#I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mechaknight-98 · 2 days

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No Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Jihyo Park

Series Masterlist Here

Operator’s notes: Please not while there is a lot of plot and fluff in this story there is an insane amount of smut. Also my current longest posted fic so enjoy more Jihyo.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd's roar filled the arena, a wave of energy that sent shivers down Jihyo's spine. As the music started, her body moved effortlessly, each step, each note, perfectly synchronized with her group. But this time, something was different. There was a fire burning within her, a drive that pushed her to give more than she ever had before.

Voljune's presence was strong, their memories and emotions intertwining with hers, fueling her performance. With each beat, Jihyo felt Voljune's pride and determination course through her veins. She wasn’t just performing; she was leading, and guiding her group with a newfound strength that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the music.

As the chorus hit, Jihyo glanced out into the crowd, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. And then, she saw him. Dio, standing near the front, his smile radiant as he danced along with the music. His presence was a beacon, a source of light that filled her with warmth.

*“Look at him,”* Voljune’s voice echoed in her mind, soft and admiring. *“He’s so happy, so free. We need to protect that, Jihyo.”*

*“We will,”* Jihyo replied internally, her heart swelling with emotion. *“No matter what it takes, we’ll keep him safe. He deserves this happiness, and we’ll ensure he keeps it.”*

The thought of Dio, his laughter, and his joy, gave Jihyo a renewed sense of purpose. She could feel Voljune’s memories of survival, of pushing through impossible odds, blending with her own desire to succeed. It wasn’t just about being the best; it was about being the best for them—for Dio, for Twice, for everyone who believed in her.

With a final burst of energy, Jihyo led the group into the climax of the performance, her voice soaring, her movements more powerful than ever. The crowd responded, their cheers vibrating through the stage, a tangible confirmation of the connection she had forged with them.

As the final note lingered in the air, Jihyo stood tall, her chest heaving with exertion, but her heart full. She glanced at Dio one last time, and his beaming smile was all the reward she needed.

*“We’re stronger together,”* Voljune whispered, the warmth of their shared bond enveloping Jihyo.

*“And we’ll keep getting stronger,”* Jihyo thought back, determination burning brightly within her. *“For him, for us, for everything we’re fighting for.”*

After the performance and a few celebratory drinks with the other members, Jihyo headed home, her body buzzing with the high of the night. The energy from the stage, the cheers of the crowd, and the warmth of her group’s love still swirled in her chest as she entered the code for their small place.

As the door clicked open, a wave of something unexpected surged through her—desire, anticipation. Voljune stirred within her, not just an idle whisper in the back of her mind but a powerful presence, closer than usual. Jihyo paused at the doorway, her hand gripping the handle as an unspoken sensation coursed between them.

Voljune’s voice broke through, her tone unsteady, *“I... I’m feeling something strange. Your hormones, Jihyo... they’re spiking.”*

Jihyo blinked, slightly amused by the reaction. *“What do you mean?”*

*“You’re about to start ovulating,”* Voljune responded, her voice husky, edged with something unfamiliar. *“I’ve never felt anything like this before... this intensity. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself around Dio.”*

Jihyo chuckled softly, her hand relaxing on the door. *“Oh, I think he won’t mind. You know how he is.”* The thought of Dio brought warmth to her chest, a feeling of safety and love that grounded her. She pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, quieting her footsteps as she walked down the hallway to their shared bedroom.

The soft glow from the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle silver hue across the room. Dio lay peacefully asleep, his broad frame sprawled comfortably across the bed. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, and calming, and Jihyo’s heart swelled at the sight of him. For a moment, she just stood there, watching him. His presence felt like home—a grounding force amidst the chaos of her life.

*“He looks so at peace,”* Voljune murmured, her voice softer now, full of wonder. *“You’re right... he shouldn’t be alive, after everything. But... I’m happy he is.”*

Jihyo smiled, her heart warming at Voljune’s admission. *“Me too,”* she whispered.

She quietly set down her things and tiptoed to the bathroom, slipping into the shower. The warm water cascaded over her, easing the lingering tension in her muscles from the performance. As the steam enveloped her, she reflected on the conversation with Voljune. She could feel how Voljune’s emotions were intertwined with hers more deeply now—the shared pulse of excitement, desire, even curiosity. Voljune had never experienced these human urges in such a raw, immediate way. It was as if their bond was evolving, becoming something more intricate, more unified.

Jihyo stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and slipped into something comfortable. Quietly, she padded back into the bedroom, the soft shuffle of her feet barely disturbing the stillness.

Sliding into bed beside Dio, she felt the familiar warmth of his body against hers. The moment she pressed herself against his back, a deep contentment settled over her. She spooned him gently, her arm draping over his waist, her fingers resting against his chest. Dio stirred slightly in his sleep, his hand unconsciously moving to rest atop hers. Even in his dreams, he sought her out.

*“You know,”* Jihyo whispered internally to Voljune, *“I’ve thought about this a lot. About how he defies everything we know. He’s stronger than he should be. He’s survived things no one else could.”*

Voljune hummed in agreement, their shared thoughts rippling between them like waves. *“It’s more than that though, isn’t it? There’s something about him. Something... beyond us, beyond even my kind.”*

Jihyo’s fingers tightened slightly on Dio’s chest, her mind drifting as she buried her face into the curve of his back. *“Whatever it is, I’m just glad he’s here. Alive. With us.”*

*“So am I,”* Voljune replied softly, her tone full of conviction. *“We’ll protect him, Jihyo. No matter what.”*

As Jihyo’s body relaxed against Dio’s, she felt the subtle, quiet connection between the three of them—herself, Dio, and Voljune—all bound together by something stronger than mere survival. It was love, in its most primal, most protective form.

And in that moment, as she drifted closer to sleep, Jihyo knew that no matter the challenges ahead, they were stronger together. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man peacefully resting beside her—and nothing Voljune wouldn’t do either.

As she embraced him she felt a bizarre texture on his chest. She traced the pattern and a memory flashed into her mind:

As Jihyo’s fingers traced the bizarre pattern on Diabolos’s chest, a sudden wave of foreign memories crashed through her mind, sharp and vivid. She felt Voljune stirring, pulling her consciousness back, and before she could react, the world around her shifted.

The scent of iron and blood filled the air. The echo of ragged breathing and distant screams rang in her ears.

It wasn’t her memory—this was Voljune’s.

Jihyo blinked, disoriented, but the scene before her was all too real. She was no longer in the comfort of her shared bedroom with Dio. Instead, she stood in a cold, dimly lit room—a sterile, metallic chamber that hummed with faint energy, like a place where no warmth could survive.

Diabolos stood at the center, his body hunched over in agony. His skin was pale, and slick with sweat, and his breath came in uneven gasps. His chest, once powerful and broad, was heaving as though something was trying to tear its way out from within. His eyes, normally so full of life, were wide and wild, as though he were trapped inside his own body, fighting against an invisible force.

Voljune, or at least a younger version of her, stood helplessly at the edge of the room, bound by the laws of her kind. She could only watch as her sibling, Ruhan, ripped through Dio’s flesh in a grotesque display of parasitic horror.

Jihyo, feeling every bit of Voljune’s fear and disgust, was frozen in the memory. Her mind screamed, No, not him!

Diabolos’s body convulsed violently, his muscles spasming as the skin on his chest bulged unnaturally. With a sickening crack, something inside him shifted—something dark, monstrous. And then it happened. His chest split open with a wet, gruesome tear, blood splattering the floor as Ruhan, Voljune’s sibling, began to force their way out. He sensed the power of the chained Narset nearby and craved it so he did what he always did he found a new host.

Ruhan wasn’t a being of grace like Voljune. They were savage, and feral, driven by the need to bond with something more powerful, something that could feed their endless hunger for strength. Narset had called to them—promised them dominance, power beyond imagination—and Ruhan had answered.

As Ruhan’s form writhed free of Diabolos’s body, they were like a mass of sinew and tendrils, a horrifying amalgamation of parasitic flesh. Dio’s screams of pain echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the cold metal walls. The sound was pure agony, a sound that could tear through even the most hardened hearts. Narset watched the fire rage inside of her pupil's eyes as he fought to stay alive.

Voljune, still bound by the laws of their kind, watched in horror as her sibling abandoned the man she had grown so attached to. She had known this moment would come—had felt the tension building for weeks as Narset’s presence grew stronger—but she hadn’t been ready for the sheer violence of it. Ruhan had used Dio, fed on him, and then discarded him like a broken vessel.

Narset stood at the far side of the room, her eyes gleaming with twisted terror as Ruhan slithered to her Chained body. She tried to run away and hoped that she could do anything but Ruhan was moving closer.

“No!” Voljune screamed within Jihyo’s mind. “Dio... don’t let them... please... fight it...” But even as she begged, she knew it was futile. The Severing was nearly complete. The process was supposed to kill the host, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.

But Diabolos—he wasn’t like anyone else. Even in his weakest moments, his will was indomitable.

Ruhan fully detached from Diabolos, their grotesque form slithering toward Narset. The room was silent for a moment, save for Diabolos’s labored breathing and the gagging of Narset as Ruhan forced himself into Narset. Dio's chest was a ruin of blood and torn flesh, but he was still alive. He shouldn’t have been, but there he stood, his body trembling as he fought to stay conscious.

And then, with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, Diabolos pushed himself up from his knees, his hand gripping his chest where Ruhan had torn free. His eyes blazed with fury, cutting through the haze of pain. His entire body radiated with an unnatural force, something deeper than physical power—born of his sheer will to survive.

He staggered forward, toward Narset and Ruhan, his lips curled into a snarl.

“I’m not done yet,” Diabolos growled, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

Narset turned, now fully merged as one surprised to see him still standing. For a moment, even she faltered. She had underestimated him—underestimated the force of his spirit. But before Diabolos could make another move, his body collapsed, his strength finally giving out.

Voljune rushed forward, her own form stretching toward him, desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to help him survive. But Narset’s laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “You see, Voljune? He’s already lost. He’s nothing without me.”

Voljune couldn’t respond, couldn’t even speak. She could only focus on Diabolos, on keeping him alive. She pressed her essence into him, trying to heal the worst of the damage, trying to save what little was left of the man she had grown to care for.

As the memory began to fade, Jihyo was pulled back into the present, the familiar warmth of her bedroom returning. She found herself lying beside Dio once more, her hand still resting gently on his chest where the faint scars of the Severing remained. The horror of the memory lingered in her mind, but so did one undeniable truth:

He had survived, and that was enough for now as she snuggled closer to him, and found comfort in his warmth.

The next morning Dio got up early and went over his website to manage any of the recent orders then sent the confirmation and payment to his embroiderer so the clothes could be ready to ship. After that, he decided to make breakfast for Jihyo. Jihyo and Voljune woke up a little later to the smell of cooked meat and a few other sweet-smelling scents, but they couldn’t process that as Jihyo’s body was deep in the throes of desire and lust. She got with a ravenous hunger that food couldn’t fill. She needed dick. Luckily for her, her favorite one was just outside.

She stripped down to her bra and panties before walking outside where she watched Dio with rapacious eyes. Dio was so caught up in cooking though that he didn’t notice the gaze of a hungry lioness watching him. He didn’t notice her inching closer as he finished until she pounced on him when he had finished the dishes.

He was startled when Jihyo grabbed his shoulders before turning him around and violently kissing him. She smelled good to him almost irresistibly so. This was in part due to Voljune knowing Dio and what made his heart race, and making Jihyo’s pheromones mimic it.

“God you smell so good,” Dio said as his head swam with lust. Jihyo smiled as his eyes lost focus. She rubbed her thighs together in anticipation, before grabbing him and bringing him into another sloppy kiss. Voljune couldn’t hold back anymore as she dialed up her and Jihyo’s sensitivity to as high as it could go. When she broke this kiss and stared at Dio he didn’t see Jihyo or even Voljune he saw his woman radiating sex as she beckoned him back to their bedroom. Jihyo smiled before locking the door.

“You’re not leaving this room until you can’t get it up.” She said before finding his box of condoms and throwing them out of the room. Dio gulped terrified and turned on. His dick painfully erect peeked through his pants. Jihyo smiled as she closed the distance while taking her bra off. When she climbed on the bed the only thing on both of her minds was draining Dio dry.

“Are you ready?” Jihyo said in an almost lullaby tone which reached the dazed Dio. He nodded slowly making Jihyo smile as she pulled down his sweatpants freeing his cock. Jihyo began to lick the underside of his shaft going from base to tip. Slowly she would trace his cock’s silhouette with her tongue and he’d watch the excruciating torture tear his brain apart and mend it barely back with the pleasure she granted.

��Fuck Jihyo just ride me I can’t take it anymore!” Dio growled as his erection became painful from her work. Jihyo smiled accepting his readiness. She crawled to his face and looked into his eyes. All she could see was a deep lust that mirrored how she felt. She smiled and said,

“Oh, you really want me. You must love me,” she said happily. Dio eyes rolled back as she aligned him with her pussy and slowly sank down. When their hips became flush Jihyo moaned in ecstasy. “Fuck!!! you fill me so well,” Jihyo screamed before slowly bucking her hips trying to adjust how her walls cling to Dio’s cock and she can barely contain the pleasure radiating off of her. It was too much and after three bounces she was cumming all over Dio’s cock, but lucky for her Voljune had her back and her body was ready to go in seconds.

“Okay Dio Fuck me,” Jihyo said and Dio began thrusting into her. His hands rested on her sexy hips and abs as he thrust in and out of her. Jihyo was a sodden wailing mess, as she fell deeper and deeper into the ocean of pleasure Dio and Voljune were giving her. Voljune was also delirious from it all as she felt all of what Jihyo felt. Dio in a weak attempt at revenge reciprocated the same slow tortuous pace Jihyo had subjected him to as she could barely keep it together while he pounded her deep.

“Fuck you’re hitting my G-spot,” Jihyo moaned as she came again. She looked down and pulled Dio to be on top of her, as she wrapped his legs around him.

“Fuck me, please!” Jihyo begged Diabolos.

“Please fucking cum in me,” Jihyo says as her pussy contacts tighter massaging a potent large load out of him. Jihyo is heaving trying to catch her breath but Voljune takes over and for the first time truly feels Jihyo's body as her she wraps her hands around her chest and slowly drifts to her clit.

“Fuck this body is so lewd,” she says

“These swollen plump breasts. This firm soft ass. Fuck this sopping sodden mess between my legs.” Voljune moans. Her words force another erection in Dio and Voljune loses it.

“God yes. Fuck make us serve no other purpose than to be your semen repository. Drown my pussy in your cum. Voljune watches with lusty glee as Dio plows into her. She watches the way her breasts jiggle and reaches out to suck on the left one while Dio continues plowing her pretty pussy. Voljune convulses as another orgasm takes her body. Unable to go any further she tries to convince herself that she can milk another orgasm out of Dio but her body is too tired to and heaving for breath. She smiles along with Jihyo at Dio who’s still hard staring at her magnificent body. Just as she tries to mount another round Jihyo’s phone goes off. Jihyo groaned softly as she looked at her phone, the familiar name lighting up the screen: Dahyun. She glanced over at Diabolos, his presence still filling the room with the lingering intensity of their earlier moment. His body, all burly and imposing, was still poised, but there was something different now. His sharp, almost predatory gaze from earlier had softened considerably. He was smiling at her, but this time, it wasn’t the fierce, consuming look that had sent heat coursing through her veins. Instead, there was a boyish sweetness to his expression—a gentle, almost shy joy that seemed to settle into the lines of his face.

"Hey, Dubu," Jihyo answered, still catching her breath from the earlier tension, "what's going on?"

Dahyun’s bright voice came through the speaker, full of energy as always. "Hey, unnie! DJ, Chewy, and I are going to that restaurant we were talking about—you want to join with Dio?"

Jihyo ran her hand through her hair, eyes drifting back to Diabolos. He was still watching her with that same tempered smile, the type of smile that made her heart squeeze in a completely different way than his fiery, more possessive looks did. It was warm, and content. His energy now was far from the imposing presence he so often carried. He seemed soft, relaxed—almost childlike in his joy like he was perfectly at peace just being here with her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering on the scar that was etched across his chest. It was a stark reminder of the battles he had fought—both the physical ones and the internal wars she could only imagine. And yet, here he was, his fierce nature temporarily melted into something far more innocent, far more gentle.

“We have unfinished business with him,” Voljune’s voice purred in the back of her mind, her presence filled with immense desire. Jihyo could feel the yearning, the deep pull Voljune had towards Diabolos. It mirrored her own, but there was something more primal in Voljune’s desires, something raw that echoed through their shared bond. Jihyo nodded internally, fully aware of what both she and Voljune wanted to resume. But she was also acutely aware that they hadn’t hung out with their members in what felt like forever.

I want this too, Jihyo thought to herself, her eyes flicking back to Diabolos, who was now stretching lazily, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breath catch again. But there was something equally important in reconnecting with her friends. The love she had for her members was a different kind, but no less essential.

"Sure, we'll be there," Jihyo said happily into the phone, and even though Voljune grumbled internally, there was a sense of agreement. There would be time later for their unfinished business.

Diabolos’s inquisitive gaze followed the shift in her mood. His expression was curious as if sensing the subtle tug-of-war happening within her. "What is it, Yo-yo?" he asked, his voice soft and affectionate, using the nickname that always made her smile.

Jihyo’s heart fluttered at his gentle tone. "Well, Chewy, DJ, and Dubu are going to that K-BBQ restaurant we’ve been talking about," she explained, watching his reaction closely.

His face lit up instantly, a look of pure joy and excitement spreading across his features. The fierceness that was always just beneath the surface melted away completely, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. It was such a stark contrast from the Diabolos she had first met—the one who had been all sharp edges and unrelenting intensity. Now, he was like a kid hearing his favorite friends were coming over to play.

“Oh really?” he said, his tone full of that soft, appreciative joy that always made Jihyo’s heart swell. Voljune stirred within her, the feeling of their connection rippling with warmth as they both observed Diabolos’s shift. His excitement wasn’t just for the food—it was the idea of being with people he cared about, being part of something light and easy.

He is so innocent sometimes, Voljune remarked with gentle affection, her usual hunger tempered by a kind of adoration Jihyo hadn’t felt from her before. It was as if the two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—were seeing a side of Diabolos that softened their edges, made them feel as if they, too, were capable of loving in this childlike, almost pure way.

Jihyo giggled softly, both she and Voljune feeling a surge of playful fondness. "Well, we are. They invited us, so let's get clean and get ready."

Diabolos grinned at her, his joy radiating through the room, and without hesitation, he got up to head for the shower. But before he could disappear into the bathroom, Jihyo reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back gently. There was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes now, a smoldering heat that hadn’t fully disappeared despite the shift in mood. She knew that even in these tender, innocent moments, there was always something stronger, more primal beneath the surface between them.

Her gaze locked with his, and she smiled, her voice dropping to a lower, more seductive tone. “We will continue this later,” she promised, her words laced with an unmistakable intensity. Voljune echoed her, their voices harmonizing in unison within her mind, both filled with the same burning desire.

Diabolos’s eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of that familiar fire returning, but he only smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead softly. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmured before slipping away into the bathroom.

Jihyo watched him go, her thoughts still buzzing with the silent conversation she shared with Voljune. The two of them were so aligned in this moment, both feeling the same deep love for the man who had somehow become their everything. Even in the playful, childlike joy that Diabolos exuded, there was a part of them that wanted to protect him fiercely, to hold onto this tenderness they shared and keep it safe from the darkness that often threatened to consume them all.

As the sound of the shower started, Jihyo smiled to herself, knowing that tonight, they would laugh, eat, and share joy with their friends—but later, there would be time for more. Time to continue what had been so deliciously interrupted.

Jihyo stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she heard the soft hum of the shower water in the next room. Her reflection caught the warmth in her eyes, the lingering blush that hadn't quite left her cheeks after her earlier exchange with Diabolos. The excitement of seeing her members—her other family—combined with the quiet thrill of being with Diabolos like this made her feel a warmth deep in her chest.

“He has softened, hasn’t he?” Voljune mused, her voice cutting through Jihyo’s thoughts. “He was once all fire and intensity. But now... look at him. He’s so content with just being here with us, with you.”

Jihyo smiled, nodding as she dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrist. “I’ve noticed,” she replied internally. “It’s like he’s a different person when we’re alone like this. There’s still all that strength, all that power, but it’s so... gentle now.”

“And he’s so in love with you,” Voljune said with a soft chuckle. “It’s adorable. That energy of his used to be so imposing, so aggressive. Now? He just radiates joy when he’s with you, almost like a little kid.”

Jihyo laughed aloud as she glanced back at the closed bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute how he lights up around our friends, too. I think it reminds him of something simpler, something more innocent.” She leaned against the dresser, arms folded, thinking about how Diabolos had changed since they’d started dating. It was as if being around her, and by extension, her members had chipped away at some of the harshnesses he’d built up over the years.

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Diabolos emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, beads of water clinging to his broad shoulders. He was wrapped in a towel, steam trailing behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found Jihyo immediately, softening with that boyish joy she had come to love.

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

“He’s more like us than I ever thought,” Voljune remarked. “That playful love of life, how he cares so deeply for the people around him. It’s different from his old intensity, but it suits him.”

Jihyo nodded, internally agreeing with Voljune’s sentiment. Diabolos had always been strong, and intense, but it was this new side of him—this softer, more open version—that made her fall in love with him even more.

Finally ready, the two of them left the apartment and began their walk to the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with the usual evening energy, the soft hum of cars, and the chatter of people filling the air. Jihyo reached for Diabolos’ hand instinctively, lacing her fingers through his. His hand, though much larger and rougher than hers, fit perfectly, the warmth between them so natural.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will challenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Diabolos glanced down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I’ve missed hanging out with them too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “I like how they make you laugh. You always seem so light and carefree around them.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “They ground you, in a way. It’s good for both of us—being around them. And it’s good for Diabolos, too. They bring out this pure joy in him, something that we both cherish.”

As they walked, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about past moments with the members, and laughing at shared memories. Jihyo and Voljune, internally, marveled at how Diabolos was so effortlessly in sync with them, how his softer side blended perfectly with Jihyo’s energy. Even as they joked and teased, there was an unspoken flirty dialogue weaving between the three of them—a shared connection that needed no words.

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool evening air and each other’s company. As they neared the restaurant, the neon sign glowing in the distance, Jihyo felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. She had her members, her friends, and this man—this man who had become her everything.

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we are.”

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his own skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her own energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will rechallenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her own cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we really are.”

As the group talks Jihyo begins to feel lightheaded as her hormones start striking again. She looks to Dio and says, “Hey babe I need to go the restroom can you help me,” every people pleaser he follows when Jihyo locks him in and forcefully grabs his cock he understands. Jihyo and Voljune are barely coherent enough to have his dick go in the right hole as Jihyo bends over the sink

“We have to be quick!” Dio asserts

Jihyo nods at her lust-addled brain. Dio quickly rams into her tight hole. Jihyo can only whimper as he takes her. Enraptured by her body he secures a tit and massages it spiking both their pleasure.

At this rate, Jihyo and Voljune don't last long before they cum again. Dio exits her and cleans them up a bit when Jihyo’s mind returns.

Her gaze is possessive as she says, “I'm going to need more from you when we get back home.” Dio smiles as they head back out. The rest of their little date is pretty brief after that. After the date, Jihyo Voljune and Dio were exhausted and instead of counting their fun they got a good night's sleep and hoped to release some more tension tomorrow

It was a rare lazy morning at Jihyo and Diabolos’ small, cozy apartment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. Diabolos was sprawled out on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels while Jihyo leaned against him, scrolling through her phone. Their bodies fit perfectly together as if they were always meant to be in this peaceful bubble.

*“I wish we could stay like this all day,”* Voljune whispered in Jihyo’s mind, the warmth of contentment wrapping around them both. *“No interruptions. Just us.”*

Jihyo couldn’t agree more. After the whirlwind of their dinner last night, she was hoping today could be quiet—a much-needed day of rest with just Diabolos. She smiled as she watched Dio drift in and out of sleep next to her.

But then, the doorbell rang.

Jihyo groaned softly, knowing full well who it could be. Only one person rang the doorbell with such enthusiasm. Voljune sighed in unison with her, a ripple of frustration passing between them. Diabolos glanced down at Jihyo, sensing the shift in energy.

“Who could that be?” he asked, sitting up.

Jihyo gave him a knowing look. “Take a wild guess.”

The doorbell rang again, followed by a series of playful knocks. Diabolos chuckled as he stood, pulling Jihyo up with him. “Let me guess—Nayeon?”

“Yup,” Jihyo replied with an exasperated smile, but there was affection behind it. *“She always knows when to show up at the worst possible time.”*

Voljune huffed in agreement. *“We were supposed to have the day to ourselves.”*

As Jihyo opened the door, she was greeted by a beaming Nayeon and her equally cheerful boyfriend, Mark. Nayeon wasted no time, pushing past Jihyo into the apartment.

“Hey, Jihyo-yah!” Nayeon exclaimed, her voice full of energy. “Mark and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought, why not drop by?” She grinned mischievously. “You weren’t busy, were you?”

Mark offered a sheepish smile from behind her, clearly used to Nayeon’s spontaneous visits. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance. “Well, actually—”

Diabolos, ever the gentle giant, stepped forward and offered a warm smile to the pair. “It’s fine, really. Come on in.”

Jihyo shot him a look that said *Really?* but her irritation quickly faded. Nayeon was already making herself at home, tossing her bag onto the chair and plopping down on the couch next to Diabolos. Mark followed suit, though with a bit more hesitation, clearly aware of the unspoken tension in the room.

Voljune chimed in again, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone. *“You know what? It’s fine. Let’s just let it go. Nayeon brings a certain... chaotic joy, doesn’t she?”*

Jihyo sighed but smiled inwardly. *“Yeah, I guess she does.”* She couldn’t stay mad at Nayeon for long, and besides, her best friend’s presence was infectious. As much as she craved peace, she also loved how Nayeon always brought life and laughter wherever she went.

“So, what are we doing today?” Nayeon asked, completely oblivious to the plans Jihyo and Diabolos may have had. “We should totally have a movie marathon! Or maybe play some games!”

Diabolos chuckled, clearly entertained by Nayeon’s boundless energy. “A movie marathon sounds good to me.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes playfully, giving in to the inevitable. “Alright, fine. But *I* get to pick the first movie.”

Nayeon gasped dramatically. “Jihyo picking the movie? That’s a dangerous game, Dio. She’ll have us watching tearjerkers all day.”

Jihyo swatted at Nayeon’s arm, laughing. “You act like my taste is that bad.”

Mark, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in. “I don’t know, Nayeon. I think Jihyo has pretty good taste. What about a compromise—something everyone can enjoy?”

As they bantered back and forth, Jihyo’s initial frustration melted away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging. This was her family, her people. Nayeon’s chaotic energy, Mark’s calming influence, and Diabolos’ quiet presence all balanced each other out in the best way possible.

*“See?”* Voljune murmured, her earlier frustration now completely gone. *“This is why we love them. It’s never quiet, but it’s always fun.”*

Before Jihyo could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced down at the screen and groaned inwardly.

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered as she saw the group chat light up with notifications from the rest of the members. Dahyun, Mina, Chaeyoung, Sana, and Jeongyeon were all chiming in, asking if they could come over too.

“Oh no,” Jihyo said, eyes widening as she realized what was happening. “Nayeon, did you tell everyone we were hanging out?”

Nayeon shrugged nonchalantly. “I might’ve mentioned it in the group chat...”

Jihyo facepalmed, but she couldn’t help but laugh. *“Well, there goes our quiet day.”*

Diabolos laughed softly, wrapping an arm around Jihyo’s shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s alright. The more, the merrier, right?”

Jihyo leaned into him, smiling despite herself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Within the next hour, the apartment was buzzing with energy. Dahyun showed up with DJ and Tzuyu in tow, carrying bags of snacks and drinks. Jeongyeon arrived with a mischievous grin, already scheming some sort of prank with Dahyun. Sana arrived latched to Broly’s hip with her trademark bubbly personality and champagne. Momo brought Daizohan. Chaeyoung and Mina were the last to arrive, holding hands and giggling like they were in on a secret as their boyfriends followed behind with quiet appreciative smiles.

As the apartment filled with laughter, conversation, and the smells of takeout, Jihyo looked around at her members, their partners, and Diabolos beside her, her heart swelling with warmth.

*“It’s chaotic,”* Voljune said softly, her tone full of affection. *“But it’s our chaos.”*

Jihyo nodded internally. *“Yeah. It really is.”*

Diabolos wrapped his arm around Jihyo to ground himself.

“Is someone anxious?” Jihyo asked as she looked up at her boyfriend.

Diabolos smiled as he looked down at her before kissing her forehead, “not anymore,”

Despite the unexpected visit and the way the day had spiraled into a full-on party, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life she had built with Diabolos, her members, and her extended family. They were loud, spontaneous, and a little over the top, but she wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

Diabolos caught her eye, giving her a soft, knowing smile. Without words, they shared a moment of quiet understanding amid the noise and laughter.

It was perfect, just the way it was.

As the evening wore on, the apartment buzzed with conversations in different corners, and everyone relaxed and enjoyed the impromptu gathering. Jihyo found herself sitting on the couch with Mina, Diabolos, and Mina’s boyfriend, Richter, a soft-spoken but kind-hearted man who had a natural talent for blending into the group despite being relatively new to their circle.

The four of them were speaking English, a comfortable language for Mina and Richter, and something Diabolos seemed to switch into effortlessly. Jihyo was doing her best to keep up, her English was solid but slower as she worked through her sentences. Diabolos, on the other hand, spoke it fluently, though there was a noticeable difference in the way he sounded compared to Richter.

Mina tilted her head, her curiosity piqued by the way Diabolos' voice carried through the conversation. “Dio, your English... it sounds so different. It’s not like the Americans I know.”

Richter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Most Americans have a more nasal, higher tone, but you… yours is deeper. Almost throaty.”

Diabolos chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in that low, gravelly way. “I guess I’ve always sounded like this. Not much I can do about it.”

Mina squinted playfully at him and then laughed. “You sound like a bear! So gruff and deep. It’s like your voice comes from the earth, not your throat.” she said as she made herself appear bigger as if mimicking a bear.

The joke caught everyone by surprise, and Jihyo laughed along with them, but as Mina’s words sank in, they triggered something deep inside her, something Voljune had been quietly holding back.

Suddenly, the room around her seemed to blur and shift. Jihyo’s heart skipped a beat as a flood of memories—not hers, but Voljune’s—rushed into her mind. She was pulled back into the past, to a moment long before she had ever met Diabolos.

In the memory, Jihyo (or rather, Voljune) was flying through space in a small, dimly lit ship. The atmosphere was tense, thick with uncertainty and dread. Diabolos sat in the co-pilot seat beside her, silent, his face pale and drawn. He hadn’t spoken since the Severing. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but his eyes were far away, distant. There was an overwhelming heaviness in the air—Voljune could feel it even now through Jihyo’s senses.

She looked over at him, at the man who had survived the impossible, who had endured Narset’s brutal Severing. His face was etched with pain, and yet, he was alive. But something was different, something was lost. His voice, when he spoke, had changed. The man she had once known had been replaced by someone else—someone quieter, sadder.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.

“Thank you... for saving me.” His voice was rough, deeper than it had been before. It came from somewhere deep within him as if it had been dragged from the depths of his soul. And the pain in his eyes, that raw, untouchable hurt—it cut Voljune to the core.

At that moment, she realized just how much Diabolos had lost. Not just his voice, but a part of himself. He was no longer the same person she had known before. And neither was she.

The memory faded, and Jihyo blinked back to the present, the warmth of the apartment and the laughter of her friends washing over her like a wave. But the echo of that memory lingered in her chest, heavy and heart-wrenching. Unconsciously, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Diabolos, who had been quietly watching her, noticed immediately. His expression softened as he reached over, gently wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered his voice that same deep, gravelly tone that both Jihyo and Voljune had come to love. “It will be okay.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled as she looked into his eyes, and for a moment, the line between past and present blurred. Voljune’s memories, the weight of their shared experiences, and the love they both had for this man—they all converged into one undeniable truth.

*He survived. And he’s still here.*

She smiled up at him, the tear already forgotten as she leaned into his warmth. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

Voljune, too, stirred gently within her, no longer holding onto the pain of that memory, but instead embracing the comfort of the present. The two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—felt a deep sense of peace at that moment. They had each other, they had Diabolos, and they had their friends.

As the conversation around them resumed, the three of them—Jihyo, Voljune, and Diabolos—shared a quiet, unspoken connection, one built on love, resilience, and an understanding that ran far deeper than words.

As the party wore on fatigue and yawns spread through the group like a plague, but Nayeon in her foresight said, “Sleepover!” Jihyo sighed but Dio relented as the rest of the girls quickly all agreed. She went to her car and pulled out all the matching pajamas she had bought. Everyone laughed except Dio as he began to notice cracks in her smile.

As the party began to wind down, laughter and conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Dio, always quietly observant, noticed Nayeon slipping away from the group, her usual sparkle dimmed by something only he seemed to notice. Jihyo, ever in tune with him, followed his gaze. Standing beside her, Mark also noticed, shifting uncomfortably. But Jihyo placed a gentle hand on his arm, smiling warmly.

“Dio’s got this,” she reassured him. “Let’s give them some space.”

Mark glanced at Dio, who was already making his way toward Nayeon with the quiet, steady calm that had become second nature to him. There was a strength in Dio that wasn’t about physical power, though it was easy to mistake it for that at first. It was in the way he carried himself, a quiet presence that made people feel safe like they could lean on him without being judged.

Dio found Nayeon sitting in a quieter corner of the apartment, staring off into space, her shoulders slightly hunched as if weighed down by unseen thoughts. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her, and gently tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, Nay,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth and care. “Is everything alright?”

Nayeon turned, her face breaking into a forced smile, though the tightness around her eyes betrayed her. She was trying so hard to appear fine, to keep up her strong facade, but Dio could see through it.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” she replied, too quickly, her tone guarded. “Why do you ask?”

Dio studied her for a moment, his eyes kind and patient. He wasn’t the type to push people to share what they weren’t ready to, but his mere presence often encouraged others to open up. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to pressure her.

“It’s nothing,” he said softly, with a reassuring smile. “Just checking in.”

Then, without hesitation, he enveloped her in a gentle hug. Nayeon froze for a second, her defenses wavering, before she finally let out a shaky breath. In his arms, she felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the sense that she didn’t have to carry everything on her own. That was what Dio did—he made you feel safe like your burdens were shared, even if only for a moment.

And that’s when Nayeon broke. Her walls came tumbling down, and she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as her tears spilled over.

“I’m so scared, Dio,” she sobbed. “What if… what if Twice isn’t forever? What if ten years is it? What if… we don’t last?”

From her vantage point, Jihyo smiled gently as she watched Dio comfort Nayeon. She had been in that exact position many times herself, seeking solace in Dio’s quiet strength. There was something about him that made her feel seen and understood in a way no one else could quite match. She turned to Mark, who looked like he wanted to rush over and comfort Nayeon himself, but Jihyo shook her head slightly, her eyes twinkling with reassurance.

“He’s got this,” she whispered, and Mark nodded, settling back.

Out on the balcony, away from prying eyes, Dio led Nayeon to a chair and sat beside her, still holding her hand as she sniffled and wiped her tears. The cool night air helped to calm her, but it was Dio’s steady presence that truly soothed her frayed nerves.

“Twice is already forever,” Dio said, his voice calm but certain.

Nayeon looked up at him, confused and still wiping away tears. “What do you mean?”

Dio leaned back, gazing up at the night sky. “The legacy you’ve built—the hearts you’ve all touched—it’s something that goes beyond this moment, beyond this year, or the next. It’s already part of something bigger.”

Nayeon blinked, trying to process his words, but Dio wasn’t just being philosophical. He knew, better than anyone, how far their impact truly reached. There were worlds, literal worlds, far from Earth where Twice’s music had found its way, where “One” gathered and celebrated the group that had become a universal symbol of love and hope.

“As long as there are stars in the sky, there will always be Once. And as long as there’s Once, there will always be Twice,” he continued, his voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the group—whether you’re on stage together or not. That love, that connection, will last no matter what. You’ve already created something eternal.”

Nayeon’s tears slowed, his words sinking in as a warm sense of comfort filled her. She smiled, a little watery still, but the fear that had gripped her heart began to ease.

“So… you’re saying we’ve already won?” she asked softly, a bit of her usual sass creeping back into her tone.

Dio chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “Yeah, you’ve already won. No matter what comes next.”

Nayeon sniffled again, this time out of relief, and wiped her eyes. “When did you get so soft-hearted?”

Dio shrugged with a playful grin. “I always was.”

Nayeon laughed, a real laugh this time, and the sound filled Dio with quiet satisfaction. Jihyo had told him once that Nayeon needed these moments of reassurance, to feel grounded when her insecurities flared up. And he had learned, from his own pain and struggles, how important it was to remind others of their worth, their impact.

From the balcony, Dio and Nayeon could hear the soft hum of the party continuing inside, but for this moment, it was just the two of them and the silent assurance that everything would be okay.

As they walked back inside, Nayeon shivered in the cool night air. Jihyo’s smile lingered as they rejoined the party, but something stirred within her. The room seemed to shift, subtly at first, as if the air grew thicker, heavier. Then, the sensation deepened, and she felt a pull—Voljune’s presence awakening inside her, memories unfurling like a delicate, intricate web. Her vision blurred slightly, and suddenly, she was no longer in the present.

The scene around her morphed, transporting her into a memory not her own.

---

It was a long time ago, in a strange, desolate place. Voljune's memory opened up fully before Jihyo’s eyes. She saw the room—sterile, cold, and dimly lit. In the center of it stood Diabolos. He was younger then, though not by much, but there was something raw about him, something unrefined. His tall frame looked tense, ready for a fight, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. Beneath the hardness, Jihyo could see it: a quiet vulnerability, a softness that hadn't yet been buried by the years of torment to come.

Voljune had been wary, uncertain. It was her first time seeing him, sensing him. She could feel the power coursing through his veins, but it was more than that. There was something about the way he carried himself, something that spoke not of violence, but of care. He had been thrown into an impossible situation, and yet, his gaze wasn’t hostile. It was searching.

Their eyes met. He had been expecting another enemy. Instead, Voljune felt the unfamiliar sensation of calm, of warmth. Diabolos, though prepared for battle, didn’t strike. He merely stood there, waiting, observing.

“What are you?” his voice was soft, far softer than it should have been for a man of his size. The tone startled Voljune—gentle, almost questioning. It wasn’t the voice of a hardened warrior, but someone seeking to understand.

Voljune hesitated, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t expected this. She had expected brutality, cold calculation. But instead, she saw in Diabolos a strange, disarming kindness that caught her off guard. He wasn’t the monster she had anticipated.

“I’m here to observe,” Voljune had said, her voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Observe?” Diabolos repeated, tilting his head slightly. There was a softness in his eyes now, a flicker of something almost childlike. “What do you want from me?”

That was the first time Voljune had felt it—his compassion. Even then, even in that strange, cold room, Diabolos had carried with him a heart that sought connection. His strength hadn’t been forged in cruelty or dominance but in a quiet, determined desire to protect.

Jihyo could feel the memory washing over her, flooding her with an understanding she hadn’t grasped before. The Diabolos standing before Voljune back then was the same man she knew now. The quiet protector. The gentle giant. He had always been like this, even when the world had tried to harden him.

And then the memory shifted. Jihyo felt it—Voljune’s rising feelings, the moment she began to realize that Diabolos wasn’t just another force of power to contend with. He was something different, something good. She had been drawn to him then, not because of his strength, but because of his heart.

---

The memory faded slowly, and Jihyo found herself back in the present, standing in the middle of the apartment as the party hummed softly around her. She blinked, trying to shake off the vividness of the past. It had been so real, so tangible.

Voljune stirred inside her, an odd sense of apology coming through.

“I’m sorry,” Voljune said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to subject you to all of that. My memories... they can be overwhelming.”

Jihyo smiled softly, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “It’s okay. It helps me know our boyfriend better,” she replied, her tone full of warmth and affection. There was no resentment in her voice, no frustration. Only a deep understanding of who Diabolos truly was, both in the past and now.

Before she could say more, she felt a familiar warmth behind her. Dio had approached quietly, his arms wrapping gently around her waist as he pulled her close. His presence was grounding, his embrace filled with the same tenderness she had seen in that memory.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered softly in her ear, sensing the lingering emotions. “It’ll be okay.”

Jihyo leaned back into him, feeling his strength, but more importantly, feeling his love. They stood there for a moment, enveloped in each other’s warmth, connected not only by the present but by the shared understanding of who they had always been to one another. Eventually, the warmth flooded Jihyo’s core and she turned to Dio. “You my bedroom now,” she whispered.

- - -

Diabolos stood stone-faced as his mind fogged over, the world around him blurring into a distant hum. He could feel it creeping in—the familiar dissonance, the numbness that had plagued him ever since the Severing. A small part of him, the part that Narset had ripped away, left a scar deeper than the physical wound. Sometimes, it felt like a piece of him was still wandering, aimless, and disembodied, an echo of Ruhan’s presence within him. He shuddered.

It wasn’t just a memory, though. There were moments—fleeting, but unbearable—where he could still feel Ruhan beneath the surface, like a parasite never fully exorcised. A phantom, mocking and ever-present, digging into the darkest corners of his mind. He hated it, hated that there was a part of him that could never truly belong to him again. No matter how hard he tried, there was always something lingering, denigrating his thoughts, whispering things he’d rather forget.

Diabolos sighed, trying to shake the weight off his chest, but it clung to him. Then there was a knock. It startled him out of his trance, and he turned around, his brow furrowing as he crossed the room.

When he opened the door, Jiwoo stood there, her expression unreadable. "Hi, Dio," she said softly, “I needed to drop something off.”

Dio blinked, still disoriented from the fog in his mind. “Okay... what is it?”

Without warning, Jiwoo leaned in and kissed him. The suddenness of it jolted Dio, but before he could push her away, a sensation he dreaded washed over him—Ruhan.

For a split second, it was as though something foreign slipped through the kiss, like an invisible thread snaking its way into his body, reigniting the bond he thought he’d broken. His revulsion turned to horror, and his stomach churned as his body reacted, his muscles tensing. He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles whitened. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as he felt the ghost of Ruhan inside him, like a twisted form of possession.

Jiwoo stepped back, confused by his sudden change. “Dio, are you okay?”

He doubled over, struggling to suppress the invasion. His breath came in ragged gasps, and though Jiwoo reached out to help him, he waved her off. “Thanks, Ji. I’m fine. Just... have a good day.”

His voice was strained, but calm enough to keep her from asking questions. She lingered for a moment, her brow furrowed, but then she nodded and left, glancing back over her shoulder with uncertainty.

As soon as she was gone, Dio moved with purpose, heading straight to the mirror in his room. The moment his eyes met his reflection, he saw it.

Ruhan.

There, staring back at him, a twisted version of himself in the glass. Ruhan’s presence wasn’t fully corporeal, but it was unmistakable—his mocking smirk, his cold, calculating gaze. The parasitic twin who’d always reveled in his chaos.

"Hello, Dio," Ruhan greeted, his voice echoing through Dio’s mind as though it came from within the mirror itself. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was a darkness to it that Dio couldn’t ignore.

Dio’s eyes narrowed. His reflection glared back at him, the intensity in his gaze betraying the flood of emotions churning beneath the surface. "I should expel you right here, right now," he said coldly, the anger barely masked.

Ruhan’s smirk grew wider, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Please," he drawled, "you act like this is pleasant for me. You think I wanted to be back inside you? Trust me, Dio, if I had other options, I’d take them. But I need your help."

Dio’s jaw clenched, and his knuckles pressed against the edge of the mirror, the glass cool beneath his fingertips. "Why should I help you? After everything you’ve done—everything you took from me. You think I’ve forgotten?"

Ruhan's smile faltered, his expression hardening for just a moment before he composed himself. "I’m not asking you to forget," he said evenly, "I’m asking you to survive."

Dio’s body tensed, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. "Survive?" he repeated, incredulity lacing his words. "I’ve done that just fine without you."

"Have you?" Ruhan raised a brow, the weight of his presence pressing down on Dio like a heavy fog. "Tell me, how often do you wake up, the fog clouding your thoughts? How often do you feel the emptiness, the part of yourself that was stolen away?"

Dio’s glare sharpened, but Ruhan’s words had struck a nerve. He hated it, hated the truth in them. He could never be whole again, not without the part that had been severed. He could deny it all he wanted, but some nights, the absence was unbearable.

"You don’t need me," Ruhan continued, "but I need you. Orochi has returned."

Dio froze. The name hung in the air like a death sentence.

"Why should I care?" Dio finally asked, though his tone had shifted. His anger was still there, but the uncertainty was creeping in. "After everything, why should I help you—especially you?"

"Because," Ruhan said, his smirk gone now, replaced by something darker, more serious, "Orochi’s return doesn’t just mean trouble for me. It means trouble for you. For Jihyo. For every one you care about."

Dio's hands clenched against the mirror, the glass threatening to crack under the pressure. He wanted to reject it, to reject everything about Ruhan’s presence, but deep down, he knew the truth. This wasn’t just about Ruhan. It was about the bigger picture, the looming threat that had reared its head once again.

"And don’t worry," Ruhan added, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I have no intention of severing you. I need your continued existence... for now."

Dio hesitated, his mind racing. He hated this. He hated the idea of working with the very thing that had destroyed him. But he knew better than to ignore the warnings.

"Fine," Dio said through gritted teeth, his fists unclenching as he let out a slow, controlled breath. "But after this... after Orochi, you leave. And you never come back."

Ruhan’s reflection gave a slow nod, though Dio could sense the amusement underneath. "As you wish," he said, though his smile didn’t fade.

Duo turned away from the mirror, the weight of what had just transpired settling heavily in his chest. The phantom presence of Ruhan still lingered, curling like smoke beneath his skin, making his body feel alien. The room seemed to tilt as his mind fogged over again. There was a plan—a necessary evil—but it still sickened him.

Steeling himself, Dio walked outside just as Jihyo arrived back at their apartment. She was still wearing her radiant smile, her energy as bright as the sun, but the moment her eyes met his, that joy evaporated. A strange, unsettling tension filled the air.

Voljune surged within her, alert and bristling.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layering over each other with venom.

Dio—no, Ruhan—smirked in response, tilting his head slightly. "Ah, sister..." His voice was Dio’s, but it was off as if something deep within had shifted and was no longer aligned. There was a dissonance in his tone, a foreign rhythm. "Please forgive me, but I need to borrow Dio for the time being."

Jihyo flinched at the sound of his words, the way Ruhan twisted Dio's familiar voice into something uncanny. It was like hearing a favorite song distorted, played backward with the melody shattered. Her eyes narrowed as she felt Voljune stir inside her, recognizing the presence of her twin.

Ruhan.

It was impossible to ignore. Dio's usually calm and collected demeanor had been warped, replaced by something darker, more assertive. Even his posture had changed—the easy confidence that Jihyo loved was now edged with an eerie control. She could feel Dio fighting beneath the surface, locked somewhere deep inside himself.

Within Dio's mind, he remained silent, holding firm. Ruhan had pried into his body, but Dio was prepared. He guarded his most vital memories, locking them behind mental barriers. He had learned how Ruhan operated during their previous encounters, and he wouldn't allow the parasite to fully take over again. Still, Dio felt the pull, the struggle to maintain himself as Ruhan exerted more control over his body.

"I know what you're planning, Ruhan," Dio's voice echoed internally. "But I won’t let you sever me again."

Ruhan, nestled inside him, chuckled softly. "Such mistrust... I told you, Dio, I need you alive. Severing you again would be counterproductive to my goals. Besides, Narset—she would never forgive me."

Dio’s heart clenched at the mention of Narset. His mind flickered back to her, and he couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to Narset?"

Ruhan’s laughter died down, his tone shifting to something softer—almost regretful. "She is safe, locked away in a cell where she can't cause any more damage. But she misses you, Dio. She regrets involving you in this mess. She’s sorry for everything."

The remorse in Ruhan's voice was genuine, but Dio didn't trust it. Not entirely. Yet the mention of Narset stirred something in him—a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for so long. He couldn't help but picture her, locked away, her sorrow weighing heavily on her. Still, he couldn't let Ruhan manipulate him.

Meanwhile, Jihyo watched as Dio’s expression flickered with tension. Her instincts screamed at her—Voljune’s energy inside her bristled with fury, ready to confront her twin, but Jihyo held back. She had to tread carefully.

"Dio," she said softly, her voice cutting through the space between them, hoping to reach him. "I know you're still in there."

Ruhan's smirk faltered slightly, but he maintained his control, tilting his head as if amused. "Dio is here, sister, but he is not in control at the moment."

Voljune seethed within her. "Ruhan, I swear, if you hurt him—"

Ruhan's voice came out with a mocking edge. "Hurt him? Why would I? He is valuable to me. I am only borrowing what I need, for the time being."

Jihyo’s heart pounded. She could feel Voljune’s fury building, but she kept her gaze steady, refusing to let Ruhan see any fear. "You don't get to take him, Ruhan. We won’t let you."

Ruhan’s eyes gleamed with something darker. "You act like you have a choice, sister."

Inside, Dio’s thoughts churned, but he remained silent, calculating. He knew Ruhan's power well enough by now and knew what it took to survive against him. But he couldn’t deny the strange truth beneath the surface—Ruhan needed him. There was a twisted logic there, and Dio had to play along, at least for now.

Jihyo took a deep breath, steadying herself as Voljune rallied inside her. Her connection with Dio, though strained by Ruhan's presence, still pulsed with life. And as she held onto that, she refused to let go.

"We'll get you back," Jihyo whispered, more to Dio than to Ruhan, her voice resolute.

Ruhan, still possessing Dio’s body, simply chuckled. "We'll see, sister. We shall see."

As the tension thickened between them, Jihyo felt Voljune’s resolve growing stronger inside her. No matter what it took, she and Dio would face this together—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of themselves.

Dio—no, Ruhan—stood in front of Jihyo with a smirk that was both foreign and unsettling. The familiar warmth and softness she always saw in Dio’s eyes were buried beneath a cold, mocking glint that belonged only to Ruhan. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest, Voljune simmering beneath her skin with rage.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layered with venom, their connection flaring as one.

Ruhan's lips curled into an amused smile. "Ah, sister... Voljune, how you’ve matured. But still so predictable. And you, Jihyo—Dio’s precious little companion. How quaint. But you must know, I’m only borrowing him for a while."

Jihyo's hand clenched at her side, her gaze sharp, but her emotions were a storm beneath the surface. She had learned, thanks to Dio, how to control that storm—to stay calm when faced with something as manipulative as Ruhan. But it wasn’t easy. She could feel Dio trapped somewhere deep inside, struggling, his presence flickering like a distant candle in a storm.

Ruhan took a step closer, tilting his head with a bemused expression. "I’ve always wondered... What do you see in him? Dio, I mean. What draws you to such a... subpar vessel?"

Jihyo’s brow furrowed, a flare of anger igniting in her chest. Voljune, ever in sync with her, pulsed within her consciousness, pushing against the boundaries of her control. Jihyo could feel the heat of her twin's rage, the ancient fury simmering just beneath her skin.

"You’re wrong about him," Jihyo said through clenched teeth. "Dio is more than you could ever understand."

Ruhan chuckled, the sound cold and dismissive. "More? Perhaps. But from where I stand, he is little more than a broken tool—a shattered relic of what he once was." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Still, you’ve attached yourself to him, haven’t you, sister? Why?"

Jihyo held her ground, her eyes fierce as she met his gaze. "Because he’s more than just a vessel. He’s a person, Ruhan. He has a heart, a soul, things you can’t comprehend."

Ruhan narrowed his eyes, his smirk fading into something more calculating. "A heart, a soul..." His voice trailed off, almost bored. "How sentimental. I suppose that’s why you two are so... compatible." He gestured toward Jihyo and Voljune with a flick of Dio's hand. "Your bond is fascinating. Almost perfect synchronization. It’s admirable, truly. If only your dear Diabolos had that same potential."

Jihyo felt a ripple of indignation, her blood boiling as Voljune surged within her. She could feel her twin’s ancient power coiling and ready, her rage almost spilling over.

"We’re not perfect," Jihyo said, her voice calm but edged with steel. "But we don’t need to be. What we have is enough."

Ruhan’s eyes glinted with mock interest as he looked at her, his smirk returning. "Enough, you say? Hmm." He tilted his head as if considering her words. "What I see, sister, is wasted potential. You and Voljune are almost perfectly in sync—an extraordinary bond, truly. I can’t help but wonder... why lower yourself to Diabolos’s level?"

Jihyo flinched, feeling the sting of his words, but she stood firm. "You wouldn’t understand. It’s not about power, or strength, or even perfection. Dio and I... we complement each other. We make each other better, and stronger. You think he’s broken, but I see someone who’s survived the impossible. Someone who’s still kind, still loving, despite everything."

Ruhan let out a low laugh, his voice a dark hum of amusement. "Oh, sister, your sentimentality is charming, I’ll give you that. But you’re wrong if you think Diabolos is anything more than a tool. He’s a means to an end. He always has been."

Jihyo’s heart ached at Ruhan's dismissive tone. She could feel Dio’s presence, small but resilient, fighting beneath the surface. Voljune, too, bristled with anger, her twin’s energy surging through her like an electric current.

"Voljune," Ruhan said, his tone now more focused on his twin. "You’re stronger now. I can feel it. But you still tether yourself to this... human." He spat the last word with disdain. "Why?"

Voljune surged forward, pushing against the edges of Jihyo's consciousness as if she were about to burst free. "Because Dio is ours," Voljune growled through Jihyo's voice, their bond radiating through every word. "He’s not a vessel for you to control. He’s more than you could ever be, Ruhan. He’s better than you."

Ruhan's eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sinister. "Better than me? Oh, sister... you really are delusional. But I’ll let you cling to your fantasies, for now. I have no intention of severing Dio—at least, not yet. There are... greater things at play."

Jihyo’s breath hitched, her mind swirling as she tried to keep her focus. But Voljune’s words rang true inside her—Dio was theirs, and she wouldn’t let Ruhan take him away.

"You think you can control everything, Ruhan," Jihyo said, her voice soft but filled with determination. "But you can’t. Dio’s not going to be your puppet. He’s stronger than you think."

Ruhan looked at her with a sneer, but his amusement lingered. "We shall see, sister. We shall see."

And with that, Jihyo felt Dio's presence flicker, as if fighting its way back to the surface. The shift in control was subtle, but she could sense it. Dio was still there, and he wasn't giving up.

As if sensing Jihyo’s unwavering resolve, Ruhan’s voice faded, leaving her with a parting thought. "Just remember, Jihyo. As synchronized as you and Voljune may be, Dio will always be one step behind. He’s never going to be what you need him to be."

Jihyo shook her head, feeling the warmth of Dio’s presence growing stronger beneath Ruhan’s shadow. "You don’t know him like I do."

A moment of silence followed, and then, as if in response, Dio’s familiar warmth returned—faint but present. The soft, gentle presence that Jihyo had come to love.

Suddenly, she felt Dio’s arms wrap around her from behind, his embrace firm and comforting. "Don’t listen to him," Dio whispered softly into her ear. "We’ve got this."

Jihyo relaxed into his touch, Voljune settling inside her. Ruhan’s words still echoed in her mind, but with Dio’s warmth enveloping her, she knew they could face whatever was coming—together.

Ruhan stretched, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to the sensation of being in control of Dio’s body once again. It was almost amusing—how he could manipulate the physical form of his “vessel,” a body that had once been so imposing and powerful. But now, something simpler tugged at him, a small indulgence Dio had held onto. The refrigerator hummed softly in the quiet of the apartment as Ruhan pulled open the door, revealing Dio’s stash of treats.

Voljune stirred inside Jihyo, her presence shifting slightly as they both observed from the edges of Rohan’s awareness. They could feel it—the change in energy, the way Dio’s body seemed to react to Ruhan in ways only they could see.

“He’s indulging,” Voljune noted with a hint of surprise in her voice. “Not in power or conquest—but in something so... mundane.”

Jihyo watched with narrowed eyes as Ruhan plucked a milkshake from the fridge and studied it with mild curiosity. She had seen Dio savor these moments before—these small, personal joys that grounded him in ways Ruhan would never understand. As Ruhan took a slow, almost hesitant sip, Jihyo felt a ripple of Dio’s presence beneath the surface, faint but still there.

Voljune hummed thoughtfully. “He is more in touch with Diabolos than he realizes,” she observed. “Even now, he feels the connection to the vessel. He may not admit it, but Dio’s essence... still lingers.”

Jihyo’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Dio would appreciate the irony,” she murmured. “Ruhan, this cold and calculating being, indulging in something as simple as a milkshake.”

Ruhan, oblivious to their presence, sighed as he took another sip, his body visibly relaxing. There was something almost humorous about watching this ancient, powerful entity indulging in mortal pleasures. Voljune and Jihyo could feel the faint echoes of satisfaction that trickled through Dio’s consciousness—a simple joy in the taste, the texture, the momentary comfort.

“What does he get out of this?” Jihyo wondered aloud, her eyes focused on Rohan’s every movement.

Voljune’s voice grew softer, more contemplative. “Perhaps he misses it,” she mused. “The experience of life. Even the small things. After all, what use is power if you can’t enjoy the sensations of the world?”

Ruhan’s focus shifted to a bag of burgers sitting on the counter. He unwrapped one with an almost theatrical gesture, biting into it with a low groan of satisfaction. Jihyo watched, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement, as Ruhan seemed to savor the taste more than she expected.

“He’s starting to appreciate it,” Voljune observed. “Even if he won’t admit it.”

Jihyo’s mind wandered to Dio—how he would smile so brightly whenever they would grab a quick burger or share a sweet treat. The contrast between Ruhan’s mechanical indulgence and Dio’s simple joy couldn’t be starker, but for a fleeting moment, Jihyo saw something else in Ruhan—a faint echo of what had been taken from him.

“He doesn’t understand it,” Jihyo whispered. “But he’s feeling it.”

Voljune’s voice deepened. “Ruhan is experiencing a part of Dio’s essence that he would never admit to craving. The sensations. The pleasures. The simplicity of being human.”

Ruhan finished the burger with a contented sigh, tossing the wrapper into the trash. He leaned back against the counter, letting the moment settle over him like a blanket of warmth. His eyes glinted as he gazed out at the balcony, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For all his power,” Voljune mused, “Ruhan envies this—the mortal pleasures, the joy of living in the present. He envies Diabolos.”

Jihyo blinked, surprised at the thought. “Envy?”

Voljune’s presence swirled inside her. “Yes. For all Ruhan’s power and domination, he lacks the ability to truly enjoy the world. Diabolos can. That’s why he clings to these indulgences.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, watching as Ruhan ran a hand through Dio’s hair. The casual gesture, the ease with which he moved—there was something almost human about it. But the unsettling truth remained: it wasn’t Dio. Not fully.

“You mortals and your food,” Ruhan muttered to himself. “This is the only thing I might actually miss.”

Jihyo’s jaw tightened. Even now, Ruhan couldn’t fully admit it—couldn’t admit that he was starting to understand, even in the smallest ways, why Dio found joy in these moments. But there was something undeniable about the way Dio’s body reacted to it—the way it softened, relaxed, and surrendered to the sensations.

Ruhan turned toward the balcony, his gaze shifting to the sky. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts,” he said, speaking to Dio as though the man was still present. “Once this is done, you can have your body back. But until then... you’re mine.”

Voljune’s presence stirred within Jihyo, her thoughts intertwined with her host’s. “What does he think he’s gaining from all this?” Voljune asked quietly.

Jihyo tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied Rohan’s every move. “He’s trying to understand it,” she murmured. “Even if he doesn’t realize it, he’s trying to connect with what makes Dio who he is.”

Voljune’s voice softened with a quiet understanding. “And he never will,” she whispered. “Because he can’t see what we see.”

Jihyo’s heart ached with the truth of those words. Ruhan might indulge in Dio’s pleasures, but he would never grasp the depth of Dio’s heart—the way he cared for those around him, the way he found joy in the smallest things. That was something Ruhan could never take.

As Ruhan stood there, gazing out at the city lights, Jihyo and Voljune exchanged a glance. They knew Dio was still there, locked away but present, waiting for the moment to reclaim what was his.

Voljune’s voice was barely a whisper now. “He doesn’t understand the strength that comes from living through the heart.”

Jihyo nodded. “No. And he never will.”

And with that, they watched, knowing that, no matter how long Ruhan stayed in control, Dio’s essence would remain—quiet but unbroken, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Dio’s mind flickered back to a time when his life had been a haze, trapped between pain and recovery, long before he’d set foot back on Earth. He remembered the distant planet—far on the edge of the universe, a place unlike anything he had encountered before or since.

It had been barren at first glance, a rocky wasteland stretching out toward the horizon with nothing but dust and jagged mountains. But beneath the surface, in hidden sanctuaries carved into the mountains themselves, lived a race of beings unlike any other. These creatures stood eight feet tall, their skin a muted gray, a perfect blend of earth and stone. Their bodies radiated strength, and their eyes glowed faintly with the energy of untapped power. Yet, there was no violence in them, no hunger for conquest or destruction, which caught Dio off guard.

The moment he crashed on their planet, broken and fragmented after being severed, he expected to be greeted by warriors—beings who might challenge his will or force him to fight for his survival. But instead, these giants, their voices deep and resonant, moved with an unexpected gentleness. Their hands, rough from battle and labor, tended to his wounds. They carried him to one of their great sanctuaries, a structure hewn from the mountains, where the hum of ancient power vibrated through the air. The energy was palpable, yet somehow, it was contained, controlled, and peaceful.

They called themselves the Ky’Rans, and despite their imposing stature and strength, they lived lives of quiet isolation, far from the reaches of ruin and conquest. The more time Diabolos spent with them, the more they revealed their history—stories of a people who had once been conquerors, feared across the galaxy for their might. But after centuries of war, something changed in them. They turned their backs on the destruction they had wrought, and instead of ruling through power, they chose peace.

Their culture revolved around balance and restraint. They no longer saw strength purely in the ability to conquer but in the preservation of what was precious. They believed that peace, true peace, required more strength than any battle. Their teachings baffled Diabolos at first, their ways alien to everything he had known.

During his stay, they showed him how they preserved their world—both physically and spiritually. They honed their bodies through labor, not combat, maintaining harmony with their environment rather than seeking to dominate it. Dio, as broken as he had been, found it hard to argue with the results. Their world thrived with lush, untouched forests hidden between the harsh rockscapes. Their people lived long, content lives, untouched by the brutal cycle of revenge and violence.

"You are strong," one of the elders had told him one day as they walked along the cliffs overlooking the vast landscape. "But strength is not just in what you can break. It is in what you choose to protect."

Diabolos had stared out at the expanse, pondering those words. It was an idea foreign to him—he had always believed strength was defined by overcoming challenges, by fighting back, by taking power into his hands. But here, the Ky’Rans thrived without that hunger, without needing to exert their dominance.

"Revenge," the elder had continued, "is like a treadmill—you run and run, but never get anywhere. The faster you chase it, the more you realize how empty it is."

Diabolos knew, deep down, that there was truth in those words. The Ky’Rans had helped him heal, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. In their quiet sanctuaries, he had found peace for the first time in his life. It wasn’t the same kind of peace he had been taught to seek—the peace after victory, after battle, after silencing one’s enemies—but a peace that came from within.

And yet, as much as he respected their ways, Diabolos couldn't fully embrace their ideology. He understood their philosophy, but peace, to him, wasn’t the ultimate goal. He knew he couldn’t walk their path, as noble as it was. He still felt the pull of something more—a need to confront his past, to face the battles waiting for him on Earth.

His time with them had given him clarity and strength, but it also showed him that his journey wasn’t done. There were still forces at play—forces that would come for him and those he cared about, no matter how much peace he sought. The Ky’Rans might have conquered their inner demons, but Diabolos had a different fate awaiting him.

And so, one day, he left.

As he stepped aboard a ship they had helped him repair, he looked back at the towering figures that had nurtured him back to health. Their expressions were solemn but understanding. They knew he wouldn’t stay.

"Strength," the elder had said in parting, "is in knowing when to fight and when to walk away."

Diabolos nodded, but he had no words to offer. He couldn’t explain it—not then, at least—but he knew his battles were far from over.

Returning to Earth felt like waking from a long dream. He had been restored and renewed by his time with the Ky’Rans, but he didn’t feel at peace. That wasn’t his path. Peace, for him, was something that had to be earned—not by walking away, but by facing the storms that came his way.

Back in the present, Diabolos blinked as his memories faded, his mind drifting back to his body. he got up showered and got ready for his upcoming battle. As he did Jihyo and Voljune watched him intently.

“Do you think he ever regrets leaving them?” Voljune's voice echoed softly inside Jihyo as they watched Dio from a distance.

Jihyo's brow furrowed as she studied him, seeing the weight of his memories flickering in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “He couldn’t stay. His path was always going to be different from theirs. But... I think they gave him something important. Maybe more than he realizes.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “He carries their lessons, even if he disagrees with them. That kind of peace... it’s rare. And I think, in his own way, he’s always searching for it—even now.”

Jihyo sighed softly, her heart swelling with affection for the man she loved. He was strong, but not in the way most would think. His strength lay in his resilience, his ability to survive not just the battles outside, but the battles within.

And, maybe one day, he would find the peace he sought—on his own terms.

As Ruhan took hold of Diabolos's body again, his demeanor shifted. The once gentle and calculating presence of Dio faded, replaced by the arrogant and aggressive stance of Ruhan. His movements were sharp, confident, almost theatrical as he relished the control.

"Ah, good," Ruhan exclaimed, rolling his shoulders, feeling the stretch of muscles he hadn't used in ages. "Now we fight."

He made to leave, but before he could step through the door, Jihyo grabbed him by the arm, her grip firm yet full of concern.

“Can I have Dio back for a moment?” she asked, her voice steady.

Ruhan paused, clearly confused, and tried to suppress Dio further, pushing him down into the recesses of their shared mind. But something strange happened. Dio pushed back—more strongly than he had ever done before. Ruhan frowned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to have full control. Yet, despite his efforts, Dio’s consciousness rose to the surface.

Jihyo saw it too. The subtle shift in body language, the softening of his posture. A familiar warmth returned to Diabolos’s eyes.

“I love you, Yo-yo,” Dio said, his voice now his own. “And I love you, Voljune. I’ll be right back.” He gave her a reassuring smile, one that made her heart ache with worry, but she nodded and let go.

As Diabolos stepped away, his mind became a battlefield between him and Ruhan. Internally, they were locked in a struggle. Dio could feel Ruhan’s frustration brewing beneath the surface as the conqueror tried to maintain dominance, but it was Dio’s body—and he was done letting Ruhan run the show without questions.

Inside Dio’s Mind:

“Why are you doing this?” Dio’s voice echoed through their shared consciousness, reverberating in the space where Ruhan’s presence lingered like a shadow. “What’s the endgame, Ruhan? What do you actually want out of all this?”

Ruhan’s laughter filled the void. It was a low, sinister chuckle. “What do I want?” he repeated mockingly as if the question itself was absurd. “I want what I’ve always wanted. Power. Control. The kind of strength that transcends mortal limits. With Orochi back, and Narset neutralized, I can finally take what’s rightfully mine.”

Dio frowned, not satisfied with the answer. “Power for the sake of power? That’s it? You’ve been doing this for ages, Ruhan. Conquest after conquest. Planets have fallen at your feet. What’s the point? What’s the final goal here? More bodies? More worlds under your heel?”

Ruhan’s presence simmered in annoyance. “You wouldn’t understand, Dio. You’re soft. You’ve spent too much time worrying about ‘feelings’ and ‘relationships.’ Strength is all that matters. Control. The universe rewards the strong and devours the weak.”

“But to what end?” Dio pressed. “You’ve conquered worlds, and built empires, but you’re still here, inside me. If you were truly satisfied, you wouldn’t need to keep taking over my body, my life. What are you running from?”

Silence stretched between them, and for a moment, Dio thought he might have hit a nerve. Ruhan’s energy flickered, less stable than before. There was a pause, then Ruhan’s voice came through again, more subdued, but no less cold.

“I am not running from anything,” Ruhan spat, though there was a sharp edge of defensiveness in his tone. “I do what must be done. Those who are weak deserve their fates. Strength is survival.”

Dio let out a slow breath. “You’ve been saying the same thing for centuries, haven’t you? But deep down, you know it’s not enough. What happens when you’ve conquered everything? When there’s nothing left? Then what?”

Ruhan growled, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t get it, do you? There’s always something more to conquer, Dio. Power doesn’t have an end. It’s a cycle. You take, and then you take again. It’s the only way to survive in a universe that wants to crush you.”

Dio’s mind was calm, and contemplative, even as Rohan’s grew more volatile. “Survive... or thrive?” he asked softly. “There’s a difference, Ruhan. And you’re so focused on survival that you’ve forgotten how to live.”

The statement hung in the air like a challenge, one that Ruhan seemed unwilling to face directly. He deflected, shifting his tone. “And what about you, Dio? You pretend to be above it all, acting like you’re somehow better than me. But let’s not forget—you and I are more alike than you think. You’ve got that same hunger inside you. I can feel it.”

Dio’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid to face it. To admit that I want more. But unlike you, I don’t need to destroy everything around me to find it.”

Ruhan scoffed, but his grip on Diabolos’s body loosened slightly. “You’re a fool, Dio. You think peace will save you. That love and bond will make you strong. But when the time comes, and Orochi’s claws are at your throat, you’ll see just how weak those things really are.”

Dio didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But I’ll take that risk.”

In the Real World:

Jihyo and Voljune stood nearby, their shared consciousness attuned to the changes they sensed inside Dio. They exchanged a glance, knowing full well the battle raging inside him but trusting that he would come through.

“Ruhan doesn’t understand, does he?” Jihyo whispered to Voljune. “He only sees strength in conquest. He can’t comprehend what we see in Dio.”

Voljune’s voice resonated softly within her. “Ruhan is blinded by his own fear of weakness. He believes that vulnerability is a flaw. But Dio… he embraces it. That’s why he’s different. That’s why he’s stronger.”

Jihyo nodded, her heart swelling with pride. She watched Diabolos’s body, noting the subtle shifts in his posture. It was Dio again, she could feel it. But Ruhan lingered, a shadow in the background.

“He doesn’t see what we see in Dio,” Jihyo said quietly. “He can only see him as a vessel. A tool. But Dio is so much more than that.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “That’s why we’ll win. Not because of brute force, but because we fight with our hearts, not just our fists.”

Jihyo smiled softly, her gaze fixed on Diabolos as he took a steadying breath, the internal dialogue with Ruhan still raging in the depths of his mind. She knew Dio would come through—he always did.

And when he did, he would show Ruhan just how wrong he was about what true strength really meant.

As Diabolos and Ruhan soared through the stars, the ship they were on hummed with an uneasy energy. The silence between them was thick with tension, the kind that could break at any moment. Ruhan was in control, steering the vessel toward the planetary ruins Orochi had begun to consume. Yet, despite his command over Diabolos's body, he could feel Dio's presence just beneath the surface—a coiled serpent, ready to strike if Ruhan let his guard down for even a second.

In the dimly lit corners of the ship, Ruhan’s soldiers whispered amongst themselves. Most of them had followed Ruhan through countless conquests, planets scorched, and civilizations reduced to ash. They were battle-hardened warriors, yet now, many felt a fear they hadn’t experienced in years. Diabolos, Ruhan’s most volatile and dangerous host, was back. And though they had seen him in action before, something was different this time. The usual raw chaos and fury that accompanied Diabolos had been replaced by a malignant calm—a terrifying stillness that hinted at something far more dangerous than brute strength.

A group of Ruhan’s lieutenants huddled near the back of the ship, casting uneasy glances at Diabolos. One of them, a seasoned warrior with gray streaks in his hair and a scar running down his cheek, turned to his comrade with wide eyes.

"I forgot how formidable they were together," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship.

The other, a captain with sharp, calculating eyes, nodded grimly. “It’s unnerving. It’s like their energies match so perfectly, but they despise each other. It makes no sense.”

The lieutenant glanced over at Diabolos, who stood at the ship’s helm with an eerie stillness, his eyes glowing faintly with the shared power between him and Ruhan. “I know, right? Ruhan’s always been obsessed with Narset, thinking she’s the perfect host, but it's not true. Diabolos—he’s the one. And it’s not even close. If it wasn’t for them working together, Ruhan would never have been able to build this empire.”

The captain’s gaze darkened. “Diabolos is more than just a host. He’s unpredictable. Even Ruhan can’t fully control him, and that’s what makes him dangerous. Narset may have power, but Diabolos… he’s something else. Something Ruhan fears, even if he won’t admit it.”

They both watched as Diabolos—Ruhan—stood, commanding the ship with an unsettling sense of calm. His body was poised, every movement deliberate, but beneath it all, there was a brewing storm, an unspoken tension between the two beings sharing the same vessel. Ruhan’s arrogance may have made him believe he was in control, but anyone who knew Diabolos well understood that he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Another soldier, standing a few paces away, joined the whispered conversation. “It’s strange, isn’t it? They’re more powerful together, but it’s like a ticking time bomb. How long before Diabolos breaks free?”

The captain sighed, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know. But I do know that when it happens, we’d better be far away from the blast.”

The planetary ruins loomed ahead, a vast wasteland consumed by Orochi’s relentless hunger. As the ship descended, the soldiers braced themselves, knowing full well that what lay ahead would be a battle like none they had ever fought before. But the real war, the one between Ruhan and Diabolos, was already underway.

As the landscape of desolation spread out beneath them, Diabolos instantly recognized the remnants of a planet he had once annihilated: Hebo, the sapient planet, whose cries for survival had echoed in his mind long after the destruction. Memories surged within him—fragments of lives extinguished, hopes dashed, and a vibrant world turned to ash.

"Surprised?" Ruhan’s voice cut through Diabolos’s reverie, his amusement masking a deeper concern. He could feel Diabolos’s distress radiating through their shared psyche. But silence greeted him, heavy and foreboding, amplifying Ruhan’s unease. Diabolos loved to talk, to connect. His silence now signaled something serious—either a strategic maneuver or an emotional upheaval. It was likely both.

Dio knew he was standing on the precipice of his worst-case scenario. The weight of his past actions pressed down on him, a suffocating shroud. He needed to be smart, to act prudently. Drawing on the energy that coursed through him, he summoned the Imagin Saber, its hilt warm against his palm. The blade shimmered with the potential of their combined power, but at this moment, it felt like a reminder of his burden.

As they landed on the planet's surface aboard a skiff, Ruhan’s curiosity pierced the heavy atmosphere. “How did you survive being severed twice?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-serious.

“It’s simple. I wanted to live more than you wanted me to die,” Dio replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. The comment earned a genuine laugh from Ruhan.

“God, sometimes I forget how stubborn you are,” Ruhan chuckled, but the mirth was short-lived.

As they approached the titan Orochi, laughter echoed through the barren landscape, cutting through the tension. “I have been expecting you,” the titan boomed, his form shifting and warping into something that was sure to wound them both: Aerith.

Diabolos felt a surge of fury, his body tensing as he instinctively dropped into a defensive stance. Ruhan faltered a flicker of sentimentality and lost love shadowing his expression.

“I knew this form would garner a reaction. Now let’s end this. I have a universe to consume,” Orochi declared, a predatory glint in his eyes. But before he could finish his sentence, before Ruhan or Orochi could even react, Diabolos surged forward, the Imagin Saber slicing through the titan in one fluid motion.

“Color me surprised,” Ruhan shouted, only for his exhilaration to quickly shift to terror as he felt something pull at him—a violation of the worst kind. In that moment of raw fear, Diabolos ripped Ruhan from his body, casting him aside like a discarded husk.

As Ruhan hit the ground, he felt cold, abandoned, and utterly helpless. Watching Diabolos, he saw a new light in his eyes—something he had never witnessed before. It was power, clarity, and a sense of purpose that made Ruhan crave retribution. He was filled with a need to reconnect, to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

“Wait!” Ruhan pleaded, moving toward Dio. “We are meant to be one. You are me, I am you.”

But Dio held him at sword point, the tip of the Imagin Saber glinting in the fractured light of the dying world. “Our deal is done,” he declared, his voice icy.

“B-but?” Ruhan protested, pain lacing his words.

Diabolos faced Ruhan and said, "I should kill you, but Riku wouldn't want that. So I will spare you this once with a warning: Leave me be and you'll live otherwise I will destroy everything you hold dear."

"Who cares about any of that garbage? it's all fleeting to what we had. that power. We were a God." Ruhan screamed in agony

Diabolos, unyielding, began to walk away, and as he did, Ruhan felt something shift within him—a hollowing, a deep sadness that threatened to consume him whole. At that moment, clarity struck him: he had mistaken power for unity. They had been at the top of the food chain together, but that bond had crumbled the instant Dio severed their connection.

“No, please don’t leave me,” Ruhan cried, desperation flooding his voice. “We are one! You’re everything I need! You can’t leave me behind!”

Dio turned his back on Ruhan, striding toward the skiff that awaited him. He signaled for Ruhan's empire to pick him up, his expression unreadable. It didn’t matter what the would-be conqueror’s change of heart was; Dio had made his choice.

As the skiff approached, the chasm between them widened. Ruhan’s pleas faded into the wind, a haunting echo that danced between the ruins of Hebo. The titan Orochi, once a looming threat, now stood in silence, witnessing the fracture of two beings who had once been bound by necessity and ambition.

In that void, Ruhan felt a profound loneliness settle deep within him, a weight heavier than any defeat he had ever faced. As he lay on the cold ground, the remnants of a planet he had once cherished, he realized that power alone could not fill the emptiness left by Diabolos’s absence. It was a lesson too late to learn—a truth swallowed by the shadows of ambition.

as his empire picked him up and brought him to Narset. Narset's eyes widened seeing the parasite alone.

"Where is diabolos?" she demanded?"

Ruhan groaned as his people put him back in Narset. What once felt like a fitting glove felt foreign and alien.

as his psyche overpowered and flooded Narset he lamented, "I finally had it all!" she yelled distressed. the power of infinity freedom from fear, and it's gone. now I am stuck, in this form. Ah, how could I have been so blind? Of course, he was hiding more power, but what kind? I have never felt anything like it. It was somehow whimsical but deeply ancient and terrifying. it was so uniquely him. I had it we had it, and it's slipped through my fingers again." Narset cried as she fell to the floor dismissing her people.

"What do I do knowing that such power exists? I can't live like this I need it Narset said as she clawed into her skin desperately searching her or Ruhan's memories for what could have given Dio that power.

Dio arrived back home later that night, stepping through the door with a quiet confidence that immediately caught both Jihyo and Voljune’s attention. He looked different—not just in appearance but in presence, like a man who had undergone a fundamental change.

The moment Jihyo spotted him, her eyes lit up, and she let out a joyful squeal, rushing to greet him. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and excitement.

But as they drew closer, Voljune was the first to notice something unusual. Her keen eyes took in every detail—the faint glow in Dio’s eyes, the way his skin seemed more vibrant, healthier. Most notably, the twin’s presence was gone. She could no longer feel the subtle hum of Ruhan or the remnants of that alien parasite. His scars, the deep marks that had once been etched into his body like battle wounds, had mostly healed over, replaced by smooth skin. Even more striking was the intensity in the air around him, an aura that shimmered with power, like a star caught between implosion and explosion.

It wasn’t just power though—there was peace, a dangerous calm that made Jihyo blink in awe. She hadn’t felt this kind of energy from him before, something about it was… magnetic. Yet, despite the gravity of the aura, it didn’t push them away. In fact, both Jihyo and Voljune felt drawn toward him, as if he were the center of some invisible force field.

“This is… different,” Voljune murmured, a small frown creasing her brow as she stirred within Jihyo. “Something’s shifted. Ruhan’s gone… he’s gone. Completely.”

Jihyo nodded, her eyes sweeping over Dio, but instead of questioning it further, a soft smile broke across her face. “You look… incredible,” she whispered, her voice low with admiration. There was pride there, as if seeing him like this filled her with a sense of awe.

But before she could say anything else, Diabolos crossed the remaining distance between them in a heartbeat, his movements sudden yet graceful, almost like a predator approaching its prey. Jihyo gasped as he grabbed her, pulling her close. There was an undeniable heat between them now, something fierce and primal, radiating from him like the burning core of a star.

Without hesitation, Dio brought his lips to hers, and Jihyo melted into the kiss. There was nothing gentle about it—he kissed her with an intensity she had never felt before, the hunger and passion raw and unrestrained. His hands gripped her tightly, but not in a possessive way—more like a declaration, as if reminding her that he was there, fully present, fully alive. Jihyo responded with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer as their kiss deepened. It was as if the world around them ceased to exist at that moment, and all that remained was the energy crackling between them.

Voljune felt surprised, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her and Jihyo’s mouths. She hadn’t seen Dio this… free in a long time. The restraint he usually carried with him, the careful consideration of every move, was gone. He was living in this moment with nothing held back.

“Wow, okay,” Voljune muttered under her breath, catching her breath after the kiss. She stared into his eyes and felt his lust rise to the surface. The two beings understood in a moment and surrendered themselves to Dio. His crotch ground into hers during another kiss until they broke it and Diabolos said, “I need you both,” Jihyo and Voljune could feel the desperation in his touch. He needed her reassurance that she was there with him, and Jihyo/Voljune was ready to give it. She smiled as she took him in for another kiss she ground on his crotch where she could feel his bulge surging and ready to meet her folds. Jihyo yelped as he poked her

“Oh someone is very eager.” come on babe let's go to the bedroom. Dio followed her his eyes clouded by lust as she led him. She noticed a change in his touch the hesitancy was gone replaced by an implacable assertiveness and reverence for her that made Jihyo feel heat swell all over her. Dio brought her in for another kiss as they tumbled onto the bed. As they lay entangled in each other’s presence Jihyo smiled.

“With you by my side, I feel like I can take on the world and win,” Jihyo said as she started to take off her top emboldened by his presence.

“You can I know it,” Diabolos affirmed and Jihyo brought him to her chest. She moaned as his tongue swirled around her breast. They locked eyes as Dio switched to the other and Jihyo moaned. She pushed him deeper into her magnificent mounds hoping to smother him in her warm embrace as she continued to grind on his body. Jihyo moans content as Dio explores every part of her breasts and continues to lick massage and grope her mighty mammaries. When finally stops Jihyo pulls him up to her and says, “Let me fucking ride you.” Dio nodded as he opened his pants to her. Jihyo gets up to take her bottoms off. She straddles him and stares into his eyes. Where she sees a list of course but a renewed vigor for life. Jihyo smiled as she sank into his cock only for Dio to stand right up and begin thrusting into her. She moaned as she never knew he could so easily manhandle her like this. She groaned as his cock kisses her cervix with the tip before greedily taking him in for another kiss. She clung to him like a koala as he ravaged her insides with the vigor of an animal before he laid her gently on the bed and continued plowing her. He watched her delicious breast bounce as he fucked her until Jihyo screamed reaching her orgasm. Terrified he pulled out but Jihyo in the throes of violent pleasure grabbed him and said in unison with Voljune, “Put that cock back in me and cum in me or I will rip it off.” now even more terrified. (and aroused) by his girlfriend, he slammed back into her. Jihyo’s screams echoed through their apartment,

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she groaned as Dio ravaged her and her eyes rolled back. Unable to hold back any longer Dio picked up speed and burst inside of her. Jihyo moaned as she felt him cum inside of her sending her into another orgasm. It was then that Dio realized that Jihyo had an impregnation kink. As every single time they fuck she wanted a creampie. Dio smiled and teased her saying, “You wanna be a mom so bad,” Jihyo’s eyes narrowed as she pinned Dio to the bed, and she began riding him. Her pace was ruthless as she took him in and out. Her eyes never left his as she rode him right past the refractory period into another arousal period. Her eyes filled with need as she demanded he fill her again.

“Please Dio give me a baby please,” Jihyo said as she rode. Diabolos for all his strength and power was helpless to stop her as she rode him again and again stringing out orgasm after orgasm until he passed out.

When the warmth in her core left Jihyo looked down to see Dio was unconscious. She chuckled as she got off of him. His cum having filled her womb with seed. She smiled as she lay next to the poor man sensually stroking his cock as he awoke jolting awake. Jihyo locked eyes with him as she never let go and kept nursing his rod back to life gingerly.

When they finally broke apart, Jihyo was breathless, her heart racing as she gazed up at him. “What… what happened to you?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as if to confirm that he was real.

“I moved on,” Dio said a bit perplexed and unsure of how he came to that answer but understanding it was the correct one. Jihyo and Voljune smiled as they lay next to Diabolos happy to see him so vibrant. He was different from the Dio he was before he was severed but the one that stood before them had a new glow to him that was undeniable.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #twice smut #twice jihyo #jihyo smut #park jihyo

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 3 days

Note

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

#emmy answers #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #skz bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjins orange slice too

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days

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Could I request the Batboys with an s/o who has unexpected/unsuspecting strength? Like the batboys try to hug their partner from behind but the s/o has been a little jumpy lately so they panic and accidentally end up throwing them? But instead of being angry at their s/o, the batboys are relieved bc they know that their love can protect themself?

Dick

Managed to put his skills to good use as he landed soundly on his hands in a perfect handstand with perfect form, before stopping his charade and went back to standing on his own two feet.

‘Oh my goodness dick are you okay?’ You asked, scared that you might’ve accidentally hurt him with that throw.

Dick smiled as he did some basic stretches to show you that he was fine and not in any pain. ‘I’m fit as a fiddle my love, nice throw you could’ve knocked someone out with a throw like that.’ He says casually as you could only rub your temples to ease the oncoming headache.

‘That’s not exactly reassuring..’ you trial off.

‘In a city like Gotham, it’s the reassurance you need to keep safe.’ Dick replied seriously now as he moved towards you and brought you into his arms, ‘it lets me know that you’ll be fine without me with reflexes that fast.’ He adds as he presses kisses into the top of your head, face and shoulders.

‘I’ve lived here long enough to know how to protect myself Dick, you don’t need to worry.’ You reassure him but the worry upon his face didn’t go away as he buried it deep into the side of your neck.

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep sweetheart, those streets only get more and more dangerous by the day and I’d be damned if I let you go out there without knowing you’ll be completely safe.’ Dick replies as he peppered your neck in kisses, tightening his hold on you as he does to ingrate you into his very being. ‘So please don’t do anything that’ll hurt you in the end, please.’

You smiled softly as you’d rubbed his back soothingly, kissing his shoulders and parts of his neck that you could reach in hopes of calming his heart and soul. ‘I won’t, you tend to do that sort of thing for a living.’ You joked and dick pinched your side, causing you to yelp.

‘I mean it.’ Dick pulled away from your neck to cup your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘I don’t want to loose you to something so easily preventable.’

‘And you won’t.’ You tell him as you rested your hands atop of his own, rubbing your nose against his. ‘I’ll be extra carful and will throw anyone that looks at me with bad intent.’ You promised him, stealing a kiss from his lips as an extra measure.

‘Good, but I think I should at least help you with some basic defence just to be certain!’ Dick said and you couldn’t help but listen to him intently, it was the least you could do to help him feel confident in your abilities to keeping yourself safe.

Damian

Lands on his feet like an agile cat.

‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Damian I don’t know what came over me-‘

Damian holds up his hand. ‘No need to apologise, consider this a test for when I can’t be near to keep you safe my treasure.’

You furrow your brows. ‘A test? So you weren’t just trying to hug me from behind just now?’

Damian flushed. ‘Nonsense. A hug is beneath me.’ He splutters.

You smiled as you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘Are you sure?’ You asked as you watched Damian attempt to glare at you, but it only ends up looking like a really cute pout.

‘Certain.’ He says but he knows you don’t believe it.

‘Then I guess you don’t want forehead kisses or hand holding anymore either since it’s all beneath you.’ You taunt as you begin to walk away from him.

‘Do not show me your back my treasure or I’ll-‘

‘End up being thrown across the room again?’ You inquired as you looked over your shoulder at him, smiling. ‘I can hold my own against you my dear Dami so I would act with caution.’ You added teasingly as Damian couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you were going to be okay but just to be safe he was more then willing to teach you basic defence as a precaution, after all he can’t have you getting too cocky on him now.

‘I would very much like to test that theory my darling in a sparing match.’ Damian proposed and you stiffened, even if he was going to go easy on you that don’t mean you won’t walk out with bruising and a lesson in not getting cocky with a trained assassin since basically birth.

Jason

Deeply relived at the fact that you could toss someone of his size across the room like it’s nothing.

He didn’t even care that his back might be a little bruised, he’s been dealt worse but he’s smiling widely at you as you stare at him as though he’s got two heads.

‘You’ve got quite the throw on your sweetheart.’

‘You’re smiling, I could’ve seriously hurt you Jason Todd and you’re smiling!’ You scolded as you made your way over to him to check up on him, only for him to wave you off.

‘It’s fine, it’ll heal in due time but seriously are you sure you’re not a meta human or?’ Jason trails off as he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, content and happy knowing that you could keep yourself safe from harm but that isn’t going to stop him from checking up on you now and then as red hood.

It was one thing to be strong, it’s another to be smart and cautious of your opponent.

‘Just someone with stupidly abnormal strength.’ You tell him as you held him by the biceps. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

Jason chuckled as he kissed your forehead, from your nose and quickly on the mouth. ‘Of course I am! I’m just glad that you can keep yourself safe when I can’t be nearby to do so myself, I’m really, really happy as I wouldn’t even let you out on those streets with how dangerous it’s become lately.’

‘And I want to keep you here with me to keep you off of the streets, from getting hurt because of the same thing.’ You retorted as you kissed his cheeks and nose softly. ‘I don’t care if you’re trained for this or not, I will still worry for your well being Jason.’ You add as Jason pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as his warmth encompasses you in a protective manner.

‘Now you know how I feel chipmunk.’ Jason murmured, ‘even though you’ve got strength on your side and can knock a fucker out of they overstep a boundary,’ you couldn’t help but chuckle at that as Jason smiled at the sound of you chuckling, it warmed his heart like no other could, ‘I’m still going to train you up on other aspects just to be certain and besides there’s nothing wrong with have a few good tricks up your sleeve.’ He adds.

You nuzzled yourself further into his chest, closing your eyes as you focused on his breathing’s his warmth and his heartbeat, any and all signs that he was very much alive and well. ‘If it makes you happy.’

‘It will.’ Jason replied.

‘Then I’ll make sure not to ogle you when you’re deep in concentration, it’s an attractive look on you.’ You said lightheartedly as Jason chuckled, holding you tighter to his chest as he replied, ‘then I’ll make sure to be extra deep in concentration, just for you.’ You lightly swat his biceps as he bursts out laughing.

You’ll be a okay…that and Jason thinks he’s got a bruise forming on his bicep from the playful hit.

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darnell-la · 2 days

Note

just imagine logan as a lone wolf who lives in a cabin in the middle of the forest and maybe the reader is just an ordinary girl (maybe shes a farmer or a gardener) that lives behind the forest and she needs to cross the path along the forest every day to go home, it goes down to rain and she gets lost, and finds logans cabin.

Then she looks at logan for the first time and its just love at first sight.

Well maybe lust, but also love.

note: Logan lives far from civilization in this story, so you can imagine when a young lady, the only person he sees daily, accidentally steps too far into his property wet and dirty. He can’t help but invite her in and pray for the best.

———

Y/n had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, eyes constantly getting rain in them as her shoes soaked. She could barely feel her feet, and her clothes were drenched.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, coming across Mister Howlett’s house, a man she’d never seen but had heard of. One part of her was happy seeing the house, knowing she had gone the right way, but the other half still hurt her head. She has ten or so minutes of running and no walking.

Y/n walked in front of the house, about to pass until an alarm went off, almost scaring her out of her shoes.

Lights flashed on the young lady as she heard rustling coming from inside the house. “Goddamnit,” she cussed under her breath, realizing she had stepped too far into the man’s property. She never does, but it’s raining hard tonight, and she can barely see.

“Who the fuck is on my property!?” A man asked, voice sounding a bit different than an average male. “I-I’m sorry, I-I always walk this way, I just walked a bit too far into the grass. I-It’s raining heavy out here,” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the rain.

Logan walked past the frame of his front door, revealing the shotgun he had in hand. At first, she was terrified, but her mind instantly forgot about the weapon in his hands as her eyes scanned the rest of his body.

“I see,” the man said, scanning the young lady. He wore thick blue jeans, with a beat-up heavy belt, and his tank top was white and dirty. Y/n on the other hand had an amazing outfit. A fluffy skirt with an uptight crop top.

Of course, all of it was drenched, but the man had seen how good she looked earlier today, like every day. He never gets a good look at her, but the consistency of her going to work or whatever she did every day, seemed to rub Logan the right way.

“C’mon in — Let the weather cool down a bit,” Logan suggested, tone still unfriendly, but she understood she could’ve woken him up. “Oh, uh- Thank you,” she said as she approached his doorstep.

Once the two met eyes, it was almost like everything from then was in slow motion. The way they blinked, how slow they stepped, when he talked, telling her to take her shoes off for him to dry, and when he locked his front door.

“So — What do you do exactly?” Y/n asked as she shifted on his couch to look at him who was at the end of the same couch she was sitting on. He never sits on the long couch, but tonight, he felt like it.

“Chop wood, give to the community, fix up the land, and cook,” he said before taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured and offered her, but she told him she wasn’t a drinker.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” she said, making him chuckle. “Maybe for you, princess,” the man said with a look over his reading glasses before he looked back down at the newspaper he was reading.

“I work hard — Just in other ways,” she smiled. “And what is it you do, Bub?” The man asked, now placing the newspaper down to listen. He was interested. He didn’t know why, but he was.

“I write online books and sell clothes. These! I made myself. Hope I can dry them without it messing up,” she said as she tugged on her clothes. “You made that?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Mhm hm — Took a while, but I got through,” she smiled. “Maybe I can dry it. I mean, I don’t think the rain’s gonna slow down anytime soon, so you can just stay here until they air dry in my basement,” he offered.

“You can take my bed. It’s clean, and my room has a lock if it makes you uncomfortable that a man’s in the house,”

Y/n stayed silent, thinking to herself. It didn’t seem like too much of a bad idea. She didn’t know the man, but he was a neighbor. She passes his house all the time, and she’s sure he’s seen her before.

“I’ll stay,” she said, making Logan huff out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in. “Let’s head upstairs. It’s late, and I was going to close up down here anyway,”

Logan had shown y/n to his room, telling her she could make herself at home as he pulled out a shirt she could wear to bed.

“When you wake up, I’ll have your clothes in front of the door, alright?” He asked. “Okay, uh- I know I’m asking for a lot now, but is it possible to take a shower?” She asked.

Logan looked at her body, almost forgetting she wasn’t clean. Her legs had mud in them, her skin was wet, and her hair had branches in leaves in them. He had ignored all of that before. He hadn’t cared what she looked like. She looked pretty no matter what.

“Of course,” the man said before he went into his closet to grab a towel. “You can use my bedroom bathroom. It’s clean too,” he said, making sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this all. I’ll repay you someday,” she looked up at him as he gave her a towel. “You don’t have to. I would never leave a pretty girl in the dark,” y/n giggled at his response, happy she knew he thought she was pretty.

“Hey, Bub, I almost forgot to give you some soap. Those in there are a bit strong smellin, so I’ve got some normal scents for ya,”

Logan knocked on the door bathroom door a few minutes after the had started the shower. “Oh my, thank you!” Y/n said as she hopped out of the tub and slightly opened the door, covering anything that could be seen.

“Of course, princ-“ the man had cut himself off as he looked behind her, seeing her figure in the mirror. “What's wrong?” Y/n asked as she followed his eyes, looking behind him before she let out a scream.

“Oh my god!” The main tried covering herself up as the door slowly opened. Logan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, covering as much as she could as she looked up at him. “It ain’t like Ian seen a naked woman before, Bub,” Logan said. Y/n let out a sigh, knowing a man who looked like him had definitely seen enough naked women to not feel disgusted or anything by her.

“Okay, okay,” she caught her breath, still covering herself up as Logan stood in the door frame, scanning her body. Her wet skin which wasn’t completely clean yet, made him feel a type of way. She made him feel a type of way, but he wanted to be respectful.

“I’ll leave you to it, princess,” Logan said before he went to turn around, but y/n stopped him. “Wait!” She said. “I-I need the soap,” she spoke low, making him realize he never exchanged it with her.

“Oh, shit- Yeah, yeah,” Logan said as he handed the bottle to the young lady. Y/n grabbed it, pulling at it so she could take a shower and ignore how embarrassed he was, but he kept a grip on the bottle.

He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to see what she would do.

“Is something wrong, Mister Howlett?” She asked. He loved the way his name rolled off of her lips. He never thought he’d love his last name more. What was this random girl doing to him?

“Yeah, it’s just- I don’t know,” he said, making her smile slightly. “I-If you wanna join me, you can. You know, to save water?” She suggested, surprising the man. She even surprised herself.

“You sure, Bub?” The man wanted to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming all night. “Yes-“ Before she could finish, the man threw the soap bottle to the side, grabbed the woman by her face, and pulled her into a rough passionate kiss, making sure his tongue slipped right in.

Y/n instantly maimed in his mouth at the aggression. He gave back a groan as he picked her up and placed her on the wooden sink counter.

Logan ripped his white tank top off before pulling his jeans down, revealing the hard-on he had since he saw her outside in the rain.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, Bub. Don’t know why,” he said, making her giggle. “Maybe because I’m pretty?” She suggested, making him laugh. “That’s definitely one reason, Bub,”

Logan spat on his fingers before wiping the across her cunt which was already leaking. “Fuck,” y/n cussed under her breath as her body hitched.

“Mhm, potty mouth,” she said with a smile before he licked his fingers, tasting the mess he had just wiped across. “Fuck, you taste good,”

Logan put his cock in hand before lining up. When he pushed at her entrance, she instantly tightened around him. “Fuck,” Logan groaned, hands gripping the sides of her ass to pull her into him.

“Oh my god,” y/n cried out as his length buried inside of her completely. “Fuck, yes,” the man huffed out as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Ian gonna last,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, but she loved it.

“Good — Makes me know you like me back,” she said. The man chuckled against her skin, moving his face until his slips were on her neck. “You gonna take it all?” He asked, kissing along her neck with a few nibbles.

“Yes, Mister Howlett,” she said. “C’mon, Bub — Ian that old,” he chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly thrusting into the woman to take in his good or felt, the way she gripped him.

“I like them old,” she admitted. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re so wet right now? Because you’re working my cock so fuckin’ much,” the man said in her ear, making her whine.

“Yes — Yes, that's why,” she admitted again. “Well luckin’ me,” Logan snapped his hips, getting ready to spill deep into her.

“P-Please cum in me,” she begged as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he knew she really wanted it. She needed it.

“Wasn’t gonna do it any else were, Bub,”

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paper-mario-wiki · 2 days

Note

hey so …question.

i was raised male. biologically female. it’s for very greek hero reasoning, i promise. nothing boring ever happens in my family.

i don’t want to be male. i want to be female. would it be appropriate to call myself a trans woman? it’s something i like using…but i don’t want to appropriate or anything.

hmmm

"trans" is a modifier word, right? that's why it's important to leave a space in "transwoman", because there's no such thing as a entity that is a "transwoman", there is only "a woman that is trans". i consider myself to be a woman. i often say "trans woman", but only because i usually like to describe myself as accurately as possible.

the meaning in the word "trans" is from the relevant change made in one's life. being raised as a boy, i never had anyone teach me to do my makeup, or to put on a dress. during thanksgiving and christmas i was never expected to be in the kitchen with all my sisters and aunts, because that wasn't seen as my responsibility. i don't know how to braid my hair-- i didn't even know how to tie a ponytail for the longest time. all of these things are things i've had to learn as an adult in order for me to start fitting into the social expectations of womanhood. those things are what i'd consider to have been the bulk of the effort in my "transition" so far, and none of them are biological.

if we are going by the bio-essentialist argument (that is to say, the taxonomic origins of the terms "trans man" and "trans woman"), then i'd say "no, you cant use it, because you are biologically female". but then, what's the point of being supportive of trans people if we're still capitulating to the standards of qualification the people oppressing us set?

can i use this reasoning to tell you empirically "yeah you can use this term"? i dont think so, but that's just because of how damn specific your situation is. i have very little knowledge about your actual life, so i dont know how much of a transition you'll have to make to start feeling comfortable as a woman. but hopefully this'll at least give you some perspective on figuring it out for yourself.

#anon

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lovelookspretty · 2 days

Text

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

prev next

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

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hiddenzev · 2 days

Text

Second Confession: Part 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel realises his feelings after seeing reader and Emile spending more time with each other.

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 7.2K

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: Y'all I don't even know how I'm writing longer and longer as each chapter goes by. Thank you for the comments and likes, i'm living for it. Love yall! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It's not as angsty as what some of you hope for tho.

You walk into the cafeteria the next morning to see Emile sitting with the group for breakfast. What the hell? It must be Tommy’s doing for sure. This man interferes too much and sometimes you just want to strangle him. You fill your tray up with the menu of the day before walking slowly to the table, cursing under your breath.

Tommy notices you coming and calls out your name. You put on a fake smile, intensely staring at Tommy for pulling Emile in for breakfast with the group. He raises his eyebrows with a big smile, communicating with you silently to play it cool. You kisses your teeth to restrain yourself from calling him out. As a matter of fact, you almost slap his head when you passed right by him before rounding the table to take a seat.

You were too locked in on Tommy that you didn’t realise that you took a seat right next to Joel. Until you were seated down, that’s when you realise Ellie isn’t by your side. She had swapped her seats with Joel. Before this, you were panicking on not knowing what to say to Emile but now you were nervous, sitting almost thigh to thigh with Joel.

“Good Morning.” you squeezed that out with a strained smile after taking a seat.

You receive a couple of replies and some nods. Emile who sits right opposite you couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Good Morning.” Emile said looking at you, smiling with anticipation behind his eyes.

You give him a polite smile in return before digging in your food. You are only a few bites in and Emile speaks up again.

“How are you? I didn’t see you in the library for awhile,” he asks with a worried look on his face.

“I’m good. I just needed time to myself and get it together again. That’s all,” you explain.

“Oh. Did something happened?”

“Umm, no, nothing for you to worry about. I’m okay,”

“Well, if you say so. I’m glad you’re okay,”

“Thank you.”

You move your hand to pick up your fork to eat again when he opens his mouth to talk, causing you to halt your movements. You put down your fork feeling a little annoyed because you’re hungry and you want to eat. Don’t let your girl get hangry.

“I was just missing seeing that pretty face of yours in the library.” he looks down bashfully, stuffing his face with his food.

You don’t know how to react. Your mouth keeps opening and closing slightly, like a fish, not knowing what to say. You glance to Tommy, who’s sitting beside Emile, for help but this dude is just side eyeing you. Everyone one else was just silently wanting to hear what you would say.

“Oh, t-thanks. It’s nice of you to say that,” you stutters, feeling shy about the compliment.

“I’m not just saying that. You really are beautiful,” he blushes looking at you to say that.

“Thank you.” you said in a small voice, nodding your head awkwardly and breaks the eye contact to look at the table.

You are fiddling with your food, lost in thoughts, when you feel Joel’s elbow grazing yours. That makes you feel the shivers running through your body. How is it when Emile who is flirting with you, did not make you feel anything but when Joel’s elbow are grazing yours, it makes you feel hot? That’s it. You need to lie down and roll on some grass.

He quickly finishes his food and gets up to leave without saying anything. Tommy watches his brother scurrying off until he is out of sight. Lots of thoughts running through his head. You don’t even want to look at Joel leaving so you just keep on eating and talking with Emile.

Since that breakfast, Emile has been joining the group for breakfast and some of the dinners. You have been friendly with him even though you’re not usually open to people but he does seem sincere from what you learn about him from his time here. You do want to befriend him, taking this chance to change your cooped up self and socialise.

He makes an effort to do things for you and also with you. You appreciate it a lot but you kind of feel bad thinking you’re leading him on. You just want to be friends first and not jump into anything rashly.

You open the door and see Emile holding some flowers with a big smile on his face. His face is slightly red, burning up from the shyness.

“Hey, good morning! I got you these pretty little things along the fences out back,” he holds out a bunch of wildflowers that he picked towards you, “they remind me of you.”

You take it from him and brings it close to your face to smell it. It feels wonderful to be given flowers and you don’t even remember the last time someone gave you one.

“Awww, thank you! This is so sweet.” You thank him with an awe look on your face before turning around to put the flowers in an old vase that you found.

Emile is still standing outside, looking inside at what you are doing and occasionally touching the back of his hair nervously. You quickly get your bag and locks the door to not keep him waiting. Emile is walking you to the ranch this morning. He offers to accompany you a few days ago after hearing that you will be on patrol duty that day. The eagerness in his striking blue eyes made you feel bad to turn him down. So here he is walking out with you.

“Thank you for the flowers, Emile. You don’t have to do that.” You thank him again.

He’s been giving you flowers after his solo walks within the town. He’s not able to go outside because he’s lacking the skills on those areas and that is why he’s with the books. He’s a sweet guy with a soft heart that it makes you wonder how did he even survive for this long.

You remember vaguely that he came to Jackson with a small group of people consisting of mostly strong men and only a couple of women and small children. He’s always with the rowdy bunch of men in that group and he stands out like a sore thumb. He’s so out of place there but you don’t really question it because they probably saved him from the horrors that happened outside.

“You’re welcome. I’ve always thought that you’re a cool person so I really want to give those flowers to you. I thought you would love it, y’know,”

“I love it but I feel like I owe you something for all the flowers you have given me,”

“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” He gestures that it’s fine.

You both make your way to the ranch with nonstop talking. You find that it’s easy to talk with Emile. He don’t just cut you off and dismisses what you said. He don’t ignore you and tells you to keep your mouth shut. He don’t give you a dirty look for rambling on and on about the things you are passionate about. Unlike someone.

Meanwhile, back in Joel’s house, he sees everything that’s happening. Ever since Emile was brought up into the conversation, he’s been feeling out of sorts. He sees the way Emile looks at you with so much adoration. He sees Emile being nervous when you’re not looking. He sees Emile making the effort to be close to you.

He knows Emile is one of the good guys in Jackson. He should be glad that at least Emile is treating you well as you deserves it. Joel’s not a good person. He has done a lot of bad things that he thinks are unforgivable. You should not be with him because you could do so much better than his stoic and grumpy ass. He doesn’t know how to break his shell and communicate his feelings better.

You’re tough, resilient, stand on your business type of woman but you’re also stubborn, impatient at times and be lost in your thoughts whenever you can. At first, he thinks you’re adorable actually but he doesn’t want to admit it. He keeps his distance away from you to not get too soft on his feelings. You’re charming in your own way and Joel finds you irresistible after realising your true feelings and the effort that you put in for him.

Yes, he had suspected that you have feelings for him. Like Tommy said, only a fool wouldn’t see it but he ignored it. He has his own demons that he struggles with and he doesn’t want to entertain something that may not be worth risking his heart for. He’s tired of losing the people that he loves and cares about so he keeps his circle small.

Seeing you smiling at Emile when he’s giving you the flowers, he can’t help but feel his heart drops to his stomach. You look so contented and it hurts that he’s the reason of your tears not too long ago. He feels stupid now that when someone else is trying to win your heart, that’s when he gets the urge to do something about it.

He sighs heavily and takes a moment before stepping out of his house. He has to endure seeing you and Emile most of the time now and he’s going to hate seeing how both of you get on so well with each other.

Emile has been walking you to and fro from patrols for two weeks now. It’s lovely that he never fails to show up and keeps you company. Even though there are times when you want to be alone, you don’t mind it because it’s exhilarating seeing Joel’s reaction to seeing Emile with you.

The patrols with Joel were as per usual except you caught him multiple times staring at you. He would also try to make small talks, asking you a couple of questions before completely keeping his silence. You would answer shortly with a slight animosity, giving back the energy that he has given you before. Do you still have feelings for him? Yeah. Do you feel bad for him? No….okay, maybe a little bit but who cares. You’re going to enjoy it for awhile.

You’re sitting on one of your chairs in your back porch, sipping on your hot tea. You have the book that you are currently reading closed on the table beside you. You’ve been catching up on your reading now after that whole confession fiasco with Joel. The library has been one of the places you visited to let your mind be lost in fiction instead of your miserable reality. In addition to that, Emile is there as well to keep the atmosphere lighthearted by checking up on you time to time.

However, this peace did not last long. Strangely, Joel has been coming to the library more often. You did not find it weird at first since you know he do read sometimes. Most of the time you would see him come in straight inside without saying anything to Emile at the front desk. Then, he would take his time to browse the books while glancing around as if to find something that is on his mind.

You observe him from your seat in the corner that is hidden from plain sight due to the shelves. Every time after he sees you, he would go to find a seat with any book that he is holding in his hands without any thoughts. He sits on a table further away facing you and you catch that his ears go red whenever you peek a glance at him. You keep that observation in the back of your mind, not knowing what to think of it.

You do shy away from the eye contact at the start. Distracted by his appearances in the library that now, you subconsciously anticipate him to visit the library when you do. You usually don’t want to think much about it so you won’t get your hopes up again stupidly but you do have your fair share of strange suspicions from him. Not just from the library, you see him lingering around at the places you would bump into him, like the bar, town hall, barn, etc. Whenever you are with Emile and you catch him looking, his face is always scowling while looking away.

You get out of your thoughts of Joel acting strange after you hear your name being called by Ellie from the front of your house. You take your tea and book inside before hurrying to the front door. You open the door to see her standing with a tight smile, holding something in her hands.

“What’s up?” You ask her with a confused look on your face, not expecting to see her.

“Thought you might want some company. I brought dinner,” she holds up the bag of food to tempt you.

“Sure, come in.” You invite her in the house.

Ellie goes straight to the kitchen to put down the food. Both of you help each other to set up the table to eat. After a couple of quick movements, you and Ellie are finally seated down facing each other.

“It’s been awhile since we hang out just the two of us,” she takes a little bite out of her vegetables.

“Yeah, I guess there’s been a lot of things going on.” You reply to her while picking at your food a little bit.

Ellie shares everything that has been happening with her. She talks about school and her friend, Dina, mostly. You have always thought that Dina is more than just a friend to Ellie from the way she talks about her. It’s cute but you’re going to let Ellie realise her feelings herself and talk to you about it at her own pace.

You listen to everything that she says and answers any questions that she has about the things she’s curious about. Eventually, she talks about Joel which is bound to happen anyway because she lives with that guy.

“Joel has been a little weird, man” she shares.

“How?” You question her, not giving that information that you find him acting strange too.

“I don’t know. He seems restless, moving around the house trying to find something to fix or whatever. It’s making me stressed.” She grumbles while shoving food in her mouth.

You just nod your head to her complaining.

“I’ve noticed that he plays the guitar a lot more now at the back porch, sometimes late into the night.”

Your mind goes to the guitar pick that you gave him. You wonder whether he still has it.

“Oh! He’s finishing the chess set soon. I think he said that he got a couple of pieces left before he’s done with it. I can’t wait to learn and play it.” She smiles at you excitedly.

“That’s good to hear. I bet you would be coop up in the house pestering him to play with you.” You grin at her after seeing her contagious smile. She giggles imagining herself doing that.

“I’ve seen the pieces that he’s done but there was one that stood out to me,” she smirks at you.

“What?” You genuinely ask her while picking up your glass to drink.

“It’s the only one with a lighter shade and has initials at the bottom of it unlike the rest.” She looks at you knowingly.

You almost spits out your drink but you keep it in causing you to cough painfully. Ellie looks at you concerned.

“You good?”

You nod while clearing your throat a little bit. She stares at you for a moment before speaking up.

“I’ve seen the initials. It’s yours isn't it?” She asks softly.

You pick at your food and finish the last bit on your plate. You look at her and sighs heavily before nodding your head defeatedly.

“Was that why you ask that question during the Never Have I Ever game?”

“Yeah,” her mouth curls at the sides.

“You little shit,” you scoffs remembering that game night.

“Did you give him that night when you confessed?” This time she asks with a serious tone.

“I didn’t tell you guys about that but yeah, together with a guitar pick and a letter.” You confess to her about it shyly.

“That’s sweet,” she gives you a reassuring smile. You smile at her before it slips thinking about that night’s harsh rejection by Joel.

“I thought he would throw it away,” you said in a somber voice, “didn't know he still has it.” You voice trails off, distracted by your thoughts of your chess piece among his.

“You know,-“ she pauses for a moment, hesitant to say the thing that is on her mind, “there are times I’ve seen him holding that piece and just stare at it.” Ellie observes you while trying to drink nonchalantly but her clumsiness overpowers it.

‘’What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrows towards her.

“Maybe he’s been thinking of you,” she shrugs her shoulders, raising her eyebrows with a little curl at one side of her mouth that you do not miss.

“Maybe he’s regretting what he did.” Ellie stands up to clear up the plates since the both of you are done with dinner.

You help out as well, wiping the table and countertop. The thoughts of what Ellie said bothers you while you are cleaning. After you are done, you lean your hip on the countertop and turns to Ellie who is still washing the dishes.

“You really think that he have feelings for me and is regretting his actions?” You ask for her opinion, staring at her side profile.

“Yeah and he’s probably feeling shitty about it. We all know he sucks at talking about his own feelings.” She wipes her hands on a towel before turning her body to you. “Hopefully he got the balls to apologise and make up to you soon.” She brushes past you to get a glass of water and heads to the living room.

You sit down on the sofa beside her, sighing heavily while you rest your head back on the sofa. You close your eyes trying to not let this soften your heart more for Joel. You are already weak for the man and you don’t want to easily forgive and forget what happened.

“Got nothing to tell me about Emile?” She slurps on her drink and eyes you suspiciously, smirking.

“What about him?” You open your eyes, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m just wondering how you feel about him now.” She turns to face you, folding her legs underneath her to listen to what you have to say.

You got no choice but to sit up straight seeing the excitement in her eyes. The smile that you try to hide slowly appears on your face. The way she wriggles her eyebrows up and down earns a scoff from you. You shake your head slowly at her innocence, reminding you of when you and your friends were talking about boys back in the days.

“He’s a nice guy. Sweet and polite. Comfortable to talk to, y’know.” You give her a forced smile trying to convince her. Nodding your head a couple times as if to tell yourself as well that there was nothing else to say.

“But?” She probes you for an answer with one raised eyebrow, suspecting there is more to the story.

“Nothing. That’s all.”

“Oh come on! Don’t lie to me,” she slaps her hands on her thighs and look in your eyes, not backing down.

“There’s nothing!” You raise your hands, palms facing up. “That’s what I’m saying.” Eyes wide, telling her the truth.

She looks at you with eyebrows pinched, confused look on her face. You take a moment to take a deep breath.

“I don’t feel anything more than a friend with him. Seriously. He reminds me of a close friend of mine in college. I miss that goofy ass fucker so much.” You laugh softly, thinking about your dear friend, Kai, that had been there for you through the rough patch of your young adult life.

You don’t know what happened to him after the outbreak. The last you heard from him was that he’s going overseas to start his own business abroad. Whenever you are down, you can hear him in your head telling you to keep your head up.

Ellie watches you reminiscing about your friend and you can see that her smile slowly fades as if she is thinking about one of her friends too. You had no intention to bring the mood down by thinking about the past so you keep on talking.

“Yeah. Also, he’s way too sweet for me. I’ve never seen that man pick up a gun before, not even a knife. Never gotten into a fight since he came here,”

“Oh wow. Even I almost got into a fight the first day here.” She looks away with an embarrassed smile.

“Of course you would.” Both of you laugh at the memory of Ellie getting agitated on her first day in Jackson.

“He’s lovely but the guys he hangs around with are assholes,” you can’t help but throw a disgusted look on your face thinking about Emile’s group of friends.

“I’ve noticed.” Ellie rolls her eyes.

“It seems like he owes them his life and can’t get himself out of their circle. I’m not surprised because he do seems like an angel, way too kind to other people.” You solemnly say thinking about how they treat Emile like a pushover sometimes.

You turn around to lean your back against the sofa again. Ellie stays put and as she looks around the house, she could see the window facing their house and catches Joel returning from his dinner at the cafeteria.

“Total opposite than that old fucker.” Her eyes are still fixed on Joel.

Your head snaps abruptly to her after hearing that and you turn your body completely to see who she is looking at even though you lowkey (pardon my gen z language lmao) have a clue who she is talking about. The view of Joel’s broad back can be seen heading to his front door with his head down. You wonder what’s on his mind. You absentmindedly stares at the house even when Joel is long gone from your sight.

“You still like him, do you?” You look at her, seeing a playful smirk on her face as she looks at you to prove her point wrong.

You stands up to face her, tilting your head to the door. “I think it’s time for me to get ready for bed.”

She do not make any moves except making an exaggerated face at you, rejecting your answer to her question. You laugh at her funny face, finding it really hilarious.

“Get your ass up and go,” you laughter eventually dies down. You clap your hands once, tilting your head again to the door, wanting her to leave.

She grumbles as she gets up and gathers her stuff. Ellie can’t help herself from teasing you, “I know you still like him.” She says in a singsong manner.

Only thing you could do is just to shake your head slowly with a lopsided smile on your face. You follow her to the door before she faces you again.

“I’m going to kick his ass until he get his shit together,” she determinedly says with a serious look on her face.

“If you say so, Ellie, I can’t stop you.” You raises your hands, palms by the side of your face in a surrendering way.

You open the door for her to walk out and both of you bid goodnight to each other.

The following night, Joel is found seated in his usual spot in Tipsy Bison. He is already a couple of drinks in than his usual intake in Jackson. There is a lot going on in his head and he wants to shut it out using alcohol. Tommy and Maria is seen walking towards Joel after spotting him as soon as he steps into the bar. Joel doesn’t know how but Tommy always coincidentally find him when there is something bothering him. It’s annoying but he’s grateful that his brother is always there for him.

“Are you drunk already?” Tommy eyes Joel closely. He lets Maria sit inside the booth first before sitting down next to her, opposite of Joel.

“No,” Joel grumbles before muttering again in a small voice, “just a little bit tipsy.”

“Something on your mind?” Tommy asks concernedly.

Joel didn’t answer, looking down at his glass, swirling the drink around in one hand. Maria who senses that she should let them talk privately, stands up and let Tommy know she’s getting drinks for the both of them.

When Maria walks away, Tommy asks Joel again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Joel purses his lips, staring at his little brother.

Tommy definitely knows that Joel is lying but he lets it slide. He knows Joel will come around and tell him the truth eventually. They both wait until Maria comes back with the drinks. As usual, the three of them are talking about the developments of Jackson and how to implement more improvements on certain areas when Joel sees you and Emile walking into the bar. He stops listening to what Tommy is saying immediately, his head is miles away from the conversation in just a snap of a finger.

Emile leads the way to a table for two that is empty, quite near the area Tommy, Maria and Joel are sitting. You are so into the conversation with Emile that you do not even stop talking as you sit down. Your seat is facing Joel but you still hasn’t notice him yet. You are talking about your favourite movies, debating with Emile, which 90s romcom is the best.

(Spoiler alert! If you haven’t watch ’10 things I Hate About You’ and ‘You’ve Got Mail”, I’m sorry)

“Nothing can top ’10 Things I Hate About You’ come on. Patrick, the so-called ‘bad & dangerous’ boy, got paid to take Kat, which is a girl boss by the way, on a date.” You try to convince Emile.

“Then he falls for her, she falls harder and then she got hurt thinking it was all fake when it’s not, then he bought her the guitar that she ever wanted and they kissed! Voila!” You explain the storyline animatedly, moving your hands around wildly.

“But have you seen ‘You’ve Got Mail’?” Emile shoots you an even more thrilled look.

“Of course,” you reply in a disbelieving look.

“The perfect enemies to lovers. The. Best.” Emile emphasises on the the last two words.

“You know what’s underrated?”

“What?”

“French Kiss.” You state it with a straight face.

“Wh-what?” Emile asks with widened eyes, eyebrows shoot up as high as it can go.

You hear someone coughing badly nearby but you don’t check who it is. It is actually Joel that is coughing. He was eavesdropping the entire time, watching you talk with so much passion about the movie. He obviously does not watch romcoms unless Sarah wants to. He heard about the movie you’re talking about before but did not have a chance to watch it.

Tommy and Maria were caught up in their own conversations that they didn’t notice you since you are not in their view or recognise your voice. Joel did not expect you to say French Kiss which caused him to choke on his drink. He covered his mouth as he coughs.

“Are you okay?” Tommy turns back to Joel hearing him coughing.

“Yeah.” Joel says in a strained voice, cleaning up where he had made a mess.

Are you flirting with Emile? Is that a hint that you want to kiss Emile? All kinds of thoughts are racing through his mind. He was not able to hear your explanation for that because he was coughing and was taken aback to process anything.

“French Kiss. The one with Meg Ryan in it as well.” you say, oblivious to what you had accidentally implied.

“Oh. The movie.” You find that Emile replies in a weird tone and you notice that his face is turning red. You do not say anything about it and continue to talk.

“Yeah. Have you seen it?”

“Unfortunately, no.” A disappointing smile on Emile’s face.

“Aw man, it’s kinda silly but I like that movie. Wish you could watch it.” Both of you finally comes back to reality knowing that there is zero chance that you could watch it again.

You hear your name being called and you look towards where the sound came from. Tommy is waving his arms to catch your attention but that wasn't what caught your eye. It is the man that is staring at you with a softness in his eyes that you have never seen in him before. You don't break eye contact with him until Tommy invites you to join them.

“You go first, I’ll get us something to drink.” Emile suggests and nods his head towards them. His hand rest on your shoulder for a moment to indicate that he will be back soon.

You thank Emile before making your way to them. As you come closer, Joel slides in more into the booth to give you some space to sit. It will be awkward for you to reject his gesture so you suck it up and sits beside him, facing Tommy directly.

“I didn’t see you just now, did y’all just came in?” Tommy asks you.

“Yeah, a couple minutes ago.” You nod your head profusely, your eyes darting from Tommy to Maria continuously. “What were you guys talking about?” You question, not knowing what else to talk about.

Maria explain to you that they were discussing about Jackson and how to progress it into a better community. You try to focus on what she is saying but the presence beside you cannot be ignored and you can’t seem to be able to turn your head to look at him.

Emile approaches and put down the drinks towards your side of the table. He is awkwardly standing trying to figure out where to sit. You move in towards Joel, your thighs and arms in contact with his and the three of you squeeze into one side of the booth. You lean forward to sip on your drink with your elbows on the table, trying not to touch Joel’s arms.

Tommy and Maria are amused by what’s happening, quietly observing you. You raises your eyebrows at the couple asking them to help you from this awkwardness. They glance at each other while trying not to smile.

“So I’ve seen the both of you together a lot these days.” Tommy gestures to you and Emile to address the situation.

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out.” You reply shortly to Tommy in a casual tone. “Why?”

“I’m just glad that you look happier and relaxed,” Tommy genuinely smiles at you.

“Well, it’s all thanks to Emile,” you look to Emile beaming at him, “you’ve been a great friend to me.”

“You too. I’m always here if you need me.” Emile look you in the eyes with a reassuring smile.

Joel clears his throat and taps his fingers on the table restlessly. Your face fell hearing that noise and turns back towards the table with your jaws clenched.

“You both good to go on a supply run next week? Just the two of you, like patrols.” Maria chimes in, asking you and Joel specifically.

You look over your shoulder at Joel and see that he’s already looking at you to gauge your reaction. His hand is scratching his beard back and forth mindlessly. He wants to know if you’re okay with it first before agreeing.

“I’m good,” you answer as you lean back against the booth which causes you to hunch your shoulders slightly due to the small space you have in between the men.

Maria looks at Joel for his reply and Joel gives her a sharp nod agreeing with you.

“It’s going to be further away than the previous times. Probably gonna be two days trip so get ready for that. I’ll tell you guys the details when it’s nearer to that day.” Maria explains without breaking any eye contact on either one of you.

The conversation continues between Maria and Emile as they talk about his duties and whether or not he has enough help in the library. As it goes on, you let the information of the supply run process in your head. It’s going to be a two days trip to look for more supplies with Joel. The longest time you’ve been with Joel alone is your usual patrols with him which last half a day only. How are you going to survive this trip? It’s funny that you’re more worried about Joel than being out there for 2 days.

Joel must have been worrying about the same thing because you can see him fidgeting with his hands that are resting on his thighs. His hands stop moving and your eyes slowly move up to his face. You freeze, not able to look anywhere else as he gazes into your eyes. To you, it seems like there is a lot that he’s saying behind those eyes. It isn’t threatening, It isn’t menacing. It isn’t judging you. He appears to look in your eyes as if to memorise the details of it. You can almost hear your heartbeat growing faster and faster.

Oblivious to you both, Tommy is watching everything that is happening. He has been secretly hoping for Joel to finally realise his feelings for you and make a move. Although it’s kind of shitty of him to use Emile but whatever it takes for that big brother of his to do something about it.

“Hey Emile, wanna join us for pool?” One of Emile’s friends, Jack, comes by the table to invite him to a game of pool.

Emile looks behind over Jack to see his group of friends at the pool table waiting for him.

“You can bring your mummy along if you want.” Jack points at you with a creepy smirk. He’s eyeing you up and down making you feel disgusted and angry.

“Uh-“ Emile tries to say something but you interrupt him.

“I’m not his mummy,” you snap at him with a deep frown on your face.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs, “you’ve been keeping him to yourself for weeks, who knows what you’re doing with him.”

You’re so close to getting up and punching the asshole in the face when Joel slams the table with his fist, causing everyone to flinch. You do not have to turn around to know how angry Joel is. You can see from Jack’s face that he’s now realising that there’s a big bad wolf waiting to pounce on him from beside you. Tommy’s body already facing Jack, ready to grab him if he says anything else.

“Fuck off before I break your fucking jaw.” Joel barks at him.

Jack scurries away, leaving the table in silence. You can hear Joel’s shallow breath from the anger.

“I’m sorry,” Emile mutters in a weak voice, his eyes facing downwards.

“You’re gonna keep your friend in check or what?” Joel growls at Emile.

You quickly turn your head around to face Joel angrily. Joel is not breaking his gaze from Emile. His eyebrows are pressed together, jaws clenched. Oh he is as furious as you.

“Or are you running your mouth to them as well that I need to straighten you out too?!” He hiss at him, leaning his body towards Emile to get his point across while you are caught in the middle. He’s almost caging you and there is no space left for you to lean back so you put your hands firmly on Joel’s shoulders, stopping him from pushing.

“Joel!” You look at him with a stern look causing him to look at you. Your hands are still on his strong and broad shoulders, which you wish you are touching them at a different circumstances.

“Enough.” You ordered.

Your hands slowly fall from his shoulders reluctantly. He sighs, looking away from you and moves back a little to give you space. You turn to face Emile again.

“You’re gonna go to them?” You asks him in a low voice, feeling sympathetic seeing him shaking slightly.

“I have to. I’m sorry for what he said,” He whispers, looking at you sadly.

“It’s not your fault. Let me know if anything happens, okay?” You reassure Emile, placing your hand on his arm.

He nods at you before getting up to face the rest, “I’m sorry, guys, for what happened.” HIs hands interlocked with each other as he looks at everyone on the table with a apologetic look on his face.

Tommy and Maria gives him a small nod in reply. Joel doesn’t even look at Emile, only gripping his glass hard. Emile walks off hesitantly towards his friends.

You face Joel, not wanting to let what he said to Emile slides.

“What was that?” You blurt out at him

“What?” He looks at you annoyed.

“Why did you lashed out on Emile?”

“That asshole is his friend. He should know better to keep his friend’s mouth shut.”

“It’s not his fault that his friend is an asshole.”

“So you’re gonna defend that boyfriend of yours now?”

You roll your eyes and sighs heavily. You move out of the booth, pointing at Joel and to yourself.

“You. Me. Outside. Now.” You stare down at Joel.

Joel looks up at you, seeing you ordering him around for the first time.

“I’m serious.” Not backing down even though he’s giving you his meanest face.

“Sorry guys, I’ll see y’all around. G’night.” You say to Tommy and Maria with tight lips. You look at Joel again and indicate with your head that you will wait for him outside.

The chilly air greets you as you step out of the bar. You can tell that the snow is going to come soon. You head to the bench by a tree right beside the bar to wait. You didn’t have to wait long before you see Joel heading towards you. He stops a couple steps away from you, rubbing his hands together, feeling the coldness of the night.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You get to the point right away. You want to clear every single speck of air between the two of you.

“Excuse me?” Joel frowns, not believing what he just heard.

“Did you not hear what I just said? I said,” you take a step closer to him, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you enunciated every word clearly to him, almost shouting because you are so angry and confused with him.

“You’re asking what is wrong with me?” He points at himself, one brow lifted.

You nod your head, eyes wide looking at him.

“No, what is wrong with you? You’re the one that keeps hanging around with that boyfriend of yours who cannot even stand up for himself.” he argues.

“He’s not my boyfriend! Also, you don’t even talk to him to know that he’s struggling to put up with that bunch of assholes.” you move your arms wildly, arguing with him.

“Oh give me a break,” he crosses his arms and lean his weight on one side, “I see him coming over to your house all the time.”

You look at him weirdly, “So?”

“So?” He sneers.

You gestures at him to continue his argument. He looks away for a moment, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts and looks at you again with a determined look on his face.

“So what Joel?”

“So you have feelings for him?” he mutters with a strained voice, feeling embarrassed with what he just asked.

“Me and Emile are just friends. Just like me and Tommy.” you don’t even know why you are explaining this to him.

“I see him bringing you flowers all the time,”

“And?”

“And I see how you look at him. Like how you look at me before everything that happened.”

You let out a sigh, looking down at your feet, tired of his hot and cold attitude.

“Joel, you rejected me like almost two months ago, literally saying I was stupid to have a crush on you in the apocalypse and that you don’t give a fuck about me.” You reiterate what he said to you.

“And now you’re here being jealous just because some other man wants me now? I don’t understand what you want from me, Joel. So please kindly explain yourself.”

He uncrosses his arms and take a step closer to you. He looks down at his boots, pursing his lips, gathering the courage to speak about his true feelings.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze moves to your face, eyebrows saddled.

Oh hell no. You have to keep it together to not fall for his big brown puppy eyes. This is the first time you can see that he’s being regretful for his actions.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I was being insensitive to you and there is no excuse for that. You’ve always tried to be nice to me but I was being a dick and kept pushing you away. And now I see him around you all the time and it hurts,” he closes the distance between the both of you, “it hurts to see that I’m not the one making you smile, I’m not the one making you laugh and I’m not the one holding you.” you look up at him, staring at his pleading eyes.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make it all up to you,” he whispers, you can feel his soft breath on your face. His fingers grazing yours and he timidly takes your pinky finger in his index finger and his thumb.

"Please forgive me." he begs you.

Your eyes are lock on his, silence fills the air surrounding the both of you.

"Give me some time and space to think about it. I'll get back to you, okay?" you let him know with a small voice before you get your pinky finger out of his grasp.

He nods at you slowly before moving his body out of your space, letting you breathe properly.

"It's getting cold out here, you better get back inside.” You move slowly out of the way to head home. “I'll head home first, goodnight."

"Goodnight, get home safely." he softly says before heading back inside to the Tipsy Bison.

You walk back to your house with so many thoughts running through your head. You already know that it's going to be a long night for you before you are able to sleep.

Thank you for reading this chapter! Reader folding over the slightest bit of Joel displaying his emotions is so me coded lmao. I will update the finale in two weeks time!

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @rodriguez31 @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @macaroni676 @whirlwindrider29 @vickie5446 @uncassettodiricordi

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller angst

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rootedinrevisions · 3 days

Text

Cop Car: Part 2

SUMMARY: Jake has to endure the punishment laid out by Maverick for sneaking you into a restricted area on base. Of course the rest of the gang can't help but pick on Hangman for the not so special attention that he's getting from Maverick.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

The next morning at training, the sun was already high and blazing over the runway. The pilots of the elite squadron were gathered around their planes, running pre-flight checks and prepping for the intense day ahead. Everyone seemed to be in their usual spirits—except for Hangman.

Jake stood a few feet away from his jet, his usual swagger noticeably absent. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as he reviewed the day’s training schedule on his tablet. But it wasn’t the heat that had him on edge.

It was Maverick.

“Hangman!” Maverick’s voice boomed across the tarmac, the commanding tone unmistakable. “I don’t want to see one damn mistake from you out there today. You better bring your A-game or I’m grounding you until further notice. Understood?”

Jake nodded sharply, his face stiff as he saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s expression didn’t soften in the slightest, his gaze hard as he turned away to address the rest of the team. Jake exhaled slowly, clenching his fists at his sides.

Phoenix, standing nearby, narrowed her eyes as she watched the interaction. “What the hell crawled up Mav’s ass?” she muttered, glancing at Bob, who shrugged with wide eyes.

“No idea, but he’s sure been riding Hangman hard all morning,” Bob replied, adjusting his helmet.

Payback, who was strapping on his gear, raised an eyebrow. “Maybe Hangman finally pushed him too far with all that cocky trash talk?”

Coyote chuckled, overhearing the conversation as he checked his plane’s wing. “Wouldn’t surprise me. That boy’s been pushing everyone’s buttons since day one.”

Phoenix shook her head. “No, this feels different. This is personal.”

Rooster, silent until now, suddenly looked up from his own pre-flight routine. His eyes flickered to Hangman, then to Maverick, a knowing look passing across his face. He pressed his lips together, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

“What do you know, Rooster?” Phoenix asked, her curiosity piqued by his expression. The rest of the team turned their attention to him, waiting for an explanation.

Rooster shrugged casually, though the amused glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Just something I heard. Could be nothing… or it could be that Jake got caught last night somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be.”

Payback raised an eyebrow, his interest growing. “Caught where?”

Rooster let the tension build before he dropped the bomb. “In a restricted area. With the Captain’s daughter.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before the entire team erupted.

“No way!” Phoenix exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Bob asked, looking from Rooster to Hangman and back again.

Coyote whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh man, Hangman really went for it, huh?”

Payback laughed, clapping Rooster on the back. “That explains everything! No wonder Mav’s been on his ass all morning. He’s not just mad—he’s pissed.”

Phoenix smirked, glancing at Jake, who had his back turned to them, oblivious to the conversation. “Guess Hangman thought he could charm his way out of anything, even with Maverick.”

Rooster grinned. “Looks like that didn’t work out so well for him this time.”

Just as they were all shaking their heads in disbelief, Maverick’s voice cut through the group once again. “Seresin! You better get your head in the game or I’m pulling you from this exercise. Do I make myself clear?”

Jake straightened, his jaw clenched even tighter and gave another sharp salute. “Crystal clear, sir.”

Phoenix leaned closer to Rooster, whispering, “Do you think Hangman’s gonna survive this?”

Rooster chuckled under his breath. “Not if Maverick keeps this up.”

Bob, glancing over at Hangman with a small smirk, chimed in. “I don’t know… He survived all of us ganging up on him. Maybe he’s tougher than we think.”

Coyote laughed. “Or just dumber.”

They all shared a knowing look, quietly amused by Jake’s predicament. But despite the jokes and jabs, they were still a team. And though they would give Jake a hard time, they also knew that when push came to shove, Hangman would pull through like he always did.

For now, though, it was too much fun watching him sweat.

As the team geared up for the day’s flight drills, they couldn't help but exchange glances every time Maverick barked another order at Jake, each one sharper and more unforgiving than the last. The tension was palpable, but it only fueled the teasing that was sure to come after the training session ended.

Phoenix leaned over to Payback with a smirk. “Remind me to stay the hell away from Mav’s daughter if I want to keep flying.”

Payback chuckled. “Yeah, or at least don’t get caught.”

* * * * *

The warm, familiar glow of The Hard Deck beckoned like a safe haven after a brutal day on the tarmac. Hangman pushed open the door, feeling the cool rush of air and the buzz of conversation wash over him as he entered the bar. He was worn out, both physically and mentally, after a full day of Maverick barking orders at him like he was a rookie again. But he’d survived—barely—and now all he wanted was a cold beer and some peace.

Jake slid onto a stool at the bar, giving Penny a nod. She smiled as she handed him a bottle without asking, already familiar with his order.

"Rough day?" Penny asked, raising an eyebrow as she wiped down the bar.

Jake chuckled dryly, taking a long swig of his beer. “You have no idea.”

He barely had time to settle in before the door swung open again, and the rest of the squadron piled into the bar. Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Coyote—all of them were grinning as they made a beeline for Jake.

“Oh, hell no,” Jake muttered under his breath, already sensing what was coming. He took another gulp of his beer, bracing himself as they closed in.

Phoenix smirked as she sidled up next to him. “So, Hangman,” she began, her tone dripping with amusement. “You gonna survive round two tomorrow, or is Mav going to run you into the ground again?”

Jake rolled his eyes, lifting his beer in response. “Please. He can try, but I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Coyote appeared on his other side, clapping him on the back. “Barely, man. You looked like you were ready to drop after that last drill.”

Bob chuckled softly from across the table, adjusting his glasses. “Can’t imagine what today’s extra ‘training’ must have felt like. That was… a lot.”

Phoenix leaned in closer, raising an eyebrow. “You know, we all thought Mav was going to tear you apart after what happened last night.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But somehow, you’re still in one piece.”

Jake gave her a nonchalant shrug, though the tension in his shoulders hadn’t quite eased. “What can I say? I’m too good to kill.”

Before anyone could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and the atmosphere seemed to shift as Maverick strode in. His presence was impossible to miss, and the squad straightened instinctively, casting curious glances in his direction. Hangman, however, braced himself, wondering what was coming next.

Maverick didn’t waste any time. He crossed the bar in a few strides, heading straight for the group. His eyes flicked to Hangman, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Jake stood a little straighter, setting his beer down as Maverick came to a stop beside him.

With a firm pat on the shoulder, Maverick gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Nice work today, Seresin,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight behind it. “You held up better than I expected.”

Jake let out a small breath, trying to suppress his relief. But before he could respond, Maverick’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and he leaned in, his tone sharpening. “I hope you’re ready to do it all over again tomorrow.”

The warning was unmistakable. Maverick wasn’t done with him—not by a long shot.

Jake swallowed hard, his earlier bravado faltering. “Yes, sir. Ready for whatever you’ve got.”

Maverick’s eyes lingered on Jake for a moment longer before he straightened, the smirk returning to his face. “Good. Because tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” Without another word, he released his grip and turned to acknowledge the rest of the squad with a nod. “You all did good work today. Keep it up.”

As Maverick made his way over to the other side of the bar to talk with Penny, the squad’s attention snapped back to Jake, and the teasing immediately began.

Phoenix was the first to speak, her laughter bubbling up as she leaned on the bar. “Oh, man. You should’ve seen your face, Hangman. Looked like you were about to melt right there.”

Coyote grinned, shaking his head. “I thought you were supposed to be the cool, collected one, huh?”

Even Bob, usually the quiet one, had to chime in. “Yeah, you looked like you were in trouble for a second there.”

Jake shot them all a glare, picking his beer back up and taking a long swig. “Shut up, the lot of you. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Phoenix raised her hands, palms out in mock surrender. “Hey, we’re just saying… Mav’s got something planned for you, and it sounds like it’s gonna be rough.”

Coyote leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Better get a good night’s sleep, man. Tomorrow’s not going to be any easier.”

Jake huffed, a mix of frustration and amusement tugging at his features. “You’re all just jealous Mav’s paying me extra attention.”

Phoenix snorted. “If by ‘extra attention’ you mean kicking your ass twice as hard, sure.”

* * * * *

Penny leaned against the bar, her keen eyes tracking Maverick as he made his way over. He’d just come from delivering what appeared to be a friendly yet loaded comment to Hangman, who was now surrounded by the rest of the team, their laughter and teasing barely masking the tension in Jake’s posture.

Penny knew that look on Maverick’s face—the tight smile, the steely gaze. It wasn’t just about training, at least not entirely. Something more was brewing beneath the surface, and she had a good idea of what it was. After all, she had overheard a few conversations around the bar that night, whispers about the Captain’s daughter and a certain pilot getting caught in a restricted area.

She picked up a couple of glasses, wiping them absentmindedly as Maverick approached, her expression casual but her mind already working.

When he reached the bar, she didn’t say anything at first, just poured him a drink without asking, setting it down in front of him with a knowing look. He took a sip, leaning on the counter as if the weight of the day—or perhaps, the weight of his own choices—was starting to catch up with him.

“Long day?” Penny asked, her tone light but probing.

Maverick glanced at her, offering a small nod. “You could say that.”

She leaned closer, crossing her arms over the bar as she fixed him with a look that only Penny could pull off—gentle, but firm enough to make him squirm a little. “Heard some interesting stories tonight.”

Mav’s eyebrow twitched, though he kept his eyes on his drink. “Yeah? This place is full of them.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not letting him off the hook. “This one’s about a certain Lieutenant and someone’s daughter sneaking into a restricted area last night.”

Maverick didn’t respond at first, just took another sip of his drink, but Penny saw the slight clench of his jaw. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the inner conflict between Captain Mitchell and the protective father beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to pretend, Pete,” she said softly. “I know what’s going on. And so does half the bar.”

That finally got a reaction. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze, his expression somewhere between exasperation and reluctance. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” she agreed, her voice calm and soothing. “But don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him?”

Maverick’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head slightly. “He broke the rules, Penny. He crossed a line.”

Penny tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Didn’t we all, back in the day?”

Maverick shot her a look, a mixture of amusement and defensiveness playing on his face. “That was different.”

“Was it?” she asked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “I seem to remember a certain pilot trying to win over an admiral’s daughter. And pulling all kinds of stunts to impress her.”

Maverick sighed, leaning back slightly as the memories came rushing back. Penny wasn’t wrong. He’d done more than his share of rule-bending in his younger days, and many of those stunts were in pursuit of her. He’d spent years dancing on the edge of regulations, risking everything in the name of love, adrenaline, and a good time.

Penny gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Come on, Pete. You weren’t exactly a saint, and you know it. Remember that time you tried to sneak into the backyard just to see me?”

Maverick couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “I thought we agreed never to bring that up again.”

Penny laughed, a soft sound that softened the air between them. “I think you’ve already punished Hangman enough. He’s young, and yeah, he’s cocky, but…” She glanced over at Jake, who was still getting ribbed by his teammates across the bar. “From what I’ve heard, he’s also a damn good pilot. And if he cares about your daughter half as much as you cared about me back then, maybe give him a little slack.”

Maverick’s smile faded as he followed her gaze, his eyes landing on Jake. The young lieutenant was putting on a good front, laughing along with the rest of the squad, but Mav could see the exhaustion in his posture, the way he was trying to hold it all together. Jake had a reputation for being brash, sure, but he’d proven himself time and again in the air. And lately, Maverick had noticed a subtle shift in him—a bit more maturity, a bit more responsibility.

Maybe Penny was right. Maybe he was being too hard on him.

He sighed, setting his drink down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Penny softened, reaching out to place her hand on his. “I know, Pete. But you can’t protect her from everything. And Jake’s not a bad guy. He’s cocky, but… so were you.”

Maverick huffed out a laugh. “You’re really not going to let me off the hook here, are you?”

“Nope,” she said, smiling. “You can’t hold onto her forever. And if you trust her, maybe it’s time to trust him, too.”

He let her words sink in, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit. He still wasn’t thrilled about the idea of Jake dating his daughter, but he couldn’t deny that the kid had a good heart. And if Penny believed in giving him a second chance, maybe he should, too.

Maverick stood up straighter, finishing his drink before giving her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Penny.”

She winked at him, her smile warm. “Anytime. Just… don’t make it too easy on him, okay? Gotta keep him on his toes.”

Maverick smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s got a long day ahead of him tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, Penny called after him, her tone light but filled with affection. “Just remember, Pete… you were young once, too.”

He waved her off, chuckling as he made his way out of the bar. But as he walked out into the cool night air, her words lingered. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to give Hangman a little more leeway.

But not too much.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 2 days

Text

Good Boy

Summary: Based on this post from @reidsdimples ! Spencer is being a brat, you put him in his place.

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x Unit Chief fem!reader

Category: smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, bratty Spencer, boss/subordinate relationship, mommy kink

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: for you @lovingreaderfangirl <333 this is basically pure smut ,, don't like it don't read it

main masterlist

Additional warnings: sub!spencer, dom!reader, mommy!kink, handjob, edging (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), choking, slapping, slight nursing

You were the unit chief, and while your relationship with your boyfriend, Spencer, usually stayed out of your work life, today was different. Spencer had made a mistake, and to make things worse, he was acting out—whether it was from embarrassment or just a bad attitude, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to tolerate it.

"You will go back to that house and do another sweep," you said firmly, not looking up from the open case file on your desk.

Spencer scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. "That's ridiculous, Y/N! Morgan’s already there," he snapped, his voice sharp.

Your head shot up at his words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Ridiculous?" you repeated, incredulous. "No, Spencer. What's ridiculous is you missing a massive piece of evidence and then standing here arguing with me about it." Your tone dropped, icy and stern. "You will go back to that house and search it from top to bottom. I don��t care if it takes all night. Am I making myself clear?"

Spencer’s eyes flared with frustration, and he bit back, “So, what, you’re punishing me now?”

The edge in his voice wasn’t something you were used to hearing from your usually sweet, thoughtful Spencer. You stood up, moving around your desk with deliberate steps until you were standing close enough to feel the tension between you.

"Are you talking back to me?" you asked, your voice dangerously low, your authority unmistakable.

Spencer swallowed, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he realized how serious you were. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so angry, so venomous—but even though he was nervous, his stubbornness kept him from backing down just yet.

Spencer straightened his posture, though his nerves betrayed him, making his hands fidget at his sides. He'd never seen you this mad before—at least, not directed at him—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. But he felt too deep in this argument to backpedal now.

"I’m not talking back to you," Spencer muttered, though his tone remained defiant. "I’m just saying Morgan’s already there. There’s no reason for me to go too. We’re wasting time!" His voice escalated again, but it wavered slightly, showing the anxiety bubbling under his frustration.

You were having none of it.

“Wasting time? Is that what you think we’re doing here?” you snapped, each word clipped and precise, your gaze locked onto him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. You were so close now that Spencer could see the tension in your jaw, feel the weight of your authority in the room. You weren’t his girlfriend in this moment—you were his boss, and you were demanding respect.

“Spencer,” your voice dropped, quieter but no less dangerous, “I don’t care how you feel about going back to that house. You missed something crucial, and you need to fix it. You messed up, and you know it. So stop acting like a petulant child and do your damn job.”

The words stung, more than he wanted to admit. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists by his sides, but he couldn’t find the right words to argue back. He was embarrassed—not just because of his mistake, but because he knew you were right. But his pride was wounded, and that was hard to swallow.

"I... I just—" he started, but you cut him off sharply.

“No more excuses, Spencer. You will go to that house, and you will make sure every inch of it has been checked. And if I hear another word of backtalk from you, you’ll be off this case completely. Is that understood?"

Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance slipping further away with each word you threw at him. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, and for the first time, he realized just how much he had crossed a line. But he was still too stubborn to admit it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the edge of sarcasm still lingering, but now laced with a thread of defeat.

You stepped even closer, eyes narrowing as you stared him down. "What was that?"

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t in a position to push any further. “I understand,” he said more clearly, his tone softening. He wanted to reach for you, to find some semblance of the warmth he was used to from you, but he knew better. Right now, you weren’t his to reach for.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the tension that lingered like a storm cloud. You stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut, anger still simmering beneath your skin, but also a twinge of sadness. Spencer had never acted out like that before, and though you knew you had to be stern, it hurt to see him so distant and defiant.

But this was work. Personal feelings would have to wait.

—

However, there was a time and place for personal feelings to come to the surface, and that time was now—in the privacy of your shared apartment with Spencer.

You had gotten home first. Spencer was still out, likely combing through the crime scene after you’d sent him back to fix his earlier mistake. Frustrated by the lingering tension between you two, you huffed your way through your evening routine. You made dinner, though you knew Spencer would probably be too upset to eat when he got home. He could have the leftovers later. After that, you showered and curled up in bed with a book, waiting for him to return.

When Spencer finally came home, his anger was palpable. He slammed the front door behind him, muttering under his breath as he left a trail of clothes through the hallway on his way to the shower. The bathroom door slammed shut as well, echoing through the apartment. You sighed and rolled your eyes—if Spencer thought his attitude would go unaddressed, he was mistaken. He was in for a real punishment tonight.

After what felt like forever, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and towel wrapped loosely around his waist. At least he had the sense to show a hint of submission, you thought.

Without looking up from your book, your voice calm and controlled, you gave your command. "Kneel."

Spencer froze, taken aback by the sudden authority in your tone. He turned his head, his confusion evident. "What?"

You set your book down slowly and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Did you not hear me? Or are you talking back again?" There was a warning in your voice, a promise that you weren’t playing games tonight. "I really don’t want to make your punishment worse, baby."

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in, knowing you were in complete control now. He lowered his gaze, the tension between you thick, as he finally obeyed, dropping to his knees.

You stood up from the bed, your movements deliberate as you slowly circled around Spencer, letting your eyes roam over him with a quiet intensity. The soft sound of your bare feet against the floor was the only thing breaking the silence as you took in his posture—tense, but submissive, waiting for what was coming next.

When you stopped in front of him, you reached down and tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were defiant, even now. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"You know you’re in trouble, right, baby?" you asked, your voice sweet but laced with warning.

Spencer didn’t respond right away; instead, he narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if testing how far he could push. Without hesitation, you slapped his face lightly, the quick sting enough to make him let out a soft whimper. His eyes widened in surprise, but he still held his ground.

Roughly, you grabbed his cheeks in one hand, squeezing his face so he had no choice but to focus on you. "I asked you a question, brat."

“Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, his voice small and obedient now, the fight in him fading. "I know I’m in trouble."

"Hmm, good," you said, releasing his face with a satisfied hum. You began pacing around him again, like a predator stalking its prey, before stopping just behind him, leaning close enough that your breath tickled his ear. "And why are you in trouble, smart boy?"

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Because I argued with you. I was disrespectful. I–I acted like a brat."

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s right." You stood up straight again, looking down at him. "And now, you're going to make it up to me, aren’t you?"

Spencer nodded, his face falling into a sad expression, clearly regretting how he had acted earlier. He was always your good boy, and he knew that punishment was rare because he hardly ever misbehaved. The realization of how far he'd pushed you today weighed on him, leaving him feeling small and upset.

"Why are you pouting, baby?" you asked, your tone softening just a touch as you stood in front of him, looking down at his bowed head.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet your gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap, but still, he said nothing.

"Words, Spencer," you reminded him firmly. "Speak up."

He hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. "I hate that I disappointed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t like being punished… you never have to do this. I’m supposed to be your good boy."

You felt a flicker of sympathy for him, knowing how much he valued pleasing you, but you held firm. "Yes, you are supposed to be my good boy," you agreed, leaning down slightly so that your eyes were level with his. "But today, you weren’t. Today, you acted like a bad boy, and now, you have to accept the consequences."

Spencer bit his lip, nodding again, the weight of his actions settling in further. "I know… I’m sorry."

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking it softly for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you for apologizing. But you still need to learn."

“Stand up. Don’t keep the towel,” you ordered, your voice cold and almost bored, leaving no room for hesitation. Spencer flinched at the command, the sharp tone slicing through the air as he scrambled to comply. The towel slipped from his body, falling to the floor as he stood there, bare and vulnerable.

“Get on the bed,” you continued, moving with a quiet precision as you retrieved something from the dresser, your back turned to him. “Hands above your head.”

Spencer couldn’t see what you were holding, and that only added to his nervousness. He climbed onto the bed, his heart racing, and stretched his arms above his head, just as you instructed.

When you finally turned back toward him, he caught sight of the ties and lube in your hands, and his body reacted instantly—a slight twitch of excitement mixed with fear. His breath quickened, but his eyes never left yours. He hated the feeling of being restrained, of not being able to touch you, to feel you close. But there was something intoxicating about the power dynamic, about giving himself over to you completely.

You approached him slowly, deliberately, the ties dangling from your fingers like a silent promise of what was to come. Without saying a word, you moved to the head of the bed, taking his wrists gently but firmly and securing them to the bedposts. Spencer’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the ties tightened around his wrists, his muscles straining, already longing to break free.

His eyes searched yours, desperate for any hint of softness, but he found none. You were in control, and he knew it.

"Mommy," Spencer whimpered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, full of need and desperation.

You glanced down at him, your gaze calm and measured. "Yes, baby?"

His eyes flickered with longing as he whined, "I want to touch you."

A sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned down slightly, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm, teasing but not giving him what he wanted. "I want that too, my love," you murmured, your voice laced with a touch of sympathy, though your expression remained stern. "But I can't give you a reward quite yet."

"Yet?" Spencer perked up, excitement sparking in his eyes, the word like a glimmer of hope he clung to.

You smirked at his eagerness, trailing your hand down his chest in a feather-light touch, just enough to make him squirm. "Yet," you confirmed. "But you'll have to earn it, baby. That means no whining, no more attitude. Understand?"

Spencer nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation, but you could see the struggle in him—how hard it was for him to hold back, to stay restrained when all he wanted was to feel you. "I’ll be good," he promised, his voice shaky. "Please, I’ll be good."

You smiled, your fingers trailing lower. "We'll see, baby. We'll see."

Spencer squirmed involuntarily as your fingers teased his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Keep still, Spence," you instructed, your voice firm but calm, watching as he took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control over his body.

His wide eyes followed your every move as you reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he watched, anticipation building, as you squirted some of its contents into your hand. The cool sensation made his breath hitch the moment your hand wrapped around him, his back arching off the bed instinctively.

Without missing a beat, you placed your other hand on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress. "Spencer, be good," you warned, your tone leaving no room for disobedience.

His body trembled, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the need to obey you. "I’m trying," he whispered, his voice strained as he fought to stay still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the ties. His chest heaved, desperate to be good for you, but the pleasure was intoxicating, testing his restraint.

You smirked, knowing exactly how far you could push him. "Good boy," you murmured, your hand moving slowly, deliberately, keeping his hips pinned down as he tried not to writhe beneath you, every muscle in his body begging for release, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not even close.

After almost an hour of torture, Spencer was doing everything in his power to follow your rules, his body taut with tension as he tried to stay still beneath your touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wrists pulling at the ties as he strained not to buck his hips against you. But you were making it so hard for him—each time your hand changed pace, it sent him spiraling, his mind spinning out of control. You could feel his body tightening, every muscle coiling as he teetered on the edge.

And just when you knew he was close, so close, you let go.

A desperate sound tore from his throat, half whine, half groan, as you pulled your hand away, denying him the release he so desperately craved. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he looked up at you, practically begging for mercy.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "Please, I want—"

You shushed him gently, running your hand down his chest in a soothing gesture. "Spencer," you said softly but firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "What did I say about being good?"

"I-I’m trying," he gasped, his voice shaky as he fought to hold on. "I’m really trying."

You could see him unraveling, his mind quickly losing grip on any sense of control. And that was exactly where you wanted him.

"Then keep trying, baby," you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his chest. "You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you. Not a moment before."

You sped your hand up, focusing all your attention on the sensitive tip, moving with quick, intense strokes. Spencer's body reacted immediately, his back arching violently off the bed as a scream tore from his chest.

"Mommy! Please!" His voice cracked, high and desperate, tears beginning to stream from his eyes as he lost all composure. "I’m going to come!"

But instead of granting him mercy, you snapped sharply, "No!" The command echoed in the room, and Spencer flinched at your tone. "If you come," you warned, your eyes dark and unwavering, "I’m not stopping."

His breath hitched, and his sobs grew more frantic. He fought to control himself, but the sensation was overwhelming, his mind teetering on the brink of bliss and despair. The threat of what would come if he disobeyed hung heavy in the air, fueling his panic as he tried, with every ounce of strength, to hold back the release his body so desperately craved.

"Please," Spencer sobbed, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face as his entire body trembled beneath your relentless touch. "I-I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Yes, you can," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding as you leaned closer. "You will, or you’ll regret it, baby. Be good for me."

He choked out a whimper, his muscles straining, teetering on the edge of breaking as your hand continued its torturous rhythm, and every nerve in his body screamed for release. But you were in control, and Spencer knew there would be no relief until you decided.

You pressed your palm firmly against the sensitive tip, rubbing harsh circles that sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. He couldn't hold it any longer—a guttural scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, his release spilling across his stomach in hot, frantic bursts.

But there was no mercy in your eyes as you watched him unravel beneath you.

"Oh… bad boy, baby," you tutted softly, your voice laced with both disappointment and a dark edge of amusement. Without missing a beat, you gripped him tightly, continuing your mean, relentless rhythm even as his body spasmed from the intensity.

Spencer writhed beneath you, his sobs louder now as the overstimulation set in, his body too sensitive to handle the unyielding pace of your hand. "Please, please!" he begged, his voice hoarse, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I-I can’t—please stop, I’m sorry!"

But you only leaned in closer, your hand maintaining its punishing rhythm. "I told you, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "if you came, I wouldn’t stop. And bad boys don’t get to decide when it’s over."

Spencer whimpered helplessly, his entire body shaking as he endured the overwhelming sensations, unable to escape the torment of your touch. The line between pleasure and pain had long since blurred, leaving him at your mercy. And you weren't done with him yet.

You suddenly let go of Spencer, pulling your hand away from him. For a brief moment, he thought the torture had finally ended, and he took deep, strained breaths, his chest heaving as tears continued to spill from his eyes.

"Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as if he could finally rest.

But just as he began to relax, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as he felt you sinking down on top of him, your body enveloping him in an overwhelming rush of sensation. The overstimulation hit him like a bolt of electricity, and his body reacted instantly, thrashing beneath you in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity.

"Mommy!" he cried out, his voice ragged and broken as his body twisted under yours. His muscles tensed, his movements frantic, but there was no escape.

"Shut up," you seethed, your voice low and dangerous as you wrapped your hand around his throat, tightening your grip just enough to still him. His breath hitched, and his panicked eyes met yours. "I’m in charge," you reminded him, the weight of your authority pressing down on him as surely as your body did.

Spencer whimpered beneath your grip, his mind a haze of overstimulation and helplessness, but he knew better than to argue with you. His resistance faded as he realized you weren’t done with him yet—not until you decided.

"Tell me, baby," you panted, your body moving rhythmically as you rode Spencer, chasing your own release with relentless intensity. Every roll of your hips drove him deeper into overstimulation, but you were in control, and you weren’t letting up. "How does it feel?"

Spencer sniffled, his voice shaky and tear-filled. "S-so good, Mommy," he stammered, struggling to hold himself together as his body continued to tremble beneath you.

You laughed, the sound sharp and mean as you continued, "Thought you couldn’t take it." There was a mocking edge to your voice as you rode him harder, the sensation overwhelming his senses. "Were you lying?"

"No!" Spencer cried, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of his composure. "It—it hurts, Mommy, but I like it!"

"Yes, yes, you do," you taunted, your tone dripping with satisfaction as you gazed down at him, your pathetic, brainless boy. "You like it when Mommy uses you, don’t you?"

"Yes!" he nearly screamed, his body shaking uncontrollably, caught between pain and pleasure. "Please! Just want to be good for you," he sobbed, his desperation palpable as he surrendered completely to your control.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then be good, baby, and take everything I give you." Your body continued to grind down on him, mercilessly chasing your own release, pushing him further past the point of no return.

By the time you reached your release, Spencer was a wreck beneath you, his body trembling as sobs wracked his chest. He cried out in desperation as your muscles tightened around him, sending him further into an abyss of overstimulation. Each second felt like an eternity for him, trapped between the aching pleasure and the need to obey you.

Just when he thought relief was finally coming, you lifted yourself off of him, hovering just above him, denying him that final push he needed. Spencer’s whine was pitiful, filled with frustration and longing. "Mommy! Please!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Please what?" you asked, your tone deliberately condescending as you leaned back, watching him squirm beneath you. "Use your words, dumb baby."

Spencer swallowed hard, his body twitching with anticipation, his mind too clouded to do anything but beg. "Please let me come," he sobbed, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, Mommy."

You smirked, your eyes dark with amusement as you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the possibility of what he wanted. "Hmm… okay, baby," you said, your voice dripping with false sweetness. "But you’re cleaning it up after."

Spencer twitched at your words, his entire body lighting up with excitement at the promise. The thought of finally getting the release he so desperately needed was enough to make him shiver. "Yes, Mommy," he gasped, nodding eagerly as his breath hitched in anticipation, his mind already surrendering completely to your control.

You lowered yourself back down onto Spencer, and his loud, desperate moan filled the room as he watched you take him in again, the sight alone enough to push him closer to the edge. His body was trembling, every nerve on fire as you rode him hard and fast, the intensity of your movements leaving him powerless to do anything but submit.

His hands tugged against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled cry, he found his release, his body jerking as he filled you up. The sensation of you pinching and tugging at his nipples sent him over the edge, his cries growing louder as his body finally gave in completely.

You slowed your pace, riding out the last of his climax, before finally relaxing on top of him, your breath steadying. Spencer lay beneath you, panting and exhausted, his chest heaving as he came down from the overwhelming high.

With a soft sigh, you pulled off him, moving up his body with a deliberate slowness, positioning yourself directly over his face. You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you smiled wickedly. "Ready to clean up your mess, baby?"

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth already watering at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his voice breathless and submissive. "Yes, Mommy, please," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he awaited your command, ready to obey, to please, and to make up for every bit of his earlier defiance.

You lowered yourself onto Spencer's waiting mouth, threading your fingers through his hair as you settled into a steady rhythm, guiding his movements with gentle yet firm pressure. His tongue worked eagerly, desperate to please you, to clean up every bit of the mess he'd made.

“Oh, Spence,” you sighed, your head falling back slightly as you rode his face, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Your mouth is so good, baby."

Spencer whimpered in response, his efforts growing more determined with every sound of approval that escaped your lips. You could feel the way he was trying so hard to be good for you, to make you proud, and it only fueled your desire to push him further.

"Making Mommy so proud," you praised, your voice laced with satisfaction as you tugged gently at his hair, controlling his pace. His tongue flicked faster, more desperate to hear those words again, and you couldn't help the soft moans escaping you as you continued to ride his face, letting the sensation build.

With each passing second, Spencer's mouth worked harder, your praise driving him to do anything for you. His whimpers were muffled by your body, but the eagerness in his touch and the way he responded to your every command made it clear—he was willing to do anything to make you proud.

You continued to ride Spencer’s face, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him, making sure he stayed exactly where you needed him. His tongue flicked and swirled in all the right places, and the sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his hands instinctively tugging against the restraints as he longed to touch you, to feel your body against his.

"That’s it, baby," you breathed, your voice a mix of praise and moans as you pressed down harder, your body shivering from the sensations he was creating. "You’re making Mommy feel so good."

Spencer whimpered beneath you, the vibrations of his muffled cries only adding to your pleasure as you ground down onto him, riding his mouth with a newfound urgency. Your hips moved faster, chasing the climax that was building inside you, each stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice breathless but firm. "You like being my toy, Spence?"

His desperate whimpers were the only answer you needed. You tugged harder at his hair, pulling his face closer, your pace quickening as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. Spencer’s tongue moved in perfect rhythm with your hips, eager to push you to your peak.

As the tension built, you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself nearing the brink. "I’m so proud of you, baby," you whispered, your voice strained as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So proud…"

With a final, desperate grind against his mouth, the climax washed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out, the release crashing through you in waves. Spencer didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work, not wanting you to take away his favorite treat.

His mouth and tongue continued their relentless work, his eagerness only spurring you on as your cries grew louder. "Oh! Good boy!" you gasped, the praise slipping from your lips as your hips thrust faster against his mouth, riding the wave of pleasure that was building once again.

"You like tasting yourself?" you panted, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as your body moved with a desperate rhythm. Spencer moaned beneath you, his muffled response sending vibrations through your core, and it only drove you to push harder against him.

"Like it coming out of me?" you taunted, your voice strained and full of need as you felt his tongue lapping eagerly at the mess you had made together. The idea of him cleaning up his own release, desperate to please you, sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already overwhelming sensation.

Spencer whimpered beneath you, his body reacting to your words even as he remained restrained, helpless to do anything but obey. The combination of your command, the praise, and the undeniable power you held over him had him lost in submission, and you could feel the tension building in both of you again.

"Such a good boy," you praised, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. "So good at doing exactly what Mommy needs." You rode him harder, your body nearing its limit once more as Spencer's tongue worked tirelessly beneath you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, your moans mixing with Spencer's muffled noises as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hips grinding down faster, chasing that final release.

With a breathless cry, your third climax crashed through you, your entire body quivering as Spencer’s tongue carried you over the edge once again. You moaned his name, gripping his hair tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, not slowing until every last bit of satisfaction had pulsed through you.

You pulled yourself off of Spencer, and immediately he let out a whine, his lips pouting in protest, not wanting you to take his favorite treat away, he could eat you out for hours. His neediness tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently stroked his hair.

"Baby, Mommy is sensitive," you said softly, your voice filled with affection.

Spencer pouted even more, his eyes big and round as he mumbled, "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You did make me feel so good, baby," you reassured him, your smile widening as you saw his face light up, the joy radiating from his eyes.

"Am I your good boy again?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and a bit of that endearing vulnerability that always made you melt.

Your heart softened instantly, and you leaned down, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You’re always my good boy," you whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, eyes full of adoration.

After you untied him, you took your time massaging his arms and wrists, soothing the slight redness left behind by the ties. You helped him into the shower with you, gently guiding him as he leaned heavily against you, still needing your care. The warm water cascaded over both of you as you softly washed his body, your touches gentle and nurturing. Spencer rested his head against your shoulder, completely relying on your strength, his exhaustion clear as he sighed softly, content in your embrace.

Once you were both dried off and dressed for bed, you brought him back to the comfort of your bed, where you massaged lotion into his arms, making sure he felt taken care of. Your lips peppered soft kisses over his skin as you worked, your voice a soothing murmur as you whispered how good he was, how proud you were of him.

"You’re so good, Spencer," you murmured between kisses. "Always my good boy."

Spencer sighed, his body fully relaxed now as he basked in your affection, letting your words and touch wash over him like a warm blanket. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile playing on his lips as you continued to kiss and praise him, reminding him of just how much he meant to you.

“Mommy…” Spencer’s voice was soft, hesitant, as he lay beside you, his head resting on your chest.

“Mhm?” you murmured back, feeling the weight of tiredness pulling at you, though still present enough to listen to him.

“Can I suck…?” His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty.

You giggled softly, a wave of affection washing over you for your needy little baby. "Of course, Spence," you murmured, lifting your shirt to give him the comfort he craved.

Without hesitation, Spencer nestled his head underneath, latching onto your breast with a soft sigh. His body relaxed against yours, and you could feel the tension melt away as he suckled gently, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

You stroked his hair lovingly, the intimate moment between you quiet and peaceful. “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered softly, letting him find the comfort he needed as you both slowly drifted off to sleep, his head resting safely against your chest.

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thomas-jefferson-miku-binder · 2 days

Text

I hate Mel Medarda discourse because she’s an insanely well-written character with a lot of depth, but people almost always have only two things to say about her: 1) evil girlboss or 2) never did anything wrong. both make me want to krill myself 🦐

In front of you, there’s a female character born of war who rejects the physical brutality of her family’s name and the regime she was born under. except said violence never really goes away because if it ever does leave, nothing else would remain

This character can and will reproduce the hatred she has always known, just in more palpable ways, ways where she’s allowed to look away — or even better, ways where she’s so distanced from the action itself that where she “looks” doesn’t even matter

It’s also so interesting to think that maybe Mel doesn’t dislike physical violence because it’s “bad” but simply because she does not excel at it The thought that if Mel was maybe stronger or a more skilled fighter, she would be just like her mother tickles my brain. yaaaas Although, to me, that's a more "what-if" scenario than the actual characterization Arcane deceipts

By the way, I do not think Mel is a monster. She clearly does try to be what she considers a "good" person, but the violence she’s always known sometimes escapes (just like in the Viktor scene above — she does not like to be disagreed with).

Sooo insane that she’s a diplomat/politician because yes. what other job in the world would allow her to exercise that repressed violence while also giving her the sense of duty—of goodness.

Mel is stuck at the scene of the execution form her childhood. All she does is repeat the same scenario in her head with different outcomes: sometimes one where she saves the prisoner, another where she doesn’t hesitate (that being the keyword here) to kill her

This reverberation of the violence she suffered is just her manner of coping with that traumatic scene. a way of lessening the pain without actually confronting its cause.

I feel like I need to clarify that no, I do not think Mel is “evil”. I don’t even think she is intentionally manipulative (most of the time), I think she handles people the only way she knows how to, which is probably one of the only reasons she survived Noxus at all (as, to how I see it, there's only a certain extent your House will guarantee your protection in Noxus).

I know the fandom talks a lot about Viktor and Jayce being idealistic, but I rarely see people mention how Mel is just as romantic. Jesus- that’s literally a huge source of conflict with her mother: Ambessa thinks Mel is naive, which to her means weakness, which to her is unacceptable.

I hate that Mel Medarda is forced to be subjected to fandom spaces, because, no, she is not a small bean. no, she’s not an evil girlboss.

Do I believe she is a good person? I think she tries to be (even if her notion of goodness is so heavily aligned with honor, too), and that tells me a lot more about her character than how successful she is at it

#bringing some of my twitter rambles to here because i think it makes semi sense #cali speaks #mel medarda #arcane #arcane: league of legends #lol #league of legends #meta #character analysis

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sonotpattismith · 2 days

Text

My Lost, Fearless Leader.

(Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k

warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta

a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

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