But I’d rather deal with that than watch you shrink yourself to protect me.”

You bite your lip.

“If he suggests you have an open relationship, then he has to understand the consequences of it,” he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair in the most caring manner. “So tell him. Let him know you’re mine now, too.”

Your heart jumps, even though neither of you says what this really means. That he’s not just a fling. That you don’t know how to untangle yourself from what’s happening between you and that maybe… You don’t want to.

“Give me five minutes,” he murmurs, voice low and amused as he glances at the way his tie hangs messily. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

You smile despite everything, still breathless from what just happened, still burning with nerves. You nod and smooth your dress, feeling like something irreversible has just shifted.

As you open the door to leave, his voice stops you again.

“And for the record?” he says, just loud enough for only you to hear. “I’m proud to be the one you’re choosing.”

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[silkentrigger]

♡ — caleb, zayne, sylus, rafayel, xavier. ♡ — 'i miss you' voicemails. this is not post break up or death. they're just dramatic. ♡ — no warnings.

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛。[ 2:45 am. ]

hey. it's me.

i, uh… i know you're sleeping. that's good. i hope it's good. i hope it's peaceful, like you deserve..like the world doesn't have it's claws in someone for once.

i'm still awake. been pacing a little. thought if i sat still long enough it would go away, this feeling in my chest like something's breaking loose, like i left a part of me somewhere and i can't seem to figure out how to get it back. it's stupid. you're not even far. but gods, it feels like miles.. like you're on the other side of the world and i'm talking into a void.

i don't know why it scares me this much. missing you. maybe because it's the first thing that's felt real in a long time. i keep thinking.. what if you don't come back? not because you wouldn't, just… what if something happens? what if i don't get to see you smile again.. or hear you tell me i'm being ridiculous, or fall asleep with your fingers brushing mine like it's nothing?

it's not nothing. you're not nothing. you're everything i was too scared to want until now. and i.. i can't lose you. not even the idea of you. please come back. please be okay. please let me have one more day of this. of you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

— 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞。[ 5:15 am. ]

you're not gonna hear this. you're gonna delete it. or worse, you might listen to it. you always listen, don't you?

i keep checking the door like an idiot. like you're gonna walk through it and say some sarcastic shit to keep me from falling apart.

i miss you. it's pathetic. i miss the way you shove me when i'm being dramatic. the way you look at me like i'm not someone you chose by mistake. like i could be worth staying for.

i didn't think i could miss someone this bad without losing parts of myself. i feel like i'm unraveling. my skin doesn't fit without your hands on me to remind me i'm still here. you keep me here. do you even know that? you breathe and i believe in tomorrow will still arrive.

you make it safe to hope and that terrifies me. if something happens.. if you don't come back.. just… remember i meant it. every word. every touch. i don't say things i don't mean, and you.. you're the one thing i meant more than anything. don't make me learn how to breathe without you. please.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

— 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬。[ 1:24 am. ]

you didn't answer…good. just listen.

i'm pacing. again. third night in a row. thought i'd break the habit, but no, still here. still in the same goddamn chair, staring at the same cracks in the wall and wondering if you're warm enough. if you remembered to eat, if you thought of me. how often do you think of me..?

i miss you in ways i can't say out loud when the lights are on. i miss you like hunger, like pain, like fucking worship. you ruined me. do you get that? you came into my life and ripped it open and now nothing fits without you. i sleep on your side of the bed. i drink from your mug.

i still fold your laundry like you'll walk in and roll your eyes at me for doing it wrong, because i always do. you know i do that on purpose, right?

i keep hearing your voice. not in the way people say, like 'oh, i miss the sound'. i mean i hear you. in the emptiness. in my head, narrating my thoughts. in the spaces between songs where silence should be. you echo in me.

if i lose you, i don't come back from it. don't make me live like that. please. come home.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

— 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥。[ 3:52 am. ]

it's late.

i tried to write. i tried to paint. i tried to drink tea and read the book you left on the nightstand, the one with the folded corner and your ugly sticky notes.. but none of it worked. because none of it has you.

i miss you like a tide misses the moon. how a heart misses rhythm. i ache with it. the world is too still without your laughter, too sharp without your softness.. and i'm scared, love.

i'm scared i'll forget the exact way you feel under my hands or the pattern of your breath in sleep.. the way you say my name like you mean it.

i would tear open the sky to find you again. i would burn down every beautiful thing if it meant hearing you hum off key in the morning.

i don't care if it's selfish. i want you. i need you. come back. please.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

— 𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫。[ 10:03 pm. ]

hey.

you ever notice how empty a place is when the person you love isn't in it? i didn't. not until tonight. not until i walked into the apartment and didn't hear you muttering about something.

i didn't see your shoes kicked somewhere on the floor.. or feel your arms wrap around me before i could even hang my coat.

it's quiet. too quiet. like the world's trying to teach me what it would be like if i lost you. and i can't.. i don't want to live in a world where your laugh is past tense. where the warmth in your pillowcase fades and never comes back.

i can't kiss your forehead and tell you you're enough.. even when you don't believe it. especially when you don't believe it.

i miss you so much it's making me shake. i miss you like there's something missing in me. please… don't stay gone too long. i'm not built for this kind of silence.

[victoryai]

JUNO IN THE SIGNS, 👩‍❤️‍👨

You can reblog ↪️ but please have the decency not 🚫 to steal my posts

(JUST AN HONEST OBSERVATION)

Juno represents your union and marriage with your spouse . Juno persona chart shows how both of you act and live in the union. According to me, Pls note that Juno is about the union and not your spouse . Juno focuses on you both(the union) not your spouse.

© Victoryai

♈ Juno in Aries: Your marriage/union is filled with bursts of energy and action. It's like a blockbuster movie. Life after marriage will NOT be boring 😄. You and your spouse create a union of energetic souls. You both have your own separate identities that if not handled well could damage this beautiful union. It's very possible one of you approached the other spontaneously and asked to date when you both met. Too much energy can however turn into agression if not kept in check 😭. You all can play fight 🥰 but don't let it get violent. If one is jealous they won't hide it. Cheesy couple 😤😁

♉ Juno in Taurus: This is what I love to call the chill 🌬️marriage. You guys are so steady and grounded 🥺. You're that couple that buys expensive stuff. Rich and comfortable are the words. After you say yes,you hardly go broke because this marriage has 🤑 and omg you guys look sooooo good together, people might think you guys have more than you actually have. You guys might have met in a restaurant or shopping mall, or an exotic place, or a place filled with products, goods or money. You guys eat healthy tho😁. Marriage is bringing money to upgrade you.

♊👬 Juno in Gemini: This couple can talk for hours♥️. They literally act like siblings. Always laughing at an inside joke🤣. This is the description of high school love 😘. They might have started as friend, met at school or neighborhood and have so many similarities. They're the type to write love letters to each other and roam around town at evenings. Travel short distances together such as going to school together. They're also the type to bicker alot sometimes. Childish couple 💩

♋🦀Juno in Cancer: The homie couple 🫂. Awwn 😊. You guys are so clingy. Your marriage is so sweet and homie. You both love to build a home together in a safe space. So shy🥺. This union makes both of you so empathetic and soft. Even if you are a naturally tough person, this union will soften you. You guys might have met at one of the others house or were introduced through family members.

♌ 🦁 Juno in Leo:The fun and spotlight couple always grinning from ear to ear. You both are people to get married because you derive joy from it or because you want kids so badly not because you see it a duty. Together you both will plan your outings together,make the other more confident. The downfall of this blissful union could arise because of ego or lack of passion.

♍ Juno in Virgo: In health and in sickness, till death do us apart. This Juno reminds me of marriage vows that are kept till the end. This is the marriage that will be there through thick and thin. If poorly aspected by rash planets or houses, it could mean that you guys always fight in your marriage. I know a lady who has this and she and her Husband always be bickering then the next minute they're laughing Wtf 😒😂. It might also mean that you guys may later turn out to be enemies then probably end in conflict or court 😭. I'm sorry 😔.

♎ Juno in Libra: This is a marriage!!!!!! 😆. Y'know all those countryside love stories where they meet, fall in love, get married and grow old together 😉. If your 7th lord is also well placed, then it will show a very balanced ⚖️ married life. You and your spouse will be able to settle very comfortably in your marriage with peace of mind 🌬️. The downfall of this union could be a third party interference.

♏ Juno in Scorpio: This is indicating that after marriage you guys might have a joint account/share funds together or keep important/confidential secrets from one another. Don't do that!👀. There's a tendency to get suspicious or jealous easily not because you dont trust them but because you don't want to lose them🥲. You both are passionate about love 💕* wink* 😉

♐ Juno in Sagittarius: When foreigners meet there's always curiosity to explore and understand the world together 🥺. You liked my phrase?😉🤭. Alright, you both might be foreign to one another. I mean that you guys might be from different countries, brought up in different ways or even religion but altogether what brings you together is curiosity/knowledge/adventure. You both might also meet at a place of learning or worship e.g university /church. Somewhere far from home. The marriage itself will be characterized by 😊 fun, learning, morals/religious beliefs or a significant distance between you both (physically or culturally. Don't laugh too much, you might end up falling in love 😂.

♑ Juno in Capricorn: The couple that every one knows is together! or should I say power couple? Your marriage is going to make you high class or put you in a place of authority . You guys might be a celebrity couple or be in the same line of business. Marriage promises stability to you both. With other saturnian aspects inclusive, they might be a significant difference in age or status btw you both. You might get married late too. Make sure you don't get to caught up in the public eye after marriage, people are nosy 💩.

♒ Juno in Aquarius: You and your spouse are similar in many ways . Might be closer than people expect. From my observations, there's some weirdness with this union. I observed this in a chart and Her husband was about 30 years older than her(but it was also conjunct Uranus). People are just really confused about what to say concerning this union.

Another scenario could be that you were first friends then it turned into a love story 🤭 or you both truly were not expecting it to take you guys this far. Maybe it was something casual , then boom 🤯 before you knew it, you were getting married. You might meet online or through friend or big events. Marriage will help you achieve that long term goal

♓ Juno in Pisces:🌬️🍃. Juno in Pisces is the ultimate union of souls 🌬️. You both will never meet another person apart from your partner that will be able to understand you on a deeper level. Your spouse is someone that can be so far away from you, but so near at the same time. You guys might frequently dream bout each other even before meeting. Marriage will make you moreeee spiritual and in tune with other realms . Another scenario (take with a cup of coffee) is that overtime you both can grow apart 😭 due to emotional distance. One might go to jail because of this union (physical or mental) I'm sorry 😔.

@victoryai

[loveemagicpeace]

Astro Notes

Scorpio & Virgo moon have the most difficult relationship with their mother and are usually critical. With Virgo moon, the mother is very critical and can make you feel like you are never enough and often compares you to relatives. And gives examples of how others are better than you. It can also be a mother who is a little possessive or strange. With Scorpio moon, the mother can be possessive, secretive. Maybe she wants to control you or tell you what's good for you in life. A relationship with her can be intense.

People with capricorn sun and rising their face, facial features, stand out a lot, also the jawline is very visible. They have very prominent bones. So when you look at them you can immediately see that they have a Capricorn. And many times their moon is not so noticeable on their face. Especially if they have a water moon, it is sometimes almost unnoticeable.

People with cancer and gemini in their chart are very goofy. Their moods can change quickly and they can go from laughing to crying. They like to do multiple things in a day and tend to be more introverted by nature. They like to make the most of their time at home and focus on themselves.

Aries placements mixed with 12th house -You can be very independent and self-centered. Know how to be yourself and enjoy your own company without feeling bad. It feels like you're floating above the clouds.

Mars in 12th house maybe you didn't notice it as much as you did as a child, but as you grow up, you can do a lot of things on your own and rely on yourself. Especially if you have Mars in a fire sign, you can find out a lot about yourself and your energy. Energetically, you can feel very good about yourself. When you are with yourself you can feel a calm and peaceful energy within yourself. Many things that you never imagined doing alone, you start to really enjoy over the years, for example: going for a coffee alone, going for a walk alone, enjoying the sea, writing by the sea, even traveling can be very enjoyable. Aries mars -When you are alone, you discover who you really are and you can connect deeply with your own energy. Leo mars-When you're alone, you can find out where you really shine and how you feel most seen, doing hobbies that make you happy. Sagittarius mars-When you are alone, you can discover what you truly believe in and you can find faith in yourself and a new path.

9th house placements people - They can find meaning in life through travel. Many times they can find a higher self and optimism through bad times. They can impart a lot of knowledge to others and can be very good motivators, teachers. They have a lot of knowledge and are very intelligent. Wise people who will always impart a lot of knowledge and advice to you that you will think about a lot. Very smart people, and they know how to impart knowledge and advice in such a way that when you talk to them you get a new perspective on yourself and life itself.

Moon and Mars they differ in what you need emotionally and where you energetically want to be and actually act. The moon is your safe space, your comfort zone, and where you feel very good. And what do you do to feel better emotionally. It can sometimes also represent an escape from the real world. But things are felt from within, the moon is really the most hidden planet - something you don't share with everyone. Also how you subconsciously feel and how you deal with emotions. Mars represents how you get things done and how your energy will manifest. Your response to your surroundings and how you will show your energy to others. Mars shows your response to conflict, anger, joy, sadness, pain.

You will get along best with the person whose Venus and Mars fall in open houses. This applies to friendships, partnerships - all relationships. Because Venus represents the kind of relationship you have, how you express love, or your general attitude towards each other (what you value and how you value things). When you and a person have a similar or identical love language, it's much easier. Mars indicates the energy between you and how you give it, where you give it. You will be interested in the same things and the energy between you will not be so draining. For ex.: mars in sagittarius in 12th house -You like to put your energy into things that bring you peace, joy, optimism, passion and at the same time spirituality. A feeling of calmness (that you are somewhere and you just exist). The person with mars in gemini in 11th house can quickly drain your energy because you will feel that the person is too much on all sides and that they are giving too much energy through mentality, socializing. The person with mars in taurus in 8th house could make you feel like sometimes you can only be in silence and enjoy the moment.

When Saturn moves into your 7th house your perspective on relationships changes a lot and you start to value completely different things than you did before. You start looking much more for stability and a relationship that you know will be serious and that you will feel good in. But it can also translate into loneliness and alienation from people. You can quickly feel lonely around people.

Saturn represents what you lack, what you fear, and where you are doing better over the years.What improves in your adult years. Saturn in Aries- Your mission is to find yourself, stand up for yourself (your desires, needs), show your energy outwardly without fear. To confidently approach problems and things and to present yourself in a courageous light. Choose yourself and not others. Saturn in Taurus -You have to find beauty and value within yourself, don't compare yourself to others. Saturn in Scorpio- Here are the things in your life that could be darker. You can also have a weird relationship with the unknown. There is also usually a bit of paranoia that  comes with this placement.

Venus in Capricorn is very tricky Venus, because you want a serious relationship and a partner with whom you can build and create a beautiful, pleasant relationship, you don't really demand much and you can be non-judgmental of partners. But you are often disappointed and hurt and this can lead to you closing yourself off and becoming sensitive, cautious. Many times it can also happen that you are rejected and that you are not chosen one. When true love comes, it can take a long time to let the person in. Many times they propose things (as a kind of "contract" that they make in a relationship with another person) but many times it happens that they then want to change things. Especially when they want things to be easy then suddenly they feel that they still want something serious. They will never want " fun things" even if they say so at the beginning, they actually want something different but it takes time for them and they want to build something with the person.

Taurus often owns a house or apartment. They are also very driven to create a life that is stable. Many Taurus are naturally attracted to the countryside. They usually always have a garden at home - they like to be surrounded by plants. In their free time, they like to watch their favorite series and meet up with friends for lunch. They value comfort.

Cancers like to spend time at home and close to people they know. Many Cancers live in the country or somewhere with a more peaceful environment and they don’t like too much stress, people and crowds. They like a place that is stable, comfortable and emotional. They also like to live in places that are connected to history and like to live by the water. Many Cancers collect antiques or historical items.

Leos always create a home they are proud of and add things that make their home shine. They also sometimes have the need to show off. They like to have the things they have - only they have them or to decorate a home with them, making it shinier than others. Sometimes they can be competitive with people for what they have and want to have something better than others. They like bright colors at home because too many neutral colors can make them depressed. They want their home to be as vibrant as possible. They do not tolerate poverty well.

-Rebekah💗🌊

[lass-us-slay]

So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.

So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.

So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.

So what does he do?

Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.

Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.

Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️

AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!

And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes

Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!

And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:

Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.

.

.

.

Good. I’m tired af

And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.

It’s going great.

But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.

And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.

Yk because of the ectoplasm.

So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!

In the form of blob ghosts.

Two actually.

They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.

Everything was great.

Danny was loving the trash can life style.

He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.

He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.

However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.

Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.

But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.

He stared, they stared back.

Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:

“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”

But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.

Which- rude.

Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.

Plus.

It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!

They should mind their own business!

———

Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.

[theskywithin]

Birth Chart Breakdown: Planets in The Seventh House

☉ Sun in the Seventh House You want them to see you fully, not just in the moments when you shine, but in the cracks between the light. You hope they recognize your quiet courage, the way you burn even when the wind tries to put you out. You ache for someone to stand in your fire without fear, to love the parts of you that feel too much, too bright, too alive. And beneath it all, you hope for this simple truth: that your light is not too blinding for love to stay.

☽ Moon in the Seventh House You carry storms beneath your skin, and you wonder if anyone will ever know how deeply they run. You want them to hold you when your tides rise, to steady you without asking you to silence your waves. There is a part of you that longs to melt into their chest, to let your softness show without fearing it will scare them away. You hope they will read your quiet emotions like a map, tracing every contour with care, making you feel safe enough to be fully felt.

☿ Mercury in the Seventh House You long for someone to hear the words you cannot speak, to understand the language that lives beneath your tongue. You want to feel them catch your fleeting thoughts like fireflies in the dark, lighting up parts of you even you forget are there. You don’t just want to be heard, you want to be understood in the way that feels like home, where you can stop explaining yourself and simply exist in the echo of their knowing.

♀ Venus in the Seventh House You crave to be chosen, not as an option, but as an instinct. You want to feel them reach for you like they’ve always known you were theirs. Not for perfection, not for performance, but for the subtle gravity of your being. You hope they will see beauty where you see flaws, desire where you feel doubt, and hold you like a precious secret they have no intention of letting slip away.

♂ Mars in the Seventh House You need to feel their fire meet your own. You don’t want quiet affection, you want intensity that reminds you of your own aliveness. You want their passion to collide with yours, to spark something uncontrollable between you. Beneath it all, you hunger for the kind of connection that doesn’t ask you to soften, but dares you to burn brighter together, until you forget where your flame ends and theirs begins.

♃ Jupiter in the Seventh House You hope they will grow with you, not just alongside you, but as part of the same wild expansion. You dream of building something bigger than either of you could carry alone, of sharing a journey that feels like the horizon is always just a little farther, a little brighter. You want them to believe in you, and with you, to look at your combined paths and say: yes, let’s go further, let’s go all the way.

♄ Saturn in the Seventh House You fear they might see your weight and walk away, afraid of the depths you carry. Yet, what you truly want is not to be light, it is to be worth the weight. You crave someone who stays when things grow heavy, who does not flinch at your complexities or your cautious heart. You want to trust that you can let them in without losing yourself, that your fears of falling short will be met not with judgment, but with hands that hold you steady.

♅ Uranus in the Seventh House You want to be seen in your wildness and still loved for it. You dream of a connection that doesn’t confine you, that leaves space for you to breathe, to change, to surprise even yourself. You hope they understand that freedom does not mean distance, and closeness does not mean captivity. What you want is someone who will run beside you, not to catch you, but to feel the wind of life as you both race forward.

♆ Neptune in the Seventh House You carry a dream inside you, a longing for a love that feels like it belongs to another world. You want someone to see you through the haze, to reach through the mist of your hopes and hold you with both hands. You know the risk, you know dreams can fade, illusions can shatter, but you still hope. Hope that this connection is not just a beautiful thought, but a living, breathing miracle.

♇ Pluto in the Seventh House You want to be seen beyond the surface, past the layers you’ve built to keep yourself safe. You want someone to look into the shadows of your soul and not turn away. You crave the kind of love that unearths you, that pulls you raw and trembling into the open, and still stays. You are terrified of this exposure, but more than fear, you hunger for it, because only in that depth can you feel completely, terrifyingly, alive.

🔭 Astrology isn’t a mystery. It’s a mirror. 📖 Let my book show you what’s already written.

[jaewritesfic]

Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost

[oh-no-its-bird]

It is simply an undeniable, inevitable fact of life that if you are placed on the same team as Hatake Kakashi; you will eventually get some form of crush on him.

For the lucky ones, it only lasts a few minutes before they remember themselves (and their standards.) For the unluckier ones, it can go on for much, much longer than that.

Anyways the point of this is: Team Ro individually crushing on Kakashi as they grow up. I think it's fun to think about

Itachi got it the worst, 12 years old and given this untouchable authority figure somewhat within his age range. A safe space among the ANBU, another baby genius who gets it— gets the pressure, gets being different, even gets being looked at with suspicion (for Itachi, as an Uchiha. For Kakashi, as the White Fang's son and Friend Killer Kakashi)

Luckily enough for him, this crush only lasted like a month. Or at least it only got that far before he learned how to hide it better (and, of course, he then had bigger things to think about than a silly childhood crush)

Shisui was certainly the loudest about his, with the passive sort of on and off crush you'd expect a 15 year old kid to get on his cool senior. He's not exactly good at hiding it, and honestly possibly doesn't espexially care to. It's embaressing but also, have you seen Kakashi in action? Shisui won't apologize for his tastes!

Shisui is the kind of guy to have a few different crushes in a few different people at a time— maybe if one of them actually looked back at him, he'd form a genuine crush but till then he's just kinda looking respectfully and sighing wistfully about how cool and strong they are

Tenzo certainly got it the worst, rocking a years long crush on his personal hero that's only managed to fade a little in recent years as an adult (usually when he's faced with Kakashi being a deliberate bastard in his general direction)

But like. Kakashi being his personal hero, an untouchable figure when he's a kid that slowly grows into a real home and safe space/person— feeling more and more real to Tenzo with each passing year

Tbh, specifically Itachi having a crush on Kakashi as a kid is the funniest thing to me. It's not reciprocated to be clear, Itachi was like 11 when Kakashi was like 17 and it was a silly, kiddie, puppy crush of "my captain is so cool..." where Itachi himself probably didn't even have the full context for what he was feeling.

But like, specifically from the angle of them both in their 20's and Sasuke learning that, as a kid, his awful evil genocidal brother had a crush on... HIS teacher????!?!?? What the FUCK.

Funniest thing in the world. Kakashi is 2 for 3 of the living Uchiha's having a childhood crush on him and that's beautiful to me. You go king!

Anyways actually, idea for the WORST conversation ever (aka the funniest thing:)

Tenzo for some reason being a temporary prisoner of the Akatsuki, and Itachi standing guard. And Itachi very awkwardly asks about Kakashi. And what proceeds is the most painful

"...do you still have a crush on him?"

"No. (yes) Do you?"

"No. (Yes.)"

-type conversation EVER. Tenzo can not believe this bastards balls actually. Get the FUCK away from his senpai.

Actually: horrible alternative, that exact situation but with Sasuke. Itachi has him captured and, very much not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room, blurts out the first thing he can think about: How is Kakashi doing?

Sasuke, who hasn't interacted w Kakashi since declaring he wanted to kill him: ?????

Sasuke is coming out of this conversation going "god fucking dammit Itachi is EVERYONE more important to you than me !?!??"

Later Sasuke runs into Kakashi and screams something about hating him and that hoping Itachi's nasty ass crush on him means Itachi will kill him next so Sasuke doesn't have to dirty his own hands

Kakashi, who was completley unaware that Itachi had ever had a crush on him and is not enjoying this new knowledge: ????

Tenzo who already knew and is somehow enjoying this knowledge even less than Kakashi is: ...

In general tbh I wish we'd gotten more team Ro interactions as adults, I think there's so much potential there. Tenzo, Kakashi and Itachi were around eachother for what was arguably some of the most vulnerable times of their lives, for multiple years. That must have left some sort of mark ??

And I mean, we so get to see the lasting impact via Tenzo and Kakashi's friendship but come on!!! How does Itachi play into that equasion!! I know he has to somehow!

Anyways yeah: Kakashi following in his dads sexyman footsteps without even realizing it,,, it delights me to think about.

[mashtatosworld]

calm in the chaos

summary: you give birth to your first baby

You should have known when Jiyong walked into the room with a beret perched on his head and a set of fine paintbrushes in the other, that today was not going to go as planned.

You had thought you were going to start painting the nursery.

You had been excited, even, having selected a range of pink shades together weeks ago. You’d imagined the two of you working side by side, getting messy with paint, making this space a home for your little girl.

But instead, you found yourself sitting on the nursery floor, your maternity dress rolled up over your stomach, as your husband carefully dragged a paintbrush across your swollen belly.

You sighed, watching him dip the brush into a soft pastel colour before sweeping it over your skin. "Ji, why are we doing this again?"

He didn’t even look up, his lips pursed in deep concentration. “She gives me inspiration.”

You arched a brow. "She?"

“Our baby,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I’m waiting for her to tell me how she wants the room painted."

You blinked. "You don’t know what colour you want the nursery to be?"

He had a vision board, a Pinterest board and even hired interior designers to help plan the nursery. But in the end, the two of you went to the store and picked out your favourite swatches of pregnancy safe paint - of which he was now painting on your stomach.

“I thought I did," he admitted, sticking a tiny flower to your belly, right where he had just painted. "But then I realised, I should wait for her input."

You stared at him, bewildered. "She’s going to decide?"

He nodded sagely. "Of course."

You sighed again, shaking your head. "And how exactly is she going to do that?"

At that exact moment, a small but firm kick pressed against your stomach, right where he had been painting.

Jiyong grinned, eyes wide with excitement. "Ahhh, see? She’s choosing!"

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Or maybe she’s just done with you poking her all the time.”

He ignored your teasing, his expression turning softer, more thoughtful. He ran a hand gently over your stomach, his wedding ring cold against your skin as it grazed the painted surface.

"I feel so connected to her already," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your belly. "I think she’s going to share my artistic vision but have your beauty." His eyes flicked up to you, filled with so much love it made your breath catch. "She’s so lucky."

Your heart melted, and you reached out to touch him, feeling closer than ever. "We’re the lucky ones, Ji."

He smiled, rubbing a hand over your belly again before picking up another flower petal and sticking it carefully to your skin.

After a few more strokes of paint and some deep, artistic pondering on Jiyong’s end, you finally asked, "So… now that she’s chosen the colour, can we start painting the nursery?"

Jiyong froze, slowly pursing his lips. His expression instantly shifted from serene to guilty.

You narrowed your eyes. "Jiyong."

He cleared his throat. "Well… we could… but, you know, it's a lot of labour, and - "

"Ji."

"And you're pregnant, and I just - ”

"Ji."

"I don’t want you moving around too much!" he finally blurted, eyes pleading. "It’s not safe!"

You stared at him, incredulous. "That’s why you’ve been delaying? Because you don’t want me painting?"

He nodded quickly. “I mean, you are involved! You’re growing our princess!”

You threw your hands in the air. "Jiyong, come on. I want to help. I’m not going to break!"

He hesitated, clearly torn between his need to protect you and his desire to make you happy. After a long pause, he finally sighed in defeat.

“Fine.”

"Thank you."

"But only sticking flowers to the wall," he warned. "No climbing ladders. No stretching. No actual painting. Just decorating."

You rolled your eyes but took what you could get. "Deal."

He'd been like that your whole pregnancy.

You weren’t allowed to carry anything. Not a grocery bag, not the laundry, not even your own shoes if he was feeling particularly protective. The man had damn near wrestled a glass out of your hand once, insisting it was too full and too heavy - until you nearly bit his head off.

After that, he reluctantly allowed you to lift a drink or your phone. But everything else?

Off limits.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

An hour later, the nursery was transformed.

The walls were coated in the perfect shade of soft pink, the door dotted with tiny, delicate flowers. Jiyong had even painted a subtle mural on one wall - gentle brushstrokes forming a dreamy, almost ethereal heart. It was beautiful.

You both stood in the centre of the room, looking around in awe.

It suddenly felt real.

This wasn’t just a room anymore. This was your baby’s room. The space where you would rock her to sleep, where she would wake up every morning, where she would play and grow.

Jiyong took your hand in his, his grip warm and steady. He gave you a small, almost disbelieving smile. “This is really happening, huh?”

You squeezed his fingers. “Yeah.”

Briefly, you were pulled back to when you first met him. At the time, you'd been too afraid to even look him in the eyes. And yet now you would touch your stomach and wonder if your baby would have those same, curious eyes...

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

The three of you - already a family.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You should have known.

You should have known when Jiyong didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol all night - not even during Youngbae’s toast.

You should have known when he stayed practically glued to your side all night, his hand permanently resting on your belly like some kind of monitor.

And you should have known when he kept looking at you with that knowing little smirk every time you shifted uncomfortably.

But you?

You were in denial.

Sure, there had been some cramping earlier that day, but that was normal at nine months pregnant. It was not the start of labour.

No way. Not tonight, of all nights. Not when you were supposed to be enjoying Youngbae’s big concert, surrounded by your closest friends.

So, you pushed through.

You swayed lightly in the VIP section, singing along with Hyorin. And you breathed through the discomfort when Jiyong leaned in, murmuring sweet nothings against your temple.

And then the concert ended.

You were all backstage, congratulating Youngbae, when a sharp pain rippled through your stomach. Your hand immediately shot out, grabbing the nearest thing - which happened to be Jiyong’s forearm.

You squeezed, fingers digging in.

Jiyong didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he sighed, tilting his head with that same knowing smirk. "Right, jagi - your contractions are within five minutes. It’s time to go to meet our baby."

Silence.

Then -

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

Every single person in the room turned to stare.

Youngbae, still towelling off his sweat, froze. Hyorin’s jaw dropped. Daesung, mid-sip of water, choked violently.

"Is this really happening?!"

"How could I have not noticed?"

"I'm going to be an uncle again?"

Jiyong rolled his eyes. "Yes, ok, she's in labour. Time to go. Let’s move."

"Yah!" Hyorin smacked your arm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You can't smack a pregnant person!" Daesung jumped in, standing in front of you like a personal bodyguard.

You tried to protest, but another contraction hit, and all that came out was a pained groan.

"What are we waiting for!" Youngbae ushered, grabbing his wife as Daesung threw on his jacket.

"This isn't an afterparty." You muttered, shuffling out of the room with Jiyong at your side as the others followed closely behind.

"We were there when you met, we'll be there for this too."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The car ride was complete chaos.

You were wedged in the back between Hyorin and Daesung, who were gripping your hands like they was the ones about to give birth.

Youngbae was in the passenger seat, throwing out directions that he believed was the fastest way to the hospital.

"Take a left here! Hyung! Hyung! You missed the turning," He instructed Jiyong, his maps up on his phone. "Go right here! No! Jiyong!"

Your husband ignored his frantic shouting as he continued straight ahead. "I know the way." He'd been studying every route to the hospital since you entered your third trimester.

Daesung, squished in the back, was losing his mind. “Drive faster! Why are we not driving faster?! This is an emergency! Run the light!”

Jiyong stayed silent.

Completely calm. Not panicked. Not frantic. Not hovering.

He just gripped the wheel, eyes steady, jaw set. Cool. Collected.

Which only made it worse because nobody expected this.

“Why is he so quiet?!” Daesung hissed from the back.

"Maybe he's in shock!" Hyorin whispered back. "Youngbae fainted when I had our son."

"Hey... I was tired and simply closed my eyes," Youngbae muttered in return. He then looked to his bandmate with wide eyes. "You're not going to faint right? Tell me and I'll grab the wheel."

Jiyong rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

"That makes it weirder, Jiyong!” Daesung exclaimed.

You let out a strangled groan as another contraction hit, gripping Hyorin’s fingers like a vice.

Jiyong found your eyes in the mirror. His voice was calm when he spoke.

"Breathe, jagi," he murmured. "We’re almost there."

Everyone else was in full-blown meltdown mode, and yet he was here, anchored, pulling you back down to earth.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

By the time you got to the hospital, Jiyong immediately sprang into action.

The moment the car stopped, he was out, grabbing the hospital bag from the trunk - which he had secretly packed without your knowledge.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group spilled out of the car like a panicked clown parade.

"Move, move, move!” Youngbae yelled like it was a military drill.

Jiyong opened the door for you, helping you out carefully, and wrapped an arm around your waist as he guided you inside. The others trailed behind, all talking at once -

"We’re here for the birth!”

"She’s having the baby right now!”

"We need a wheelchair!"

"I can still walk Daesung.” You declined even when he nearly tripped you up, trailing closely behind at your heels.

Jiyong ignored all of them. He was only focused on you.

Hyorin was on the phone with your mother, giving her updates in hushed tones. Youngbae was already calling Jiyong’s mom. Daesung, pulled out his own phone, not one to be left out.

"I'm calling Seunghyun," He muttered.

Another contraction hit. You clenched your jaw, voice shaking. "Ji... I’m scared."

And just like that, his entire demeanour softened.

He turned to you, his hands framing your face as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I know, baby," he whispered. "But you’re going to be okay. I’m right here."

And somehow, that was enough.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The moment you were wheeled into the delivery room, the chaos of your friends faded.

It was just you and Jiyong now.

He never let go of your hand.

Not once.

Through every contraction, every moment of pain, he was there. Whispering reassurances. Kissing your knuckles. Smoothing your hair.

"You’re doing so well, jagi."

"Just a little more, my baby."

"I’m right here."

And when your daughter finally entered the world - when her tiny cries filled the room - Jiyong let out the softest, most broken breath.

The doctor placed her in your arms, and Jiyong just stared.

He looked at you, his eyes wet, his lips trembling. "She's here," he whispered. "You did it."

You nodded weakly, exhausted beyond words.

And Jiyong - your calm in the chaos - just broke.

Tears streamed down his face as he cupped your daughter’s tiny head, his hands shaking. "She's perfect," he whispered.

You smiled sleepily, watching the love in his eyes as he gazed at your little girl - the masterpiece he had been waiting for.

The one he'd been waiting for his whole life.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

a throwback to the birth of baby diva! i thought i should post this before Angel arrives - which is not long now!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife

[woso-dreamzzz]

Nothing But Net III

Leah Williamson x Netballer!Reader

Summary: Leah is dramatic about your move

"Am I not essential?" Your girlfriend asks in her usual brand of drama," Don't you want to take me with you?"

You glance behind you as Leah sprawls herself out onto your suitcase, attempting to cram herself into the small space before deciding to just spread out all of her limbs so you could squish nothing in around her.

"Leah, you know I want you to come with but unless, you're leaving Arsenal, it's not happening."

She grunts as you roll her out of the suitcase and face first onto the bed.

You hum to yourself as you fold your clothes and place them into the case.

A small smile makes its way onto your face as Leah continues to lay face down in the pillows.

You couldn't imagine her ever leaving Arsenal. You think she'd sooner retire than leave that club.

"Do you think we can get Arsenal to relocate?"

"To Australia?" You giggle," I don't think so."

Leah rolls over, settling on her side as she watches you pack. "You're going to be so far though. I'm going to miss you."

"I'd hope that you would, seeing as you're dating me. I'd have questions if you didn't."

"You know what I mean" Leah says," We haven't slept apart since you moved in. I don't know what I'm meant to do now that we can't cuddle."

You drop your last shirt into your suitcase, sitting on the edge of the bed as you look around the room.

The offer from the Adelaide Thunderbirds had come out of thin air for you. You hadn't been expecting it but it was an offer you were more than eager to accept.

But you didn't.

Not at first anyway.

Australia was a long way away. An especially long way away when you took into account your girlfriend and your relationship.

You'd discussed it with her, of course. It wasn't the end of the world if you didn't go but both of you knew you wanted to.

You desperately wanted to and Leah only wanted the best for you.

So she encouraged your choice. She told you how good it would be for you. She told you how much she wanted you to be happy.

So you accepted the offer and now found yourself deciding what to pack in your plane luggage, what to send in the mail and what to leave at home with Leah.

You'd graciously allowed her to keep the air fryer and the cheese grater but decided to take almost all of the pots and pans with you because it wasn't like Leah would be using them in your absence.

"I could get you a body pillow," You tease, cupping Leah's face in your hands and placing a teasing kiss against her lips," You can buy those customised pillow cases now. I'll slap a picture of myself on it, would that make you happy?"

She laughs into the next kiss and you grin against her lips.

"Only if you're looking super sexy on it."

"So your teammates can barge in and see it? I think not, Williamson."

"Maybe not super sexy," Leah agrees," Maybe just kind of sexy then. I can't have the team finding out how sexy you are and trying to steal you from me."

"Well, I'll be safe in Australia while you sort them out."

"Mhm, yeah," Leah says as she steals another kiss," You will be. I guess we can go for that super sexy pillow case after all."

She rolls onto her back, hands blindly grabbing and pulling until you're seated on her lap comfortably.

"Oh, yeah? Which one are you thinking?"

Leah's hand sneaks under your shirt as her fingers gently stroke your waist in soft circles.

"That one when we went to Ibiza," She whispers against your skin," Where you're on your back tanning. In that little bikini I like."

"You're going to get teased so much if the girls find out you're going to be sleeping with a body pillow of me," You laugh, barely any space between your lips.

"I can deal with it."

"Are you sure? No pouty calls to me about the girls teasing you?"

"Well," Leah says," That's a non negotiable. You're always getting called about when the girls tease me. I have to have someone defend my honour, right?"

"All the way from Australia? I don't know how much of a defence I can imagine."

"But you'll try, right? You won't leave me all alone?"

You laugh. "I can try. If it gets bad, I'll get the first flight back so I can do it in person. How does that sound?"

Leah grins against your lips as she kisses you. "I'll take that. I can't wait to tell Beth to stop being mean to me otherwise I'll have to pull my girlfriend out of her very busy job in Australia to scold her. She's never going to piss me off again."

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[cybersunnie]

operation mistletoe

With a mistletoe, RAFE CAMERON can do just about anything.

includes fem!reader / soft!rafe / fluff / established relationship / brief conflict / petnames ("baby") / safe for minors to read! / wc 951

When you came home from work tired and in a pissy mood, all you wanted was some peace and quiet. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, had different plans. 

Rafe thought attacking you with tickles would be a good way to greet you. He had done it before. You laughed, the sound shrill and bouncing off the walls. And he got a laugh out of it, too. No harm, no foul. What could go wrong this time? Especially since it was the holiday season—all cheer and festive?

Everything, apparently. 

You knew he had good intentions when he pounced on you the moment you stepped inside, his fingers tickling your sides. But instead of letting out a chorus of laughter, you snapped at him. You could tell he was caught off guard, the grin on his face faltering as you told him to stop and muttered how annoying he was under your breath. The hurt that flashed across his face stung, but you didn’t take it back. You wished you had, though. 

Now, you were curled up on your bed.

Neither of you had spoken a word to each other after that, not even a glance, and you were sure it was killing him as much as it was killing you. Sure, it had only been ten minutes, but underneath all your anger was someone who just wanted her boyfriend.

You felt the bed dip behind you. Rafe cleared his throat.

“Baby?” 

You stared hard at the wall. It was nice to hear his voice. “What?”

As he moved closer, you felt the space between you shrink, the warmth of his body engulfing yours. Every part of you wanted to fall into him, into his embrace. Maybe you should.

“Look at me.”

“No,” you mumbled, not bothering to turn your head. The wall was more interesting to look at.

You heard Rafe fail to stifle his scoff. He was probably clenching his jaw, too. You were aware that you were being unreasonably stubborn. But you knew, for you, he would be patient—at least, he would try to be patient. Always.

“Don’t be like that,” he spoke gently. “C’mon, my arm’s gonna get tired.”

Good. You hoped his arm got tired. 

Wait, why would his arm get tired? What was he doing?

A frown formed on your face, and your ever-growing curiosity made you roll over.

You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first. But then your gaze followed up his raised arm, and you saw that he was holding a mistletoe above the two of you. Where did he—? Your eyes darted to the doorway of your bedroom. The mistletoe you had hung there weeks ago was gone. 

Oh, this motherfucker. He was clever, you would give him that.

With raised brows, he shook the mistletoe. “Y’know what that means.”

“Rafe,” you groaned, running your hands over your face.

“We have to kiss.”

You splayed your fingers to peek at him and saw his face was closer than before. For a split second, your mouth curved into a smile. You were in love with an idiot. 

“We don’t have to.”

He smirked. “Tradition says otherwise.” 

That made you sigh. He wasn’t going to give up, was he? 

Your hands dropped from your face, and you glanced at the mistletoe. It was just there, taunting you. Kiss, kiss, kiss! Still, you didn’t move. But Rafe inched closer, and you watched how his gaze skimmed over your features. He looked at you like you were everything he wanted and more. You were made for me, his eyes screamed. 

Your stubborn act buffered. You couldn’t resist any longer. You leaned in, too, your cheeks on fire.

He exhaled, almost like he was relieved you had relented, and locked his lips with yours. You had kissed him countless times before, yet he still had you burning as if it was your first. His free hand slipped to cup your jaw, his mouth moving with yours, communicating to you in a language only you two understood. This was more than just your boyfriend stealing a kiss from you while you were mad at him.

You were the first to part, your lips brushing his for one last taste before reeling away. When your eyes fluttered open, any lingering irritation there was gone.

Rafe lowered his raised arm, letting go of the mistletoe to hold your face. His nose bumped into yours as if he were going in for another, but he held back, sucking in a breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he muttered, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Really.”

You shook your head. 

“No, I’m sorry. I was in a bad mood, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” you said, your voice sweet and smooth like honey. “You’re not annoying.”

He squinted just the tiniest bit. “Nah, I can be pretty annoying.”

You gaped at him as if he had insulted you. It felt like he did. How dare he doubt your words. 

“That’s not true,” you insisted, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.

Seemingly unconvinced, Rafe hummed and tilted his head forward until his forehead touched yours. He had to be fishing for compliments. Then you saw his lips twitch as he fought back a grin. That told you enough. He was definitely fishing for compliments.

You narrowed your eyes. “You trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Fuck, no,” he breathed out, laughing.

And then Rafe kissed you again, a hand cradling the back of your head, and your lips melted against his. He moved to hover above you, his body caging you in, and chuckled into your mouth. You did the same. 

This was the peace and quiet you needed.

sunnie speaks! happy holidays my sweethearts! i had sm fun writing and i hope you enjoyed reading!!! 🎄🩵 let's chat about rafe cameron!

if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!