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@thatgrljorge

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Working on Chapter 16 of The Space Between Us. This one is gonna be juicyyyy.
Find me on AO3
Spelling mistakes? I guarantee neither of us saw those at 3:00 AM Monday Morning.
Not So Collaborative Composition
Chapter 4
(Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3)
For a while, things seemed to settle into a fragile peace. Â
You and Chan were still pushing through the final stages of the project, but the tension had eased. You were working togetherâreally working togetherâin a way you hadnât before. It wasnât perfect, but it was⌠something.Â
There were still moments of doubt, still moments when your insecurities flared up, but you began to trust him more. He was rightâyou didnât have to do everything on your own. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were part of something, not just fighting to stand alone.Â
The Space Between Us
Chapter 5
(Chapter 1 P1 / Chapter 1 P2 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4)
You sit in a waiting room with a dozen other women, flicking your thumb over the edge of your number slip. Their lives murmur around youâsnatches of conversation, the rustle of paperwork, the soft ding of the reception bell. When they call your name, you stand on unsteady legs.
The doctor is kind.
She speaks gently, asking questions, and inputting numbers into the system. You lie back for the ultrasound, heart in your throat, muscles stiff with anticipation and dread and something like awe. The room is dim, and the machine hums quietly.
She applies the warmed gel onto your skin, gliding the wand easily with the help of the lubricant. As she scans for the baby you look at the blurry black-and-white screen and squint, trying to decipher shapes that donât look like anything you recognize.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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And all of this at once.
I'll just leave this here...
i've never done crack but i assume it feels like when you get comments on your ao3 fic
The Space Between Us
Chapter 4
(Chapter 1 P1 / Chapter 1 P2 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 5)
Itâs been two weeks since you moved out. Two weeks of long workdays and sleepless nights. Having your stomach tied in knots and eating just enough to not pass out. Your daily routine still feels normal. Still doing facials, still doing skin forward makeup for big and small names alike. Itâs when you get to your studio apartment that reminds you of how different your life now is.
As much as you are putting on a brave face for your friends and coworkers, your insides are as bare and empty as your new apartment. Functional, livable, but no real joy.
Felix texts every day.
Sometimes memes, sometimes just pictures of his food, or what heâs baked recently. He even sends updates on what the guys are doingâgoofy pictures and chaotic videos. Chris is never in them, whether by design or accident, youâre grateful. Youâre not sure which would hurt more: not seeing him in the updates or catching a glimpse of him after all this time.
Probably the latter.
Youâve deliberately avoided social media and any forums for that reason alone. You even went as far as removing all their songs from your playlistsâunable to hear his voice without that deep ache blooming in your chest. You know that if you saw his kind eyes, heard that familiar, melodic warmth, you would crumple and run straight back to him.
But the space between you is still heavy with things left unsaid. With issues that were never fixed.

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Not So Collaborative Composition
Chapter 3
(Chapter 1 / Chapter 2)
The next few days were an exercise in avoidance. You both buried yourselves in the project, but the air between you was charged with a new kind of animosity. Every interaction felt like a power struggle, each of you trying to outdo the other, trying to prove who was right. You didnât speak to each other unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, the words felt clipped, almost resentful.Â
And yet, there was something there. Beneath the friction, the anger, the frustration, there was an undeniable spark. The more you fought, the more you realized how much you were drawn to him. How much you needed to be near him, even if it was only to challenge him. The tension between you was palpable, almost charged with the kind of raw energy that made your chest tight and your heart race, even when you hated it.Â
It was during one of these long, late nights in the studio that everything shifted again. You were both pushing through the final stages of the project, trying to wrap things up before the deadline; the air felt thick with exhaustion. You were sitting side by side, not speaking, just working. You could feel Chanâs presence beside you, could feel the weight of his gaze whenever it flickered over your work. Every now and then, youâd catch him looking at you, his expression unreadable, but it sent a shiver down your spine.Â
Suddenly, he broke the silence.Â
The Space Between Us
Part 1 of Chapter 1
(Chapter 1 Part 2 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3)
Your phone lights up.
[#DispatchExclusive] âAre they dating?â Netizens speculate over Christopher Bang and Seo Ji-eun relationshipâŚ
You already know what the pictures look like. Youâve seen variations of them for years.
Him ducking into a van.
Her behind him, just close enough to look deliberate.
The blurred freeze-frame of him laughing at something she said.
No one knows heâs married.
So, to the world, itâs fun. A tease. Something to gossip about.
To you, itâs your husband, again, being speculated like heâs free.
The comments roll in fast.
âTheyâd be such a power couple.â âOmg just date already.â âHeâs totally her type.â âHe keeps looking at her, Iâm sorry đâ
You swipe out before you start watching the edits.
You already know thereâll be a video with sad music, slow-zooming on the way heâs looking vaguely in her direction.
A key turns in the front door.
You close the browser window on reflex, like youâve been caught doing something you shouldnât.
âPretty? Iâm home,â Chris calls, voice warm and rough with the long day.
The apartment smells like tonightâs dinnerâsoy broth and garlic and the sesame oil you always forget to cap tightly. Youâve left his bowl covered with a plate to keep it warm. Itâs been ready for over an hour.
âIn here,â you answer, trying to smooth your tone.
He steps into the kitchen wearing sweats and the oversized company hoodie he shrugged on over whatever stage clothes they peeled off him. His hair is still styled, sprayed into place, but his eyes have that glassy, overused look of too many lights pointed at him.
He sees the food first.
Then you.
His whole face softens. âYou waited for me?â
âI always wait up for you.â You say, small sad smile.
â read the full chapter on ao3 â
In a Dream
Part 1 of Chapter 1
The house was quiet, filled with that afternoon light that makes everything look softer, golden edges bleeding in through the wide windows. White bedding, wood frame, wood floorsâall of it glowing in a calm brightness that felt like safety.
You pushed the bedroom door open and there he was. Chris. Sprawled across the bed in gray sweatpants that were slung low on his hips. Bare chested and stretched across the bed on his back like he belonged to the room as much as the light did. He had his laptop balanced on a pillow beside him, the soft glow of the screen painted across his face.
He looked up at you instantly, gaze sharpening the second he caught your expression. That little crease between his brows appeared, and then his voiceâlow, warm, protective.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â
You didnât answer. Couldnât.
Instead, you crossed the room, crawled up between his legs, and let your body drape over his chest. His hand found your side without hesitation, steady and grounding, thumb stroking across your ribs like heâd been waiting to comfort you all along.
Then, you kissed him.
Slow at first, then deeper, letting the softness of his mouth undo you. His lips gave way like he wanted every ounce of youâmeeting you, matching you, encouraging you until you were breathless against him. It wasnât just passion; it was the kind of kiss that felt like home.
When you finally broke away, you stayed there, cheek pressed against his chest, tracing absent patterns over his ribs while his heartbeat settled beneath your ear. Thatâs when your gaze flicked sideways to the glow of his laptop screen.
You felt him notice. His hand twitched, fingers brushing the edge of the computer like he wasnât sure what to doâshield it, move it, let you see. He didnât close it, didnât push it away, just fidgeted nervously, as though whatever lived on that screen mattered to him in a way, he wasnât ready to explain.
The contrast made you smile.
This man whoâd given you his body, his lips, his chest to rest on⌠was shy about a piece of glowing glass and pixels. And somehow, that vulnerability felt even more intimate than the kiss.
So, you stayed there, sprawled on him in the bright, airy quiet; both of you wrapped in a silence that wasnât heavyâit was full of unspoken things, waiting for their time.
His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, every breath steady beneath your cheek. The kiss had quieted into something softerâyour body still draped over him. Right between his legs, your head pillowed on the warm span of his chest. The world outside the bed felt distant, muted, like the walls and windows were holding everything still just for you two.
Chris reached for his laptop again, careful not to jostle you, shifting it into one hand like heâd done it a thousand times before. His other arm curved around your back, fingertips occasionally brushing lazy circles against your side. He worked like that, absentmindedly tapping keys, but never moving you, never hinting you should get up.
If anything, he adjusted to you.
Screen tilted so the light wouldnât catch your eyes. Breath kept quiet, slow, like he didnât want to disturb your rest.
Your lids grew heavy, weighed down by warmth and that unspoken safety. You thought briefly of the kidsâone finally napping. The oldest tucked in his room with headphones, then the last laughing at their friendâs house.
The house was still, for once. No cries, no questions, no little footsteps. Just you and him.
Your fingers splayed against his skin as you sank deeper, his heartbeat syncing with the pull of sleep. And he let you. One hand typing, the other stroking your hair, your back.
Steady as ever and warm as the sunlight.
You didnât even realize when the laptopâs clicking faded into the backdrop of your dreams. Only that his chest stayed firm beneath your cheek, and his hand never left you. You could rest there for as long as you neededâand heâd make sure nothing disturbed you.
You hadnât meant to fall asleep. Youâd only meant to kiss him, to crawl up his body and breathe him in until the ache in your chest dissolved. But his warmth had a way of undoing you.
You drifted there, cheek pressed to his chest, lulled by the faint tick of keys and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Every now and then, when you stirred, his lips brushed your hairline â absent, instinctive kisses, as if he couldnât help himself.
Sleep took you without asking.
Come read the rest on my AO3 >
Writing fanfiction be like...
I have a few stories written out but not finished. The one I work on the most is called "The Space Between Us" and this is me trying to work through what I already have planned...
By the time I post everything there will be at least 32 chapters and over 110,000 words.
Come join me on ao3.
Not so Collaborative Composition
Chapter 1
(Chapter 2)
The lecture hall hummed with the quiet chatter of students as they filtered in; some still half-dazed from their early morning routines. You slipped into a seat toward the middle of the room, as alwaysâclose enough to the front to avoid being invisible, but far enough back to stay unnoticed. The professor, a wiry man with an unkempt salt-and-pepper beard, fiddled with the projector at the front of the room, muttering under his breath as the screen flickered repeatedly. It wasnât until the room had quieted down that he finally spoke, his voice cutting through the low murmurs.Â
âWelcome to Collaborative Composition 401,â he said, the edge in his voice carrying authority. âBy the end of this semester, each of you will contribute to a fully realized projectâone that will require more than just your individual talent. It will require collaboration, the ability to work with someone else, to compromise. This isnât just an individual grade. Itâs a collaborative one. You all understand what that means, right?âÂ
You let the words wash over you, but they didnât settle well. Collaboration wasnât your strength. You thrived in isolation, crafting every note, every lyric, every arrangement with meticulous care. The thought of sharing that control, of surrendering your vision to another person, felt suffocating.Â
Then in walks Christopher Chan Bang. Â

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The Space Between us
Part 2 of Chapter 1
(Chapter 1 Part 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)
His smile falters, just slightly. You see it happen and want to snatch the words back.
âIââ He glances at the clock and winces. âIâm sorry. There was a meeting after recording and thenââ he pantomimes some vague spiral of chaos, a mix of choreo talk and producers and managers, ââyou know how it is.â
You do know how it is. Thatâs the problem.
He crosses the space in three long steps and bends to press his mouth to your hair, then your temple, then finally finds your lips.
âHi,â he breathes against your mouth, softer. Like this part he remembers how to do. âMissed you.â
You kiss him back because you always do. Because you do miss him. Because your body still reacts to him like he hung the moon and wired your nervous system on the way.
He pulls back just enough to look at you.
âYou ate already?â he asks.
âA while ago.â You stack your hands around his forearm where it rests on the back of your chair. The hoodie sleeve is soft under your fingers; his skin is hot and solid beneath. âI didnât know when youâd get home.â
âI know.â His voice goes quiet, guilt-tinged. âIâm sorry.â
He says it like heâs apologizing for being five minutes late, not three weeks emotionally absent.
You hum something noncommittal. âYour foodâs there. It might be a little soggy.â
He brightens, grateful for the change in subject. âNo, itâs perfect. Youâre perfect.â He kisses the top of your head once more and pulls away to wash his hands.
In a Dream
Part 2 of Chapter 1
(Chapter 1 Part 1)
When your eyes fluttered open again, the light in the room had shifted. Warmer, softer, the day stretched further toward evening.
The first thing you registered was the slow, steady rise of his chest beneath you â the same safe rhythm that had carried you off. The second thing you noticed was his voice.
âHey, pretty. You awake?â
Low, teasing, but impossibly tender. His laptop was gone, tucked somewhere off to the side. Both hands were on you now â one draped heavy and protective across your back, the other absentmindedly stroking your hair.
You made a soft, groggy sound in response, burrowing closer into his chest. His laugh rumbled underneath your ear.
âMm, thought so. You drooled on me.â
Your head jerked up, scandalized, only for him to grin and tilt his chin toward the faint damp patch on his skin. Heat rising to your cheeks.
âShut up,â you muttered, voice rough with sleep, burying your face again in defiance.
Chris chuckled, pressing his lips to the top of your head. âIâm kidding. Youâre cute when you sleep. Mouth all soft, little snoresâŚâ He trailed off, mock sighing dramatically. âAlmost made me wanna nap too, but someone had to be on laptop duty.â