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taesjpq · 2 months ago

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Jealousy part. II

genre — best friends to lovers, fluff, smut MDNI!! pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — read part 1 hehe, this is pure smut (with plot) word count — 8,7k (part II)

I highly recommend reading part 1, first, or this probably won’t make much sense.

Warnings and notes under the line.

Notes: mention of san (ateez) and sangyeon (theboyz)

Well… it’s finally here!! it’s been a while, so even if you’ve already read part 1, I recommend giving it another read before diving in – this picks up right where it left off. Enjoy, and please scream & shout at me about how you liked it!! it’s my first time writing smut, so be kind (but also honest hehe) ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, switch!mingyu (CAUSE I KNOW HE IS), switch!reader, needy mingyu (yes that’s a warning), semi-public situations (they're not getting caught at all), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), consent emphasized, breast play, dirty talk, edging, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that!!), cockwarming, aftercare implied, excessive use of “fuck” and “shit” (because i can’t stop it)

21:12

"Woah."

Hoshi and Wonwoo storm inside, the door swinging shut behind them. "I almost turned into a damn tree waiting out there. Thought you guys were pretending not to be here."

There’s a pause. His eyes flicker around the room—searching.

"For whatever reason," he adds, dragging out the words before shooting Wonwoo a look, wiggling his brows. Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, balancing bottles in both hands.

Usually, Mingyu would roll his eyes, maybe even smack Hoshi for a dumb comment like that. But right now? His mind is too hazy, too full—still tangled up in you.

The second you hear their voices, you go.

Straight to the bathroom. Fast enough to escape, slow enough not to raise suspicion. The door clicks shut behind you, just shy of a slam.

Your hands grip the sink. Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed, cheeks burning, lips—fuck.

You look wrecked.

Your hair is a mess from where Mingyu had leaned too close, your lips are swollen from nothing but a brush, and your skin still tingles where his breath had been.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Inhale deep. Try to steady yourself.

Because they’re out there. He is out there. And you need to act normal.

So you force it all down, splash cold water on your face, and when you step out of the bathroom, you do what you do best.

You pretend.

"Why the hell wouldn’t you guys pick up my call? I was going crazy. Do you know how much I paid yesterday for your shit?"

Hoshi sprawls out on the couch, his voice loud and dramatic, while Wonwoo sets the snacks and bottles down on the table.

That’s how Hoshi expresses his worry—through complaints, through exaggerated frustration that’s half real, half just him being Hoshi. Usually, Mingyu would respond. Would roll his eyes, laugh, tease him back.

But right now?

Mingyu isn’t listening.

He can’t listen.

He sinks onto the couch, still lightheaded. Still caught up in the last few minutes.

Hoshi is talking—something about the night, something Mingyu should probably respond to—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s still in the kitchen. Still pressed against you. Still feeling the ghost of your lips brushing his. His whole body is tense, his skin too warm, his jeans way too fucking tight.

He shifts uncomfortably, subtly adjusting himself before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap. He tries—really, really tries—to focus on Hoshi. To nod at the right moments. To act normal. But all he can think about is how soft your lips felt, how you looked at him. The way your lips parted just slightly, like you were going to—

"So tell me, what did you guys do today?"

Fuck.

Mingyu freezes.

What—what is he supposed to say? That you guys—? No. No fucking way.

His stomach tightens. His jeans—shit—feel impossibly tighter. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him. He wasn’t even drunk, but it was too hot in here. Too much. Too you.

"Umm…" he mutters, fingers pressing to his temple, trying to come up with something—anything—normal to say.

"Nothing much," you say, stepping into the living room. Too casual. Too even. "Just ate, watched something. Pretty chill."

Hoshi hums, unconvinced.

And Mingyu—Mingyu forgets how to breathe.

His eyes drag over you—your face, your lips. Your legs, where he was between them just minutes ago.

Shit.

His grip tightens on the pillow.

"Yeah, of course," Hoshi says, voice laced with suspicion. But thankfully, he shrugs it off, already moving on to another topic. The conversation shifts, flows into something else.

But Mingyu doesn’t.

He stays still. Because you don’t look at him. Not once.

Since the second you walked into the room, since the moment you spoke, you haven’t spared him a single glance.

And fuck, that does something to him.

Fingers clenched. Jaw locked. Heart pounding.

Because this isn’t over.

Because no matter how much you pretend—

No matter how steady your voice is, how carefully you avoid his gaze—

He knows.

He knows now.

22:12

"Well, I was supposed to go out with the other guys tonight, but of course, you guys come first," Hoshi announces dramatically, stretching across the couch.

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his phone. "Why are you lying? You were the one who insisted on coming here and dragged me along."

Hoshi huffs and lightly smacks Wonwoo’s arm. "Shh, be quiet."

But then, as if the thought just occurred to him, Hoshi perks up. "Actually… now that I think about it, I could've brought them along. They’re pretty cool."

He pauses for effect, then smirks. "Especially Sangyeon."

There’s something in his tone—something teasing—that immediately puts you on edge.

"You know what?" He grins. "I should introduce him to you. He might be your type."

Your head snaps up.

And so does Mingyu’s.

The air shifts in an instant.

“I—uh, I��m actually pretty picky, so don’t bother.”

“Come on, it can’t be that complicated. What is your type, anyway?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think—your gaze flickers to Mingyu.

Shit.

You regret it immediately. The moment is too fast, too obvious. Wonwoo catches it instantly, his sharp eyes reading your expression like an open book.

"Just leave her alone with your nonsense," Wonwoo says, his voice even, unimpressed. "Maybe worry about finding your own girlfriend first."

Hoshi gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Hey! I’m trying to help! It’s been years since she’s had a boyfriend!"

Your stomach tightens. You can’t sit here any longer.

Mingyu doesn’t look away. He just watches.

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, you need to get out of here. Now.

You force out a laugh, pushing yourself to your feet. "I think it’s time for more drinks."

"Want some help with that?” Wonwoo asks, still half-distracted by his phone.

"No!" It comes out too fast, too desperate. You cringe at yourself but don’t stop.

You don’t wait for a response—you just go.

The moment you step into the kitchen, you exhale sharply, setting the glasses down and gripping the counter.

Just breathe. In and ou—

“Need help?”

His voice.

Casual. Too casual.

He’s there—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulders broad, completely unbothered.Taking up too much space.

An annoyed smile tugs at your lips. Why can’t he just leave you alone?

“I thought I was being clear,” you mutter, staring ahead.

A slow, knowing hum. Amused. Mocking . “I’m just being nice. Like always.”

And he’s enjoying this—teasing you like this.

You shake your head, you shift, pulling open the fridge. “Good. Then don’t be like always.”

Mingyu straightens, uncrossing his arms, a soft chuckle.

You grab a couple of bottles, setting them on the counter before reaching for the glasses in the cabinet.

He doesn’t move. Just staying there at the door frame. Watching you.

“Yeah? And how exactly do you want me then?”

Your grip tightens around the glass.

Mingyu. You little shit.

You inhale, forcing yourself to keep your back to him. “I need you to be quiet. Just quiet.”

“Oh, I can do that,” he murmurs, voice lower, rougher.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. You don’t even turn around. Instead, you keep your gaze on the glasses in your hands—like that’s all you came here for.

“I think you know how.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward him like it’s nothing.

“If you’re done, here, make yourself useful.”

His smirk deepens. You’re trying so hard to act unaffected, but he sees it—the way your fingers tremble slightly, the way your breath catches.

Mingyu tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. “I thought you didn’t want my help?”

You shoot him a glare. You scowl. Why does he have to be so goddamn annoying?

And worse—why does he have to look this good while doing it?

But before you can fire back—

Your phone rings.

You glance down at your pocket, hands too full to reach for it. You sigh, shifting everything toward Mingyu.

He looks at you. A beat of silence. And just when you think he’s going to take the bottles—

His hand moves.

Not for the drinks.

For your phone.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

His fingers brush against your waist as he lifts the hem of your shirt—just slightly.

His fingers curl around your phone. He pulls it out, his gaze flickers down to the screen.

San.

The name rolls off his tongue. He’s heard it before, here and there. Was it someone from work?

His eyes flick back up to yours, searching. “This late?”

You swallow. “Give it back.”

You step forward, but he doesn’t move.

His grip tightens around your phone. He should just hand it over. He should step back.

Instead, the words slip out—low, unfiltered.

“Why is he calling?”

You blink.

Shit. It wasn’t a question he meant to ask. It wasn’t something he even thought about saying. It just fell out of him.

“What?”

The call ends. Silence.

Mingyu doesn’t answer the question. Neither do you.

Before you can figure out what's happening, he smiles. But not just any smile.That slow, knowing, devastating kind.

And then—He puts it back, back into your pocket.

Ding.

A message.

He tilts his head.

Ding. Ding.

“Must be important.”

Another message.

“You close?”

His voice dips lower.

You open your mouth, but before you can answer—

“How close?”

Something shifts.

The teasing is gone.

He sees the realization flicker across your face. You notice it now—the difference.

No smirking. No amusement.

Just—

Jealousy.

Your lips twitch.

This is fun.

Your turn now.

“This close,” you murmur, taking a few steps back.

His brows furrow slightly.

“Or this close?”

You step forward again.

His fingers flex. His jaw tightens.

Now he gets it.

Now you’re right in front of him. So close, almost touching.

“Or maybe… this close?”

So close you feel his breath. The way his chest rises. The way his hand twitches at his side.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips. Then back up.

His breath stutters.

Your voice drops, barely above a whisper.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Mingyu moves before he can think.

His hand grips your waist. Your back. Pulling you into him.

His body is so warm. So solid.

And then—

“I doubt you two are this close.” He leans in. Just slightly.

His breath ghosts over your lips, his fingers flexing against your waist.

The cold of the drinks and glasses in your hands presses against his chest, against his stomach—a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. It makes his breath hitch. You can feel it, the bottles and glasses pressing against your breasts, and you wonder what it would have been like if they weren't there.

“You didn’t even think about checking his messages,” he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. And then—lower—right against your ear—

“I have you right where I want you.”

A sharp inhale.

“YAAA!!”

Hoshi’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you break eye contact.

“MY DRINKS!! WHERE ARE MY DRINKS!!”

Mingyu should step back. He should let go.

He watches the way your chest rises. The way your lips part. The way your fingers tremble, just slightly, against his arm. He could end it right here. Close the space. Kiss you senseless.

He wants to. God, he wants to.

But the voices in the living room—too close.

He doesn’t know how it would end. Doesn’t know what you’d do. What he might do. Not when his pulse is this loud, not when you’re looking at him like you already know.

Not now, he thinks.

Because if he moves even an inch closer— He’ll do something stupid.

Right then where you think he would lean in —again

he takes the bottles and glasses from your hands.

Turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Leaving you standing there, heart racing.

Mingyu—smirking to himself.

He chooses restraint. For now.

00:34

Your night plays out like it always does.

Mario Kart on the Switch, followed by rounds of drinking games, laughter bubbling up with every sip, the room alive with energy. It’s become routine—getting tipsy with the guys, letting the evening slip into a blur of noise and warmth. But tonight, something’s different. Your mind isn’t on the game; it’s on him.

Mingyu.

You’re counting down the minutes until this all ends, until you can finally be alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“Okay, last round, Hoshi,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yes! Yes!” Hoshi hurls himself into the couch, already grabbing his drink before the race even starts. Predictably, he loses again.

You don’t even flinch, too distracted by the way Mingyu leans back against the couch, his eyes casually glancing at the screen but his attention fully on you. He’s sitting there, relaxed—his messy hair falling perfectly in a way that makes you want to reach out and fix it, even though you know he’d just mess it up again.

His black t-shirt is slightly stretched from his movement, and as he shifts to grab another drink, you catch a glimpse of the chain hanging loosely around his neck. It glints in the dim light, you gaze down to the sharp line of his jaw to his exposed collarbones.

You try to look away, but every movement he makes seems deliberate, as if he's doing it on purpose.

“PLEASE! LAST ROUND, PLEASE!!” Hoshi’s voice rings out, exaggerated and dramatic, dragging you back into the room. Mingyu chuckles, his lips curling into that effortless smirk.

“Alright, let him have another round,” he says, voice deep and calm, a little too calm, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second.

It’s enough.

Your heart stutters. You’re hyper-aware of everything. He rolls his sleeves up, just slightly, as he takes another drink. The biceps of his arm flex as he lifts his glass, you can see the veins along his forearm. It’s suddenly so warm in here and you can feel the way it pulls you closer even though you haven’t moved an inch.

He doesn't need to try. He just is.

He knows it, too.

“YAAA!! THIS CAN’T BE!!” Hoshi wails, the chaos pulling you out of the moment. His controller crashes to the floor in exaggerated despair.

You sigh, laughing despite yourself, the sound escaping your lips like a small release. For a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been thickening the air all night finally breaks, but it lingers—just out of reach. Your eyes flicker to Mingyu, and in that instant, you catch him. Staring at you. Not just a glance, but a look that lingers.

He’s watching you, watching the way you sit there—knees on the floor, bare legs beneath you. But it’s not just the way you’re sitting, it’s the way his shirt clings to your skin, your posture, your eyes, your lips... everything about you seems to pull him in. His thoughts begin to drift, and before he can stop them, his mind’s running down a path he knows he shouldn’t be on.

No, he thinks. Not again.

He drags a hand over his face and thunks his head back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. He exhales slowly, a forced calm. Focus, Mingyu.

He can’t afford another hard-on tonight. Not with everyone around.

But he knows. You both know it.

It’s going to be a long, torturous night after all. And it isn’t ending anytime soon.

02:46

Hours have slipped by, blurred by laughter and the bitter tang of alcohol on your tongue. The room is warm, dimly lit,—half-empty glasses, crumpled snack bags, the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background.

You’re exhausted, but wired. The kind of tired where everything feels a little too slow, a little too heavy.

A soft snore interrupts your thoughts.

You turn your head. Hoshi, sprawled out across the couch, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world.

You blink. "Well. There he goes."

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh across from you, tilting his head toward the couch. "Took him long enough."

"It’s always him," you mutter, shaking your head.

"It was Wonwoo first."

"Wonwoo doesn’t count. He chooses sleep."

Mingyu grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, his dark, tousled hair—slightly messy from the long night—falls over his forehead, the dim light catches the sharp line of his jaw and suddenly, you’re aware that its just the two of you now. The laughter fades, leaving something quieter in its place.

And then it happens.

That look.

Mingyu leans his head back against the couch, watching you in that way that makes your stomach twist. His gaze is dark, unreadable, and smirking. you feel it—lingering too long on your face, dropping to your lips.

He’s fucking smirking at you.

Like you guys didnt kiss each other just hours ago.

Your breath catches. Heat pools in your stomach, climbs up your spine, wraps around your throat until your face burns. It’s impossible to ignore the way your body reacts to him, impossible not to remember the way he felt pressed against you, the way he almost—

No.

You need to move. You need to do something—anything—to break the tension before it swallows you whole.

So you stand up.

Quickly. Too quickly. You busy yourself with the mess on the table, grabbing empty glasses, snack wrappers—anything to keep your hands occupied, your mind distracted. You can still feel his gaze pressing into you, following your every movement like a weight on your skin. So you just move yourself to the kitchen. Yeah, that damn kitchen.

To escape. To escape him.

But of course, he follows you.

You focus on the counter, setting things down with a little too much force. You reach for an empty glass, then hesitate, frowning. Where does this go again? You open a random cabinet. Wrong one. You try another. Wrong again.

Mingyu leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you struggle. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes your fingers itch to touch.

"Need help?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

You find the right cabinet—finally—but as you reach up to place the glass inside, it slips. Not enough to fall, but enough for Mingyu to react.

He leans in slightly, voice lower now. "You seem a little distracted."

You exhale sharply, setting the glass down before you drop it for real. "I’m fine."

He hums, unconvinced.

Silence settles between you. Mingyu doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. Instead, he watches you—closely. His gaze lingers as you slowly place the glass in the cabinet, like he’s studying every movement, every flicker of hesitation. You feel it—his eyes, the weight of his attention pressing into your skin.

"You’re bad at this, you know," he murmurs.

"At what?"

"At pretending."

Your pulse stumbles.

"I’m not pretending," you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be.

He laughs teasingly, not really believing you.

"You’re also bad at drinking games," he teases, his voice low, laced with something deeper. He leans against the counter, too close. "Honestly surprised you’re still standing."

You roll your eyes, feigning confidence. "It takes a lot to get me down." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin. "I’m not even that drunk, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

He steps closer.

No. Please, no.

You almost whine.

Not again. Not when you’re still weak from earlier. Not when you still feel the ghost of his breath on your skin, the way he nearly kissed you, the way he almost had you.

You swallow hard, nodding—but it’s weak, almost shaky. And he notices.

"So, you weren’t really that drunk yesterday? Was all of that just an act?"

His skin glows under the kitchen light, sweat dampening his forehead, his neck. His lips are pinker than before, and when he tilts his head slightly, your knees almost give in.

“I dont know what you mean- I-" Your voice falters, and you curse yourself for how obvious it is. He's always been able to read you, hasn't he?

He smirks. But he knows it all too well. Without touching you, he moves. His presence alone pulls you backward, guiding your body against the counter. You find yourself pressed against the edge, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn't touch you, but it feels as if he’s controlling every inch of your movement.

Finally, his gaze softens, but the intensity remains. He reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, the touch light but electric, sending a shiver through you. “Your cheeks are giving you away,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. “Mingyu, stop.” you whisper, as you push against his chest, it causes him to step back, just a little. His arm wraps around yours, pulling you right back into him. The movement is fast, and before you can fully react, you’re pressed against him—your chest against his, your breath shallow as you’re forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

He exhales, voice deep, teasing, but his eyes betray him. "Why? you’re not gonna ask me to stay this time? Not gonna ask me to sleep with you?"

"I don’t even remember what I—"

"But I do."

He doesn’t let you go.

He leans in, hand ghosting along your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize it. His warmth seeps into your skin, into your bones, unraveling something inside you.

“You were looking at me like this,” he murmurs, forehead resting lightly against yours. “Exactly like this.”

You can feel every word against your skin. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“Mingyu, I—”

“You held me here.” He traces your hand over his chest, down his abs, his touch slow, deliberate. “You asked me to stay, told me not to leave”, a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers that moment. “Shit, I thought you were fucking with me.”

Your throat goes dry, a tightness spreading through you as his nose brushes against yours.

“You said please,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. He slowly pushes you against the counter.

“Say it again" he whispers, the word coming out like a plea, thick with want, yearning—almost as if he's asking to kiss you.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s barely a sound—more breath than voice—but it carries everything. A plea. A need. Like he’s not just asking for a kiss, but for permission to fall apart in your hands.

Your chest tightens. Your fingers move before your thoughts can catch up, curling around the back of his neck, drawing him in even though you’re already impossibly close.

His breath hitches at the movement, eyes locking with yours. And there, in the quiet space between heartbeats, he knows.

Then he kisses you.

Soft at first. Barely there. It’s slow, careful—his lips brushing yours, like he’s learning the shape of you through every careful pass.

Then again—deeper this time. More sure.

His hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you, steadying you, like he can't pull away even if he wanted to. He hums against your lips, a soft relief, like he's been waiting for this. And he was.

But the moment his mind catches up with the taste of you—he’s lost.

The kiss turns desperate, all softness bleeding into something needier. Like if he stops, even for a second, it might all slip away.

Your hands are everywhere—roaming, exploring. He nudges you gently until your back hits the counter, the edge cool against your spine. Your palms press to the surface behind you, steadying yourself as the bottles shift and clink under your touch.

“Mingyu—”

“No—”,he’s already kissing you again.

Your protest is cut off, swallowed by his mouth, his kiss harder now. Like he’s trying to erase every reason not to.

His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing in, grounding himself in you. His chest brushes yours, heart pounding.

“We should—” he exhales, his voice cracking, his lips barely leaving yours. “We should stop, right?”

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath, brushing against the skin of his stomach. He’s warm, feverish beneath your touch.

“Yeah,” you breathe, lips still brushing his, “they—hmh-they could come in…”

Shit. He knows. He really fucking knows. But he’s too far in. He should stop—he knows that. But how’s he supposed to do that? When you're looking at him like that? He tried to be good. He really did. But with you like this? He’s already too far gone.

“Mmh,” he exhales, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We should stop before...”

But even as he says it, his hands slide down, fingertips grazing your thigh. He looks at you, like he’s checking—like he needs to make sure. And the way you're staring back? He gets his answer.

He lifts your leg onto the counter. The bottles clink next you, sharp and loud in the quiet, like a reminder of where you are but —

“Yes—mmh—we should stop before anyone—”

But then he hums, low and rough, as his hand moves to your chest. Fingers glide up, brushing over your breast, and your breath stutters.

“We should… fuck-” His voice trembles. “Go to sleep.”

He’s trying. God, he’s trying.

But his mind is lost in you. Like he’s clinging to every thread of control he has left.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, breathless. Your hand slides under his shirt again, feeling the way he trembles under your touch.

“I should go to sleep…”, you smile to yourself.

“Yes- We should go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his shirt.

You watch his skin glows golden under the dim lamp, and when he runs a hand through his hair—black strands sticking up in every direction—you almost loose it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but damn.

He takes your hands, places them on his chest, his abs—letting you feel him. And then he kisses you again.

“Shit,” he breathes. “I can’t… I can’t fucking stop.”

You're still on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, even as his hands slide up, cupping your tits, grazing the edge of your bra, his mouth finding your neck.

“Fuck— Mingyu,” you moan, soft but breathless.

“Don’t do that,” he groans. “-Fuck.”

You tug off your shirt, and he just stares for a second.

Out of breath, hair a mess, half-dressed. This—this is what he dreamed about for far too long.

You reach for his belt, pulling him back in.

“We can’t be loud,” you whisper. “Be quiet, Mingyu.”

He smirks like you’ve just dared him. Like being quiet is a challenge.

He kisses you hard, pressing his dick against you—exactly where you want him. You moan into his mouth, hands in his hair, kissing him like this might be the last time. Because maybe it is.

He trails kisses down your neck, then your chest—his mouth warm over your bra, licking and sucking. You feel everything, but it’s not enough. You need more.

“Mingyu, don’t—don’t tease.”

“We can’t be loud, right?” he smirks to himself. You whine in response.

One hand cups your breast while the other runs across his lips, tasting you . You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet every moan that threatens to slip. His hands are so big on you, his mouth so unbelievably good.

You pull him back to your lips, needing to feel him—needing to let those moans escape where only he can hear them.

“More,” you breathe, your hand drifting lower, palming him through his pants.

The alcohol is blurring your filter, but you don’t care. You want him.

Still, he doesn’t give in. Not fully. Not yet.

He kisses you deeper—your lips, your throat—grinding against you like he’s losing control. Like you’re the one driving him insane. He thinks he’s teasing you, but maybe he’s torturing himself just as much.

You dig your nails into his back, kissing along his shoulder. The intimacy of it gives you goosebumps, sets your skin on fire.

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands go to his belt, fingers working it open as your eyes meet his.

“Shit,” he exhales. Mingyu shakes his head “Not here.”

“Not here?” you whisper, almost whining.

His hands find your waist again, sliding lower, between your legs.

His fingers are a little cold, and the touch makes you gasp.

“Mingyu-”

“Spread your legs for me,” he says lowly, never breaking eye contact.

You do.

He moves slowly at first, teasing your clit, eyes locked on every little reaction your face gives away.

Your mouth parts open slightly, breath hitching.

“Hm? That sensitive?” he asks, speeding up just a little.

A soft moan slips from your lips as you grip his arms, trying to steady yourself.

And then his finger slides inside.

Then another.

While his thumb keeps working your clit, making you lose your mind.

“You like seeing my hands between your legs?” he rasps, still watching you.

You can’t even look away—neither of you can.

He kisses you, and you moan right into his mouth.

“You like the way that feels?” he asks. “So wet for me already…”

You try not to, but his names slips out of your mouth.

“Shit. Didn’t we talk about being quiet?”, voice low, watching you all desperate and squirming under his touch.

And you can feel it building—right there, right under his fingers.

“Fuck, yeah. Like this”, he whispers. You’re so close.

His fingers move just right—fast, precise, relentless—and your body can’t take it anymore. It hits you all at once. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as the orgasm rolls through you.

He doesn’t stop until you're done—his fingers slow down, helping you through it, letting you ride it out as your whole body shudders against him.

Then he kisses you—soft, almost sweet, lips warm and slow. You melt into it, dizzy, still catching your breath.

He smiles into the kiss, smug as hell. “You think they heard you?”

You smack his chest, face burning, and he just laughs—loud, unbothered—and gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s nothing.

“Time to sleep,” he says, all casual, like he didn’t just make you fall apart on the kitchen counter.

You’re still dazed, legs weak, not even trying to get up when he picks up your clothes. And just as you’re wondering what now, he lifts you—hands under your thighs and back—carrying you.

You bury your face in his neck, skin still warm, and you can feel him chuckling, chest shaking under your cheek.

He carries you into your room, setting you down on the bed,you lean back on your elbows, chest rising and falling, still hazy from your high—but your eyes are locked on him. The soft light from the hallway hits his skin just right. His abs flex as he moves, still shirtless, just his jeans hanging low on his hips.

You're supposed to be tired. You’re supposed to be done.

But your body says otherwise.

He notices your stare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, almost flustered, but that smirk is back.

“Like you want more. You know I lose control when you do that.”

You lean forward, lips brushing into a small, wicked smile. “Hm, really?”

He curses under his breath.

You shift onto your knees, crawling closer to where he’s standing by the bed, teasing, until you’re eye level with his lips. You watch him closely, deliberately. His eyes darken, flickering down to your mouth.

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters.

“I’m just being like always,” you say, like it’s innocent—but the way you graze your fingers over his belt says otherwise.

He laughs, low and rough. “You’re impossible.”

Then he kisses you, hard, like he’s finally letting go again.

Your hands move lower, reaching for him, cupping him as you finally try to undo his belt. But he gently brushes your hands away, shaking his head.

“Mhh, no,” he says against your lips, voice deep and determined. “I’m not done with you.”

His hand finds your waist, guiding you back down to the bed without breaking the kiss. You sigh into it, helpless under his touch.

Mingyu slips off your bra, he trails kisses down your collarbone, your chest—slow. His mouth lingers on your breasts, lips and tongue teasing. You’re biting back a moan when he lightly sucks on your nipple. His other hand slides lower, down your side, until it reaches your hips. You gasp as his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, watching every flicker of your expression like it’s something he doesn’t want to miss. Like he’s imprinting it in his mind.

Then he kisses lower—over your stomach, your hips your inner thighs. His lips brush every part of you except where you want him most. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and it’s driving you insane.

You breathe in sharply when his mouth finally finds you. His tongue moves in slow, careful circles over your clit, your fingers already tangling in the sheets. He’s gentle at first, like he’s still learning, but his confidence grows fast. And it’s not just skill—it’s the way he pays attention. The way he listens to every sound you make, every breath you take He groans into you, like he needs it just as badly.

You can barely focus. Your thoughts are scattered. All you know is heat. His tongue. That pressure building again, way too fast.

You peek down at him, and the sight almost ruins you. His eyes are half-lidded, completely focused —locked on yours. His brows slightly furrowed like he’s concentrating, feeling you, not just tasting. His grip tightens on your thighs as you move, and he groans against you—fuck, he’s into it.

And in his head? He’s losing it.

This is all he ever wanted.

He’d dreamed about this—too many nights, too many times imagining what you'd sound like, taste like, how you’d fall apart under his mouth. But none of it compares to this—flushed, needy, eyes fluttering, mouth open with every breathy moan. And the way you say his name?

Yeah, he’s gone.

He’s so mad at himself—mad that he waited this long, mad that he let you be so close for so long without touching you like this. But right now? He’s making up for it.

He presses your thighs open wider, groaning at the way you react. His tongue starts to move faster now, rougher, more deliberate. Circling, sucking, teasing. You whimper his name—desperate, breathless—and he loves it. Every moan you try to bite back just makes him go harder.

“Mingyu—fuck—” you breathe, legs trembling under his grip.

And he just hums into you in response, lips curved, like he’s proud of the way you fall apart for him all over again.

He slips a finger inside you, and your back arches, a loud gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. You glance down—his mouth still on you, tongue still moving—and you can see it.

That smug little smile.

You actually want to slap him for it. But God, it feels so good. Too good.

You shove your finger between your lips, biting down hard, because otherwise you'd be moaning his name.

Trying to not wake anyone. But he makes it impossible. His finger curls just right, finding that spot that makes your whole body clench, and then—

A second finger. Thicker. Deeper. You cry out into your arm, hand flying to his hair, gripping hard—more for your sanity than his guidance.

This isn’t what you had in mind when you got drunk last night—but fuck, you’re not complaining.

“Mingyu—I’m going to—”

You can barely get the words out, voice all shaky. He pulls back just a little, breath heavy against your thigh, fingers still pumping into you slow and deep, while looking at you in your eyes.

“Not yet,” he says, voice low, but wrecked. “Just a little longer, please?”

You want to curse at him, cry, beg—but all that comes out is a desperate whine. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut.

You need it.

But he knows that. He wants you right there. He wants to watch you fall apart again—and know it’s him doing it to you.

His fingers speed up, more precise now, like he knows exactly how much you can take. His tongue’s back on you—licking, moaning with you, vibrating against you.

And when he lifts your legs up, resting them on his broad shoulders—you can’t take it anymore.

Your whole body clenches. The heat crashes over you so fast it steals your breath. Your hands still tangled in his hair as he stays with you till wave ends.

He doesn’t let go. He holds you through it, still licking you soft and slow, humming gently like he’s calming you down from a high only he could give.

He smiles to himself, then leans in to kiss you again—slow, deep. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him back. your body’s still buzzing, but God, you're tired.

Eventually, he lets himself drop back onto the bed beside you, one arm flung lazily over his eyes. You're both breathing hard, skin warm and flushed.

“You tired?” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse.

You hum, eyes still closed. “Yes… but no.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to peek at you from under his arm. “What kinda answer is that?”

You giggle softly, brain still foggy. “You?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously drive me insane. I was tense the whole damn day… like some fucking college kid with a crush.”

You smile to yourself. “Oh yeah? You deserved it. You made me wait long enough.”

He lifts his head, resting on his elbows now, eyebrows raised. “I made you wait?Are you kidding? I was trailing after you like a damn dog for months. Everyone saw it. Everyone. Except for— you. They made fun of me. Hoshi even gave me names. He called me a puppy!”

“You didn’t do anything either!” you shoot back. “And it’s not my fault—you’re nice to everyone!”

“Yeah, but…” he pauses, and you can feel something shift in the air between you. You look at him, waiting for ending the sentence.

“I’m only in love with you.”

The words are soft. Steady. No hesitation, no teasing this time. And it hits you. Your heart stutters—you look at him, searching his face, trying to read the truth in his eyes. He meant it. Every word.

Your lips part, but no answer comes. Not yet. Instead, your gaze drops—his chest still rising fast, the muscles of his stomach tense, his jeans still unbuttoned, the bulge beneath his boxers so obvious now.

A slow smile curls on your lips.

“You waited that long?”, drawing the word out, fingers drifting low on his stomach.

He groans, tossing his arm back over his face. “Don’t mock me.”

You lean in. “What did they call you again?” Your hand cups him through his boxers—he’s already hard.

He lets out a long breath through his nose, biting back a curse.

“Stop playing…” he mutters, but it’s weak—he doesn’t really mean it.

Your voice dips lower. “Did Hoshi call you a puppy?”

“Mhm— a puppy in love, he said.”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. He’s hot, thick, and already leaking. He groans—sharp and low.

“Fuck—don’t tease—”

You pull down his jeans and boxers in one slow motion, freeing his cock. He twitches in your hand.

“So much pre-cum…” you say. “Were you really about to cum in your pants, Gyu?”

He laughs at himself, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, yes—almost.”

You bite your lip, your hand moving slow at first, teasing. His breath catches. “Shit—I’m sensitive.”

You watch the way his expression shifts—brows knit together, lips parting, chest rising quicker with every breath.

“Don’t—ahh—your hands…” he groans, voice breaking around the words.

You go a little faster. His hips twitch. A breathless moan slips from his lips and he grabs at the sheets.

“What if I..” You lean in, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. You give a soft lick, just once—just to see.

“Shit— cant you just—” he gasps, jaw clenched tight.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so loud,” you whisper. “What if they hear you like this?”

He lets out a desperate sound, biting down on his fist, like that’ll help.

You smirk, finally taking him into your mouth—slow, deep, with deliberate pressure. His whole body jerks.

He’s trying to hold back. He doesn’t even dare to look at you. Because if he does—if he watches your lips wrapped around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, your head moving slow and steady—he’ll lose it. Completely.

You suck him deeper, your lips wrapped tight, tongue tracing every inch. He’s so responsive, so sensitive, every little flick making him twitch in your mouth. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and the soft, ragged sounds coming from his throat only make you want more.

“Shit—” he gasps, a hand reaching down, not to push you away—but to ground himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding.

You glance up. His head’s tossed back, lips parted.

He tries to hold still. Tries not to fuck up into your mouth. But the way you’re working him—slow, then fast, then slow again—it’s driving him insane.

And then suddenly—

“Wait—fuck, baby—stop.”

You try to understand why he pulled away—lips still parted, his length heavy in your hand—and then you hear it. Footsteps. The faint creak of the bathroom door down the hall. Someone’s awake.

instead of stopping, you stroke him—slow, deliberate—watching his eyes flutter, jaw clench tight.

“Shit, baby…” he whispers, voice tight, “I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna—”

You lean up, cutting him off with a kiss. A soft hush. You don’t want him too loud either. But he’s still so hard, throbbing in your hand, and the way he kisses you back—messy and desperate—tells you how badly he’s struggling.

He sits up slowly, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into his lap like he can’t help it. You settle over him, straddling, still bare, your pussy brushing his cock. The friction makes you both gasp—his tip slides right against your folds, wet and hot and so wrong. So good.

“Fuck—” he groans into your mouth. “Baby, your pussy… it's—shit—it’s right there.”

“I know,” you whisper, lips brushing his. You roll your hips, letting his cock glide through your slick folds, not quite inside, but enough to make him lose his breath. “But we’re not having sex, right?”

His hands squeeze your hips tighter, trying to steady you, but you keep grinding—slow, delicious pressure. His cock slides over your clit just right, making you both shiver.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes.

“But you like it,” you whisper against his jaw, biting it gently.

“Fuck baby, I love it. You feel—mhm—fuck.” He’s unraveling beneath you, hips jerking up once, just barely.

You smirk and keep going. Little circles. Little rocks of your hips. You moan quietly, lips brushing his ear. “What if I came like this? Just from grinding on your cock?”

“Dont fucking talk like that. Shit—”

And then he says it—low, strained, breathless:

“Just the tip?” He meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper. “It wouldn’t count… right?”

The smirk on your lips falters when you feel him shift beneath you. He looks at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. His tone drops lower—deeper, more confident now. “Say yes.”

You nod. That’s all he needs.

He pulls you down—slowly—just enough to push the head of his cock inside. You gasp at the stretch, at how thick he feels, even like this. He holds you there, both of you trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

You whimper, but before you can speak, he moves. He rocks his hips up—just once, shallow, purposeful. Enough to make you cry out and cling to him.

He chuckles, quiet and low. “Told you. Just the tip, and already look at you…”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he loves it.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, guiding your hips slowly, letting you feel all of him without giving you everything. “Look at you. So desperate to be full, huh?”

You nod again, helpless. “Please…”

He tilts your chin up, kissing you softly—then deeper, filthier. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He hums, leaning back to look at you. “Then ask me.”

You swallow hard, but your mouth stays shut, lips parted, breath shallow. You know what he wants to hear— but something in you won’t give it to him that easily. Not yet.

“Hm?” he says softly, eyes narrowing with the hint of a smirk. “No?”

His hands slide down your sides, slow and sure. He shifts his hips under you—just the head of his cock still buried inside, pulsing—and rolls them up ever so slightly. Just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers trailing over your clit in featherlight circles. You jerk forward instinctively, gasping.

“Fuck—Mingyu—”

“Still not asking,” he mutters, almost amused, his voice thick with restraint.

He keeps circling, teasing—soft, slow, maddening. At the same time, he rocks his hips again, just a little, dragging himself barely an inch deeper inside you. Your body clenches down, desperate for more.

You whimper, hands braced on his chest, trying not to completely melt. He’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every shaky breath.

His free hand grips your ass, guiding you into a slow, lazy grind against him. The friction makes your head spin—you can feel the tip of his cock pressing right there, and his fingers still working you, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore.

You try to hold on—but your body betrays you, chasing the rhythm, chasing more. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your pride holds them back just a moment longer.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll keep going like this all night,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like this. Teasing you. Keeping you full, but never enough. Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” you breathe, almost a sob. Your legs are shaking now, your whole body aching.

“Say it,” he whispers. You break. You can’t take it anymore.

“Please—Mingyu—fuck me.”

And the second those words leave your mouth, his expression shifts—something deeper, darker flashes in his eyes.

He grabs your waist with both hands and sinks you down onto him in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping his name, your body going taut.

“There you go,” he breathes, his voice strained, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you take me so well.”

You’re panting, hips rolling instinctively, but he slows you down with a firm grip.

“Not yet,�� he murmurs. “I want to feel you like this. Just… stay here a second.”

You can feel him pulsing inside you, his hands roaming your back, your hips, your thighs like he’s trying to memorize every part of you. He presses kisses to your neck, slow and hot.

Then he starts to move—hips snapping up, controlled, deep. Not rough, but precise. He watches your face the whole time, eyes flicking down to your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside you.

“You feel me right there?” he growls against your ear. “Right where you needed it?”

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, your voice broken.

“Tell me,” he urges, his tone softer now, coaxing. “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“So good—fuck, so deep—Mingyu—”

He kisses you again, grinning into it, just a little cocky now that you’re coming apart in his hands. His pace quickens, your moans slipping free with every thrust, louder, needier.

And then he stills, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Ride me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Let me watch you.”

You bite your lip, breath shaky, but you shift your weight and begin to move—slow at first, dragging your hips in circles, rolling against him. He groans, loud, his head tipping back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you from beneath messy strands of hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Just like that—fuck—look at you.”

You start to bounce, the rhythm building as his hands slide down to your hips, helping, guiding, squeezing. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, filthy and wet and perfect. You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop grinding down onto him—because he’s so deep, and you’re so full, and it’s too much.

You’re close. You can feel it coiling deep in your stomach.

“I—Gyu—I’m—” You don’t even finish. Your body seizes up, every muscle tightening as you cry out his name and fall apart around him, shaking, pulsing, gasping.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers, his voice wrecked. “Cum for me. Right here, right on my cock.”

He’s right there with you—watching you fall apart around him has him unraveling, too. His fingers tighten at your waist, jaw clenched, a desperate groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, I can’t hold it—”

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, still trembling, your voice barely more than a whimper. You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and warm, and the plea in your voice pushes him right over the edge.

With a broken moan of your name, he buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, his face tucked into your neck, breath shaky and warm against your skin.

For a while, neither of you moves. There’s just the sound of your heartbeats, the rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your jaw. Then your lips—soft, lingering. You both smile into it, drunk on the closeness.

As the haze starts to fade, you shift your hips, starting to lift off him gently.

But his arms tighten, holding you in place.

“No,” he murmurs, half-pleading. “I wanna stay inside you a little longer.”

You sink back down with a quiet laugh, and he whimpers.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m still sensitive…”

You smile, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead and kiss the mole on the tip of his nose. He blinks up at you, wide-eyed and flushed—and then he just starts to laugh. His hair is a wreck, his lips still kiss-bruised, and his collarbone is marked where you bit him earlier. But it’s his eyes that undo you—bright and crinkled at the corners.

You laugh too, even if you’re not sure why. “What?” you ask, grinning.

He shakes his head, still smiling like he can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m a fucking puppy in love.”

a/n: it’s done!! finally. i’m so sorry for making you guys wait this long, but i’m actually really happy with how it turned out. i hope you like it just as much as i do ⭑.ᐟ thank you so much for waiting patiently—your comments were seriously the sweetest and so, so kind. ⋆.˚

fun fact about the whole “jealousy” story: this actually started out as a completely different story. i was inspired by that one gif of mingyu at the gym, and had this whole plot in mind… but then i realized it needed some context to make sense, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into this. so yeah, that’s why san’s little cameo feels kinda random 😭 BUT i’m thinking of turning that original idea into a bonus part for this one instead...would you want to read it?? let me know in the comments, in my dms, wherever—i’d love to hear from you!!

love youuuu xoxo ౨ৎ

My cute little 🏷️ taglist:

@wseye @wooahaeivy @dinow13 @httpscoco444 @jihoonsbbygirl @tigersandcherries @souleater440 @gyuldaengie97 @potayaa @mmingooo @ninigyuuu @littlewolfieposts @amingo046 @saturnesposts @starsewl @saltyfriendsaladbandit @imhwajaez @perfectlycleverface @chykyu @gohyemi @baekhyunimochibbh @gh0stprinceess @holyfestfire @id7lso @zimzalaminho @hellosighsophy-blog @my-woozi @sumeyyetuna

Honorable tag: @maplegyu

thank you for enjoying my fic and supporting me! It means a lot!

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bunsiesblog · 6 months ago

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Viktor Relationship HC

Viktor x GN!Reader

Purely self indulgent headcanons for Viktor in a relationship. You want fluff? Here is fluff.

tags: s1!viktor, established relationship, typical domesticity and fluff

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Viktor prefers subtle displays of affection. His intimacy is quiet—a hushed whispered shared between the two of you.

Very public and grand displays of affection tend to leave him embarrassed and flustered. This doesn’t mean he shies away from showing the world he is yours. But he prefers those intimate acts to be shared between the two of you.

That being said—he is a man in love. And he simply can’t help himself when you are near. So he has found a few ways to express his devotion to you:

A gentle bump of the knee under the table as you both sit together.

Interlocked pinkies. A touch so small it might have been missed if not for the faint smile pulling at his lips.

A hidden hand resting on your thigh while he reads or works—absentmindedly tracing circles with his thumb.

A tender touch to the small of your back as he guides you through crowds. Not only to keep you close but to keep him grounded as well.

Quick kiss to your forehead when parting ways. “Take care, lásko.”

Viktor adores holding your hands. Such an innocent and simple act leaves him feeling profoundly connected to you.

He often does it absentmindedly—reaching for your hand when his mind is elsewhere. His thumb traces your knuckles or the faint lines of your palm. He’ll even play with your fingers, as though committing their shape to memory.

Our lovely scientist quite likes the size difference between your two hands. He’ll press his palm flat against yours, marveling at the contrast with a soft smile on his face. “It’s quite unfair that I am so lanky, no?”

When privacy is reliably assured, Viktor rather enjoys spoiling you with affection and being spoiled in return. Here are some favorites of his in no particular order:

Kissing. And not the kind that is full of tongue and saliva (although he can acknowledge certain … situations … where it has its benefit.) He prefers the soft and revert kisses he gives you. The sort of kiss where he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks, and simply embraces you. Like he’d rather be at your lips all day than breathe air.

Viktor also has a pension for kissing you in places that are not just your lips. His kisses are gentle, playful, and unexpectedly intimate. Some of his favorite places to leave them on you are the inside of your wrist, the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck, and the tip of your nose.

He particularly enjoys the way you laugh or squirm when he traces light kisses to your neck and jawline. Viktor will hold your hands to keep you from wiggling away. Despite being quiet by nature, Viktor’s smirk betrays how much he enjoys hearing you laugh. “You want me to stop? But you make such sweet sounds for me, Koťátko. Just one more.”

A quiet night in the lab made him realize just how much he enjoys seeking your warmth and filling in the empty spaces between you. When you’re perched at the edge of his work table, Viktor will instinctively step between your legs and rest his hand on your thighs as he looks up at you. It’s any wonder how he gets any sort of work done when you’re around.

To others, he is a polite but distant man. Constantly consumed by his work and ambition. But with you, he is something else entirely: gentle, tender, and devoted. And it is clear to anyone who knows him just how special you are.

Viktor always gives you his unwavering attention. When you speak, he listens. His whiskey eyes are held steady to your own. Oftentimes, when he thinks you won’t notice, they’ll flick down to your lips. And he’ll rub a thoughtful hand over his jaw, trying his best to hide an amused smile. “Hm? Yes, I’m listening, sweetheart.”

His reserved nature doesn’t lend itself to overt sentimentality. But with you? It shines. There is a tenderness in him that only you can bring out.

Viktor has a weathered notebook he keeps in his coat pocket for when inspiration strikes or he simply can’t put his pen down. However, among the haphazard grocery lists or scribbled equation are notes about you like ‘prefers chamomile tea when anxious’ or ‘smiles when it rains’. Even the margins of his notes are decorated with absentminded doodles of you.

He most definitely is an act of service kind of man. The chain of your necklace is broken? Or your watch won’t tick past 6:33? He’ll silently take it off your hands, fiddle with the repair in the quiet hours of his lab, and leave it for you to be found the next day. Any sort of thanks you try to give him are met with a humble “it was nothing.” Although the blush on his ears tell a different story.

#Arcane #Viktor #Viktor Arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor nation #x reader #arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #bunsie thinks #I think a lot about Viktor #an unhealthy amount

1K notes · View notes

theunsinkableship1 · 29 days ago

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Is the nonchalant man in the room with us?

⚠️Disclaimer: This is a Lukola space. Do not invade, skip if you don't believe. You've been warned.

Oops! She did it again. Every time I want to take a break from Lukola, there’s something new to pull me in. When Nicola briefly liked and then quietly unliked a Bustle post that features a bold quote of Poison Peach on X: “Why would I date a nonchalant man? I like my men how I like my thong”, The post is playful and has a strong underlying message about wanting emotionally expressive, enthusiastic men, men who show up, both physically and emotionally. It's about rejecting passivity or detachment in favor of affection, presence, and devotion. A nonchalant man is someone who appears emotionally detached, indifferent, or unconcerned, especially in situations where warmth, passion, or involvement is expected. He often projects a cool, effortless attitude that can come across as: Unbothered or hard to read, puts low effort in communication or affection, is avoidant of emotional depth or vulnerability, seems distant physically or emotionally. And seems more committed to looking elsewhere. While some people find this “coolness” mysterious or attractive at first, it often becomes frustrating especially for those who crave emotional clarity, initiative, and expressive love. This metaphor isn’t just cheeky, it’s powerful. A thong is tight , it clings. It holds close. There’s no looseness or ambiguity. You don’t wear a thong by accident. It’s a choice usually for a reason, often one that signals confidence, attraction, or intimacy. It’s physically the most intimate undergarment, literally the closest one can get. You feel it. It may not always be visible, but it makes itself known. Thongs aren’t about comfort; they’re about statement, confidence, edge. When someone says, “I like my men how I like my thong,” they’re saying: I don’t want someone nonchalant, half-there, emotionally distant, or cool just for the sake of it. I want someone who’s right up close, fully engaged, impossible to ignore, and confident in their desire for me, someone who chooses intimacy and presence with the same intention I put into choosing a thong. The accompanying images give flesh to the metaphor they’re a visual manifesto of presence, passion, and playful intimacy, showing exactly what it looks like when a man is anything but nonchalant. If that’s the emotional benchmark, if that’s what “not nonchalant” feels like, then anything else however well-behaved or convenient will fall short. There’s a beautiful and meaningful layer to the photos accompanying the tweet when you consider how several of the couples blur the line between collaboration and connection. Some are confirmed couples, others long rumored or playfully ambiguous, but all carry that emotionally charged tension between professional chemistry and personal closeness.Rihanna and A$AP Rocky were longtime friends and collaborators before their romance began. Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco are engaged. They have been in a romantic relationship since June 2023 and have collaborated professionally on several music projects. Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, while not creative collaborators in the traditional sense, embody the fantasy of two public figures from vastly different worlds, Martin Short and Meryl Streep have long been industry icons, and while they’ve an unconfirmed romantic relationship, their recent public appearances, cheek-to-cheek, laughing, physically affectionate have set imaginations on fire. It feels like friendship transcending into something warmer, richer… even if only in the collective heart of the public. These aren’t just images of couples being cute, they’re portraits of comfort, familiarity, and emotional access, often built over time through trust, play, and shared creative space. They embody the antidote to “nonchalant.” They say: We know each other, we’ve worked beside each other, we’ve laughed off-camera and now we’re here, close, warm, and unafraid to show it.

What Nicola may have liked about the quote is its unapologetic clarity: It’s bold, funny, and cuts through emotional ambiguity. For someone who’s often celebrated for her wit, depth, and emotional intelligence, a line like this could feel both empowering and relatable. It also mirrors something she herself embodies intensity, specificity, and emotional immediacy. Nicola has often spoken about valuing depth, chaos, vibrancy, never passivity. A nonchalant partner wouldn’t just bore her; he’d misalign with how she moves through the world. What she may have liked about the photos is how they embody the quote visually. They represent relationships that look like felt connection, not just appearances. Love that’s embodied, visible, unmistakable. Nicola may have seen in these photos a reflection of what she values in love: not performative gestures or perfect images, but proximity, enthusiasm, and undeniable chemistry.

However, the timing and subtext couldn’t be ignored, especially following a wave of criticism aimed at her boyfriend’s detached body language during recent public appearances with her. In this light, the like becomes an indirect clapback, a gentle “don’t reduce my partner to a meme” without actually addressing the issue head-on. Given how sharply some viewers critiqued him pointing out his lack of eye contact, stiff posture, nervousness, disinterested attitude and sunglasses as emotional distance, it’s plausible Nicola felt protective. Liking a post that mocks the “nonchalant man” might be her way of saying:

“He’s not nonchalant. He’s just quiet, composed. And that doesn’t make him less worthy.”

It's public without being confrontational. She may have been trying to reclaim the narrative by subtly shifting the spotlight away from appearance and toward intent.

But that doesn't explain the deletion.

At the same time, Nicola, who is expressive and lively might genuinely crave a more demonstrative kind of affection. A partner who doesn’t just help with her purse or takes photos, but someone who looks at her, connects with her, makes her feel magnetic just by being present. So even as the like could have been a defense, it may also have been a moment of truth slipping through. A quiet acknowledgment that:

“Yes, I need more than quiet support. I want someone who is all in, who burns for me.”

In that context, the like becomes both reassuring and revealing. A contradiction in motion.

This moment may have surfaced because Nicola’s emotional reality doesn’t line up with what we’re seeing. For a Lukolashipper, when Nicola is with Luke, their dynamic is unmatched rich with subtle and effortless synchrony: Mutual eye contact that lingered, natural closeness, intuitive mirroring. Shared laughter and a softness that didn’t need to be declared, it just is. The unforced intimacy of two people completely attuned to each other.

It’s possible Nicola quickly realized the like could be read as a shade toward her partner, implying he is nonchalant, and that she was passively airing dissatisfaction. Or more painfully perhaps she realized it might look like a subtweet, a nostalgic dig at Luke.

But Luke is never nonchalant. In every public interaction, he is: Focused on her, involved, playful, physically present, always showing up emotionally even when the world is watching. That’s one thing that we like about them.

So if that like was intended to throw shade at Luke which I personally don’t believe, it misfired. Because Luke doesn’t fit the mold of the “nonchalant man.” In fact, he might be the very opposite. Thus, the unlike may not have come from second-guessing the message, but from realizing the message didn’t land cleanly. It blurred too many lines, hinted at too many things, maybe even things she wasn’t ready to say out loud.

Who would have thought that a simple like and unlike could carry so much weight? It's all about the context. It could mean nothing or everything. But when a like is followed by an unlike within just a few hours, it's deliberate. The like speaks to a fleeting impulse, a regret perhaps, while the unlike is a quiet correction. Interpreting these actions, we begin to understand the original message and the silent shift in tone, echoing the complexity of what is unsaid between them. It’s a subtle dance, one that’s as much about what’s hidden as it is about what’s revealed.

#lukola #lukolaland

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heedmywarnings · 1 month ago

Note

not sure if you're willing to take a request, so i'l just put this here(you don't have to answer :3)

SAGAU characters reacting to their creator calling them their "favorite" and basically pampering them as if they're their kid. You can do this with any character you like, buttt I would like to see Kaeya and Diluc, mostly because they're my sons and should definitely reconcile trust🙏‼️ And I unfortunately don't see a lot of content of them :(

A Drinking Problem

Part 1 || Part 2 coming never

Aka; Ragbros wanna be bros again. Trauma says no but you say fuck yes

A/N: I love ragbros, man. Did you know I used to main them both and pair them together? It was so fun. Then I lost the account which wasn't fun. @valeriele3 if ya wanna read..

♤|♤|♤

"Many would favor the Pyro Archon..." you mumbled, gently braiding Diluc's hair. "Perhaps, maybe the Iudex of the Court of Fontaine as well as the Fourth harbinger of the Fatui," you continued, tying his hair with a dark blue ribbon. "But you, Diluc, shall be mine," (as a son, you freak) You smiled sweetly, admiring your work with several headpats.

However, once Diluc turned around—his expression couldn't be more somber. He was obviously trying to conceal something. His lips fell into a thin line, his gaze elsewhere. "Diluc? Heeelloooo?" You echoed his name, but only after flicking his head did he finally respond.

"Oh—uhm, your grace. I must apologize... I was distracted," he bowed, embarrassed by his behaviour in your presence. "Nonsense," you shook your head. "Now we have a new topic to discuss," you said enthusiastically, constrasting Diluc's gloom. "What's got you so twisted up, hm? I've been tugging your hair for a while, but you didn't seem to notice!" You pointed out his hair, his beautifully braided hair. You nust give yourself a pat on the back for that work!

Diluc caressed the braid you made, his frown deepening. Noticing this, you panicked. Thankfully you were very calm about this. "Did I—Did I mess up your hair?! I'm sorry! Ah—did I ruin your hair care routine?!" You totally didn't panic. "Your grace! I'm fine, I'm fine!" He reassured with a less panick-y tone, but still very panicked.

"Ehh, alright. Then tell me, why the frown, Diluc?" You tilted your head as Diluc stared at some corner of the room, seemingly hesitant. "It's nothing worth your concern, your grace," he simply said. "After all, I can take care of it myself. Like I always have." His response made you frown. Who wouldn't frown at that?

"You've been Master Diluc at such a young age," you huffed. "No child should bear his burdens alone." Diluc furrowed his brows in unease. "Especially not a child of mine in my presence," you added. "Talk to me, Diluc. Conversation eases the burden of silent suffering, you know. Or if you're still hesitant, at least just..." you opened your arms to him. "Give me a hug?" You invited, to which Diluc silently accepted. Hugging you tighter than both of you expected.

After a while, he pulled away, seemingly ready to talk. "It's Kaeya." He said. "I managed to invite him to dinner one time. It went well, I think," he explained, trying to find the words. "That's good! So uhm—what's the problem?" You engaged, making sure to let Diluc know he is heard. "I don't know if we actually made any progress in..." he trailed off. "Reconciliation." He muttered.

"Your grace, do you... do you know what happened between us when we were younger?" Diluc asked hesitantly. You thought for a moment, but then decided that lying wouldn't do well in this situation. "I do," you replied. Diluc tensed up. "It wasn't your fault, Diluc." You pulled him into another hug. He didn't resist.

"How many can say they became the richest man in Mondstadt even after losing everything?" You asked, rubbing circles on his back. "You were a child, Diluc. Children are stupid, you were stupid." He furrowed his brows. "We were nineteen," he muttered. "Nineteen year old children," you replied.

---

Kaeya was doing well, he thinks.

He had his fair share of conversation with you, being able to show off his tricks and charm. Sometimes he looks down and sees that the void is catching up to him faster than the last time he's seen it. Oh well, nothing like alchohol to try and vacate the absence of everything. Ignorance is bliss after all.

"Diluc is acting odd toda," concluded Kaeya as he downed his fifth cup of Death After Noon. You, who happened to be sitting right next to him with a nice serving of grape juice, asked, "Wha— wh— why do you think that?" You stammered, totally cool. Don't worry he probably didn't notice. He squints but makes no comment of your stutter. "He filled my glass all the way earlier this afternoon," he replied suspiciously. "Does he not—do that?" You arched a brow.

Kaeya shook his head, dismissing the topic with a lighthearted chuckle. "Hey, you shouldn't drink so much," you said. "You're damagung your liver, you know?" You scolded—channeling the spirit of an Asian mother. "Ah, uhm..." Kaeya stammered, caught off guard by your sudden scolding. "Well, I wouldn't quite be here if I hadn't known the consequences that come with it, no?" He reasoned after composing himself. "Haiyah, then what? You think a sick liver is easy to heal? You think that comes cheap?" You berated your drunkard son, shattering his confidence after he just rebuilt it.

Kaeya looks like this rn:

"Your grace..." he whined. "Ugh, come in already," you huffed frustratedly. "Charles, I'm paying for Kaeya's tab, alright?" Suddenly Kaeya lit up as you slammed a bag of mora on the countertop.

"I thought you were trying to intervene with my er—"drinking problem," your grace," Kaeya asked suspiciously. "I am," you replied. "Yes, so why are we at Dawn Winery of all places?" He stared at the mansion he used to live in.

"Because who in Mondstadt—the land of wine—hates alcohol?" You reasoned with a sly grin. "Diona," he replied with a shrug. "Okay fair, but no. The answer is Diluc!" He clapped at your enthusiasm, trying to hide his own anxieties.

"Your grace, I just don't think this would be the right course of action," he replied with a smile. "So what is the right action?" You arched a brow. "Waiting? Stalling? Running away from everything?" You crossed your arms, narrowing your gaze. "Dammit Kaeya, ignoring your problems isn't going to remove them." Kaeya stared at the ground. "Hide all you want, but the more you delay your decisions, the heavier the consequences."

Kaeya furrowed his brows before giving you a lighthearted smile. "Of course," he said. "I will follow you, your grace." You groaned. "Ugh, enough of that," you said. "I want this decision to come from you. Don't get me wrong, Kaeya," you waved your hands. "I'm not forcing you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. But I just want you to see how things are without alcohol influencing you, alright?" You said, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. Kaeya sighed, not seeing the point of hiding any longer.

"This is still about... drinking, right?"

"...No."

---

Diluc was pacing in the living room as Adelinde cleaned the windows panes, subtly looking over to her master every now and then.

"Well, you certainly look at ease, Master Diluc," she finally said, causing said master to sigh. "Kaeya will be joining us for dinner," he replied. Instantly Adelinde felt the panic Diluc was feeling. "Master Kaeya?" She repeated. Diluc nodded.

"Ah, I need to prepare dinner, then! It's been a while since you two dined under the same roof," Adelinde remarked, seemingly overcome with nostalgia. Before Diluc could add more, she rushed off eagerly, either to actually prepare dinner or to spread the news around the winery.

This was a terrible decision, though Diluc as he impatiently lapped around the living room for the umpteenth time. It was your advice, but it was his choice to take that advice. This is all stupid, what if Kaeya decided not to attend? Then he'd just be worrying his head off for nothing! Be serious here, why would he attend after what he did to him years ago? He isn't worth Kaeya's forgiveness. Surely, Kaeya knew that himself. (No he does not.)

Several knocks came to the door in a certain pattern. Two light knocks and one heavy knock. It's a code you both agreed on earlier afternoon to alert Kaeya's arrival. "Come in," he called out after subtly coughing his anxiety away. "Oh good evening, your grace... Kaeya," Diluc greeted. You have him an irritated smile which Kaeya didn't notice. Seriously, who greets their guests like that?!

He coughed again. "Is there anything I can do to help you both?" He kept a calm and friendly tone, which was very hard apparently. "Ah well, it isn't much to worry about—" You jabbed Kaeya's shoulder. "Uh, can you help me with my drinking problem?"

...

Bruh i'm splitting this shit into parts. It's so bad i'm so sorry anon💔💔💔

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #kaeya #diluc #platonic #ragbros

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call-me-mother-darling · 2 months ago

Text

Between The Water and I

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Authors Note: Good morning lovely, I come baring gifts. Hopefully this is up to your standards. Remember feedback is always appreciated! I wanted to make this longer but I couldn't find a way with out veering from the story line.

Plot: Natasha has always been your kryptonite. One night it becomes too much.

Warning: Talks of suicide, death, angst, love confessions, bridges, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, dismemberment, attempted suicide

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1796

Tonight was supposed to be the night I confessed my feelings to Natasha. We have been stuck in this just friends stage for awhile. She’d always look at me differently than the others but I couldn't tell if it was good or not. I have a hard time knowing if it’s friend love or relationship love so there's no way in hell I can tell by her facial expressions. Although I thought I saw her eyes light up when she saw me. But maybe I’m just overthinking this. Tony had told me to just enjoy this after party but how can I do that when it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.

My eyes scan the room praying to get Wanda’s attention but I only see Natasha. As soon as my eye lands on her she has my full attention, even if hers is elsewhere. Her eyes sparkle with joy. The same sparkle I thought she looked at me with. A look of longing. She was with her friend of 10 years, Bruce. She always looked at him like he was the only thing in the world. You’d be dumb not to know she loves him more than a friend. But there was still this small piece of hope in my heart that maybe just maybe I'd be the one to get the girl.

My chest feels like it's about to cave in. The tears threaten to roll down my cheeks. Practically burning my irises. I have been in love with Natasha for as long as I can remember. Even when I made it big she never batted an eye at me. I tried to improve just so she could be proud of me. But the praise never came. I just wanted her to see me.

I feel like I'm suffocating. My necklace is too tight, my dress is too tight, my feet hurt, I need to leave. I can’t do this, it hurts too much. I claw at my necklace stumbling to the bathroom. I practically fall through the door straight to the sinks. Maybe cold water will help. I stand at the sink trying to get the tears to stop, my nails attempting to dig into the sink. As I reach for the faucet a gentle hand lays on my shoulder.

“Y/n? Hey, hey I’m here” Wanda says sweetly guiding me into her arms.

“Why can’t it be me Wanda” I sob.

Wanda hums a soft melody and rubs my back trying to get me to calm down.

I sob so hard. I start to hyperventilate.

No.

I can’t breathe.

“Wanda help me, Please. I can’t breathe.” I wheeze out.

A look of panic takes over her face as she leads us to the ground, putting my hand right on her sternum. She takes deep breaths while her fingers massage the back of my neck lightly.

The body will subconsciously follow the breathing pattern of the one you’re with while in high panic and anxiety inducing situations.

“Love you’re on earth, you are loved, I'm right here.” Wanda comforts me.

Being able to teleport myself sometimes causes me to panic. A few times I have unknowingly teleported back to my planet when I am having a breakdown. That’s what my power is. I can teleport pretty much anywhere in the world. But when my emotions are too chaotic I go back to the place that caused me the most pain, where I was tortured. This place is my planet, it is full of death and destruction. It is not something I want to go back to.

“Can you take me to my room?” I hesitantly ask, not wanting to further ruin her night.

“My legs are too shaky there's no way I could make it up there by myself” I over share. There's no use in trying to pretend I'm okay around her. She’s my best friend and can read minds. She practically already knew what I was going to say. So she takes me to my room, staying to help me calm down and fall asleep and then she leaves to join the party again. Leaving a little note that wrote

Hey love, I’m back at the party but I left my ringer on. If you need anything and I mean ANYTHING just text me and I will be right there. Love, Your bestie, Wanda

A small chuckle comes from my lips. She's so dorky.

A few hours ago I sat at an award ceremony earning an award and now I sit in the darkness of my room. All I can think about is how happy she looked. My heart felt heavy even if I was happy for her. She deserves to be happy. But what about me? Why can’t I be happy? Why can’t someone love me for who I am? Not even somebody why can't she love me?

It’s now 3am and I can’t stop my breakdown. My chest heaves and my tears feel hot. Panic sets over my heart and I rip my door open, basically running outside. The rain drums into my body. The heavy rainfall pounds into the ground making it almost deafening to hear myself think.

I need to get out.

I need to get out, now.

I pull my hood over my head, hiding my face. How the paparazzi didn’t see me, I have no idea. But I let my feet carry my numb body down the street as my vision blurs. Until the pain in my legs is almost unbearable. I raise my head to realize I ended up at the spot I promised Wanda and Nat I'd never go alone to. The bridge I jumped off of a few years back.

October 21st 2020 is when I last attempted. I had stood on this ledge for thirty minutes just praying to my gods that someone would call and talk me out of it. Selfish on my part but I just wanted someone to see me, to hear me. I had set my phone on the ledge and took the step forward regretting it almost immediately. I tried to step back. I fucking tried but it was too late. My body hit the water hard. The water was as cold as ice and shallow. My knee had hit a big sharp rock upon impact tearing my right leg apart. I blacked out. I floated to the shore and my calf was never to be seen again.

That’s where Wanda found me. I was unconscious and barely breathing. She took me back to Avengers tower. They had to do an eight hour surgery to repair what's left of my leg. But I have this really cool prosthetic now. Sometimes my leg gets sore so I have to stay in. Tonight was one of those nights but I couldn’t handle being inside any longer so I took the risk and went for a walk to the bridge.

Before my brain can even catch up I hoist myself up and sit on the ledge. It was about three feet wide and made out of a strong stone. I wasn’t there to jump, I just needed to get some fresh air and enjoy the night sky. Even if this was where I last attempted. I almost find comfort in the fact that it didn’t work. But what is comfort without love? I have friends to live for, maybe even the chance that Natasha would fall in love with me the way I love her. But what if it doesn’t? How do I move on when the one I want doesn’t love me back?

“Hey you okay, little dove?” I furrow my eyebrows and look at the person who pulled me out of my thoughts.

It was her. The person I was so in love with. The person I longed for so deeply, so intensely. With hair glued to her face and a light shiver running through her.

I look down at the river below. I wondered how it would feel to have the cold water surround my body.

“You don’t have to be here. I’m not going to jump, I know they sent you out here to stop me but I’m not going to do it.” I nervously explained. She doesn’t answer and walks behind me to wrap her arms around my waist making me melt into her embrace.

“Little dove?” I finally questioned her. She’s never called me that before.

She smiles and I can feel her nod against me.

“It matches you.” She said.

“How so?” I tilt my head to the side in question.

“If you get down I will tell you.” She stepped away and offered her hand. I took it and slowly slid into her arms feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Her hugs always did that. She pulled me tight against her body and rubbed my back. My fingers grip the back of her jacket and I cry into her neck.

“Doves are beautiful and so pure. Much like you, everything they do means something and you do the same thing. You pick missions that help show your pain. It lets you scream and get out all your frustration. It lets you pretend to be a different kind of hero. To be another person. But I see you. You are an amazing person, my love” She said, her voice being light and sweet.

I quickly pull back and stare at her.

“You don’t mean that.” I say.

“Yes my love, I do. I know I’m bad at showing my feelings because of the Red Room but you are always someone I have looked up to. I almost envy your ability to feel so deeply. I love everything about you and that scares me to death. But you are the one I’ve always wanted.” She says as I feel my eyes start to tear up.

She continues “ I want you, I’m so sorry if my actions show otherwise. I know life is devastating but selfishly please don’t ever try and take your life. I need you here. Wanda needs you here. We all do. You're our family.” She practically begs me.

I throw myself further into her arms sobbing into her neck.

“Doves also means love and I love you” she said.

Another sob escaped my lips and I hugged her tighter.

“I love you” I cry.

She holds me tight. As if her arms will protect me from the outside world.

Alas I’m home.

“Now let's go back to the tower, it’s freezing out here.” She chuckles softly.

I can’t help but follow her actions and chuckle with her.

Maybe I will get my happy ending.

Maybe my secret will stay between the water and I.

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic idea #natasha romanoff x reader #angst #writing #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #love confessions #lesbian

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akutasoda · 2 years ago

Text

don't say anything else just stay

genshin ver part 2 [part 1 here]

synopsis - after a heated argument, maybe a resolve is found in a comfortable embrace

includes - diluc, xiao, kazuha, tighnari, freminet, dottore

warnings - gn!reader, angst to comfort/mild comfort, arguing, some characters are kind of scummy, maybe ooc for some, dottore, minor alcohol mention, wc - 2k

a/n: kept thinking about this and finally after ages i wrote it!

diluc ragnvindr ★↷

diluc, on the outside, was seen as the rather perfect lover. someone you could easily take home to parents and they would be so impressed, someone who is a classic romantic always aiming to sweep you off your feet.

and while he could be like that sometimes, some rare moments that only and very few knew off made you scoff at any comments about how perfect of a lover he must be. afterall, arguments always tore holes in relationships if not dealt with properly.

normally diluc was attentive and was very good with arguments. you two normally wouldn't worry about them. but sometimes his work life balanced suffered and he brought home all anger he held and unleashed it on you.

this was when problems arised as you both knew he shouldn't do that to you. so when the argument reached a rather harsh point you took the situation into your own hands and left dawn winery. you would return to your residence until diluc calmed down and would properly talk to you.

he stewed in his anger for much longer than he preferred and when he started to calm down he went looking for you. he assumed you would still be in the manor, just elsewhere. but he couldn't find you. and his heart absolutely sunk when adeline informed him you had left ages ago.

he cursed himself for being so reckless and he no longer cared about anything else and knew he had to try and sort things out - hoping you would give him such an opportunity.

when you saw diluc on your doorstep you still had half a mind to ignore him but you knew that would get you nowhere and you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss him. and as soon as you opened the door you could see the noticeable lift in his eyes upon seeing you again.

the silence was quickly swamped with diluc's profuse apologies and regrets. and while he was rambling away you found yourself compelled to crawl into his arms. and so you did. and as soon as you hugged him, and he hugged back immediately shutting up. he basked in the moment as told himself he would never do something like this again as he would be dammed that he should ever lose you.

adeptus xiao ★↷

anyone that ever knew the adepti would know he never understood feelings. in fact one could take a guess from looks alone and assume that he struggles with emotional intelligence. and going into a relationship you were well aware of this and thought you would never mind.

and for the most part you didn't. because after the first major argument you two had he quickly learned that if he wanted to keep what you two had he would have to try and learn. try and learn human emotions. which he very quickly did, while he didn't express them he became surprisingly good at reading yours in particular.

but that didn't mean petty arguments still arose. petty arguments that sometimes would push you over the edge. as sometimes it felt as if you were the only one fighting for this relationship.

sometimes seeing xiao arrive home with scratches and such worried you. while you knew that it was minor and probably did nothing - it did make your mind over exaggerate other scenarios. and when you expressed your concerns, he would brush you off.

and eventually he started arguing back, saying harsh comments that he didn't mean but that didn't stop him from saying them. you were rather shocked it got to this so you left. and the minute you disappeared from his line of vision he panicked.

he realised his mistakes. and he knew he would have to own up to them. he was rarely used to people truly caring for him and when they did he lost them. and so he immediately set out to find you and when he did you were still fuming but to him, atleast you were safe.

he tried to apologize but he struggled deeply to find the right words to express how he truly felt. but seeing him try made you calm down - you knew he was trying his hardest. and you calmed down enough to head back with him and try talk it over properly again.

kaedehara kazuha ★↷

arguments were a rare occurrence with kazuha. he was very rational when it came to it but also did try and avoid getting to the point of an argument with you. but he knew some where unavoidable and that's why he would want to solve them as quick as possible.

most arguments did stem from mistakes. more commonly kazuha being swayed into drinking quite a bit with beidou. now she ment no harm by getting him to enjoy himself with the crew, but in that state he did start saying things he never meant.

so when you were trying to get him to bed as everyone else on the crux had retired for that night, he proved to be rather difficult. so much so that he started hurling insults your way. you knew he meant nothing by it but it still hurt.

and eventually you needed a minute or two to yourself. a few minutes turned into a couple of hours as you decided maybe he needed some space and eventually you drifted to sleep in the spare room on the crux that beidou originally gave you.

waking up the next morning, kazuha had a rather annoying headache but immediately noticed you weren't beside him. and then everything came flooding back to him and guilt consumed him whole. stepping out his room he realised how early it actually was so decided to look for you as silently as possible.

and when he found you in the spare room the guilt seemed to increase. he didn't want to wake you but he wanted to apologize. so he settled for sliding into bed next to you before apologizing even if you couldn't hear as he wrapped his arms around you. this way when you woke, he could sort it out with you.

tighnari ★↷

some may call tighnari stubborn and in retaliation he would just say he was dedicated to his work. and both of those were true. you were well aware that his work often stressed him out and he became very stubborn. and rightfully you didn't like it when he brought it home.

especially after you had a difficult day. wanting to see your boyfriend after a long day just to find him taking his anger out on you for a simple question. you only asked him a simple 'how was your day?' and it seemed as though he hated you.

and so you started retaliating his behaviour in the same way. forming a rather difficult argument. so much so that tighnari said a particularly harsh comment before storming out of your shared residence. you practically scoffed before deciding you had enough and wanted just to go to bed.

tighnari hardly got far before the argument registered in his mind. his ears flattening against his head as he felt regret. but another issue was that he wasn't that great with emotions, so he silently feared that he would make it worse should he do the right thing and turn back to apologize.

but he knew that should he let it last, it would only break the relationship more. so he turned and headed back to apologize. and when he arrived he caught you heading to bed. but it appeared you had no intentions on sleeping with him. and this made his ears and tail sink even further.

and before he knew it apology after apology spilt from his lips. you stared at him and you could feel him pull at your heart strings but you knew should he not learn, this would be a recurring problem. so you gave him a hug and returned to the couch. and he understood.

you two would talk it over in the morning but tighnari barely slept as your missing presence really disturbed his sleep. so much so that in the middle of the night he managed to settle next to you on the couch and almost immediately fell asleep.

freminet ★↷

to many people, they knew freminet was rarely expressive. and even from a distance it didn't take much to figure out that he struggled to express emotions. you knew this going into the relationship and you knew you would have to be patient with him.

but seemingly because of your relationship, he did make an effort to try and get better at expressing emotions. after all communication in different ways is very important. so he knew that this would be a weak point in the relationship but so did you.

and you always told him that he didn't have to try and learn as you couls help him figure it out along the way. but that being said, arguments were very rare. and when they occured they were very different to other arguments.

whenever an argument happened they were always ovee small insignificant reasons. and each time freminet went into this isolated state. he blocked out everything around him and ignored you, secretly hoping the issue went away but this time all it achieved was you going away.

you couldn't help but feel slightly bad for leaving so abruptly but you truly did need time to calm down. and if anything him ignoring you was worse than him arguing back. but freminet had panicked when you left and immediately wanted to find you and apologize.

and you barely heard him until you felt his arms wrap around your midsection as he apologized. and you knew how hard he was trying so you awkwardly shuffled in his grip to return the embrace. you two stayed like taht a little while longer as then you two could properly talk it over.

dottore ★↷

dottore was quite honestly far from being the perfect lover. and to many from the outside they would fear for the people daring enough to be in a relationship with him. but you knew differently. sure he had a very different way of showing affection but maybe you preferred it that way.

and he was a rather rational man - more so when it came to you. so arguments were rare and often dealt with swiftly. but for all the knowledge he had he was very inexperienced in emotional intelligence. so often could be stubborn or dissmissive of your feelings.

a common argument for you two was his work. not so much the fatui part, but the fact that he would most of the time choose to spend all his time in the lab for days on end without speaking to you. rightfully, this made you mad and for a while his segments did dampen this.

but you wanted to see your actual lover not his clones. and eventually he kept needing more and more in the lab. so you decided that if he wasn't going to acknowledge you, you weren't going to acknowledge him. so from the minute you next saw him, you ignored him.

he had little time for your antics. his experiment didn't go anywhere near how he wanted it to go and he did want to see you but now you were ignoring him. ao his already thin patience ram thinner and he eventually made the snide comment about your so called 'childish' behaviour. and eventually an argument ensued.

you had enough of him and left. atleast his segments had more emotional sense than he did. and it was one if the older segments that convinced him to apologize to you. so when he saught you out and found you he immediately dissmissed any segments you found company with.

you still ignored him up until you heard him apologize. you had half a mind to tease him but you knew how hard he struggled with stuff like this so you let him continue. he rambled on and on about how he promised he wouldn't do it again and how sorry he was. and eventually, very reluctantly, he opened his arms as if asking for a hug.

and you felt compelled to agree. you stayed in his embrace as he made his final promise. he soon came to realise actually how much you meant to him and you better believe him that he would do anything to keep you happy with him.

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katuschka · 3 months ago

Text

Draw the Line

f!OC x Josh Kiszka x m!OC 13.200 words

Summary: Jo and her husband Lucas own an art studio where Jo teaches drawing lessons. As one of her students becomes a model one day by a "lucky" chance, he soon manages to have them both wrapped around his finger (unintentionally, f'course). The situation escalates quickly when they confess about being attracted to him, respectively.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): This is filth, ok? FILTH! Including: voyeurism, seduction, kissing, licking, fingering, rimming, booze, threesome, sex, oral sex, anal sex, light choking, light dom play, overstimulation, throatfuck, gagging, face-sitting, expressive language, open-ish marriage, polyamory

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Oh, you're such a pretty one And the naked thrills of flesh and skin Would tease me through the night Liquido, Narcotic

Ever since you can barely walk, there are people who think it’s due or even necessary to ask that one stupid question: What do you wanna be when you grow up.

It’s quite funny, because some people can reach middle age without having figured it out! Yet there’s always this one grandpa, or aunt, or someone else’s mom who thinks they have the right to know your answer before you even reach the age to even care.

Not me. I cared quite early on. However, my answer never satisfied anyone. Ever since I could barely hold a crayon, I wanted to be a famous painter. Famous because in my childish mind I cherished the thought that fame also meant money, and thus wouldn’t have to do anything else.

The imaginative worlds created by visual artists always fascinated me and I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to dedicate my life to it. ‘But that’s a hobby, Jo, not a profession,’ they all said. Some of them went as far as calling me a stupid girl, which became much more common as the years went by.

I can be quite stubborn when it comes to my life choices. Sometimes it’s a weakness, other times I profit from it, depending on the situation. It proved to be a blessing exactly twice.

The first time was when I met Lucas and I simply decided that he would be mine, even though I’ve always thought that he’s completely out of my league. He’s perfect. Toned and strong, but not too much, with overlong eyelashes and thick dark shiny hair that many a woman would die for, including me. He wears it in a high bun with an undercut, sometimes switching to a french braid when he wants to get me extra wet, because it makes him look like Ragnar.

But more importantly, he’s kind, loving, (com)passionate and supportive. And that brings me to the second time I tried to get what I wanted, and went for it, headlong! No, I did not become a famous painter, but running an art studio where I teach drawing lessons is not that bad either. Definitely better than some boring office job. So, against all odds and with a bit of luck, I’m living the life I truly enjoy. Needless to say, it wouldn’t be possible without Lucas, his support and help. I’m the creative driving force and he’s the brain, taking care of “business”.

He had helped me create a place that truly felt like a second home. I’m confident enough to say that it’s a cool artistic haven, bohemian in style, but well-equipped. Lucas understands my chaotic mind, always willing and able to put my visions and ideas into practice in an orderly, yet original way. I wanted my art studio to look like a tearoom, and he made it work.

You see, my husband is a true bringer of light. At least as far as my life goes.

Well, despite all that, having everything doesn’t necessarily mean that you never want more. I’m not talking about money or ambition, but rather about simple joys of life and that insatiable yearning to try something new. I still had secret dreams and fantasies; some of which came true. However, certain wishes should remain locked in the safe and sacred space of your own head.

My most secret fantasy materialized in the form of one loud and vivacious pixie man.

He was attending my figure drawing classes. I never really understood why, because he just couldn’t stand still and focus on the task in front of him. Instead, he roamed around the room, discussing other people’s progress animatedly and with sincere interest. Everyone loved him, because he managed to turn each session into a pagan sermon praising human creativity. While hardly ever finishing his own drawing, he assisted me in bringing out the best in other people.

Did I mention he was also cute as a button? No? Well, let me tell you, there were times when I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He possesses this special kind of handsomeness that’s not always noticeable at first sight because he doesn’t flaunt it, but once you really look at him, you just can’t unsee it. A little effeminate, but with some undeniably masculine features. His face is asymmetric, and yet the proportions are just right. He has an almost boyish body, but so well toned it makes him look powerful. No, actually, I think it is his strong personality that makes him look powerful.

Long story short, Josh invaded my mind with impudence and made himself at home there. That means the thoughts he helped paint inside my head were definitely not innocent.

But that’s where I drew the line.

Don’t get me wrong. There were no complicated feelings involved. Josh was like fragrant, spicy wine that I wished to taste, but did not necessarily crave.

I enjoyed his company during my lessons and always looked forward to seeing him again. My fantasies and secret, made up scenarios took us a bit further – to more dangerous places – but they were my and my only.

Private fantasies. Locked up worlds to which only you have the key. Not even Lucas can infiltrate these. He has his own, anyway.

We both know this. It’s refreshing to be able to talk about it without the fear of hurting the other. We even discussed the concept of an open marriage a few times, and even though the opportunity never presented itself, we never ruled it out as a possibility in the future.

For a long time, we were just dreamers.

Nevertheless, the Universe works in mysterious ways sometimes.

One course usually consists of ten weekly classes, and the one I mentioned – the one Josh was attending, that is – was nearing the end. I needed promotional pictures for my socials and Lucas once again volunteered to take them. He’s no professional photographer, but still pretty good, being able to catch the genuine atmosphere of my courses.

Sadly, it was also one of those days when everything that could possibly go wrong, indeed does go wrong. My personal struggles that day culminated when my model cancelled at the very last moment and without explanation. The lesson was already paid for and everyone was waiting by their respective easels.

Normally, I would probably just call it off and return the money, but this was the last session before Christmas, there was not time to schedule a substitute class, we had agreed on doing a series of quick sketches and I desperately needed those in-class photos to promote exactly that because new courses starting January were supposed to focus on croquis drawing for designers.

See, my courses are not intended only for enthusiastic amateurs; I offer help and consultation also to many aspiring and ambitious artists and designers who feel like school classes are not enough. That’s why it’s necessary to have a good model.

Anna had proven to be unreliable in the past, but the people attending my classes loved her for her naturally looking yet challenging poses. Models are almost like actors. Or mimes. It’s hard work, extremely boring on Monday and then suddenly physically challenging on Tuesday… I guess I couldn’t really blame her. And yet I blamed her.

For a moment, I considered doing it myself, but I also had to instruct and advise my students, AND it was also essential for me to be portrayed in Lucas’s photos in precisely this role.

I’m able to keep my cool in most situations. However, the stressful day had taken its toll, Lucas had not yet arrived to give me at least some emotional support and I simply lost it in front of everyone, groaning in frustration and kicking the stool in the middle of the room where my model was already supposed to sit and which was now empty.

“Fucking bitch!”

I regretted it immediately. Very unprofessional. However, several people laughed and Laura, a sweet (and slightly roguish) sixty year old lady who attended almost all my courses including landscape painting, chimed in with “hear, hear”.

I didn’t laugh though. I felt tired and miserable, and it probably showed. Tilting my head back and searching for some answers on the ceiling (Blank spaces inspire me, so what!), I didn’t even notice him approaching me until I felt his light touch on my shoulder.

“Hey, Jo, I can do that.” He sounded almost bashful… which was pretty unusual, if you ask me. His cheeky grin when I finally looked at him spoke a different language though. I knew who Josh was, and what he did for a living. I knew he loved to be the center of attention. And yet…

Artistic models are often deliberately anonymous people. They cherish their privacy and like to remain unrecognized, especially when they pose for nudes. It’s understandable, because for many, it’s not their main source of income. Another good thing about Anna was that she didn’t mind being featured on my website and social media. So that’s another reason why the situation sucked.

“Seriously? You’d do that?” I asked incredulously, crossing my arms. “Do you realize you’d have to strip to your underwear…?”

“Yeah, about that…,” Josh scratched the scalp at the nape of his neck and giggled.

“What?”

I didn’t really need to ask, though, because I think we all already suspected it. And sure enough, the cheeky Laura made herself heard once again.

“I think he’s not wearing any, Jo! Am I right, Joshy boy?” Standing there with her large cup of latte like the queen she was, she pulled her glasses down and winked at him playfully.

Josh blushed and bit his lip, but remained determined to save the day. “Damn right, Lor!” he practically screeched and then giggled again. While I would have been willing to let him pose for us in just his briefs, I couldn’t possibly allow this. He might be a bit reckless, but I am not. Getting into trouble with his manager was not worth it.

The possibility of seeing him totally naked was, on the other hand, DEFINITELY worth it, but still not enough to make my brain shut down completely.

“I can’t let you do that, Josh. Do you realize my husband is coming to take photographs of this lesson? And I’m planning to use them online!”

He still seemed completely unfazed, making a long face as well as some other animated gestures with his truly beautiful hands, and it was starting to get on my nerves, honestly. “And? People have already seen all of me anyway… well, um, maybe all the parts except lil’ Joshito, but even that’s a bit… debatable.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, but the nickname almost made me choke on the oxygen I just inhaled. He was still so nonchalant about it. With his hands in his pockets, he was swaying slightly back and forth, while still waiting for my response. It was a true match of stubbornness, with the two of us standing in the middle of the room, and neither willing to give up. He kept wiggling his eyebrows at me, and I kept chewing my lower lip.

“Seriously, Jo. It’s gonna be fine! And honestly, what other option do you have? Well, of course, unless the others are against my idea…” To my dismay, Josh was very good at persuading people to do whatever he wanted. It comes with the profession, I suppose. When he failed with me, that little weasel naturally turned to others for help. And he was successful. Those traitors all cheered and kept nodding in his favor, so I finally gave in, albeit reluctantly.

“Fiiine,” I sighed and put on the most careworn face I could muster. “But see how miserable you make me feel?” There was still more on my mind – and tongue – but the sudden kiss on my cheek rendered me speechless. Bold! Before I could recover, he was already shirtless and taking off his shoes… which immediately felt like a final, fatal blow.

To say that I did not expect such a sight would be a lie. If I told you I had never watched any of his videos on Youtube or TikTok, my nose would grow like Pinocchio’s. Josh is like one of those friendzoned good guys from movies that transform into objects of desire when you’re least expecting it. Not that I did not suspect him to look fine under his bleached long sleeves and beige hoodies, but what used to be a very abstract subject of my daydreams now became a tough reality that had me on a chokehold in no time.

Thank god I was not the only one and god bless Laura once again for her insolent remarks that brought me back to reality and prevented me from staring at those flexing arms while he was unlacing his sneakers. I recovered quickly, reminding him we had a changing room for that, with bathrobes he could use.

Josh dismissed that with one flick of a hand and proceeded to unbutton his fly. I think my head started spinning even before he actually slid the khaki fabric down his precious buttocks. I have seen my fair share of male asses and dicks – and not just in bed, obviously – but there’s a strange novelty in it when it’s someone you actually want to see naked, which I’m sure you understand. I went to check on my emergency supply of charcoal and kneaded erasers that were placed on another stool nearby. There I secretly counted to ten before I took his neatly folded clothes to put them away.

He was sitting cross legged on the stool when I got back, grinning and tapping fingers on his knee. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Right…well,” I cleared my throat. “You’re supposed to change the pose every fifteen minutes… don’t worry, I’ll set the timer. It could be theatrical or completely relaxed, doesn’t really matter. Just make sure it’s different every time. AND be mindful of the fact that you’re supposed to hold the pose! No fidgeting.” Knowing Josh, I stressed the last piece of information and he nodded enthusiastically to convince me he understood. It didn’t convince me at all. “We already lost some time, so there will be nine poses max.”

“Got it, boss. So how about this?” He stood up and struck a mighty pose with his hands on his hips, chin up and chest sticking out proudly. He looked like Napoleon before bedtime and I couldn’t prevent my eyes from rolling.

“Yeah, whatever suits you… So everyone, let’s get to work!”

As I had expected, it proved to be an almost impossible task for Josh to keep still, and after a short while, he started talking to keep himself from moving. I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t interrupting me in my own attempts to consult other people’s progress as I walked around the room, checking their sketches.

We finally agreed on putting on some music during his next pose, which was that of the thinker a la Rodin. Not gonna lie, I was glad he got back in a sitting position. At least for a while.

My relief was short-lived.

As the timer chimed for the second time, Josh stretched his back, pulled his arms up and my breath hitched in my throat at the sight. I thought and hoped he was just making himself comfortable, relieving his tense muscles, but he decided to remain in the position. He just bent the right arm, grabbed his left elbow with his right hand, rested his head against his right bicep and closed his eyes. Obviously, that was the next pose and everyone got back to work, quickly switching their papers once again.

I stood there mesmerised, watching his heaving chest and being intrigued by his pouty lips, when a familiar voice on my right almost made me jump. I hadn’t noticed him coming in.

“Who’s that?” Lucas asked in a low voice so as not to disturb anyone. He stroked my back gently, but his eyes were fixed on Josh, his expression one of wonder.

“That’s Josh…,” I replied – almost absentmindedly – as if that somehow explained the situation, but Lucas’s amused “ok…?” pulled me fully back into reality. Lucas was often present at my lessons – usually doing some boring but necessary work in the adjacent office – but never before during figure drawing, because it collided with his workout plans.

“Yeah...uh…Sorry. He attends this course. Anna screwed me again and Josh volunteered to substitute for her today.” I looked sideways at Lucas to see him still watching Josh with a furrowed brow. I was a bit anxious that he had noticed my restlessness, but Lucas seemed lost in his own thoughts.

“He seems familiar,” my husband mumbled after a while.

“Yeah, I think you know him. Greta Van Fleet.” I never listened to that kind of music, but Lucas did, and Josh’s band was featured on some of his favorite playlists. I think he had even subscribed to their channel, but in Lucas’s case, that doesn’t mean much. I expected him to respond with “oh, cool,” or something like that, but he just kept staring at the dainty figure in the middle of the room that still seemed oblivious to his arrival. Just like I had been, thanks to the music. Laura finally noticed him too, and waved hello, breaking the strange spell we were both seemingly under.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Lucas whispered after he saluted the old lady. I knew what he meant, so I also knew his mind returned back to business.

“No, but he insisted, and there were no other options. Just please, try to keep it all waist up and… I dunno, blurry,” I added with a telling, pained look. He squeezed my shoulder in silent response just when the timer chimed again, making Josh open his eyes at last. He immediately looked our way and his whole body jerked as if he got burned. It was followed by a shy smile.

“Hey! I… um, got lost in thoughts a bit… I think, uh… I love this song, ya know, anyway… forgot to think about the next pose...” He got back to his incessant babbling, but it was different this time. He looked almost embarrassed as he crossed his legs again and started playing with his curls absentmindedly.

I tried to introduce him to my husband, which in the end made the whole situation even more awkward because it wasn’t exactly one of those moments when guys just shake hands, if you know what I mean. Moreover, I knew about Josh’s preferences and my husband is a handsome man. I’m sure those pretty cheeks didn’t suddenly turn so rosy only because of the heating.

But as I already said, I can always count on Lucas, and this was no exception. He remained very casual about it and proceeded to take the camera off the bag matter-of-factly. “I’m only here to take some pics, so everyone please ignore me and just keep doing what you’ve been doing, which, as I can see, you’ve been doing great so far.” He addressed everyone in the room with a pearly smile, making it known and clear that it was a perfectly normal situation for everyone involved. I made a mental note to thank him for it later.

The rest of the evening went on smoothly. After two more poses, Josh stood up again, seemingly at ease once more. He was a natural after all, and in the end, everyone told him so. Laura went as far as to suggest that he should do that more often. Of course she was going to attend the next course and I suspected the main reason was not him just being a good model. I couldn’t help but agree though. After the slightly shaky start, his behavior turned completely professional and his poses were perfect, allowing my students to explore all essential aspects of human anatomy and movement. Not to mention that good male models are hard to find.

“You know, I think she’s right,” I chimed in half-jokingly, but he took my offer very seriously.

“I had a great time, to tell you the truth, and I’m kinda free till early March, so… if you really mean it, I’m more than willing to help.”

You know… screw it. Yes, I meant it. Even though Lill’ Prudent Jo on my right shoulder kept telling me that I was about to enter a potentially dangerous territory, I agreed. There was a strong chance that if I didn’t, I’d never see him again, and I was not yet ready for that. As a bonus, I suddenly had a strong leverage against Anna. If she wanted the job, she should start to behave in a different way.

Christmas was fine, but even though I love the festivities, I was really looking forward to January. For the first time in my life, because I hate January. However, the picture of naked Josh – stretching like a tomcat – got burnt into my retinas and haunted me for days after the last session.

But not only that. The pictures Lucas had taken turned out great and because it was Josh on them, as soon as I posted them online, they went literally viral, boosting my business immensely. So strictly businesslike, January suddenly didn’t seem so bad at all.

Josh had warned me it might happen (...with a wide grin, no less… that cheeky little fucker was looking forward to it.), but to see it actually happening was something completely differrent. It was like a Christmas gift. I wanted to thank him, and as I didn’t have his number, I had to wait to do it personally.

We were starting January 6th. I was a bit concerned with Josh’s inability to arrive on time, as he had been late to seven classes out of ten, so I told him we start at five. He arrived at quarter to six, just in time to get ready, and when I told him the truth, he blushed and promised to never do that again.

Of course he did it again, but all within the academic quarter hour. But I digress…

Lucas was free on Mondays, which basically meant that he spent those in my office, catching up on administrative work I had been recklessly ignoring. Oftentimes he wandered into the main studio to greet the people or watch me doing my job.

I always loved those little interludes; it only enhanced the sense of home, as well as camaraderie. Sometimes he gently brushed his fingers across my arm in passing. Other times he brought me a cup of tea and kissed my hair while doing so. When he was in an especially good mood, he arrived with a full box of chocolate pralines and offered everyone a treat before going back to emails and paperwork. We were known as the perfect couple.

That day, Lucas lingered in the main room more than he usually does, and I soon noticed it was not only because of me.

One moment I noticed him standing in the doorway with a cup of tea in his hand. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room, until they fell on the naked figure in the middle. He wore his poker face, which I deemed as foolish because I know very well that he does that when doesn’t want his thoughts and emotions to be seen, while being naturally quite expressive when he doesn’t care.

Despite his aloofness, he watched Josh intently.

After the first week, Josh and Anna modeled alternately, five poses each. It gave Josh the opportunity to wander around again and watch other people working. It didn’t take long for him to grow unusually calm and simply observing, because it was different this time, as the room was filled with naked drawings of him: haphazardly thrown on tables, or even on the floor. His body, seen from different perspectives or even points of view. I quickly sensed what was going on. It’s just very different to seeing photographs of you, because art doesn’t necessarily reflect unfiltered reality; rather someone else’s perception of you. He knew how he looked, but seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes can be a strange and humbling experience.

That was the second time (but definitely not the last) when I saw him blush.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I chimed in when I approached him. He was crouching down, examining a few sketches that lay abandoned on the floor.

“Scary,” he whispered, careful not to offend the person who drew them. “I mean, they’re fantastic, but it’s also a bit frightening.”

“I know what you mean.” I got on my knees next to him. “Just a few expressive lines, yet you can recognize yourself, right?”

“Yeah… but at the same time, I can’t.” His voice sounded strange. Hoarse and husky. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stroked it gently. I wouldn’t dare to act that way with anyone else, but this was what he himself often did. Josh never shied away from touch. For him, it was an essential part of human communication, because sometimes there are things you simply cannot put into words.

I looked up and noticed Lucas watching us again, his expression wild. It was not jealousy though, yet it still made me strangely agitated, because I couldn’t quite interpret it. He looked… hungry.

Later that evening, when we finally got home, he fucked me raw. I know my husband well, so I also know this is often the result of some conflicting thoughts and emotions, as well as previous unanswered arousal. It could very easily be interpreted as lust driven just by jealousy, but I felt there might have been other reasons.

I already suspected it, but nothing could prepare me for what I witnessed later that night.

I woke up in an empty bed after midnight. At first I thought he just couldn’t sleep so he decided to go get some work done instead. Just him and his laptop in our otherwise dark living room; that was a usual scene in our household.

After an hour of having trouble going back to sleep, I concluded I needed his embrace to help me, as his arms wrapped around my body could do the trick when everything else failed. So, I put on my bathrobe and ventured into the dark hallway to search for him and convince him to go back to bed.

I heard him before I actually saw him on the couch; the sound of him jerking off was unmistakable. So that thing with me earlier that night wasn’t enough? Interesting. But… men, huh? Still, I was becoming more and more convinced that something kept bothering him. I was also sure he would tell me in due time if he wanted or deemed it necessary.

Everyone needs their private space, some alone time. I respect that. I was about to turn around and go back to bed, but the sound of some music playing faintly on a loop made me intrigued. It didn’t sound like porn.

I remained standing in the open doorway, keeping myself quiet so as not to disturb his moment… when I saw it.

It was probably some tik tok video, playing over and over again. A video of… Josh! My husband was masturbating to the more or less erotic stage poses of our little friend, further sexualized by the edit.

And even though I had my suspicions that Josh managed to get into his head too, it was still a shock. Lucas was as straight as can be, never having mentioned any fantasies of this kind. It confused me, shook me, intrigued me even, as I stood there barely breathing… and surprised that my own jealousy was not part of the whirlwind. How could it be, when I was essentially guilty of the very same thing?

At last, I made my way back, making sure my footsteps weren’t heard.

I was still awake when Lucas came back to bed as well. Snuggling closer to me, he buried his face in my hair, while I pretended to be sleeping. We had to have a conversation, but it was destined for another place, and another time.

Morning came, and my determination to talk to him about last night’s events vanished. We ate our breakfast in peace and went our separate ways. Hours went by, then days, but I never mustered the courage to open that hot topic. Everything else was pretty normal. Just our usual week.

The week passed eventually, another lesson started, and Lucas was once again there, unknowingly confirming my theory.

Except this time he didn’t just watch.

The lesson went on smoothly. After it ended, I collected the supplies to carry them back to the storage. When I came back, I found them sitting on stools next to each other, deep in a low, nearly whispered conversation.

That wouldn’t be that surprising, or unusual. We often whispered during lessons (not Josh!) and it was an unconscious habit to continue doing so even when it was no longer necessary.

Josh had his bathrobe on, but the front was still open, more like a blanket thrown over his shoulders rather than something that was supposed to cover his naked body. What really threw me off was Lucas’ hand on Josh’s knee and the look on their faces. Now I was pretty much sure, but… the bastard! I never dared to actually do something like that, never even thought of doing it outside the confines of my own head. Ok, I might lie a bit, but – knowing I probably had no chance anyway – I simply didn’t.

I cleared my throat, notifying them of my presence, and they both jumped as if hit by electricity. Trying to keep Josh out of it, I pretended I hadn’t seen anything weird, although I’m pretty sure my face betrayed me. However, making a scene was the last thing on my mind. I wanted answers. One answer, to be exact. And, to be honest, the sight ignited something else in my mind.

“Jo…”

“I'll wait in the car,” was all I said before turning around abruptly. I grabbed my coat in the hall and disappeared outside, letting Lucas take care of the rest.

They came out five minutes later; together, but keeping a visible distance.

When Lucas got in the car, I could feel his silent gaze on me, intent and wary, but I didn’t return it. My eyes followed the other figure, dressed in a weird, custom-made bomber, strolling hastily across the parking lot towards his own car. He kept glancing our way stealthily.

“Jo…”

“Not now,” I interrupted him coldly. Josh got into his jeep in the meantime and I watched him drive away. “...and not here. Later. I’m hungry.”

Lucas watched me for a few more seconds, before he finally put the key in the ignition.

We spent the whole ride home in silence, ordered some food, which we once again ate in silence, until he just couldn’t take it any longer.

“Listen, Jo, I…”

“I saw you the other night,” I interrupted him.

“Saw me…” Lucas’ perplexed look quickly turned to one of utter horror. I won’t lie, I enjoyed watching him squirming like a snake on a hot plate, searching for words, before I finally decided to put him out of his misery. “But I’m not mad.”

That actually made him look even more perplexed, though he relaxed just a bit.

“Do you have feelings for him?” I continued. I needed to be sure of that one thing.

“No!" He seemed almost panicked. It was a dangerous question. Sex is a physical need, sometimes interconnected with feelings, but not necessarily. We agreed on that. Even our own fucking varied. It wasn’t always making love. And there were times when we weren’t even completely alone… “No, I mean, it’s difficult not to like him… in a purely platonic way…? But this is just lust. How come you’re not mad?”

I finished my beer before I replied. “I feel the same way, actually.”

“Do you!”

“Indeed.”

He raised his right eyebrow at me; a gesture which held a couple meanings at once. Curiosity and annoyance. He was teasing me… because he was jealous, while knowing too well that he had no right to be.

We watched each other for a while, each contemplating what to say next, even though there was nothing else to say. Knowing it as well as I did, Lucas sighed: “Ok, so what do we do? Ignore it and forget about it?”

“We’ll see it next week, my dearest,” I replied sarcastically, because that was actually the core of the problem. Not only we’ve never been in this situation before, but Josh was also very real. And while I enjoyed his company for the reasons I already mentioned, knowing that we in fact shared this little secret made it uncomfortable for the both of us. Lucas leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Oh, funny. Fine, enthral me with your own proposal on how to get out of this situation.”

“Well,” I sighed, “sometimes it’s best to scratch that itch.”

“What are you suggesting, Jo? Surely not to seduce Josh…?”

“I’m just answering your question,” I replied evasively. “I have one too, though.”

“Which is?”

“What were you two talking about?” For some strange reason, it made Lucas laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Music. We were discussing music…”

“Stop trying my patience, Lucas,” I spat. For the first time, I felt really angry. This game can be played only when there’s honesty. Lucas’ expression sobered, but he shook his head. “I’m serious. Kind of. We were discussing life performances,” he smirked at me. “And before you bite my head off, let me remind you what some of your most cherished paintings are about. It’s art, right?” he added, referring to several large canvasses depicting the two of us fucking.

“Ok, point taken,” I mumbled sulkily. He really liked those tiktoks, didn’t he. Bastard.

We left it at that, not really sure what to do. However, the situation solved itself that very next week. Josh may look like a cherub, but he’s not that innocent.

Josh was the only model that week, because Anna had to finish some essay which was almost past the deadline, and of course, he was late again. Storming into the room, he gave me just one worried glance and a barely audible sorry that had nothing to do with his late arrival, before he quickly changed and took up his position in the middle of the room, pretending to be a statue. That was unusual, considering his inherent restlessness.

Lucas was there too, but preferred to stay hidden in the safety of his office room. And while Josh kept avoiding eye contact with me as if his life depended on it, I noticed his numerous side glances towards that door.

When the lesson ended, he hastily wrapped himself in the bathrobe and started helping others put away their easels and other stuff. That was even more unusual. I had half expected him to run off as soon as possible, but the boy was lingering.

And surely, the moment everyone else left and I took some remaining supplies to carry to the storage room, he followed me like a pup, trying to explain what I had walked into the week before. “Listen, Jo, about that last t…”

“You mean when I caught you shamelessly flirting with my husband?” I interrupted him, throwing the unused paper on a huge pile in the corner. I can be merciless sometimes. His expression turned to one of utter abashment and diffidence, and it was funny to watch. I didn’t feel like he really fully deserved it, because it was Lucas’ hand on his knee and not vice versa, but this shy, empathetic and almost boyish side of him is sexy as hell and completely intoxicating.

Shamelessly, I wanted a sip of that tasty cocktail. Nevertheless, I fell into my own trap.

We were shrouded in semi darkness, with just enough light coming from the main room through the open door to allow us to see our expressions, enhanced by sharp shadows. The dim light suited him and his Adam's apple looked even more prominent as he swallowed.

“I… It…” unusually at a loss of words, he resorted to the second best thing he mastered quite well: touch.

A completely innocent touch. Just his hand sliding down my shoulder, his fingers gripping my arm firmly but tenderly. It shouldn’t have surprised me that much. Josh just likes to really physically connect with people in order to be understood. But it did take me by surprise. I had imagined those fingers wrapped around my bodily parts many times before.

My immediate reaction was completely involuntary. I just moaned. I mean… aloud.

Josh looked taken aback – and quite understandably – but instead of retreating, those fingers slid gently and slowly down to my elbow, as if testing me. Needless to say, I failed the test, although it wasn’t that blatant this time.

“Seriously?” he whispered. The puppy dog face was gone, replaced by something much more fierce… and excitingly dangerous. “What’s the deal with the two of you?”

“Yeah, Jo, what’s the deal?” I saw him enter, but Josh did not, and the suddenly cast shadow accompanied by Lucas’ husky tone visibly startled him.

It was like a strange pantomimic theatre nouveau. A play of shadows, touches and slow movements. Josh let go of me and his palm, open theatrically like a flower in mid air, was suddenly covered by Lucas’s right hand while the left one slid lightly down Josh's spine until it found purchase on his lower back. Josh tensed, but didn’t withdraw from the touch. In fact, he pulled Lucas’ right arm closer to him instead. Looking at me intensely with those big dark eyes, his lips slightly parted, but all that came out was a soft exhale. Being much more hesitant and restrained than my husband, I reached out to caress his cheek, and he leaned into my touch.

Suddenly, he tensed again, as if being awakened from a slumber. “Ok, what’s going on here?”

“Do we make you feel uncomfortable?” I wasn’t teasing. It was a genuine question.

“No, not uncomfortable. That’s why I’m asking. If I felt uncomfortable, I’d tell you both to fuck off.”

It took one shared fleeting glance between me and Lucas to escalate the situation beyond the point of no return. It was a true now or never moment.

“I have a few questions.”

Josh made himself comfortable on our large, U-shaped couch and took a sip of red wine from the glass I just handed him.

He had arrived in his jeep just about three minutes after us, giving me no time to make this place a little bit more… presentable. But honestly, who cares. He’s a rockstar, I’m a painter, and I was about to see him naked in a completely different situation. Dust if you must; I shall not.

“Shoot,” I replied, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Uh… ok… well, the first one’s obviously why.”

Naturally. At the same time, it was a pretty stupid question, with the three of us evidently sharing the why not mindset. I just opened my mouth to respond, but Lucas beat me to it. “Why what?”

Lucas, too, was still standing. Moving closer to the couch from behind, he grabbed the headrest on each side of Josh’s head and leaned down a bit.

We were circling Josh like prey, but the little cherub didn’t even flinch, convincing me he was well aware as to why… and liking it very much. The fucker just wanted to hear it.

“Why me, obviously,” he responded with a raspy voice and took another sip.

“Have you seen yourself?” I chimed in.

Josh sighed and leaned his head against the headrest, his curls brushing Lucas’ clothed stomach teasingly. See? He was VERY well aware, already playing the game along with us with gusto.

“Took me a few years to really see myself, but yeah.” His jaw tightened and he smirked at last. “Alright. Point taken. I’m irresistible.” He straightened again to help himself to another gulp of wine without the risk of spilling it, allowing Lucas to rub the nape of his neck gently. Josh leaned into the touch, but Lucas asked anyway: “Is this ok?” It was very important to build trust in this new situation.

“Totally,” Josh whispered and blinked, before he focused his gaze back on me.

“Ok, next question. Have you two done this before?”

Lucas stopped playing with Josh’s locks and put his hand on Josh’s right shoulder instead. Our little friend acknowledged the gesture with a stealthy side look, but his main focus remained on me, even when Lucas spoke. “No… Well, we… shared a bed with another couple once, but it wasn’t as exciting as it may sound, because everyone was only interested in their respective partners in the end. I dare say it turned out to be even a little bit awkward eventually. Chemistry’s important in such situations, and it wasn’t there.”

We certainly couldn’t complain about the lack of it this time. On the contrary, it was so strong it turned the air in the room into a thick soup of tension and growing lust. I kept eye contact, watching Josh’s eyelids droop as his lips transformed into a subtle pout. Our Ganymede was playing along, exerting his own power and dominance. At least over me.

The evening was not planned, the roles were not set and my own imagination had never led me this far despite me being the original author of this bold proposal. Now I was dying to know what was going on in his pretty head and what he might have in store for me.

His demeanor changed in a snap, and he turned his head a bit, finally looking up at Lucas like a puppy waiting for his master’s next move. I had to hide behind my own glass to prevent Lucas from seeing my face. Unnecessarily, because he wasn’t paying attention to me, anyway. “... and outside your mutual experience… how about… men?” Josh looked directly into Lucas’ eyes, who returned the gaze and answered truthfully: “No.”

Josh’s eyes widened slightly and he bit his lower lip. He had probably already expected it, but hearing it is always different.

It was pretty obvious what he was thinking, but even if it weren’t, his growing bulge told stories of its own. His sexual intelligence mesmerized me, though, as he willingly allowed Lucas to keep the high ground. It was no doubt a vulnerable moment for my husband, and I admired him for how well he’d been handling it so far.

I hated to break their little moment, but there were still other things that needed to be addressed. “Speaking of chemistry… I want you to know that I’m perfectly fine with just… watching. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Josh’s eyes snapped back to me, his expression a bit hard to decipher, but it still managed to increase my heart rate significantly. Then he spoke up and said heart jumped up my throat.

“I…uh… think you underestimate me, Jo. I consider myself to be a very eclectic person, especially… uh… when it comes to fun. Which brings me to my last question. What are you two actually planning to do with me?”

My breath hitched as I watched him lick his upper lip with the tip of his tongue playfully. We had no plan. We couldn’t possibly have one, not without his participation, and he was quite aware already. It wasn’t really a question, it was an offering.

“Whatever you want…,” was all I managed to choke out.

“I think I want a kiss. Just show me how much you want this, yeah?”

I swear I could hear something snap, and the last remains of our restraints were gone with a puff. Josh was game. I wanted to ask from whom, but there was no longer room for questions, because Lucas took action. Without any further ado, he leaned forward again, grabbed Josh by the chin and forced him to turn his head to the side. I’m not sure if my brain slowed my perception of time or if they really looked at each other for so long, but it was fascinating to watch.

And then Lucas fulfilled Josh’s wish. Softly at first, but Josh made it clear he didn’t come here to cuddle. He opened his mouth without being asked to and their tongues met in a very sloppy and passionate kiss.

Josh reached behind Lucas’ head to grab the nape of his neck while my husband’s hand slid down to Josh’s throat, which made the latter moan loudly and I had to pull in my lips to stifle my own whimper. They paid me no mind though, lost in their own realm where they both ruled, each one in a different way, each one holding a different kind of power over the other.

What a mesmerizing sight. Truly. I watched in awe the dark and dirty fairytale that was just being played before my eyes. I really would be happy just watching it. My stomach muscles contracted violently and I could feel my panties absorb the overflowing wetness. I took the glass from Josh’s outstretched arm, which became an inconvenience. I put it on the kitchen counter and poured myself more wine.

In the meantime, Lucas climbed over to join Josh on the couch, where they continued with their mutual exploration; taking their time. Lucas was on his knees, still hovering over Josh slightly, holding his head in both hands now, fingers scratching the buzzed sides. The huge amount of energy that had been building inside of him for hours (or weeks) was palpable, and it begged to be released.

With his head tilted backwards, Josh’s hands slid down Lucas’ chest, searching blindly for the hem of his shirt, tugging at it tellingly. I downed the glass, bracing for what was to come, as Lucas broke the kiss and pulled his arms up, letting Josh do the job. They were both almost breathless, watching each other with eyes wide open. I couldn’t blame them; my own were popping off. Suddenly, Josh grabbed Locas’ bare sides and brushed his open mouth and nose hungrily against Lucas’ chest, taking him in with all the senses.

The wildest fantasies couldn’t compare to this overwhelmingly intense show. I wasn’t ready, and with the wine already making my head spin and my cunt burn, I myself was getting completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

“I… really…,” Josh breathed out before he licked his lips and his fingers brushed the button of Lucas’ jeans.

“Good god,” my husband muttered and closed his eyes. “Ok, yeah, go ahead, please…” With that, he straightened and stood up, once again towering over our sexy guest. Josh looked up with his mouth slightly open to allow those slow, deep breaths in and out. His fingers brushed over Lucas’ prominent bulge, making Lucas whimper. “But don’t tease.”

Josh smirked. Teasing was exactly what he was planning to do.

He pulled the zipper down, keeping the movement excruciatingly slow, and carefully pulled the pants low enough to set Lucas’ throbbing dick free. “No underwear, tsk,” he teased. “Another thing we have in common.”

“What’s the firs…” Lucas tried to ask, but never finished the sentence, because Josh suddenly swirled his tongue over the already leaking head like a hungry tomcat.

“Oh Jesus!” Lucas panted, his finger running through Josh’s curls. “No more teasing! You wanted suck, so take it. Suck!”

And so he did. And I suddenly wished I had a dick, because while I considered myself to be quite good at it, I hardly ever managed to make my husband really weak in the knees. Josh, on the other hand, got him there in less than three minutes and Lucas had to stop him eventually.

“Good?” Josh grinned.

“Too good, and you know it, you bastard,” he growled before turning to me. “Jo, could you… the box…”

“Oh, sure,” I nodded, rushing to retrieve a small box filled with necessities from our bedroom. Once there, I decided to quickly change as well. He wants fun, so let’s have fun. I chose a black lacy top with ribbon lacing at the back and no underwire. No panties either. let the pussycat breathe. I had showered before the lesson, so whatever was going to happen, I was ready.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before going back. Letting my hair down was the last, finishing touch to make me satisfied with what I saw in the reflection. My tits looked heavy supported just by thin lace and my cheeks were flushed from the excitement.

It only grew as the muted sounds of their voices reached me through the open doors. Lucas’ teasings and promises, uttered in his lowest register, followed by a naughty giggle. It fueled my imagination even more.

Were their limbs already entangled? Restless hands roaming every inch of their flesh? Did their eyes meet often, sharing the unspeakable? Soft moans reached my ears as I stood there, wondering. I longed to see it all, and hurried back.

They didn’t notice me at first. I walked around the couch stealthily, careful not to disturb the intimate foreplay.

And as I had expected, both were already naked. Josh, lying on his back with his arms behind his head. He had his eyes closed, getting lost in time and space. Lucas was crouching between his spread legs, his parted lips travelling across Josh’s chest, while his hands kept Josh’s elbows in place.

I watched as he darted his tongue out, swirling it around Josh’s left nipple, leaving the areola glistening wet. Josh tilted his head back and moaned again, arching his back ever so slightly while doing so.

“Oh dear god,” I muttered at last, informing them of my presence.

Josh just opened his eyes while Lucas straightened a little, his hands stroking Josh’s exposed triceps’ while he turned around to look at me. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked Josh with his eyes still on my.

“Stunning.”

Feeling a bit uneasy under their sudden scrutiny, I took a step forward and handed Lucas the small box, before I dared to sit on the floor right next to Josh’s head. “Hey,” I smiled shyly.

… which he answered with a toothy grin. “Why so coy all of the sudden? Where’s my bold lecturer? Shouldn’t I be the one to feel bashful?

“Are you?”

“No… especially not now when I see what this does to you.”

Always a showman. I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance and he grinned even more before his eyes fell back on Lucas, who had bent down again to pepper Josh’s lower abdomen with tiny kisses.

“I love when he does that to me,” I whispered. “Feels good, doesn’t in!”

With a melodic “mmmmhhhhn,” Josh closed his eyes again, panting softly through his parted lips as Lucas dared to venture lower. I watched how his finger enveloped Josh’s hard dick, giving it a few tentative strokes, before he suddenly grabbed Josh’s legs under his knees, forcing them upwards, making him gasp.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked, making him open his eyes again.

“I think you must.”

And I did. I had been longing to taste them for so long that I was NOT coy about that in any way. I took advantage of him keeping those lips parted and licked the inner corner first before I pushed my tongue into his waiting mouth, making him moan into mine.

Or perhaps it wasn’t just my doing. He gasped again soon after, breaking the kiss. “Fuck, you’re good at this!” It didn’t belong to me, as I could immediately see.

Lucas paused for a bit, just to look at us. “That’s because she loves it,” he grinned deviously before returning to Josh’s ass, eliciting a few more profanities from his pouty mouth. The sight and the sounds were making me hungry, and I went for Josh’s exposed neck, licking and sucking on the delicate skin. He grabbed the back of my head to prevent me from stopping. He loved that. I could HEAR it! Oh god, he sings even during sex. So beautiful.

Lucas straightened again and with a long, steadying intake of breath, he opened the box to retrieve a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms from it. It was time.

“Is it ok if I stay like this? I wanna see everything,” Josh breathed out in a husky tone, watching Lucas apply a generous amount of lube on his fingers.

“Whatever you want, pillow princess.” With that, he pushed Josh’s legs even more upwards, letting them rest against his listed arm while he started circling Josh’ entrance with the middle finger of his other hand. He watched me, looking a bit lost in thoughts and I wondered what was going on inside his head. I didn’t have to wonder for too long, though.

“Hold him!” he ordered and I quickly obeyed, loving the idea.

“What?!” Josh bursted out when I sat behind his head and grabbed his wrists, pulling his arms back behind his head. At the same time, Lucas pushed the finger inside. I looked down into those wide-eyed pools and he swallowed hard. “Not what you expected?

“I… I…”

“Not what you want?” Once again, I didn’t mean to tease. His pleasure was the ultimate goal, after all.

“I..yes…I want…”... Lucas added a second finger… “Yes!”

“Wonderful, baby. Enjoy,” I smiled down at him.

I knew Lucas would be careful, and Josh’s relaxed face told me I was right. And Lucas had been right too; I loved this a lot, thanks to his gentleness. I always wondered what it would feel like if I had a prostate though, feeling maybe even a bit jealous sometimes. This time, I could at least watch it. Tiny droplets appeared on Josh’s forehead and and a string of muttered ‘fuck’s’ flew from his pretty mouth when Lucas curled those fingers.

“Fuck…” Josh breathed out again after a while. “Fuck me already!”

Lucas’s eyes visibly darkened at those words. He let go of Josh’s legs, carefully withdrew and crawled over him, looking him directly in the eye. “That was hot,” he hissed. “Beg again!”

“Please… fuck me,” Josh whimpered, tugging at his wrists restrained by my firm grasp.

“Good boy.” With deliberate precision and skilled swiftness, Lucas put on a condom, poured more lube on top of his dick, spread it all over and positioned himself. between Josh’s outstretched legs. One of his feet slid down from the couch, so Lucas grabbed him again under his knee and threw the leg lovingly over his shoulder. “You’re a very pretty whore, Josh Kiszka,” he crooned and slowly, carefully entered.

I bent down to kiss our very pretty whore whole Lucas waited for him to adjust, and I didn’t stop until I felt him move. Josh arched his back again and his soft pants soon turned to moans, and moans to cries when Lucas quickened his pace, holding Josh’s hips firmly.

I wondered why Lucas was so quiet though, and I learned the reason soon. This night…it was just too much, it was too unexpected and overall so sexy there was a pool between my legs just from watching it. He exhaled ruggedly all of the sudden, and then again, and at last he cried out before he collapsed on top of Josh, panting.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered right next to his ear, making Josh chuckle breathily.

“For what? God, that was…”

“Quick.”

“Yeah, but…”

I let go of Josh’s wrist and collapsed into the corner of the couch, trying not to laugh. Lucas pulled out carefully and helped Josh into a sitting position before he disposed of the condom quickly. When he came back, He offered Josh his outstretched hand. “Stand up.”

“Why?” Josh asked as he hesitantly took it.

“Just stand up.” My husband looked visibly nervous, but determined, and I knew immediately what he was going to do. For the first time in his life.

He kissed the slightly bewildered Josh first, softly on the mouth, before he got on his knees before him. “Oh…ok,” Josh panted.

I sucked in breath, unsure what to do… or maybe just feeling second handedly Lucas’ own uncertainty. “Lucas, if…”

“Shut up.” He brushed his fingertips across Josh’s lower abdomen first, shadow tracing all those kisses he had planted there before, before he let them circle around the base of Josh’s erection. And, at last, he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head.

Josh closed his eyes and with a furrowed brow, he muttered an encouraging “yes”. Emboldened, Lucas tried to venture further, only to make Josh hiss in discomfort. I bit my lower lip. Teeth.

“Imagine her mouth,” Josh said softly. “What does she do?” Lucas tried again and Josh shuddered, but it was different this time. He smiled at last. “Uh huh…hmmmm, yes,” he breathed out. “Yes, that’s it.

Slowly, Lucas found the way, as well as the right rhythm. He was hell bent on making it right. Needless to say, he had a very empathetic teacher. He stroked Lucas' hair with one hand while the other ventured behind his ear, holding him firmly without forcing him down. And Josh was not a faker; when he made a sound, you knew it was genuine.

“I’m gonna come,” Josh moaned after a while and his fingers slid gently to the nape of Lucas’s neck. He was asking for permission.

I could see that Lucas tensed slightly and visibly hesitated, so I quickly slid down on my knees right next to him and opened my mouth. Josh blinked at me, understanding slowly appearing on his face. “Come on, I want it,” I urged him. He pulled out and I quickly swallowed him whole, pressing my flattened tongue against the underside of his already twitching dick. I continued to suck, determined to save every drop as he shuddered above me with a heavy sigh.

After I finally released him, he fell backwards on the couch, panting wildly. I already swallowed most of his cum, I could feel it burning my throat slightly, but there was still a strong aftertaste when Lucas grabbed my jaw and kissed me deeply and hungrily.

“Good?” I panted when he withdrew.

“So good.”

“Jesus Christ…” we heard Josh mutter, rubbing his hand over his face before he let it run through his messy curls. I looked at him and smiled before I stood up, joined him on the couch and exhaled slowly, content, but not fully satisfied. Lucas remained sitting cross legged on the floor in front of us. His gaze darted between me and Josh, and I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. With his arms resting on his knees, he looked calm and tired.

“What about you, Jo?”

I slowly turned my head towards the source of that deliciously raspy voice. Josh’s eyes looked almost black in the dimmed light, making the whites sparkly in contrast. He smiled and ran a finger back and forth across his lower lip, eyeing me inquisitively.

“What about me?” I smiled weakly back.

He cleared his throat first before he replied. “I’d really love to reciprocate.”

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” I teased, my mind already there, browsing through all the possibilities.

His reddened cheeks literally glowed and I found myself unable to break eye contact, still examining what was hiding behind his dilated pupils. I didn’t notice how his hand slid towards mine until he grabbed it and drew it up to his plump lips. I expected him to kiss my fingers, and he did, but… his tongue then slid between my index and middle finger, licking suggestively. He kept eye contact the whole time and I squealed a bit taken aback by the lewdness of the gesture, despite everything that already happened.

Josh’s pillowy mouth between my legs? Oh, fuck yeah! “I’d really love that.”

“May I?” He asked Lucas almost hesitantly.

“Go on, she deserved it.”

I expected him to get on his knees, but instead he slid lithely on his back again and rested his head on a small cushion in one of the corners of the couch. “Come on then, sit.”

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my arms, making me almost tumble over him, making us both giggle. Regaining my balance, I positioned myself carefully and hesitated again, so he grabbed my ass and pulled me down, making me squeak. I dared to look down, meeting the same gaze that he had shared with me earlier that evening in the storage room. Fierce…and dangerous. The very next second I understood why, as he darted his tongue out and let it flutter over my clit with insane speed. I tensed and arched my back, opening my mouth in a silent scream.

Mercifully, he gently enveloped it with his lips instead and started licking it tenderly. Honestly, that was probably even worse. In a matter of seconds, I was a moaning mess, bending over the headrest.

Naturally, I didn’t hear Lucas move until he was right in front of me. He was hard again and ready to continue. “I think I need your help, bitch.”

Not the first time he called me bitch. Never during an argument, always when he wants to cum. It makes me wild, to be honest, and that’s exactly what he wanted. I grabbed him by the hips, pulled him closer and swallowed him whole. He grabbed my hair to make sure I knew who was in charge and pushed again, thrusting all the way until he hit my throat. And then again.

I relaxed, focusing on tbe head of Lucas's dick deep in my throat, but it took one swift flick of Josh’s tongue around my clit to throw me completely off balance and I gagged violently.

It was followed by his own loud whimper that reverberated through my pussy. That kinky little bastard. I felt a subtle, rhythmic movement somewhere behind me and tried to break free from Lucas’ grasp to have a look. “Yeah, he’s jerking off,” he groaned impatiently. “Suck!”

For a fleeting second I imagined seeing myself from the outside, the whole scene. My head spun and the sensation between my legs became almost unbearable. I was acutely aware of every tiny licks that sent me further towards the edge… and then I was falling. Lucas had to pull out just to let me breathe.

Slowly and carefully, I lifted myself on my knees, allowing Josh to get from under me. I was aware we weren’t done. Not after my husband had called me bitch. It also meant he was in the mood for some pretty rough fuck. However, he didn’t move, his hard-on now literally resting against my flushed cheek. “Well, well, what a precarious situation, right?”

His tone confirmed my suspicion, but still told me nothing about his plans. “I think that pussy’salready pretty swollen now. Hmm, that’s always good. Do you want to fuck her, Joshy boy?” I tensed at those words, so hot and lewd and unexpected. A hand ghosted over my left asscheek, making me shiver.

“Oh yeah, you do, don’t you. Go ahead then.”

The continuing silence made me nervous. “Josh?”

I felt him shift behind me, I felt his skin brush against my back and closed my eyes, reveling at the sensation. Then suddenly, it was his hot breath near my ear and he whispered: “Can I, Jo?”

“Oh god, yes!” I blurted out.

I felt him shift again, reaching for a condom. A moment later, I felt those hands again, as he grabbed my hips and pushed them up. I looked up, meeting Lucas’s dark eyes, my mouth already open and ready. “You’re whore,” he said. “I love it.”

And then Josh entered me. And then I was completely full, and barely breathing.

It was overwhelming. Josh was hitting my g-spot just right and it took only a few more minutes until I came hard again with my mouth still full of Lucas’s dick. I moaned around it as he held me by the nape of my neck and continued to fuck my mouth. I gagged violently and he let go just to let me take one deep breath before he plunged back. I convulsed and my throat constricted around his head, making him moan. I loved the sound. My whole body tensed and another wave of orgasm reverberated through it, making my pussy spasm and clench around Josh’s dick.

He slowed down and hesitated, and his grip on my hips loosened. He was no longer holding me firmly, he just stroked me soothingly. I looked up, begging Lucas to tell the other one that it was all ok, because I couldn’t. “Go on, she absolutely loves this.”

It didn’t convince him. He was still rock hard, I could feel it. That wasn’t the issue. Losing my patience, I clenched my walls on purpose now, making him whimper, before I mustered all my remaining energy to hiss: “For fucks sake do your worst.”

I’m not kidding, he growled. I swear, it’s true.

I felt almost like a ragdoll between them, with my chest pressed against the headrest and clutching it with both my hands until my knuckles turned white. My thighs were shaking and I was gasping for air, but neither of them stopped. After a while, Lucas grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head up. I looked up at him with my mouth still open, long ropes of saliva still connecting it with his dick somehow. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was looking at Josh instead, while jerking himself off frantically right in front of my face.

“Does it feel good, fucking her?” he growled. I could feel Josh’s fingertips pressing harder into the ample flesh of my hips as he slowed down his pace considerably. I couldn’t blame him. Lucas’s tone was dangerous.

“ANSWER!”

“Yes…” Only then I realized how much I wanted to hear that, but Josh stopped in his movements, unsure if that was the right answer.

Me being familiar with that menacing tone, I knew it meant Lucas was extremely aroused. Only this time, I couldn’t really tell where this was heading, and my own apprehension only grew. He soon answered my unspoken question, making me gasp.

“Would you like to fuck ME?”

I couldn’t really see what happened next. I could only feel and hear it. I only imagined the shock on Josh’s face, drawing it with sharp lines inside my head, inspired by Josh’s sharp inhale. It was followed by a whispered breathy ‘oh’ and a whimper as his dick twitched inside me. One involuntary thrust forward, followed by three more… and he was spent.

I DID watch how it all reflected in Lucas’s eyes, growing more fierce with each passing millisecond as he stared at the other man behind me with his lips slightly parted in surprise.

“Open!” he ordered suddenly. I thought he meant me, so I obligingly opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, but Lucas pushed me slightly aside and I felt Josh shift above me. He leaned himself onto the small of my back to get closer, grabbing the headrest with one hand and my shoulder with the other for support. I could feel he barely recovered; he was still shaking. And yet… In my own post-orgasm gaze, I dared to glance sideways only to see him do just what I had done a second before.

Looking down at us, Lucas smirked. “Look how obedient he is, my love.” The words, while spoken to me, were not meant for me at all, and Josh inhaled loudly, dutifully bracing for what was to come. Lucas grabbed him by the hair and rammed his dick deep in his throat. Josh’s cheeks puffed out and he barfed chokingly, while his eyes rolled up into his skull, making him look almost possessed. The obscenity of it was the last impulse Lucas needed to paint Josh’s throat with hot spurts of his seed.

Lucas pulled out just enough for Josh to be able to swallow. Only then did he let go of his hair completely, letting him take a breath.

Josh collapsed onto my back completely now, with his cheek resting on my shoulder, and his quickened breath resonating against my ribcage. I wrapped my arms around Lucas’ waist, resting my forehead against his belly. He stroked my hair gently, while wiping sweat from his forehead with his other hand. We must have looked like a mannerist sculptural group.

“So, everyone good?” Lucas said at last.

I felt Josh chuckle against my shoulder and I started giggling uncontrollably.

We showered separately, allowing ourselves a moment of privacy to fully absorb what had just happened.

Lucas ordered some Indian food and we are on the very same couch just like three good friends, except we were all still naked. And because we also finished the bottle of wine and opened another one, I refused to let Josh drive back home. No, he was staying, end of discussion. Our bed was large enough.

Despite my previous exhaustion and unusually deep sleep, I was roused later that night by a peculiar sensation; as if I was sleeping in a rocking cradle. Half awake and with my eyes still closed, my brain tried to make sense of it, until I heard the unmistakable sound of the two of them fucking on my right, literally just a few inches away from me. They were trying to be quiet, and moving slowly, swaying together in a spooning position like two boats rocked by the waves. Their deep breathing and the sensuous, slapping sound of lubricated flesh gave them away in an instant and I could feel the heat emanating from their skin. I listened in silence for a minute or two, feeling almost like an intruder in that very intimate and very carnal moment.

But this was my bed, and my husband, and basically my idea. I was not going to let them leave me out of it like that.

I turned my head to the side slowly and opened my eyes, instantly meeting Josh’s. They widened in bewilderment, the white of his eyes shiny in the near darkness, and I responded with a cunning smile.

Lucas had his arm wrapped around Josh’s torso and I stroked the back of his hand with my fingertips. It immediately made him stop. They lay unmoving in complete silence, waiting for my next reaction.

“Go on,” I whispered, while my hand traveled further down, brushing against the tense flesh of Josh’s abdomen until it reached his rock hard cock. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a tentative squeeze in unison with Lucas, who moved again.

Josh finally broke the silence and immediately tried to stifle the moan by biting his lower lip. What a blasphemy! I wanted to hear that beautiful voice. I wanted it to reverberate between the walls of our bedroom until the window panes rattled! So, I grabbed his jaw with my right hand and forced it open again with my fingers. He continued staring at me with wide eyes and I snuggled closer, licking his parted lips with my tongue while stroking him slowly with my other hand.

His eyelids fluttered closed and he moaned loudly in my mouth.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he mumbled afterwards.

The darkness around us was slowly subsiding, but it wasn’t just my eyes getting used to it. Dim, blue light gradually filled the room and I could finally see more than just their outlines. It was already early morning. Lucas lifted his head and looked at us for the first time, winking at me. The motherfucker felt no shame. He wanted him all for himself. “You bastard,” I spat and he responded by bottoming out forcefully, making Josh arch his back and grab my arm instinctively. I kissed him again in response while still pumping him, only this time I forced my tongue inside his mouth, licking into it.

“You’re so sinfully pretty,” I mumbled against his lips when I finally broke the kiss. “I wanna paint you as a fallen angel.”

“A fallen… angel…?” he whispered back shakily in between his pants that matched Lucas’s languid thrusts and my strokes.

“Yeah, watching you being fucked by my husband is making me all wet. What a sight. So beautiful...”

Lucas grunted and Josh just shook his head in a silent no.

“Yes, you are. See?” I let go of him and reached between my legs, gathering some of the wetness before I pushed my fingertips inside his mouth, making him suck on them. Josh obliged, in his docile attempt to please me.

We were literally using him and he was very much aware. And loving it. With his plump lips still wrapped around my fingers, Josh looked at me again and something in his eyes changed. I swear I could see undiluted depravity in it and it made my head spin even while still lying safely on the pillow. He was indeed a true piece of art.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I whispered daringly and he grasped my wrist and pulled my fingers out of his mouth, before he grabbed a handful of my hair, letting me know that he was not yet completely giving in. He was not as strong as Lucas, but nicely toned and could still overpower me if he wanted. I felt the power emanating from him, boosted by the sexual stamina. I could tease him all I wanted, fascinated by how comfortable he was in letting me, but – clearly – enough was enough.

“Turn around,” he breathed out and I quickly obeyed, completely taken aback by the sinful idea and breathing in their mixed manly musky scent that wafted around us. Lucas halted his movements again, letting Josh position himself. He pressed his right thigh against mine, using it as leverage. Feeling his head between my folds, I let out a shaky breath and pushed back, making him enter me fully.

Now it was me breathing heavily, still trying to convince myself that it was not all just a dirty dream. The time almost ceased to exist in the steely morning light. We were no longer silent, all moving in a synchronized rhythm set by Lucas. He was like a metronome, setting the pace as we all moaned into it, writhing like snakes in the lustful melody. Josh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer while I reached behind me to stroke his hair. “So soft,” he mumbled, kneading my tit. I took another deep breath, taking in the overwhelming mixed scent of their heated bodies. For a moment I wondered what it would feel like to be in between them, penetrated by both and being pushed to the brink of madness by the combined, double stimulation.

Josh came first, and no wonder, because he was the lucky one now, being fucked while buried balls deep in the warm softness of my pussy. He let out a prolonged, high-pitched whimper and I could feel him twitch inside me. I reached down and grabbed his thigh while he trembled with his face pressed in the nape of my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My hand traveled up his thigh until I reached his ass and dug my fingernails in his hairless, juicy flesh, making him squeak. Lucas kept fucking into him mercilessly as if nothing happened and Josh held onto my forearm for dear life. He almost sobbed and for the first time that night I felt strangely strong, like he was finally completely at our mercy… which he was.

“Is he big inside you?” I teased.

“So…,” Josh breathed out, but was unable to finish the sentence. That’s when Lucas chimed in for the first time.

“So tight. He’s taking me so good. You’re… a good boy, huh?”

Josh was still hard inside me and whimpered again at those words. “So be a good boy a little longer. Make her cum if you want my load,” Lucas continued – almost breathless – but his tone sounded strong… authoritative almost. He was also very close, I could tell. And so was I. To be honest, I could come just by listening to the two of them.

Josh’s obedience prevented me from testing that theory, though. His hand grabbed my inner thigh and forced my leg up a bit, before he snaked it in between my legs and his fingertips brushed against my clit, almost fearfully this time. He started with slow, tentative circles, but soon quickened his pace when I moaned lewdly, making it known that he was doing a good job.

Lucas’s thrusts became frantic at this point and he basically forced Josh to keep moving inside me. His knee that was still resting against mine started to tremble violently and he cried out from overstimulation.

Suddenly, Josh’s breath hitched and I sensed rather than saw how Lucas wrapped his hand around Josh’s throat, as I could feel his arm between us. “You like this?” Lucas growled and Josh let out a high-pitched, strangled “yeah”, confirming my suspicion. I was getting high on his nasal ‘hnnnns’ and it took only a few more seconds until I came hard around him, squeezing him tight.

It was too much for him, and he ejaculated again, howling like a wolf pup. He was literally writhing now. His arm twisted around me again, squeezing my rib cage.

“Lucas!” I hissed warningly and looked behind me, but there was no need. He let out a low growl and let go of Josh’s throat, grabbing at his side instead in a frantic need to hold on to something. I was certain he was going to leave marks. He bottomed out one last time and his whole body shook while he filled Josh’s ass with his seed.

Neither of us moved for a while. I felt Josh go limp inside me until he just slipped out. I heard him hiss slightly as Lucas pulled out too. “Are you ok, baby? I asked him tentatively and he rubbed his nose against the nape of my neck before he answered.

“More than ok, Jo? I think I might not be able to walk tomorrow, but… yeah, it was worth it,” he chuckled.

I felt something shift as the dawn broke. It felt right like that. I didn’t want it to be just one night.

The truth about love is it's nasty and salty It's the regret in the morning, it's the smelling of armpits It's wings, and songs And trees, and birds It's all the poetry that you ever heard P!nk, The Truth About Love

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @Lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust @Ironlotus90

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ghostandsoap · 1 year ago

Text

Sitting with a Show

John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem! Reader Tags: NSFW. Smut. Cockwarming. Soap being a jerk lol. A/N: Horrible title. Will change it when I come up with something better. Word Count: 1.0k "Your odds are lookin' good."

"Hey, hey..." Soap warned, his grip on your hips tightening. "Stop it. Watchin' the game here."

"John, this is ridiculous," You hissed. "There will be a million soccer games other than this one."

"Football," He corrected, giving the side of your thigh a smack. "None of that soccer rubbish."

"It's the same thing," You gruffed, whimpering when he shifted his hips underneath you. "Every game is the same."

His tip hit the furthest part inside of you that it could, and your arms and legs were beginning to get fuzzy. Soap's cock had been stuffed inside of you for what felt like hours now - completely hard and prodding at all the right places.

He was perfectly comfortable, sunken into the mattress, propped up just enough so he could properly see the TV that was screaming with bright colors of soccer field turf and fans dressed for their team in the stands. He could see the screen over you, much to your demise.

To be completely honest, this whole ordeal did seem fun at first. It was something different, and something you hadn't tried before. It was arousing to think about Soap being buried inside of you with no promise of friction or relieving stimulation. It was supposed to drive him crazy. It was supposed to make him desperate for you...make him beg for you.

However, it seemed that your devious plan fell apart when he decided to take advantage of it and turn the tables on you.

"I don't know why you're complainin' so much," He chuckled, completely unbothered. "This was your idea, sweet stuff."

So now, you were stuck with him taunting you and torturing you with his cock by doing nothing with it - and he was too invested in his stupid soccer/football game to even think about giving in. His eyes were glued to the TV screen behind you, his gaze barely peeling away for merely a moment.

He was having fun watching you fall apart over his attention being elsewhere in a situation where you were fully naked and at his disposal. The circumstances were great for an even better lovemaking session. But Soap was having too much fun playing the game you originally intended to play.

"I might as well go home at this point," You growled, seriously considering getting up and leaving. "So fucking annoying."

At this point, it was beginning to piss you off more than anything. It was the frustration with his stubbornness and irritation for not getting what you wanted. Frankly, you were beginning to feel bad for previously wishing this upon him.

"Hey...don't be like that," He said in a tone that was demanding, but also sympathetic. "We're havin' fun, princess."

His eyes were set on you now, his irises moving back and forth as he focused on your expression to see if this was beginning to become too much for you. Soap could be a bit intentionally aggressive in the bedroom sometimes, but he never let it get to the point where you weren't enjoying yourself.

He studied carefully, looking for anything that let him know he needed to stop. You were definitely getting antsy, and every minute that passed you were growing more needy.

But you weren't at your breaking point...yet.

"You're having fun," You growled, tears beginning to form in your lower lash line. "I'm not getting-"

To shut you up, Soap gave a quick, firm thrust up into you, making a strained cry leave your throat at the feeling of finally having some kind of movement. Soap let out a low, erotic groan at the sound of your wetness getting pushed around and the sight of it smeared onto his lower stomach made his cock twitch within you. He stayed still for a moment, only moving again when your shoulders relaxed.

He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.

He fucked you slow for a bit, giving you just enough to begin to satisfy you, but not enough to curb your craving for him. He saw your blown pupils and flushed skin, tell-tale signs that you were completely maxed out and ready for more.

Too bad he had a soccer game to watch.

His hip movements stopped, and you were back to square one - completely swallowing his cock between your legs, but no promise or sign of anything more. The look on your face was priceless - an overwhelming expression of disappointment, disbelief, and betrayal. Soap would've felt bad for you...except he didn't.

"You're...you're gonna fuck me, right?" You asked, words breathy and voice barely audible.

He gave a chuckle so mischievous and smug that it almost made you tear up again. He reached for one of your hands, pressing your knuckles to his lips with a smirk.

"Sure, I'll fuck you..." He gave a shit eating grin when he saw your eyes light up. "...if they win."

Against your better judgment, you turned your head to look at the TV, your stomach dropping when you saw that the game was just over halfway through the first half...and the scores were tied. Not only did you have another half to go, but there was a chance that you might make it to the end of the game and receive no end to this torture at all. Maybe if you were lucky, you could convince him during halftime.

Soap laughed again at your agitated look, giving your backside a playful squeeze.

"Cheer up, pretty girl. They've had a good year so far," He said, referring to his preferred team. "Your odds are lookin' good."

Soap wasn't showing any signs of letting up, and you didn't have a choice but to endure the rest of this game and hope for a winning game.

This was going to be the longest game of your life.

#soap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x fem! reader #soap smut #soap fanfiction #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x fem! reader #john mactavish smut #john mactavish fanfiction #cod modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare ii #modern warfare iii #modern warfare ii fanfiction #modern warfare iii fanfiction #ghostandsoap

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m00nchildwrites · 5 months ago

Text

pairings: female!reader (first person) x Xavier

tags: romance, eventual smut, based on storyline of game but diverges, little angst and feelings, resolved feelings, fluff, hurt/comfort, injury, these two need to just kiss already, use of her/she/you depend on the pov at the time, reader/MC/you is expressed as female and during smut times will use female-at-birth anatomy terms- she/her, first person when written from "your" pov- use of I/my/mine, referred to as y/n, will have nsfw content mdni- please read with caution, will be tagged, my smut gets ...vivid. Will have content from part of story line, myth cards, and other cards [possibly...probably].

{ch list: 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5 (here), 6}

Chapter 5: Lumiere

When I arrived in Azure Square, the scope of the situation fully sank in. There was devastation everywhere. It looked post-apocalyptic. The skyscrapers' bottom floors all had their glass blown out like from an explosion, likely the same metaflux explosion that was on set earlier that morning. Broken hologram signs were hanging or scattered on the ground below. Taxis and cars were wrecked, crushed, or on fire. It had all fallen into ruin. People ran around screaming as hordes of Wanderers attacked anything and everything that moved. Otto-bots were smashed to pieces. Explosions shook the ground. It was like when the Deepspace Tunnel first appeared when I was a child. This level of destruction had not taken place in the city since that time.

The chaotic metaflux was spreading like wildfire outwards as though it was being created and pushed further to encompass more territory. It was so thick in the air; it nearly distorted it like heat waves off of pavement in the height of summer. Hunters were already there when I arrived. More and more of my colleagues poured into the square, fighting desperately to contain the horde and their destruction. Others ushered the trapped civilians to safety.

I immediately got to work. My guns smoked from the amount of firing. I covered countless civilians as they ran, reuniting crying children with mothers and moving so many others to safety. On and on it went, yet it seemed that as quickly as we put them down, more poured in, as though they were just endlessly respawning. Hunters began falling around me one by one, and I could feel myself growing weaker. The continued and constant use of my evol over such a period of time was draining my energy.

After a particularly nasty fight, my vision blurred and I stumbled, catching myself on an overturned taxi and ducking behind it to catch my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to recombobulate myself. My ears were ringing. But the sounds of battle seemed further away and fewer.

Perhaps we had made a dent afterall… or maybe the Wanderers were chasing my teammates down elsewhere. I had to pull it together and see for myself. I shook my head in a feeble attempt to shake the blurriness out of my sight. My heart was pounding from the exertion. My body was burning too, from cuts, burns, bruises, and gashes. My uniform would have to be replaced.

I tsked. My head falling back against the metal of the ruined taxi. It was beginning to look like I wouldn’t make it out of here. Like none of us still here would. Surely more teams were on their way. But, would they make it? And where were these Wanderers coming from? No. My uniform was the last thing I needed to worry about.

I reloaded my guns and, breath returned, stood from my cover and threw myself back into battle. In the distance, I saw a Hunter, a familiar figure, someone that I had worked with before- gone on that team building trip with- collapse. I rushed over- or tried- but a massive Wanderer blocked my path, forcing me to fight it. I tried to get a glimpse of the Hunter, Steve perhaps, to check on them, but by the time I finally defeated the hulking Wanderer, my energy was dangerously low. Steve was no longer on the ground. Someone else must have gotten to them. My vision swimmed.

I knew I had heavy blood loss from all my cuts and gashes. No doubt, that was not helping my light headedness and blurred vision. But it was my heart that hurt the most. With intense pain. My vitals were flashing orange on my watch: “Warning! Hunter, your energy is low! Warning! Hunter, your heart rate is irregular. Please seek out a safe-”

Beep.

“No shit,” I clicked my tongue, shutting off the annoying AI warning voice. I pushed onwards ignoring the warnings to find a safe place or to seek out medical care. People’s lives were in danger. I didn’t have that luxury.

An explosion made me duck as a burning car finally blew up. Today had quickly become a very bad, no good day. I huffed, standing from cover and firing more shots at a Wanderer. It screeched as it disintegrated into metaflux. One more down. Several dozens or more to go. I grit my teeth and pushed on through the pain.

“Y/N! Are you alright?”

I heard Captain Jenna over my comms. No doubt my vitals were going crazy at HQ. “Captain…” My voice felt weird, garbled to my own ears. That couldn’t be good, surely.

“It’s likely another Metaflux explosion will…. occur at your… location….Retreat. I repeat…”

The signal cut in and out. I squinted, pressing the comm to my ear, straining to hear, “Captain? Captain? Can you repeat that?”

“You can’t…. Fighting…. Numbers too…Retreat…”

“Captain?” I hissed at the failed signal as it cut out. I needed to get somewhere where I could get through to HQ. Someone might need help. Using my watch's guidance, I mapped out the best way out.

I was about to head out when I heard a young girl crying. “Help!”

My head spun around searching for the crying. There is another child?!

“Help us!” a woman’s voice called out as well.

There are still people here trapped! I couldn’t just leave them to die. I reloaded and began searching the square trying to stay covered as much as I could until I found them. My vision swam off and on, almost like the world was tilting. Maybe I damaged my inner ear?

Finally, through smoke and dust, I saw an arm waving from the collapsed cafe at the edge of the Square. I sent the coordinates to any nearby Hunters and HQ, calling for backup to help me dig them out. They were okay, but blocked by the fallen entrance. But in the end, danger found me first.

My watch sensed them first. Three alerts popped up in quick succession as three Wanderers appeared. “Threat level: S.” Figures.

“Get back!” I yelled into the collapsed cafe, “Take cover at the back of the cafe. Can you do that?” I yelled orders to them desperately.

“Yes,” the woman called back, “There is a storage room.”

“Hide in there until backup arrives! I am going to lure them away!” I turned back to the Wanderers and jumped and yelled, waving my arms, “Hey! Hey you giant, stupid, big ugly lugs! Look at me! I’m over here!”

The three loud roars of rage signaled that they got the message.

“Oh shit,” I took off running, three giants pounding the ground in pursuit. Good. They took the bait. Unfortunately, the bait was me.

As I ran, I felt my belt for how many bullets and clips I had left. My equipment was low. Too low. And my stamina and energy wouldn’t last much longer, but maybe if I could just draw them far enough away from the civilians in the cafe and keep these three busy until help arrived… maybe then the civilians would be safe. Maybe I’d even manage to take one down with me.

I spotted a clearing in the square. It was all the way on the opposite side, far from the civilians. The perfect place for a last stand.

As I pushed my legs to run faster, I thought of Grandma and Caleb. Maybe I will be seeing them soon? I thought of my teammates and Tara; I hoped they were okay.

I thought of Sylus and his annoying habit of calling me kitten; I’d never admit it but he was growing on me. I’d miss his terrible singing and how he always had my back, no questions asked. I’d even miss his damn gothic chicken.

I thought of Zayne, my childhood and dearest friend currently; he would be devastated and so very mad I didn’t play it safe. I’d miss our meetups for sweets and his sarcastic dry humor and getting him to crack a smile as I sang loudly to songs in the car.

I thought of Rafayel; he would be so heartbroken to lose his favorite bodyguard and adventure buddy. I’d miss his antics and our beach walks and Reddie and trying to guess the song he was humming as he painted until he finally gave up and we’d dance around his studio singing whatever pop tune came to our heads.

Inevitably, as I spun to a stop, guns aimed at the three massive S-class Wanderers coming for me, I thought of Xavier. Of how sweet and peaceful he looked as I last saw him, curled up and sleeping, silver-blonde hair tousled in his sleep. He was gorgeous, painfully so. And I never told him. Never told him what I felt. How my heart skipped and then raced just for him. How his smile was brighter than the sunrise and made me want to spout poetry and listen to love songs. How his gentle touches made heat and longing fill my very being. I thought about how worried he got over me, how protective he was. How he seemed to naturally guard me from harm not because he thought me incapable, but because it was natural, instinctual. I thought of how his face would crumple when he learned that I hadn’t made it this time. Because I wouldn’t. I thought about him and I realized-

I love him.

“Xavier…” a tear slipped down my cheek as I took aim and fired, “I’m sorry.”

A roar filled my ears and my head whipped sideways. When did that Wanderer get over there?!

And then darkness and pain.

My mind seemed to flicker to the past. A memory. All those years ago to before when I was a child. The smell of smoke was the same. The screams and roars of Wanderers.

I clutched my gun and fired towards the Wanderers I knew were around me, hovering nearby, waiting to pounce again. The pain-filled roar of one told me I hit one. They were going to crush me. This was it. My mind played out the nightmare from my past like an overlay on top of the present. It was so similar, but different. This time, I wouldn’t make it, would I?

Dazzling light suddenly surged through the dark haze of my failed vision and in my memory. A shockwave of light blasted through the area. The Wanderers had no place to hide. They dissipate into metaflux dust leaving only the echo of their shrill screeches in the air. Even the distant sounds of fighting stopped.

Just how big was that blast of light? My mind felt woozy as my vision came through as dark shadows and shapes. Another slash of light slashed through the darkness of my vision. Golden light filled the air and poured down like rain, washing away filth. I could hear the pops and screeches of more Wanderers further away.

I blinked trying to focus. I struggled, trying to sit up. I saw a beam of light flashing through the golden speckles of light dancing in the air like fireflies. It is headed towards me like a meteor. Space and time itself appeared to distort around the radiant light. I should likely feel worried. The intense beam was headed for me, but I felt only serenity. My arms gave out and I fell backwards. As I fell, my memory flashed back through my mind– my memory of the past event like this one– suddenly it came through clear and vivid.

Arms caught me; Hands cradled my head just before it hit the concrete. I heard voices exclaiming surprise and shock. People no doubt were drawn out by the spectacle of light that sent the Wanderers away. But all I could see was him.

Dazed, I looked up into the face of the one who caught me and held me embraced into their chest. Something about him was familiar. His energy or perhaps his scent? I blinked away the haze, trying to focus. I saw silvery blonde hair… I think?

“Xa-Xavier?” my voice is barely a whisper.

The figure didn’t answer but merely wiped at blood on my face and at the corner of my mouth. Wishful thinking. He isn’t here. Through my blurry vision, all I could see was a warm gaze, profound as a lake but deep and intense with urgency. Then, I saw it. The mask.

“You!” I gasped.

He swept me off my feet as he carried me up into his arms, then we were in the air. The wind blowing past my face. In my exhaustion, my vision started to blur and darken at the edges again.

“Close your eyes if you're tired,” a soft and warm voice drifted to me through the haze. He cradled my head to his neck as more flashes of radiant light rain down from his blade. I heard cheering from below as the last of the Wanderers were cleared and metaflux fluctuations righted. A glowing moon signalling the user. Lumiere. He had returned, and like 14 years ago, he saved me again.

Sharpness cut through the haze and I gasped in pain. The arm around me tightened. I leaned back to reassure him, but my voice caught in my throat. The pain had cleared my vision. The face before me was crystal clear.

“Xavier?” The pain hit again and I clenched my eyes shut with a hiss. My words cut off and stuck in my throat in exchange for a groan of pain.

“Sleep,” he spoke, cradling my head back into his neck, “Don’t force yourself to stay awake.” His gloved hand brushed over my eyes, and they closed, heavy, as I relaxed in his arms, my guard relinquished at last. And I slipped into a world of sweet darkness.

I came to sometime later. The moon was in the sky.

“Does it hurt?”

I turned my head and saw Xavier bandaging my hand.

“I did some first aid,” he continued softly, concern sitting heavy on his brow. “The roads are still a wreck right now. I will take you to the hospital for a thorough examination later when I can get through.”

I turned my head the other way towards the sounds of people talking and crying. They sounded far but close at the same time. It was then I realized that we were on a rooftop. Down below, Azure Square was reduced to ruble. Rescue workers ran around searching for who needed immediate help. People were looking for loved ones. It was a mess. Camera crews and journalists had also arrived, trying to get the latest updates.

Xavier’s small huff of a laugh drew my attention back. His grin was tiny as he looked at me softly in amusement, “Don’t worry. The people in the cafe are safe.”

My brows smoothed. He knew me so well. I had been wondering about them.

“And there aren’t any other casualties,” his face fell slightly, his hand brushed away a strand of hair from my face, “You’re the only one who is severely injured.”

I studied his face. The contours of it etched into my heart, but now that I am seeing them again, they seem shrouded in unfamiliar shadows. Secrets.

“Why are you here?” I asked at last.

He looked down, away from my gaze, “Who else were you expecting to see?” He deflected my question as he busied himself with my wounds again.

I was tired. Tired of the secrets. I pressed, likely for the first time, I truly pressed, “But how did you get here?” The image of him curled up asleep in that pod flashed in my mind. “Are you okay now?”

“I slept well, so I am fully recovered.”

“How? You practically shut down in the no-hunt zone… Then there was that pod and those syringes-”

He sighed, “You’re the one who needs to be cared for right now.” He gently pushed my shoulder, forcing me to lay back again.

I obeyed with a huff and then winced in pain.

He tsked, a small sigh leaving his mouth as he worried over the bandages he had placed over various wounds. My side seemed to worry him in particular.

I felt the urge to explain how I got so bad, “It was urgent. I had to–”

“I only know that if I had been even a second later, I would’ve lost you. Forever.” Though his tone was flat.

“...No,” I tried to relieve that heaviness that settled on his shoulders, “that’s not- Don’t underestimate me. I’ve always been lucky.” I gently took his hand in mine, “14 years ago, Lumiere saved my life. And this time…” I looked into Xavier’s eyes. “Lumiere saved me again. I must be the luckiest person alive.”

His eyes studied my face, his expression calm aside from the storm of emotions swirling in his gaze. “You might just feel lucky…” he spoke, as his hand reached out to brush dirt from my face, gently, fingers lingering, “But for me, it’s a wonderful blessing.”

The sounds of the news screens below reach our ears. Lumiere is declared the savior of the day's events and the one who vanquished the Wanderers. It is also suggested that he was the one who cleared up the odd anomaly from a few days ago with the apocalyptic storm.

I glanced over to Xavier to see his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down. I hated seeing him troubled. And the news wasn’t exactly a good thing. I remembered the wanted posters in the Nest. Lumiere- Xavier could be in danger if anyone found out.

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, “I am sure that news of Lumiere’s return will be all anyone talks about in the morning.” I smiled at him teasingly. He was lost in thought for a moment, then suddenly scooped me up into his lap. I squeaked in alarm and scrambled to wrap my arms around his neck, “Xavier, what the hell?”

He chuckled, holding me to his chest. “We should hurry.”

I blinked, “Why?”

“We need to get to the hospital. Otherwise, everyone will be rushing over after dawn to catch a glimpse of Lumiere.” He hesitated, glancing down at me, “Your doctor…”

“Dr. Zayne?”

He nodded, “You trust him?”

“I’ve known him since we were children.”

“But you trust him.”

“With my life… quite literally,” I grinned, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Xavier’s tense expression didn’t shift as he held my gaze before looking down to the fray below us. His eyes were troubled, and I realized what he was getting at. I held his face between my palms, “Hey, look at me.” I smiled softly as his blue-blue gaze fell back on mine, “Zayne is a good person. He wouldn’t put anyone at risk.”

He frowned, lower lip pouting slightly, “Zayne?”

“Doctor Zayne,” I squished his cheeks slightly grinning at his pout, “but I would never want you to feel uncomfortable. If you can get me close enough, somewhere secret and hidden nearby, I can make it into the hospital myself.”

His pout fell into a flat look, “You’re wheezing.”

“What?”

He leaned his cheek slightly more into my palms, “Your breathing has a slight wheeze to it. I’m not letting you walk anywhere.”

“Xavier, Lumiere is wanted. You can’t be see-”

He shook his head resolutely, “You likely have a broken rib pressing into your lung. Your heart is also erratic.”

“The heart part is nothing.” His gaze darkened deeper into worry at that, but I waved it off trying to ease his stress, “I’m used to that. And I can breathe fine, see?” I tried to take a deep breath and gasped as a sharp pain tore through my rib cage and chest, “F-fuck!”

Xavier’s eyes went wide, frantic. He called my name, standing. His arms tightened around me, “If you trust your doctor… then I will too.”

“Wha-”

“I will never leave you all alone. Ever,” His voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for debate. Pressing me closer, his lips brushed my forehead, “You might get dizzy. Hold on tight.”

I pressed my face into his neck and let my eyes close, taking in his scent. For a while back there, in the fighting, I was sure that I would never see him again. My arms tightened around him slightly at the thought. Now, though, he had come and saved me. My masked hero, Lumiere. My knight, my prince charming, Xavier.

I smiled into his neck. Xavier, Thank you. Before I could react, the world around me started to spin again, “Ugh.”

His chuckle reached my ear, raising goose bumps along my arms as his breath tickled at my ear, “I warned you.”

“Menace,” I hissed, earning another chuckle.

The world stabilized and we were in a familiar office. I blinked, lifting my head from Xavier’s neck. My bewildered eyes met equally bewildered green eyes from his spot behind his desk. He appeared to have stopped in his movements to collect something. His hair was slightly a mess, showing how busy the hospital was with the attack. He looked frazzled, or as frazzled as Zayne ever looked.

Zayne looked from me to Xavier who still held me. His sharp, analytical eyes taking in Xavier’s clothing and widening just barely as recognition hit him. His eyes narrowed as he looked over my form. His hands clenched at his sides, the temperature dropping in the room as he made to step forward.

Xavier’s voice level but firm cut through the tension, “You are her doctor, yes? Dr. Zayne, correct?”

Zayne gave a slight nod. He looked to me, uncertain, seeking a question with his eyes. When I smiled slightly and waved my fingers in the air, the tension drained out of his stance and he sighed, sounding over my antics already. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “And you are her partner, the Hunter…” He looked Xavier up and down, “or should I call you Lumi-”

“Xavier is his name.” My voice cut in, drawing two pairs of eyes. “Just Xavier, Dr. Zayne,” I repeated. The message clear. This knowledge wouldn’t leave this room.

Zayne gave a slight shake of his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Very well.” Zayne appeared not entirely happy with the situation.

Xavier looked down at me with his brows raised, from surprise or what, I wasn’t certain. I gave his shoulder a small squeeze in an awkward hug, I was, afterall, still being held in his arms. It was sort of hard to hug him like this, but my reassurance worked because his face softened as he looked at me.

Zayne let out a sigh and moved to us, “I can take it from here… Xavier. Let me see her.” He reached out to take from Xavier’s arms, who took a half step back. Zayne rose a singular black brow.

I huffed, “Guys, I can walk.”

“Not on my watch.” “I think not.”

I frowned at both of them as they frowned at each other.

“I’m not leaving her,” Xavier declared.

“Xavier…” I sighed, annoyance at the lack of independence leaving me and concern for Xavier taking its place, “You can’t be seen. Lumiere buzz is everywhere and you very obviously,” I flicked his earring, “Are wearing his clothes.”

“No one has ever connected the dots before,” he argued even as he relaxed his hold slightly. I knew I was getting through to him.

“Yes, well, people are stupid,” I scoffed.

“Y/N,” Zayne chidded.

“What! It is true! What is this? A Superman movie? Take off the mask and POOF where’d Lumiere go?” I squeezed Xavier’s face between my palms and turned it towards Zayne, “Look at him and tell me it is not obvious!”

Zayne did in fact eye Xavier before tilting his head slightly and begrudgingly admitting, “Point made.”

I turned back to Xavier’s face, “See?”

Xavier’s eyes wavered. Something deep in those pools of azure rippled with some unknown fear and pain, “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

The breath in my chest froze as he pinned me with those eyes. I felt the strangest sense of panic, desperation, and longing fill my chest; my arms tightened around his neck slightly, as though afraid if I didn’t hold on, he’d slip away into the stars and be gone from me forever.

“I think,” Zayne’s voice made me jolt suddenly pulling from that odd magnetic pull I had felt, “It would be best for all parties if I took it from here.” He looked to Xavier, who looked solemn. Zayne seemed to regard him differently than he had mere moments before. “Unless, of course, you wish to have all of the hospital and soon the media aware that Lumiere is here and just who he brought… single handedly… personally.” His eyes flicked to me pointedly.

Zayne was right, of course. If anyone found out that the legendary hero Lumiere had brought a woman to the hospital himself, the media would be in a frenzy spinning love stories, and I would be the target for their attention. I knew from Rafayel how much of a nightmare that could be.

And Xavier knew it too from the way his shoulders slumped as his eyes averted briefly before fixing onto Zayne firmly. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his chin up briefly. His tone was firm, a slight sharp edge to it, “Do you want to get that under control then, Doctor?”

Zayne’s eyes fell to his hands where crystalline shapes had creeped up from his wrists. He looked slightly surprised and chagrined about it. As he shook them slightly, tiny snowflakes fell to the ground, the ice of his evol receding.

“Really, guys,” I interrupted, “I can walk.”

“You have a punctured lung,” Xavier stated matter-of-factly. “And you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ll likely need an infusion.”

Zayne tsked, sweeping in, clearly over my ‘nonsense’ as he called my stubbornness, and gently took me from Xavier’s arms. The crystals were gone, but in their place, he looked absolutely unamused, “How did you manage this?”

I opened my mouth to retort that it was my job when Xavier spoke up.

“She was holding down the Square… single handedly.”

Zayne’s gaze fell to me sharply as mine snapped to Xavier, “Traitor.”

Xavier’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. My eyes narrowed. He looked to Zayne, “You will take care of her until I get back.”

Zayne looked at him as though he was dim, “I will look after her regardless of your return.”

I frowned, Zayne was being even more blunt than usual.

Xavier ignored it and looked back to me, “I will take care of everything. Just recover. I will be here when you get out.”

“What?” He had that look on him, the one he wore on missions, “Xavier? What are you-”

Zayne let out a tired sounding sigh and made for the door, “I trust you can find your way out?” He said to Xavier, but the flash of light behind us signaled Xavier’s exit.

Prying my eyes from the spot Xavier had just left from, I opened my mouth to insist on walking again, but he cut me off as he kicked the door to his office open.

“You have any other interesting friends I should be aware of?”

I scoffed, my head lulling as the tiredness and dizziness set back in as the adrenaline drained out of me. If you only knew.

“Nurse!” I heard him call out as he began calling out orders to his team. But I had slipped back into the black of unconsciousness. My final thought was on Xavier, and how I had gotten my wish to see him again after all. And I got to see my childhood hero as well. My partner- neighbor- crush was secretly a superhero.

What an odd day.

I woke up to the annoyingly familiar sounds of medical machinery beeping. My vision was blurry as I blinked my eyes open, pulling my face from the sterile smelling pillow it was stuck to. My mouth felt like cotton. I smacked slightly trying to get moisture back in. My vision cleared and all I saw was red.

Well, red roses. Lots of red roses in crystal vases with black satin ribbons tied around them dotted around my room on every surface available. Or at least, every surface not filled with bouquets of fire lilies mixed with exotic looking purple, blue and pink flowers sprinkled with white baby’s breath. Those sat in crystal vases of their own. I blinked, sitting up and grabbing a card from each. I opened the red envelope first.

(Translated: Kitten, A little birdy told me that you had gone and gotten yourself injured playing hero. We really need to have a talk about you and your martyr complex. It is vexing. Be a good kitten and be patient. Allow yourself to heal. I am a call away if you need me. As for the ones responsible for your injury- I am on it. Yours Truly, S)

I scoffed out a small laugh, shaking my head as I set the card down and looked at all the roses. I had no doubt before who they came from, but now I knew for sure. His line about the ones responsible made me pause. Did Sylus know who the ones were that were causing those suped-up Wanderers to appear? What was he going to do about it? I made a note to message him when I found my phone.

With a sigh, I moved onto the purple envelope. It had a slightly iridescent sheen to it, making hints of blues and pink shine out in the light. I smiled softly, fingers tracing the shell shaped wax seal. I knew who wrote this one, even before unfolding the expensive feeling paper. The looping hand of the calligraphy inside fit the man who wrote it.

(Translated: Miss Bodyguard, The sunset has lost its magic. The fishes of the reef are complaining so loudly that I am losing sleep– their friend that walked the beaches hasn’t been by and won't be for a while! I had to tell them the news to get them to give me a moment's peace. My inspiration is all dried up like a desert. How could you get so injured like this and leave me all alone to my own defenses? How shall I survive being apart from you? I will shrivel up and die of loneliness like a starfish stranded all alone in too small a tide pool. Will you take responsibility? Who will help me find the perfect shell for my collection? I started a new one, ya know? Got a whole new crystal vase for it and everything. So… you have to get better soon and help me find more shells to keep it company, yeah? You’ve really got to learn to not face things on your own, yeah? These hands aren’t just for painting. You have me, ya know? I’ve heard whispers. Rumors. I do have connections, ya know? I know who let all of those monsters out– the ones that hurt you. The ones responsible will learn- The sea never forgets those that cast offenses against its own. Eternally Yours, Rafayel)

I frowned. What did he mean ‘These hands aren’t just for painting’? Sure, I knew that there was more to Rafayel than most realized; he did have connections to the Nest, but I couldn’t help the worry that filled my heart at his words. His words about the sea never forgetting sounded especially concerning. What in the world was that fish planning?

I needed to get out of here. I needed to get to the bottom of this mess before more people I cared about got hurt. I sat up and began peeling the tape of an I.V. off my arm.

“I highly recommend that you stop doing that.”

My head whipped to the otherside of the bed, the side not filled with flowers by the door. There in a chair looking suspiciously like he had been dozing shortly before now sat Zayne. I eyed the empty coffee cups on the bed tray next to us both and fixed him with an accusatory look, “Have you been here all day? You have to have been busy with the disaster. Go take a break. I will be fine.”

He grunted noncommittally as he stood, reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. He pressed it over my heart, green eyes narrowed with focus as he watched the monitor. It seemed he didn’t trust it to report completely; his shoe tapped on the tile of the hospital room floor along with my pulse as he counted. Satisfied, he finally met my gaze, “Mhm,” he nodded slightly, “And all that night until this morning. Your… partner was quite clear about you being left alone.” His eyes went to the tape I had begun to peel, one brow raising as he fished tape from the pocket of his white coat and fixed it. He looked at me pointedly, “It seems he knows you nearly as well as I do.”

I sat back a bit dazed, “All night and this morning…? How long have I been out?”

Zayne looked at his watch, “Well, the hunter-”

“Xavier.”

“-brought you in at around 7:47pm last night. Roughly… 1.25 hrs after the Square incident was ended-”

“By him.”

“So, that would mean you’ve been here getting the care you needed for about 41.55 hours or 1.73 days, give or take a few minutes.”

“What?” My brain hurt and I could tell he was ticked, whether it was at me or Xavier, that I didn’t know. “Zayne, talk to me like I’m dumb. How long have I been here?”

“You’re not dumb.”

“Let’s pretend I am,” I rubbed a hand over my face, “I have been here for over a day?”

“Almost 42 hours.”

“42-” I stopped and eyed him fiddling with the way my IV laid. My eyes narrowed, “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Wh- Why!?” No wonder he was tissy, “You need rest too! You have to take better care of yourself.”

The glare he leveled at me was almost icy but definitely put out. He picked up my chart and flipped through it:

“Your rib wasn’t broken, but two were cracked. You likely coughed up blood due to the nasty bite to your tongue, which we found during examination. Your CT scan showed a mild concussion. I concluded that your main injuries were likely from a blunt and heavy force trauma hitting you from the right- something akin to but not exactly like a small compact car colliding with your person- causing the cracked ribs. You had whiplash of the neck to match this idea and a bump on the back of your head as well, likely from the impact and the subsequent landing of your skull to the concrete. You also had a slight sprain of your right ankle and wrist. Your heart was also in tachycardia and very nearly gave the whole heart team on call a very busy night indeed.”

My jaw snapped shut with an audible click and I plopped back on my bed. Pain radiated from my side and I winced, hand going over it to feel bandages.

Zayne clicked his tongue. He set the chart back down and set about fixing the pillow behind my head. He continued, though his tone was less harsh, softer, more worried. I felt awful for how scared he must've been, “You had to have a total of 24 stitches. Try not to twist they are on your left side. Your Hunter friend, Xavier, was it?” I nodded. “He was correct. You did need an infusion...Two, in fact. One gash hit your intercostal arteries and another cut through a majority of your lumbar arteries branching below your ribs. It is a lot of blood flow, but... " He leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the pillow. His jaw ticked as he added, "Thankfully, no major artery was hit or you would have bled out during the 1.25 hrs that he delayed your care.”

“He didn’t delay my care on purpose,” I sighed feeling tired. Tired of his prickling mood, tired because I knew he was just worried and that made me feel like shit, tired from the emotions of the day before, and tired from the meds I was surely on. “I passed out, but I woke up. He had stopped the bleeding. And I honestly did not feel so bad.”

“I’m sure his… secret identity needing to remain a secret had nothing to do with it,” Zayne’s eye leveled with mine.

I shook my head, “No. Not at all. It wasn’t until I started trying to move around that we both realized it was worse than we thought, and he immediately insisted on bringing me here, whether he was seen or not. It was me that had to convince him to be careful, otherwise he would’ve teleported us right in the middle of the Emergency Department or the OR itself.” I chuckled a bit at the thought of the nurses exclaiming as Lumiere appeared in a flash of light. I thought back to those last moments when I thought I was about to die. My voice shook slightly, “He saved my life, Zayne. I really thought I was going to die down there at the end.”

Zayne’s hand fell over mine on my blanket. He gave it a small squeeze, “If that is true... then I suppose, I owe him my thanks.”

I chuckled softly, “Whatever for? Saving your most difficult patient?”

“Hn,” he shook his head slightly, “For saving my childhood friend. My... dearest friend.”

I smiled at him at that, giving his hand a squeeze, “We’ve known each other a long time, huh?”

His mouth twitched in a near smile, as though he knew something I didn't. He glanced to the side and chuckled, “It almost feels like eternity.”

I grinned, chuckling softly as well. Curious, I asked, “Hey Zayne?”

“Hm?” He looked back. His expression back to the softer Zayne I usually knew when it was just us.

“What made you want to become a doctor?”

“My father.” His eyes darted to the side however.

“Zaaayne,” I whined playfully and wiggled his hand still in mine, “No, really. Why a heart doctor? Come on. It’s just me. I won't judge you or think it's lame. I promise.”

He sighed, “Very well… Once, when I was over playing with Caleb, I heard your Grandmother talking.” He paused, eyeing me hesitantly before continuing. “You had been sick. Very sick for a while. It was not too long after she brought you home. I’m not sure if you remember.”

“I do.” I had been terribly sick then. So much so that many of my memories were lost.

He nodded, “Well, I heard then that it was your heart making you sick. Then you got better… and I got to know you. But sometimes… sometimes you’d get sick again. Never that bad but bad. Your Grandma always tried to look brave in front of Caleb and me, but we knew. It was then that I decided.”

My eyes widened, “You became a Cardiac Surgeon because of me?”

“Of course,” the green of his eyes looked intense and vivid as he stared back, “I wanted to be the one to save you. Of course I did, for you.”

“Zayne…” I trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. What could you say to something like that?

He tore his eyes away from mine and looked around the room. “Is it really so surprising? You have a way of making me care for you.” His eyes were soft and warm as they met mine again, “It is my honor to be able to help you in this way. If I could do it over, I would do the same.”

My eyes watered and I leaned up, throwing my arms around his neck, "Well that's not lame at all! That's so impossibly sweet."

“Careful,” He said but hugged me gently back. His ears were red.

“You are amazing, Zayne, you know that? I am so, so glad that we reconnected. I wish we never lost touch at all.”

His arms tightened just slightly, “I feel the same.”

I pulled back and couldn’t help the warm smile on my face, “You are such a good friend.”

He blinked a moment and at first I thought I had said something wrong, but then he smiled back, “I will always be here for you. As long as it makes you happy.”

I grinned, “It does.”

He feigned a sigh, “It is settled then. You are stuck with me.”

“Darn it,” I teased.

He chuckled, before looking more serious, “I do have a request.”

“What is it?”

“I… I know it is your job. I understand what it is to have a career that can push you. But I must insist that you not push yourself so far. You were the only hunter to sustain this level and amount of injuries. Everyone else pulled back and allowed a replacement to go in.”

I had to look away from his searching green eyes. The pain in them made a cloud of guilt swell in my gut.

“Why do you have to take such unnecessary risks?” He leaned his elbows on the edge of the bed, “Please. Help me understand.”

“I had planned to find a safe place to go.” My mind replayed the scene. “Captain Jenna was trying to tell me something, but the signal was bad. I was heading out but then I heard them…”

“Who?”

“A Mother and child. They were trapped behind the entrance of a cafe that collapsed.” I shook my head, “I knew I needed help and sent word but then these three huge Wanderers just appeared, almost like out of thin air.”

Zayne brows furrowed, “They didn’t give off a metaflux surge?”

“They did, but it was almost instantaneous with their appearance.”

“That seems… unnatural.”

“I think… it was…” my eyes met his, “I have not made my report yet though. There will have to be an investigation…”

“But you think something or someone caused this?”

“... Yes, I do.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbed his face. “I guess… it is a good thing then.”

“Huh?”

“That Lumiere is back. Or at least, that he came back for this. For you.”

"I don't think it was just for me," face heating, I looked into my lap deep in thought.

Zayne hummed, "Perhaps."

I thought about the odd Wanderers in the Square then earlier on set. And about those guys cornering Xavier in that alley. I frowned. What was going on?

“Promise me that you won't do anything rash,” He caught my gaze, “Let the proper channels do their work. We’ve…both of us…have already lost. Let’s not add to that list.”

My chest panged at that. It was true. Zayne lost Caleb, just as I had. I nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

He smiled a soft smile at that then stood, glancing at his watch, “Well, I suppose I should get started on your paperwork.”

My eyes lit up, “I’m going home!?”

He tutted, “You will be after 8 tonight.” I groaned at that and he shook his head, brow raised, “I only agreed to that because your partner assured me that you would not so much as lift a finger for the next two to three weeks if I released you to his care.”

“You… What?” I blinked, “Two to three weeks!”

“Cracked ribs, Y/N. You Association will determine the exact length, but I have submitted my suggestions as your Doctor,” he reminded me, “Now then, he will be here after 8. Since you are being released I figured that it wouldn’t be too bad if I brought you something to eat.”

“You mean I don’t have to eat hospital food!” I laughed at his huff, “Even you have to admit it is awful.”

“The choices can be… limited.”

I scoffed, “The food tastes like cardboard or salt cakes and there is no in-between.”

That earned a chuckle. He was trying not to grin as he suggested, “Your favorite from the nearby cafe?”

“YES.”

A snort.

I grinned, “You just snorted.”

“... You’re high. It’s the meds.”

“Zayne!”

“Oh look, I’m being paged…”

“Zayne! You are off duty! You’re not even wearing a badge!” I laughed at his retreating figure, “Wait, Zayne! Come back I wont tease you about it! Snorting when you laugh is cute!”

“Just for that, no dessert.”

“You’re evil.”

“Just petty.”

“Zayne!”

This one took me a WHILE. I think it is the longest chapter so far and I almost chopped it in half AGAIN (originally this was part of chapter 4!)

The guys letters gave me trouble. I couldn't figure out how to include their handwriting and really wanted to. IDK how the heck to do code in tumblr, so I just made the letters into images and included translations for those that have a hard time with loopy fonts or that use accommodations. If you still had an issue, let me know and I will help you out by sending the letter text in a different way or something. I want to be inclusive and am open to tips!

I personally loved this chapter. I loved adding more intimate moments between Xavier and "Us". I let "Y/N" have more of a voice and I think I am having more fun with this than I even was before. Hopefully, you all are liking how she is coming across.

This chapter was also a bit of a love letter to Zayne. While he is not my main now, he was way I started playing and will always have a special place in my heart just for him. I hope he wasn't too ooc. Poor Zayne was *stressed* and suspicious for a lot of this. Still, I am comfortable (I think) with how it came out in the end.

Let me know what you all thought of this one! Did you like Sylus and Rafayel's letters? Anything you didn't like? Give me the DEETS.

Tag list:

@xxfaithlynxx @moonsavior @2kyute2poot @yournextdoorhousewitch @sapphoslostkid @ivohex @cherimoyatea @sandy2848582 @adorezhi @animecrazy76

As always, thank you for your support and for reading! Please comment to be added to the list!

#lads xavier #xavier x you #xavier x mc #lads zayne #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier fluff #xavier x reader #lads rafayel #lads sylus #~Threads of Eternity #love and deepspace #my writing

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lincolndjarin · 2 years ago

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.”

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor.

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him.

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive.

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table.

You know you don’t have to.

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him?

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him.

So to think about if you love him?

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home.

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps.

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin.

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face.

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone.

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.”

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues.

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.”

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all.

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love.

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back.

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.”

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t.

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you.

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple.

Are you still breathing?

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal.

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.”

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?”

You know what he’s really asking.

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves.

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders.

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess.

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours.

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised.

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Well, thought.

Do you love him?

Do you want to love him?

Loving him means too much.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself.

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk.

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed.

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal.

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold.

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t.

And you can’t even seem to figure that out.

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference.

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him.

Is that love?

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point.

You’re a prisoner.

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest.

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep.

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response.

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast.

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone.

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do.

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once.

“Din?”

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction.

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this.

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you.

“What’s it like, to love someone?”

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you.

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.”

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.”

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet.

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin.

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.”

Right before he had ended things.

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it.

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.”

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head.

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din.

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him.

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt.

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat.

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker.

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last.

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare.

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this.

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first.

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?”

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that.

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?”

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach.

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden.

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer.

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip.

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned.

“Of course.”

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.”

What a strange thing to say.

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement.

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that.

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun.

“About?”

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down.

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.”

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that.

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours.

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens.

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned.

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat.

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you.

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item.

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like?

Green, you, the kid, classic ships.

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though.

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator.

Suddenly you have his attention.

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you.

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals.

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex.

Two instances come to mind.

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids.

Things a normal couple might do.

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs.

Thick, padded, and metal.

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand.

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.”

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate.

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off.

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response.

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine.

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now.

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name.

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too.

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance.

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it.

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.)

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that.

You want to show him what he deserves.

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at.

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away.

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little.

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away.

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist.

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles.

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one.

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?”

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter.

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet.

“Can I?” You whisper.

After a moment's hesitation he nods.

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift.

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek.

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back.

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie.

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out.

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life.

A home.

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers.

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs.

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of.

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer.

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla.

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace.

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually.

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from?

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap.

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now.

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens.

If you don’t mean it.

So you were right.

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this.

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything.

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day.

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod.

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist.

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?”

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.”

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise.

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you.

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison.

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night.

“So you liked one of my offers?”

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants.

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder.

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip.

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place.

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.”

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat.

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow.

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head.

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck.

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear.

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.”

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.”

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?”

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind.

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that.

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach.

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair.

“I know.”

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?”

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him.

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?”

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.”

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself.

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.”

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up.

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has.

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet.

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it.

And he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle.

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps.

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it.

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly.

Din immediately drops your hand.

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice.

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it.

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown.

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection.

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice.

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort.

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying.

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you.

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor.

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din.

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

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dekariosclan · 23 days ago

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Hello there! First of, I absolutely love how you characterized Gale in ever way and in every circumstances. I love reading these headcanons and scenarios on your blog everytime I visit. I was kinda wondering how you think Gale would handle if their partner is a descendant of a noble line that was lost from centuries? Like I have my tav be one of those lost nobles and they're always in a constant threat of being hunted down or having a mission to reclaim their birthrite?

Heavy ask I'm sorry, I'm struggling how to write him in a sense qwq. Do you think Gale would prefer to just be in the sidelines or would he rather risk his home aside and be with tav? Thank you for taking the time to read this qwq, love your writings always. <3

Anon, thank you so much for your kind words!! That’s very sweet of you ❤️

I know you said you sent this in while you were struggling to write Gale, so I do apologize if it’s taken me so long to answer that you’ve already finished your story. But if you do still happen to be writing it—hopefully this answer will help!

I’m very confident that Gale Dekarios, the man who, if he romances Karlach, will eagerly join her fighting in the Hells and declare Avernus to have “a certain charm” to it, would not blink an eye at risking his home/life/etc to be with his beloved Tav. If anything, based on how Gale “Danger” Dekarios faces most adventures, he would find it quite enjoyable and invigorating! Who cares if he’s being hunted by demons/monsters/assassins if it means he gets to be with his beloved? Give up Tav for a life of safety?! Pish-posh!

Yes, Gale would have enjoyed living a comfortable life in his Tower—but comfort can’t compare to the happiness he feels when he’s with Tav, regardless of what their situation is.

At the end of the game, if Tav accepts his marriage proposal, Gale will immediately give up living in Waterdeep and agree to live elsewhere because “Waterdeep wouldn’t be home without you anyway.”

Or if Tav wishes to say in Baldur’s Gate, Gale will propose and ask to stay, stating, “…I fear if I return to Waterdeep alone, my heart would remain here with you.”

Gale truly, more than anything, just wants to be with his beloved Tav. And if he has to fight like hell (or fight IN hell) to make that happen? So be it.

And in your Tav’s particular case? I can see Gale being particularly tickled at the prospect of searching & researching & studying their ancestry! Oh, my goodness, can you imagine?!

I can just picture Tav worriedly explaining to Gale that they are from a noble line, their life is in danger, they need to learn more about their past, it’s written somewhere but they haven’t a clue where to start, if Gale chooses to stay with them it’s going to be terribly dangerous, etc, etc…

While Gale, with his head bowed, listens to it all, before finally taking both of Tav’s hands in his and replying somberly, “…I see. A grave situation indeed. Do you know what this means for us, my love?”

And Tav feels a stab of fear that Gale will, understandably, bow out of the relationship…

Until Gale raises his head, an expression of pure joy on his face, and says, gleefully: “It means book shopping is in order!”

#Gale “Danger” Dekarios strikes again 😂#thanks for the ask anon!#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #answered ask

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catenary-chad · 5 months ago

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When you actually Americanize Starlight Express, Electra suddenly becomes a Reaganite boogeyman of Amtrak as a “welfare queen”- A “Dark Side of the (T)Rainbow” esque fascinating synchronicity

(Yes, that term is racially loaded and I am using it very deliberately for reasons to be explained later.)

MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I was way too wishy washy on this in the original version of the post (which got picked up by some bigger names and spread around) so I want to make this very clear. This is all a giant “Immer Pünktlich!” situation where the original creators could have never foreseen how it comes off wildly different in another country. Most of the traits discussed here were not present in the workshop version of the character. They just arose later on mainly through pure coincidence. I am VERY aware of Electra’s original intent and origins. I would be astounded if Brits in the 80s knew this much about the long-suffering US passenger rail network, even most Americans today don’t know if they don’t actually ride these trains or live in the northeast. Starlight’s central themes of bootstrapping and “being under your own control” are associated with conservatives like Thatcher and Reagan, but that’s basically it in terms of actually intended elements. This is a wild reinterpretation of things by someone with a wildly different viewpoint than the original creatives.

People often make fun of how Electra makes such a big deal of being electric and futuristic when electric trains are just kind of the norm in most countries with substantial rail networks. But when you take into account that toothpaste-era Electra is considerably Amtrak-coded and look into the politics and railroad history of what they’d be like irl…. Their framing goes from kind of stupid to pointedly malicious in oddly specific ways.

You know what else WAS the norm in the US (and still is in much of Europe) until Reagan started treating it as a radical freak? The big bad “liberal agenda” of the government actually funding things like social programs and infrastructure, including railroads. And you know what kind of trains are almost completely dependent on that kind of government support? Electric ones. EVERY SINGLE REPLICA NATIONAL represents a country that (at least circa the 80s) had a nationalized rail network that actually invested in electrification. It’s not impossible for private companies to fully fund themselves but very hard, especially now.

Who are “electric train politics” heavily associated with in the US? Black people, LGBT people, damn near every minority, which coincidentally, Electra regularly was early on.

You may not realize this if you’re from elsewhere, but the US has very, very little rail electrification vs other rich countries. You have some commuter rail and local transit systems in a number of cities, the Northeast Corridor and Keystone Corridor, and that’s…. about it. Intercity service between a line of the big northeastern cities and that’s it. The rest is all diesel domain irl. Behold the wikipedia page for electrified lines in the US and see just how many are GONE. (Passenger service is also absolutely threadbare if not nonexistant in most of the non-electric network and often offensively slow, not even local road speed. But that’s a whole separate can of worms)

Why is this? Heavy simplification, but the government subsidized highways and airports instead after WWII and that along with antiquated laws and losing mail service made passenger rail a massive money pit for most the railroads forced to continue it. Instead of passenger rail service and infrastructure improving like basically all the other Nationals’ countries, routes dropped like flies and many railroads sank into financial ruin until Penn Central’s collapse in the late 60s. That’s when the government finally stepped in and took over passenger services as Amtrak. Electrification infrastructure and equipment was dated then due to years of desperate finances, and while there was active rail investment in the 70s to improve, Reagan’s administration was hostile to it and it’s been an on and off uphill battle since to get enough funding to keep things going, let alone improve or expand. Literally left decades behind by the system. The 2013 tour is the most accurate version of Electra as a realistic reflection of electric passenger rail in the US- a guy who’s been at it since the 80s that still looks like a decades-old vision of the future in a notably cheap, torn up, worn out costume. Actually the AEM-7 locomotives used then date to 1978, even older than that.

“Electra must be rich” sounds like something a stingy conservative politician would say about Amtrak needing billions of dollars (to just be barely functional due to years of neglect). Yes, they were intended to be a celebrity for separate reasons early on, but the massive contrast between being shown as “rich” but representing an infamously NOT rich rail system really feels like something a nasty conservative politician would try as a smear campaign in another timeline. Oooo handouts bad. Oooo you must be so extravagant if you need that much. You “welfare queen” sucking government funds to blow on exotic pets and glitter and other frivolities. You “strapping young buck buying T-bone steaks with food stamps”. Those are Reagan’s quotes, not mine, I hate even typing them out but god, can it be more obvious? Painting those who need government assistance (usually coded as black) as extravagant has been weaponized to destroy social programs and further inequality. The gap between Electra and reality always felt kind of jarring for me, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized how much uglier the implications were.

“Or unreliable”- electric trains have so few moving parts they tend to be notably reliable in terms of the physical locomotive/multi unit*. A lot of their issues are actually due to structural failures with powerlines, and this is ESPECIALLY true with the NEC and other ooold electric commuter lines in the US. This has also limited the maximum speed of trains at times. See video below for more on this, also explains a lot of the stuff I’ve mentioned earlier. Huh. Gee whiz. Someone held back and suffering due to structural problems being blamed as personal failing. What DOES that sound like?

youtube

*technically CC 40104 used as Electra’s helmet actually was an unreliable model because it was a weird complicated niche thing with four voltages for a uniquely European situation but that’s downright cherry picking. The other Nez Casse engines with that styling actually were reasonably reliable and realistic Amtrak Electra from the 80s to 2018 would be an AEM-7 (common fanon choice too) that was also fine.

When you think about it, the likes of “only you have the power within you” and “needn’t beg the world to turn around and help you” might be the most offensive things you could say specifically to an electric train in the US besides“lol they shoulda replaced your line with even moar I-95 lanes”

Anyways, isn’t it funny how people conveniently ignore how steam preservation was actually very popular (compared to almost any other obsolete tech) in the 80s and had been since at least the 60s? You had steam engines pulling the 1976 Freedom Train. A small, relatively “young”, mechanically functional steam engine would have tourist railroads FIGHTING over them back then. That was the era when the majority of the steam engines left in Barry Scrapyard were scooped up and preserved, Crown Metal Company was making new build ones for amusement parks, and some tourist railroads even bought new builds from the last company in China building steam engines for regular service.

But you know what did go out of favor in the late 30s and was treated as downright laughable to go back to after the 50s, just like the regular revenue use of steam locos in the US?

The kind of small-government conservatism Reagan preached. And the steam engines in the show promote. Barry Goldwater was openly mocked for it in the mid-60s. It was thought genuinely unthinkable to go back to.

So, those laughably historically inaccurate depictions of electric and steam engines. Isn’t it uncanny how near-perfectly those unrealistic traits of them align with other things?

Also a funny aside: probably 90% of those new build Crown Metal steam engines were dressed up in western themes. Literally cowboy actors, just like Reagan was.

(I’ve got an extended unhinged analysis of Starlight accidentally resembling the rise of Reaganism and it unexpectedly spreading world over and destroying everyone else’s railroads too. That’s still in progress though. But these two aspects are so freakishly dead-on I really needed to get them out.)

#stex electra #stex #starlight express #yeah this’ll piss people off but i’m even surprised by how much historical justification this angle has #the sad story of american electrified rail really should be known more than it is. It’s a real cautionary tale #it’s telling that i’ve seen multiple big boys and centennials but i don’t think i’ve ever seen a GG1 OC #(besides my own that I haven’t actually posted publicly)

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genderqueerdykes · 4 months ago

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wrt to the height thing, if you’re from elsewhere please try to extend empathy and do the mental conversion to height wherever you’re from. Like a trans man in America being 5’3 is six inches shorter than the cis man average and an inch shorter than the cis woman average. So if you’re from, say, Japan where cis man average is 5’7 and cis woman average is 5’2 then that’s equivalent to this person being 5’1. It’s the divergence from expected average not the explicit height that’s important and what you can relate to. I know Americans have a reputation for being very america-centric and just ~assuming~ that our norms are universal, but the way to fix that isn’t chastising people expressing pain at the transphobia they face for things they cannot change about themselves that diverge from what’s expected of men in their society.

these are 2 different conversations & you are totally allowed to make your own post. you can make a post about this and have that conversation yourself, because i do not live anywhere else but america and i cannot speak for you or anyone else who does not live here. it is a genuine problem here. me allowing trans men to speak up about this is not saying your experience doesn't exist or doesn't matter. please understand that this is you butting your head into a conversation where you don't belong.

if someone is talking about how height can cause dysphoria, and you don't relate: that post wasn't made for you. please go make your own. it wasn't made for you and trying to make the conversation about something else is derailing.

i totally understand that trans people in different countries have different situations w/ height but this is disturbing behavior please let USAmerican trans men & mascs talk about their dysphoria wrt to height.

genuine question: i'm a trans man living in America. why is it not okay to speak about my perspective as an American? my life doesn't suddenly stop mattering because I live somewhere I didn't choose to. How do you expect me to speak about experiences I don't understand? I don't live anywhere but America. I have never lived anywhere else but America. please stop trying to force me to have a conversation i don't understand. i cannot accurately depict what it's like to be a trans man in afghanistan if i haven't lived there.

i'm not being mean when i point this out but i'm glad to hear that height is not an issue elsewhere, but people NEED to be sympathetic about how height IS a big deal in certain parts of the world. it's not *just* USAmerica where taller people live. please be sympathetic to people in populations with mixed heights. the reason it's an issue here is because we have a lot of diversity in heights, but generally, white people are expected to be taller.

i really do understand that this is relative to culture but you need to understand that you also have to be open to how height affects people from other cultures. it's very narrow minded to bullheadedly insist that because height dysmorphia does not occur in your society which- i honestly doubt, i feel like there are still people with height related insecurities -the fact that height does impact Americans doesn't matter. the trans men talking about height dysphoria are FROM countries that things like this occur in. they are talking about THEIR experience with height and how they truly are profiled for being too short or too tall as a trans person. please stop inferring that USAmericans are talking out of line for speaking about any possible dysphoria with height.

trans women are also persecuted for their height in the USA.

please please take a second to understand how badly this affects trans men. white people expect men to be much, much taller than women. if a trans man is under 5' 6" in a lot of white cultures, they're viewed as too short to be a man. especially trans guys under 4'. trans men really do get assaulted, harmed, raped, threatened, mocked and misgendered over their height and yes, it CAN get them killed, because their height "gave away" the fact that they're a tranny.

i understand it's different elsewhere. i know. but i can't talk about what it's like elsewhere from a personal stance because i don't live there. please understand that american lives MATTER. we are not all our government. we do not all agree with our government. we are not responsible for our government. we are not wholesale rude. we are not wholesale assholes. we are not inherently bad people. we are not all right wing alt right conspiracy nuts.

please be kinder to USAmerican queers. we literally should not have to stop talking about our experiences and be quiet because Americans "Suck" or are too "America-centric' or whatever. this behavior honestly sucks. please let USAmericans talk about what it's like to live here. we're having an awful time. this is not the land of everyone's rich and is an annoying racist tourist. we are real people. please care about that. thank you for your time.

#asks #answers

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misahyochaeng · 3 months ago

Text

“Y si fuera ella?” 🌧️ PT.1

tw: angst, mohyo, college!au, slow burn, violence, forbidden love(?) the song might set the mood i had it on loop while i wrote so.. enjoy!!

—

“You never know what you have until you lose it.”

“And once it’s gone…”

“You can never get it back.”

—

Momo and Sana walked side by side through the busy hallway, the chatter of students fading into the background as they talked. Sana’s energy was her usual—loud, bubbly, like she was ready to take on the world. Meanwhile, Momo kept her head down, listening half-heartedly, her thoughts drifting elsewhere staring at the walls or getting lost in the chatter of the nonparticipating.

“You seriously can’t tell me you’re not coming to the party this weekend,” Sana was saying, glancing over at Momo. “Everyone’s gonna be there. It’s gonna be so much fun, you can’t just skip out.” Momo blinked, her response more automatic than anything else. “Yeah, sure…”

Sana shot her a look. “Uh-huh, you’re totally in, I can tell.” She grinned as she replied sarcastically, nudging Momo lightly with her elbow. Momo barely reacted, her mind already on the report cards that were waiting for her at the dorm.

The two of them finally reached Sana’s dorm, and she shoved the door open with a dramatic flourish, stepping aside to let Momo in.

“Come on, we’re comparing these bad boys,” Sana said, practically bouncing on her feet. “I want to see if you’re really failing as bad as I think you are.” Momo gave a reluctant sigh, following her inside. It wasn’t like she was looking forward to it, but she had to face it eventually. They sat down on the couch, the energy in the room suddenly feeling a bit more serious.

Sana grabbed her report card first, tearing open the envelope with no hesitation. Momo hesitated for a moment, before pulling hers out and sliding it across the table. Sana’s eyes narrowed as she scanned her grades.

Then, she froze.

“Momo,” Sana said slowly, her voice wavering in disbelief. “What the fuck is this?” Momo tilted her head, glancing at the paper, totally confused. “Eh? I thought that was an A in… what’s this?”

She said as she pointed at a line that was definitely not an A.

Sana’s jaw dropped. She slapped the paper down on the table between them with a thud. “Are you seriously failing? Momo, look at this!” She pointed at the grades like they were some kind of horror movie. “This is worse than me, and I’m barely scraping by here!”

Momo blinked, still not totally grasping the situation. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Sana threw her hands up in frustration. “No, it’s really bad! Like, really bad! You’re not even trying to put in the effort!”

Momo slumped further into the couch, her shoulders drooping. “I am trying,” she muttered, but it was more of a resigned sigh than an argument. “I just… I don’t know how to focus.”

Sana leaned forward, her expression softening a bit. “Momo, girl, you’ve gotta lock in. like seriously. You can’t just coast like this, it’s not gonna work. You need to actually do something.”

Momo gave a weak frown. “I don’t know how to. I mean, can’t just magically change.” She tapped her fingers against her knee, avoiding eye contact. Sana leaned back, crossing her arms. “I get it, it’s tough. But pretending like you’re just gonna breeze by? That’s not gonna cut it. You’ve gotta take this seriously. And stop acting like teachers are just gonna hand you grades ‘cause you're cute.”

Momo puffed out her cheeks, her lips jutting out in a pout. “Well that works for you..” She sulked. “Plus, I don’t know what else to do. Everyone I ask for help is either creepy, smelly, or, like... just wants to get in my pants.” she let out a fake gag.

Sana let out a sharp laugh at that, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Well, you’re not wrong. It’s so hard to find a tutor who’s not weird. But you do need someone who actually knows their stuff.” Momo nodded a little, the frustration on her face softening. “So, do you know anyone who can help me? I’ll take anyone who won’t make it... weird.”

Sana paused for a moment, tapping her chin like she was thinking it over. Momo sat there, nervously awaiting an answer. And then, as if the answer just clicked into place, Sana’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint.

“Oh, I definitely know who.”

The next day, Sana was weaving through the crowded halls, dodging groups of students and trying to keep up her pace. She could already hear Jihyo and Nayeon’s voices—loud, teasing, and Jihyo being as stubborn as ever.

“No, Nayeon! The nucleus does contain DNA,” Jihyo’s voice rang out, her tone defensive and serious. “It’s basic biology. Have you read the textbook—”

“Jihyo, I swear to fucking god, if you say ‘the textbook’ one more time, I’m grabbing that fuckass book and throwing it in a fire,” Nayeon interrupted, her voice dripping with playful annoyance. “Just let me live, please.”

“Nonono, I’m just saying—” Jihyo’s voice was getting more intense, practically buzzing with frustration, “The textbook is clear, and you’re the one who doesn’t get it—”

“Stop!” Nayeon laughed, feigning offense, “You’re lucky I think you’re cute, or I’d beat the shit out of you right now.”

Sana finally reached the group, only to trip over her own feet in her excitement to get over to them. She reached out instinctively and grabbed Nayeon’s arm to steady herself, pulling her close to prevent them both from falling.

“Wow… very smooth, Sana,” Nayeon teased, laughing as she helped herself stay balanced. “You okay?”

Sana panted, still out of breath, and quickly straightened up, suddenly realizing how awkward she must look. She let go of Nayeon’s arm and cleared her throat, trying to shake off the embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m good... so, um...” She glanced between the two of them, trying to look casual, but it was clear she was fidgeting with her hands. “Hey, so, I need to borrow Jihyo for a second.”

Jihyo raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “What, why?” Nayeon and Jihyo exchanged a glance, their silent communication so obvious that Sana couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Nayeon, with a mischievous glint in her eye, winked at Sana. “She’s all yours, Sana,” she said cheerfully, then waved her off with a teasing grin as she headed down the hall, looking back to Jihyo getting dragged away, flipping Nayeon off as she stumbled; trying to match Sana’s fast steps.

Jihyo was holding her notebooks close to her chest, her posture tense and defensive as if she were preparing for something difficult. It was hard not to notice the way she seemed to be preparing for battle. Sana took a deep breath. “So, uh...” She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “I have this friend. And... she’s, um... really socially awkward. Like, painfully awkward. She doesn’t know how to talk to people or focus in class or anything. And, uh, I was thinking... you’re probably the best person to help her?”

Jihyo blinked, a little confused. “Okay, hold on. Who are you talking about?”

Sana gave a sheepish laugh and waved her hands around in the air like she was trying to grab her thoughts. “I’m talking about Momo. You know, the one who’s, like, always nice but can’t focus on anything for more than five minutes? Blonde.. she sits behind you in Calculus.”

Jihyo frowned, clearly not understanding where this was going. “Ah.. and why do you want me to help her?”

Sana sighed and gave a small shrug. “Well, you’re not... you know... creepy, and you’re not going to try to, like, get in her pants or anything,” she said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Jihyo’s eyes widened in surprise. “The fuck? Why would I—” She stepped back, raising her hands as if to ward off the conversation entirely. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got my own work to do. Why do you need me of all people?”

Sana stepped forward, not wanting to lose this opportunity. “Wait, no, please! I swear, it won’t be that much work. I just—I really want to help her. She’s my friend and i’m like her only friend, Jihyo. She’s just... awkward. You’re the only one I can think of who won’t make things weird for her.”

Jihyo stared at her, unconvinced, and started to turn away. “I can’t do it, Sana. This is ridiculous.”

“Wait, wait, hold on!” Sana’s voice was desperate now, practically pleading. “I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you, okay? Name your price.” Jihyo froze, turning back to look at her in disbelief. “You’re offering me money for this?”

“Yes!” Sana nodded eagerly. “I swear, it won’t be a hassle. Just... please?”

Jihyo hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Sana...”

“I’ll even throw in extra! You can have whatever you want, i’ll even kiss your feet for it!!” Sana continued, her voice rising in a frenzy of desperation.

Jihyo finally sighed and shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Ew… shut up, fine I’ll do it. But only because I know you’ll never leave me alone unless I do.”

Sana squealed, practically bouncing on her heels. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best!” Without thinking, she darted forward and kissed both of Jihyo’s cheeks, giggling like she had just won the lottery.

Jihyo was frozen for a second, completely shocked by the sudden affection. She blinked rapidly, taking a step back, a look of mild horror on her face. “Blegh,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “What the hell was that?”

Sana was already darting off, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll get you that money, don’t worry! You’re the best, Jihyo! I’m so excited!”

Jihyo just watched her go, blinking as if trying to process what had just happened. “I... I really need a drink after that,” she muttered to herself. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ugh, class is about to start,” she groaned, gathering her things and heading off to class, trying to shake off the overwhelming weirdness of the situation

An hour later or so—once classes ended, Momo sat on the floor in front of Sana’s coffee table, a mountain of assignments from last week to the present scattered around her like a chaotic mess. She stared blankly at the papers, not even bothering to pick up a pen. Her face was the picture of defeat.

Sana swung the door open, keys clinking as she stepped inside. Her eyes immediately went to the scene in front of her—papers everywhere and Momo just... staring at them. She raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “You good?” Sana asked, her voice tinged with concern. “I’m so fucking cooked, bro,” Momo muttered, her voice muffled as she slammed both of her palms into her forehead. She rubbed her nose out of frustration, looking like she could just melt into the floor.

Sana couldn’t help but chuckle, her heart aching a little for her friend. She walked over, crouching down beside Momo, her hand automatically going to ruffle Momo's hair.

Momo, for a split second, leaned into her touch, closing her eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “Thank you,” she mumbled, almost too quietly to hear. Sana smiled, a warm, fond smile. “I got you, Momo.” She gave Momo’s head a light pat. “I’ve already arranged a tutor for you. You’ll start tomorrow. I’ll schedule it, so don’t worry.”

Momo finally looked up, eyes wide and a little nervous. “Wait... the tutor isn’t weird, right?” she asked, her voice tinged with hesitation. "I don't need some creepy guy lurking over my shoulder."

Sana’s face softened with a knowing grin. “No, trust me, Momo, I wouldn't do that to you. It’s someone you’ll actually like. They're... normal, I promise.” Momo gave a small nod, though she still looked a bit unsure. “Okay, if you say so.”

Sana chuckled, standing up and brushing her hands off. “I’m not gonna let you drown in all this. You’re my best friend. I’ll make sure you get the help you need.” Momo couldn’t help but smile a little, though it was more of a tired smile. “Thanks, Sana. You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” Sana replied, her tone teasing but affectionate. “Now, get some rest. You’ll be all set tomorrow.” Momo nodded slowly, feeling a little bit of the weight lift off her shoulders. Maybe things would get better after all.

Or so she thought.

The next day, Momo stood outside the coffee shop, her heart thudding in her chest. She glanced at her watch—she was early, which she hoped was a good sign. She could barely remember the last time she was this anxious for anything. Well, maybe except for her last exam, but that was a whole different kind of stress.

She pushed the door open with a little too much force, causing the bell to jingle loudly. Immediately, she scanned the room, feeling her stomach twist. Was she imagining it, or did the air feel... heavier? She could see a girl sitting near the window, looking at a notebook, and Momo froze.

That was Jihyo, right?

She stood there for a second, nervously biting her lip. It wasn’t that she didn’t want help; she was just... nervous. What if the tutor was weird? Or worse—what if they didn’t like her? As if on cue, Jihyo looked up, meeting her eyes. “You must be Momo?” Jihyo asked, her tone warm but with a hint of amusement. She didn’t seem as scary as Momo had imagined, but Momo still felt her palms sweat. “Uh, yeah...” Momo’s voice was quiet, and she quickly moved toward the table, trying to muster up some courage. “Hi.”

Jihyo’s smile was more playful than anything. “No need to look so serious. I’m not gonna bite,” she said, glancing at Momo’s stiff posture.

Momo let out a nervous chuckle and sat down across from her. “I just... didn’t know what to expect,” she admitted, hands fidgeting in her lap. “I mean, I’m not really good at—well, anything, really.” Jihyo raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening. “You’re fine. No one’s judging you here. It’s all about helping, right?” She put her notebook down, leaning back slightly in her chair. “So, what are we working on today?”

Momo hesitated, glancing down at the papers she brought with her. Biology. Her worst subject. “Uh... biology?” she said, half-laughing. She felt like an idiot. Was this really how she was going to start?

Jihyo’s expression shifted, more serious now but still comforting. “Alright. You came to the right person then.” She paused, glancing at Momo over her notebook. “So, what’s the hardest part for you?” Momo bit her lip. “Honestly? Everything.” She gave a small, sheepish smile, and Jihyo laughed lightly, not mocking, but more like she understood.

“You’re not the first one to feel that way,” Jihyo said, her voice gentle now. “But, hey, if you give me a chance, I’ll help you get this stuff down. One step at a time, yeah?” Momo felt a bit of the tension in her shoulders ease, though she was still unsure of herself. “Yeah... Okay.” She nodded and slid the biology paper closer to Jihyo.

“So, um,” Momo started again, her voice barely above a whisper, “just to make sure... You’re not weird, right?” Jihyo blinked, slightly taken aback, but then a smile tugged at her lips. “Weird? Are you asking if I’m gonna be all creepy and act like I’m trying to get in your pants?” she teased.

Momo blushed, her face turning red, but she quickly nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”

Jihyo laughed out loud now, throwing her head back for a second before catching Momo’s eyes again. “You’re cute. Don’t worry. I’m here to help, nothing more. Trust me.” She leaned in a little, teasing, “But I can’t promise I won’t make fun of you a little along the way.” Momo smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can live with that. I think.”

Jihyo winked. “Good. Now, let’s get started.”

Momo was still a little nervous, but Jihyo’s relaxed attitude was starting to make her feel like she could breathe a little easier. For the first time, Momo didn’t feel so alone in this. She had someone to guide her.

The days after their first meeting felt like a blur for Momo. She didn’t feel like she was keeping up with her assignments, but she tried anyway. Jihyo, to her surprise, was patient with her—patient when Momo didn’t get a simple concept, patient when Momo’s mind would wander during their study sessions. Jihyo always pushed her gently, never making her feel stupid. Momo appreciated that more than she realized at the time, though it only made her feel worse about how much she was struggling.

The first week of tutoring was filled with awkward silences, stilted conversations, and more than a few moments when Momo almost zoned out entirely. But every time she would look up to see Jihyo sitting across from her, scribbling notes in her notebook or tapping her pen thoughtfully, there was something about Jihyo’s calmness that made Momo feel... safe? Even if it was fleeting, it was enough to make her feel a little less alone in her own head.

As for Jihyo, she started picking up on Momo’s little quirks. The way Momo fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve whenever she was nervous. How her eyes would flit away from Jihyo’s whenever she wasn’t sure of her answer, almost as if she were afraid of disappointing her. And the way Momo always seemed to apologize for things that didn’t even need an apology. Jihyo found herself feeling a gentle tug in her chest every time she noticed those small things—things Momo probably wasn’t even aware of.

By the second week, Jihyo had recognized a pattern in their tutoring sessions. Momo would show up with tired eyes, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. She’d settle down, give a sheepish smile, and apologize before even opening her notes. It wasn’t in a mocking way—far from it—but it made Jihyo feel something protective stir inside her. This warmth that filled her chest whenever Momo got flustered, whenever Momo made those small, vulnerable gestures. It was strange, but she didn’t mind it. In fact, she found herself looking forward to these moments.

One afternoon, after a particularly tough biology session, Momo was slumped against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it was the only thing that could make sense in the world. Jihyo had just finished explaining how DNA replication worked, but Momo was drained. Every time Jihyo asked her a question, Momo could feel the pressure building in her chest. She rubbed her temples, trying to suppress the frustration that was threatening to bubble up.

“You okay?” Jihyo asked, her voice softer than usual, watching Momo carefully as she noticed the faint frown tugging at her lips. “I’m fine,” Momo muttered, but the exhaustion in her voice was clear. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide how overwhelmed she felt. It was becoming harder to pretend that she wasn’t falling behind. “Just... tired, I guess.”

Jihyo didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she took a deep breath, then slid closer to Momo on the couch. Their shoulders brushed ever so slightly, the soft contact making Momo stiffen for a second, but then she relaxed into it, surprised by how natural it felt.

“You know, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” Jihyo said, her tone surprisingly tender. “You’re doing better than you think.” Momo blinked at her, brow furrowing in confusion. “I... I don’t know, Jihyo. It feels like I’m failing.”

Jihyo looked at her for a long moment, a quiet determination behind her eyes. She tilted her head, the concern in her gaze deepening. “No, you’re not failing. You’re just... figuring it out. I’ve been there. It’s okay to struggle.”

Momo paused at that, unsure of how to respond. She wanted to believe Jihyo, but the words didn’t quite sit right with her. So, she just nodded, looking down, her heart pounding a little harder in her chest. There was something about Jihyo’s kindness that made the weight pressing on her shoulders feel a little lighter, even though it didn’t go away completely.

Jihyo didn’t say anything more, but when Momo leaned slightly toward her, trying to compose herself, Jihyo gently nudged her, pushing her shoulder in a little more. “Hey,” Jihyo murmured, “It’s okay. Lean on me for a second.”

Momo froze, not expecting it, but the softness in Jihyo’s voice made her heart race. It wasn’t demanding or intrusive, just... there. So, Momo let herself do it, letting her head tilt to rest on Jihyo’s shoulder. The warmth of Jihyo’s presence soothed her in ways she hadn’t expected, and as much as she wanted to push away, she didn’t. It felt too right.

Jihyo’s arm naturally went around Momo’s shoulder, holding her close for a moment longer, the silence comfortable between them. Neither of them said anything, but neither needed to. There was an unspoken understanding. And for the first time in a long time, Momo felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

—

Jihyo slammed the door open with a frustrated huff, barely even noticing how loudly it creaked as it bounced off the wall. Her feet shuffled quickly across the floor, the sound of her heavy sighs echoing in the quiet apartment. She collapsed onto the bed next to Nayeon, whose attention was glued to her iPad, fingers flying across the screen as she played Block Blast with an intensity that could make any professional gamer shake.

Jihyo groaned loudly into the pillow, burying her face in the soft fabric as if it could somehow absorb all of her frustration. “Ugh, this is driving me crazy!”

Nayeon didn’t even flinch, just muttered, “What is it now?”

Jihyo let out another groan, this one muffled by the pillow. “Momo,” she whined, her voice barely audible. “She’s so slow, Nayeon. It’s like... it’s like she can’t process things fast enough. I keep explaining things to her, and she still doesn’t get it. I mean, we’re talking basic stuff, and she—”

“Jihyo,” Nayeon interrupted, finally looking up from her game with a raised eyebrow. “If she’s that bad, then why do you even keep helping her?” Jihyo sighed deeply, raising her head slightly from the pillow, her hands pressing into her temples as if she were trying to physically will away her confusion. “Because, that’s the thing! She’s... she’s so frustrating, but also kind of... cute? She’s, like, so awkward and doesn’t even realize it, but then she gets these little moments where she’s actually really... endearing.”

She flopped back down on the bed, letting out an exasperated noise, her legs kicking up in the air before falling back to the mattress with a heavy thud. “I don’t know, Nayeon. It’s just... I don’t know how to feel about her. One minute, I want to scream at her because she doesn’t get anything, and the next... I just wanna kiss her and tell her it’s okay. I mean, what the hell?”

Nayeon paused for a second, then smirked. She leaned back on her elbows, giving Jihyo a knowing look. “You like her, don’t you?”

Jihyo snapped her head to Nayeon, her eyes widening with disbelief. “What?!” she yelped, slapping Nayeon’s hand just as she was about to tap the iPad screen. The device nearly slid off the bed, and Nayeon let out an exaggerated gasp.

“bitch my iPad!” Nayeon exclaimed, making a dramatic grab at the device, but Jihyo was too caught up in her own thoughts to care about Nayeon’s reaction. “Shut up,” Jihyo muttered, face flushed with embarrassment. She stood up abruptly, pacing around the room. “I don’t know what to do, okay? I mean... one minute, I’m trying so hard to help her, and the next... I’m like, ‘Why do I care so much?’ It’s just tutoring, right? But... every time I look at her, my stupid heart goes crazy, and I just don’t get it!”

She paused for a moment, placing her hands on her hips and letting out a frustrated breath. “Look, I think I do—no.. I really do, but I don’t know what to do, man! She’s so oblivious about everything, but... she’s so... her. Ugh, I don’t know! I can’t figure it out.”

Nayeon watched her, half-amused and half-exasperated. She sat up, dropping her iPad to her side. “You really are an emotional mess,” she teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s cute.”

Jihyo groaned, walking over to the window to stare outside, her arms folded tightly across her chest as if she could physically hold back her feelings. “It’s not cute, Nayeon. It’s a fucking disaster.” She glanced at Nayeon, eyes flashing with frustration. “She doesn’t even seem to notice, and I feel like an idiot.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Nayeon asked, leaning forward with a playful smile. “You can’t just keep running away from your feelings, Jihyo.” Jihyo’s eyes narrowed as she turned around to face her. “I’m not running away! I’m... trying to figure it out.”

“Well, figure it out quickly, because it’s obvious to everyone except Momo that you like her. Seriously, Jihyo. You’re not as subtle as you think,” Nayeon added, smirking again.

Jihyo froze, her expression softening for a brief second before she let out a heavy sigh, collapsing back down on the bed next to Nayeon. “I don’t even know where to start, Nayeon. What if I mess this up? I can’t just... tell her, can I? What if she... doesn’t feel the same? I’d look like an idiot.”

Nayeon shrugged, looking over at Jihyo with a more serious expression. “Look, if you really care about her, then you’ve got nothing to lose. You just need to be honest with her. But you’ve gotta stop hiding behind all these walls. Otherwise, you’ll never know.”

Jihyo nodded slowly, chewing on Nayeon’s words. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just wish it was easier.”

“You’re Jihyo, for God’s sake,” Nayeon said with a chuckle. “If you can handle a class full of idiots, you can handle a little crush.”

Jihyo smiled, albeit with a nervous laugh. “Right...”

She laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in thought, feeling more overwhelmed than ever, but also more determined. She would figure this out. Somehow.

—

Nayeon strolled into the common area, catching sight of Momo on her phone, scrolling aimlessly. She leaned against the doorway with a lazy grin, watching Momo with an amused expression.

“Hey,” Nayeon began, her tone light but teasing, “So... looks like you’re getting some one-on-one tutoring from Jihyo, huh?”

Momo didn’t even glance up from her phone. “Yeah, she’s just helping with my assignments,” she mumbled, her attention absorbed in the screen.

Nayeon pushed herself off the doorframe, stepping forward. “You guys look cute together, you know?”

Momo’s eyes flickered up briefly, blinking in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, furrowing her brows slightly, completely unaware of Nayeon’s intentions.

Nayeon shrugged casually, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Oh, nothing. Just... you know. You two spend a lot of time together.” She winked, walking away without another word.

Momo stared after her, still confused. “She’s weird,” Momo muttered to herself, then shrugged and returned to her phone, unfazed.

A short time later, Momo arrived at the study spot, where Jihyo was already set up at the desk, papers neatly laid out in front of her. She looked effortlessly put-together, her outfit carefully chosen, and the way the light hit her made her appear almost ethereal. Momo stood for a moment, taking in the sight, before blinking and shaking her head.

She didn’t even realize she was staring until Jihyo looked up at her with a gentle smile. “Hey, Momo,” she greeted, motioning to the seat next to her.

Momo blinked again, quickly moving to sit down next to her. “Hey.” She pulled out her assignments, still avoiding looking at Jihyo directly. Her eyes kept darting to her phone as she fidgeted with the screen, trying to seem casual, despite the strange feeling in her stomach.

Jihyo noticed but didn’t say anything at first. She went straight into the lesson. “Alright, we’re starting with the basics of DNA today. Let’s look over these terms.”

Momo hummed in acknowledgment, though her focus was more on the way Jihyo's voice sounded when explaining the material. Her words were clear and confident, but there was a softness in them that made it... nice to listen to. Momo couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting.

A few minutes into the lesson, Momo caught herself staring at Jihyo. The way her hand moved over the paper, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear—Momo didn’t know why, but everything about Jihyo seemed... perfect.

Jihyo paused mid-sentence, noticing Momo wasn’t paying attention. “Seriously?” she asked, her eyebrow raising slightly as she looked at Momo. “Are you even listening?”

Momo snapped back to reality, quickly glancing at Jihyo with wide eyes. “Huh?” She blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard.

Jihyo sighed, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing,” she said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “Let’s just focus on your assignments.”

Momo furrowed her brow for a second, sensing there was something more, but she let it go. She sat up straighter, giving Jihyo her full attention this time.

But the thought lingered—Jihyo’s voice, her actions, her everything. There was a warmth to her presence, something that Momo couldn’t quite place, but it made the lessons feel different somehow.

As they continued with the session, Jihyo felt her emotions bubbling up again, not from frustration this time, but from something... else. She had started to notice the small things about Momo—her quirky little habits, like how she bit her lip when thinking or how her eyes would widen when she actually grasped something. It was endearing. Too endearing.

And that frustrated Jihyo even more. It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. Momo wasn’t supposed to make her feel... this way. She had asked for this tutoring arrangement, but she hadn’t signed up for feeling like her heart might burst every time Momo smiled or looked at her with those confused eyes.

Jihyo shook her head, trying to focus on the lesson. “Come on,” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Get a grip, Jihyo.”

But it was hard to, especially when Momo leaned in just a little too close to the paper, her shoulder brushing against Jihyo’s. It was only a brush, but it was enough to send a jolt through Jihyo’s chest. She tried to ignore it, but her mind was too loud now, racing with thoughts she couldn’t control.

“Let’s get through this,” Jihyo forced herself to say, trying to refocus as she pushed another sheet of paper toward Momo.

Momo slouched in her chair, tapping her pencil absentmindedly against the desk. Jihyo sat across from her, perfectly poised, eyes flickering between Momo’s blank worksheet and her completely disengaged expression.

Jihyo inhaled sharply through her nose. "Momo."

Momo lifted her head lazily. "Huh?"

"You haven’t written anything."

"Oh." Momo looked down at the empty page, then back up at Jihyo. "Yeah, I don’t know what to write."

Jihyo exhaled, rubbing her temples. "We literally just went over this." She reached over, tapping the worksheet with her pen. "You just need to plug in the formulas. It’s not that hard."

Momo stared at the sheet for a few seconds before sighing. "Right. Formulas. Got it." She twirled her pencil in her fingers before slowly writing something down—pausing halfway to peek at Jihyo for confirmation.

Jihyo rolled her eyes but leaned closer to see. "No, that’s wrong. Here—" She grabbed her pen, hesitated for a second, then reached for Momo’s hand to guide it along the page.

Momo stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. Instead, she let Jihyo trace the numbers onto her paper, following the movements with a small furrow in her brow. "Ohhh," she murmured under her breath. "Okay. That kinda makes sense now."

Jihyo bit her lip, pretending like her heart hadn’t just skipped a beat at Momo’s low, focused voice. "Finally," she muttered, retracting her hand quickly.

Momo glanced up at her, tilting her head. "You good?"

Jihyo cleared her throat. "Yeah. Just… keep going."

For the next thirty minutes, Jihyo patiently (and sometimes not-so-patiently) guided Momo through the material. Momo, in turn, nodded along, occasionally asking questions or making dumb jokes that had Jihyo fighting off the urge to smile. At some point, Momo’s foot accidentally brushed against Jihyo’s under the table. It was brief, barely even noticeable, but Jihyo still felt her breath hitch before she forced herself to focus on the textbook.

Eventually, the session started winding down. Momo stretched her arms above her head, groaning slightly as she leaned back in her chair. "That was exhausting," she mumbled.

Jihyo closed her notebook, tapping it against the desk. "That’s because you made it harder than it needed to be."

Momo shot her a playful glare. "I’m trying, okay?"

Jihyo hummed, lips curving just slightly. "You’ll get there."

Momo blinked at her, as if surprised by the encouragement. But before she could say anything, Jihyo’s brain suddenly replayed what Nayeon had said earlier.

"You like her, don’t you?"

Jihyo swallowed, fingers tightening around her notebook. The words sat heavy on her tongue, like a weight she wasn’t sure she wanted to drop. But before she could talk herself out of it, the words blurted out—just a little too loud.

"Wanna hang out tomorrow?"

Momo blinked. "...Huh?"

Jihyo immediately regretted it. "I mean—" She hesitated, gripping her pen tightly. "You know, just—outside of this. If you want."

Momo stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure."

Jihyo blinked. "...Wait, really?"

"Yeah, why not?" Momo stood up, stretching again. "See you tomorrow, I guess." With that, she grabbed her stuff and walked off, completely unfazed.

Meanwhile, Jihyo sat frozen in her seat, face burning.

What the hell was that?

Nayeon barely flinched when Jihyo threw herself onto the bed, her weight pressing down as she buried her face into Nayeon’s neck with a dramatic groan.

"That bad, huh?" Nayeon smirked, absentmindedly running her fingers through Jihyo’s hair. She could already guess what had happened.

Jihyo nodded against her, muffling her response into Nayeon’s hoodie.

"You actually asked her?"

Another nod.

"And…?"

Jihyo pulled back slightly, resting her chin on Nayeon’s shoulder. "She just—shrugged. Said ‘sure’ and walked away like I’d just asked if she wanted to borrow my notes or something."

Nayeon snorted. "Classic Momo."

Jihyo groaned, rolling onto her back dramatically. "I don’t know why I thought it’d be a big moment or something. It felt like I was about to confess to her or something!"

Nayeon turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly would you have confessed?"

Jihyo opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly, scowling. "Shut up."

Nayeon smirked, poking Jihyo’s cheek. "Oh, I see. You’re mad because she didn’t react the way you wanted."

"I don’t know what I wanted!" Jihyo huffed, running a hand through her hair. "I just—I thought she’d at least act like it was a big deal!"

"She’s dense, babe." Nayeon laughed, sitting up and stretching. "You could tell her you love her and she’d probably just be like ‘cool, love you too bro.’"

Jihyo slapped her arm. "Not funny."

"It’s a little funny."

Jihyo groaned again, flopping onto Nayeon’s lap. "I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive this date tomorrow."

Nayeon grinned, smoothing down Jihyo’s hair. "Lucky for you, I’m a certified romance expert."

Jihyo scoffed. "Says the woman who got rejected six times by the same person."

Nayeon gasped in fake offense. "Okay first of all—leave me and Jeongyeon alone, that was one time. And she was playing hard to get."

"She blocked you."

"That’s besides the point." Nayeon waved her off. "The point is, I’m going to make sure you look so good that even Momo has to notice."

Jihyo stared up at her, skeptical. "You think that’s even possible?"

"Trust me, babe," Nayeon smirked. "By the time I’m done with you, Momo’s gonna be the one freaking out."

Jihyo sat cross-legged on the floor, arms limp at her sides as she watched her life’s dignity get tossed aside one article of clothing at a time. Nayeon was in full personal stylist mode, moving through her closet like a storm, shaking her head at each rejected sweater, shirt, and pair of jeans before flinging them onto the growing pile of discarded options.

“This is ridiculous,” Jihyo muttered, rubbing her temples.

“This is essential,” Nayeon corrected, holding up two sweaters in front of Jihyo’s face, squinting as if she were choosing a masterpiece for an art gallery. “We need something that says ‘effortlessly pretty’ but not ‘I’m trying to impress you’—even though you totally are.”

Jihyo groaned, throwing her head back. “It’s not a date, Nayeon.”

“Sure,” Nayeon snorted. “And I’m not the hottest girl on campus.”

Jihyo deadpanned. “Do you ever get tired of yourself?”

“Nope.” Nayeon grinned, tossing another sweater onto the bed. “Now, do you want my help or not?”

Jihyo sighed, flopping onto her back dramatically. “I should just wear whatever. It’s not like Momo’s even gonna notice what I have on.”

Nayeon snorted. “Oh, she’ll notice.”

Jihyo lifted her head slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nayeon smirked, plopping down next to her. “Momo’s weirdly judgy about people’s outfits. Especially shoes. You should hear her roast half the people on campus just for wearing the wrong sneakers.”

Jihyo blinked, before snorting. “She does do that…”

Nayeon pointed at her. “Exactly. Now, get up and put this on.” She tossed Jihyo a cream-colored sweater.

Jihyo caught it with a sigh, tugging it over her head. When she turned to the mirror, she had to admit—it looked… nice. Soft, warm, flattering in a way that made her look put together without trying too hard.

Nayeon grinned, leaning against the wall. “Now this is ‘tutor with a secret agenda’ material.”

Jihyo groaned, shoving her lightly. “I don’t have a secret agenda.”

“Uh-huh,” Nayeon hummed, unconvinced. “Anyway, fix your hair before I do it for you.”

Jihyo sighed but obeyed, sitting in front of the mirror and running her fingers through her hair. As she did, her mind drifted.

Momo probably wouldn’t even look at her properly today. She never did. Always half-glancing up before scrolling through her phone or getting distracted by something else. But then again… she did have her moments. Like when she actually listened to Jihyo ramble, nodding along even if she didn’t fully get what she was saying. Or when she scrunched her nose in confusion over an assignment. Or—

Jihyo shook her head, snapping herself out of it.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Nayeon reassured, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bag on her desk. “And if all else fails, just ‘accidentally’ brush her hand or something. Sparks fly, romance blooms, blah blah blah.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she grabbed her bag.

On the other hand, Momo sat at the edge of her bed, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling. Sana stood in front of her with her arms crossed, watching her like a mother who just caught her kid trying to sneak out in pajamas.

“You’re not seriously wearing that, right?”

Momo barely glanced up. “What’s wrong with it?”

Sana made a face. “Momo. That hoodie is peeling.”

“It’s comfy.”

“It’s dying.”

Momo waved her off, eyes still locked on her phone. “It’s not that serious. It’s just tutoring.”

Sana smirked. “With Jihyo.”

Momo finally looked up, unimpressed. “And?”

Sana tilted her head, smiling knowingly. “You guys look cute together.”

Momo blinked, expression blank. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sana shrugged, casual as ever. “Nothing. Just an observation.”

Momo narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to read her, but Sana’s face was as unreadable as ever. She went back to her phone—only for Sana to snatch it right out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“No distractions,” Sana scolded, holding it above her head. “You need to put some effort in. You can’t just sit across from the prettiest girl on campus looking like busted up radiator.”

Momo sighed, finally pushing herself off the bed. “Touché.” She shuffled over to her dresser, lazily grabbing another hoodie—one that was at least less worn-out—and changed into it.

Sana watched her with an unimpressed look. “You do realize Jihyo actually tries when she goes out, right?”

Momo grumbled, running a hand through her hair to flatten it a little. “There. Happy?”

Sana squinted. “Brush it properly.”

Momo groaned but obeyed, dragging a brush through her hair halfheartedly before stuffing it into her bag. “Now can I have my phone?”

Sana handed it back, but not before giving her a pointed look. “Don’t spend the whole session staring at that instead of her, okay?”

Momo snorted. “Noted.”

As she left the dorm, she thought about Sana’s words. *You guys look cute together.*

She shook her head, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Whatever that means.

The days slipped by, one after another, blurring together in a mix of tutoring sessions, late-night walks, and casual meetups that neither of them ever really planned—yet somehow always happened.

Momo, as oblivious as ever, just let it happen.

Jihyo, on the other hand, felt like she was losing her mind.

At first, it was just admiration—she liked Momo’s company, liked watching the way her mind worked, even if it worked slower than she’d like. But then she started noticing things. Stupid, small things.

The way Momo twisted the rings on her fingers when she was nervous.

The way she scrunched up her face when trying to read something complicated.

The way she always smelled faintly like vanilla and coffee, like she had just walked out of a warm café.

And it wasn’t just the habits—it was how she made Jihyo feel.

How Momo could say the dumbest thing and still make her laugh. How she’d tilt her head slightly when listening, making it look like she was deep in thought when, really, she was zoning out.

How she never pulled away when Jihyo got too close.

Jihyo wasn’t sure if Momo was just that clueless or if she was cruel.

Because the moments between them—the glances, the lingering touches, the way Jihyo reached out and Momo never once moved away—felt like something. Had to mean something.

But then Momo would turn around and say something so casual, so normal, that Jihyo would feel ridiculous for even thinking there was more.

Like the time they were at a café, Momo happily digging into the sweetest cake on the menu, completely content, while Jihyo stared at her, fondness pooling in her chest before she even realized she was speaking out loud.

"You really are a sweet person."

Momo blinked, fork in her mouth, before pulling it out with a confused look.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Jihyo felt heat creep up her neck as she groaned, waving her off. “Nothing.”

But it was something. Everything.

Because Momo had unknowingly wrecked her.

And as the days passed, as the pictures in her Polaroid collection grew, as they started walking home together more often—sometimes linking pinkies, sometimes just quietly existing in the same space—Jihyo felt herself losing grip.

Momo was opening up little by little, laughing more, telling her things she didn’t tell most people. She was letting Jihyo in.

And yet, even as Momo let her get closer, she never once reached back.

Jihyo could deal with slow burns. But even slow burns had to burn.

And so far?

She was the only one feeling the heat.

It was inevitable.

The way they gravitated toward each other. The way Momo started picking up on Jihyo’s habits—her ambitious streak, her bluntness, the way she held her coffee cup just right so it wouldn’t spill.

Jihyo noticed it all.

Momo was getting better at her studies, actually retaining the information instead of blankly nodding along. She was still awkward, still dense as hell, but little by little, she was becoming more expressive. She laughed more, furrowed her brows in thought more, and—even if she never really talked about her feelings—she showed them in her own ways.

They saw each other constantly.

At this point, Jihyo knew everything about her.

Her favorite drink .

Her favorite food.

Her clothing and shoe size (which Jihyo swore she only memorized for practical reasons, not because she had spent way too long staring at the way Momo’s rings fit on her fingers).

What makeup brands she liked and which ones she hated.

Even the exact grocery brands she’d pick out because she said the others were “either too shitty or too expensive.”

Jihyo held it all in her head.

And then, she started holding it in something else, too.

It started small—just writing down little things Momo said, things she didn’t want to forget.

But before she knew it, she had a journal filled with them.

A tiny bullet journal, every Polaroid picture they’d taken stuck neatly onto its pages, along with notes. Some were short, just a few words. Others were paragraphs of thoughts she could never say out loud.

Even during tutoring sessions, when Momo was too focused on work to notice, Jihyo would quietly paste a new picture in.

Some days, the notes were lighthearted.

"Momo got the answer right on the first try today. Progress. She was so smug about it, too. I wanted to wipe that stupid grin off her face. I love that grin."

Other days, they weren’t.

"She let our pinkies link again today. I don’t think she even notices when we do it. I think about it for hours, her skin is so soft.”

And some days, Jihyo didn’t write at all—because she knew if she did, she’d say things she couldn’t take back.

The frustration was eating her alive.

How much she felt.

How little Momo seemed to notice.

How much she wanted, yet couldn’t have.

So she did what she always did when she felt like she was about to explode.

She went to Nayeon.

Jihyo stormed into her dorm, threw herself onto Nayeon’s bed, and groaned loudly into her pillow.

Nayeon, who had been scrolling on her phone, sighed and locked it. "What now?"

"I can’t do this anymore," Jihyo mumbled into the fabric.

"Do what? Breathe? Exist?"

"Momo," she said, exasperated, sitting up. "*This whole thing. I can’t keep feeling like this while she just—just stays the same!*"

Nayeon gave her a knowing look. "She doesn’t just stay the same. She’s been different lately. More talkative, more open. And you know she only acts that way with you."

Jihyo clenched her fists. "It’s not enough."

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words tumbled out anyway.

Nayeon’s teasing smirk softened slightly. "Jihyo..."

"I don’t know what to do, Nayeon," she admitted, voice cracking. "I don’t know how much longer I can take this."

And that’s when Nayeon said it.

"You have to do something about it, Jihyo. Before it’s too late."

The words lingered.

Before it’s too late.

She texted to ‘hang out’ again..

—

The date was supposed to be casual, just another outing like the many they had before. But somewhere along the way, Jihyo found herself falling deeper into the routine of caring for Momo. It wasn’t even a conscious effort anymore—it was just what she did.

She had shown up that afternoon with a bag of takeout, filled with Momo’s favorites. The moment she handed it over, Momo’s eyes lit up.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Momo sighed, pulling out a container and opening it without hesitation.

Jihyo rolled her eyes, plopping down next to her. “Yeah, yeah. I should start charging you for this.”

Momo, already chewing, just hummed in response.

Jihyo exhaled, watching her. She swore, she had Momo’s entire routine memorized by now—the way she took exactly three bites before drinking water, how she scrunched her nose when something was too salty, the way she always saved the best part for last.

She let her head fall back against the couch, glancing at the laptop screen in front of them. “You done with that assignment?”

Momo, mid-bite, looked over and blinked. “…What assignment?”

Jihyo let out a dry laugh. “You’re kidding.”

Momo chewed slowly, as if trying to buy herself time. “Nope.”

Jihyo groaned, grabbing Momo’s laptop and pulling it onto her lap. “Unbelievable. You seriously don’t care about failing, do you?”

Momo shrugged. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

Jihyo froze for half a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had been doing exactly that for weeks now—going over Momo’s notes, fixing up her assignments, basically carrying her through the semester. And the worst part? She didn’t even mind.

She scoffed. “One of these days, I’m just gonna stop saving your ass and let you suffer.”

Momo, completely unaffected, just patted her head. “Nah, you love me too much for that.”

Jihyo’s fingers tensed on the keyboard.

Momo didn’t mean it. She knew that. It was just something people said, something casual. But Jihyo could feel her throat tightening anyway.

You have no idea.

She bit the inside of her cheek and continued typing, her mind elsewhere. How many times had she gone out of her way for Momo? How many little things had she done—bringing her food, helping with assignments, staying up just to make sure she studied? And for what? For Momo to sit there, completely unaware of the way Jihyo was practically giving herself away?

Momo sighed happily, stretching her arms over her head. “You’re the best, Jihyo.”

Jihyo slammed the laptop shut.

Momo jumped. “What the—”

“Do you even realize how much I do for you?” Jihyo snapped, turning to her. The frustration had been bubbling for too long, and now it was spilling out before she could stop it.

Momo blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…?”

Jihyo scoffed, running a hand through her hair. “Never mind. Just—eat your food.”

Momo watched her for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. But then, like always, she just shrugged and went back to eating.

Jihyo turned away, staring blankly at the table.

She needed to get a grip. Because at this rate, her heart was going to be the thing that failed first.

Jihyo stormed out into the night, her breath uneven, hands clenched into fists. The rain had started as a drizzle, but it quickly escalated into a downpour, soaking through her clothes within seconds. She didn’t care. She just needed to get away, to breathe, to stop feeling like she was drowning in emotions Momo would never understand.

But then—footsteps. Fast, hurried ones behind her.

“Jihyo!”

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip as she heard Momo’s voice. The one person she was trying to escape. The one person she wanted to run toward. “Why did you run off like that?” Momo huffed, her own clothes drenched, strands of hair sticking to her face. “You said it yourself, it’s pouring.”

Jihyo let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her wet hair. “Yeah? Maybe I like it.”

Momo frowned, stepping closer, her face unreadable. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

Jihyo scoffed. “Oh, have I? That’s rich coming from you.” Momo tilted her head slightly, eyes searching hers. “What does that mean?”

“It means—” Jihyo inhaled sharply, stepping forward until she was so close she could see the raindrops clinging to Momo’s eyelashes. “It means I’ve been trying. I’ve been—God, I don’t even know what I’ve been doing anymore. But you, you don’t see it, do you?”

Momo blinked, lips slightly parted. The streetlight above them flickered, casting shadows over her face. “See what?” Jihyo let out a shaky breath. Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to reach out, to hold, to grab, to shake her into understanding. Instead, she did something reckless.

She stepped even closer, eyes flickering down to Momo’s lips for just a second. The air between them was thick, electric. Jihyo could hear the rain hitting the pavement, her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. She saw the moment Momo’s breath hitched, the moment her fingers slightly curled like she was contemplating reaching out.

Jihyo hesitated. Just a little. Just enough to let Momo stop her, to let her pull away. But she didn’t. Momo just stared, wide-eyed, unmoving.

Jihyo’s breath fanned against her lips. So close. Too close.

And then—

Momo blinked and took a step back, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. “We should go back. You’ll catch a cold.”

Jihyo felt something inside her crack. She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head before turning away. “Right. A cold.”

Momo hesitated, like she wanted to say something. But she didn’t.

And so they walked back, side by side, but miles apart.

—

It happened so subtly that Momo barely even noticed at first. The way Jihyo’s texts became shorter, how she stopped complaining about little things like Momo’s ridiculous handwriting or the way she spaced out too often during tutoring. She still showed up, still helped Momo through every assignment, but there was something missing—something Momo couldn’t quite place.

It was like watching a flame burn out in slow motion.

Jihyo no longer greeted her with an exasperated sigh, no longer scolded her when she took too long to answer a question. Instead, she just... waited. Quietly. Patiently. Her laughter, which used to come so easily, had become scarce, her voice dull, her movements mechanical. The spark in her eyes, the one that made Momo feel like she was staring at the sun, had dimmed.

Momo should’ve noticed sooner.

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest, brushing it off as stress from finals or exhaustion from their late-night study sessions. But something about it didn’t sit right. Jihyo wasn’t just tired—she was tired of something. Of her? Of this? She didn’t know.

The once lively tutoring sessions felt... empty. Hollow. The warmth that had once lingered between them, in their shared glances and passing touches, had been replaced by a quiet that felt suffocating. Even when Jihyo did look at her, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t full of teasing or fond exasperation. It wasn’t full of anything at all.

Momo found herself missing the way Jihyo used to nag her about eating properly, how she’d shove a snack into her hands and grumble about how useless Momo would be in class if she didn’t have energy. She missed the texts that used to pop up out of nowhere: *I swear to god, if you don’t study today, I’m going to haunt you in your sleep.* She missed Jihyo’s little sighs of relief when Momo finally got something right, how she used to grab her wrist and shake her excitedly, proud even when Momo herself wasn’t.

But now? Nothing. Jihyo was here, but she wasn’t.

One day, after a particularly quiet session, Momo finally broke.

“You good?” she asked, frowning at the girl who barely looked up from her notebook.

Jihyo blinked, her eyes barely meeting Momo’s before she forced a tired smile. “Yeah. Why?”

Momo frowned deeper. That smile—it wasn’t hers. Not really. “You just seem... I don’t know. Out of it.”

Jihyo let out a soft hum, flipping through the pages of her notes. “I’m fine, Momo. Let’s just finish this, okay?”

Momo wanted to push, wanted to ask why Jihyo wasn’t looking at her, why she felt so far away even though she was sitting right next to her. But she didn’t. Because she didn’t know how. Because she didn’t know what she was supposed to be looking for.

And maybe... maybe that was the problem.

Momo tossed her report card onto the coffee table, leaning back against the couch with a deep sigh. Sana sat beside her, flipping through her own grades with an amused smirk before looking over at Momo’s. Her eyes scanned the numbers, then widened in disbelief. “Holy shit,” Sana muttered, sitting up straighter. “You actually improved. Like, a lot.”

Momo peeked at her from the corner of her eye. “You sound so surprised.”

“I am surprised, you actually might pass!” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

Momo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I should start planning my victory speech.”

“I mean, for real. I’m actually proud of you,” Sana said, nudging Momo’s shoulder. “Though, let’s be honest, this is all thanks to Jihyo.”

At the mention of her name, Momo tensed slightly. She reached for a loose thread on the couch cushion, tugging at it absentmindedly. “Yeah… I guess.” Sana frowned, immediately picking up on the shift. “What’s up with you?”

Momo hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “She’s just been… off, lately. I don’t know. Like, she still tutors me, but it’s not the same. She doesn’t nag me like before. She doesn’t yell when I mess up. She barely even looks at me.” Sana stared at her, unimpressed. “You’re so stupid.”

Momo blinked. “What?”

Sana sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she muttered, returning to her own report card. Momo frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, she let her eyes drift back to her report card, the numbers now feeling oddly heavy. College was almost over. She should be feeling relieved.

So why did it feel like something was slipping away?

—

Graduation day arrived like a slow-burning fuse, inevitable yet surreal. The sun hung high, casting its golden glow over the throng of students draped in their caps and gowns, their voices mixing in an overwhelming symphony of excitement, relief, and bittersweet nostalgia. Among them stood Momo and Jihyo, placed side by side by nothing more than fate or a cruel joke from the universe.

Jihyo looked at Momo, a faint, tired smile on her lips. "You did it," she said softly, the warmth in her voice barely masking the emptiness in her chest. "I'm so proud of you, Momo."

Momo turned to her, nodding as she adjusted the tassel on her cap. "Thanks. Honestly, didn’t think I’d make it." She chuckled, but it felt empty, distant.

Jihyo did. She knew Momo would make it, because she had been there every step of the way—every late-night study session, every extra assignment, every small encouragement whispered between notes and sighs of frustration. But now, as they stood on the cusp of the future, all of that felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

"You actually worked hard," Sana chimed in from Momo’s other side, nudging her playfully. "I was getting worried for a second that you'd have to take another year."

Momo shrugged, glancing back at Jihyo, who was staring straight ahead, lips slightly parted, like she wanted to say something. But the words didn’t come. Instead, she inhaled sharply, plastering on a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"I got a job offer," Jihyo said after a beat, her voice deceptively light. "It’s… perfect for my major."

Momo blinked, not fully registering the weight behind her words. "That’s great."

Jihyo let out a small laugh. "Yeah… it’s abroad."

Momo nodded slowly. "Oh. Wow. When do you leave?"

Jihyo hesitated. "Soon."

Momo should've asked for details. Should've asked what that meant, where she was going, why it felt like Jihyo was looking at her like she was silently screaming for her to care more, to understand. But she didn’t. She just nodded again, offering an easy, clueless, "That’s cool. I’m happy for you."

The ceremony blurred by. Jihyo barely remembered walking across the stage, the weight of the diploma in her hands, the cheers that followed. Her mind was elsewhere, drowning in the unbearable ache in her chest.

And then it was over. Students filtered out in every direction, hugging, crying, taking pictures. Momo was about to leave, her back turned, when Jihyo moved.

"Momo!"

Momo stopped, turning back as Jihyo rushed toward her, breathless, a slightly crumpled letter clutched in her trembling hands.

"Here," Jihyo said, pressing the envelope against Momo's chest. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she swore it echoed in her ears. "Read it."

Momo furrowed her brows, glancing down at the thick paper in her hands. "What is this?"

"Just read it."

Momo sighed, unfolding the letter, her eyes scanning the first few lines. Jihyo watched her closely, holding her breath, feeling like the ground beneath her feet was crumbling with every passing second.

She had poured everything into this. Five pages—five excruciating pages filled with everything she had been too afraid to say out loud. Every unsaid confession, every moment she had fallen a little more in love, every quiet ache of frustration, longing, and heartbreak she had buried deep inside her chest.

And yet, as Momo read, her expression didn’t change. No realization, no reaction. She was just… reading, as if it were an assignment, something to be processed rather than felt.

Jihyo clenched her fists. "Do you get it now?" her voice cracked, an edge of desperation seeping through.

Momo finally looked up, confused. "Jihyo, I—"

Jihyo’s heart sank. She could see it—the complete and utter lack of understanding in Momo’s eyes. It was like staring at a wall, screaming into the void. The weight of every bottled-up emotion hit her all at once, an unbearable wave of frustration, humiliation, and heartache.

"Oh my God," Jihyo breathed, stepping back, running a trembling hand through her hair. "You really don’t get it."

Momo’s lips parted slightly, something uncertain flickering in her gaze. "Jihyo, what are you talking about?"

That was it. That was the breaking point.

Jihyo let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging her eyes as she snatched the letter back from Momo's hands. "I give up," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I fucking give up."

Momo frowned. "Jihyo—"

"I wasted what felt like years on you!" Jihyo’s voice cracked as she shoved Momo away, the letter slipping from her grasp and hitting the ground. "Years! Thinking maybe one day you'd notice—maybe one day you'd see me!"

Momo just stood there, frozen.

"I did everything! I was always there! And you—" Jihyo's voice broke completely, her body trembling as the emotions clawed their way out. "You never even fucking looked at me the same way."

Momo opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Jihyo let out a broken, breathless laugh. "You wanna know the worst part? I knew. I knew you’d never feel the same, and I still let myself hope. Stupid, right?" She wiped at her tears angrily, her body shaking from the sheer force of it all.

Momo took a hesitant step forward. "Jihyo, I—"

"No," Jihyo snapped, taking another step back. "Don't. Just—don't."

She turned on her heel, walking away, leaving behind the five pages of her heart crumpled and stomped into the dirt. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

And as the crowd swallowed her whole, Momo was left standing there, staring at the ruined letter, the words she should have understood too late slipping between her fingers like sand.

Jihyo stormed into the dorm, the door slamming shut behind her as she gasped for breath. Her whole body shook, her hands trembling as she wiped at her soaked face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She was used to running to Nayeon, throwing herself onto her bed and sobbing into her shoulder while Nayeon held her and told her it would be okay. But tonight, Nayeon wasn’t here. Tonight, she was alone.

A broken sob clawed its way up her throat as she stumbled into her room, collapsing onto the floor as she pressed her fists against her temples. The room felt suffocating. Everywhere she looked, it was her. Momo’s sweater draped over her chair, the leftover snacks they had shared still sitting on her desk, the damn polaroids taped above her bed, each one capturing a memory that now burned like an open wound.

Jihyo let out a choked scream and grabbed the nearest thing—her journal. The small, worn-out book that had held every moment, every thought, every feeling she had ever had for Momo. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages, reading her own handwriting, her confessions, her desperation, her love—

She threw it across the room.

Her chest heaved as she pressed her palms against her forehead, her nails digging into her scalp. “You’re so stupid,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

Her breaths came out short and ragged, frustration and heartbreak intertwining as she grabbed at her hair, yanking at the strands as if the pain would drown out the ache in her chest. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

Her gaze flickered to the scattered pages of her journal, polaroids slipping from between them like memories spilling onto the floor. She reached for one, her fingers shaking as she picked it up. It was one of their tutoring sessions—Momo grinning with a pen held lazily in her mouth while Jihyo smiled beside her, eyes full of something so painfully obvious it made her want to tear the picture apart.

And she did.

With a strangled sob, Jihyo ripped it down the middle, then again, and again. She grabbed more pages, tearing them apart, every confession, every secret feeling she had ever written, reduced to scraps. Her room became a storm of shredded pages and broken polaroids as she destroyed every piece of her love, her pain, her hope. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Her legs gave out, and she crumpled onto the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of her emotions. Her chest ached, her breath coming in short gasps as she stared blankly at the ceiling, empty and exhausted.

The silence was deafening. The storm had passed, but the damage remained.

Slowly, she reached for her phone with shaking hands, her fingers numb as she dialed.

The ringing felt like it lasted an eternity before someone picked up.

“I’m ready to book a flight,” Jihyo whispered, her voice hoarse and barely above a breath. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

There was a pause on the other end, then the person hesitantly asked, “Are you sure?”

Jihyo closed her eyes, her grip tightening around the phone as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Positive..”

—

Momo sat slouched in her chair, staring at the front of the classroom, but not really seeing anything. Her fingers tapped against the desk absentmindedly, her knee bouncing slightly. Something felt off. The morning had been quiet—too quiet. She hadn’t seen Jihyo all day. Not in the halls, not at their usual coffee spot, not even when she passed by her dorm. A weird feeling twisted in her gut, but she pushed it aside. Maybe Jihyo was just busy.

Then she heard it.

“She left this morning,” Nayeon whispered to a friend behind her. “Caught a flight overseas. She didn’t even say goodbye properly.” Momo’s entire body stiffened. The pen in her grip snapped in half, ink smudging onto her fingers.

“What?” The word barely made it past her lips.

Nayeon turned her head slightly, eyes widening as she realized Momo had heard her. She bit her lip, hesitating. “Momo, listen—”

But Momo was already shoving her chair back, the screech of the legs dragging against the floor echoing through the classroom. Heads turned toward her, whispers picking up.

“Miss Hirai—” the professor called, but Momo wasn’t listening. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stormed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Someone grabbed her wrist—Dahyun. “Momo, class isn’t over, you can’t just—”

“I have to go,” Momo muttered, wrenching her hand away. She was halfway to the door when another hand caught her backpack, jerking her back slightly.

“Momo, stop!” This time it was Sana. Her eyes were wide, filled with something between concern and frustration. “You’re acting crazy—”

“She left,” Momo said, voice cracking. Her stomach churned, her breath coming out uneven. “Jihyo left.”

Silence fell over the room.

Sana’s grip on her strap loosened just slightly. Momo didn’t waste the chance—she yanked herself free and bolted out the door.

“Momo, damn it!” Sana shouted after her, but Momo didn’t stop.

She ran.

Through the halls, down the stairwell, past students who barely had time to register the blur rushing by them. Her mind was racing, her chest tight as she tried to push away the rising panic.

This wasn’t real.

Jihyo wouldn’t just leave.

She wouldn’t.

Momo skidded to a stop in front of Jihyo’s dorm, her hands shaking as she reached for the doorknob. It was unlocked.

She threw the door open.

Empty.

Momo stood frozen in place, breath hitching.

Jihyo’s side of the room was completely barren. The usual clutter of books, hair ties, and coffee cups were gone. The walls, once lined with notes and reminders, were blank. Her bed was made, too neat, as if she had wanted to erase all traces of herself before leaving.

Momo’s fingers curled into fists at her sides.

She took a step inside, almost hoping—almost praying—she’d find something that proved Jihyo wasn’t actually gone.

Then she saw it.

A small trash bag at the foot of the bed.

Momo swallowed, her throat dry. Slowly, cautiously, she approached. The plastic crinkled as she crouched down and untied it, heart hammering against her ribs.

Inside were scraps of paper, torn and crumpled photos, pieces of what looked like journal pages. Momo hesitated before reaching in, her fingers brushing against the torn edges of a polaroid. She pulled it out, smoothing it against her thigh.

It was a picture of her and Jihyo, slightly wrinkled but still clear. They were smiling—Jihyo’s arm around her shoulder, her grin wide and unfiltered.

Momo’s chest tightened painfully. A strange, unfamiliar pang bloomed in her ribs, like something was twisting inside her.

She clenched her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek. Then, without thinking, she grabbed the entire bag, clutching it tightly.

She wasn’t letting this go.

She wasn’t letting Jihyo go.

TO BE CONTINUED..

#Spotify #wlw #twice #angst #jihyo angst #momo angst #mohyo #momo x jihyo #twice angst #gxg #kpop gg #twice smut #kpop

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