#it'll get worse in the next one lmao

[moononastring]

Spirit Meets the Bones XVII

Find it all here. Genre: Angst/Romance  Author’s Note: And we are BACK! I will forever be in awe that people liked this story enough to keep waiting. Know that I sincerely appreciate every single one of you and you keep me truly wanting to continue! Feedback is always welcome and very encouraging :) I love knowing what you think so thank you for reading!

the biggest shoutout goes to my girl @finalgirl-steve who has supported me like no other and helped me bounce ideas as well as beta read for me!! you can thank her as well for helping me get the story back up and running ♥️♥️♥️

Tagging: @useraelin | @vanserrass | @spinachtz | @story-scribbler | @elizab3th-grace | @starfall-everynight | @daily-dose-of-sass | @highlady-fireheart | @carnythian | @theviewfromtheotherside | @climb-the-mountian | @ladyelain | @lovedbyth3sun | @carolynmezzosoprano | @thedarkinmansfield | @moonfawnx | @imma-too-many-fandoms | @that-golden-lyre | @electromagnetic-waves | @x-soladosisfacitvenenum-x | @krem-does-stuff | @cynicalpotato95 | @lattristanketcup | @tiny-dragon-lover | @nightchanges20 | @inurus | @juulle987 | @my-otrand | @daydreamer-anst | @theeternalstruggle | @raila-styles-blog | @gazpcy | @deez-thrillerkiller16 | @sweet-but-stormy | @illyrianshadowhunter | @this-is-rochelle | @sweetstarelf | @thewilderheart | @dimenticalitutti | @noc-skuplja-vijeka | @arielle-reads | @readthelastpaage

Eris hadn’t even felt them winnow. He knew nothing, had sensed nothing, save for Iris and the feeling of her lips on his. All that he was, was being consumed by her. 

She pulled away, a fraction of an inch between them, eyes wide as she stared into her husband’s amber eyes. She barely breathed as he stared and stared and stared.

Mine.

The word clanged in his mind as Iris gripped the front of Eris’s tunic tighter, her fingers tightening as she staggered back slightly. He wondered if she had felt it — the thread tugging at his rib. If she knew how suddenly everything between them made sense. The attraction. The constant need to touch. How right it had felt even when neither of them had wanted it to be.

The Prince of Autumn wondered if it had clicked for her, that Iris was his and he was hers in a way no one would ever be. Something he never thought he’d have. Something he hadn’t even dreamed of being worthy of.

His. She was his and he was hers.

Iris blinked, finally noticing the heat that radiated around them. 

“We’re — we’re on fire.” she whispered, her eyes darting to the flames they were engulfed in then back to his face, cataloging what he was sure was a slightly dazed expression. 

“I know.” he said tightly, his gaze never leaving hers. 

Iris reached out a hand, letting the flame dance between her fingers. “It’s not burning.” 

She watched him in a way that made him feel too vulnerable — too raw. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then said hoarsely, “My fire would never burn you.” 

And Iris flushed as the words washed over her. At the honesty in them. His fire would burn whomever he wished except for one person — a person he could never harm.

“Oh.” she whispered, her eyes darting across his face and the many emotions Eris knew he was fighting to hide.

But she must feel the sheer amount of intensity between them. She must know.

“Iris —” he rasped and licked his lips. “I —”

“Shut up.” she breathed and met his lips again, pulling him into her once more, and oh, what a kiss. 

Eris’s kiss was an imprint on her very soul and Iris felt and felt and felt. Iris felt so deeply, she wished she hadn’t wasted a single kiss on anyone else. 

She let him tighten his grip and a noise slipped from her lips when his tongue met hers. She wouldn’t let him stop — would simply keep going. They didn’t need to see anyone. They could go home and keep kissing. They could sink right here, out in the open, and simply keep kissing.

“If you don’t stop —” Eris said in between his heated kisses, his hands squeezing her waist, then sliding to squeeze lower and the feeling of his hands on her had gooseflesh erupting all over her skin. “Nothing will stop me from letting this get inappropriate very quickly.”

“If you stop kissing me —” she whispered against his lips, arching into his touch. “I will stab you in so many places —”

He pulled away with a laugh and Iris truly wanted to gut him. But she also wanted to kiss him again and — and have him touch her some more. Face heated, she tried to yank him down to her lips again but Eris smirked, his hands coming to grip her face. She tried not to shudder at the reverent way he held her, at the way his thumbs traced her cheeks so gently. His lips were smirking but his eyes gave away all that he was feeling. It mirrored all that she was feeling.

“Please don’t stab me.” he said in a tone more gently than he had ever used with her, his gaze matching the whirlwind of emotions blazing through her. “I want to keep kissing you but can’t if I’m bleeding out all over my nice clothes.”

Iris couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “Such a pretty princess you are.”

“The most pretty of princesses.” he confirmed with a smirk then leaned in and kissed her once more. This kiss a caress, a little hello as they met in the middle. Iris’s hands slid down and she splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat and Eris growled against her lips, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. 

His lips left hers and Iris was about to protest when his hands slid to wrap around her waist again and he kissed the corner of her mouth instead then slid to pepper her jawline with more. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her when his lips slid to her neck and his tongue darted out to taste. She bit her lip to hold back a groan as Eris’s mouth explored and he certainly had no qualms about the noises that slipped from his lips. 

“You have terrible timing.” he whispered into her skin and Iris’s grip tightened on him. “How am I going to endure this visit now that I’ve gotten a taste of you? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t want to lay you here and taste every inch of you, Iris?”

“I won’t apologize for giving you an excellent thank you gift.” she said breathlessly, her lips twitching when his head lifted from her neck to smirk at her. “You’ve only wanted it since you met me.”

“True.” he said quietly, his eyes holding the predatory gleam she knew so well. “I demand about a thousand more of them.”

The corner of her mouth curled up as Iris slid her hands around his waist and up his back, feeling every inch of his hard muscles through the layers of his clothing. Her eyes were glued to his as they stared at each other once more, the silence between them holding a steady, palpable tension. She wanted him closer, especially as his grip on her tightened again.

It was thrilling. To touch each other so openly, so easily. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself other than kiss him some more. Iris may have hesitated before but now — it seemed hard to resist. 

“I think I can manage that,” she whispered. “But we might be late.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Eris murmured and pressed his lips against hers again. And it wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was an ascension to heaven. 

Iris let out a soft whimper as Eris kissed her fiercely, their kiss a clash of fire. Heat like no other spread between them, their hearts ticking bombs, a volcano of emotions erupting; hands roaming, and suddenly, they couldn’t get close enough. It was an intensity she could barely process, could barely keep up with — but all Iris knew was this deep desire to stay wrapped in him. 

“Eris.” she breathed into him and then gasped when he pressed her firmly into him, feeling exactly how much he liked her lips on his. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans and every touch of his fingers sent a wave of pleasure that seemed to be unraveling her. She felt invigorated and Iris knew she was melting against him, knew she had become putty in his hands when she felt Eris’s smile against her lips.

“See what you’ve been missing, wife?” he murmured against her lips. 

“B-barely much.” she breathed and felt his chuckle tickle her lips as she leaned into him, unable to stop the constant need to have their lips meet. 

“Think of all the other places I will kiss you when we go home, ma —”

But Eris stiffened, the flame that had encased them immediately flaring out and Iris froze in his arms. Her brows furrowed in confusion until the sound of someone approaching became clearer and Eris’s entire demeanor changed. A blink was all it took for Eris’s face to fall back into the sneer he was known for. Another blink had Eris now in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, tension hardening the line of his shoulders as he faced away from her.

“What —”

“Helion may have granted me permission but that doesn’t mean I am always welcome whenever I visit.” he said quietly as the footsteps approached. His stance had hardly shifted but Iris knew he would be ready to strike. “If needed, you winnow right back —”

“Why would I leave?” Iris demanded. “I know how to fight! You taught me.”

“I know that.” he snapped as he looked at her over his shoulder. “But I’d rather wait to know what I’m up against before throwing my m — my wife into —” 

“No.” she objected, jutting out her chin. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, cutting himself off when her firm gaze met his and he shuddered. “You’re going to end up being my biggest source of anxiety, aren’t you?” he mumbled with a scowl as she shifted next to him.

“I don’t have to be.” she said with a quirked brow and Eris noted the way she was leaning into his side, staring up at him challengingly. “Don’t try and make this my fault.”

“If you insist on being stubborn all the time and not following directions, it will be.” he said through clenched teeth and flared nostrils, his gaze ravenous as he looked at her. 

Iris swallowed as she watched him but then narrowed her eyes in return, her hands sliding to her hips as she leaned in closer. “I’m happy to follow directions if they make sense and those directions are something I actually want to do.”

“You’re supposed to follow directions even if you don’t want to.” he retorted, his eyes now on her lips, inches away from his. “Especially if it concerns your safety.”

“I don’t think my safety would be jeopardized if I’m with you, husband.” Iris replied, though her tone had no heat in it as the closeness of him threatened to overwhelm her. 

Eris’s own eyes narrowed and he snorted softly. “Your safety would absolutely be jeopardized if you’re with me. Because you’re with me. Enough people dislike me to target you.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I have a knife then.” she shrugged, without losing his gaze.

“And an attitude of reckless endangerment. What an excellent combination,” he said, baring his teeth in a smile that would be threatening to most. Iris had to fight back the urge to kiss him all over again. 

“I can hold my own just fine.” she said firmly and hesitated before lowering her arms from her waist and gently placing a hand on his arm. “You should just listen to me and make things easy for yourself.” 

What Iris really wanted to say was, You’re my friend and my person. I don’t want to leave your side. Instead, she added, “Stop being an idiot.”

“I’m going to throttle you if you keep arguing with me over this.” he mused calmly, his hand coming to settle over hers without a single hesitation. “Your safety is non-negotiable.”

“Neither is yours.” she argued, and Eris tried not to roll his eyes. 

“You know I’ve fought in wars, yes? I will be fine.”

“You are a fool that is very close to getting stabbed.”

“I am a prince who most definitely does not want to get stabbed.”

“A prince that is a pain in the ass.”

“You are on thin ice with my patience, wife.” 

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it, husband?”

The two shared a breath as they seemingly forgot what the source of their argument was, too engrossed in staring at each other and fighting the urge to desperately touch again. Iris didn’t know if she had it in her to stop if they started again and Eris would definitely not be inclined to stop at all. 

Iris licked her lips. “If I kiss you again, will you relax?”

A soft smirk graced his face. “If you kiss me again, I will be the farthest thing possible from relaxed.”

“Hmm.” she mused. “I should definitely kiss you then. That’ll get you to shut up at least.”

“Maybe I should kiss you so you’d quit being so damn stubborn.”

Overwhelming need thumped through her veins as she stared at him and he stared at her. Had a simple kiss intensified whatever it was she was feeling now? It — it seemed ridiculous. Iris licked her lips again as she glanced at Eris, his gaze turning positively wicked. But as she opened her mouth to speak and put an end to this madness, another voice interrupted.

“If I wereanyone else, you’d both be very dead by now.”

Eris’s sword flew out faster than Iris could blink, his eyes never leaving his wife as Iris whipped her head at the sound of the stranger’s voice and found who could only be their gracious host glancing at them. 

And Lucien was very, very amused. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting what seemed to be a very charged argument, brother dear.”

Eris finally looked away from Iris to shoot his brother a glare as Lucien stood there, hands raised by his head and a knowing smirk on his face with Eris's sword at his throat. Eris spared Iris one more glance and squinted at the faint color gracing her lovely face, sensing her embarrassment. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you in the throat.” he said tightly, his body relaxing as he slowly sheathed his sword once more and scowled at his brother. 

“I’m so thrilled at your enthusiasm to see me.” Lucien said with a grin, lowering his arms. “Somehow, I knew it was you causing fires on the outskirts of my home.” 

“Ah, fuck off.” Eris said with a wave of his hand as Lucien chuckled and Iris fought back a smile.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you brothers have drawn swords at each other.” Iris said lightly.

“Look at his obnoxious face. How could I not?” Eris demanded and Lucien snorted.

“If anyone here has cause to stab someone, it would be me stabbing you for being rude all the time.” Lucien said, crossing his arms. “I know that note came from you, asshole.”

Iris’s lips twitched and Eris watched her curiously as she raised her hand. “I would like to say, legally speaking, I am the only one allowed to stab him at this point,” she said calmly. “But since you are his brother, I will allow it if you ask nicely.”

Lucien glanced at Iris and tilted his head. He silently observed her for a moment and then smiled. “We’ve only just met and I am certain we will be the best of friends.”

Iris smiled warmly and held out a hand. “Agreed.” she said. “Iris. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the only brother Eris admits to having. You must be so proud.”

Lucien took her hand with both of his hands and squeezed it. “Lucien. And the pleasure is all mine.” he replied with a grin. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since I heard about your engagement. You’ve been within choking distance of my brother on a daily basis. I am very jealous.”

“He is very chokeable, isn’t he?” Iris said and glanced at Eris, her lips twitching at the deep scowl on his face. 

And it was a deep scowl indeed because Eris — he was feeling too many things at the moment. The high of kissing her was wearing off and now — now it was starting to catch up to him. 

Frankly, he was going to start freaking the fuck out. 

He…he had a mate. His wife was his mate. And he’d fucken finally kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her some more and possibly slowly peel that damned dress off her — goodness knows he had made an art out of fucking outdoors that he knew Iris would enjoy it too — except of course, of course, his insufferable brother just had to interrupt.

He should’ve stabbed him when he had the chance. 

Eris glanced at Iris and Lucien as they chatted softly. He heard nothing of what they were saying, only watched their lips moving and his heart did a strange spasm at the sight. Two important people of his life smiling at each other, likely talking about him, finally meeting.

He had the strongest urge to vomit.

Squinting himself back to reality, Eris’s face heated at the sound of Iris laughing and the urge to strangle his brother skyrocketed when Lucien high-fived Iris. They already had inside jokes. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I am immediately objecting to this friendship.” he snapped then squinted at Lucien and pointed with one finger, his other hand clasping around Iris’s hand to tug her closer. “Keep your hands off my wife.”

Lucien rolled his eyes and then gave his brother a curious look. “Sensitive today, are we, brother?”

“One more word out of you and I’ll show you exactly how sensitive I can be.” he sneered and glanced down at Iris when she nudged his side.

She gave him a pointed look. “We just arrived. Be nice.”

“But I don’t like him.” Eris argued calmly and Iris rolled her eyes. 

“Should I tell him what you said to me the first time I asked you about him to debunk that statement?”

Eris’s eyes narrowed as he took in his beautiful wife’s teasing expression and gods, if Lucien wasn’t standing right there, he’d devour her. 

“I have no recollection of such a conversation,” he said haughtily then promptly turned to his brother. “Take us to your better half. I like her more than I like you.”

Lucien shot Eris a look that was too knowing for his own good; it was easy to see that Lucien already had so much he wanted to say and it made Eris want to winnow home and avoid the whole thing. As if sensing that one word from him would send Eris bolting, all Lucien did was wave a gracious hand and walk them towards his home. 

And now, they sat in Lucien and Elain’s home, trying to pretend the kiss and grand revelations hadn’t happened. Trying to pretend everything was fine and they hadn’t been interrupted. 

Desperately trying not to pounce on his wife.

Elain had given them such a warm welcome, Eris would forever be grateful to her for making Iris comfortable right away and he tried to focus, to pay attention to the conversation around them as his favorite people got to know each other. He nearly choked on his drink twice.

His mate.

Everything suddenly made so much sense.

And simultaneously, everything just got so much worse. 

He sensed Iris watching him and his hands tighten around his glass. She had no idea, did she? He wasn’t sure if Iris was actually aware of what Eris had figured out. He also hadn’t had a chance to really process what happened and it was all too much. He couldn’t look at her for too long — everything in him ached when he did. Was this what a mating bond was supposed to feel like? 

Someone that was all his own. Someone that was his in a way no one would ever be.

He hated it. This feeling of losing control. Having feelings at all.

Having a mate. 

Oh gods, he liked that more than he’d care to admit. 

He shot back his drink in one gulp then held out his glass that Lucien warily refilled. Iris gave him a bewildered look as she placed her own glass gently on the table then turned back to Elain and Lucien who were watching the two of them with barely contained amusement.

“You have such a beautiful home.” she finally said with a smile. “It’s so cozy and welcoming.”

“Thank you!” Elain said brightly. “Lucien and I really wanted a place that felt that way. Neither of us is much for fanfare.”

“If it was up to Helion, we would be living lavishly inside his obnoxious palace but he was nice enough to let us venture on our own here.” Lucien said with a chuckle.

“That’s very generous of him.” Iris commented. “I didn’t realize you had such a close relationship with him.”

Lucien stole a glance at a mute Eris who only glared at his brother and then gave Iris a small smile. “He has been incredibly good to us both.”

“Eris mentioned you play the piano beautifully.” Elain jumped in with a smile. “Lucien plays really well too! You two will have to play us a song together at some point.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Iris said, smiling widely, and glanced at Eris who still avoided looking at her. “I’d love that! This one has never offered.”

“That’s because he’s terrible at it.” Lucien said with a mischievous grin towards his brother. “Did Eris ever tell you about the one and only time he attempted to play the piano? He was so bad at it, that the instructor resigned almost immediately due to the levels of distress he caused.”

Iris raised her brows at her husband who rolled his eyes at the chuckles around him and finally spoke stiffly, “That idiot was terrible at his job, stuttering like an imbecile. How am I expected to learn to play the piano if his fingers were trembling all over the place?” he asked indignantly.

“As if a measly instructor could stand against the wrath of a tiny Eris.” Elain teased.

“You must’ve petrified him immediately,” Iris commented with a small smile and glanced his way. Eris licked his lips, his gaze flickering to Iris’s mouth and then back up at her eyes. 

“I like instilling fear. It gets people to do what I want much quicker.”

“I doubt that always works for you, does it?”

“There has ever only been one exception, wife.” he replied with a raised brow and Iris flushed, the atmosphere between them immediately tensing.

It took all of his willpower not to pounce on her instantly. He hadn't tasted anything he’d been offered since they arrived and if Lucien and Elain noticed the scent change, they were gracious enough not to show it. His mind kept wandering to what her skin would taste like. What she would look like when he had her splayed before him and spread those lovely thighs to —

He scowled immediately. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was more self-composed than this. Eris would not let himself become an imbecile just because they had kissed and happened to be mates. He stole a glance at his wife as she continued conversing with their hosts.

Mine.

His grip tightened on his glass. In a way, this reaction made absolute sense with the way they’d moved so carefully around each other before. Were they both that pathetic that kissing would seemingly destroy the self-control they had? 

Eris swallowed, ignoring another look from Lucien, focusing only on the drink in his hand. As long as Iris didn’t move too close to him or touch him, he would be fine. He could be composed. He was a Prince.

Who really, really, really wanted to kiss his wife again. And do many, many other things to her.

He stole another glance at Iris and immediately regretted it as she smiled at Lucien then much to his dismay, cautiously placed a hand on Eris’s thigh as she continued, “Eris mentioned you —”

She didn’t get a chance to finish the statement as the glass in his hand shattered and Iris’s head snapped towards her husband in shock.

A beat of silence passed then Eris glanced down at what remained of the glass in his hand and blinked up at his brother. “I think my drink was too strong.” he said lamely.

He shouldn’t have looked at her again but he did and swallowed as Iris’s mouth fell open then closed, baffled for a moment, her eyes flickering between his tense face and his now bleeding hand. She blanched at the sight.

“Are you alright?” Iris demanded and despite her tone, gently took his hand in hers to inspect it.

“I don’t think you should do that.” Eris said tightly. If she kept touching him, he would not make it through the rest of the day. 

“You’re bleeding.” she snapped. “You might have little pieces of glass stuck in your hand and I don’t want you to —”

“Iris — wait —”

“— I need to clean it and then —”

“Lucien.” Eris snapped, snatching his hand out of Iris’s grip, and glanced at his brother with wide eyes. “I need to walk off this drink.”

“I — okay.” Lucien said with a confused glance to his wife then shot his brother a bewildered look. “We can take a walk outside.” 

Iris frowned at her empty hands then looked up at Eris, annoyed. “Well, let me clean your hands first, Eris.”

“I can get something for that — “ Elain began but Eris cut everyone off as he stood abruptly.

“I need fresh air.” he said hoarsely and gestured to the shattered glass. “Nobody touch that. I will clean it.”

“Eris – “ Iris tried again but he whirled rather wildly towards her and she froze.

“Wife.” he rasped. “If I stay here for another moment, I will do something very, very stupid and will not have a single slither of regret. Now, if you will all excuse me, I will walk this drink off.”

And the three of them watched silently as Eris briskly exited the room.

Lucien paused for a moment and looked at Iris curiously as she stared after her husband in disbelief. 

“Well.” Elain blinked. “That was rather dramatic of him.”

“I can’t believe him.” she muttered then turned to Elain. “I’m so sorry for the mess. I don’t know what made that happen but let me go check on —.”

“I’ll go see what’s wrong.” Lucien interrupted gently. “He’s my brother. I can handle this.”

Iris took a step forward but paused as Lucien waved her off with a reassuring smile. She gave Lucien a tight smile in return as he left to follow Eris and bit her lip. He had — that was — she wasn’t sure what that was but Iris could only stand dumbfounded.

“That doesn’t mean they’re going to hit each other, does it?” Iris asked quietly after a moment, her eyes still searching for wherever Eris had escaped to. 

“Maybe, but it’s all done lovingly,” Elain said and Iris turned to find her holding back a laugh. “Being affectionate with each other makes them nauseous.”

“Not surprising in the slightest.” Iris said then shook her head with a sigh, holding out her hands. “I’m sorry if things are…tense.”

Elain’s lips twitched. “Don’t even worry about it…first meetings and all.” she began gently. “Did something happen before you came? You seem to be worried about him.”

Iris flushed instantly and looked away from Elain towards the door Eris had exited from. 

Did something happen? Why, yes. She had finally kissed her husband and had been about two seconds away from climbing him like a tree. Iris bit her lip and glanced at Elain who encouragingly patted Iris’s arm. 

“Don’t feel pressured to say anything. I just want to make you feel comfortable.”

Iris groaned. “You’re so nice. I’m sorry we’re being — whatever this is.” she immediately said, waving a hand and Elain laughed.

“It’s fine! You have no idea how strange it is to see Eris with a wife.”

“You have no idea how strange it is being Eris’s wife.” she said with a huff of laughter. “He’s so…. ridiculous. What kind of exit was that!”

“He’s always been that way.” Elain said with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried. I’m definitely going to choke him later for this.”

Elain raised a brow then smiled knowingly. “Will you? You seemed very concerned a few moments ago.”

Iris blinked then as calmly as possible said, “I can’t stand him actually.”

“You’re about to break your neck to see him through the window.”

“I want to break his neck,” Iris replied, momentarily distracted when she saw her husband pass by said window. She could tell he was frustrated by his pacing and it made her tense. Was he — was he truly upset by the timing of their kiss? She knew he liked it but something — something had shifted his thought process. Iris had hardly been given a moment to really think it all through, but Eris seemed ready to launch himself into the sun.

It was just a kiss. A kiss that felt so…right. At least for her. 

Iris narrowed her eyes at the open window even though Eris hadn’t passed by it again. Had she done something wrong? Was it bothering him that she was friendly with Lucien after all the jokes she made about him? She blinked. That couldn’t be it. He had been looking forward to them being friends.

“Yes, that is the exact look someone has when they want to break someone’s neck.” Elain said with a laugh and Iris turned back to her sister-in-law. She gave Elain a sheepish smile and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Again, I’m sorry.” she said quietly, her fists clenching then unclenching. “We had a…difficult morning before coming here and then had a bit of a moment right before we came —”

“Yes, Lucien mentioned something about that.” Elain said and Iris’s face flushed again at the grin on her face. She opened her mouth then closed it, brows furrowed.

“How?” she then demanded. “He was with us the whole time.”

“Mating bond,” was all Elain offered then giggled at Iris’s indignant expression. “I have to say, I’m very happy that you two seem to be getting along well.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I wanted to break his neck?” 

Which, of course, was a lie anyone could see right through. Iris wanted to kiss his neck maybe. See how he liked it if Iris decided to get a taste of him the way he had teased her outside.

“Getting along very well, it seems.” Elain said and Iris was mortified to realize the scent of the room had changed. 

“Oh gods.” came her response and Elain let out a hearty laugh as Iris covered her face. “I’m so sorry. This is disgusting. We just met — I’m in your home — this is absolutely his fault for behaving like a —”

Elain only patted her back sympathetically and tried not to laugh again. “Please, don’t apologize. This is extremely amusing.” she said. “Besides, I lived with my sister and her mate for a while. I’ve learned to very quicklytune out anything I don’t wish to see, smell, or hear.”

Iris pursed her lips, squinting at Elain who poorly attempted to hide her glee.

“To be fair, this is our first time out in public where we can be comfortable with each other.” Iris muttered, fingers smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “Usually, we have to pretend I’m a doormat and he’s a maniac.”

“Oh, I understand.” Elain said with a snort, “Try to pretend you don’t want to jump his bones while your sisters and their friends are all in one room.” 

Iris tilted her head curiously. “Eris mentioned you and Lucien took time to get to know each other.” 

Elain smiled down at her hands. “I had a hard time coming to terms with turning fae and getting a mate all in one breath.” she said and glanced at Iris. “Once I let myself give Lucien a chance, it was a whole different battle trying not to have everyone else know I wanted him just by being in the same room.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted at Elain’s expression. “I bet Lucien enjoyed that.”

“He kept behaving like a true gentleman which only made me feel like a wild woman desperate to get his clothes off.”

Iris laughed then gave Elain a pointed look, thinking of every moment her husband had said the most scandalous things to her. “Yeah, no. Eris is just a heathen. Nothing gentlemanly there.”

Elain snorted. “Sure.” she teased. “Judging by the glass all over my floor, I’d say he’s struggling a lot more than you think.”

At the reminder, Iris rubbed a hand to her forehead, roses blooming on her cheeks. He had been right. Kissing him right before this visit had been a terrible idea. Now she wanted to hurtle herself into the sun. 

“I should go check on him.” she said quietly, giving Elain a small smile. “As much as I want to punch him in the face much of the time, I — I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Elain’s gaze softened and she shared Iris’s smile. “He’ll be fine, Lucien pushes his buttons but he’ll make sure Eris is okay.”

Iris nodded slowly, her gaze back towards the open window where she could see Eris and Lucien talking in the distance. She had to fight back the urge to follow him and instead turned back to Elain, who was watching her with that same smile.

Flushing, Iris let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. This is all…” she started and waved a hand. “Very new for me.” 

Elain chuckled. “I’ll bet.” Her sister-in-law watched her for a moment then spoke gently, “He’s been very lonely, you know.” she said. “He pretends otherwise but…I think he’s needed someone like you for a long while now.” 

Iris felt her smile slowly slide off her face and she glanced down at her hands. 

“Eris always says how we’re two sides of the same coin,” she began in a low voice. “The more time I spend with him, the more I see how much we work well together. How much we…match.”

Even if it scared the living shit out of her.

“It didn’t start off that way though, did it.” Elain said, the corner of her mouth ticking up.

Iris shook her head and said softly, “No, it did not…but I think we were meant to find each other. Unpleasant circumstances aside, I…am glad for it.” She licked her lips and tugged gently at her ear. “I’m assuming he, uh, mentioned how we got married.”

“He might have.” Elain said slyly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“He comes by here often enough, doesn’t he?” she asked with a chuckle as she glanced around the home. “My beautiful flowers are always from you.” 

Elain laughed and reached out to squeeze Iris’s hand. “I hope that’s okay.” she said gently. “I’m always so happy he feels comfortable sharing with Lucien and me. They haven’t had it easy. We’ve gotten a lot closer.”

Elain gave Iris a warm smile as she continued, “Despite the rough start you two had, I’m glad he has you to shake him up and get him out of the mold everyone keeps trying to shove him in.” she said. “You see him. And he needs that more than anything. He isn’t used to kind or gentle and Eris may not want that all the time but he certainly needs it.”

Kindness. Iris thought about that word and what her mother-in-law had told her.

“You and Lady Enya share similar thoughts.” 

“She is our mother-in-law and we both strongly disliked her sons at first.” Elain said with a wink. “This wouldn’t be the first time she’s dealt with this.” 

Iris let out a chuckle, smoothing down her dress again. “The last thing I ever expected was Eris Vanserra to be kind to me.” she said quietly. “It’s been so…unexpected.”

Elain smiled knowingly. “I felt so wary of Lucien at first. I didn’t want anything to do with him.” she said then shrugged as her smile turned fond. “But we were meant to find each other too. He was my mate for a reason and despite the circumstances of our meeting, Lucien was one of the best things that happened to me.”

A mate. Gods, Iris thought. She had gone into this marriage barely wanting a husband but now…she not only had a husband, but a friend. She wondered if…would it be silly to think that Eris could be her mate? The intensity between them would certainly make sense but…mates were equals in some way and Eris…well, she certainly was not on equal footing. 

He was the son of a High Lord. She was the daughter of a fiend. 

A shitty father was the common denominator between them but…he was still hers now. Her husband.

And her shitty father couldn’t take that away from her.

The word mine flashed through her mind.

She pursed her lips and rubbed at her forehead gently. Too much was happening so fast. Too many emotions, too many feelings. Iris wasn’t so sure she was ready for everyone to know exactly how she was feeling. Until she felt brave enough to figure it out.

“I…tolerate him.” she finally said and Elain rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Right.”

Iris gave her sister-in-law a pointed look, changing the subject. “He speaks so highly of you. I want to know more about you and Lucien. I’d love to know what it’s been like to live in this court.”

“And know more about Eris too, I presume?” Elain asked and it was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes at the suggestive look on her sister-in-law’s face.

“If you’d like to share.” Iris said casually. “I guess it would be interesting to know what he’s like through your eyes.” 

“You guess, huh?” Elain asked with a wiggle of her brow and Iris’s lips twitched.

“I wouldn’t say no to whatever you decided to share.” she said with an air of indifference and Elain laughed.

“The first time I was in direct contact with him after the war was at a ball.” Elain began with a grin. “We didn’t even speak to each other, we just observed each other from a distance. I think he was trying to scope me out and tell Lucien about me.” She rolled her eyes with another fond smile. “He ended up proposing to my sister that evening.”

“Did he now?” Iris asked with as light of a tone as possible. She would not get jealous of something that happened before her time or of Elain’s mysterious sister who had to be magnificent to get a reaction like that from Eris. Nope, she would not be jealous at all.

Elain froze. “Had he not mentioned that?” she squeaked and Iris snorted.

“No, but I am very intrigued,” she said. “Please Elain, don’t hold back now.” 

Like a deer caught in the wild, Elain blinked rapidly as her cheeks turned pink and Iris couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I think I should stop talking.” Elain said promptly.

“And I think we should take a walk in your beautiful garden that Eris is always raving about and make fun of my husband.” Iris said with a pointed look. “You’re the only one I can get true intel from, Elain.”

Elain groaned, covering her face with her hands which only made Iris smile. “I shouldn’t have said anything! I feel terrible!”

Iris chuckled and nudged her with a shoulder. “There’s nothing to feel terrible about. This was before my time and besides, you really expect Eris to tell me about something like that?” she said with an eye roll. “Eris sharing anything is like him trying to pass a kidney stone the size of a building.” 

Elain snorted and then doubled over laughing. “Oh, you! I like you.” she said and then gave her a sly look. “You’re right. Let’s take a walk and get to know each other better. I’ll spill some secrets while we’re at it that you absolutely did not get from me.”

Looping an arm through Elain’s, Iris patted her hand. “Secrets? What secrets?” Iris said airily. “We’re just going to take a walk and you’re going to tell me all about your lovely garden.”

“Of course.” Elain agreed with a serious nod. “Nothing about your husband, of course.”

“Naturally. Talking about him is nauseating.”

Elain let out a laugh and shook her head. “Yes, so nauseating you can’t keep your eyes off him for a moment.” 

And indeed, the moment Iris stepped outside, her eyes locked in on her husband and his pacing once more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

[risingsunresistance]

ugh

[syneilesis]

[fic] Coffee Break

Coffee Break

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words ao3 link

You buy Xavier a new coffee machine.

A/N: I am so in love with this man. Day 2 of the closed beta test and here I am writing fic lmao. God, I love Shen Xinghui so much. This fic is inspired by his Shimmering Sunlight story. Some spoilers about the main storyline and character-exclusive stories, though nothing too significant. Though I frequently refer to his CN name in my other posts, in this fic I use his EN version -- Xavier.

The box is light in your hands, but the salesperson assured you that weight does not equate to quality. Price, too—because although the Hunters Association is generous with their pay, you don't want to raise flags by taking missions incessantly. Tara's nose for intrigue, of course, is well-known among your circles.

It would be all the worse if Xavier gets in on the gossip too. (You'd have to thank the stars for the man's indifference to workplace drama—and to most in general. Xavier may be airheaded at times but when he's focused on something he is monstrously focused on it. It's impressive, and—well—cute.)

The recommended beans are secured inside your messenger bag. You don't call Xavier this time to give him a heads up. He had, a few days ago, granted you the privilege to enter his home whenever you like, his hand tracing the book spines on the shelf, all the while saying it. He wasn't looking at you, but his tone remained light, playful even, that it prompted you to tease him by pointing out that if he merely wanted an efficient alarm clock, he could just buy one of those state-of-the-art ones sold in major stores. That's when Xavier whirled around to look at you, mirth in his eyes but with a secretive, scheming tilt on his lips.

“I'm coming in,” you announce, regardless, by the door, pushing it in with one hand, and Xavier's voice floats across the hall.

“You're really taking advantage of this, huh.”

“Well, a wise man once said that one must seize every opportunity given their way.”

Xavier emerges from a room in all his cardigan-and-sweatpantsed glory, hair mussed enough to indicate that he's just risen from his bed.

“Good morning!” you chirp.

He glances at the clock—two in the afternoon—and eyes the box in your hands. The caution—and curiosity—is obvious in the lilt of his question. “What's that?”

“For you.”

He takes the proffered item and inspects like it'll explode at any moment. You sigh and retrieve it again, and he follows you when you make your way to the kitchen.

“I already have a coffee machine,” he says, confused, as you begin to clean the gift.

“And it brews bitter coffee.” You spare a glance at him to find that he's watching you. You tap the lid of the machine. “This is a more recent and an undeniably better model.”

“I don't recall asking you to buy one for me.”

“That's because you didn't.” There's a pause where you deliberate telling him your next sentence and facing him directly as you say it. You go for it, in the end. “It's a gift. This is a gift from me to you.”

It doesn't register to him at first—it's as if he's waiting for an explanation that requires the mention of Captain Jenna's orders. But after a blink and a shuffle, it clicks, his eyes widening and he's fully awake all of a sudden.

And when he responds, it seems urgent: “What's the occasion?”

You shake your head. “Nothing—or rather, it's the occasion for drinking good coffee.” The coffee beans make their appearance. “Go sit on the sofa or something while I work this thing out.”

Xavier chuckles. “What—now you're ordering me in my own home?”

“And making you good coffee!”

“You're a guest—even I know that it's rude to have the guest make food or drinks for the owner of the house.”

“It's fine! And besides, I'd like to test this out as soon as possible. Refund and exchange policy only lasts for seven days from the date of purchase. I'd want to know if this works just fine.”

Xavier attempts to protest a little more, but you hold firm. Once he trudges back to the living room, you concentrate on the coffee. The salesperson seemed trustworthy enough when pitching the product, and you really can't forget the time Xavier served you a cup of bitter coffee. Not even three sugar cubes could salvage that unholy concoction.

When it's done, the heavenly aroma wafting along your nose, you test a sip from your own mug. It's a success. Placing the mugs on a tray, you head to where Xavier is.

He's reading a book. Though 'reading' seems to be a stretch because his head bobs twice, his eyelids drooping, the edge of a nap threatening his posture.

“Xavier,” you call him, and his head snaps back to attention. You bite your lip to stave off a laugh. Sitting next to him on the sofa, you put the tray on the table and hand him his own cup. “Try this one.”

A sniff and a tentative sip. And then he hums in approval, now drinking it normally. You smile around the rim of your mug, your eyes falling on his book.

“This is good,” he comments, wearing a smile of his own when he turns to you. “Did you use another kind of coffee beans?”

“Yep. The salesman recommended me another one, and it was the right decision. By the way, why are you reading an instruction manual on building a claw machine?”

“It's nothing,” he says, swiping the item away. There's another book on the table—a collection of short stories—and he snatches that up instead. You recognize the title.

“Oh! I've read that before.”

“Is it good? I haven't read it yet.”

“Yes. I particularly loved the titular story. The suspense buildup was done skillfully and the payoff was perfect.”

“I see, then I look forward to starting it.”

Surprisingly, Xavier begins reading it then and there, occasionally sipping his coffee and turning the page. You, beside him, are minding your own cup, thoughts drifting here and there. Your next mission. New strategies in battle. Your next appointment with Dr. Zayne.

It's when a weight has plopped down your shoulder that you jolt out of your musings: Xavier falling asleep on your shoulder, mug empty, the coffee residues pooling at the bottom, book opened in the chapter of your favorite story.

“Xavier?” you murmur, careful not to startle him if he's truly asleep.

He doesn't stir—only burrows further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, the puffs of his breath close and warm against your skin.

It would've been cruel to push him away, not when he looks comfortable. And besides, you're afforded an opportunity to study him—so you let him as he is.

From your angle, staring down at his sleeping face, you note of his eyelashes, long and thick and seemingly soft, slightly curved upwards, hovering over his smooth cheeks. They frame the blueness of his eyes very well. They make him even prettier under daylight. You're reminded of the time you and he strolled under the blooming peach blossoms, the pink backdrop highlighting the radiance of his presence, statuesque. He as sublime art itself, rivaling that of Rafayel's paintings—or better yet, surpassing them. And when he smiles—

Unbidden, heat crawls across your cheeks and settles there. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

Oh dear, this won't do.

You swallow, and turn away. Against your neck, Xavier sleeps on, unaware of your unfurling realizations. By the window, a familiar bird perches, twittering under the afternoon sun, a small but melodious background song.

[sinkovia]

Fluff idea!!!!!!

Hear me out:

Reader adopts two cats, Price has to deal with them :3

I jus think it'll be fun

I THINK PRICE WOULD HAVE SO MUCH BEEF WITH THE CATS LMAO. Only at first though, I feel like he would slowly start warming up to them after realizing they could be sweet and not act like giant New York street rats.

As you enter the pet store to grab some bird feed for your front porch hummingbird feeders, you find yourself drawn to the area near the adoption center. You heard the sound of soft mewing as you approached, and two feline faces peered out from a cage, their eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Reading the tag, you discovered that they were a girl and boy duo who had just arrived at the store yesterday. Found in a box outside, they looked a bit worse for wear, and the tag mentioned that they were the last ones left for adoption. Unable to resist the pull of compassion, you decided to get a closer look.

One of the cats, the more adventurous of the two, cautiously approached. You extended your hand through the bars, and the cat sniffed it curiously before rubbing the top of its head against your palm. A wave of affection swept over you as you felt the soft fur under your fingers.

The two kitties had tugged at your heartstrings, and you knew you couldn't leave them behind. Your excitement grew, and with a sense of purpose, you started looking for a store worker to inquire about the adoption process. The idea of providing a loving home for them made your trip to the pet store even more fulfilling than you had anticipated.

The front door creaked open, and you slipped inside with a cardboard box cradled carefully in your arms. John, engrossed in something on the TV, glanced your way as he heard the door but didn't pay it much mind until he saw you with the box.

"What's in the box?" curiosity etched on his face.

"Nothing," you replied with a sly smile, but just as you spoke, a soft meow emanated from the box. John raised an eyebrow, immediately skeptical.

"No, you didn't," he declared with a knowing look as the meows continued. You winced slightly, rubbing your stomach, and with a dramatic expression, "Ooo wow, must have been that food I ate earlier. I'm so gassy,"

The meows persisted, growing louder, and you paused. Caught in the act, you couldn't suppress your smile. John just shook his head, laughing at your attempt at secrecy. You kneeled down, letting them out of the box. They slowly peeked their heads out one after the other.

“You got two? love.” You quickly picked one up, holding him up in front of John’s face.

“Look how cute they are hun. This one is Chucky and that one is Tiff. It’s short for Tiffany.” He smiled seeing how excited you were.

As days passed, John's initial amusement turned into exasperation when he found himself facing the challenges that came with the new additions to the family. The first encounter was during a flea bath. Attempting to help, he found himself in a comical struggle as Chucky scratched him when he wriggled in his arms.

"You bloody spawn of the devil!" John exclaimed as he ran up his arm and scratched down his back. Losing his balance, he stumbled foward, ending up in the tub, now covered in cat hair.

You quickly put Tiff down, “Oh my god are you okay?” you helped him out of the tub and left to get a towel. He huffed, glaring at Chucky lick his paw on the bathroom counter as if nothing happened.

Nighttime snuggling became a distant memory as the cats took their positions on either side of you, leaving no room for John to join in. He would glare at them as they slept peacefully, snuggled and warm next to you, and all he could do was shake his head, muttering about "bloody spawns of the devil."

The next morning, as John stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug, he saw Chucky eyeing him from the counter. He scowled at him.

"You're like a rat, you know that?" he muttered, shooting a glare at him. "You think you can snuggle up next to my wife and kick me to the curb? You're a little devil spawn."

Your head peeked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised. "Did you say something?"

John casually took a step back from the cat, "No, love. Nothing at all." when you left he took a sip of his coffee glaring at Chucky who just slowly blinked at him.

One afternoon, during John's focused work, the duo darted through the house, leaving chaos in their wake as they knocked over his coffee mug. While John sighed in frustration, you got up chasing after them. Catching one of the troublemakers, you held him up to John's face.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on your paperwork, I promise it won't happen again," you voiced the imaginary apology on behalf of Chucky. John initially wore an unamused expression until you peeked your head from behind the feline, revealing an apologetic smile. The tension melted, and a reluctant grin spread across John's face.

In the days that followed, the cats, undeterred by John's attempts to shoo them away, found his legs to be irresistible scratching posts. Persistent and curious, they continued their mischief, extending their claws despite John's efforts to maintain a sense of composure.

On one particular night, as John lay on his back, Tiff decided to make herself comfortable. She stretched luxuriously before gracefully climbing onto his chest, kneading his stomach with her paws. After a few rounds of kneading, she curled into a ball, settling on his chest. John huffed out a sigh, feeling the weight of the feline on him. Her large, puffy tail occasionally swiped across his nose, prompting him to turn his head to the side. However, her tail still managed to find its way toward him, eliciting a sneeze or two and a touch of irritation to the otherwise peaceful night.

John couldn't deny the joy the cats brought to the household. John found himself growing attached to the mischievous pair. The initial resistance transformed into reluctant acceptance, and before long, he was reaching for them to scratch behind their ears and indulging them in their nightly cuddle sessions. The stray cats had not only found a home but had also carved out a special place in John's heart.

╭∩╮( •̀_•́ )╭∩╮ << Price to Chucky when reader isn't looking.

[enhafilthandfiction]

$ex Tape - Sim Jake

A/N : Hi Anon, your brain is so good for this, this literally screams Jake. Ik for a fact that this boy would want to make a sex tape lmao, istg he's a sex symbol to me. Anyway, happy reading! :)

Synopsis : Jake has been begging you to film a porn tape, but you didn't expect him to film when you were having a quickie. What happens when his friends come back home to find you having sex on the living room couch, and even worse, filming a sex tape?

Pairing : Bf!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : kissing, make outs, quickie, fingering, filming you two having sex, unprotected sex, withdrawal, voyeurism.

Word Count : 1,600 Words

Masterlist

Your very risky, horny boyfriend Jake has been begging you to make a sex tape for a while now, claiming that making your own porn was so hot. Every time, you would think about it but you were always a little unsure. Until all his begging started to get annoying.

"Fine. We'll film it next time we have sex" you announced, looking at his beaming smile of happiness. Sometimes he acted like a kid who constantly whines until they get their candy.

"Yeahh, promise?" he asked you with that big smile, holding out his pinky finger at you.

You roll your eyes. "Promise" you also put out your pinky finger, him intertwining it with yours before leaning in to give you a hug and place a little sneaky kiss on your neck.

What you didn't know was however, is that the next time you two had sex, it was a quickie against time, before his friends came back home.

It started by you sitting in his lap for a nice hug until he started kissing you and your neck, a simple kiss turning into a heated make out session on the main couch.

"Please Y/n, it'll be quick I promise" he pleads, begging you to fuck him on the living room couch before his friends come back.

"Jake, they're coming back in a little less than half an hour!" you whine, trying to shake your head no, but deep down, you knew how irresistible he was and that you were going to give in.

He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you knew he was was hard. Fuck, you couldn't embarrass him like that in front of his friends or letting him down by making him take care of it himself. "Fine" you roll your eyes, pulling off your top.

He smiles widely and reaches for his phone which was somewhere on the couch as well. He opens the camera and places it at the end of the couch the camera facing you both and your position. You almost forgot about the promise you made him, sighing when you realised he wanted to film the porn tape now.

You shut your mouth and hoped it was gonna be quick, not wanting to risk the others finding you fucking, and even worse, making a sex tape. But Jake on the other hand, loved it. He loved the risk and it egged him on even more.

"Ready?" he asked you before pressing the play button to start recording. "Ready" you reply, trying to make it as quick as possible. He presses play and looks up at you with a cheeky smile one last time before leaning up to kiss your lips, his hands finding your bare hips.

His top was already off, haven removed it way before you came up to him since it was getting hot lately. He just needed to get your panties off and slide his down. "Get up for me baby" he whispers, his low husky voice ringing in your ears.

You get up and let him slide your panties down, eagerly pulling you back on him. Once you're back on him with his legs between your knees, his hand instantly snakes down to between your body, feeling your wetness before spreading it to your clit, rubbing messy cirlces.

"Fuck you're so wet" he points out, licking his lips "You like this don't you? the guys barging in hm? watching you take my cock like a good slut?" he teases, not really expecting them to be home that early, since Heeseung usually buys the whole ramen isle when they go shopping.

All you can do is whimper above him as he slides in one of his nimble fingers into your tight cunt and hear as he hums out at your warmth. "F-fuck Jake" you moan out, forgetting about the stupid video he's recording, the pleasure getting overwhelming.

"Yeah? Feels good?" he asks, looking up at your pleasured face which already gives him an answer. You nod your head vigorously, biting your lips as he fingers you at a quicker pace. When he feels you clenching tighter around him, he just removes his fingers, watching you frown at the loss of contact.

He easily lifts you up by your waist just to slide down his sweats along with his boxer briefs before lowering you back on his thigh. His cock springs up, almost slapping against his abs, before he gives it a few strokes, grunting at the feeling.

He fists his cock a few more times before looking up at you expectedly with a smug grin on his face. "C'mon baby, ride me" he orders, putting his hands to his sides and leaving it up to you.

You shakily lift your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and aligning it with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it, the thickness stretching you out so well. "F-fuckkk" you breathe out, trying to adjust for a second.

He wastes no time grabbing your ass, moving you up and down his cock. "Yeah, show them how well you can take it" he says, referring to the viewers who will be watching the video. Probably not anyone but himself to masturbate with it, he's too possessive to send a video of you getting fucked to anyone.

"Fuck yeah, just like that baby, you're doing so well" he tips his head back, focusing on the pleasure of your tight, wet pussy gripping and clenching around his dick like that.

With his hands on your ass he can easily move you up and down, fucking you on him, rather than letting you ride him. He gets lost in pleasure and so do you, losing track of time. You don't acknowledge the fact that the video's already about 20 minutes long and suddenly..

"We're bac- fuck" Heeseung's words are cut off when he notices the scene infront of him. Right in the living room on the main couch which was almost at the entrance.

"You have got to be kidding me" Sunghoon deadpans as Jay makes his way over to the couch to see what the guys are seeing. With the shopping bags long forgotten, they gather around the couch, thankful that despite their appearances, Jake kept going.

"You little shit" you whisper in his ear, your burning face hidden in the crook of his neck, shy of the guy's attentive stares. Jake loves the fact that he's the only one getting pussy, the other having to desperately palm themselves over their jeans, not being able to do anything.

They notice Jake's phone recording and share glances between each other, thinking that you two had an only fans account or something. Jake smirks to himself, fucking harder up into you, making you moan into his neck.

"J-Jake fuckkk" you try to muffle into his neck but it's for nothing because they all heard you and felt jealous of him, gripping their hardening cocks through their jeans.

"Yeah baby, tell them who's fucking you this good, let them hear you moan my name" he bites his lips as he feels you becoming tighter around him, indicating you're close. He also loved the way his friends were almost moaning messes, desperately wanting to jerk themselves off but also wanting to be respectful.

"Fuck Jake, grope her tits" none other than Heeseung desperately said. Jake looks up at you before sliding his hands up your waist to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing them in his palms. He could've sworn he saw Heeseung cum in his pants at the sight.

"Jakey I'm cumming!" you warned, him agreeing to your statement. "Me too baby, s-shit" he informs you, thrusting up into you a few more times before pulling out and jerking himself off, cumming on your tummy and tits for all of them to see.

"Fuckk" he moaned out one last time before leaning back against the couch, hands still holding your waist with your face still hidden in his neck. "So good" he praises "You did so well for me, doll"

Sunghoon suddenly bent over the couch to grab Jake's phone, stopping the video. "Sooo, how much are you selling this tape for?" he asks, referring to the video, wanting to buy it and watch it.

"It doesn't matter, I'm willing to pay anything, send it to me" clarifies Heeseung from the other side of the couch.

"Guys, you've all seen in it first person why do you need the video?" Jay questions as if they were dumb.

"To re-watch it?" they say almost together.

You and Jake giggle realising how awkward this is. "Can you guys get the fuck out so we can dress up? Please?" he asks the guys, his face turning red.

"Geez, next time you should get a room" Heeseung says, not meaning it since if you did get a room, he wouldn't be able to witness porn on the main couch. "Yeah, save yourself some embarrassment" Sunghoon continues, also making his way out of the living room.

When they were all out, you lightly slapped Jake on his bicep, scolding him for this and telling him that you were right all along. "I told you that they'd catch us!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms. "They probably think we're a horny couple with a twitter account or only fans now" you pout, looking down in shame.

"That's because we are, Honey" he confirms "A very horny couple indeed, and we will be starting a twitter account" he smiles proudly like its the best idea he's ever come up with. "Wanna show you off online, make more people jealous of me you know?"

"Jake, you're really stupid sometimes"

Hiii, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! sorry for not posting yesterday, I had a fever fever, fever, fever. Anyways, have a good day/night and remember that ily <333

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

lmao idk if this is even any good but all i want is levi ackerman taking care of me during the times that my brain's being mean to me :(

Who You Are | Levi Ackerman Hurt/Comfort Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.7k ✧ notes ➼ hurt/comfort, negative self-talk, levi being comforting in his levi way, explicit descriptions of depression (specifically the catatonia)

You could tell it was another one of those days.

You weren't surprised, but you sure were disappointed. You had gone to bed telling yourself that today would be better, that this recent episode had finally passed.

Your body felt heavy, like you could barely move. Even adjusting the blanket when you got too warm, and peeling your eyes open to check to time felt as effortful as dragging an oversized briefcase up the flight of stairs to your apartment when the elevator was down.

Now that you thought about it, you noted that the briefcase might actually be easier than this.

Not only did you feel heavy, but you also felt numb. You were barely present and you felt like the world was passing by around you, as if you were an outsider simply watching. You could likely receive devastating news and not feel a single thing.

You couldn't get yourself to cry. Oh how you wished that you could finally cry.

Getting up was impossible. You felt like your bladder was going to explode. The bathroom was only a few steps away—but you couldn't get yourself to move.

You were miserable. Getting up was miserable. Lying in bed was miserable. Falling asleep was miserable. Everything was just miserable.

Things had been getting better for a while. You would convince yourself that it was over, that you had finally 'beaten' your depression, that you were on the right meds, doing the right things, taking care of yourself, and practicing all of your therapy skills.

Then out of nowhere, it'd hit like a truck. The monster known as depression would engulf you in the blink of an eye, and you'd find yourself suddenly confined to the four walls of your bedroom, wrapped inside your blanket as if you were in a cocoon, begging to yourself and counting down the seconds until the depressive episode passed.

Sometimes it did. Other times it didn't.

You peaked one eye out of the blanket as you heard the door to the bedroom open, watching as your boyfriend sat down next to you.

"Rough day?" Levi's voice was gentle and quiet. He had seen you like this for the past few days, so he wasn't all that surprised when he came home and noticed that you were still in bed.

You buried your face into the blanket, ashamed to tell him that you've yet to actually get up even though it was late into the afternoon.

Levi's eyes scanned your body, noticing that your hair was still messy, and that you were still wearing the clothes that you had gone to sleep in the previous night. His gaze wandered towards your nightstand, seeing that the water he had left out for you that morning was untouched, which likely meant that you couldn't get yourself to take your meds for the day.

His eyes furrowed together with concern. Although he wanted to, he knew that asking you about if you had taken your meds or grabbed a bite to eat was just going to make you feel worse.

"Wanna go on a drive with me?" he finally spoke up, gently lowering the blanket away from your face so he could see you better. "Gotta pick something up from the office."

You remained silent as he cupped your cheek with his hand, gently running his thumb across your cheek.

You did usually enjoy your drives with him, even if it didn't feel like it right now.

"You don't even have to change. Take the blanket with you if you wanna keep being a burrito."

You saw the edge of his lips slightly tug up as he playfully commented on your cocoon. If you were feeling better, you'd chuckle with him, but you instead just stuck your bottom lip out in a small pout.

Still, a pouty look in your eyes was better than an empty one. That counted as progress.

"...it'll get dirty," you finally spoke up, your voice hoarse from the fact that you hadn't had a drink of water since the night before.

"We have other blankets," Levi reasoned. "Take the fucking blanket."

~~~~~

You compromised and brought the throwover blanket from the couch with you instead. You were surprised that you had the energy to make the swap instead of just dragging yourself out with the duvet that had been providing you shelter for a few days straight.

Levi had said he needed something from his office, but you knew he was lying. It was likely that whatever he needed to grab wasn't actually that important and could've waited until after the weekend. You knew he was already busy enough as is, which only resulted in you feeling terrible about the fact that he was putting in extra time and effort to attempt to help you feel better.

You sat in comfortable silence as he drove, with you snuggled up in the blanket on the passenger's seat. Your chair was reclined enough so that you were leaning backwards, but were still sitting. The gentle hum of the car helped provide some comfort, although it was barely noticeable.

You eventually looked over at him as he pulled to a stop. You were now at the drive-thru at the local cafe. You listened passively as Levi ordered himself a fresh cup of Earl Grey, shaking your head when he glanced over at you to see if you wanted something.

Levi placed his tea in his cupholder and then placed a small cup of yogurt in yours, indicating that it was there for you if you could get yourself to eat without making you feel too pressured if you couldn't.

When the car came to a stop again, you sighed. He had driven the two of you to the park where you first met and a slight hint of light appeared in your eyes as you were able to pull up the happy memory despite the depressive funk you currently found yourself in.

The back windows of the car were cracked open to let in some fresh air. While you had a brief moment of respite upon seeing that you were at the park, the thoughts of inadequacy quickly returned, swirling in your head like a storm that refused to let up.

Levi looked over at you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion once he heard you mumble an apology.

"For what?"

Your voice was barely audible and you weren't even looking at him as you spoke. He vaguely heard you say something about being useless.

Noticing that he wasn't responding, you looked up at him, seeing a look in his eyes that resembled one of exasperation, but not quite so. The expression communicated that while he wasn't expecting the comment at this moment, he wasn't surprised by it either.

"Is that you," he began, poking at your forehead, "or that little voice in your head talking?"

Your lips downturned into a pout, both at his question and the way that he was reacting. You knew that he was being gentler since he knew that you weren't in the headspace for his usual commentary. While Levi Ackerman was not one to sugarcoat and say things for the sake of appearing affectionate alone, he also wasn't a dick. He wasn't going to put more distress on you when you already felt like you were drowning.

"You're not useless," he eventually said with a sigh. "I know that feels like a wild concept right now, so you don't have to believe it—but you're here."

He gestured towards your body, including the blanket that was wrapped around you.

"You dragged your ass out of bed and into this car despite feeling like shit," he continued, "and don't start with saying that I forced you because I didn't. You did that on your own."

The little things counted, even if it really was just moving from laying down in bed to sitting in the passenger seat of Levi's car.

"...'m sorry for being a burden," you whispered.

"You're not," Levi interjected, barely allowing you to finish your sentence. "Even if you were, I love you for who you are, not just what you can do or accomplish."

He leaned forward once he noticed that you weren't responding and grabbed onto your hand, gently shaking you to get your attention.

"Hey, look at me," he commanded, his tone of voice a bit more firm.

He gestured towards the blanket and the fact that you were wrapped up in it.

"This does not define who you are. It's a part of you, and we've accepted that," he said before poking at your forehead again, "but it doesn't change who you are."

You felt your eyes begin to heat up as he spoke the words that you needed to hear—that you were more than just your depression, and that no matter how much your depression was weighing you down right now, that he still, and always will, see you as the same person that he fell in love with all those years ago.

The tears threatening to gather in your eyes was a sign of progress. At least you were feeling something now.

Noticing that his words had struck a chord within you, he pulled you into him, placing his hand on the back of your head as you buried your face into the nape of his neck, giving you the space to simply exist and process those emotions you were finally able to get yourself to feel again.

Depression was a bitch to live with. The moment you were told that this could be something you'd always have to deal with from time to time, and that it's hard to say if it'll ever truly go away—you were mortified. The idea of having to do this randomly, with there being nothing you could do to stop it made you want to cry and give up—but Levi was always there to pick you back up.

Although you were still the one that had to drag yourself up, Levi kept you from falling further into the trenches. Unlike everyone else that either looked at you with pity or continued to mutter empty phrases like "it'll pass" or "you'll get better", Levi just accepted you for who you were—because as he said, whether you lived with depression or not, he would always love you for who you were.

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @grav3bab3 @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @lovedbylevi @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @deepzombieyouth @evas-leslas join my taglist!

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ unbearable

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, angsty, hurt/comfort?? possibly slightly ooc sampo sorry </3, unedited

ugh I rlly couldn't help myself making my first work on this account sampo (tho I really did consider svarog LMAO he's grown on me a lot) but I hope you all like!! this is like. my redebut onto tumblr writing hehe ^w^

Surely, there couldn't be a more unbearable man on this planet — no, maybe in the entire universe — than Sampo Koski.

Perhaps he had his good sides, though, you would find yourself musing every once in a while.

Sure, he was a filthy conman, always tunnel-visioned on his next profit. Not much consideration for strangers aside from their pockets, not to mention that terrible habit of his to spam anyone whose contact he could get his hands on with scam ads and malware links he was paid a pretty sum to spread. Even his own 'friends' wouldn't be spared from his constant phishing attempts.

Maybe he did get a bit too reckless if the job was especially large, especially profitable, and maybe he did sometimes ditch just before the bill at a restaurant would arrive, and maybe he did piss off a group of automatons, causing them to chase you two to the edge of town until —

You sighed irritably, pinching your temple as you tried to refocus your thoughts.

In spite of all that, Sampo did have his benefits, you surmised.

He had ended up dropping in at just the right time during that automaton chase, even though you'd assumed mere moments earlier that his disappearance from your side meant he had run for the hills and left you behind. You avoided a lot worse injuries thanks to him that day.

And yeah, he did stop that miner from scamming you out of a good chunk of your paycheck that one time — albeit at the cost of another group of naïve victims who he led the man directly to. 'The only one who can swindle you out of all your pocket money is me!' he had claimed, and promptly received a beating over the head.

But once you opened your eyes again, beholding the sight of Sampo Koski sat on his knees before you in shame, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced to the side with a guilty smile...

You weren't quite sure his positive aspects could completely abate your wrath.

On this very day, the man before you had asked you to come with him to Rivet Town to assist with a 'very important business discussion'. You, foolishly, decided to trust him again.

'Give him the benefit of the doubt,' you'd thought. 'Maybe this time it's actually something honest. Maybe this'll really help him.'

Rather than a discussion, though, the foxlike man had instead led you right to a large group of automatons.

'It'll be fine,' he'd said, shrugging. 'Just need some scrap metal for a client! It's technically still a business discussion, we're just discussing with our weapons rather than our mouths!'

So he'd left you to dismantle the automaton pile, until another group of very much active robots had spotted you two and barreled towards you for vengeance.

The man hadn't even noticed in your collective fleeing that one of the bots had managed a sizable gash on your leg, hindering your escape until the two of you finally stumbled back into town.

Of course, the filthy scammer escaped unscathed himself.

Just recalling the incident sent you into further distress as the pain ached in your leg — you hadn't bothered to get it treated by Natasha yet, too focused on giving your 'business partner' a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

Sampo didn't dare speak a word himself. Your stormy expression was enough for him to keep his trap shut tight, too afraid of your mood to risk worsening it.

He had really done it with his latest stunt — a little 'prank gone wrong', as he put it, until he saw just how upset you were — and he knew it, too.

"I just..." Green eyes immediately shot over towards you as you began to speak, but your words only cut off into a heavy sigh, leading you to slump into a chair in the corner of your dingy apartment. Seeing you kneading your forehead with a look of exhaustion more so than anything else, the sly man took his chances with a conversation.

"L-Like I said, Y/N, it was all in good fun!" he laughed anxiously, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "I wasn't actually going to leave you to get all the parts by yourself, or ditch you when the bots came running, or anything —"

"Quiet."

Your voice shut him up once again.

Sampo was exceedingly nervous today. Usually, you'd just get angry with him, expression twisting into that cute, flushed pout that he'd gotten so fond of.

You'd hit him over the head, scold him loudly, drag him by the ear... but you were never silently angry. Not like this.

"Does it really make you happy?" your voice echoed through the room at last, your face still hidden beneath your exasperated hands. "Is it really that fun? Are you getting a good laugh at my expense?"

Sampo's smile, though nervous, fell.

"You know, Sampo Koski," His spine straightened at his full name being used, rare shame filling his cheeks. He felt like he was being scolded like a toddler. "You always pull something or other over me. Usually, it's bearable. But it's gotten to be too much."

"Y-Y/N —"

"I choose to offer you my trust in so many ways, and you just...!" Your hands clutched onto your hair in complete vexation. "You always take advantage of it! Always! Even when I try to help you, or give you the benefit of the doubt, try to convince myself you're being honest for once!"

You peered through your fingers at him with one eye.

"I can count on two hands the amount of times you've shockingly come through for me, and yet, I don't even have enough hairs on my head to equal the amount of times you've swindled or betrayed me! This is the last straw, Sampo Koski!"

"Y/N, l-listen —"

"I'm going to Nat's."

His mouth fell agape as you just got up and began walking towards the door as you'd said.

"Wait!"

"What?" you sneered as the man half-rose to his feet, frozen by your glare. "Worried that I'll tattle to her and you'll get another earful to ignore? Don't worry. She knows that every injury I get is your doing, so she's going to find out one way or another."

"...Injury?" Sampo asked, dumbfounded. You raised a brow, thoroughly ticked as you turned and walked away again.

It was then that he noticed the blood soaking your pants, the torn material of your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the gnashed skin. Your limp was more pronounced than he'd like to admit, considering he clearly hadn't noticed it prior to now.

The door slamming brought the man back to his senses, and he immediately pursued you, grabbing onto your wrist before you could make it ten steps away from your home.

"Let go, Sampo! While I'm still being nice!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear it! I —" Upon processing his words, you turned, a look of mild horror washing over your features as you raised a brow again. "...Eh?"

Sure enough, the Sampo Koski had just said the words 'I'm sorry' in a tone that sounded more genuine than anything he'd ever pushed past his lips — that is, if his souring expression was anything to go by.

He'd never said that to you before, not in the several incidents before this, so you certainly hadn't expected it now.

He looked gutted.

"I should've — I shouldn't've — Urgh..." Sampo scratched the back of his neck. You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't tell me this is just you being too afraid of Nat to let me get treated by her."

"No, no, listen," he waved his hands around wildly. "I'm... sure, I'm afraid of Miss Natasha, plenty afraid, in fact! But... being real honest, I'm way more afraid of you walking out on me for good."

His head bowed, and he looked completely downtrodden at this point.

"Y-You've been better to me than most, and I guess... I don't know. I just thought you'd always be there, sorta... Which was wrong of me to assume!" Sampo's speech was jumping all over the place as he hastily attempted to keep your attention, worried a single wrong word would send you walking away again. "Very wrong! I took advantage of ya a lot, and... Well, I'm sorry."

You stood there in silence for a good, long while.

It was plenty of time to make even Sampo nervous. You couldn't deny reveling in the way his fingers twitched anxiously, his eyes darting to you and back to the floor as he awaited your response — or lack of one — to his apology.

Finally, you sighed again. A very long, drawn-out, wrongdoing-emphasizing sigh.

"Well, I assume you can't promise that this will never happen again."

"Heheh... Well, if we're being really, really honest..." he simpered, not meeting your eye. "I can at least promise that I'll never let you get hurt on my watch again, though! Not ever! Koski's honor!"

The comical way he put a fist to his chest, as though mimicking a Silvermane Guard, put a reluctant smile on your face. Finally, you snorted out a laugh, bringing his infamous smile back again as well. This time, however, it was more relieved than mischievous.

"I really hate you sometimes," you murmured, pulling him into a hug as you buried your face in his shoulder. "But I'll let it slide. Last time, Sampo Koski. Don't you mess up again."

"I won't!" he shouted, perhaps a bit too eager. Still-shaky hands found your figure as he gently returned your embrace, something a bit more tender in his eyes when you pulled away. "I won't."

"Fine."

"Now, then, why don't we mosey back on into your house and get that leg patched up, eh?"

"Sorry, Mr. Koski," you teased, folding your hands behind your back as you continued your trek towards Natasha's clinic. "As much as we just shared a heartfelt moment of emotional growth, I don't trust your shoddy patchwork first-aid, not for something that hurts this bad. You'll just have to deal."

Sampo trailed after you like a puppy, rubbing his hands together like the shady businessman he was, familiar swindling smirk back already — though it grew more anxious by the minute as you neared Natasha's.

"Ah, come on! Can't we work out a deal? A bargain?! I said I won't let you get hurt again! We're both reasonable people, right...?"

"Y/N...? Y/N, come on!"

[feralkat]

🫄2️⃣🚎🛑👖💦

The first build-a-birth prompt that came in and oh my God was it fun to write holy shit lol.

It got so long that I decided to split it into two parts, though 😅 so here's part one lmao. Also there will be twins - Atlas just doesn't know they've got twins in there so part two is gonna be pretty wild for them lol.

Word Count: 2.8k

Characters Used: Atlas (nonbinary afab OC) & Fen (cis-male OC)

WARNINGS: nonbinary character giving birth, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth, orgasm during labor. Also - I do use AFAB terms to describe the characters' genitalia so please be aware of that.

If it weren't already obvious, this is a birth/labor fetish fic so if you are a minor or not into that then DO NOT INTERACT. You have been warned.

Everyone had joked about how Atlas would end up going into labor during their baby-moon despite being only 36 weeks along. By the end of it they were beginning their 37th week, but even so their due date wasn't for three more weeks so it was easy to laugh those concerns off.

Except Atlas had been feeling increasingly more intense contractions since they left their hotel that morning that they were trying to brush off as Braxton hicks contractions.

At least until a small gush of fluid left a size-able damp spot on Atlas' leggings and made them realize they couldn't stay in denial for much longer about what was happening.

They were in labor.

Though, technically, labor didn't start during the baby-moon itself.

No, it started as they were leaving.

Now they were several hours away from the next stop and even further away from home where Atlas had everything set up to have a nice, relaxing, empowering birth with just themselves and their husband.

"Shit," Atlas grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the seat and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window as he felt a contraction start.

"Babe? You alright?"

Atlas glanced over at their husband, hazel eyes peaking out from behind blue and green dyed bangs. "My water broke," they mumbled in an exhale, taking in another deep breath and squeezing their eyes shut as they felt the pressure deep inside their pelvis drop even lower.

"Oh... Oh!" Fen exclaimed, having taken a moment to fully comprehend what Atlas said. "Guess those weren't just Braxton hicks contractions, huh?" Fen chuckled nervously, reaching over to take Atlas' hand.

"Yeah, guess not," Atlas sighed as the contraction passed.

"Do you think we'll make it home?" Fen asked, "If not I can look at hotels around the next stop. It won't be home but at least it won't be on a bus."

"Um," Atlas paused, thinking back to when the contractions first started around 10AM. It was nearly 6PM now, but for the majority of the time the contractions weren't too bad. The last half hour or so, Atlas had noticed growing pressure against his hips and lower back but assumed it was from the not-very-comfy bus seats. But then their water broke and that pressure had gotten worse without the cushion. "I don't know," they answered after a few seconds.

"Okay, how about... I'll book us a hotel near the next stop just in case and we'll reassess once we get there," Fen offered.

Atlas nodded their approval of the plan, grateful for Fen's ability to think logically even in panic-inducing moments.

Over the next two hours, Fen gently coached Atlas through contraction after contraction. The deep rumble of his voice, strong hand holding Atlas', and his general presence helped immensely to keep Atlas calm and focused despite everything else.

At some point Fen pushed the armrest between them out of the way so Atlas could lean on him, making for a much comfier position than sitting upright like they had been.

"There's... a lot of pressure," Atlas said between softly panted breaths. "I don't think it'll be much longer," they added.

"Okay, we should be at the stop soon," Fen reassured, draping an arm over Atlas' shoulders to gently rub circles against Atlas' swollen stomach. "Then we can go straight to the hotel and have this baby like we planned," Fen said, voice dipping into a low purr against Atlas' ear.

It made a shiver go down Atlas' spine, clit throbbing and making them aware of exactly how aroused they already were just from Fen talking to them and giving them instructions - even if those instructions were mainly how and when to breathe.

God, Atlas wished they were home.

A contraction brought Atlas out of their thoughts, making them tense until Fen reminded them to relax and breathe through it.

That was getting really hard, but Atlas made an effort. They took in a deep breath, trying to relax their body as much as they could as they let that breath out slowly.

"Again, babe, do it again," Fen urged, reaching down to massage the outside of Atlas' thigh where the muscles were still all tense.

"Ngh," Atlas grunted as they sucked in another breath, screwing their eyes shut as the contraction peaked and the pressure between their hips increased tenfold. Hardly even realizing it, they found themselves bearing down against it for the remainder of the contraction.

Once it was done, Atlas shifted to reposition so they were leaning back against Fen, one foot up on the seat and the other on the floor. The position let them spread their thighs a bit more and they moaned softly when they felt that pressure drop deep into their pelvis. "H-Hey, Fen," they mumbled, unable to help but rock their hips a little, "I think I have to push."

Fen didn't reply right away, lifting his head to glance around the bus first. There weren't many people, thankfully, and it seemed like they'd be getting to the bus stop soon but neither of them were sure if it'd be soon enough. "Okay. We're almost to the stop and the hotel is just around the corner from there. Try to breathe through it until we get there," Fen instructed, calm aside from a slight tremble to his otherwise even voice.

"I'll try, but..." Atlas trailed off, feeling their midsection tighten in another strong contraction.

"You got this, love. I know it's hard, I know you want to push but let's breathe through it," Fen cooed, his voice low and lips brushing against Atlas' ear as he spoke. "Feel the pressure, notice it and accept it as you breathe," he instructed, taking slow even breaths for Atlas to follow.

"Yeah, 'm feeling th-the pressure," Atlas groaned in one quick exhale, screwing their eyes shut and trying their best to match Fen's breathing. What really got them through the intense heavy pressure urging them to push, though, was focusing on Fen's fingers rubbing their thigh.

"You're doing so good sweet-tart," Fen rumbled, "Focus on my voice and we'll get through this."

Atlas nodded, unable to answer as they tried not to make a lot of noise. They could feel that heaviness shift and move down, knowing the baby's head was fully engaged and working its way through their cervix by now.

"You've got this, babe, doing so good for me," Fen purred as the contraction peaked.

There was only so much Atlas could do, though, when the contractions were doing enough to work the baby down through their cervix even without them pushing.

Just as the contraction was ending, there was a loud 'boom' and the bus jolted, tires screeching as it came to a very sudden stop.

Within half a second of the sound, Fen had both arms wrapped tight around Atlas and didn't loosen his grip until the bus was completely stopped.

"Fuck, Atlas are you okay?" Fen asked, calm facade breaking for a moment as panic crept into his voice.

"Yeah, I think so," Atlas answered, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm their racing heart. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Fen nodded, pressing a kiss against the top of Atlas' head.

"Sorry, folks!" the bus driver exclaimed, "Sounds like a tire gave up on us. The station has already been notified, though and someone should be here within the hour to fix us up."

Fen and Atlas sat in silence for a few seconds as that information sunk in. There was no way Atlas was going to make it through an extra hour - they were cutting it extremely close anyway.

"Fen," Atlas mumbled, tilting their head to look at their husband, "I don't know if... if we'll make it."

A small frown tugged at Fen's lips before he slowly answered, "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No," Atlas snapped, panic rising at just the mention of going to a hospital - especially one that was away from their home town that Atlas had never been to.

They've had enough medical trauma and shitty doctors to give them a lifetime of distrust for hospitals.

"Okay - That's okay," Fen reassured, finding one of Atlas' hands to hold. "Let's still try to breathe through it and we'll see how far we get."

"'Kay," Atlas grunted, hand tightening around Fen's as pain and pressure overwhelmed them.

The next couple of contractions went similarly, Atlas following Fen's instructions while trying to keep themselves quiet even as the pressure kept moving lower. It was getting difficult, though, especially when the intensity of the pressure didn't lessen at all after the most recent contraction ended.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nghhh," Atlas whined, squirming against Fen as they tried to find some sort of position that wouldn't be as terrible. "So much pressure," they complained, arching their back a little before collapsing against Fen with a defeated whine.

"I could give you a distraction, if you want," Fen offered, one of his hands trailing down over Atlas' swollen stomach to rub against the inside of their thigh before gently trailing over the seam of their leggings.

"Ah!" Atlas gasped at the unexpected sensation, their clit already swollen and sensitive from how Fen had been talking before. "Please," they said in a rush of air, thighs twitching open more.

Taking a glance around, Fen slipped his hand into Atlas' leggings once he was sure no one would see. "There you go, sweets, just focus on my hand and my voice," Fen encouraged, quickly finding Atlas' swollen clit and slowly rubbing circles over it.

Dropping his head back against Fen's shoulder, Atlas bit back a moan. It did help, though, able to focus on a different sensation rather than pain and pressure. "Sh-shit," Atlas groaned as another contraction hit and Fen sped up his fingers as it peaked. The pleasure took the edge off of the pain but stood no chance against easing the pressure and urges to push that Atlas felt. "Ngh! Ah, f-fuck," Atlas grunted as the contraction peaked.

Fen was telling them to pant through it, suck in air and then blow it out, do whatever they could just so they weren't holding their breath. That was hard, though, and Atlas found themselves giving little pushes with every forced exhale.

They didn't have a choice in the matter and fuck did it feel good to give in a little bit.

It was only after the contraction ended that Atlas realized on top of the pressure there was a new sensation just below their cervix - like they were being stretched and filled to their breaking point.

Everything was so intense, though, Atlas couldn't even say anything about it. They were reduced to a squirming, whimpering mess as the pleasure warred with the discomfort and that urge to push completely overtook them when their abdomen tightened again.

And Atlas was right - it felt so good to finally do what their body wanted them to.

Between that and Fen's fingers moving expertly over their clit, Atlas found themselves on the verge of an orgasm as they gasped in a breath and pushed.

That's what did it, Atlas unable to help but cry out and buck their hips as the orgasm washed over them even as their body kept bearing down.

By the time Atlas was coming down from that absolutely incredible orgasm, they could feel that that heaviness had completely filled their cunt and they were sure if they pushed just a little more that their lips would start to bulge and part.

"Oh my God, are you having a baby?!"

The shrill voice of a concerned stranger made Atlas' face go bright red, realizing she probably had heard them cumming just now.

Fen didn't remove his hands from Atlas' leggings which made Atlas' face burn even brighter as Fen tried to reassure the worried passenger.

Atlas was past the point of being able to speak coherently, though, especially as another contraction started not even seconds later.

"Oh - Ah - Nghh - No," Atlas whined as quietly as they could, their body now pushing without their consent. "Oh God, oh God. Fen!" Atlas gasped, feeling their hole start to stretch as the baby's head started to inch out.

But Fen was still trying to convince the lady - and now several other worried passengers - not to call 911 because they had it handled and that Atlas didn't want to go to the hospital.

Groaning through gritted teeth, Atlas felt the baby's head slide back in as the contraction ended. But they didn't get that relief for long, their contractions almost on top of each other by now.

Atlas hardly even noticed the small crowd that had gathered around their seat, all of their focus on trying (and partially failing) not to push again.

It didn't make much of a difference, though.

The baby's head was slowly making its way through. Every contraction brought it out further and further even though it always slipped back in as soon as the contractions were over.

At least until it didn't.

Unable to speak, Atlas grabbed Fen's wrist and moved his hand down just enough that he'd be able to feel the way Atlas' lips were bulging and the baby's head peaking out through them.

Atlas felt Fen's whole body tense for a moment, words faltering as he tried to soothe everyone who was trying to call an ambulance.

Then, he regained composure and with two fingers spread Atlas' lips just a little further so he could press his hand against the baby's head. With that position, Fen incidentally had the ball of his hand pressed firmly against Atlas' sensitive clit which sent entirely conflicting sensations through their body again.

As the next contraction came, Atlas found themselves unintentionally grinding against Fen's hand as they moved their hips in little circles like they had been this whole time.

And it felt so fucking good but also way too intense at the same time and Atlas couldn't hold back their moans, grunts, and whines anymore.

When that contraction peaked, Atlas gave a series of little pushes each accompanied with a small grunt.

It wasn't doing anything, though, and Atlas soon realized that Fen was keeping the baby from progressing more with firm but gentle pressure against its head.

"Hey, they're transferring us to a different bus, sweet-tart, it just got here," Fen's voice right in Atlas' ear was the only thing Atlas could hear outside of their own harsh breathing and pounding heartbeat. "The aisle is too narrow for me to pick you up but as soon as we're off the bus I'll be able to carry you, okay?"

Fuck.

There wasn't any other choice, though, so after Fen removed his hand from Atlas' leggings, Atlas slowly adjusted so they could stand.

Fen supported them the whole time but with every step Atlas could feel their labia bulging and spreading more and more. Not to mention the way their hole was starting to burn with the stretch as the baby began to crown.

The step down from the bus was the worst and the baby was nearly at a full crown by the time Fen was picking them up to carry them over to the other bus.

Thank fuck the other bus was a little bigger so Atlas didn't have to walk to a seat. Especially since a contraction started just as Fen was stepping up into the bus.

All Atlas could do was bury their face against Fen's shoulders and sob as that burning sensation just continued to get worse, their body pushing even though they were actively trying not to.

"Fen!" Atlas squealed as the rest of the baby's head popped out all at once, making their leggings bulge obscenely. "I-It's - Oh God - th-the head is - it's out," they stammered, clinging to Fen even as their husband gently laid them on the row of seats in the back of the bus.

"Okay, okay - Babe, just, I need you to let go of me so I can - uh - look and help," Fen said in a mumbled rush, standing once Atlas let go before kneeling between Atlas' feet. "We need to get these pants off, okay?" he asked, already reaching for the waistband of the leggings.

"Wait - waitwaitwait," Atlas gasped, keening as their abdomen cramped and tightened again. They could feel the baby turning and a shoulder trying to come out but their leggings didn't let that happen.

At least until Fen managed to pull the legging down - ignoring Atlas' pleas because they needed to come off - and several things happened all at once.

The first shoulder slid out, closely followed by the second one and, before Fen even had Atlas' leggings to their knees, the baby was born with a large gush of fluid.

[luveternals]

paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~

When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.

And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.

Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.

And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait. 

The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being. 

All at the simple price of a stole life. 

You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.

The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.

Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless. 

The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.

“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.

Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.

You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.

What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?

You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain. 

You grin at them.

You did it. 

You’re alive!

-

They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you. 

Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head. 

You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move. 

You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know. 

You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll. 

They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way. 

“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”

You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below. 

You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive. 

-

You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled. 

You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled. 

It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it. 

It's worse than the pain. 

-

The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary. 

The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief. 

There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now. 

There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it. 

Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really. 

The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance. 

“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”

They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like. 

It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up. 

“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table. 

There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep. 

“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”

“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”

There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you. 

What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live. 

Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.

All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness. 

Is it too much to ask? 

“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”

The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”

Laughter echoes into your ears. 

“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin. 

“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

[bee-writes-n-spins]

Hi :> I have never requested anything on tumblr before lol. But I wanna see a Nagito or Izuru x (Ultimate fashion designer) (Fem or gender neutral) reader!

It can be oneshots or headcanon or WHATEVER!! But I really wanna see one of them both :)

Thank you for your time!!!🎀

a/n: uhhh sure. i have been pretty busy with winter guard rehearsals so im getting all my requests done at once lmao. and i have no idea how to write izuru. but anyways, enjoyyyy! notes: ____ is just a better way of saying y/n

nagito

so to start, i've said this before, but he will absolutely attend all of your runway shows! hell, he'll even model for you. let him be your mannequin.

he loves beautiful things! like your designs!

and he's a rich boy.

you need a really expensive type of fabric?

done.

a rare color?

already bought.

he just wants to see you be happy

you're sitting facedown at your sewing machine, frustrated about your upcoming show this weekend. things can't go any worse. three of your models got sick, one had to cancel because of a family emergency, and, to top it all off, the lace you ordered isn't gonna come in till next week!

suddenly, you hear a soft knock that breaks you out of your frustrations.

"____..? you okay?" it's the sound of your boyfriend's raspy voice.

"no. this show's got me in a tough spot and i'm literally about to scream," you grumble into the table. your mind is numb at this point.

he silently stares at you, worried for both your physical and mental health. he tip-toes over to you and gently plays with your hair.

"how 'bout you take a break..? i know it might not be the best to spend time with the likes of me, but i think you should decompress a little..."

you look up, eyes red and puffy from crying. you slightly nod.

"yeah.. i think that's for the best.."

izuru

he would genuinely be impressed

someone with an actual fashion sense?

finally, someone who doesn't bore him to death.

in all seriousness, he wants you to succeed.

so, he'll do anything to get you there

even if it means doing some... unsavory things

he is the ultimate everything.. and that includes murderer

you aways wonder just how rival designers go missing when you need them to or why a venue that initially turned you down came crawling back...

also, being the ultimate everything, he'll probably know some tips on how to do that really complex sewing pattern you've been trying for ages to figure out.

he might not like most people, but he certainly does like you.

you're relaxing by the fireplace, drawing up sketches on your tablet. winter is almost over, so it's high time you start working your spring collection.

already cozy, you feel an even cozier presence sit next to you. you smile warmly, immediately recognizing who it is.

"i see you're all warm now, my love," you giggle, giving izuru a small peck on the lips.

he nods slightly in response with a faint blush on his face. "yes indeed," he pauses for a moment as he peers over your shoulder to silently study your sketches, "don't use tool there, it'll make it look tacky."

you shrug him off. "yeah, yeah.." you say as you throw your tablet aside and cuddle to him.

he just stares down, a small smile on his face.

[mixelation]

i was thinking about reborn au & the iwa chunin exams and i..... genuinely do not know what tori can actually do?? cut also contains me whining about timing of events

okay, so my timeline:

i usually do everything timeline-wise relevant to team 7's age, so: itachi is ~5 years older than sasuke, which makes tori ~4 years older. i headcanon the hyuuga affair as being part of the end of the third shinobi war, so tori would be ~7 when that happened.

the ame trio prevent a lot of fighting happening in rain country, so sound is actually a lot worse off than the original timeline (although tori... doesn't know this). her adoptive clan is having SEVERE supply issues so she doesn't actually get much instruction with anything metal until orochimaru officially unites the sound country clans into oto. i'm debating the effect of ame not being the stage for war having the effect of making it last longer, so tori is anywhere from 8 to 10 when suddenly she's part of oto

i'm not sure what orochimaru implements in terms of training? the Vibe i was going for is that he wants to improve childhood training because his next move is going to be icing out (or murdering) the adults bc he wants a hoard of shinobi who are 100% loyal to him. idk, maybe he unites them before the end of the war and sends a lot of adults to their deaths. so tori might have actual instruction from like 7-8?

i don't think tori actually LIKES most training. she doesn't super care about being a badass; she wants to research how chakra works and make a lot of insane seals to test her theories. so she taps out of training whenever she can in oto, which becomes increasingly often as she's given more independence as a researcher.

i think orochimaru would base any training program on the konoha academy curriculum, so tori definitely knows the basic 3 jutsu. since she spends all her time thinking about chakra, i think i'll let her have pretty good instincts on how to mold chakra. she rarely struggles to learn ninjutsu, but she doesn't have a ton of chakra and she doesn't have a lot of motivation or teachers available. no one's formally taught her treewalking bc anything beyond the basic training in oto is sort of chaotic and she doesn't have a built in family structure to learn it from, so she's self-taught (she self-taught wrong LMAO) and also she didn't really bother with it until she fled oto. i'm going to let her know some techniques which are TECHNICALLY medical but she learned from orochimaru to do surgery in the name of science. she doesn't like using them in combat because they're..... messy

i think orochimaru is the type to make children fight each other. tori relies a lot of children just being kind of stupid rather than any actual combat skills, but as she gets older this strategy works less well. her taijutsu is therefore....... iffy. for weapons she's most competent with a staff (from the ol' bamboo pole days) but she doesn't like it bc it's very Sound Country(tm) and she doesn't really identify as an Oto-nin. her aim with a kunai is... okay?

With Team 4, I think Kushina really quickly is like "okay, so this team is about making sure tori can hit someone properly (and me teaching this one transport seal to her for the mission)" and tori just doesn't think this is very fair. why aren't you teaching her MORE seals, instead? They only get ~3 months so i don't think she makes insane progress, but she gets better!!

tori's fighting style is very "i will seem harmless until very suddenly I Am Not" so she gets kind of into trying to come up with a technique that gives her a one-hit kill. for this she turns to misapplied medical jutsu and kushina is just like "wow, horrifying, keep it up."

(fuinjutsu is actually pretty tricky to incorporate into active combat, because even if you have pre-made seals, it'll take you a hot second to active them, which is often a hot second too many)

tori's skills are all over the place in a way that seems completely illogical unless you ARE her, and also her measuring stick is Akatsuki, so tori is like "oh yeah, no, i think the average genin could obliterate me?" but the SECOND she realizes that winning her first tournament match means she'll fight itachi, she's like "actually i am going to dedicate my whole month of training to that fight" with the assumption she'll just win against unknown genin #2. whatever, tori knows what a real threat looks like

(also, a WEIRD part of the team 4 dynamic from an outsider's POV is that itachi and deidara don't, like.... disrespect tori? yeah her taijutsu is horrific but also she's INCREDIBLY skilled in a handful of other areas and they're acutely aware of this, but like. they shouldn't be LMAO)

anyway, i want them to run into sasori on a mission, and ORIGINALLY i was going to make this their one c-rank pre-exam. but also i think the exam is the turning point for minakushi to be like "ONE OF US" wrt deidara & tori, and i think "buddies with sasori????" would uuuuh not fly (at least with mianto) until after this turning point. so my new concept for their pre-exam c-rank is they run into chump shinobi and kushina is like "NO TORI HAS TO FIGHT THEM" even though literally any other member of team 4 could win in their sleep. she believes in you, tori!!!

so i think the sasori mission happens post exam? i'm not 100% sure how team 4 functions post-exam. it seems like kind of a waste to have itachi & deidara running c-ranks (esp itachi since he already has a record with konoha), but maybe minato is like "hey buddy..... so upon reflection and reviewing a lot of your files, maybe you should have friends your age??" so then the Point of Team 4 becomes integrating tori & deidara into konoha, and they take progressively more insane missions. the missions get more insane & less frequent as they figure out their own paths. itachi steadily starts getting tapped for ANBU again and tori starts rotating in R&D and gets strong armed into field medic training. i think deidara..... would also go into R&D, because his art is technically jutsu development. this is the funniest thing that's ever happened to tori

tori STILL doesn't like training but she has to log a certain number of hours to maintain her status as an active shinobi and her main sparring partners are like. insane s-rank people. so.............

(tori: I AM GOING TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH NORMAL PEOPLE (makes enemies instead) how)

[vu1g4r]

gush pt.2 (e.w.)

a/n: wow! thanks a bunch for your support charmers ;) this part's shorter – easing you into it.

pairing: ellie w. + femreader

warnings: NO SMUT lmao

summary: days rolling on, you searching for a familiar face in the student chaos. no luck until it's all luck – she's out to find you. who'd have guessed she is dropping a mini-podcast about your white smooth maneuvers?

a week rolls by since you graciously offered to the poor girl your kitty cream. you thank your lucky stars you haven't spotted her anywhere on campus since. a part of you nudges you to apologize for causing such... discomfort. you'd like to, but you're too scared it'll make things worse, and frankly, you have no clue how to track her down. it's like she just vanished into thin air. getting her name would be fantastic, so you could scream it all night, you reckon.

thursday ran you ragged, but you made it home! you stumble into your spot, totally wiped from wrangling with that crazy bulky winter jacket. today was just too cold for it to feel like autumn. you freshen up and then flop onto the couch with a hot cup of tea in hand, grab your laptop, and start browsing for something to watch. 3 hours fly by; the dishes in the kitchen sink have piled up a bit. you chuckle at the streamer's banter. you've binged all his old vids; looks like the good vibes are back in action. then you pop open a new browser tab while a vid kicks in the background. a message pops up from your bud – you lick your lips, hyped for the next wild voice note. you know you're in for another round of epic texting, fueled by uni gossip and mad inside jokes.

you gotta check out this podcast! it's her right???

you squint and hit the blue link that kicks you over to your uni's student site, seemingly thrown together by them. you decide to explore it. folders up top read as 'october_parties,' a bunch of useless pics attached to them. you scroll down to the 'podcasts' section — someone's chatting on cam, others are slapping internet pics with their voiceovers. but you're after the freshest, the one without visuals. just a regular audio file. you pump up the volume on your laptop, battling that low-fi recording.

"hey y'all. got a little story for you right from the depths of our bathroom. not just any story. it's..." you listen attentively to the calm voice, slightly muffled as if its owner is sitting too far from the microphone. "damn, it's wild. ever run into wankers who slather you with their creepy hands like some intergalactic goo? well, count me in! it was disgusting!"

you swallow, quickly noting the audio's duration. it's 20 minutes and about 3 have already passed. what could she be yakking on about for this long?! you fast-forward the audio to the middle:

"...i know you just go in there to puff or hook up. but let others take a leak in peace, damn it! i have no clue why the hell.....!"

you tune out her words, adrenaline surging. you slam the laptop shut, take a deep breath. It's time, you'll track down that damn chick and apologize before she figures out who you are and starts broadcasting to the whole damn uni to steer clear of you.

taglist: @mostlyhornyandsad

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday all :) Just realized we are over halfway done with s4. Crazy ha Naturally after an intense Chenford ep we have the next one be little lighter. Sadly they are missing 90 percent of this episode so it'll be a shorter one. But there is good moments of growth and such. Let’s get going.

4x13 Fight or Flight

Lucy is attached to Nolan’s helicopter kid situation. Which robs us of any Chenford in this episode. Thanks a lot Nolan…I could tell that kid was suspect af in the elevator and I’m not even a cop. John asks for Lucy to ride with him so he can get into this kids mind. It is awesome she is sought after for her psychological experience. We all know Nolan isn’t going to be able to do that…

We get a little crumb at the beginning of the episode. Tim was clearly waiting for her. I love how he instantly supports her. Doesn’t question why she’s helping or upset she is doing that instead of them riding together. Only that if she needs anything he is there for her. Little moments make my heart happy. So I shall take them in lighter eps.

We do get some good Tim and Angela moments which I will always be happy to enjoy. Tim runs into her and she tells him she has an old ‘friend’ of his in for questioning. He was pulled over and had a diamond bracelet in his car. It’s tied him to a home invasion that left 3 people dead. I do love getting a look into Tim’s work past and former arrests. Which ones are hang ups for him and such. She asks him if he’d like in on the interrogation?

Tim of course jumps right on it. Once he’s in the box Dez is deny deny deny about the bracelet. Saying he got it for his mother and lost the receipt. Ok buddy... Noting he was working the night the home invasion occurred. That his boss would confirm that for him. Watching Tim take charge in the interrogation is *fans self* Not to mention the bicep and forearm shots in this. Killing me softly sir.

Besides him looking fine af just sitting there I always enjoy watching him take charge in any capacity. .i.e. this moment. Why I love Metro Tim so much. It's sexy the way he walks over and commands his attention. Tries to connect with this guy. Knowing they have a past trying to use it to their advantage. Also him using words like recidivism getting me all hot and bothered. Idk why it just is LOL Anyways lets get back on track....Tim tells Dez he knows he wouldn’t have killed anyone. But they need his help to catch the people who did harm that family. They just need a name. He gives them the name of his lawyer instead. Wah wah

Seeing Lucy with Nolan it’s hard to believe they were ever matched up. Boggles the mind really. Just in how they’re approaching this situation alone. Lucy gets an ID for this kid from dispatch. His name is Leo Thomas. He's just a teenager. Nolan mentioning well adjusted kid’s don’t steal police helicopters. Lucy going on to say could just be teenager attention-seeking behavior. Trying to standout and establish their identity.

How it’s gotten so much worse with social media. She isn't wrong. I can only imagine. Its way more than when I was a teenager. Not to date myself but I only had myspace and facebook for most part and I didn't even use FB till like 2008 honestly. Oh and instagram. I think lol My point is as a millennial we didn't have the amount of platforms that are around now. It's insane. I can't imagine trying to establish an identity on them.

So Lucy saying social media having an impact on behavior is accurate. I believe that. It’s funny how John asked for Lucy to tag along and to get in the kids head. Then when she does he fights her on it a little. *eye roll* Also why am I not surprised he was a boring teenager? LMAO This doesn’t shock Lucy either. Him questioning her being a rebel. With the parents she had growing up? I have no doubt she was. You don’t know her like that John and it shows…

Nolan tries to connect with Leo now that he knows his name. John doing a big swing and a miss with him right off the bat. Trying to connect over now his family is sick with worry. Goes over like a lead ballon. He gets back on track with him though. Asking about learning to fly through video games? How impressive that is. Nolan starts to get some traction with the video game bonding. Leo begins to open up saying usually in a game how the main character survives through allies.

He asks John if he’s an ally? Lucy nodding her head fervently. Unreal how he needed to turn to Lucy for that answer. Do love her directing this whole thing though. What a downgrade from Tim eh Lucy? heh. Leo tells them they need to go on some quests first. Then they can talk about him landing this helicopter. John is skeptical to say the least.

Its why Nolan keeps biffing it with this kid. Honestly it’s a wonder he got put on this kid at all. Good thing Lucy is there to steer the ship. I love love love her being the leader on this. Look at our bad ass. Questioning his decision making skills and backing it with rock solid logic. Also sound psychology. You know the whole reason he brought her in the first place......

Nolan may have a good connection with people but he doesn’t have the logic and emotional intelligence Lucy does. John is ready to throw in the towel but Lucy isn’t. She crushes it with some damn good logic. Explaining why he should give into this kid and what he wants. It’s like he completely forgotten why he was assigned this kid in the first place. To build rapport and get him down on the ground. Good thing Lucy is there or this would be going so much worse.

He sends them on their first quest. To what looks like drug den. Saying he lost a raven haired girl he used to like from there from an OD. He couldn't save her but they can at least take down the monsters who caused her death. We find shortly after that was a lie. Since he has been home schooled for the last year. Nolan tries to get him to come down after one quest. Of course he doesn’t. It’s like John hasn’t caught on to the game here lol They ask for their next quest and he asks if they like alligators? HA

We return to Tim back at the station. He’s called in Dez’s boss to verify his ‘alibi’. At first he’s corroborating it until Tim says he’s suspected of triple murder. Tim dismantling Dez's alibi within minutes of meeting this man. I love it so much. His boss immediately amends his statement and says he paid him off. To clock him in and let him go and he did the same thing for tonight as well. Tim reports this back to Angela ASAP. That they don’t have time to wait for his lawyer. They have something far more pressing. Another target to locate. If they don’t figure out where that is more bodies are going to drop.

Lucy and Nolan are on their second quest. This part cracks me up. Dude they’re arresting is defending his alligator. Saying Cupcake is a sweetheart. Lucy’s reply cracks me up ‘Cupcake ate my taser’ LMFAO. His attachment to this creature is intense to say the least. The good thing about this second quest is there is a pattern though. Both quests have involved big drug arrests. Nolan tries to press the kid for it and nada. He continues on to tell them they’re going to have their final quest soon enough.

Tim shows up at Dez’s house mid-search. He instantly goes into sexy Sergeant mode. Asking Webb what they’re found so far? It would appear nothing at the moment. So Tim takes over the scene. I love watching him in action. So confident and sure of himself. While teaching in the process. Yum Yum. Sexy teacher Tim is in the house.

Just takes control of this search and makes it more efficient. He's so good at his job. Also he is growing as a Sergeant. Took control without fully taking control and doing it himself. He delegated his team to re-work their search pattern. Look at him go. So proud of him. Growing as a leader makes my heart happy to see.

We circle back to helicopter kid. They are slowly putting the pieces of the puzzle together. The guy they just arrested works with his mom’s BF. He's a known associate of his. It would appear they have a drug distribution chain going on. That one of the dealers they sell to was arrested and had to do with quest number one.

Lucy jumps in with her POV. This is why Nolan brought her along. Love watching her flex her psych brain. That muscle innate in her as she analyzes this situation. We finally find out why Leo took the helicopter. That quest #3 is to save his mother from her drug dealer BF. The problem is they don’t have any evidence linking this guy to what they’ve found today and he only has 40 minutes of fuel left…

We jump back to the house with Tim and his team. They still haven’t found anything linking Dez to the 2-11. Tim has an epiphany and calls in a bomb sniffing dog. Explaining that they look for ingredients for a bomb or gunpowder from an illegal firearm. That's what they need to implicate Dez. I will also take Tim Bradford talking to a dog all day long. Ovary explosion for me. *fans self* The way he roasts this dog for getting distracted by a squirrel LOL I’m dying I love this man so very much.

Thor eventually finds exactly what they’re looking for. Pawing at a spot Tim is able to crack open and find the evidence they need. Look at him listening to all past advice Grey gave. Not showing up to a scene early. When he does he delegates and doesn’t take over completely. While still teaching in the process of that delegating. He would be proud. Lucy too if she could see this.

Grey is able to get Murray to flip on Brian. Using cupcake Lmao it’s hilarious. Wants to make sure she’s taken care since she ate Lucy's taser. So he rolls on his partners including Brian. All for his alligator's well being it's too damn funny. Grey is delighted that’s all it took. Nolan and Lucy are able to complete quest number 3. They have him fly over his house so he can see them arresting Bryan. Telling him it is finally time to land that helicopter. He agrees and says he’s been air sick for hours ha They arrest him once he’s landed. Lucy looks so sad about it but they really don’t have a choice in the matter.

Tim returns to Angela with the evidence they needs against Dez. He flips once Tim has hard evidence against him. Gives them every job, every crew member and what they’re going to hit tonight. They catch up to the getaway driver fairly easily. It is fun to watch this bad ass duo work together. Question him easily about the men inside and what they’re walking into. Tells them three men are inside the house not including himself.

They find out 2 of the 3 are upstairs looting. While the third is hovering over the family with a gun. Angela doesn’t want to go in hot with this third guy. Worried he’ll hurt the family in retaliation. Tim tells her then they go in a different way. A way I very much approve of. Why you ask? We get Tim Bradford in a TIGHT white t-shirt. Pretending to be a delivery guy. Mmmm just look how taut that shirt is across his muscled chest.

Sweet baby James this man is fit. Could wash clothes on those washboard abs of his. Don’t get me started on the gun show that is his biceps. Popping out of those sleeves. We also get some nice forearm action as well in these shots. Nothing for me to analyze except his beautiful form in these gifs. Imma need some ice water. This man does things to me. *ahem* Let's get back to the story at hand...

Tim knocks on the door. Angela has the getaway drivers phone. So she texts the gun happy third guy it’s just food delivery. This gets him close to the door where they want him. Once he’s close enough they push through a flash bang grenade. Taking him out pretty quickly. Then we get to watch some poetry in motion.

Tim and Angela moving like badasses to secure the house. Just a couple besties taking down criminals like it’s nothing. These are some great shots of these two. I would like more Angela/Tim shots in s6. Just add that to my s6 wishlist haha Metro and the detectives working together be fun to watch. If I can’t have Chenford I’ll take Tim/Angela moments.

We started with a crumb and we get to end with a crumb. I love Tim being the one to initiate a drink after work. He’s grown so very much makes me wanna cry. We all know it’s because of his relationship with Lucy. Our hardened grumpy Tim while still grumpy has grown a lot. Look at him not only doing post work hang but making jokes. Saying it’s all on Nolan ha! Such a nice moment. Until Grey comes over and says Cupcake broke free from animal control LOL Angela's reply is the best 'Who's Cupcake?' So very confused haha

Not a lot of Chenford but good moments and growth none the less. Next episode will be a good one for them.

~~~

Side notes- non chenford

Well this entire episode was that haha I did enjoy Harper’s SL with Aaron and him trying to get that man justice. His reason why behind it and all as well. He develops very nicely as a character. I do love having him around a lot.

[duchess-kyuupid]

hi there

can you write idia’s reaction to his fem or gn s/o singing “good riddance” from Hades (the video game) pls? this song and idia both live rent free in my head rn lmao

have a nice day 😸

OMG You literally made my day with this ask, darling <333 I love Hades, and the first time I heard Eurydice singing it I was nearly brought to tears ToT Of course, I'll be more than happy to fulfill your request, and I hope that you enjoy!! For anyone who hasn't played Hades or just wants to listen to the song anon is referring to, here it is! (The audio comes out too loud for me, so I'd recommend lowering your volume a touch just in case! When I was testing it, the sound was just blaring into my ears and I don't know how to make it quieter;;)

~~~

~Idia Hears Fem! Reader Singing~

[Tw: Soft angst to comfort] *Don't need to know/play Hades to read*

To say that today has been a bad day for Idia Shroud would be an understatement. It's been one thing after another, each terrible thing piling up on his shoulders heavier than the last. They say that when it rains, it pours- and Idia feels that this statement could not be closer to the truth. He feels exhausted just thinking about how long this day has been, and it's barely even 3 pm! But he's had enough social interaction in all of today to make up for a lifetime of self-isolation. He's tired, his battery has run out- there's no chance that anyone's going to be seeing him leaving his room at least for the next week, and even when he does leave it'll be with his floating tablet.

At last he makes it back to his room, but he's far too tired to do anything but to crawl into his bed and lie there, doing nothing but hope to start feeling better. He doesn't want to see anyone, doesn't want to hear anyone, he just wants some peace and quiet, away from everything that's making him anxious. But apparently he can't even have that, as a sudden knock on his door pulls him away from his sulking. "Big brother, big brother! I have something to show you!" Ortho says excitedly, "I know you'll just love it! Can I come in?"

'I can't have Ortho seeing me like this,' Idia thinks, 'I'm just a useless Housewarden who can't do anything... Ortho doesn't need to see his brother being so cowardly, so utterly worthless that it'd be better if I'd just go back home to the underworld and never see this place again...'

"If you don't wanna open the door, I'll just play it for you from out here!" Ortho exclaims, and suddenly Idia is pulled from his gloomy thoughts when he hears a golden tune ring out from behind the door.

'Farewell, to all the earthly remains,' wait, Idia knows that voice... 'No burdens, No further debts to be paid,' that's the voice of the one person who could make his day even slightly better.

'Atlas, Can rest his weary bones, The weight of the world, All falls away, In time,' That's right, it's you. You're singing. To him.

'Goodbye, To all the plans that we made,' Wait, are you actually outside of the door with Ortho? You're actually here? To see him?

'No contracts, I’m free to do as I may,' Idia heard your voice continue to sing, to ring out beautifully as if your voice was weaving gold through a spindle.

And he couldn't take it any longer. He wanted to hear your singing, not through the door of his room, but right next to him, and he wanted to hold you and have all of his worries from today melt away with you in his arms. He rushes out of his bed and opens the door, his eyes glimmering with hope of seeing you behind it, only for the small smile that was invisibly growing on his face to extinguish when he realizes that Ortho was the only one there.

Ah, and now he feels even worse. His disappointment was so apparent, he didn't even try to hide it when his eyes met Ortho's big, bright, and innocent ones. He felt bad that he was so disappointed that it was his baby brother, because don't get him wrong, he absolutely adores Ortho, it's just-

It's just that today's been really long. He already felt shitty enough. But he should have known that you weren't going to actually be there, after all you were travelling outside of the college for once to see the world of Twisted Wonderland. You had told him before you left that you were going to be gone for a while, which makes him even more miserable, knowing that he won't be able to be with you when he's already so stressed out.

But is it really so bad that he had even a glimmer of hope? The hope that maybe, just maybe, you had decided to come back early and surprise him with a visit?

"There you are, big brother!" Ortho says, unaffected by Idia's visible disappointment in seeing him, "I know that you've been missing miss (Name) a lot recently, so I've got this recording of her singing for you!"

"U-uhm, thank you, Ortho...Where did you even get this recording from?" Idia asks timidly.

"I came across her one day when she was singing on her own in the woods! So I used the recording feature you installed in my programming so that I could show it to you," Ortho states, and even though his mouth was covered, you could basically hear his radiating smile. Idia smiles softly and his eyes soften as he replies,

"Thanks Ortho, would you mind sending me the file? I wanna listen to it through my headphones for a while."

"Of course, big brother! I've already sent it to your phone." Ortho 'smiles' brightly as Idia thanks him and closes the door. And without a second thought, Idia pulls up his phone, finds the recording file and starts to play it through his headphones, drowning out the rests of the world in preference to the sound of your voice.

'No hunger, No sleep except to dream, Mild and warm, Safe from all harm, Calm....' As you sing these lyrics in particular, Idia feels pounds of his anxiety and stress wash off of him in waves. As if your voice itself was a spell, Idia was in a trance. And he feels mild, and warm...He feels safe from all harm...and calm.

'Good riddance, To all the thieves, To all the fools that stifled me, They’ve come and gone, And passed me by, Good riddance, To all...' 'Farewell To all the earthly remains...' 'No burdens No further debts to be paid,'

'Atlas, Can rest his weary bones, The weight of the world, All falls away, In time...' And by the time your lovely song is over, he's already manually repeating the recording. It looked like there was probably an extra two or three minutes of empty sound at the end of the recording, and Idia wanted- no, needed to hear your voice right now, he didn't want to wait like 3 minutes before the song automatically looped, after all he could have listened to your whole song again in that timeframe!

It came to no surprise to him that he accidentally fell asleep listening to you sing. Again, it's been a really, really, long day, and just,, being able to listen to you like this was just what he needed to begin to relax and calm down.

What did come to him as a surprise though, was when he woke up early the next morning and your song was still playing through his headphones. And he felt good, he never knew that this is how feeling truly rested feels like. So as he's lounging on his bed, staring at his ceiling as your song continues to ring through his head like silk, and he figures that he'd listen to the rest of your song one last time, and then he'd get up and get something to eat, or perhaps he'd go take a shower or something.

So the song ends, and he's left with the empty sound at the end of the recording. He sighs and stretches out languidly, and then he starts to move to take off the headphones before he's surprised to hear a startled gasp, followed by the sound of you talking.

"Ortho! Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack there! How long have you been there for?" "Sorry miss (Name)! I heard you singing and I wanted to come and listen!" "My singing? Oh, it's not that good, really." "I disagree! I heard your whole song, your voice is so pretty!" "Why thank you."

Idia hears you chuckle breathlessly. 'Your laugh is beautiful' he thinks.

"Actually miss (Name), do you mind if I keep your song as a recording? I'm sure that big brother would be ecstatic to hear you sing!" "I don't mind. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of him when I was singing it anyway, so it would be nice if you did show it to him. I don't know if I'd be able to sing it in front of him perfectly like that without knowing what his reaction would be.. Oh, but are you going to keep this conversation in?" "Don't worry, I'm not going to!" "Actually, do you think you can leave this in? I wanna leave a message for him, if you don't mind." "Okay, sure thing! I'll make sure that he listens to it."

He hears you walk closer to Ortho, and he's holding his breath as if he wouldn't be able to hear your message if he took even a single breath of air. But what you say, though, knocks the wind right out of him, because he realizes that he's been asleep listening to you talking to his beloved younger brother (and he's so, so happy that you care for Ortho as if he was your own brother too), and that he's been asleep listening to you say these last few words saved for the very end of the recording.

"Idia, I love you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

LITERALLY this was so cute to write TwT I think this might be my favorite so far.... Eurydice is my comfort character ngl and I spent like this whole morning listening to her sing (even singing along myself to get a feel for what kinds of emotions she's trying to convey) and just generally I had so, so much fun with this prompt. Thank you anon for the request, and I hope that you all enjoyed reading!

[the-boiling-bisles]

I haven't really had the chance to organize my thoughts and predictions on the finale yet, so I guess I'll just dump them here lmao

I'm still holding out for Eda to use Bat Queen's whistle in the finale, don't know what she would do, but I do think that it would most likely lead to a sacrifice of some sort (or maybe belos eats her and grows to full power again wouldn't that be wild)

I feel like I'm in the minority of people who don't think Luz will permanently move to the demon realm, I feel like it would be easier on Camila (and Vee too let's be honest), if there was just an open portal she could go through at any time. At the very least it's pretty obvious that the portal between the worlds will close forever afterwards, evidently from how much Luz has grown there compared to Earth

Huntlow is definitely of importance to the Belos plotline, they would've just cut it for time if it wasn't. Hunter and Willow are 100% foils to Caleb and Evelyn, and my guess when the gang is confronted by him, he'll see the two protecting each other and have flashbacks to when he killed his brother. My biggest hope for this would be a fully animated flashback, but I guess we'll just have to see

It's pretty evident that Hunter will continue the line of palismen carving, and with the seed Dell gave to Eda, I would almost say that that alludes to a future with Willow where she grows the trees and he carves the wood (definitely reading too much into it lol)

Something I don't think a lot of people have talked about is who will run the isles when Belos is dealt with? Or rather how it will be run. It would make the most sense for one of the CATS to do it (Eda, Raine, and Darius all come to mind first). Oddly specific, but in that context I could see a scene where upon everybody finding out he's a titan, they say that he should be the leader of the BI, but he insists that he isn't fit for the job or something of the likes

I think with the build up to Stringbean, there will be a big fight against Belos in the next episode, considering how well he fought in Hunter's body, who had no natural magic at the time, I think as Raine he'll be even harder to beat. A fight like that alone has me curious as to whether they'll survive or not, but considering the amount of angst between them and Eda I don't think it'll get worse (I am definitely wrong about that). There will definitely be a scene where Eda thinks they're dead though, she'll hold them in their arms and cry or whatever and then they'll have some funny quip, then they'll finally kiss

Part of me feels that Luz will have a last minute moment of doubt when deciding whether or not she'll return to the demon realm at all, which will lead to Camila mentioning the videos that Luz sent her back in S2, I still think they're going to be plot relevant, and will probably be in the last 5 or so minutes of the episode

And that brings me to something mentioned by in a post hoot on Cissy's instagram a little while ago. One of the people there asked someone if they had seen the last four minutes of the episode, and when they said no the other had a clear reaction. The last four minutes will most likely be a time skip, wedding, or maybe some sort of memorial thing for a character who died. I would be willing to bet that those last four minutes were what Sarah was talking about when she said it was the hardest she ever cried.

Sorry this was so long lmao I just wanted to get my thoughts out

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 2

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.2k

Content: more jokes about killing herself, jokes about murder/death etc.; reader accidentally cuts herself and there is some [short] description of the cut/blood; alcohol consuption/drunkenness; smut: protected sex, fingering

A/N: Firstly, yes I have given Yoongi an older sister because it's FICTION and I CAN lmao. Secondly, there is likely to be a longer wait between this chapter and the next because I'm working on something else now to be posted hopefully soon 👀👀 but it'll take me a bit so this is your Kintsugi fix for the next few(?) weeks.

Once again, thank you to @btsgotjams27 and @here2bbtstrash for beta-ing for me.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

Chapter Two – Rebound  

You considered leaving. You considered ditching the baking class, taking your food, and going. You didn’t want to face it, him, your embarrassment, your hurt. You were still deciding, packing up your things, contemplating the door, when Yoongi walked through it. 

Your stomach lurched and a shudder ran through you. You looked at the space next to you – empty, as it always was – and wondered if he would take it. You didn’t know what you wanted. Rather, you knew, but you also knew it wasn’t coming. You wanted him to come and say how sorry he was, how he didn’t mean it, how he did want to be friends. You wanted him to talk to you, joke with you, show you that last week didn’t count, he didn’t mean it.  

A knife twisted in your gut as you thought about the class two weeks ago: your absolute certainty that you’d made a friend, the joy you had felt, the lightness, knowing that you could meet people, that you could befriend people, that people might enjoy having you around, that they might even choose your company. Followed by the crushing silence of last week. In some ways, it was worse than the break-up. 

Well, it wasn’t, obviously. The break-up completely ruined the life you’d thought you’d had and would have. But you understood it. You knew why it was happening. You couldn’t do anything about it and it was all your fault and that knowledge was devastating, but at least you understood. This, you didn’t. Your imagination had been given carte blanche to think of the worst possible reasons, the worst possible thoughts he might have of you. It was pathetic, you accepted that (Taehyung told you that) but it was how you felt.  

In the knowledge that you would not get the thing you wanted, you didn’t know what to want right now. You didn’t want him to come over, to stay silent, to ignore you again, as if you weren’t even there. You didn’t want him to go elsewhere; you didn’t want to watch him for the entire class, to see if he spoke to anyone else, to see if it was you or, maybe (possibly, could it be?), just him.  

You shook your head lightly to try to dispell your thoughts and busied yourself with tidying, rearranging, moving things about on the countertop as a way to not look at him. 

Except you were looking. You kept him in your peripheral vision, tracking him as he moved and came closer and closer still. You knocked your tubs of dry ingredients into the sink when he stood next to you and placed his bag on the counter.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath and, in your haste, made an easy job difficult, trying to pick up everything at once, dropping them and dropping them again until you gave in and picked them up one by one.  

A lightbulb went off in your head when you – still from the corner of your eye – noticed Yoongi’s body turned slightly towards you, felt the heat of his gaze on your face. You realised that you were doing to him what he had done to you. In your anxiety not to be rejected, you were rejecting him. You turned to him with a tight, forced smile. 

“Hi!” 

He returned your smile, small and shy, and nodded. 

“Hi... Um...”  

He shuffled and raised a hand to gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.  

“I want to apologise. For last week. It was, um- it wasn’t personal. I mean, it wasn’t about you. It was rude of me. I was rude. I’m really sorry.” 

“Oh.”  

You had to check if you were imagining it. Was it really happening? Exactly what you wanted? Exactly the thing that you most wanted, that you were so sure would never happen? Redemption. Another chance. An olive branch. 

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed, a little too loud. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. We all have bad days, right?” You laughed, a nervous chuckle bubbling up in your throat before you could stop it. “And I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly to everyone’s tastes-”  

“No!” he said quickly and then he cleared his throat, tugging at his hair again. “It wasn’t you, I swear. Please don’t take it personally.... It was me, just-… Anyway, I um-” He turned to his bag and pulled out a box. “I figured, since you don‘t cook, you probably don‘t have a decent set of knives, so I uh, I bought you some.”  

He thrust the box in your direction and you took it, brows furrowed, mouth agape. A set of three Tojiro Senkou knives; the brand meant nothing to you, nor did half the words in the description: ‘VG-10 core’, ‘60-62 Rockwell’, ‘Damascus steel’, but your ex used to talk about Japanese knives with reverence. You went to open the box and noticed that the seal was already broken. 

“I opened them,” Yoongi explained before you’d even opened your mouth. “I wanted to make sure they were sharp. A- A blunt knife is a... dangerous knife...”    

As you tipped the box to let the knives slide out, Yoongi grabbed your wrist and tipped it back, a slightly appalled look of disbelief on his face. 

“They’re sharp!” he gasped, carefully taking them out of the box, one at a time, by the handle. “You have to be careful.” He lay them on the counter for you and it was your turn to gasp when you noticed the price on the bottom of the box. 

“Yoongi!” 

He instantly took two steps back, his hands almost lifted in surrender.  

“Sorry, sor-” 

“These are so expensive!” you hissed. “You can’t- I can’t... Yoongi, these are fucking expensive knives.” 

His face relaxed a little and he shrugged. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine! Look!” You shoved the box into his face and he laughed, pushing your hands back down. 

“It’s fine. They’re a present. An apology. I assume you need them anyway, right?” 

“Well... No, that’s not the point! Yoongi, I seriously can’t accept these. It’s way too much. You didn’t even need to apologise, let alone get me something, let alone spend this much!”  

You could feel yourself sweating. You were discombobulated, thrown off-course by the turn the evening had taken. This was beyond the best that you could have hoped for. It made you anxious. You weren’t worth this much. Not to a stranger. You couldn’t repay this generosity. 

“It’s fine. Seriously. I wouldn’t have got them if I couldn’t afford them.”  

You turned to look at the knives, slightly intimidated by them now. You picked one up; it even looked sharp. You’d never seen a knife look sharp; maybe because you had never owned one that was. Without thinking, you pressed the pad of your thumb against the blade to test it. 

“No-!” 

Yoongi's admonition was so late it couldn’t be fully uttered. The metal sank into your soft flesh and you gasped, accidentally sliding your thumb against it as you pulled it away. 

“Fuck.”  

Yoongi was immediately pushing past you, approaching the teacher who was just about to start the class, gesturing towards you. You turned your attention to your thumb, looking at the clean slice, the pin pricks of blood as they formed, grew, flooded the cleft and ran down your thumb, into your palm. You squeezed, just a little, unable to resist. 

Then Yoongi was back with a first aid kit and he took you by the wrist and ran your thumb under the tap. He held you there with one hand, rummaging in the box for antiseptic with the other. Found, he released your wrist to pour the antiseptic onto a strip of gauze. You hissed through your teeth as he pressed it against the cut and held it there, the pressure firm enough that you swore you could feel your pulse.  

He eventually let you go, checking to see that the blood had stopped, and he picked out a plaster – bright blue, of course. He ripped open the packet and peeled off the protective strips. You held your thumb up to him and he wrapped the plaster, firmly yet also somehow gently, against the wound. He gave it a final squeeze to secure it and then picked up the knife to wash. He placed it on the draining board and turned his attention frontwards, where the teacher had started the class.  

You ran your fingers over the handles of the knives still on the counter, not listening, not really looking. You tried not to cry. It would be pathetic to cry. You knew it would be. But tears pricked in your eyes anyway and you bit down hard on your lip to stop them falling. You curled your thumb into your fist and squeezed; the dull pulse of pain almost pleasant, grounding. A thought flashed in your brain that you would do it a hundred times more to be taken care of another hundred times; you had to shake your head to dismiss it. It felt like so long since someone had shown you care like that, since someone had crossed the barrier of your body and touched you so casually, so unremarked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  

A twinge in your gut accompanied the recollection of your break-up, the reasons for it: that it was your fault, that you were too used to being cared for. That’s part of the reason you were taking these classes in the first place; you had to learn to survive on your own. You shook your head again and cleared your tears, pulling yourself together. You didn’t have to be taken care of. You were fine on your own. You could do this.  

You were brought back into the room when Yoongi nudged you with his elbow. When you turned to him—his head cocked, his face pulled together in concern—you could see he had already started weighing out his flour, while you had stood, unmoving, somewhere else entirely.  

“I’m fine!” you insisted, even though he hadn’t asked. You switched on, grabbing a bowl and your scales and working busily—trying to look like you were busy—to avoid any more of his watchful attention. He went back to his own baking, more slowly, his eyes hovering over you just a moment longer.  

- 

“Here’s a question,” you asked as you scrunched your hands, trying to make your pastry come together. “Your girlfriend’s allergic to nuts; what’s she going to do this week? It's all nuts!” 

“...Ex-girlfriend.” 

You snapped your head in his direction with a gasp you didn’t even try to conceal. 

“Hey! Congrats, man! I’m happy for you!” 

Yoongi’s shoulders shook as he laughed. 

“That’s not usually the response that news gets.” 

“Oh shit, sorry. Sorry, I-” Your face flushed deep red as you floundered trying to think of any reason but the truth for your reaction. “Sorry, I totally projected so much of my own shit onto you based on literally the two sentences you’ve ever said about her and I made a bunch of assumptions and I think it’s actually a good thing to get out of a relationship that’s not serving you, right? Making that decision and being free to go after what you want is a good thing and I just completely made up my own idea of your relationship and thinking you would be better off out of it and, oh god, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about the break-up.” 

He continued laughing. 

“No, you were right the first time.”  

He turned his face towards you and grinned. You could smell your own nervous sweat on yourself and you threw a small blob of pastry at him, glaring playfully.  

You were relieved. Pleased. Happy, even. Happier than you should have been about something that was generally considered bad news, sad news, heart-breaking. For a second, you imagined your ex and his friends saying the same to him and your heart cracked a little; you hoped they hadn’t and knew it was selfish of you to hope. 

“So are you all bitter and spiteful now, too?” you asked. “’Cause you seem... not like that.”  

He considered you a moment before answering. 

“You don’t seem like that, either.”  

“Well, maybe we’re both good at hiding it.”  

“Maybe we are,” he said with a smile. 

“Is that why... last week...”  

Yoongi stopped what he was doing and stared straight ahead for a moment, as if deliberating, casting his mind back as if it hadn’t been at the forefront of yours all week. He looked at you again, considering you with a light frown that you didn’t know how to read. 

“Yeah,” he answered eventually. “Yeah. Sorry. Again. Sorry. It was bad behaviour. I-” 

“Seriously, it’s fine. I did consider killing myself over it, but actually, frangipanes are my favourite, so I held on.”  

He checked your face and you gave him an exaggerated grin, then he gave you one back.  

“Good to know.” 

“That I wanted to kill myself or...?” 

“No!” He laughed and you let it go to your heart, confident this time that he would stay there, that you were friends, that last week was an aberration, a break-up, a bad mood. “Good to know what keeps you alive.”  

You laughed. 

“Yeah, frangipanes and spite. What a life.”  

“Could be worse. You could just have spite.” 

“Or just frangipanes.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Can’t believe I have such a full life and so much to live for. Can’t believe you almost made me throw it all away.”  

His smile faltered and fell and you nudged him with your hip. 

“I’m joking. We’re good. I promise.” 

He nodded, his smile tight and his nose lightly scrunched, and carried on rolling his pastry. 

You tried not to tell yourself that you were right, that his girlfriend had been bad for him, that he was better off without her, but it was hard not to when he was so cute like this: his surprisingly broad shoulders shaking up and down as he laughed, the crinkles next to his eyes when he smiled, his surprising warmth. Far more so even than the first two weeks, he felt open to you. A barrier had broken down, been taken down, and you knew you weren’t kidding yourself this time. This time, you were definitely sure you were friends. You had the knives to prove it.  

- 

“Um,” Yoongi began as you were packing away your things. “What are you doing now?” 

“Now? Going home?” 

You could see him tapping the counter lightly and he bit his lip for a second before asking. 

“Do you want to get a drink or something?”  

You paused, a tub of jjajangmyeon from cooking class raised, about to be placed in a bag. This really was beyond all expectation. Was he really asking? Did you want to go? The doubt surprised you more than the offer itself. Taehyung’s words came back to you: ‘you just need a good rebound-fuck'. Did Yoongi, too? Is that what this was? What if it was? What if it wasn’t?  

“It’s fine,” Yoongi said, turning back to pick up his bag. 

“No, I want to!” you cried, too quickly. You laughed, self-conscious and blushing. “I was just weighing up the risk. You are a strange man, after all; we don’t know each other that well. What will the papers say tomorrow when my body washes up out of the river? She should never have gone with him! What did she expect? It’s almost as if she wanted to get murdered!”  

He grinned back at you. 

“Well, I was going to say I know a place but that sounds kind of-” 

“Oh, very suspicious, yeah. I’m fully down, though. Let’s get a drink, my murderous friend.” 

He snorted. 

“I’m not actually going to kill you, you know that, right? Just want to make sure your expectations are set right.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say!”  

You shoved lightly against his shoulder, encouraging him out of the room. You were still unsure, anxious at treading the unknown path stretching ahead of you. You still believed what you had told Taehyung; you didn’t think you were ready for it. But you also had to admit that maybe he was right: maybe you wouldn’t feel ready for it until it happened and then it would be fine. It was also entirely possible that Yoongi had no intention of sleeping with you at all; he’d only just got out of his own relationship; maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you were worrying for no reason.  

You decided to assume you were friends, because he hadn’t given you any reason to believe he meant anything more by it. You brain was good at giving you non-existent problems to sweat over; you were trying to get better at stopping it.  

Yoongi led you to the car park of the university and you paused when he pulled out a car key. 

“You’re... driving?” 

“Yeah... Is that... not ok?” 

“Well, I thought we were getting a drink? You can’t if you’re driving. Or did you not mean alcoholic? Or you don’t drink! Or-” 

He laughed softly. 

“I did mean alcohol, but don’t worry, I won’t drink-drive. I promise.” 

You accepted his answer with some scepticism. Who drives to a bar? Would he just be leaving his car there overnight? Where could he even park in this city that that would be legal? You stopped in your tracks again when you saw the car he unlocked. There was no way in hell he was planning to leave a car like that overnight. Surely not.  

“What?” 

“That’s your fucking car?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Christ, no wonder you don’t think the knives are expensive! It’s a fucking... That’s a... ” You traced your finger gently over the badge. It was a fucking Aston Martin is what it was. 

You looked at Yoongi anew and you hesitated when he opened the boot for you to drop your stuff into it. Everything was sealed tight, you were sure, but the thought of four tubs of jjajangmyeon sloshing around was deeply worrying. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you with genuine concern. 

“Yoongi, if my shit spills in here-” 

“It won’t.” 

“If it does....” 

He shrugged. 

“it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

You could only stare at him as he slammed the boot shut and moved to the driver’s side. You hadn’t really thought about it, what he did for a living, who he was outside of class. You hadn’t expected your friendship to breach its containment so quickly. When you had woken up that morning, you hadn’t thought you had a friendship at all.  

“Are you getting in?” he asked, his head poked out of the driver’s seat window. 

“Oh yeah, just trying to familiarise myself with the vehicle’s emergency exits. Y’know, in case of murder.” 

He rolled his eyes with a snicker and tucked his head back in. 

“So, are you going to tell me what you do for a living to afford a car like this and knives like that? Or are you some sort of hitman, some high-paid assassin? My ex didn’t hire you, did he? To bump me off, get rid of me once and for all?” you asked as you buckled yourself in. 

Yoongi grinned and then it turned into a grimace as he sighed. 

“I work in finance.”  

“What?!”  

He shrugged. 

“I work in finance.” 

“Oh my god, you’re Patrick Bateman! You really are going to kill me!” 

The idea of this sweet, shy baker, this gentle and generous man working in what you could only assume was a company just like the one in Wolf of Wall Street was unthinkable. Preposterous. You reminded yourself that you didn’t know him that well, but it still just didn’t fit. You couldn’t place him there.  

“I am not Patrick Bateman, thank you very much, but I might just kill you if you call me that again.” He flashed you a grin and a raised brow as he pulled off from a red light. 

“Ok, well, if you are going to kill me, can I place two conditions on it? Can you grant me two things: two small things for my life?” 

“I’m sure that depends on what they are.” 

“Ok, first condition: whatever bar we go to, I want the most expensive drink they have. Whatever it is, don’t care. Most expensive. And you can’t say no to this one, Mr Moneybags, because this is my life you’re buying and if you don’t think my life is worth one expensive drink then I think you really need to invest a little more in this hobby of yours!” 

He laughed, a throaty guffaw, and nodded. 

“Alright then. What’s the second condition?” 

“I actually haven’t thought of it yet, but I felt like one condition wasn’t really enough for my whole life, so you’ll have to check again later.” 

“Noted.” 

"I can't believe you’re a banker,” you told him, switching back. “You’re one of those guys? It doesn’t compute.” You couldn’t imagine him in that world, your idea of which was small-dicked, coke-snorting men swimming around in a vat of toxic masculinity, money, and sex. “I would never in a million years have guessed.” 

“You mean because I’m not a coke-snorting meathead who thinks money can buy literally anything and that having it makes you better than everyone else?” 

You laughed. 

“Yeah, that.” 

“How do you know I’m not? You don’t even know whether or not I’m going to kill you later.” 

“Good point, well made! So why are you? What made you choose banking?” 

He paused, as you had noted he often did before speaking, like that curious pause after you cut your thumb but before the blood came; a tiny moment of held breath, suspension, anticipation. You were stopping yourself filling it, trying to let it rest, telling yourself that it meant only that he was considering his answer, not that he was considering telling you to shut up and fuck off.  

“I grew up poor. Really poor.” 

He paused again and you just waited, biting your tongue, letting him continue if he wanted to. 

“My sister left school at 15 to help my mum take care of my grandma and so she could work more hours. We all had jobs. We just never had enough money. I don’t know how.  

“I was determined I’d fix it. I was able to graduate school; I finished even though everyone wanted me to quit so I could work full-time, too. When I told them I wanted to go to university...”  

He fell silent again and you kept your mouth shut. 

“That was a mistake. I dropped the subject and applied anyway with the help of my teachers. I got a place and a full scholarship and I didn’t tell my family until right before I left because I knew they would try to stop me. They were furious but I think they were also terrified. I didn’t earn much working part-time but it was something and they were scared of having to live without it.  

“But I knew what I was doing. I researched the degrees with the highest graduate starting salaries; I researched the careers that would lead to the biggest paycheques; I researched the best university with the best connections, networks, and internship opportunities. And I did it.” 

He shrugged as if to signal he had finished and your mind whirred. 

“What did you spend your first paycheque on? Did you go mad? Try to buy a Ferrari or something? I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Are you used to the wealth now? Do you notice it anymore?” 

“I notice.” Firm, almost sharp. He tapped his finger against the steering wheel and sighed. “I was actually terrified to start with. I couldn’t bear to look at it. I didn’t know what to do with it. I was so used to not having anything that it was completely overwhelming. I buried my head in the sand. I sent money back to my family, obviously, but not much, not as much as I should have or could have, just the same amount that I had sent while I was studying. I lived like I always had: frugally. I didn’t know anything else. It wasn’t until a work friend came to my apartment and-” He shook his head, laughing at himself. “I thought I was normal. I had a shithole apartment that was barely furnished and I lived on gimbap and I thought that was just life. I didn’t know how to live better. But he came over and the look on his face, I will never forget. ‘Why do you live like this?’ he asked me. Those exact words. Why do you live like this? I didn’t know that I was living like anything.  

“Fortunately, we have financial advisors at work. So, I spoke to one of them and they helped me make sense of my money. They taught me how to invest, which sounds ridiculous because that’s my job. I knew all about managing other people’s money, but I hadn’t applied any of that to my own life. 

“Anyway, I sent a huge chunk of money back home and still send whatever they need; my investment portfolio is solid, so I’m... pretty secure now; I give a lot of the rest to charity. In a way I suppose you could say I did get used to it; I don’t ever worry about money anymore and I- I do have nice things. But I don’t take it for granted. I know what I have; I don’t forget.” 

You thought about a tiny, teenaged Yoongi, leaving his family behind so he could try to find something better for them. You wondered what he’d rather have done, if he had other dreams that weren’t getting rich quick, if he wished he could be doing something else. In a rare moment of reticence, of exercising judgement, you didn’t ask, didn’t push the matter.  

“I bet your family are proud of you,” you offered instead. 

His pause was longer this time. It stretched far enough that it made you uncomfortable, physically desperate to speak again, to break the silence.  

“Maybe,” he answered, eventually. “Yes, probably. But-… It’s not that simple. Families never are, right?” 

“Right.” 

- 

“Aren’t we going to a bar?” you asked as you shut the car door, noting that you were definitely not at one, that Yoongi keyed in a code to even get into this car park, this residential-looking car park in the basement of an apartment block. 

“This is my building,” he answered as he slammed the boot shut. “I live here. I figured since we had-” he lifted his hands to display your bags and bags of food. “-all this stuff and your jjajangmyeon should go in the fridge... I thought this would just be easier.” 

“Ah, I see...” You held out a hand to take something from him and he shook you off. “So, you’ve lured me to your apartment... Hmm, seems like maybe this really will be my last night on Earth.”  

Now you were even less sure what Yoongi wanted out of this evening, what he was expecting. He made a fair point about the food, but coming to his apartment was not the same thing as going to a bar. You trusted him, felt a warm affection for him; you knew you very much wanted to be his friend, but more than that?  

You had to stop thinking, creating problems where there were none. You could cross that bridge when you got to it—if you got to it. You shook your head again, a little reset, and reached out to grab the handle of one of your bags in Yoongi’s hand. He stopped walking so he could use a leg to kick you away. His insistence on carrying everything left his hands full and you stopped at the first door to his building. 

“Going to let me take one now?” you asked with your hand outstretched.  

Yoongi shook his head. 

“093613.” 

You raised your eyebrows and, when no response was forthcoming, keyed in the code. The door unlocked happily and you swung it open in disbelief. 

- 

“Well, now I know you’re going to murder me, because why else would you tell me your door codes?” you asked as you slipped off your shoes and shut the door behind him. “I can get in whenever I like now! I can rob you, little rich man!” 

He chuckled. 

“You know I can always just change them.” 

You sniffed haughtily, not willing to be caught out.  

“Most expensive drink in the bar, right?” he called behind him as he took everything into the kitchen. 

“Only if you’re planning to kill me!” 

You went in the opposite direction and ran your fingers along the edge of the bookshelf lining the back wall of the living room. Anxiety was humming inside you—low level, quiet, but there all the same. Yoongi interrupted your thoughts, knocking a cold glass into your arm. You took it: something brown, probably whiskey-ish, something you were almost certain you wouldn’t like. You held it back out to him and he chinked his own against it. 

“To my last drink on Earth.”  

“To your last drink on Earth.” 

Then you tipped it all back and swallowed it down in one burning gulp. You choked, tears streaming down your face in an instant. You coughed and Yoongi just stared at you, aghast. 

“It’s... Y-you're not supposed to drink it like tha- it's not a shot!” 

“Yeah,” you wheezed, wiping tears from your face. “Yeah, I get that.” You gasped and patted your face dry. “What the fuck was that?” 

“It’s just whiskey.” 

“Oh god, it was fucking gross. Oh, that was such a mistake. I’m sorry; that was horrible.” 

He looked at you, almost bewildered, too surprised to laugh, and he turned, making his way back to the low drinks cabinet. He knelt in front of it. 

“Ok, let me get you something else. What do you like?” 

“Tell me what you’ve got, babe.” 

He looked back at you with an expression you could only read as shocked and confused. 

“I- what?” 

“You jus- never min-” 

A flash of understanding. 

“Oh, ‘babe’? Sorry, do you not like ‘babe’?” 

“No, I don’t mind; just no one’s ever called me that.” 

You stopped short. 

“What do you mean, no one’s ever called you ‘babe’?” 

He shrugged. 

“Baby?” 

He shook his head. 

“Love?” 

He shook his head. 

“Sweetheart, darling, cutie, mon petit chou, caro mio, jagi?” 

He just looked at you blankly. 

“But you’ve been in relationships! Long-term ones! Serious ones! What the hell have your partners called you?!” 

“They just called me Yoongi.”  

“Do you not like pet names?” 

“I don’t mind. I’m not against them. They just never used them.” 

He shrugged. Your heart broke looking at his little lost face and then was overcome with a wave of affection which you surfed all the way to the drinks cabinet. You knelt in front of him and took his face in your hands. 

“Baby, I’m never going to call you Yoongi again, alright? If your own partners can’t treat you sweetly, can’t call you cute names just because, then I’m going to. You ok with that, my love?” 

He blushed and looked down, fighting a shy smile. You grinned, kissed him on the forehead—a loud smack of a kiss—and ruffled his hair. 

“Come on, then; what have you got for me to drink?” 

“Pretty much anything you want.” 

“Anything?” You loved a challenge. “Ouzo?” 

He pulled a face that told you clearly what he thought of the drink but then he rummaged at the back and pulled out an almost-empty bottle.  

“Ouzo.” 

“Oh. Advocaat?” 

He rolled his eyes and repeated his actions, placing a bottle of creamy Advocaat next to the ouzo. 

“Ok, how about port?” 

“Are you actually going to drink any of these things?” he asked with his head inside the cabinet. 

“Nope! Just testing you!” 

With a playfully aggravated sigh, Yoongi placed a bottle of port before you.  

“Limoncello? I’ll drink that one, I swear.” 

“Ok, because if you don’t, I’ll-” 

“-Kill me.” 

“-Kill you.” 

- 

The limoncello was long finished; Yoongi abandoned his sipping whiskey after his second glass; empty bottles of soju sprawled across the coffee table just as you were sprawled across the sofa. The room swam around you and you were blissfully floating on the waves, inhibitions fully lowered, guard down, heart open, as you most liked to be.  

“Ok,” you said, pointing at him with your shot glass in hand. “Tell me the worst thing your ex did.” 

Yoongi groaned and dragged his hands slowly down his face. 

“Everything. She made me feel so bad about myself.”  

“’Cause she’s a fucking dick, I told you.”  

“You’re right. I don’t know why we were together.” 

“Do you think she was with you for your money?”  

You wouldn’t have said it sober. But you were a long, long way from sober. Yoongi shrugged, rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t think she liked me all that much. I’m not even sure I liked her either. I don’t know how we ended up living together.” 

You did fall off the sofa at that point, mid-lean to grab the last remaining full bottle from the table. You shuffled on your knees over to Yoongi to pour him a drink and then poured one for yourself. 

“She lived here?” you asked and then threw back the shot. 

“Yeah... Not anymore, though!” Yoongi drank his shot and gestured for the bottle to pour more. “There’s a box of her stuff over there if you want to go through it. Take shit; I don’t care.” 

You cackled and followed Yoongi’s vague gesture to the hall. He rolled off his sofa to join you as you were pulling things out of a large box.  

“Ooh,” you cooed as you extracted a deep red dress, soft and velvet. You draped it over yourself. “How do I look?” 

Yoongi chuckled.  

“That’s the dress she wore on our first date.” 

“What?! Your first date?” You held the dress up in front of you, evaluating it again in light of this new information. “Let me guess: you fucked on this first date.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Honey, look at this dress. This is not a first date dress. This is the dress you wear when you want to get fucked at the end of it.”  

He looked surprised—as if it hadn't occurred to him that she might have planned it. You laughed. 

“That’s how you ended up together! I’ll tell you how it happened: you met and you were so distracted by how hot she was that you didn’t notice that you didn’t have that much in common or you didn’t like her as a person that much. And then you fucked and the sex was so good, you forgot there even was anything else to consider! Then, by the time you realised you didn’t like each other that much, outside of the sex, it was too late because you were somehow already in a relationship, fucked into loving each other without knowing it was happening!” You pointed at him, eyebrows raised, asking for confirmation, but he just looked at you, mouth opened, a half-formed protest stuck there, non-forthcoming.  

“Fuck!” he cried. Then he laughed and laughed harder, doubling over, bashing his fist against his forehead. “Fuck! Fuck! You’re so right... Fucked into loving each other... Shit. Though I don’t know if she actually ever loved me.” He was talking to himself more than to you, you thought, his gaze somewhere far off until it snapped back to you. “Well, you can have that dress if you want. She doesn’t seem to have any problem getting other people to fuck her, so I don’t think she needs it.” 

“Huh?” you asked, slightly distracted, trying to work out if this dress might possibly fit you. 

“She was cheating on me. I told you that.” 

“No, you did not!”  

You staggered to your feet to retrieve the soju and glasses, sloppily pouring another for each of you.  

“I fucking told you she was a dick,” you repeated, for what might have been the hundredth time. You knocked back a shot and then another for good measure. “Honestly, you needed me in your life before now. I’d have saved you from her. Can I really have this dress?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“Yeah, I don’t care. It’s not mine.” 

“Where’s your bedroom?”  

Yoongi pointed at the door at the end of the hallway and you stomped through it, shutting it behind you. You shrugged your shirt off and carelessly tore your sundress over your head. You took another look at the dress and did away with your bra and the cycling shorts you wore under everything in the summer.  

It was a somewhat sobering moment. Almost naked in a strange man’s apartment, trying on his ex-girlfriend's dress, the two sides of which you couldn’t get to meet behind you. You held it up against your bare chest and squinted your eyes, trying to imagine what it might look like if it did fit. You were still drunk enough that you thought you could probably pull it off. Pulling the hem down over your thighs, you opened the door and walked back out.  

You flung one arm out—the other needed to hold the dress up—and posed. 

“Ok, how do I look?” 

Yoongi, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, looked up at you and laughed.  

“Fucking sexy.”  

“Yeah?”  

You cycled through what you imagined might have been sexy poses as he rose to his feet and came closer. He took your free hand and span you around. Hardly steady on your feet, you crashed into him. Your arms were trapped between you and him; his came around you, steadying. His touch was light, but you could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin fabric of the dress. You looked up at him, blinking through your lashes.  

“Yeah,” he said, his low voice not more than a whisper. His breath washed over you, sweet and strong, followed by the slight sharpness of alcohol. 

You didn’t know if you moved first or he did, but, the second your lips collided, you knew you wanted more. You moved your body back slightly, freeing your arms, and then you pushed back up against him, keeping your dress up, allowing your hands to take his face, to tangle in his hair. A desire that had lain dormant in you for months reared its head and burnt through your drunkenness like a forest fire. You sucked on Yoongi’s lower lip and bit down. He opened his mouth and you could taste it all: the soju, the limoncello, the lingering, dark tang of whiskey, the urgency, the wanting, the need. Yoongi moaned into your mouth and it sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed you backwards, his fingers gripping you tightly; you stumbled together until your back hit the wall.  

Yoongi broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. You breathed heavily in tandem, looking at each other. You could have stopped it. You could have changed your mind. Said no, we shouldn’t. He could’ve stopped it, changed his mind, said no, you shouldn’t.  

Neither of you did. You stayed like that, pressed against the wall, your heart thudding back to meet it, your hands in Yoongi’s hair, his hands on your waist. For how many seconds, how many minutes, you didn’t know, couldn’t have guessed. The anticipation built in you, fluttering in your stomach, hammering behind your ribs, pooling in your underwear. The tension, tissue paper thin, stretched between you and you let it—you and Yoongi both. You opened your mouth to whisper his name. 

“Yoon-” 

He shook his head minutely, barely perceptible; if his head weren’t still pressed against yours, you wouldn’t have felt it, wouldn’t have seen it. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek and he grabbed his bottom lip hard with his teeth. His eyes flicked down, towards your own lips, and further, before flicking back up again. They were dark, liquid, burning. He slowly brought his hands up, delicately tracing the shape of your body and, without breaking eye contact, pulled his ex-girlfriend's dress from your chest. He nudged your nose with his and bent his head.  

He kissed your shoulder and your collarbone and followed the lost trail of the dress’s neckline down and down. Your hands gripped his hair tighter and you tipped your head back, closing your eyes as he closed his mouth around your nipple, stiff and sensitive. You shivered as he worked his tongue over you, as he crossed your chest and licked a broad stripe up your left breast, grazing his teeth lightly on your soft, warm skin.  

He moaned, a low sound, deep in his throat and your walls pulsed, your cunt empty and dripping. You tugged roughly at his hair, pulling his face back to yours, kissing him hard and hungry, rolling your hips against his. You opened your mouth in a soft gasp when you felt his erection straining against his trousers and he took the opportunity to roll his tongue over yours.  

You gasped again when you felt his fingers at the hem of the dress, underneath it, at the edge of your underwear, underneath that, too, and then pressing at your entrance, swirling in your arousal, gathering it, spreading it over your aching clit. You jerked as he began to move his fingers in circles against it, slow and firm, his other hand attending your breast, his mouth still on yours. It made you weak, the dizzy pleasure of it, the way the world titled and swayed to the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue.  

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice tight and strained as he pressed a kiss against your cheek, your jaw, down your neck. “You’re so wet; I’m so fucking hard—shit-” He growled and moved his hips, his stiff, straining cock rubbing against you, your bodies pressed tight so you could feel the heat of it, his tumescent desire.  

You whimpered as he sank his fingers into the soft, wet clutch of your cunt. He hummed and sucked soft, wet kisses on your neck. You wanted him to move faster, to stop taking his time. You wanted to feel his hard, heavy length inside you. You wanted him to fuck you and fuck you like he meant it.  

You reached down between you and fumbled with his belt, your fingers careless and weakened. Yoongi helped, his free hand tugging with yours until the belt came apart. You pulled at the waistband of his boxers, dragged them down, and let his cock spring free. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around it, when you squeezed lightly at its base, when you whispered to him, ‘baby, fuck me, please’.  

He demurred and bent his head lower, his tongue swirling wet heat over your chest. His long fingers curled and hooked against your front wall, rubbing over the ridges insistently, pressing, pulling, piling the pleasure up inside you. His thumb rubbed circles against your clit and you could feel the tightening in your core, the twisting in your gut, the shuddery, shaky feeling in your legs.  

He returned his face to yours, those deep, black eyes pouring over you. You looked back, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, breathless. Your walls started to pulse rhythmically against his fingers, clenching tight, and the muscles in your thighs began to tremble. Just as you were tipping your head back, about to close your eyes, you saw the ghost of a smirk wash over his face and you surrendered. You held tight to his shoulders as you came, his fingers squelching in your gushing arousal, his breath fanning over your hot skin, sprinkling goosebumps with every exhale.  

As the wave receded, you looked skyward and blinked, your erratic heart thumping in your chest, pulsing in your core, throbbing in your sensitive clit. Yoongi’s fingers slipped out of your warm, fluttering pussy and he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You dropped your hand to his dick and he moaned, his hips thrusting forward against your palm. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Fuck me now.” 

The deep growl that left him came straight from his chest and vibrated right through you.  

“Do you have a condom?” you asked and you felt him nod his head against your neck and then he was suddenly gone. You felt cold without his body pressed up, right on top of yours, and suddenly so much more naked than you had before. You quickly pushed your soiled, wet underwear down your legs and kicked them off somewhere across the floor. You carefully, deliberately pulled the hem of the dress low, covering as much of your thighs as it could and then you leant back, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.  

You heard him return, heard the crinkle of the packet as he tore it open and you opened your eyes to watch him roll the condom down his thick, flushed cock. You turned and leant yourself over the sideboard, pulling the dress up at the back. There was a pause in which nothing happened and you twisted back to look at Yoongi but his eyes were elsewhere.  

His jaw was clenched and his eyes blacker than pitch; he squeezed at the base of his cock and his eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed hard. He reached for you and his fingers dug deep grooves in your flesh as he gripped you tight with one hand and, with the other, pressed his tip against your entrance. You pushed back gently, encouraging, and he sank into you slowly with a low, vocal exhale. You fingers grasped at nothing at the stretch, his thick, straight shaft sliding against you, your cunt clutching him tight.  

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he panted as he bottomed out, resting there, letting you adjust. You gave him a squeeze and pressed your thighs together, earning yourself another gasped curse. He pulled out slowly, smoothly, and you swore to yourself, over and over again in your head as he fucked back into you, as he began to move faster and thrust harder. His hands pushed the dress further up, exposing more of you. He kneaded the flesh of your backside and dug his fingers in hard. Blood roared in your ears; stars danced in front of your eyes; you could smell the varnish on top of the wood as you pressed your forehead against it; you could smell the sweetness of the soju on your breath. Your hips knocked against the sideboard with every stroke that brought the tip of Yoongi’s cock against your g-spot; the jolt of pain mingling with the hard, exquisite pressure of Yoongi inside you, filling you up, stretching you out, made you breathless, made you shaky with pleasure.  

Yoongi was close; you could feel his cock twitch inside you, feel his rhythm falter as he got closer still. His fingers held you, bruising tight, as his hips snapped hard into you, harder and harder until you had to hold the sideboard, press your weight down on it to stop it jolting forward with you. He came with a deep groan and his hold on you released, his fingers fluttering over your flushed, warm skin. He stayed inside you for a moment, catching his breath, and then the feeling of him, full against your tight heat, was replaced by the ache of emptiness. You watched his back as he walked to dispose of the condom and you pushed the dress down once more with clammy hands. You gathered the top and held it against you, your nakedness now seeming inappropriate, excessive.  

He returned to you and kept coming, gently pressing you against the wall again. His cheeks were flushed, the hair at the edge of his hairline damp and sticky; you pushed it back and he closed his eyes at your touch. 

“You really fucking like this dress, huh?” 

His laugh was loud and then silent; he pressed his forehead against yours and nuzzled your nose as his shoulders shook. 

“I like the person wearing it,” he mumbled and then he kissed you. You kissed him back, your heart racing anew.  

“Well, I’m not keeping it,” you said when you parted. He backed away to let you move and you self-consciously smoothed the fabric. “It doesn’t fucking fit.”  

He shrugged. 

“That’s fine. She can have it back.” 

“You’re going to give it back to her after fucking someone else in it?” 

He smirked and it turned into a grin, his eyes glinting. 

“She fucked someone else in my bed; she deserves it. Another drink?”  

You nodded and returned to Yoongi’s bedroom to put your clothes back on. When you re-emerged, you took the shot from Yoongi and dropped the dress, unfolded, back into the box. 

Tags: @e-cm, @chimmisbae, @purplewhalewrites

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three