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the-boy-meets-evil · 3 months

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34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda, v light) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.8k (idk what happened) warnings: art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, VERY ambiguous ending smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, multiple positions, unprotected sex (don't do this), slightly rough sex, mild dom!wonwoo?, fingering, oral sex, choking, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, light marking, semi-public sex, food play (whipped cream, chocolate), i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's world tour collab (check out the other fics here). i had so much fun writing this even if it got away from me a bit. thanks to @effortandmore for lending me her art brain. thanks to @highvern for constantly listening to me and @multi-kpop-fanfics for fit inspo. and as always, thank you to my bby @wongyuseokie for the banner & divider.

edited to add: i am considering an epilogue if that’s something anyone is interested in

tag list: @wonustars, @minisugakoobies, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @sdoulc, @wonwootakemyheart, @divinityyyy, @nightshadeinmoonlight, @imma-queencard, @jelly-n

“We’ll be landing in about 45 minutes, according to the pilot,” a voice says, interrupting your laser-like focus.

You look up from your tablet and blink at him for a second. It takes you a moment or two to register he’s even standing there. Another moment to register what he actually said to you a second ago. In the meantime, you switch the program open on your tablet.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in response.

He sits down in the seat opposite you and fixes you with a smile. “Must be a good book, you’ve barely looked up for the entire flight.”

“Guilty,” you say with a practiced smile.

Chan, you think that’s his name, seems nice enough. A little overeager and too ready to agree to something when his bosses tell him what to do. There’s that real thirst to prove himself. But, at least from what you hear, he’s got a bright future. He’s done well with what he’s been given so far, which are increasingly difficult assignments. You can see why. He’s easy on the eyes and he’s got that soft smile down. The kind of unassuming smile that makes people want to trust him. If he can keep it up, he’ll go far.

“Thanks again for letting me catch a ride,” you say to fill some of the space between you.

Chan only shrugs. “Any friend of Mr. Choi’s is always welcome. Plus, nobody really says no when the boss says something.”

A lesser person would have probably laughed at that. Hearing him referred to as Mr. Choi and the boss is a little comical to you. Not that it isn’t true because he is definitely Chan’s boss. It’s just, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.

“Honestly I don’t really even understand what Cheol does,” you lie and turn on a little bit of the charm. It’s always good to practice on people that are trained to be charming themselves.

“Do you call him that?” Chan wonders.

“Call him what? Cheol?” you ask and Chan nods, eyes a little wide. It catches him just off guard enough. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. What do you call him?”

“Sir, usually,” Chan answers too quickly. You can’t fully fight the smile that answer brings to your lips. “Glad to see I entertained you.”

“He’s not nearly as bad as I’m sure he seems at work,” you say like you’re sharing a secret.

The truth is that you’ve been hearing about this new agent that Seungcheol is personally training for over a year now. So, you know that eventually, you’re going to all be laughing at this conversation in hindsight and he’ll also be calling his boss Cheol. For now, though, things are a little bit different.

“He mentioned that you were heading down to do some research?” he asks and you nod.

This part has always been a little tedious to you, the part where you come up with a cover story that you even have to feed to other people within the same organization. It’s been this way for your entire career. You were recruited at 18 years old and went through special training along with obtaining a degree. The Agency had two divisions, but you only ever learned about the second one if you were recruited to work there. It was that second division you joined right away.

Training had been grueling. If it wasn’t some kind of physical endurance training, it was sitting in a windowless room studying history or a foreign language. Or it was combat training with whatever weapon was on deck that day. Or working to blend into any situation. You quickly learned that did not mean not being memorable. At least not in every situation. Sometimes that meant looking at ease in your surroundings even if eyes were on you. Thankfully, the charm seemed to come naturally to you and that was one less thing you had to worry about learning.

The Agency officially works in maintaining international relationships between countries. That can mean a number of different things. Sometimes it involves an agent or team heading out to a location as official representatives. They can help with negotiation, security concerns, smoothing out issues, anything really. Unofficially, it often involves going undercover on a mission. That can involve either division, depending on the sensitivity of the mission. If it’s simpler, then someone like Chan gets sent out to work his way into a situation and influence the outcome so that everything stays calm. In fact, he’s here to charm a wealthy heiress that’s getting a little too close to revealing confidential information on government contracts.

You, on the other hand, are officially here to study Argentinian culture and immerse yourself in local traditions. Chan doesn’t know that you work for The Agency as well. He doesn’t know that Seungcheol is like a boss to you. It’s not his preference. Seungcheol misses the days when he was by your side in the field instead of stuck in the office behind a desk. Unfortunately, several years ago he suffered a severe injury that just made field work impossible for him. It took a lot of convincing, most of which fell on your shoulders as the person closest to him, to get him to transition to his current role. Where you had never set foot in the main offices, he had been there periodically. He was known to people there. And he was so insanely smart that you pointed out he would be bored trying to assimilate into regular life. Why not get to do one of his other favorite things and tell younger agents (or even older ones) what to do? That had been the biggest selling point because he was good at being in charge. It had been a bit of a rocky transition at first, but now it’s smooth sailing.

Unofficially, you’re here tracking one of the most infamous art thieves in the world. This is the kind of thing that has to be handled with the utmost secrecy. Other agencies and your own have tried to track him down and apprehend him only to have him slip into the wind. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d assume that there had been leaks during the previous attempts. You’ve also considered that he’s just really good at making a mark and blending into his surroundings. This is one of the most secretive missions you’ve ever been sent on despite seeming relatively innocuous. How much harm can an art thief really cause, right? Except, The Agency is largely funded by private investors and several of those investors have been victims and had art stolen. Despite that, the only people that know you’re making this attempt now are Seungcheol and the head of covert operations. His counterpart doesn’t know that you’re handling it, or even who you are. Instead, the main division of The Agency has a team headed to Amsterdam thinking that they’re after the notorious thief.

Although it seems like it should be straight forward, this thief has been working in the shadows for years without anyone really knowing what he looks like beyond him being a man. The reports about what he actually looks like vary so greatly that nobody really knows what to believe. You and Seungcheol have spent months trying to put together a profile that seems most realistic and you feel as comfortable as you can. His appearance seems a little elusive, but the information that he’s going to be in Buenos Aires is the best lead you’ve gotten. It comes from someone that you worked with on a previous mission. You had been studying your profiles when Chan came over and quickly exited to a different application.

“I am. I’m working on understanding the history of Argentinian culture through the eyes of Buenos Aires for a project,” you say with all the affection of someone who was actually going to be doing that. “I’m going to spend most of my time just out talking to people, learning their stories, that kind of thing.”

“Do you, uh, speak Spanish?” Chan wonders with clear apprehension.

“I do,” you say with a light laugh. “Be a bit awkward if I didn’t, right?”

“That’s impressive,” he says.

“I speak several languages,” you say nonchalantly and then make a show of catching his eye. “I studied language and culture in university.”

“You’re not what I’d imagine for one of my boss’s friends,” Chan admits. “Especially one close enough to get added to the manifest.”

You shrug. “I’ve known him for a long time.”

“He doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of time for friendships or someone that you can ever really know,” Chan presses and you laugh.

“Married to the job, right?” you agree. “I’m a low maintenance friend. I spend a lot of time out of town for research, immersed in local culture. We’ve probably got more in common that you’d think.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” he concedes, seeming to easily buy your cover. He stands up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

The rest of the flight goes smoothly and you say your goodbyes to Chan and the others from the flight once you get off the plane. As is the plan, you take your suitcases to a local taxi and head to your hotel, checking in under one of the many fake names you used when on a mission. The room is nice, too, even if it’s nothing all that extravagant. It’s just another part of the cover.

Since it’s been a long day, you figure that you might as well just order room service and settle in for the night. It’ll give you the chance to start getting your body used to the local timezone. Not that your body really has a home timezone anymore with how you’re constantly on the move. But, you still don’t mind the idea of resting for the night.

You’re incredibly thankful to be in Buenos Aires in July since it’s the coolest month. It makes it easier for you to just walk everywhere. Before leaving your room for your first full day in your new city, you double check your messenger bag to make sure everything is in there: camera, multiple lenses, journal, tablet and keyboard, sunglasses, wallet, and all your little bits to make it look like a bag you wear all the time. You smile at the receptionist on your way out, letting her know that you’re going off to explore what the city has to offer. She seems happy to see that you look better rested than after your long travel day. Even if heading out is mostly a cover for your mission, it’s also a little true. This city has been on your bucket list to visit for years and you’re not going to waste what might be your only opportunity to explore. It might even make it more believable as you’re trying to blend into the crowds around you.

After spending several hours wandering around and taking in everything you could, you find yourself at a local cafe in the early afternoon to have a cup of coffee and a light lunch. The whole morning flew by in a rush of colors and culture. It’s so easy to be interested in everything that’s before you because it’s just so vibrant. So full of life. Such a juxtaposition of history, tradition, and new influences. It’s one of the first times you’ve been somewhere and had to remind yourself that you are actually on a mission. You’re not just there to sightsee and fall in love.

There are a lot of tourists in the cafe, which doesn’t really surprise you. Most places in Buenos Aires stay open during the afternoon for tourism, but you know that cafes in smaller towns would close. You figure that most locals probably avoid shops during this time of day as well. It feels lucky when you spot an open table in the corner until another patron moves and you see there’s actually someone sitting in one of the seats. It’s an uncharacteristically awkward moment for you, especially given how confident you are with everything else, that he catches you mid-decision. His eyes meet yours before looking at the coffee in one hand and the plate in the other. When he looks back down at the table, it clicks into place before you can turn around.

“You, uh, can sit…” he starts with deliberate slowness that shouldn’t be throwing you off even more.

You shake your head to clear it and smile. “It’s fine, I don’t just speak Spanish.”

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “Well, you can sit here.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say and go to turn around.

“It’s busy. Are you going to just eat standing up?” he asks with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

“Well,” you start.

“I probably won’t be here much longer anyway,” he offers.

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged.

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs.

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look.

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera.

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh.

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.”

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.”

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures.

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window.

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. It’s convenient, though. Not that you expected to be talking to someone like him about photography.

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card.

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles.

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.”

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel.

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease.

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “Besides, it wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.”

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture.

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.”

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

And just like that, he’s gone. Slips into the crowd like he wasn’t even there in the first place. It makes you wonder, just for a second, if the entire exchange actually happened. Until you look back at the table and see the cup of coffee he had been drinking. Beside it, you notice a small piece of paper advertising a new installation at one of the local art museums. Not entirely out of the question, you think, for someone visiting this city and also interested in seeing your camera.

It’s then that you remind yourself why you’re actually here. You shake your head to clear it of any thoughts of the stranger, knowing you can’t make any effort to run into him again. The mission is the only thing that matters. Getting close to someone that could distract you in that way is not part of the plan. So, you can appreciate the banter and get back on track.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You continue to explore the city while always keeping your eyes and ears open for any indication of the art thief. It’s a little frustrating to not have much to go on, but you’re also one of the most patient agents and you know it’ll pay off eventually. Seungcheol keeps in regular contact, sending along each new nugget of information he’s able to find. Even if they’re seemingly insignificant, you file them all away, appreciating how hard you know he’s working given how few people know about the mission. He has to pull the relevant pieces to send to you without tipping off the team in Amsterdam.

You’re also splitting your days. Making sure to get out to experience the local culture to maintain your cover, while spending just as much time locked away in your room so that you can do your own research. Everything points to him already being in the city as well. It also seems like this next heist might be two-fold for him. It appears that he’s got a client that wants a specific piece of art and that he’s also going to steal some pieces for himself to sell at later dates. It’s a bit unusual, from what you’ve been able to tell. He usually likes to keep each job simple to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. Then again, he’s been active for years and doing just fine.

Today you decide to go to check out a museum that you’ve been putting off. It’s silly, but you didn’t want to show up there the day after that cafe since it seemed a little convenient to leave behind. You have to familiarize yourself with all the museums in the city, though, and it seems like this one could be your thief’s target. It has just the right amount of traffic. Just the right combination of popular pieces with lesser known artists.

Once you’re there, you immediately move away from the popular sections. That’s not the kind of art you’re after because it’s not the kind of art the thief ever steals. It’s too recognizable. Too hard to move. Just too risky. Once you’re in a quieter part of the museum, you fight off any feelings of being a fraud. Art has never really been your strong suit. If it weren’t for this mission being so sensitive, you definitely would not be the first agent anyone would choose. But, it is sensitive and so you have to rely on your training to carry you through any conversations that might pop up. You have to rely on the hours spent pouring over lectures about the different styles and influences, the different periods, different techniques. Hopefully your talent at rote memorization will serve you well.

“It’s a shame they keep one of the best artists tucked away in a corner like this,” a voice says from your side, pulling you from your thoughts.

You answer without even thinking much about the voice or even turning to see the person who appeared next to you nearly soundlessly. “Makes it easier to appreciate in peace, though.”

“You like surrealism, then?” he asks and it’s only then that you notice something familiar about the voice or the manner of speaking. Or the fact that he’s not speaking to you in Spanish.

Before you even turn to your side, you know who you’re going to find. He’s looking just as put together and at-ease as he did several days ago in the cafe. His hands rest in his pockets, but his eyes on you are sharp. There’s something a little hard to read about him, you think.

The smile you give him is practiced, designed to seem genuine. “I like Leonor Fini.”

“You’ve got good taste,” he says and turns back to the piece.

“I do like surrealism,” you carry on, turning back to the piece yourself as well, “but, with her work, I really appreciate the way she used female subjects through a female lens. Too many artists…”

You trail off, pretending you’re unsure if you should continue. He falls into the setup easily. “Men could only show female subjects through their own eyes, but women look different through the eyes of other women.”

“Exactly,” you say and smile at him before turning back to the painting again. “There’s something so captivating about the work she did.”

“I agree. That’s why this is my favorite piece here and in my favorite section of works,” he says confidently.

“You already have a favorite?” you joke.

“Well, I’ve been here every day for the past several days,” he shares.

This makes you turn to him fully. “Because you love this section and this work so much?”

This mysterious man actually looks down like he’s embarrassed to admit whatever he’s about to tell you. Like he’s gotten shy for a moment. “I do, but I was actually hoping to run into you.”

That catches you a bit off guard and it takes your brain a minute to remember, once again, you’re here on a mission. “It would have been easier to run into me if you just asked for my number.”

“Kind of ruins this whole mysterious thing I have going on, though,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and extend your hand, giving him your fake name for the mission. His eyes sparkle for a second before he takes your hand.

“Wonwoo,” he answers.

“Nice to finally get your name,” you tease.

“I figured you’d come check out the museum when I left the card there at the cafe,” Wonwoo says.

“I knew that was on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yet you didn’t come until today,” he observes.

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy on you,” you throw out quickly.

“Okay, time to switch tactics, then,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure, can you?” you ask.

“Please let me take you to dinner,” he says.

It’s a bad idea and you know it. Everything about him screams distraction. This isn’t what you’re in Buenos Aires to do. Yet, there’s something about him that has you curious. There’s also the fact that this museum seems to be the most likely target for the art thief and this man admitted he’s been here every day. A small part of your brain is sending up alarm signals to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t seem like a secret art thief, but hasn’t your training taught you how to hide in plain sight? It’s entirely possible he’s doing the same.

Your brain goes into overdrive as it often does on missions. There are a million little details in the pages of your profile on the art thief. They come flooding back to you. The profile so thoughtfully pieced together by The Agency says he’s probably unassuming. The kind of man that fits into any situation in the same way as you do, like he’s not trying to fit in and it means he doesn’t stand out as not belonging. The profile suggests that he’s confident. That he would appear calm. Most importantly, he’s the kind of person that would absolutely look at home in the midst of art. So, whether it’s a good idea or not, you know you’re going to say yes. He must see the answer in your eyes before you voice it because he smirks.

“What time?”

Wonwoo offers to pick you up at your hotel, but you insist that you’ll meet him at the restaurant. It’s safer that way, after all, being a woman traveling alone. At least that’s what you tell him. Not that anything about Wonwoo seems that threatening and you’re better equipped to handle yourself than most. You just don’t need him anywhere near your room even with everything put away. After going back to get ready, you made time to pour over the information you have. The more you consider it, the more it seems plausible that he could be exactly who you’re looking for. There’s only one issue: he asked you out. Everything you have suggests that he made agents in the past and slipped into the wind. You’re not cocky enough to think you’re too good to fall victim to the same fate. You keep your update to Seungcheol vague in case the lead doesn’t pan out.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo picks a nice place off the beaten path for dinner. It’s not overrun with tourists and it’s not too expensive. Like him, it’s unassuming but quietly impressive. You try not to let your heart skip a beat when you see him in a simple white dress shirt and black dress pants. He stands to pull your seat out for you and then settles back into his seat across from you. This is for the sake of the mission. Either he’s the person you’re looking for or you’ll have enjoyed a free and tasty meal. Nothing more to it.

His Spanish, it turns out, isn’t that great and so you help him through ordering since it’s definitely a place more for the locals. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get your help. You’re not really sure you mind either way. He makes suggestions about which wines he prefers, but ultimately lets you pick, insisting that he will take care of whatever you land on. Once you get through ordering and all the small talk, it gives you a chance to really get to know him.

“Have you been here before?” you ask.

“This restaurant or this city?” he asks.

“Either,” you shrug.

“No to both,” he answers. “Clearly, my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’m so lucky that I found someone who’s so fluent.”

“I’m not sure I believe you can’t speak the language,” you muse.

“I can speak enough Spanish to get by, but it’s not that good,” he assures you.

“Interesting place to visit, then,” you observe.

“I’d miss out on a lot of beauty if I only went where I spoke the language fluently,” he retorts and you smile genuinely at that. He’s right.

“Like the art in the museum?” you suggest.

“Or a charming stranger,” he counters. You’re impressed. “I do like the art as well, though.”

“What other beautiful places have you visited?” you ask.

“Oh, I hardly think it’s that interesting,” he dismisses.

“Humor me,” you say.

There’s a moment where he’s careful in listing off places. Like he’s weighing something that you can’t really place. He ends up listing some places that catch your attention. Each of them has some wonderful art museums and it piques your curiosity. You try to look just politely interested, commenting on how he’s lucky to be able to travel as extensively as he seems to. He plays it off with a vague comment about being fortunate with help from his family. It’s the kind of thing that you know passes on a first date. It’s not appropriate to mention money on a first date. So, that would be fine, if it didn’t also make you curious about who this man really was. After all, your art thief being well connected through family would definitely make sense.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, you try to enjoy it. Not that it’s hard to do. Wonwoo is actually a lot of fun to be around. The conversation flows easily and you’re able to connect on a lot of shared interests. At least, interests that you pretend to have for the sake of this mission. But, it feels like he might also be pretending on some of his interests. He’s just a little too calm and put together. A little too quick with his answers. A little too rehearsed with his comments. Maybe you wouldn’t think twice if you weren’t doing the same.

By the time you finish the main course, you’re pretty sure that you managed to stumble into a date with the exact person that you’re here looking for based on his stories. It may have been a guess before. It feels nearly for sure now. He mentions how you have to visit Japan when the cherry blossoms are blooming, which sounds stunning. He mentions Oktoberfest in Munich and how he barely remembers anything from that trip. Then there's the ice festival in China, Nordlysfestivalen in Norway, and a few other locations that sound beautiful. They also have one thing in common. Each place is also on your list for stolen art around the time of the events.

Once you finish dessert, you’re making a decision that you know you should really clear with someone else before making. Sure, you’re pretty sure that Wonwoo is the art thief. And yes, it’s true that keeping an eye on him is in your best interest. One way to do that is to continue with the date. Yet, you’re not stopping to check in with Seungcheol. You’re not analyzing the pros and cons of doing this. After giving Seungcheol a vague update about a lead and promising you’ll have more information later on, he should be the first person you call. He’s not swept up in the atmosphere of a foreign city with a gorgeous stranger. No, you don’t do any of that. You’re just agreeing to go back to his room with him without a second thought. He’s painfully hot and you’re incredibly attracted to him, which is wildly unprofessional. But, you’re not sure you care. At least for the night. You can figure it all out later.

Wonwoo is quietly confident without being cocky. His gaze is so penetrating that it feels like he’s undressing you without it being slimy. He can hold a conversation about seemingly anything, but he’s also just as interested in what you have to say. In fact, you have his attention the whole night, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a little overwhelming to have someone so focused on you. But, when it feels a little overwhelming, he makes a perfectly timed, slightly sarcastic joke that makes you laugh harder than you should. The smile you wear all throughout the date is genuine. You’re actually enjoying yourself so much that you’re not sure you want it to end. Life has never felt so simultaneously complicated and easy.

Wonwoo’s lips are hot on yours as he cages you against the door of his hotel room. That intensity you saw all dinner reappears and you feel like you might burn under his touch. He’s so in control. You’re still not entirely sure how you wound up here, but you’re not really trying to think too hard about it. The fact that he’s almost definitely the art thief becomes an issue for future-you the second he kisses you like it’s your last day on Earth. It’s not like he knows you’re tracking his movements and it isn’t exactly a bad thing to keep a closer eye on him. Nor is it the first time you’ve done something like this. It is the first time you’ve done it without thought, though, and genuinely been interested in the man you let seduce you.

He has his body pressed against yours with his arms on either side of you so there really is nowhere to go. It’s kind of hot and you’re not even pretending to be turned on. A definite bonus. Your hands quickly undo his belt so that you can pull the edges of his shirt out. The moment your hands make contact with his skin, he pulls away and hisses. They’re likely cold, not that you care. It gives you the chance to catch his lower lip between your teeth. You watch his eyes darken with lust as you run your hands up his back, scratching down lightly.

“Just who do you think is in control here, baby?” His voice is so low in your ear that it makes you swallow hard. Everything about the endearment sounds sarcastic and it shouldn’t work, but you’re only human. Then he nips at your earlobe and you actually moan.

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenge. It feels like a lot of heat between you. If your head were clearer, you might consider that it feels like two people who know they shouldn’t be fucking. Almost like he’s punishing you a little, which he might want to, given why you’re here.

“That’s a dangerous question,” he warns you.

“Afraid I can’t handle it?” you ask and watch the way it nearly breaks his composure. You press forward into him, pulling him down so his ear is by your mouth now. Barely raise your voice above a whisper. “I’m not that fragile. I can handle a little pain.”

That seems to set him off. You’re worried for a second when he pulls away, but that disappears as you watch his nimble fingers rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt. He casts it aside and looks back at you.

“I want you stripped naked and on the bed,” he commands.

You’re not typically in the habit of taking commands but something about him makes you want to listen. Even if you want to challenge him a little. He turns his back and you do strip down. Mostly. You climb onto the bed wearing only your panties, legs spread open and waiting for him. When he turns around, you miss the flare of his nostrils at your defiance looking at his muscles. For someone so unassuming, he was certainly in good shape.

“Is this your idea of naked?” he questions.

It’s funny, since he’s still got his boxer briefs on, though they leave little to the imagination. You can already see that he’s getting hard from the lead up.

“I thought I’d leave that honor for you,” you say, injecting as much innocence as you can muster into every word.

Wonwoo looks at you for another long second before climbing onto the bed and getting between your legs. He pushes them further open and you bite down on your lip.

“You don’t get to muffle those moans from me, sweetheart,” he teases, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

“Or what?” you challenge again.

He raises an eyebrow at you and pulls his hand away from your thigh. You’re about to whine when he brings it back in a sharp slap.

“Shit,” you hiss.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. You nod with big eyes. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, yes, I liked it,” you rush out the second his finger traces a light line up your clothed cunt.

“I can tell,” he snarks. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. He pulls his hand away and looks at you surprisingly soft for a second.

“Tell me if it is,” he repeats.

“I will,” you promise.

“Good,” he says and hooks his fingers inside the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and casting them aside in one motion. “That’s better.”

In another surprise, Wonwoo doesn’t dive right into your cunt the way you expect him to given how frenzied everything has been so far. Instead, he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh. Pausing occasionally to nip into the skin before running his tongue over the mark to soothe it. You’re writhing on the bed by the time his breath ghosts across your cunt. The chuckle is low and deep as you squirm when he moves to your other thigh. You’re going to die before he even touches you.

“Jesus fuck, Wonwoo, if you don’t start eating me out…” you start, a hand winding into his hair.

He pops up and glares at you. “You’ll what? Did you already forget who’s in charge?”

“I’ll…” you start, before cutting off with a sharp, “FUCK!”

He’s still got his eyes on you when his thumb runs quickly through your folds to press against your clit. There’s barely any movement but it anchors you in place. “That’s what I thought.”

His kisses up your other thigh are much sloppier with a thumb still in place. It only makes you squirm more, searching for some kind of relief. When he finally gets to your lips, you expect he’s going to tease you again. You’re wrong. Again. His tongue dives into your pussy while his other hand keeps you spread open. This man knows what he’s doing and it’s immediately more than you’re expecting. You can’t stop your legs from snapping closed to box him in. That is, until he pulls his hands off you to spread your legs wide again, giving him the best access to you. It’s clear that he’s in charge and he wants you to know it.

It’s everything you can do not to thrash around, but Wonwoo seems to be ready to help there. He’s got a hand on your stomach anchoring you down to the bed. You’re not even sure how he’s got enough hands to move them along your body the way he seems to. Without warning, he moves his mouth up to pay attention to your clit. And he doesn’t give you a break, sliding two fingers into you and immediately scissoring them open. He sets a brutal pace, curling his fingers to hit you where he seems to know you need him on some of the passes.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, oh my god, fuck,” you scream out.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he sneers at you from between your legs.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan. “Your fingers, oh my god.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

In the next moment, you’re coming so hard you squirt over those amazing fingers of his. Your vision whites out around the edges and your toes are curling. It’s all you can do to catch your breath as Wonwoo’s fingers pump through the high.

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard,” you admit.

“We’re not done yet,” he shares and the tone of his voice has you nearly clenching your legs together. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.”

“So bossy,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You turn over anyway, though, and put your ass in the air.

“This is a really good fucking view,” he says. You feel the bed dip when he gets back in place after removing his boxers.

Wonwoo has one hand on your hip and the other is running up your back to press you down further. To help you get that perfect arch of your back. You wiggle your ass at him and are rewarded with a stinging smack. Your moan is muffled by the pillow, so you turn your head to the side. Already know he wants to hear you. When he smacks your other ass check, you nearly scream out.

“That’s it, I want to hear you,” he encourages.

“Please, Wonwoo, just fuck me already,” you beg.

“One orgasm wasn’t enough?” he asks and you can hear the cockiness in his voice. Bringing a ringing smack down on your ass again. You scream out at the sting.

“No, I want you to split me open,” you whine. In any other situation you might be embarrassed by the admission, but not now. Not with him. Not when it’s so clearly turning him on.

“Greedy little thing,” he comments. His fingers press into your cunt again and you nearly yelp.

There’s no time to adjust when Wonwoo removes his fingers and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. With one snap of his hips, he’s fully inside you and you’re hissing. He’s bigger than you were guessing, even with the outline in his boxers. And he doesn’t give you a break as he starts fucking you hard. All you can hear is the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the mingled moans from both of you. You’re sensitive from both the pace and the earlier orgasm. Your legs feel like they would collapse under you if they could.

As if the pace isn’t enough, Wonwoo snakes an arm around you to reach for your clit, rubbing circles into it at the same pace as his thrusts. You can tell he’s nowhere near close, but you’re about to lose control again and you’re not sure how to stop it.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, slower, I’m going to - fuck!” you whine out.

“You gonna come again? So soon, baby?” he taunts.

“I can’t - fuck, please,” you beg. “I’m so close.”

“I want you to make a mess of my dick the same way you made a mess of my fingers,” Wonwoo directs.

“But you haven’t…” you start and Wonwoo removes his hand from your clit. You cry out at the loss until his other hand grabs your hair to yank you back against his chest. When it’s clear you’re not going to move, his hand moves from your hair to your throat.

“I want you to come for me. Right now. Show me how good I feel inside that tight pussy,” he directs.

It’s one of the most surprising reactions, the way your body immediately responds to him. He’s got you coming just as hard as the first time and he doesn’t give you a chance to second guess any of it. As the shocks rip through your body, you notice that Wonwoo does slow down his thrusts. Doesn’t pull out of you, though. You collapse forward and arch your back again so it’s easier to meet Wonwoo’s continued pace.

“You’re so good at listening,” he praises.

“Not usually,” you mumble into the pillow through the haze.

“I must be special,” he says as he lazily fucks into you.

“Jesus Wonwoo, you can fuck me. I know you haven’t finished yet,” you grumble.

“In a rush to go somewhere?” he teases.

“No, but it must be…well, I don’t know. Hard for you,” you mumble into the sheets.

“I’ve got excellent control,” Wonwoo says, all confidence. “I’m not in a rush to end this.”

Despite your instance, he continues to lazily snap his hips into you. It’s so slow, way too slow. He reaches down to pull you up against his chest again, still keeping the pace. His hands are on your breasts, squeezing them to anchor you to him. He rolls one of your nipples roughly between his fingers to see what he gets as a reaction. Your moan seems to spur him on further. Each time pain shoots through some part of your body, it only seems to turn you on more. It’s easy to forget why you agreed to this in the first place.

For all the demands, Wonwoo is actually very attentive as well. He peppers kisses from behind your ear all the way down your shoulder and back, paying special attention to the areas that seem to get the best response from you. He’s also careful with where he nips you, never biting hard enough to leave a mark somewhere that couldn’t be easily hidden. The entire experience has been so all-consuming that there isn’t space for any other thoughts in your head. It’s just him and this hotel room that’s entirely too fancy.

He must feel that you’re starting to get worked up because he pushes you back down into the bed. His pace finally picks up again, which is good because you’re sprinting towards being too sore to actually enjoy it anymore. The pace gets much faster again, not nearly as rhythmic as before. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts. It’s the first time it actually feels like he’s losing control.

“Oh my god,” you cry out. “I’m gonna come again. Oh my god!”

“Me too,” he groans through a stuttered breath. “Fuck, where can I come?”

“I don’t care,” you cry out. You’re about to have your third orgasm. “On my back, on my ass, I don’t fucking care, just come with me.”

You press a finger to your clit to try and help you over that last bit to tumble over the edge so that Wonwoo can chase his own relief. The second your body starts shaking, you feel him pull out. He must pump his cock a few times because there’s a slight delay before you feel something hit your back. You feel a little proud with how much cum you feel on your skin, like maybe he was a little more affected by you than he wanted to let on.

As soon as Wonwoo lays down next to you on the bed, you also collapse onto your side. The bed is soft, but your knees are still a little sore from spending so much time on them. Wonwoo immediately pulls you into him so that he can kiss you breathless. His hand is behind your head, keeping you from pulling away. The chemistry between the two of you is intense. Not something you were prepared for. It’s clear that if one of you doesn’t stop, then you’ll be fucking him again. And your body needs a break.

“I should get cleaned up,” you say when you pull back, more than slightly breathless.

“Let me just get cleaned up a little and then you can take a shower,” he says.

He presses a kiss to your temple and then gets up off the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He’s all lean lines and unexpected muscles. Nobody should be allowed to look the way he does, to look so good that Greek gods would be jealous. And yet here he is.

A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom and arches an eyebrow at you. There’s a towel slung low around his hips in a way that should be a sin. “You’re going to make me think that you want more.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to stand,” you joke as an answer.

It surprises you a little when he comes over to the bed and helps you up. That is, until you see the way his eyes take you in. There’s nothing soft there, only predatory. Like you’re a meal he wants to return to. Your brain still feels a little slow to catch up, but registers something like he’s analyzing you. Still, he helps you get to the bathroom, points out the toiletries, and then disappears back into the room.

By the time you’re clean and wrapped in the softest bathrobe you’ve ever worn, Wonwoo is sitting at the table wearing shorts and his glasses with nothing else. He’s scrolling absently through his phone and picking at some snacks that hadn’t been there when you had gone to shower. You didn’t think you’d been in there long, so it’s surprising he was able to get something up so quickly. When he notices you’re out of the bathroom, he indicates the food.

“I ordered us some snacks and they were happy to get them up here quickly,” he says.

You take a seat across from him a little apprehensively. This is the part that you hadn’t really considered. How do you excuse yourself from the situation in a way that ensures you’ll see him again? It’s not that you want to have a repeat, though there’s part of your brain that is not opposed like you should be. It’s just…well with the room and the toiletries and the fast room service, you’re sure that this is the man you’re looking for. Which, admittedly, might make things a little complicated. But, you do have a job to do.

“I guess I am hungry,” you admit and reach for something.

“Glad you’re not going to make me eat alone,” he muses.

“You already paid for dinner and drinks, I wasn’t expecting more treats,” you admit.

“Seems fitting after the mindblowing sex,” he says and watches you, a clear glint to his eyes. “I can’t get over how insanely hot it was to watch you squirt for me.”

Your cheeks redden without your permission. He’s so free with admitting it even with the moment having passed. Maybe he’s more trouble than you realized.

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one to enjoy myself if my back is any indication,” you toss out.

“I really enjoyed the way you told me I could come on your back,” he shares.

“And my ass,” you remind him.

“I got that too,” he reminds you. “And what a nice ass it is.”

“Careful or I’ll ask you to blow my back out again,” you say, voice slightly betraying that you’re affected by his very presence.

“That makes me think you were going to head out and never see me again,” Wonwoo ventures.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say, trying to be coy.

Wonwoo fixes you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. It nearly makes you squirm under the intensity. Is he just like that? The kind of person that does everything with that burning look in his eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Agent,” he begins and your mouth runs dry. You do everything you can not to let him know that you’re a second away from losing it. “Do you fuck all your targets? Or am I special?”

The way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows he’s onto something. Knows exactly who you are. Or maybe who you work for, at least. He’s made you and you’re not entirely sure you’re safe anymore. You’re also not entirely sure what the best move is. Probably take half a second too long to decide if his face is any indication.

“Agent? Target?” you laugh out. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” he presses. “Really, we shouldn’t be lying to each other so early in the relationship.”

“I’m here doing…” you start.

“Research, yes. That’s what you said. And you almost had me when it took so long to run into you again. Your Spanish is flawless. It doesn’t sound like someone that learned at some secret agency. You’re much better at languages than any of the other agents that have come after me. And waiting so long to meet me again, genius. It really had me second guessing who you were,” he says. “But then, you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?”

“Going on a date with someone that’s clearly a little delusional?” you ventured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, confident. “I’ll tell you where you fucked up. It was dinner tonight. No, not something you said or did because you were shockingly smooth with it. It’s that you agreed to it at all. I suggested a place no researcher would ever go to. Because it used to be the site of a religious monument, but it fell into disrepair. A local crime family took it over. Only locals bother going there, but no researcher ever would.”

Your heart sinks. Through all your research and all your planning, you knew that you would never be able to get everything. There just wasn’t the time. So, you had to hope that the person you were chasing wouldn’t notice any small missteps. Or would write them off with your cover story. What you had not planned for was this. In all your careful consideration, you had not planned to go on a date with the art thief himself. He had you and he knew it. It’s hard to see the right path out of this.

It had been a gamble to get close to him the way you had. A gamble that you questioned taking and took anyway. A gamble you took without clearing it with Seungcheol. Usually, getting close to a target this way, you talk to him to make sure that he thinks it’s a good idea too. Make sure that this kind of move will fit the profile for the person that you’re chasing. This time, you’re flying blind. You had gotten a little ahead of yourself. A little sloppy. This isn’t the type of work you’re known for. It’s not the reason that you were sent down to Buenos Aires to chase him on a secret mission.

“One mistake,” you sigh with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, just the one,” he agrees.

“So why did you invite me back here?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m curious about you.”

“Curious? You risked inviting me back to your actual hotel room over curiosity?” you ask, looking around.

“Who’s to say this is actually my room?” he says with another casual shrug. You clock it on his face as soon as he says it.

“No, it is your actual room. The comfort, the speed of the room service, the way things are laid out. It’s not staged. This is just where you’re staying,” you observe. That makes him smile in a way you’re not expecting.

“Good eye,” he agrees. “Now for my question. Do you fuck all your targets?”

“No,” you say shortly.

“Why even agree to go on a date with me, then?” he presses.

You sigh and sit further back into your chair. Take a piece of fruit from the table to buy yourself some time. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a good decision, obviously. I wasn’t even sure you were my target. There was just…something about you.”

“So you’ve never fucked a target before? I’m special?” he asks with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” you respond. “I just don’t usually fuck a target without clearing it first.”

“Who knows you’re here with me?” he asks.

“Nobody,” you answer. It’s too honest.

You’re not sure if you should have admitted that and even less sure if he’ll believe you. It is the truth, though. Nobody in the world knows where you are right now. It’s kind of a crossroads for you because Wonwoo isn’t dangerous. He’s never been violent, as far as your information shows. Despite being physically separated from your bag, you’re not exactly unarmed. And yes, he does look like he’s in shape, but you’re still confident that you can take him if it comes to that. Once again, your mind is running through a million calculations a second as you realize you definitely should have talked to Seungcheol.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he admits.

“How’s that going?” you ask sarcastically.

“Not as well as it would normally,” he says. It’s something else that’s honest between the two of you. More honest than you’re expecting. “Most people are too easy to figure out. It’s boring. Nothing about you makes sense to me.”

“And what about me is so difficult for you to figure out?” you ask, still lacing your words with sarcasm.

“You know, despite me figuring out that you’re after me, you’re actually the best agent that they’ve ever sent. You fit into your role seamlessly. You’re just the right amount of charming. You blend into your surroundings because you don’t try to do anything to dull yourself. Against my better judgment, I am impressed. And yet, you still decided to come on the date. You’re clearly the best they have and you’re still here,” he says, gaze soft but analytical on you.

“I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” you say carefully.

“Why?” he asks.

“You disarm me,” you admit. “I know so much about you and yet, here I am. Unwilling to leave even though you know what I’m here to do.”

“Do you still want to turn me in?” he asks.

“Are you going to disappear into the wind the second I walk out that door?” you counter.

He regards you for a moment. A moment too long, really. It makes you squirm in your seat. This isn’t going at all how you would have imagined. “No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m waiting to see how this whole thing plays out. You haven’t said that you want to turn me in. I can see you’re conflicted about it. So, I’m going to see how this plays out,” he answers. He holds up a hand when you open your mouth. Seems to predict you’re going to ask why again. “Because…okay, look. I know this is really weird. I know you’re here to try and find me. But, you’re actually interesting and that sex was fucking good. So, I don’t know, call me cocky. I’m not ready to let you walk away just yet.”

“If I can walk at all,” you grumble.

“You were walking just fine from the bathroom. Maybe I need to really make sure you can’t walk,” he muses.

The eye contact is too much and you turn your head away. You’re positive he’s onto you, especially when you carefully cross your legs. It’s just that he’s right, isn’t he? You can sit here and pretend that you only slept with him to keep him close while you tried to figure him out. Can say that it was all just part of the job and you didn’t enjoy it. Can say that you wanted to take a different approach since nobody else has been able to catch him.

That’s also very clearly a lie.

Seungcheol likes to know what his agents are up to, particularly when it comes to agents like you that deal with secret missions. Since you started as friends before he had to retire to his desk, he’s also very protective of you. He hates it when you suggest using your charm on a target like this. So, no, this isn’t just another target. This is something else entirely. You have to admit that you actually enjoyed it. That you would like to do it again. That you actually don’t even want to leave his room because you’re not convinced you’ll ever see him again. Which is really stupid, isn’t it? You should not care if you never see him again. Unless it means that you failed your mission. That’s not why you’re worrying about never seeing him again, though.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something else, your phone chirps from your bag. It’s a sign. You know it is. The sound is tied to Seungcheol. Which means he’s looking for a check-in. Which means you’re late, something that never happens with you. You’re standing up to get your phone before even realizing it. Wonwoo’s eyes track your movements.

Cheol: hope you’re enjoying your trip! Send pictures when you can

It’s code. Sent through a normal message so that it doesn’t look suspicious. And so that it gives you the chance to ignore it if you’re not in a place where you can answer him. You don’t even hear Wonwoo approach as you’re mentally calculating how to respond to this.

“Is that code?” he asks and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his low voice by your ear. God, nobody should have a voice like his.

“It’s my handler, I guess you could say,” you answer.

“Are you going to call him?” he asks.

“He’ll worry if I don’t,” you say and realize it’s true.

Wonwoo steps around you to grab his own phone and then returns to his position at the table. “I’ll be quiet if you want to call.”

There’s something kind of hot about how he says it. Like he doesn’t actually want to let you leave. Or like it’s an order to stay. You’re not sure if you’re reading too much into it. When you look over at him, his eyes are on his phone, but his lips turn up in a smile. He knows your eyes are on him and he’s still playing a game. A game that you just might lose, for the first time in your life.

With a sigh, you shake your head and just fire off a text in response. You don’t have it in you to call Seungcheol and you also aren’t exactly sure what to say. He’s always been able to read your tone like it’s his own. After telling him you might have a lead, he’s going to know something is wrong. This is going to be a problem.

You: it’s been amazing, i’m loving each new thing i get to see in person. I’ll have some pictures to show you tomorrow!

It’s a signal that you’re not going to have anything new to share with him tonight and not to contact you again until you check in the next day. You’re not really sure if this is the right decision, but you need time to clear your head. This is the only way that you can see getting that. It’s too hard to think about making a decision when Wonwoo is still half naked and looking at you like you’re prey. At least you can assume that you could take him if you needed to. Thankfully, he’s not really looking at you like that kind of prey.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say.

“And what will you do tonight?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you.

“I’m all yours, at least for tonight,” you say.

You’re surprised the look he gives you doesn’t melt you into the floor. “I can work with that.”

The next day brings more confusion than the night before. At least you’re back in your own hotel room and out of the intoxicating orbit of Wonwoo. The downside is that you couldn’t leave his bed without agreeing to lunch plans with him. Both of you wanted to get breakfast together, but hadn’t been able to get out of bed in time for that. You turned down his offer to just buy you new clothes so you wouldn’t have to leave his sight. Thankfully, he does seem to understand that you need a minute to process everything in the last 24 hours. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

That’s not what you need to focus on right now, though. You don’t have any more messages from Seungcheol, which is what you expected. Still, you need to call him before he doesn’t something to check on you. Like sending Chan to your hotel with some made up story. You don’t want to put anyone in that position. You also don’t really know what you’re going to say. When you left Wonwoo’s hotel room, he made it clear: the choice was yours. He wants to see you again and he also knows that he’s asking a lot. Too much, probably. So, he’s giving you a choice. If you show up at lunch to meet him, then you’re at least willing to get to know him a little more before deciding anything. If you stand him up, then he’ll know you can’t agree to that. It’s a major gamble for him because you know what he looks like and his real name. You have more than you need to put an end to years of his hard work.

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this. Not really. Sure, you train for missions and you perfect your skills. But, emotions have never been part of it. It’s always been so easy to separate your humanity from your job. Kind of like you just switch of anything that makes you normal and go into mission-mode. You once compared it to being an actor because you’re just playing a part. None of it is real and none of it is really your decision. This is uncharted territory for you.

Once you catch your breath, you pull a device out of the secret pocket in your bag so that you can connect it to your phone. It’ll scramble the signals and make the line secure so that you can call Seungcheol. It’s a bit of normalcy that you’re craving in the madness around you.

“Finally, I’ve been worried,” Seungcheol answers.

“I answered you right away,” you point out.

“Yes, to say that you would not be calling me,” Seungcheol presses and you sigh.

“Because I don’t have anything new to report,” you say without even realizing when you made the decision. The lie flows so easily. “I’ve been cataloging everything on everyone I see at the museums and galleries. Cross checking the names coming into the country. Surveying anyone that sticks out as I check things out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol cuts in.

“I’m here to find him, though,” you point out. You’re not sure why you’re doing this.

“I know,” he says. “But, I’d rather you be safe.”

“I’m always safe,” you lie. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“I know, but I also know you’re competitive,” he says. “Remember, we’ve already sent no less than 6 teams to find him and they’ve all failed.”

“I don’t fail, though. That’s why you sent me,” you say. You’re not even sure why you’re arguing with him.

“Just be careful. What happened with that lead you thought you had?” he asks.

“A dead end,” you say with a practiced sigh. “Does the intelligence say he’s still in the city?”

“I can’t imagine he’d leave without taking anything,” Seungcheol says.

“Good point,” you say. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Do you want me to send back-up?” he asks.

“It’s your mission,” you say noncommittally. “If you think it’ll help and we can still fly under the radar, then by all means.”

“I was thinking of Chan since he’s still kind of in the area,” he says.

“Ah, yeah, I’m not sure,” you admit.

“You’re right, I know. I do want you to formally meet him soon, though. But, definitely not mid-mission,” he agrees. “Just be careful and keep me updated. If it goes on too long, we’ll just pull you. Maybe he got spooked.”

“Yeah, that works,” you agree.

“See you when you’re back,” he says.

“See you,” you answer and hang up.

It feels awful to lie to him, of all people. He’s one of the only people that you’ve ever trusted in your life. The only one that knows exactly who you are, knows all your demons, and still accepts you. He knows just how many people are six feet under because of you, knows the ways you’ve had to use your body, knows the lies you’ve told and the people you’ve hurt, both physically and emotionally. He knows all your scars and he accepts it. Because you know all his scars, too. It sucks to lie to him.

Sometimes they say that indecision is still a decision. That’s where you are now. You can say that you haven’t made a decision about what you’re going to do with Wonwoo. You can say that you’re waiting for more information. But, in a way, you’ve made at least one decision in his favor. You didn’t tell Seungcheol that your lead turned out to be the art thief himself. No. Instead, you’re showering and getting ready to meet him again, about to make yet another decision. Maybe you were always going to agree to lunch rather than stand him up. He’s got a lot to lose here too. It’s far more complicated than it should be.

Your head is a little in the clouds by the time you leave your room to head down to the lobby and out into the comfortable winter air. If you spend a little more time than strictly necessary making sure you look nice, well that’s your business. The only drawback is that you don’t have Wonwoo’s phone number, at your own insistence, and so he may think you decided to stand him up. That worry lasts as long as it takes for you to reach the lobby. That’s where you see him, sitting casually in an armchair with his eyes locked on you. There’s no reason for the way your heart skips over such a simple outfit. It’s just a t-shirt and a leather jacket. Why are you nearly losing your mind?

“What are you doing here?” you ask and he gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. It probably even puts your own smile to shame.

“I took a chance that you would decide in my favor,” he says and stands up.

“Confident,” you say, “but still, I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant since I hadn’t decided.”

“It’s a date. I’m picking you up,” he says and surprises you by placing a gentle kiss on your cheek .

“Isn’t that chivalrous of you,” you comment while trying to convince your heart to stop beating out of your chest.

“Shall we?” he asks and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

The chivalry doesn’t stop at picking you up at your hotel, unfortunately for you. He opens the door and then gently takes your hand. There’s a hand on your back when you step around him. He puts himself between you and any traffic. It’s the best anyone has ever treated you and you hate that you’re even noticing that. Now, you’re thinking that you should have stood him up for an entirely different reason.

Lunch feels like the most normal thing in the world. The real reason for being in this beautiful city doesn’t come up at all. Instead, you talk about life and interests. The type of music and food that you like. What you do in your free time. It’s exactly what you imagine first or second dates to be like. Not that you have much experience with actually dating.

It only gets deeper from there with Wonwoo telling you more about himself. Not about how he really makes money, but it certainly helps you understand how he got involved and how he stays under the radar. As it turns out, he comes from a lot of money. He doesn’t say it in a way that sounds like he’s bragging. It makes sense, though. Everything about him screams old money, which fits the profile you put together. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, the way he dresses. It doesn’t feel like someone that’s made his money from stealing art. You learn that he’s involved in a lot of charities, which surprises you a bit. You also learn that he sponsors students in a video game design program in his home country. There’s so much more to him than stealing art. In fact, that seems to be such a small part of who he is. It’s more than a little surprising, which is odd since it’s usually so hard to surprise you. It’s clear that he’s grown up around art. All this time and he’s just been hiding in plain sight.

The two of you sit at lunch for so long that the servers finally, very politely, indicate that it’s time to leave. It’s never been this easy to sit with someone in your entire life. It’s a level of comfort that you should absolutely not feel with someone like Wonwoo. But, you can’t help it. You can’t help the way you feel around him. Can’t really fight the feelings that keep threatening to bubble up.

The roads aren’t nearly as busy when you walk back towards your hotel. Even though it’s a tourist city, it still quiets down in the mid-afternoon when the local businesses close down. The tourists seem to use the time to also relax or take advantage of certain monuments being quieter. It lends itself to the comfortable silence that settles around you and Wonwoo on the walk.

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face Wonwoo and your breath catches a little. The sun in July isn’t as strong, but it still provides a backlight like he’s some sort of dark angel. Which sounds insane, even if your head. There have been so many beautiful people in your life, yet this is the one that has you forgetting how to put words together. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking when he steps into your space and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you so fiercely that you forget your name. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t look like much from the outside, but changes your entire world on the inside.

“Well how am I supposed to go back to my room and leave you now?” you ask against his lips when he pulls back. You can feel the smile on his own lips when he kisses you again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers.

“No,” you whisper back and kiss him again.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he says.

That makes you pull back sharply so that you can search his face. Does he realize how that sounds? It makes you wonder if he means more than just tonight. What is he trying to do to you? How many ways can one man make you reconsider everything you stand for? Nothing about his face looks smug or even insincere. In fact, he looks the way you imagine you feel. A little smitten and a lot unsure of what to do next.

“And what would I do instead?” you ask, though you have an idea where he’s going.

“Go pack a bag of some of your things and come stay with me for the next few days,” he requests. It’s just bordering on a demand, even though it’s clearly your call.

“Are you crazy? We barely know each other,” you protest without much heat.

“What better way to get to know each other?” he counters. He grabs your hips, pulling you close to his body so he can wrap his arms around you. “And think about it. I can see you’re still not sure what you want to do. If you’re with me, you’ll know where I am at all times. I can’t get into any trouble while you’re still deciding.”

“I suppose you do make a point,” you concede.

“I have never done anything this reckless in my life. So, I’m just asking for a chance,” he shares.

It’s a little insane for him to say this is the most reckless thing he’s done in his life. Surely, stealing art is crazier than this. Which would make you lean towards not believing him if it weren’t for the voice in the back of your head. That little voice that agrees with him. You’ve put your life in danger more times than you can count, but saying yes to the man in front of you feels like the most dangerous idea yet. Maybe it’s because you know it’s not your body you’re putting on the line, but your heart. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he means too. That he’s never taken the chance to chase someone like this. Or maybe you just want to believe that you might be special.

All you can do is nod at him and watch the smile that breaks across his face. It’s honest, unguarded. It’s real. There’s nothing behind it except genuine happiness that you agreed to spend the next few days with him. Before you can second guess your decision, you give him one more kiss and nearly run up to your room.

Being separated from him gives you the chance to actually catch your breath. To focus on what you need to bring with you. Since, apparently, you’re not going to reconsider if this is actually a good idea or not. You know you should. You know that this is another one of those moments that you chalk up to indecision when your actual decision could not be any louder. Again, you’re reminded of what you’re doing here. What you’re supposed to be doing here. This man is your enemy. He’s the person you’re supposed to be arresting and bringing into The Agency to face sentencing. You’re a good agent. You always put the mission ahead of yourself, your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your relationships. This isn’t a version of yourself that you recognize and it should stop you in your tracks.

Instead, you decide which dress to pack away and what pair of shoes looks best. For the first time in your life, you’re diving in first and asking questions later. Or never.

It shouldn’t be surprising that you end up naked in Wonwoo’s bed minutes after crossing the threshold to his hotel room. Not with how things have gone so far for the two of you. Yet, what is surprising is that the sex is even better than the night before. You’re catching your breath, tucked into Wonwoo’s side, body tacky with sweat but so impossibly happy. His hand that’s around you absently traces patterns into your skin. It’s honestly like you’ve known him for years. It’s insane to realize how comfortable you feel when that’s not something you ever experience. Not like this.

It’s also shocking to you how much this man wants to share with you. He carries on your chats from lunch as if he hadn’t just fucked you into his mattress yet again. Like this means more than some dirty sex holed up in a hotel in a foreign city. Makes you feel like you might actually mean something to him, which is a very dangerous feeling to have. Both of you know that this can’t mean more than what it is. At least, you think you know that and you think he might too. But, there’s a clear understanding that you won’t talk about it. Not now, at least.

Wonwoo decides that he wants to take you somewhere fancy for dinner. The type of place that you would never consider going to while on a mission. Though, you’re always prepared for anything. When you were packing up your things in your hotel room, you even grabbed a couple nicer dresses. All they needed was a quick steam, which the hotel staff had been only too happy to accommodate. Any protests about it being too much fell on deaf ears. He was set and the two of you were going to a famous restaurant. All you had to do was shower and get ready. Your dress would be ready by the time you needed it.

It’s clear you don’t really understand the limits to Wonwoo’s wealth, if there even are any, when you arrive at the restaurant. It’s the kind of place where you usually need reservations well in advance. It’s not the kind of place you can just show up at. Despite that, the host leads you back to a semi-private area where you’re tucked into a corner booth. It’s clearly one of the nicest tables in the place. You think you catch Wonwoo sliding the host something when he shakes their hand before he turns back to you. All thoughts go out the window when he slides in right next to you, not leaving any space.

Wonwoo’s Spanish really is very remedial and so you help him decipher the menu and order. It gives you pause when there aren’t prices anywhere on the menu, but he’s quick to wave off any concerns. Insists that it’s his treat. You don’t want to think that’s something you could get used to. It isn’t like you have any real trouble affording nice things. Your salary is high and you don’t have much to spend money on. This is a different level, though. It’s even different from the times you’ve gone on a mission and charmed your target. That always feels temporary. Like you’re something of an imposter. You don’t get those feelings here with Wonwoo.

Letting him pick out which outfit you wore may have been a mistake. You discover this once you get your drinks and the waiter leaves you alone. His hand rests possessively on your thigh, against the bare skin of your leg exposed by the slit in your dress. His body is angled towards you and he’s encouraging you to continue telling your story. But, he has to know he’s distracting, too, with the way his hand slides further up your thigh. What started as arguably innocent ventures quickly into dangerous territory.

“You were saying?” he prompts. His hand is inside the fabric of your dress now, keeping you from pressing your thighs together like you want to.

“I, uh…” you stutter as he digs his hand into the soft flesh there. “Wonwoo, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” he asks innocently.

“Getting caught,” you hiss and look down at your lap.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not worried,” he says and you glare at him, “because you’re going to be good for me and be quiet.”

“I don’t know…” you start and stop as soon as his pinky grazes along your entrance through your panties. “Fuck.”

“Doesn’t seem like you actually want me to stop,” he points out.

“I, fuck, you know I don’t but there are people,” you say softly.

“I paid good money for this table. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed,” he tells you.

“I…” you start. When he pulls his finger away, you nearly whine.

“I need to hear you say you want it,” he says.

“What?” you ask, a little louder than you intended.

“Use your words,” he directs and you glare.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“Fine, yes. I want your fingers inside me here in this damn restaurant,” you say.

He’s expecting this answer. It’s written all over his face. This time, he doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t waste any time because you may not have much of it. He simply pushes your panties to the side and slides his first finger into you. The angle doesn’t make it easy but his fingers are long and slender, like they were built for something like this. It’s hard to keep from making a sound, so you try to do anything to distract yourself from the way he pumps into you. Or the way he adds a second finger so quickly.

When you pick up your drink to take a sip from the straw, you watch his eyes on you. They seem to darken the second that you wrap your lips around the straw. His fingers pump into you even faster. And his lips are demanding on yours when you set the drink back down. You moan softly into his mouth without really considering if anyone is paying attention or if they can hear you. His tongue tangles with yours frantically while he tries to get you off right in that booth.

This is new for you. You definitely didn’t think you would get so turned on by the fact that anyone could walk back over to see what you were doing. Anyone could hear the noises you’re making. Anyone could figure it out. When he feels that your pussy clenching around his fingers, he pulls away from the kiss. Leans his forehead against yours so that he can whisper filthy things in the space between you. Tells you how good you feel and how he loves watching you when you’re about to come. Moans about how tight you are. How pliant you are for him. Reminds you to be quiet. Tells you he can’t wait to taste you on his fingers. That’s what finally pushes you over the edge.

Your fingers grip the edge of the booth underneath you as you come hard and fast. He lazily guides you through it and then follows through by bringing his fingers to his lips. It’s so hot that you consider asking if you can just leave and go back to the room to be fucked properly. But, then your stomach rumbles and you think better of it. It’s only another few minutes before the first course arrives with a slightly knowing look from the waiter. After that first course, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up, at least a little. You deem your panties ruined and just remove them, tucking them away into your bag. You’ll have to be a little more careful the rest of the night.

This dinner is somehow even better than the first and it has nothing to do with the place being expensive, though the food is definitely amazing. You also don’t think it really has anything to do with the way Wonwoo fingered you under the table. That’s definitely a first for you. Exhibitionism hasn’t been your thing before, but maybe he’s got you learning new things about yourself. It had only taken him a minute to realize that you weren’t wearing underwear anymore. It definitely took him another minute to regain his composure.

The thing that actually makes this dinner better than the first is the man across from you. With his walls down, the entire night just feels that much more. It’s one of the only times you’ve ever felt your own guard come down. It’s not smart and you don’t care. You think you probably look a little punch drunk to anyone that can see your table. Then, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes again and think he probably looks the same. You never really have the chance to enjoy dates, but even if you did, this would still probably top them all. It’s all the little things. The way Wonwoo carefully brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The way he offers you a bite off his own plate when you say it looks good. The way he brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses feather light kisses to them.

“Are you going to insist on ordering dessert here too?” you ask after the main course.

“I was thinking we might have dessert back in our room,” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Our room?” you question.

“Don’t test me,” he cautions.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say and lean into him to press a slow kiss to his cheek. Your hand brushes over his lap as a way to get closer.

“Is this you not testing me?” he asks when your hand brushes across his lap again.

“What? You can make me come on your fingers but I can’t tease you a little?” you ask innocently.

Wonwoo grabs your hand and anchors it on your own thigh. “We’re getting out of here and then you can show your appreciation however you want. We don’t need to give them more of a show.”

It seems like it takes an eternity to pay the bill (which Wonwoo doesn’t let you see) and get a cab back to the hotel. The promise of something else simmers between you the entire time. Wonwoo keeps a hand on you the entire time. A hand on your lower back out of the restaurant, fingers intertwined with yours in the cab, an arm around you walking into the hotel. When you get into the elevator, he pulls you back against his chest as more people join. He masks it as affection and presses a kiss to your cheek, but you feel the desire beneath it.

The moment you cross into the room, you slip out of your shoes and turn around to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. The tension between the two of you is thick and it’s hard to remind yourself to come up for a breath. He overwhelms every one of your senses. There’s nothing but him in every corner of your brain when he kisses you like that.

It’s almost embarrassing when he breaks the kiss and you chase his lips. “How about dessert?”

“I thought that was just your way of saying…” you start and he directs your attention to the table. There’s an assortment of fruit, whipped cream, and melted chocolate there.

You’re a little hesitant when he starts to walk to the table. It just feels incredibly intimate, which is true for a lot of what's happened with Wonwoo. But, this still feels different. It feels like more, once again. Wonwoo realizes that you’re not behind him and turns back to you. He closes the space between you yet again and places a hand on your cheek, impossibly soft.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“I’ve never done…this,” you say softly into the quiet between you and him.

“Pretty sure we’ve already fucked several times,” Wonwoo says to lighten the mood.

“No, I mean, this…I don’t know. The desserts and the whipped cream and chocolate. It just feels, I don’t know, intimate,” you admit.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you.

It’s absolutely insane that you’re hesitating. It doesn’t have to be some super intimate thing. It’s not like Wonwoo hasn’t already seen every inch of you and gotten to know your body better than anyone should in that period of time. But, this is far beyond the point where you can convince yourself any part of this is for the mission anymore. This isn’t just to keep him close. This is no longer indecision, as much as you want to pretend that it is.

“Is this your go-to move, then? Have a bunch of sweets delivered to the hotel room and seduce people with being all gentle?” you ask.

“I’ve definitely never done this before,” he says and it’s too honest.

Instead of answering him you just kiss him because it’s the only answer you can think of. Somehow, knowing that this is different for him too makes it feel less overwhelming for you. You drag him back towards the table until you’re leaning against it. Your back arches into him as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around you to keep you tight against his body. He pulls away again and you’re ready for it this time.

Wonwoo reaches an arm behind you and dips a strawberry in some of the chocolate. He brings it to your lips and watches intently as you get your mouth around it. The first bite sends a little bit of juice and chocolate over your lips. Just as you’re about to wipe it away, Wonwoo pulls the remainder of the strawberry back and kisses it away. It’s like that one action unlocks any hang ups you have. You twist around to scoop up some whipped cream with your finger. Your eyes lock on Wonwoo as you slowly lick it off. With it still in your mouth, you kiss him hard, enjoying the way your tongues dance and the tastes.

The two of you take turns dipping fruit and feeding it to each other. The kisses become more and more desperate in between feeding each other. It’s a little messy, though, so you unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt and slide it off his arms. He undoes your dress to slide it off your body, removing your bra along the way. You rid him of his pants and briefs as well so that you’re not the only one standing there naked.

When you reach back to get more fruit, Wonwoo grabs your hand to stop you. There’s a question in your eyes that he leaves unanswered as he moves things out of the way behind you. Then, he’s sitting you on the edge of the table and reaching for the whipped cream, which also answers your question. He puts some of the topping on your breast and sucks into your skin to lick it off you. Your legs part on their own as you lean back on the table to encourage him to get closer. He swirls his tongue around your nipple before softly nipping at your skin. Without warning, he bites into the flesh of your breast and laves over the spot to soothe you.

Food should not be this sexy. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wonwoo tempting you, but you’ve never been this turned on. His tongue is everywhere across your breasts and your stomach. Covering you in kisses while also licking the whipped cream or chocolate off of you. Your nails scratch down his back each time he nips into your skin. Somehow the sensations are everywhere all at once. You wrap your legs around his waist to anchor him closer to you.

“I need you inside me,” you whine out with Wonwoo kissing along your neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks into your skin.

“Feel for yourself,” you encourage.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck and looks at you with lust. He presses his fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without even thinking about it. They’re sweet as you swirl your tongue around them. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

As if it’s confirmation, he ruts against you, seemingly hard just from all the making out and the food. You pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them to your already dripping pussy. He’s not the only one that’s gotten insanely turned on. As soon as you guide his fingers through your folds he groans again.

Neither one of you is in the mood to wait and he doesn’t waste any time angling his hand so he can pump his fingers inside you. Just presses two fingers right in and adds a third to try and open you up. It makes you scream out, praising his fingers with how quickly they work you over. He removes his hand entirely too quickly and you’re whining at the loss. Wonwoo runs a hand along his cock, pumping a couple times and catching some of the precum to spread it along his length. It’s not enough, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please, Wonwoo, I need you,” you beg.

“Feeling a little desperate, princess?” he teases, that cocky smirk back on him.

“Just fuck me already,” you whine.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, just lines himself up and presses his tip into you. It stretches you out and you’re a little surprised that he goes so slowly. Then, you realize that it feels like more when he’s inching into you like this. His eyes watch you for any signs of discomfort. He leans forward and catches your lips in the neediest kiss of the night when he bottoms out in you. You lean back onto your elbows, bringing him along with you. The kisses get sloppier as he starts to thrust into you.

He pulls away from you to reposition and presses your leg up so that he can get deeper. You let your leg fall over his arm so that you don’t have to hold it up. The moans between the two of you are loud enough to drown out the sound of skin on skin as he fucks into you hard. You can’t help it, though, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Look at me,” he directs roughly.

You moan in response but tilt your head back towards him. It feels like a chore and that’s when it occurs to you. Taking hold of his free hand, you move it to your throat. For a second, his eyes go wide and his pace slows. He’s searching your face for a clue before he grabs your throat a little more forcefully.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck,” you groan out. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” he utters, flexing his fingers on your throat.

Somehow, Wonwoo seems to know the perfect amount of pressure. It’s just tight enough that it makes it a little harder to breathe, but not so much that it’s actually choking you. He seems more comfortable than when he did it the first time. It also makes it easier to keep your eyes on him the way he wants. Everything feels heightened and it’s entirely too soon that you’re rushing to your high. You clench your walls around Wonwoo and he fucks you harder, groaning at the increased tightness.

“Gonna come all over my dick again?” he asks and you moan.

You can’t really say anything and you don’t want to. This is all you need. Your hand winds down your body and you look at Wonwoo with a question in your eyes.

“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself,” he directs you.

Asking for permission to do anything is unlike you, but there’s something about wanting to please this man that drives you to all sorts of new things. You rub your clit in time with his thrusts and it seems like only moments pass before you’re tipping over that edge.

Heavy breaths eventually subside to find Wonwoo slowly, almost lazily, fucking into you. His hands are now both on your hips as he waits for you to come down. You sit up with him still inside you and kiss him, slow and full of all sorts of unspoken things.

“You really are fucking amazing,” you say, voice a little hoarse. “You can move faster.”

“I was thinking we might need to get into the shower,” he says with a smirk, pressing a finger to your skin. You’re about to object when you watch him pull it away and it sticks.

“Maybe I can take care of you in there, then,” you say and kiss him softly.

His eyes seem to light up a little at that. He slides out of you gently and walks slowly into the bathroom. You meant what you said. Shower sex is definitely not your thing because it’s never as sexy as people make it out to be. It can be slippery and there aren’t really any good positions. That doesn’t mean you can’t help him out a little.

Wonwoo has other ideas first, it seems. Once the water is warm enough, both of you get in and he lathers up a loofah to gently wash all the stickiness from your body. It’s gentle in a way you’re not expecting and impossibly thoughtful. You relax against his back with his arms around you while he makes sure all the remnants are gone.

When you’re clean, you turn around to face him and kiss him hard. The water falling on your back creates the perfect sensation with the heat between the two of you. He gathers you against his body, hands sliding down to grip your ass. It’s all you can do not to melt right on the spot. You think that you could probably kiss this man for the rest of your life and never get bored. Or never fully prepare yourself for the way it makes you feel.

You drop to your knees and take his cock in your hand. He leans back against the wall of the shower as he looks down on you. It’s crazy to you how turned on this man gets (or stays) just from kissing or skin contact. No matter what, his body always seems to be ready for you. You run your tongue along his length and swirl your tongue around the tip. You’re impatient and you know he’s been waiting, so you don’t waste any time before you suck him into your mouth. You relax your throat and swallow as much of his cock as you’re able to, alternating between bobbing and hollowing out your cheeks.

“You look so good looking up at me like that,” he groans.

You hum around his dick and Wonwoo grabs the back of your head to anchor you there. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before he releases you and you can get a breath. Even in this position, you can tell that you actually have control over this man. It’s a great feeling since he’s been in control every other time. His hips buck when you suck him back into you. It’s definitely a powerful feeling. The groans also tell you what you already know, you’re good at this. He’s putty in your hands.

With a few more bobs, he’s coming down your throat and then slumping back against the shower wall. It doesn’t stop him from helping you up off your knees. You pepper light kisses along his collarbones before he surprises you and pulls you into another kiss. It’s never been your experience that a man wants to kiss you like that, but he doesn’t shy away.

“We better get out of this shower before we run through all the hot water,” he says between kisses.

“You’re right,” you say with a sigh.

The two of you step out of the shower and Wonwoo is quick to wrap you up in a towel. It takes everything in you to tell your heart to calm down. You know Wonwoo feels all the same things you do. Even if he's not free with vocalizing his emotions, his actions tell you exactly what he’s thinking. If you know where to look, that is. You’re realizing that you definitely know where to work.

Twenty minutes later, your skin care routine is done and you’re curled up in bed in one of Wonwoo’s oversized t-shirts. You know your alarm is going to be too early tomorrow since you need to check in with Seungcheol, but all you want to do tonight is curl up and talk more with this incredibly interesting man.

Something seems to shift now that you’re holed up in Wonwoo’s hotel room with him for the next however many days. Before, he seemed hesitant to talk about the real reason you two crossed paths. You’re not sure what causes the change or why he trusts that you’re not going to just turn around and burn him. Maybe it’s just that you haven’t done it yet.

“What made you want to start stealing art?” you ask while the two of you are sitting outside on the balcony. This room really is too nice. It almost makes it hard to leave and explore.

“I don’t know if it was that I wanted to steal art,” he chuckles.

“Okay, how did you start, then?” you ask with an affectionate eye roll.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” he says with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I guess, I don’t know, I grew up in this house where nobody ever seemed to care what I was doing. I stole the first piece from my parents and sold it off to someone I’d met at this underground club. I figured my parents would catch me and then at least I’d have their attention for a minute.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t catch you,” you comment.

“They didn’t even notice it was gone,” he says with a chuckle. “How old were you?” you ask.

“16,” he answers immediately.

“So you’ve been doing this…?” you start, doing the math in your head.

“12 years, yeah,” he says. “It took awhile to get to the point I’m at now. I think for a while I was figuring that my parents would somehow catch on and give a shit about my life. By the time I was 19, I was really good at it and I’d made a lot of contacts. I still moved in all those circles so I never looked out of place at a gallery or a museum. Nobody looked twice at me.”

“Did it ever get lonely?” you ask and Wonwoo regards you for a moment. “I just mean that you were still part of all these circles. You still went to all these parties and it seems like none of them knew you at all. You were hiding in plain sight because nobody knew you well enough to see it.”

“I had the networks of people that I sold to or accepted jobs from,” he says.

“But everything I’ve ever seen says that you rarely met with those people in person. It was always online contact and leaving pieces somewhere after the money had been wired,” you share.

“I guess your agency got a few things right,” he mumbles.

“It sounds loney,” you say sympathetically.

“I wish you were a little less observant,” he says like he’s trying for a joking tone.

It’s immediately obvious that he’s a little tired and definitely lonely. You can’t really imagine that type of life. Sure, you’ve been working on your own or with a single partner for your entire adult life. But, you’ve still been part of an organization. There are people that know you at your core. There are people that you can turn to when everything in life feels like it sucks. No matter how bad things get, you know there are people out there who can support you.

Almost involuntarily, a series of images pop into your head. Wonwoo in a suit at a charity gala, the type of person that everyone wants to approach. You can imagine people whispering behind their hands about going to speak to him or ask him to dance. Maybe trying to approach him at the bar. Then you see him just as clearly at home afterwards, alone and sitting on his couch with a drink in hand. You see him perusing a museum to get the lay of the land so that he can steal it later. Once again, alone. You see how he probably sits at home communicating with all his potential buyers.

Wonwoo reads the look on your face and assures you that it’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining things. Yes, he admits that he’s lonely sometimes and that he’s alone more than he’s with other people. It’s hard for him to let anyone in. He doesn’t want to have to account for his time or trust that they won’t blow his cover. There’s nobody in his life that he can be totally himself with, at least not until meeting you. But, he insists that it hasn’t been so bad. Mostly, he prefers to be on his own anyway. He likes the quiet and the solitude. Likes to be able to enjoy his down time however he likes. He gets enough socialization when he goes to events as he’s expected to.

Which brings up a question. After over a decade of doing everything solo, why has he trusted you with all of this now? His answer comes more immediately than you would expect, yet it makes sense. You have something to lose here, too. Possibly even more than he does. After all, there have been a lot of teams that have been close to unraveling his mysterious identity. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be tracking him down. Not spending time locked away in his hotel room with him. That brings you up a little short because he’s right and you’re not planning on going anywhere.

He admits that you intrigue him. All his life, Wonwoo has appreciated a good puzzle or a good challenge. You present both to him, though it hasn’t been as much of a challenge to get you to give him a chance as he expected. It is a challenge to try and unravel you. To try and figure out what made you say yes to the date and what makes you stay now. You also meet him on a level that nobody ever has before. You nearly blush at the way he describes your intelligence and how he feels more turned on by your brain than anyone before. Normally something like that would make you cringe. But, somehow Wonwoo makes it sound both sexy and endearing. You’re just as challenged by him, too, so maybe you get it.

It also brings up some very conflicting feelings in you because it’s a reminder that you have a life entirely separate from him. You have a life that doesn’t allow you to account for this time. At some point, you have to make a final choice. It’s way too late to just turn Wonwoo in without any sort of repercussion. It’s too late to act like this is all just in the name of bringing down one of the most difficult targets you’ve had to track. In the name of getting to know Wonwoo better, you’ve also shared a lot about yourself. A lot that someone like Seungcheol would be able to clock immediately as being true. Every moment you stay with Wonwoo makes your future more complicated. Things are already too hazy.

“Okay enough heavy stuff,” you declare and stand. “Let’s go do something.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“We’re in a beautiful city, let’s go see some of it,” you suggest.

Wonwoo wants to take a minute to actually plan something, but you veto that. He’s definitely not the spontaneous type, which you figured out before you were even sure who he was. It makes more sense now, knowing who he is. So it feels like more of a win that he relents and agrees to just go with the flow. It’s not as if you’ll be flying totally blind anyway. You did a lot of research before coming down for the mission and you know a lot of the places to see, both tourist places and some that are off the beaten path.

Once you’re outside of the hotel room, things feel different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Everything in the hotel room feels real in the sense of getting to know each other. The conversations can be heavy and there’s that constant need to rip each other’s clothes off. Being outside exploring a foreign city feels real in an entirely different way. None of the conversations are heavy since you’re just appreciating the sights. But, you and Wonwoo trade off in taking pictures of each other (or even snap some together) and it feels like a glimpse at another life. It isn’t a fantasy world because it does feel real, but it doesn’t feel like an actual reality either. It almost feels like a mission you’re on where you and him would pretend to be a couple. You have to remind yourself this is actually a mission and you’re running around with your target because Wonwoo isn’t your partner.

When you’re in Plaza de Mayo, you take a step back to allow Wonwoo to purchase something to eat. It’s too cute to watch him stumble through his Spanish, constantly looking over at you as if asking for help. All you can do is smile as he mixes up hombre and hambre. The older woman putting the food together only smiles softly. There’s something incredibly cute about watching this stoic man get flushed over ordering in another language.

The next few days follow mostly the same pattern. You wake up earlier than Wonwoo so that you can pretend to work on the mission and actually check in with Seungcheol. Wonwoo pretends that he’s still asleep sometimes. Other times, he gets up and works on his own things. It’s cute that he’ll do anything to make it seem like you have privacy. Breakfast in the room always comes next because it’s an easy way to get ready for the day.

The days themselves are all a little bit different. You see the Piramide de Mayo, the Floralis Generica, the monuments to Juana Azurduy and General Jose de San Martin, Teatro Colon, the planetarium and several other interesting sights. The planetarium is a personal favorite of yours because it’s just kind of weird in an affectionate way. It’s hard to truly pick a favorite though because each new stop teaches you more about the local culture. It’s the kind of place that just makes you want to fall in love with it. There’s so much beauty and so much to appreciate. Each new stop also seems to involve learning something new about Wonwoo and somehow him trying his hand at Spanish again, only to fail. You’re wondering if he does it just to entertain you.

While you’re seeing all the tourist spots, you take time to see the things the locals recommend as well. Sometimes that’s hole-in-the-wall food places or stands that someone mentions. Other times it’s a park that’s too out of the way for tourists. Even other times still, it’s a hidden access point to the beach. Thankfully, it’s still cool out and getting Wonwoo to agree to the beach isn’t difficult. You idly wonder what it would be like to try and get him to visit the beach in January when it’s the dead of summer.

You want to try as many local dishes as you can while you’re there, too. Given his way, Wonwoo would probably eat in the hotel room just as much as out of it, but you don’t know when you’re going to get this chance again. So, even though he’s worn out from spending so much time around people, he lets you drag him out again every night. He even seems to enjoy himself.

At the start of whatever this is, it was always you asking Wonwoo all the questions and trying to volunteer as little about yourself as possible. You’re still an agent and you’re still supposed to be after him. The least you can do, while you’re totally ignoring your mission, is try to better understand Wonwoo and his motivations. Even if you don’t end up turning him in, it's an invaluable experience to get to look into the mind of a criminal. When will you get another chance like this? When will you be this close to someone to ask personal questions? No part of you even considers that he’s lying to you. You’re positive that he answers everything truthfully.

Somewhere along the line, it shifts. Maybe because you know everything you want to know about the man across from you. Or maybe because you genuinely feel comfortable about him. Either way, he’s the one that’s asking you questions now. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t want to know anything about your work. He doesn’t seem to care about any of that. There’s a nagging thought that thinks he might just be trying to make you comfortable. You try to quickly brush it away, though, and just answer any of the personal questions he asks. Wonwoo wants to know the simple things like where you grew up, what your family was like, and what you wanted to do when you were younger. The things that allow him to really know you. It’s terrifying.

By the time you get back to the hotel that night, you’re exhausted. It feels like it’s been a never ending span of days in the best way. You collapse on the bed without changing. All you manage to do is take off your shoes. Wonwoo leans over you and kisses you, softly at first. But, like every other kiss with him, it leaves you gasping for air after a minute.

It’s amazing how he seems to take your breath away and even more amazing how he always seems like he’s ready to tear your clothes off. You’ve never had someone like him in your life. But, that also brings you back to reality. Wonwoo asked you to give him a few days staying in his hotel room. It’s definitely been longer than that without either of you seeming to notice. There’s a level of comfort that neither of you talk about given that this all has an expiration date. And that expiration date is rapidly approaching.

Staying with Wonwoo turns out to be longer than either of you planned and neither of you has a complaint about it. You’ve been checking in with Seungcheol every morning and Wonwoo pretends not to listen. It’s been like living in a little bubble where reality isn’t a concern.

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? This isn’t real life, not for you. This isn’t something that lasts long term or that you can even sustain. The reality is still there. Wonwoo is one of the most infamous art thieves to ever live and you work for a secret agency tasked with bringing criminals like him to justice. You’re not exactly sure what the last however many days have been. All you know is this is just a break from reality. A brief glimpse into an alternate life that can never be. It’s been amazing and something you won’t ever forget. You’re hoping that you’re both on the same page about that, at least.

“I should probably go back to my hotel today,” you say.

Wonwoo looks up from across the room where he’s reading while you pretend to work on your case. It helps to at least log in to the system. “To get more stuff?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” you point out.

“No, I expect at some point we’ll leave and head to the next place,” he agrees with a shrug.

“We?” you ask, eyebrows flying up.

“Yes, we,” he says like suddenly you’re slow on the uptake. “I’ve got a few places in mind that I’d love to take you, but it’s really up to you.”

“Wonwoo,” you start and your heart sinks.

You are definitely not on the same page. Probably not even in the same book, if you’re honest. Everything over the past days with him has been amazing. The perfect little escape from your reality. But, that’s all it’s been: an escape. Or maybe that’s all you’ve let yourself think it was. Anything else seems like entirely too much. His face drops as he watches you.

“You’re not coming with me,” he realizes.

“I didn’t even know you would want me to!” you state, too loud for the space.

“How could you not? I’ve been telling you all the places that I wanted you to see,” he says and that hits you harder than a physical blow. He’s been giving you all the signs that this isn’t just a bubble.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” you point out.

“Clearly,” he says, voice thick with disappointment.

“Wonwoo, come on. It’s not like I can just, what? Run away?” you say.

“Oh, no, there’s a whole life waiting for you back at your precious agency,” he says with derision.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” you plead.

“And I’ve shown you that there’s more to life than whatever this is for you,” he counters.

“I can’t just leave them,” you say with a shake of your head.

That seems to make Wonwoo angrier than you expect. “No, of course not. How silly of me. You have to get back to your handler that so clearly loves you.”

“Seungcheol does not love me. We’re friends, sure, but that’s it,” you disagree.

“Let’s pretend that’s true and it’s normal for a handler to speak to you the way he does. Or that it’s normal for him to worry so much about your safety. Who are you going back to apart from him? Who’s waiting for you?” Wonwoo asks.

The questions wash over you like acid rain. Painful and harsh and unrelenting. The worst part is that he’s right. You have wondered if there are some feelings there from Seungcheol. You also don’t have anyone waiting for you. It’s really a half-life, if you’re being honest. Less than a half-life, probably. The past few days with Wonwoo are the most alive you’ve felt since you were a child, before joining the agency.

“I can’t just…this is my job, Wonwoo. And you’re an art thief. A very famous one and…” you start.

“Have I stolen anything here?” he asks and that brings you up short.

“Well, no, of course not. You’ve been with me,” you say simply.

“And I will leave this city without stealing. I will switch careers entirely if it’s that important, though it doesn’t seem like it is since you haven’t turned me in,” he says and it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve been all over the globe trying to feel something. Trying for anything. I started stealing because I could. I wanted to get the attention my parents never gave me. I kept going because I was looking for a challenge, which it is, at least sometimes. I was looking for someone, I think. Then, I find you and you’re everything I didn’t know to ask for. But, you’re telling me some job where you can’t even have a life is more important than this? That my job, which I’m completely willing to give up, is too much of a barrier?”

“I have a life,” you scoff.

“Really?” Wonwoo challenges and folds his arms. “When was the last time you went on a real date? Not with a target, but a real date just with someone you wanted to know? When’s the last time you let yourself just breathe and explore a city? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

“Plenty of people are married to their jobs,” you begin.

“I thought you were brave, you know,” Wonwoo muses. “I thought you were someone who would realize how rare this is. It’s not like everyone is lucky enough to meet a person that completes them like this. I guess I was wrong. I guess all I was really good for was fucking you and that’s all it was.”

“Of course that’s not all it was,” you disagree. There are tears threatening to spill over. This isn’t at all how you imagined it going. You weren’t prepared for him to try to fight for you. “The last few days with you have been everything I never thought I’d experience. But, it hasn’t been real, Wonwoo. It can’t be real. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Why can’t it?” he fires at you.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” you scream, tears finally streaming down your face. “Because you don’t know my scars. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know the mistakes I’ve made. You don’t know that I have demons that are constantly chasing me.”

“I’m a fucking criminal,” he points out. “Who am I to judge?”

“Exactly,” you agree but rush to finish your thought before Wonwoo can interject. “You don’t…question the decisions you’ve made. You stand on everything you’ve done. But, you also do so much good with charities and helping students and just giving back. Plus, I’ve looked at your crimes. You only ever stole from the rich to sell to other rich people.”

“Yet you still were sent to chase me,” he points out.

“Yeah, who do you think pays our salaries?” you ask flatly. “My point is that…I don’t know. I’m standing here across from you and I feel like I’m the infinitely worse person in this situation.”

“It really can’t be that bad,” he reasons.

“I’ve taken lives, Wonwoo. More than I can count. And without even questioning if our reasoning was solid for taking them out. I’ve used my body in ways that I may never recover from, thinking it was my choice at the time. I’ve done what I was told and I’ve been good at it. Too good, maybe,” you say. You’re talking to yourself more than him at this point. “I’m the one they send when they don’t want a record. I’m the one they send when nobody else can do it. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life training and doing what I was told. It’s given me scars that you can’t see and won’t ever heal. All I know is this. They’re not just going to let me go. And even if they did, you don’t deserve all the baggage that I come with. You’re not a bad guy.”

“And you think you are? A bad guy?” he asks.

“I know I am,” you say.

“That’s all you are if that’s all you see, but I see so much more,” he argues.

“I still can’t just ask them to walk away,” you press.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask,” he says. “You deserve a chance to start fresh. To see what you can be without the weight of the world hanging over your head.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than what I have now,” you disagree.

“What about love? Do you deserve that?” he asks, changing directions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“And me? Do I deserve love?” he asks.

“Yes, without question,” you answer immediately.

“So give me the chance to experience love,” he begs. “I never thought I’d love anyone and I’ve never taken this kind of chance on anyone. But, I’m asking you for a chance. Just one more.��

There’s so much tension in the air between you. So many things still left unsaid and so much emotion. The air between you and him seems to crackle. A storm brews behind his eyes as he waits for you to answer him. It seems insane to think that he could feel that for you after such a short time. But, really, what do you know? You have unquestionably never been in love before, not really. There’s never been the time or space for it in your line of work. Relationships never seem to get deeper because you’re always keeping secrets. Can’t ever tell them what you really do for work. And then there’s Wonwoo. He knows so much about you already and even though it’s barely scratched the surface, it’s still more honest than you’ve ever been. He doesn’t want to run away and that scares you more than any mission you’ve ever had.

It’s just…it’s too much to decide now. You spend your whole life having to make split second decisions, yet can’t about this. Don’t have the data that you have on missions. Don’t know the pros and cons. It’s uncharted territory. It’s scary in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve stared down the barrel of too many guns and this still feels infinitely more terrifying. Maybe he can love you after such a short amount of time because he seems to realize what you’re going to say before you say it.

“Don’t,” he says softly when you open your mouth. “I’m going to leave the day after tomorrow. I’m going to set the flight to leave at 1 in the afternoon. That gives you time to change your mind.”

“And if I don’t reach you before then?” you ask softly.

“Don’t ever expect to find me again,” he says with a finality that surprises you. When you meet his gaze, it’s harder than you’re expecting. “I really care about you and I’d love you to come with me. But I know how stubborn you are. It’s part of why I love you so much. So I’m leaving my heart open until the day after tomorrow. Then it’s over.”

“You’re an amazing person, Wonwoo,” you say and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve challenged a lot of my ideas about right and wrong. I’ll never forget that.”

“I’m not accepting this as goodbye. I’ll still hope to see you before I leave,” he says and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead.

Your throat is too tight to say anything in response to that. All you can do is gather up your things and head out of the hotel room. Everything in your body feels tired from the unexpected heaviness of the conversation. It hurts to see Wonwoo looking so hurt. As crazy as it sounds, you do mean that he deserves the absolute best. You also meant it that made you rethink a lot of your preconceived notions. You actually questioned things for the first time in your adult life. Despite all of that, you still walk right out of the hotel room.

You spend nearly every minute after walking out of Wonwoo’s hotel room considering his offer. Go as far as scheduling your flight out of Buenos Aires for the same time as his. Genuinely, you’re not sure what you want to do. At least Seungcheol understood failing the mission. Somehow, he still sees it as a win that nothing was stolen from anywhere in the city while you were there. He assumes that your presence somehow spooked the notorious art thief. Thankfully he doesn’t realize just how right he is.

The biggest surprise is that Chan, the slightly overeager agent from the flight down, will be meeting you when you get on the plane. He’s only wrapping up a second mission that popped up in the area. The Agency is sending him along so that you can debrief about your actual mission and start looping him in going forward. Apparently, as great as you are and as (almost) perfect as your record is, the agency still wants to have someone for you to work with when you need them. Since that can’t be Seungcheol, he’s recommending a promising younger agent. This apparently also includes you being the one to tell him all of this yourself.

The airport is busy when you get there, an unsurprising side effect of planning flights during the afternoon. There’s also the fact that private planes have to leave from the international airport, which is always somewhat packed. Getting through customs and security is surprisingly smooth and soon you’re going to have to face your literal crossroads.

In one direction is the familiar. Nothing about working for The Agency is easy. There’s a sense of routine to it, though. A sense of generally knowing what your days or weeks or even months will look like. You know how to make coffee in the shitty break room when you’re actually on site (a rarity). You know how to play nice with the other agents. You know how all the tech works. And you’re good at the missions themselves. That’s just to say you don’t have to learn anything new. You’re lucky enough to have a semi-boss that you get along with. There’s a sense of routine to everything from mission briefings to flights to the missions themselves. There’s comfort in knowing you don’t really have to make the decisions. Sure, you have to figure out which course to take on the ground with a mission. But, that usually only means picking option A or B. All of the possible courses of action come in the briefing. You just have to evaluate the factors and figure out which pre-determined option fits best. It’s easy. As fucked up as it might be to admit, you like doing something that you know you’re good at. It’s nice to get praised for constantly succeeding. It’s the easy decision.

And in the other direction…well, it’s the unknown. Being with Wonwoo has been nothing short of the best feeling of your life. The most alive you’ve ever felt. It’s kind of crazy but part of you thinks you may love him. Can see how the whole future plays out, even if it’s not crystal clear. The two of you could start over somewhere new where he doesn’t have to steal art and you don’t have to chase criminals with questionable methods. Both of you have the funds (even if he’s better set up) to start over. Both of you clearly have the skills to disappear into the wind, too. It’s not like your legal name exists anywhere anymore. Very few people even know it, not that you would go back to it.

It’s easy to get lost in the daydream. As much as you love the sun of Buenos Aires, you can’t imagine Wonwoo in a place like that during the actual summer. Everything about him makes you think of somewhere cooler, somewhere that you’re not constantly sweating. That would let you take breaks to sunnier weather. Places where you could soak up the sun while he took refuge under an umbrella, watching you with all the affection in the world. Actually, you can picture visiting a lot of places with him. He would be the perfect travel partner to see all the beautiful corners of the world that you’ve never been able to appreciate. It’s like going somewhere for a business trip. You’re there working, not to appreciate everything around you.

There’s something kind of poetic about being at an airport as an actual crossroads in your life. It’s like you can get on a plane going anywhere. Quite literally, since you’re not sure where Wonwoo’s plane is going. Not that it really matters. If that’s the path you pick, then it’s for him rather than the destination.

The only question left is whether you’re ready to leave your entire life behind. Are you ready to say goodbye to the agency that saved you? Are you ready to cut yourself off from the few people who actually know you and accept you as you are? Can you live without having any closure on that part of your life? Would you feel guilty that Seungcheol would be left with a million questions about what happened to you? Or would it hurt you to know that he would blame himself for your disappearance somehow? Then again, maybe he would know, on some level, that you just finally reached the point of needing to walk away. That’s something you and him have talked about before, in the early hours of the morning after too much to drink. What would you do if you could walk away from this life? What would life after The Agency look like?

With a deep breath, you pick your path and you don’t look back. That’s the only way you know you’ll have the strength in your decision.

i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please reblog or comment and let me know 💕

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mooooonnnzz · 1 year

Text

don’t text and swing! // miles morales x reader

miles loves texting and he loves you, what could go wrong?

cute lil miles texting headcanons

sum short n simple

readers gender not rlly specified

ooc miles?? idfk how he would text so i tried my best 😭

requests r open!!

miles says mentirosa that jus means liar

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

🕷️ You’re never guaranteed a full on conversation with Miles because most the time he leaves you on open. He doesn’t do it on purpose, really. He just so happens to be a very busy man so trying to talk to him when he isn’t saving New York is pretty difficult.

9:55 pm [ miles <3 ]: Hey did u still one of my jackets

9:55 pm [ miles <3 ]: *steal idk how i got still

9:55 pm [ miles <3 ]: Anyways I cant find it anywhere and ik u have something to with it

10:00 pm [ miles <3 ]: I know ur not ignoring me rn…

10:01 pm [ you ]: oh wow of course im the first person you blame

10:01 pm [ you ]: also i dont have it ☝️

10:02 pm [ miles <3 ]: Who else would take my jackets??

10:02 pm [ miles <3 ]: This also isn’t the first time my jackets OR hoodies have gone missing

10:02 pm [ miles <3 ]: And somehow they always end up in your room

10:03 pm [ miles <3 ]: Suspicious right…🤨

10:06 pm [ you ]: oh shit by some magical force

10:06 pm [ you ]: your jacket managed to teleport to my bed!!

10:07 pm [ you ]: and somehow…IT FLEW ON ME?? AND NOW IM WEARING IT?

10:07 pm [ you ]: this is actually crazy…

10:15 pm [ you ]: wait miles where did you go

10:25 pm [ you ]: are you mad?

10:30 pm [ you ]: no way ur mad

10:40 pm [ you ]: MILES

10:42 pm [ you ]: HELLO

10:43 pm [ you ]: MILESSSS

10:56 pm [ you ]: oh wait mb you’re probably busy saving somebody

10:56 pm [ you ]: got a lil crazy there

10:57 pm [ you ]: ignore all that

1:00 am [ miles <3 ]: I KNEW IT

1:00 am [ miles <3 ]: It’s okay i like you a little deranged 😩

1:03 am [ you ]: why are you texting me at one in the morning

1:04 am [ miles <3 ]: Why are you replying?

1:05 am [ you ]: have you been fighting since 10?

1:12 am [ miles <3 ]: I’ve been studying! 🤓

1:12 am [ you ]: LIAR i know what you are…

🕷️ You text him while he’s in the middle of fighting? You bet he’s going to respond. While giving himself a reasonable distance away from the villian, he holds out his pointer finger and says; “Hold on, let me respond to them real quick…” While they’re throwing punches at Miles, he’s dodging all of them while texting you back. Though, he’s text aren’t legible. At least he thinks they are! All Miles wants to do is talk to you, even if you don’t understand half the things he’s typing. Texting him while he’s swinging has the same effect. He has dropped his phone multiple times and he’s always caught it before it could land on the street, though when his webs come in contact with his screen it registers as someone typing so without even knowing he’s spamming you a whole bunch of jumbled letters.

3:45 pm [ you ]: hey miles can i come over for dinner

3:45 pm [ you ]: im craving ur moms food 😍

3:46 pm [ miles <3 ]: oys of cours

3:48 pm [ you ]: did u just have a stroke

3:53 pm [ miles <3 ]: noi busy

3:53 pm [ you ]: if you’re busy why r u texting me 😭

3:53 pm [ you ]: go back to fighting or wtv ur doing

3:56 pm [ miles <3 ]: i wMt to talk toyj

3:58 pm [ you ]: u can talk to me later miles

3:58 pm [ you ]: im not going away

4:00 pm [ miles <3 ]: hatr

5:46 pm [ miles <3 ]: HEYYY

5:46 pm [ you ]: HII are you not busy anymore

5:47 pm [ miles <3 ]: Yeah

5:48 pm [ miles <3 ]: How’s your day been?

5:49 pm [ you ]: it’s been ehhhhh

5:49 pm [ you ]: i’ve been missing you 😔

5:51 pm [ miles <3 ]: ooajbdko092828900

5:51 pm [ miles <3 ]: 08:$jjaoppapp

5:52 pm [ miles <3 ]: !!!!!

5:54 pm [ you ]: what

6:00 pm [ miles <3 ]: I DROPPED MY PHONE

6:01 pm [ miles <3 ]: ANYWAYS back to what you were saying

6:02 pm [ miles <3]: I’ve been missing you too

6:04 pm [ you ]: youre no better than those people who text and drive 😐

6:05 pm [ you ]: don’t text and swing miles

🕷️ He loves sending you videos of him showing off in his suit. He did a cool trick midair? He’s going to prop up his phone somewhere and start recording, once he perfects the move and edits out any unneeded footage and he sends them to you. He’s all giddy when he does, in his head he’s like, “Will that impress them?” “Do they think that’s cool?” “They’re going to love this!”

11:00 am [ miles <3 ]: (1 attachment video)

11:00 am [ miles <3 ]: What do you think??

11:00 am [ miles <3 ]: Pretty cool right

11:03 am [ you ]: (1 attachment photo)

11:04 am [ you ]: LOOK AT THE FACE YOU MADE WHWN YOU JUMPEDD AHHHHH 💀

11:04 am [ you ]: this is going to be my new lock screen

11:05 am [ miles <3 ]: 😐

11:06 am [ miles <3 ]: Are you going to ignore the cool spin i did?

11:07 am [ you ]: oh sorey

11:08 am [ you ]: THAT WAS A REALLY SICK SPIN

11:09 am [ miles <3 ]: Mentirosa 😒

🕷️ Miles also sends you photos. It ranges from him swinging in midair or him relaxing on top of a building with his lunch in hand. He loves to keep you updated on his life. You’re the only one in this universe that knows his secret, so he texts or shows you everything he comes across as SpiderMan.

3:00 pm [ miles <3 ]: (1 attachment photo)

3:00 pm [ miles <3 ]: Look how pretty the view is from up here

3:00 pm [ you ]: oooh that’s actually so pretty

3:01 pm [ you ]: who knew new york could actually look nice for once?

3:02 pm [ miles <3 ]: I’m going to take you here one day for lunch

6:54 pm [ miles <3 ]: (1 attachment photo)

6:54 pm [ miles <3 ]: You should put this as your lock screen

6:55 pm [ you ]: it’s just you doing the peace sign while swinging

6:55 pm [ miles <3 ]: You said that like it’s a bad thing

6:55 pm [ miles <3 ]: It’s a nice photo :(

6:58 pm [ you ]: look i set it as my lock screen

6:58 pm [ you ]: (1 screenshot)

6:59 pm [ you ]: everyones gonna see that i know spiderman

6:59 pm [ miles <3 ]: YES GOOD

🕷️ He texts you nonsense sometimes. You could be chilling, watching something to pass the time and he will text you something so utterly stupid you would have to take a moment to process it.

10:00 am [ miles <3]: (1 attachment photo)

10:00 am [ you ]: u just sent an empty plate of food?

10:00 am [ miles <3 ]: Yeah cuz I ate 😜

10:01 am [ miles <3 ]: Like literally

10:03 am [ you ]: enough.

fanks to everyone who sent in requests IM WIRITN G THEM RN ✍️

#into the spider verse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales head cannons #miles morales fanfic #miles morales fic #miles morales hc #miles morales text fic #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader

3K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 10 months

Text

summary: in which jungkook loves to see you smile and you are the god of mischief.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff / word count: 2.6k

content/warnings: mention of childhood insecurity, mention of biting during s*x, jk is very touchy, they watch a movie and the guard thinks they’re doing sumn nasty bc they’re both a menace honestly 😭, jk accidentally bites his lower lip and bleeds

> in which masterlist!

note: hi !! this is a repost of a drabble i wrote two (?) years ago but accidentally deleted lololol so if you’ve read it before that’s why! but this is now an edited version with a new title <3

—

“baby,”

jungkook calls your attention out of nowhere, pausing the movie playing on the tablet you’re holding. the frown painted on his face is difficult to miss.

“i have a question.”

“so randomly?” you raise an eyebrow. “ask me then.”

“why do you cover your face when you’re happy?”

the wide-eyed look of genuine curiosity on his face is identical to yesterday’s, when he asked you what the word ineffable meant after hearing it in a song.

the question prompts you to take a glance at the screen, where a sophisticated woman has a hand over her mouth as she giggles with her elite acquaintances about an old but classic rich husband joke.

“it’s not that it bothers me, i just- i’ve noticed it lately and i-i wish to see you smiling and laughing more freely, you know?” he tries his best to choose his words carefully, offering you a kind smile as he lovingly caresses your head. “it makes me happy when i see you happy.”

“oh,” you blink at him, mind going blank as you attempt to form an answer in your head. his touch isn’t exactly helping you either— you just want to melt into him and not think of anything at all, float on cloud-nine and stay there forever.

however, seeing as he asked you the question out of the blue, he must’ve been thinking about it a lot. you’ve only been dating for a few months, so it’s understandable for him to eagerly seek the answers to his curiosities and observations. if anything, it feels nice to learn he gives this much attention to you— possibly notices things you don’t even know about yourself. for a split second the thought crosses your mind, that beyond a consciousness, you are tangible and real.

“it’s a habit i guess? when my teeth were falling out for the first time as a kid, i became insecure, so i decided that i’d just smile without showing my teeth from then on. like this.”

you demonstrate by lifting up the corners of your lips.

“and yeah-”

as if he’s helplessly pulled by the magnet of attraction, he leans down to kiss you and interrupt your sentence.

“i’d cover my face when i couldn’t contain my smile or laugh. and even when they grew back, it felt weird. like my smile didn’t belong to my face? if that even makes sense.”

“yah, that’s not true! you’re very pretty whether you’re smiling, or crying and-” his warm hand cups your cheek, and he stupidly grins as he’s about to say something cheesy. “even when you’re just breathing.”

the corners of your lips rise again. this time, it’s genuine.

“oh? how romantic.” you scrunch your nose cutely, and his heart flutters.

you hold onto his wrist, revelling in the way his thumb softly traces shapes on your skin.

“i’m over that, though. it was so long ago. i don’t think about it obsessively anymore at least. it’s really just a habit i haven’t gotten rid of.” you reassure him, meaning every word that you say.

we all have our secrets and fears that we keep only to ourselves, that much is understood between the two of you. there are circumstances in which withholding information is necessary. however, the one big promise you made to each other is to never lie. honesty and trust. ease and consolation. every word, every syllable hanging from your lips an addition to the naked history of your love. passed down stories. confessions. blurry memories. shutter sounds. curses. laughter. song dedications. that much is true.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smile, beguiled by his love drunk eyes seemingly stunned by your mere presence beside him.

“like what, baby?”

you shy away from his gaze. “like you’re either thinking that i hang the stars on the sky every night… or that you want to eat me alive.”

to confirm your words true, he takes your hand and sinks his teeth on the flesh of your palm where your thumb is connected. his wide doe eyes peer at you innocently, sparkling like of a little kid eating the fluffy pancakes he’s been craving since last night.

the latter might sound like a joke to others, but jungkook does eat you alive. almost. basically. you’re not even shocked at the act anymore. soon enough, you’ll memorize the mark of his teeth carving their mark on your skin, both in sexual and non-sexual setting.

“babe,” you send him a bewildered stare. “i really don’t think i taste as good as you make me out to be.”

he parts away with his eyebrows knitted in disagreement. “not true. you’re yummy.”

“oh, shut up!” you burst into a fit of giggles. your hands automatically attempts to fly to your face, but he has your wrists bound with his secure grip. you don’t resist. you only laugh harder when your sight lands on your hands tangled together.

“there’s ____’s beautiful smile.” he coos, proceeding to pepper your face with appreciative kisses.

and you fold. your back lands on the soft mattress, and your belly starts aching from laughter when he purposely blows on the spot on your neck where you’re most ticklish. hot tears gather at the corner of your eyes, and jungkook watches them fall down your temples as his lips graze your skin and your body shakes underneath him.

tears of joy and pleasure are the only tears you’re going to shed, he promises himself. you’re going to smile and make flowers bloom everyday, he promises you and the earth.

—

your teeth chattering from the cold is a shy away from your awkward smile, he notices the endearing resemblance as you shiver beside him.

“hmm, what did i tell you about cinema one?” he teasingly asks as he draws back the armrest that serves as a divider between the two of you.

“that it’s fucking cold in there-” you surrender, tone sounding annoyed. “here. whatever!”

“and who still decided to wear their smallest pieces of clothing?” he continues to taunt you while he pulls you into his body’s natural warmth.

you sigh, whether it’s in relief or annoyance, you’re not quite sure.

“i just wanted to wear my new cute clothes.” you whisper-shout.

the giant screen is still playing trailers of the upcoming movies this year, and you’re already mentally updating your calendar to accommodate them despite your hectic schedule. a two-hour vacation, you would always describe films.

he chuckles, and more shivers run down your spine at the deep and raspy sound being so close to your ear. “you do look cute today, baby.”

he catches the cloth of your skirt between his fingers, and somehow, he ends up squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh. you swallow thickly, unconsciously closing your thighs together and trapping his hand in between them.

“thank you, handsome.” you grip his wrist to move it away. you tut. “no silly business, though. i really want to watch this movie.”

his shoulders drop dramatically in disappointment. “okay… want to sit on my lap so i can keep you warm then?”

you look behind you to see that there’s no people sitting on your side, so no one’s view would get blocked if you were to agree to his proposition. the room is practically empty, with a few scattered people sitting on the sides.

you spend the first fifteen minutes of the movie in comfort and bliss, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. he took off his jacket earlier, and he splayed it over your lap as to not neglect the goosebumps rising all over your freezing legs.

“so stubborn,” jungkook muttered under his breath while he was taking off the jacket, an amused smile etched on his lips. you would’ve felt bad, but you knew he likes doing these things for you, so you only playfully stuck your tongue out at him.

look, to be fair, it is your first time in this cinema. you’ve been on many dates at this theater with jungkook, but for some reason, you’ve never watched a movie in cinema one until tonight. it’s cold in the other three cinemas as well, the kind of cold you’ve gotten comfortable with, so when jungkook booked the tickets last night and told you ‘it’s really cold in there, wear something warmer,’ you thought he was just being ridiculous.

hah, how cold could it possibly be? right?

fine, jungkook is right. you are stubborn.

and you prove it once more when a flashlight shines over your face. the security guard holding it approaches your seat- wait, no, jungkook’s seat. jungkook is your seat. what?!

“i’m sorry, but only one person can sit on the chair. please comply.”

you trace the direction of her eyes to find jungkook’s hands tucked underneath the jacket on your lap, resting on your inner thighs to steal their warmth. you send him a sharp glare, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. he only shrugs, obviously hiding a smirk as he pretends to be the most innocent person in the room.

you pull up the armrest next to you with a pout, slipping back into your original seat against your wishes.

“he was just warming up his hands. i promise!” you whisper not so subtly to the guard.

she only clears her throat and awkwardly nods in response, walking up the stairs to observe the rest of the movie watchers.

you bury your face in your hands as your body vibrates with mirth mixed with humiliation, and jungkook’s jaw nearly falls on the floor.

“sometimes i can’t believe you’re real. how do you never get shy?”

“i was just clearing things up!” you whine, hitting his arm using the side of a closed fist, which he massages with a squeaked ‘ouch.’ “you’re the one who put me in a compromising situation!”

“well, nobody told me taking care of my girlfriend was a crime!”

you carry on with watching the movie after that embarrassing scene, and you’ve forgotten that you’re cold until you’re uncontrollably shivering again. you begin rubbing your arms in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the goosebumps, but you eventually abandon all hope.

you sadly look over at your boyfriend to plead for help once more, but he has gotten too engrossed with the film to feel a pair of shaking pupils beseech him intensely. he finally opened the box of popcorn he’s been saving for the climax.

and he was the one who wanted to do something other than watch the movie.

you grimace.

you are no stranger to his confusing attention span.

after carefully studying the room to ensure the guard is no longer in sight, you unceremoniously climb on jungkook’s lap again. your actions cause some pieces of popcorn to fall from the box, and he scrambles to stuff them all in his mouth before the powder stains any of your clothes. yours are new, after all.

his face displays a puzzled expression, screaming i thought this was supposed to be a compromising situation?! and his soft rosy cheeks on the other hand-

“you look like a chipmunk who got caught in the headlights stealing food with its mouth full.”

the screen flashes a frame of the clear, blue sky in the aftermath of a ferocious storm. it sends the fleeting sunlight to shine on your face— just long enough for him to capture the image of how pretty you are when you giggle, and most of all, how your hand moves to cover your face, but drops on his arm before it could reach its intended destination.

he recognizes it as a conscious effort, and he feels a tug in his heart. his sweet, precious lover. you will never do anything wrong in his eyes, he thinks to himself as he hugs you closer for a kiss. the feeling of your smile against his lips might just be one of his most favorite things in the world.

he pulls away with a toothy grin to match yours, offering you the box of popcorn. the beautiful smile you claimed to not belong on your face lingers as you turn it down and sip on the lemonade instead. and then it simmers down to your usual mellow smile, to a deep frown, until your lips quiver as the resolution of the film reduces you into a puddle of tears.

jungkook likes to keep mental notes about you.

an excerpt from today:

1. how to make ____ smile? act cute.!! :)

2. how to make ____ cry? watch a son and mother reunite after eighteen long years.

p.s. i think i cried harder, but quieter ????

3. how to make ____ angry mad furious? kill off the said mother unnecessarily at the end of the movie for the sake of shu shock value.

the lights turn on all at the same time as the credits start rolling down on the plain black screen. your body slumps back on your boyfriend, drained by the series of overwhelming events that transpired in the past two hours. he waves his hand infront of your face, but your eyes remain unfocused and unblinking.

“this is the worst movie i have ever seen in my life. four out of five stars.”

he snorts at your unseriousness. “that is the most stars you’ve given this month. and it’s the 29th.”

“see? it’s the worst! i’m going to have nightmares!” you cry out with an exaggerated shudder, grabbing his forearms to envelope yourself in his embrace.

“honestly, pushing her off the cliff was a bit too mu-” his sentence gets rudely cut off when your shoulder accidentally hits his chin. you scrambled to go back to your seat, and this escalated to him accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip. the unusual mix of the bitter and salty taste of metal permeates his tongue as an unexplainable expression spreads across his face.

on the other hand, you’re too preoccupied with mischievously smiling at the guard standing down on the floor. she measures you up with a displeased look worse than earlier’s, but much to your relief, she proceeds to walk out after scanning the room one last time.

“baby!” jungkook yells in pain to grab your attention, jutting out his bottom lip to show you the wound that you inflicted.

“oh my god- shit, shit, shit-” you curse, digging your hand in your bag in search of your handkerchief. “i’m so sorry!”

you press the cloth on the bleeding, profusely apologizing to him with a wince. “i panicked! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

he pushes your wrist away for a moment, doe eyes squinting at you accusingly. “you just wanted to play around with her, didn’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, the sight of blood that has stained the handkerchief sends a pang of guilt across your chest. “sorry… her face- she was just so funny.”

“fuck, why are you like this?!” he throws his head back with a bright laugher that echoes throughout the theater. “ah, you’re so adorable!”

“come back here!” you scold him, holding his face in your hands to crane it back down.

he juts out his bottom lip again, but his body continues to vibrate with lighthearted chortles.

“does it hurt?”

“it hurts…! i think i might seriously cry!” he answers despite his high tolerance for pain, distorting the truth so that he could drown himself in the gratifying feeling of being doted on by you.

he writes another mental note as you inspect his wound, repetitive bloopers playing in the background of the love bubble the two of you share.

4. ____ likes playing games with strangers. must protect with my life.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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morbidmorbid · 4 months

Note

Daryl finally reaching the point of the relationship where he can just surrender to the one he loves. Him, on his knees, face buried in your cunt just because he understands now just how much he loves you and can bare himself to you completely.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ADD TO THIS!!! THAT PERSON HAS SINGLE HANDEDLY LEFT ME FERAL OMG!!!! i need that man, I think we ALL need that man 💳💥💳💥

i got uuuuu and sorryyy i’m so late to this i’m a slow writer plus life but here u go !! um this wasn’t supposed to be.. all of this but i can’t help myself. explodes.

18+

⁀➷

it was challenging to get daryl to sleep sometimes.

eyes peel open, gradual, slow. sleep doesn’t weigh heavy on your lids, hadn’t deemed the chance to for prolonged rest was difficult to come by. still, finding idleness was an almost unfamiliar casual occurring and while slow to get comfortable with, it wasn’t completely unwanted. so when your muscles ache and the death in your face suffocates you, you take the chance of a bed and a falsified home even if it comes to be fleeting.

daryl sits perched on the windowsill, cigarette alight.

his dislike for new or change wasn’t the case now, perhaps it was that constant uneasiness that came with the ignorance of another world. daryl, in this state of the world, didn’t kneel to forged comfort—he’d told you that not with his words but with the emptiness in alexandria where his presence should be. he’s recruiting with aaron, he’s on a run, he’s not here. you understand his reservation and while you often touched convictions with him, this was a bit different, this one felt close enough to right.

you don’t bother maneuvering much, only turning a curious head over in his direction. the tidied sheets beneath you ruffle in contact.

“so that’s why i couldn’t sleep.” you say and it’s light, a quip that gently prods. it’s a joke at him forgoing the spot in bed beside you for hard wood beneath him and smoke in his lungs.

daryl takes a drag and pinches it between fingers. inhale, eyes you, exhale, turns away. “right, sorry.” he apologizes for it in his seriousness, watches your eyebrows scrunch in hilarious disbelief and tips in: “looked pretty damn sleep to me, though.”

he hadn’t bothered to crack a window amidst his smoke and it infiltrates the air. it fills your lungs and keeps you from biting back at him that, yeah, you might’ve been somewhere drowned in a dream—whatever those conjured up to be in this time—and it’s an odd thing. to sleep, to fall in deep enough to become unaware of the real around you, and you stick daryl on that development. perhaps things wouldn’t be that simple or easy, there wouldn’t be the opportunity, the comfortability in letting go for a breath.

if not for him perched right where he sits against the glass and looming around you in your vulnerability, likely ignorant to the umbrella of defense he creates.

the sun is long gone and doesn’t burn against the glass like before you’d dozed, only now the enveloping darkness.

“when did you get back?” you ask. his crossbow leans dirty against the wall near the threshold, arrows bloodied. daryl hasn’t shaken the vest or his shoes, nor the dirt on his hands and wedged beneath his fingernails. you reckon thirty minutes, though daryl surprises you.

another drag. “sun was still shinin’ over ya.” he says. it’s been a long while, then. had he eaten? or had he’d smoked his few stale cigarettes and chewed on his thoughts in the stretch of time and that itself is an upsetting possibility.

you purse your lips and your locked fingers dance against eachother, thoughtful. while he seems as he always is, he isn’t. there’s a reason behind everything, the good and the bad, and this one fell between both. “can you come over here? i’m cold.” daryl was a cautious man with little trust and that was good in this world, but right here his hesitancy to pursue not only this false town but you as well was not as pretty as good reasons go.

but that was selfish thinking and unfair to daryl’s morals.

he watches you and years prior he’d been unreadable, but you’re accustomed and he looks like someone who doesn’t believe your words. “it’s sweatin’ balls in here.” he unnecessarily shoots back. daryl, always running behind with your jokes, or maybe he understands but shies away from what you’re asking. daryl was always someone who’d have to work back into accustoms if detached for a while, always slow to reciprocate—even though he so strongly did—lest you’re persistent.

“well, i’m shivering.” you’re saying as you make to rub two hands together to search for warmth. warmth you didn’t need for it already filled you, but a tactic is a tactic.

daryl scoffs a laugh that’s too quiet to catch, but it’s seen. he stubs out his cigarette then, marks the wood in an ugly manner. when he makes the small walk towards the bed, towards you, you’re meeting him halfway as you walk on knees to the edge.

he stops when you speak up. “you’re not getting in bed with all that shit on, are you?”

“was.” he confirms and shrugs and it’s humorous to see how serious he is, how he doesn’t grasp onto the issue.

“take it off, it seems uncomfortable.”

“i ain’t uncomfortable.”

“daryl.”

daryl could be good with orders—could be, a meticulous sort of arrangement—when he agreed with them. this was a mixed case whereas he seemed pulled between the two; the look in his eyes and the firm stance before you screaming i’m fine, i’m staying put. then the other end of the stick with what he eventually complied with in the form of slouched shoulders, guard down, capable of finding that same comfortability in your ways that strived for his growth that he does in his own ways.

still, he grumbles. “ya killin’ me.” and then his jacket goes, his vest, his worn stitched gloves.

you know that daryl prefers to be prepared no matter the situation, doesn’t like to be bared to the world for not even a breath and his heedfulness is commendable. though right here in the warm box that isn’t your inauthentic bedroom but your presence, you recognize his needs are a broad category and this is one of the many.

daryl needs his own relief to come back to despite the state of the world—everyone else has their own, whether in another or in themselves or in between, and daryl deserved just as much.

when he goes to indulge you, two hands coming down against the mattress, you dodge. “don’t forget your shoes, dar.” and he’s all eye contact before finally crouching down. “no shoes in bed, it’s barbaric.”

“guessin’ i oughta get my underwear off, right?” he smiles a small one, sarcastic. “beat ya to the punch.”

you shrug for the joke and he scoffs at it. he bends at the knees nevertheless, lightly hitting the floor and fingers reaching to shove themselves in the heel of his shoe. one goes and joins the pile, but before he can twin the other foot, you’re bringing a hand to his hair. he’s a bit sweaty there, strands darkened in consequence and instead of grimacing, your chest swells with pride, gratitude; daryl’s a fighter and it shows even in the smallest things.

“thank you, by the way. really.” you say when you notice he’s halted his movements. he doesn’t budge even when you move from strand to strand, fixing him, watching his forehead come into view. his brows and shoulders remain lax which is good, encourages you. had it been before he would’ve been a quick hand on your forearm with alarm, unfamiliar in the intimacy, hesitant.

he doesn’t look up yet. “thankin’ me for?” and against your palm he leans.

“i don’t know, everything—for fighting.” you elaborate and it’s then that he’s lifting his head, squinted eyes sharp.

daryl was always shy eyes when commended. he holds your gaze in increments now and you take the moment to let your hands travel. they’re slow and deliberate where they land along the expanse of his jaw and against the hairs on his face. daryl moves with you in whichever direction you think to turn him, and while it’s cute and certainly heavy intimate development on his part, you don’t call him out on it for he embarrasses easily and having him shy away now was not a good call.

“ain’t just me.” he finally says and since he doesn’t like spotlight, “it’s you, michonne, rick—“

“i know.” you cut in. daryl reads into your simple response almost immediately if the expression he holds is telling; a bit taken aback, slightly flustered, understanding. there’s something in your chest that screams pride when daryl comes to realize when you’re making things about him, when you’re specifically singling him out, when you’re picking out all of his goods and positives and displaying them before himself.

daryl preens under your touch. the touch of yours that continues to travel, dancing in his hair, brushing against the skin of his face, running knuckles over cheekbones and forehead wrinkles. every crevice, every bump different. it’s distracting for daryl, you learned prior, lures his mind to a standstill, tugs the words back down his throat. he’s typically left with little to say to you when you’re on him like this, instead speaks with his eyes of a solace he finds between the both of you.

“your hands.” he eventually comments.

“my hands?” although now under scrutiny, they don’t pause their exploration.

“warm. said you were freezin’.”

your lips purse then at his delayed reckoning, laughter at the tip of your tongue. it slips despite your efforts, low and loose, makes daryl squint in situational ignorance. at the prison, daryl had once complimented your laugh under and against the metal of the cell beds, had thrown a ‘nevermind’ in quickly after you’d cooed at him for it.

“well, of course they’re warm now.” you bring them to his neck now, tip of your thumbs caressing his ears. “still cold all over, though.”

and instead of questioning you further, instead of coming up to engulf you in a hug, daryl brings his face into your abdomen. it’s not a punch of air that you lose, but your ability to form coherent thoughts. it’s him not exactly nuzzling, but breathing steadily into the cloth of your shirt, soft inhale, soft exhale. this means something because it always means something.

daryl hides the sudden salacious fervor on his face in the shield that your body creates. it’s obvious, so obvious, because he’s strong and unmoving where you attempt to lift his head.

while it is sudden, the dots seem to connect—daryl, with his lack of space to ever position himself to submit, does so openly right now because there is an opening for it. while he so genuinely kneeled for his shoes, you picked up on the way his pupils dilated when he did find your eyes—ever so brief during those three second variables. it was then that you knew.

“everything okay?” you ask lightly. everything is okay, daryl is so evidently okay which is why he pursues this. you ask anyway, though. daryl says he likes verbal confirmation and reassurance from you and he’d be a hypocrite to not like for you to reciprocate.

“mhm.” it’s muffled against your body which begins to gradually curl around him, between your legs which have swamped him in. “just ain’t comfortable down here.”

“really? you aching already?” you retort with a low laugh.

daryl doesn’t say anything else, nor does he make to stand.

“dick’s hard.” is what he comes up with and it’s so sudden and not at all vague.

you’ve thought it to be the case, so it doesn’t surprise you much. it was apparent the moment he hide himself in what you’d call shame. shame that looked to only follow him in the structure of built up carnal strain that’d been canned inside of him. daryl behaved like he didn’t have a clue that he had it or how to exactly deal with it. when the relationship had sprouted into a much more personal manner, it was always you who’d ‘handle’ daryl even when he struggled finding it in himself to.

he’s bringing hands up and they’re situating themselves on your waist. his hold isn’t suffocating, but it’s tight, fidgeting where he tries to keep his energy levels even.

“if you want something, daryl..” you begin slowly, anticipating where this will take you both. where your hands still sit in daryl’s hair, you pull again and he finally gives way and holy shit.

“ask ya for it.” he finishes, and before you can ponder too long why he already looks so fucking out of it, he’s already beating you to it. “think i busted.” he grunts around the words, fingers twitching against you and he forgoes his hold to wipe the back of his hand against his lips. it looks to be a habit that has budded from his nerves which he strives to conceal.

“did you?..”

daryl curls his lips inwards, another habit, adjusts his knees on the floor. “well, it ain’t piss.“

“oh. you wanna clean up and come up here? we can just—“ daryl was weird with embarrassment, and while it was fun to poke and prod, he’d probably string himself dry thinking back on this, so you try to move it along—not mention it for a moment longer.

“nah.” i’ll stay here is what he says with his actions, bringing his face back to your abdomen, kisses through the shirt. despite his own interference daryl is still there; he shows that he still feels the sensual crave all within himself with the way he simply picks back up regardless of the mess in his pants.

admittedly, it brings a slight tremble down into the pit of your stomach.

you’re whispering out a light okay as he proceeds, hands at your waist shifting and bringing your shirt upwards, tidbits of flesh now exposed. it seems purposeful because he’s then all dry lips and scratchy facial hair against your skin, drinking you in, dirty hands squeezing where they can.

you’re calling out his name to which he responds to with a stronger aggression in action; oddly firm presses of his lips evolving into these tiny nips of teeth, pushing against you enough to send you back onto your palms.

rare were the moments that daryl’s usually subdued needs make such a sudden head. when he’s functioning one moment, high off plenty cigarettes in his normal, and the next he’s chasing you lewdly like he’s just always been without fornication—and he has.

daryl advances south, hands still at your waist, breath fanning over your pants. they’re of comfort with no zipper or buttons to act as a task to undo, so daryl gets to you easily. his hands shake a little as he hooks fingers in the waistband of your pants, not all nervousness but moreso an eagerness that it seems he struggles keeping at bay.

though despite this, he handles you with a certain gentleness and allows himself this moment of vulnerability, of exploration in a way that leaves you both bare in every sense.

your bottoms pull down and you help to kick them off and away.

“gentle.” you say when he stuffs a sweaty face directly into you, hands cupping your legs from beneath, spreading them enough to fit himself comfortably between. “i’m not as flexible as i used to be.”

“can’t tell.” he shoots back in his playfulness that is typically delivered dryly.

he shifts on his knees again, but doesn’t seem entirely too bothered, instead doesn’t spend another second without a tongue pressed wetly against you through the fabric of your garment. he laps at the cloth, grunts incoherencies, presses thumbs into your under thigh, tries to hide the not so subtle clenching in his abdomen. he’s hard again, straining and obvious, at the mercy of his body’s natural instinct to relieve the pressure by humping, rutting, fucking up into anything, searching for something.

“daryl, daryl.” you hiss when he tries to get his mouth on you whole down there, not stalling for anything. “shit, you—let’s take it slow.”

and you know in his current state it’s absurd to ask, he’s already gone.

but still, he hears you because he’s reluctantly pulling away, obedient.

“alright, now take them off, please.” you order, bringing a hand to his hair again. it creates a sort of stability for yourself, whilst for daryl it only tips him more towards the edge.

and since daryl runs on orders, he’s quick to move again with hands sliding you out of the underwear and down your legs. you assist with kicking them off and away, and daryl doesn’t give you a breath in between because he’s a wet tongue on you in an instant.

it’s like something shifts in him—like something breaks, gives way to a heavily chased after relief—seeing the way his shoulders slack. you gasp, feeling the pleasure ripple up your spine, sit hotly in your gut.

“look at you, oh my god.” you begin to taunt and it’s s bit broken off, but still holds its weight. “you look so right down there.”

daryl gives a groan in return, fingers squeezing in protest, but you know he believes it, too.

your chest fills with a breath when he pops off, and it’s beautiful how concentrated he seems with the task. for once, his cheeks tint an airbrush of pink, featherlight and detailing to you just how aroused he is.

to use emphasis, in his still state, you use the opportunity to reel him back in at the hair. it elicits something loud and ruined out of him—a moan, a whine almost. he breathes through his nose when he’s tongue and teeth and cheeks all over you again, and it makes your back arch. the sounds he produces alongside the wetness that you are has you bringing ankles to his backside, locking him in and daryl’s moans are muffled and slightly garbled in reaction.

“you’re gonna—“ cracked. “you’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum.”

at that, he pursues you heavier now. like he’s eager to taste you, like he wouldn’t miss it for the world, daryl brings a hand up to rub what he can’t get. it’s wet and nasty and lewdly noisy, and your moans alike. with him using two times the pleasure, it sends you over just as fast.

your eyes squeeze tight as your body racks with the aftershocks, and daryl is ragged breaths somewhere in the void and you’re not sure if it’s him coming as well or the hand deep in his strands has him that strung out.

the wound up muscles in your body release as does your hold on him, and you’re falling to your back against the mattress.

it’s a while before your eyes are peeling open again, head lulled a bit. daryl stands to his feet again at the foot of the bed, cracked bones and all.

“hey.” he starts quietly, haphazardly wipes his mouth. he hovers over you laid out on the bed, arms encasing your head and body heat transferring. “we alrigh’?” his concern etches outside of his tone and into his hot hand that now covers your cheek and ear. his thumb runs over your moist cheekbones and his eyes stick to yours like syrup.

you nod. “yeah.” you assure and watch his expression ease up. “i’m definitely alright. are you?”

he mimics your nod. “mhm.”

“don’t.” you say when he attempts to embrace you entirely. “shower. both of us.” and when he doesn’t respond—“shower. you came twice in your pants.”

daryl shoves his face in the crook of your neck then, ears red.

when the water eventually does come down on you both, it’s shameless in its lack of purity. daryl, despite the night, used a handjob from you underneath the stream before he’d grown shaky in the shoulders and grumpy in the tone, apprehensive in his age. (“ain’t built for another, you’re killin’ me.”)

and he would know himself best because he’s droopy eyes and clean hair against the pillows afterwards, sleep weighing him down. he’s still like he doesn’t feel your gaze, but squints open an eye when you speak.

“i lied about being cold. wanted you in bed.” you smile to contain laughter.

daryl scoffs. “mhm, well .. shit worked.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd imagine #norman reedus

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dovveri · 29 days

Text

strangers

synopsis: trainee life is a lot tougher than you thought, but with three other trainees you met along the way, you have a little more hope that it’ll all be worth it in the end.

warnings: bad eating habits, mentions of vomiting and self-induced vomiting, swearing, suggestive, TOE-SUCKING, alcohol and parties, lots of feelings and trainee life angst

w/c: 19.2k !!!!! why is this like half of my entire bachelorette series jeezus

a/n: requested!! i actually dont fill reqs this quick but i had the idea alr and i lwk love writing poly i just think its so much messier and more confusing and FUN so writing this came a lot easier than writing other reqs do. also u lwk only have to read half of this and be happy yippee happily ever after OR u can potentially hurt urself and enjoy the angst but idk it’s not THAT bad so 🤗

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

“y/n?”

you blink, tilting your head up from your hiding spot under the table in the recording studio. it’s nayeon, one of the korean trainees. you hurriedly wipe your eyes on your sleeve, stumbling upwards and almost knocking your head on the bottom of the table.

“s-sorry. were you using this room? i’ll get out now-“

“no no! it’s okay i was just going to get some practice in and i saw you. are you… are you okay?” you appreciate her speaking slower for you, your grasp of korean still wasn’t the best.

“y-yeah i’m fine. i’ll just- leave you to it- sorry again-“

“are you sure? today’s actually my day off so i don’t have to be doing anything. i’m happy to just listen if you want…?”

you gulp, avoiding her gaze, nayeon was one of the trainees that everyone knew would most likely make it. you didn’t see much of her because she was always off on side jobs filming as a background dancer for music videos, booking small modelling gigs, and she was generally in more advanced classes than yours and was even set to debut in a group with a few others before the idea was scrapped. she was steadily making a name for herself even before the public knew her, something you couldn’t help but be envious of. but here she was, offering to listen to you of all people.

“i- um-“

“it’s okay. you can take your time.” she smiles sweetly, “i tried to take a few english classes but it’s a lot more difficult than i thought it’d be. so i can understand how hard it must be to come to a different country and learn a whole new language.”

“t-thank you. i was just um- i was actually just thinking about calling home and… and quitting.”

she nods, eyes filled with empathy, waiting for you to continue.

“i just- don’t think i can make it. there’s so many talented people here and this has always been my dream but i’m just not good enough and i don’t even- it doesn’t even make sense for me to be here when i could be back home getting an education or i don’t know- doing something with my life.”

“you don’t think what you’re doing now is something?”

you sigh, gripping your arm firmly, "it- it is but i don't know if it's all going to work out in the end."

"and you think going back home and going to school will guarantee things working out for you?"

"well- i- no, not for certain but-"

"so isn't the only difference that you actually want to do this? you don't want to end up working an office job for the rest of your life right?"

"but- like i'm more likely to get an office job than i am to debut-"

"i'm sure the office jobs will wait for you. idol life won't. if you don't make it, then the office job will always be there right? it's up to you though, i'm not trying to convince you to stay or leave, i just think it's a shame when you have a real chance at getting what you've dreamt of your whole life. you were scouted weren't you? did you know i auditioned to get in? and i had to hide it from my family because they didn't think this was a realistic job prospect, not when i was still in high school. so if you think you don't belong here, just remember you beat out other auditionees to get your spot as a trainee here, so you were good enough for that." she smiles brightly, her two protruding front teeth proudly on display, giving her the adorable likeability to a rabbit.

her words bring you back from the edge of panic, you've always looked at her through a lens of jealousy, wishing you had as much natural talent and star power as she did, but right now, you could see she was so much more than that, and you respected her for it, admired her for it.

"thank you nayeon." you finally meet the older girl's eyes, and her smile grows even brighter.

"of course. do you have any training schedules to get to right now? or do you want to stay here and practice some vocal chords with me?"

"would that be okay?" your eyes widen at her offer.

"yes! don't be silly y/n i know we're all meant to be competing or whatever but we're most likely going to debut in a group right? we can't just be out for each other's throats all the time."

you smile, finding her attitude refreshing, most of the trainees you had met were exactly like that, and you felt even more isolated when it was obvious they made no effort to get to know you because of the language barrier, to them, it was just another advantage they had over you.

"c'mon. let's see what you got."

your motivation reinvigorated, you spend the rest of the afternoon cooped up in the recording studio with nayeon, practicing together but also joking around and laughing, being the kids you were in an industry that stripped you of that freedom.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"これの読み方を知っていますか?"

"いいえ、私は愚かです."

you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, unable to shake the insecurity that they were talking about you. you were currently in your intensive korean class, waiting for the teacher to appear. the class was mostly quiet, except for the two girls sitting a table away from you, whispering and laughing, pushing each other around playfully.

when you glance towards them again, one of them meets your eye. you panic, whipping your head back down to your open textbook.

the girl who saw you whispers something to her seatmate, nodding towards you, bringing the other girl's attention to you as well.

you strain to see what they're doing in your peripheral vision, but the little giggles and whispers have you shrinking in even more on yourself, thinking they were making fun of you for whatever reason.

you don't notice when the one who spotted you first is suddenly standing next to you. she waits for you to acknowledge her, but when you don't she giggles again, leaning down and tilting her head so you had to look at her.

"hi. my name sana. you?"

"y-y/n."

"y/n? nice to meet you! that momo." she steps back a little and points at the other girl who waves shyly at you. you stare back at her, dumbfounded, reciprocating her wave.

"you... korean good?"

you blink, unsure of what to say, "umm... it's okay i guess."

sana grins, all teeth, almost blinding you, running back to her seat and picking up her textbook, skipping back towards you and plopping down in the empty seat next to you. she points at the page, "how to do?"

you look down to the question she has circled, it was part of the homework set from the last lesson. you flick back to that page in your own textbook, showing her and trying to explain with gestures what it was asking.

when it clicks, that blinding smile graces her features again, her eyes lighting up and quickly scribbling down the answer. then she turns to momo who seemed to be doodling little drawings all over her workbook instead of studying.

"モモリ馬鹿野郎 ! これがあなたのやり方です."

you shrink back into your seat, thinking she was done with you, only needing you to help her with her homework, and now that she was done, she could go back to making fun of you.

but instead, momo looks over curiously, standing up and hovering over the two of you. sana starts talking in rapid japanese, her hands flailing around excitedly.

momo nods along, and then she seems to get a moment of realisation, her eyebrows raising and mouth opening in the shape of an o, an "ahh!" escaping her.

sana looks back to you, "thank you! you so smart!"

you still don't really follow their conversation but you nod, shyly rubbing the back of your neck, "it's okay."

"we sit here?"

"sorry?"

sana frowns, an adorable pout forming on her lips, thinking over how to say what she wants. then she grabs momo's hand, gesturing between the both of them, "friends!", then she grabs your hand, gesturing between the three of you now, "friends?"

your hand is sweaty against sana's, you take note of how soft it feels against yours, heart stumbling a little over itself. you nod sheepishly, not expecting sana to grin, pulling you into a hug immediately.

momo goes to grab her things, and then settles into the seat on your other side, "sorry for her. she very huggy."

sana pouts, flicking momo's forehead playfully after she pulls away from you, "you like it too."

momo giggles, rolling her eyes.

things were moving so fast your brain was playing catch up. you knew the people here were a lot more affectionate than back home, but you still felt your heart racing from being in such close proximity with sana, and now momo too, the both of them squeezed against you and conversing lightly in broken korean and japanese while waiting for the teacher. it wasn't unwelcome though, this was the first time someone had asked you in such a straightforward way to become friends, it was refreshing, definitely better than the trainees in your vocal and dance classes who refused to interact with you at all.

when the teacher finally comes, he looks a little surprised at the change in seating, but doesn't comment on it, diving straight into the lesson.

sana and momo both try their best to keep up, sana remains fully engaged in the lesson, asking plenty of questions, while momo is the opposite. she's easily distracted, when the teacher goes on one of his off topic rants, she starts doodling in her textbook again, you repress a laugh at the stick men she drew frolicking around in fields with rainbows and stars. you can't help yourself but bring your pen to her page, adding a little deranged dog to her drawing.

she looks at you in surprise, but lets you finish, giggling at the result and drawing in some fur for the dog, fixing up your sorry attempt at a puppy.

the class finishes uneventfully after that. momo yawns, closing her book with relief while sana stretches, standing up and grinning down at the both of you.

momo looks at her warily, squinting, "what?"

"what?"

"you have not good look on your face. what you do?"

"what do you mean momoring?" sana's grin only grows wider.

"i don't want to get in trouble again."

"you woooon't. what you think y/n? want to sneak out get fried chicken and beer?"

momo groans, slumping down on her desk, muttering to herself in japanese while sana laughs at her reaction.

you look between the both of them, raising an eyebrow. you knew you shouldn't, but you hadn't had real food in so long, the company's strict diet and weight requirements always on all of your minds. and you hadn't really gone out and explored korea since you arrived. you'd pretty much been confined to the dorms and the company building, eating cafeteria food and living the same routine everyday, you knew the korean trainees would often get together after late night practices and have small gatherings the company wouldn't know about, but you were never invited to those.

you grin cheekily, "you have a plan?"

sana laughs, pulling you up to stand, hugging you once again in glee, "yay!! i knew we good friends! of course, it's not the first time momoring and i have snuck out." she pulls away with a wink.

momo grumbles behind you, slowly standing up as well, "last time you got us caught you said we were helping 'clean the streets'. stupid. we had extra exercise requirements for two weeks."

"we won't get caught this time! i promise! and if we do i pay for all our food."

momo perks up at that, eyeing sana, then holding out her pinky.

sana giggles, linking their pinkies and then dragging momo by their pinkies, and you by your hand out of the classroom and back towards the dorms to get ready.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"sana- move!" momo grunts, shuffling around in clothes too big for her, a cap that dipped over her eyes, and a mask to hide her face.

"shh! you're gonna get us caught!"

"no you are!"

"okay they're gone let's go." sana slinks forward in similar attire, careful to avoid the security cameras, flapping a sleeve behind her frantically to gesture the both of you to follow. momo glances at you, rolling her eyes but smiling, tiptoeing forward and following sana.

you're body is surging with adrenaline. you had always been a 'good' kid. you've never tried sneaking out of anywhere before. you were also trying to hold in your laughter at how stupid the three of you must look, the sunglasses covering your eyes while indoors and at 9pm at night glazing your vision.

you make it halfway across the main entrance, almost to the exit, hands shoved in your pockets.

"... y/n?"

you pause, heart pounding. the two in front of you stop as well, sana looks back at you in alarm.

you decide the best course of action is to pretend you didn't hear them. after all, they couldn't be sure you were yourself right now right? the absurd disguises made sure of that. you take another step forward.

"y/n what are you wearing? you look like vector from despicable me."

curse sana for lending you that naruto cosplay. you forgot how visible your disguise was.

you turn on your heel slowly, terribly embarrassed to have been discovered like this, mind scrambling to come up with an excuse for what the three of you were doing.

but you're stopped in your tracks when you realise who was teasing you with a wide grin, two front teeth on display. she laughs when she finally sees you, it's loud and bright, it'd scare you away if you hadn't already heard it plenty of times from her when she had found you in the practice room that day.

"you look so stupid. wait-" she whips out her phone, and before you can protest, she snaps a quick picture, laughing at her phone after checking the result.

"nayeonn!"

"i can't believe you tried to sneak out wearing that."

you pout, crossing your arms protectively over yourself, "i wasn't trying to sneak out!"

she raises an eyebrow, "yeah and i'm not gorgeous." she jokes sarcastically, before peeking over your shoulder and nodding behind you, "and who are those two losers behind you?"

you turn, taking off your ridiculous sunglasses and waving to let them know you were fine and to join you. sana tilts her head curiously, moving back towards you, tugging along momo who takes off her cap, blowing her hair out of her face.

"oh! you're the japanese duo that came here on the same day! i'm sorry i don't remember your names but i saw you dance and you were incredible." she directs the last part at momo, who blushes at the compliment, nodding and hiding behind her hair. sana grins though, bowing down and bringing momo down with her.

"i'm sana! this is momo!"

"nayeon. it's nice to meet you both." nayeon smiles sweetly, bowing as well and gesturing for them to stand up. "where were you guys headed?"

"chicken and beer! you want to come?" sana quips happily, excited to meet anyone new.

"how were you guys going to get beer?" nayeon jokes with a smirk.

sana tilts her head confusedly, she looks adorable in the clothes that drown her.

"you're all underage right?"

sana looks to you in confusion, not seeming to understand what underage meant.

"ah- none of us are 18..." you gesture to the three of you.

sana makes a sound of exclamation, not having thought about that particular detail.

nayeon laughs brightly, finding the japanese girl's antiques endearing. "good thing you have me then! c'mon. i know the best place as well, and no one from the company will go around there so we won't get caught." she winks, pulling a mask and cap out of her jacket pocket and slipping it on.

you blink, surprised at the change in events.

nayeon shrugs, "always gotta be ready if we're training to be idols right?" you can see the smirk in her eyes, before she charges forward without an answer and leads the four of you into the night.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

your shoulder hurt.

there's another bout of laughter, you flinch, preparing yourself.

sure enough, nayeon's large hands come clapping down on your arm, you wince, trying to smile your way through the sting of each slap.

it doesn't help when sana realises why you look constipated, cracking up even more pointing at you with a hand over her mouth, which makes nayeon laugh again for absolutely no other reason than that you were all wasted.

"nayeonnie calm down- you're going to kill y/n-" sana chokes out between giggles.

nayeon blinks, looking at you, face brightly flushed. she pouts, leaning in close, "what did i do?"

you flush even brighter, blaming the alcohol and not the way nayeon's eyes are glued to your lips, squinting and trying to focus on one part of your face only with her wobbly vision. you push her off of you gently, rubbing at your shoulder with a grimace, "you hit people when you're drunk.""

nayeon coos, chasing after you, "awwwwwh did i hurt you? poor baby. here lemme kiss it better." nayeon purses her lips together, pushing her face towards you while you whine and laugh, trying to push her away.

sana pipes up at the word, "kiss? who are we kissing? i wanna kiss!"

momo snorts, playing around with the bottle cap of the soju you had gotten to after you had all decided the beer wasn't enough. her face is probably the most flushed of you all, but she was also probably the most sane of you all currently. "don't you kiss enough?"

sana whines, poking momo's cheek, "no! you don't let me! c'mere-" she leans forward, tickling momo's sides, trying to get her to let her defenses down and land one on her. momo laughs, pushing sana off, scrambling away in urgency.

you aren't faring much better, but then you get an idea, "sanaaa! kiss nayeon! she's trying to get me!"

sana turns to you both, and she's never one to turn down a kiss so she leans across the table, yanking nayeon's head towards her and pulling her away from you. but what surprises you is when she plants a sloppy kiss right on the eldest's lips.

you look at momo, expecting to see a similar look reflected, but she rolls her eyes, calmly picking up the bottle and bringing it to her lips again to take a sip.

they break away with a smack, exaggerated on sana's end who giggles and licks her lips, grabbing the bottle from momo and taking a sip as well.

nayeon blinks, her brain seeming to catch up with her body 2 seconds late. when she realises what happens, she stands up abruptly with a screech, her metal chair scraping against the floor in pain. you wince at the sound, but laugh when you catch her face, now brighter than momo's, hand over her mouth in shock. sana and momo easily join you, cackling as nayeon flails around, sounds coming out of her mouth in incoherent phrases.

it seems the shop owner has had enough of the four of you though.

"yah! out! all of you! bedtime! 2am now! go go!" you all continue laughing as you're ushered out of your seats. you're all too drunk to notice the way the shop owner has fondly been watching you for the last few hours, cleaning around and keeping her shop open later than she normally opens, recalling the days she was young and stupid as well. she shouts at you while she pushes you out the door, but she also shoves a plastic bag of takeaway chicken into your hands as she pushes you out, telling you all to go home and not to cause too much trouble at this time of night.

you all laugh and thank her, sana even goes to kiss her cheek, cooing at how adorable she was in her apron and wrinkles.

when you've finally calmed down and take in the chill air of the night sky, you shiver a little, the alcohol sloshing around in your body not enough to keep you warm.

momo sidles up next to you, linking your hands together easily and pulling you against her.

you grin at her, tightening your grip around her hand that she's shoved into the warm pocket of her jacket pocket.

the peace is quickly disrupted when nayeon sends a stumbled kick your way from behind you. she misses though, tripping over herself and almost falling face-flat onto the ground save for sana hooking onto her waist quickly, pulling her back up with a laugh.

nayeon wraps an arm around sana's shoulder, thanking her for the support. "yah. you two. kiss. i can't be the only one who had to kiss someone today."

sana pouts, "why do you say that like you didn't like it?"

nayeon sputters, squinting up at sana from her slouched position, her weight almost entirely leaning on sana, "no i didn't- i didn't mean it like- no but- ugh-"

sana giggles, shuffling around so she can accommodate nayeon better.

momo turns her head, "no way loser. you two only kissed because you're both so kissy."

"what does that even mean?!"

"sana kisses everyone when she's drunk. and you're just as bad nayeon. i don't know how you can go drinking with just one person. you need at least 2 or 3 to hold you up when you get drunk." momo teases, sticking out her tongue.

"respect your elders you little shit!"

you all laugh at that, nayeon may have gotten you all drinks but she wasn't that much older than you. and she looks hilarious bringing a fist up in the air and waving it around like a little angry old lady, too much spite in too little a body, it was cute.

"wait... so the only one i haven't kissed yet is y/n?"

you freeze, ready to make a run for it at the earliest sign of danger.

nayeon grins, pushing sana off of her and towards you, "let's change that!"

your eyes widen, legs tensing up, ready to rush forward, you pull your intertwined hands out of momo's pocket. but right as you're about to take off, momo smirks, yanking you backwards and spinning you around until you're met with the soft, ready lips sana has wating for you.

"mmf-!"

your eyes are squeezed shut when momo spun you, terrified of falling onto your face, but now all you can feel is her hand still holding yours, sana's coming up to steady your hips, her lips pressing against yours gently.

all too quickly, she breaks away with a giggle, licking her lips again. it must be a habit.

you stare at her dumbly, mouth hanging open, lips tingling with the faint taste of strawberry soju.

nayeon has ended up on the floor without anyone supporting her, cackling loudly and pointing at your dumbfounded look.

momo stifles a few chuckles as well, her hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

sana simply smiles, closing your mouth with her hand, brushing a thumb over your jaw in the process, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

you flush up immediately, whipping around and staring at the floor, the tips of your ears bright red.

sana laughs, cooing, "awwwwh! you're so cute! look at her guys! she's blushing!"

"no!" you speak up indignantly, voice squeaky, "i'm just drunk!"

"you're more red than me!" momo joins in, trying to get a look at your face better with a laugh, her nose scrunching up in glee.

you whine, trying to pull away from her, but she doesn't let your hand go, so you end up pulling her along with you as you stomp forward, eager to get home and away from your teasing new friends.

sana laughs, running after you both.

that left nayeon, still on the floor in the middle of the street at 3am. "guys! hey guys! don't forget me! come back! hey- wait!"

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the four of you grow easily close after that night. and it helps that by chance, you're all allocated into the same dorm room for the new year. it's definitely a surprise since nayeon was one of the company's top trainees, and the rest of you were foreigners and had only been around for about 2 months. you'd heard it was meant to help the three of you get better at korean, having to converse in korean daily with a korean roommate so that existing friends like sana and momo couldn't get away with just talking in japanese when they were in the comfort of their dorms. plus, it seemed both sana and momo were making a name for themselves amongst the trainees as well for their bubbly idol personality and raw talent respectively.

"how's this?" nayeon comes out of the bathroom and does a little twirl, her hair already curled and makeup applied dazzlingly. she's wearing a pretty silk white dress with little blue bows decorating it, matching the blue ribbons she's used in her hair.

sana squeals, immediately bounding upwards and poking at her. "it's so cute! when did you get this?!"

"the last family trip i went on! are you sure it's okay?" nayeon pouts.

but then momo yells out from behind her, still doing her eyeliner in your shared bathroom mirror, "you look fine stop digging for compliments."

sana laughs cheerily when nayeon sputters back at her, latching onto the older girl and pecking her cheek, "it's okay nayeonnie i don't mind. i'll praise you anytime you want." there's a slight lilt to her voice, she finishes with a wink.

nayeon blushes immediately, but tries to cover for it by turning to you. "y/n? what do you think?"

you roll your eyes from your spot on sana's bed, more focused on applying the dark blue nail polish on your hands. "it's pretty."

"just pretty?" you can hear the pout in her voice.

you sigh exasperatedly, looking up at her in mock annoyance. "you're gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, exquisite, glamorous, everyone at the party will have their eyes on you."

you can hear momo fake gag from the bathroom, and sana bursting into giggles. but nayeon crosses her arms, frowning, "you see when you list it out like that it makes it a little harder to believe."

"ugh nayeon! you look good! what more do you want from me!"

she laughs, leaning down to squish your cheeks together affectionately, "thanks darling, i love my little thesaurus."

you grumble, careful not to get the drying nail polish onto sana's sheets. sana comes back to her position next to you, grabbing your hands and starting to blow on your fingers.

"what time does the party start again?" momo yells out from the bathroom, slipping into her outfit for the night.

"like... 10 minutes ago but it's fine. no one interesting is gonna get there on time." nayeon squeezes in next to you as well, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"that's because you're only interested in yourself."

"hey! i can revoke my invite to all of you!"

"you wanted us to go because you'd be, quote, bored out of your mind with all those mindless prepubescent boys trying to get in your pants! besides, we all got our own invites anyway."

"what?! why didn't you tell me?!"

"you were so cute thinking you were doing us all a solid or something for inviting us." sana speaks up with a giggle, "we couldn't break that!"

"you couldn't sana! i wanted to tell her and shove it up her proud ass but you just love to watch cute girls fumble around don't you?"

sana giggles again, going back to blowing on your nails.

but then momo steps out of the bathroom, clad in a very short bodycon dress, her makeup and hair fully done, the dress cutting open at her midriff showing off toned abs, pretty gold necklace decorating her neck, outlining her collarbones and the plunging neckline that pretty much ended at her belly button, tying together the cutout.

the three of you all stare at her, eyes roaming over the mass of skin, mouths open in... shock.

sana licks her lips slowly, eyes not bothering to meet her best friend's again, "you look... good."

momo smirks, imitating what's meant to be nayeon, "just good?"

nayeon bristles then, snapping out of her stupor, "shut up momo. don't you think you're... showing a bit too much skin?"

momo starts looking around for her shoes, bending over criminally with her back to you all, it's almost comedic how all three of your gazes lock onto her ass immediately. "this is nothing compared to some of the outfits they put us in when we do our showcases. besides, it's not like you can talk." she snorts, turning back around with heels in hand, her smirk never leaving her face as she watches the three of you, knowing exactly what you were doing.

"yeah but you'll... get cold."

"it's an indoor party."

"shut up!"

she laughs, standing back up after slipping into her shoes, "okay! ready to go?"

you gulp, standing up shakily, forcing you to look at her face and not ogle your friend's very attractive body. "y-yeah. took you all long enough."

"you finished practice earlier than us, you had more time to get ready. now let's go losers."

she leads the charge out your tiny shared room, nayeon gets up and follows grumpily. you look back down to sana who's still got her gaze locked on the way both girls' hips sway with each step. you roll your eyes, poking sana and dragging her up with a laugh. sana lets you, her brain short-circuiting, only able to be tugged along.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you honestly had no idea how a party of this scale went unnoticed by the company. there were so many trainees you recognised, and even a few idols that were lesser known to the public. it was at someone's house, you don't remember who's, but there was no way you could've gotten away with a party this size back at the dorms.

music was blasting, drinks were being circulated, people were dancing and grinding up against each other. it wasn't a surprise to see the amount of rowdiness going on, that's what happened when you force a bunch of teenagers to undergo strict training and diet regimes, and forbid anything that could get anyone into any sorts of controversies in the future in case you made it and got famous.

the four of you had naturally split up when you arrived, being pulled away by different friends and people wanting to greet you. you spot momo on the dance floor already, not that it was difficult to seperate her from everyone else. sure you were all trainees and went through mandatory dance class, but everyone knew momo was something else when it came to dance. she had an aura about her, one that made people back up and give her space, circling her on the crowded floor and watching in awe of her moves.

you can hear nayeon before you spot her. she's with jihyo and jeongyeon, two other trainees that she was set to debut with, and granted, was naturally close with. they were all top-notch trainees at the company, everyone knew of them, knew that the next group coming out of jyp would most likely include the three of them.

that left sana, someone people naturally gravitated towards. her adorable happy-go-lucky energy was infectious, it was impossible not to fall in love with her at first sight. she was currently surrounded by a crowd of people, laughing and smiling, face tinged with the pink of alcohol.

eventually, someone gets people together for a game of spin the bottle. you're all sitting in a big circle in a room away from the rest of the party, chattering excitedly with the buzz of liquors, an empty soju bottle laying in the middle of you all.

"okay party people! game time!" the original host of the party, jackson wang, saunters in with a charming grin, plopping himself down between mark and jeongyeon. "so i'm gonna assume we all know how spin the bottle works. and if you don't... well you'll find out! who wants to go first!"

everyone looks around at everyone, antsy, unwilling to go first. jackson rolls his eyes, "alright losers. guess it's me." he bends forward and spins the bottle. everyone watches with anticipation, breaths held.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, ryujin. she makes a face of disgust, cringing, but jackson ignores it, quickly swooping in and kissing her.

when they break away, ryujin quickly downs her cup of whatever concoction of alcohol she has, wiping at her lips and pushing him off of her playfully. jackson laughs, backing away and returning to his seat. ryujin goes forward, places her fingers on the bottle, then spins it.

again, you all wait in anticipation, eyes locked on the dizzying movement, until it slowly lands on bambam.

ryujin groans again, bambam looks like he just won the lottery. "nope! i'm not kissing one of you gross guys again, jackson tasted like he doesn't know what a toothbrush is. gimme a dare."

there are shouts of disapproval, but ryujin ignores them all, sitting on her haunches, unmoving.

"okay just because you made that totally untrue comment about my breath, i'll give you one worse than kissing bam." jackson looks around the room, thinking to himself, mark whispers something in his ear and they both snicker, "alright. suck someone's toes for 10 seconds."

"pfft is that meant to be a dare?" ryujin easily leans forward, pulling yeji's sock off and immediately wrapping her lips around her toe. yeji squeals, trying to pull her foot away but ryujin is persistent amongst everyone's hollering and cheering, counting down the seconds.

she finally breaks away with a laugh, making a show of licking her lips while yeji blushes, yelling at her and slapping her arm, shoving her drink into her hand and making her rinse out her mouth.

bambam shyly goes forward next, he spins the bottle, and it lands on nayeon. his eyebrows almost get lost in his hairline with how far up they go, his head shooting up and looking at nayeon who was leaning on jihyo heavily, still laughing at the whole ryujin-yeji situation.

his boys clap him on the back with a cheer, pushing him forward towards the older girl. nayeon blinks, turning her attention to him, realising he had spun her.

her eyes meet yours for a second, and then they flit around the room, landing on sana and momo respectively, it's so quick you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't already locked on her gaze.

bambam moves forward shyly, kneeling in front of her, unsure of what to do. she leans back a little as he comes closer, putting on an encouraging smile, looking up at him.

he takes a breath, then dives down, you can hear their teeth clacking as he accidentally goes in too aggressively, nayeon cringes, but tries to make up for it by tilting her head, pressing her lips against his, trying to urge him to slow down, but bambam moves almost too eagerly, like he's eating her up. in the end, nayeon has to gently push him off of her to get him to stop, he looks dazed as he collapses back in his spot, bright blush on his face all the way down to his neck. nayeon tries to look polite and laughs it off, moving forward and quickly spinning the bottle to move everyone along.

only for it land on momo.

"oh hell no." they both say simultaneously, blushing furiously and gaping at each other from across the circle. you catch sana's eye, supressing a laugh as you look between the two of them.

"dare! i pick dare!"

sana perks up, taking the opportunity immediately, "okay i dare you to kiss momo!"

the boys around the circle all laugh, agreeing with her energetically, starting up a chant. momo sends a death glare towards sana, who just sticks out her tongue at her, making an exaggerated kissy face mimicking momo and nayeon kissing.

with no choice, nayeon shuffles forward, crouching down in front of momo who can't look her in the eye.

"don't fall in love with me or anything hirai."

that gets momo to snort, meeting nayeon's equally nervous gaze, "as if i'll be able to think about anything other than getting rid of the taste of you-" she's cut off, nayeon leaning down to plant her lips on her in haste.

momo blinks at first in confusion, then she's closing her eyes and circling a hand around nayeon's neck, pulling her in just a little closer and returning the kiss. they ignore the roar of the crowd, nayeon thinks to herself how much better momo's lips felt against her own than bambam's teeth did.

that thought quickly rips her away though, scrambling backwards and wiping at her lips in mock disgust, laughing breathily with a pretty blush adorning her face.

momo looks on after her, her expression unreadable. after things settle down again, momo leans forward, spinning the bottle.

sana doesn't even give anyone the chance to think, sliding forward and into momo's lap, cupping her cheek and bringing their lips together. momo reacts automatically, hands circling sana's hips and slotting them together, like they've done this countless times in the past.

watching nayeon and momo kiss was silly, fun, but this, this was something different. you glance at nayeon, who has a hand at her lips, staring at sana and momo make out in front of everyone, eyebrows furrowed slightly. you look back, swearing you can see the hint of a pink tongue poke out from sana, momo's hands tightening around the other girl's hips in reaction, before sana finally breaks away. she stands up, sauntering back to her spot with a proud grin, people are cheering, throwing confetti, bowing down to her as if she just brought rain down in a drought. she thrives in the attention. momo on the other hand is breathing heavily, expression shielded behind her hair, biting her lip and clenching her thighs together.

sana does a round around the inside of the circle, giggling and skipping along in her little pink slip. she finally arrives back to her original spot, bending down and spinning the bottle.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, dahyun. sana smiles sweetly, crawling forward. she whispers a few words to dahyun, who nods shyly, breath picking up, then sana leans in, just pecking her before pulling away again. nothing like the kiss she shared with momo.

you decide you need a drink.

at this point in the night, the kitchen is thankfully much less chaotic. most people are playing the game, on the dance floor, or passed out around the house.

you spoon a ladle of the jungle juice that probably has ludicrous amounts of liquor in it into your cup, gulping it down thirstily. you don't know why you suddenly felt so stifled in that room, feeling hot even in the little cropped top and skirt you're wearing.

"y/n?"

you turn, of course it's your three roommates, all looking very concerned for you.

"hey. you okay?" sana comes up to you first, cupping your cheeks, placing the back of her hand on the front of your forehead.

you wave her off with a chuckle, "yeah i'm fine guys. why did you leave the game?"

"because you left." momo says simply, taking the cup you're still holding in your hand away from you, sniffing the contents.

"you didn't have to do that. i was just taking a water break."

"riiiight. water." momo raises an eyebrow unimpressively, pouring the rest of your drink down the sink nearby.

"i'm fine though seriously! you guys should get back to the game."

"you're not coming?" sana pouts.

"not really feeling it anymore."

"do you wanna go home?" nayeon speaks up then, coming forward to lean on sana's back, her face resting on sana's shoulder, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"what? no! you guys have fun. seriously, stop worrying about me i'm fine!"

"we can't have fun without you."

"i'm sure you can."

"no. we're not the four of us without you. we're just... the three of us." sana tilts her head like a confused puppy, her proximity to you making you dizzy, you're not sure if it's the alcohol, or the fact that she was so close, but you can only focus on her lips, which then remind you of the way her lips had been on momo's lips, that had been on nayeon's lips. yeah you were definitely a little more than dizzy.

"wooahh- too much to drink i think." momo sidles up next to you, catching your waist, and holding you up against her. she jokes, "didn't think you'd be the same kinda drunk as nayeon y/n. i don't know if we have enough personnel to take care of the both of you."

you groan, pushing yourself back onto your own two feet, leaning back against the kitchen bench, "don't compare me to that trainwreck."

"hey!"

you all laugh, sana's hands coming down to squeeze nayeon's that are around her waist, turning to peck her cheek.

"i'm getting tired anyway. let's go home."

"what? guys no- you don't have to do this for me- you can stay-"

"we're not doing this for you idiot. i wanna sleep too. i'm gonna be grumpy tomorrow morning if we don't get enough sleep and i have dance practice with jyp."

"you're always grumpy in the mornings momoring."

"no i'm not!"

"yes you are." nayeon quips.

"shut up or i'll kiss you again im."

that makes everyone pause, processing the words in their head. momo doesn't even seem to realise what she's said, staring fiercely back at nayeon, only focused on winning their little bouts of banter.

you all stand in the kitchen in awkward silence, looking nervously at each other, unsure of what to say.

eventually sana speaks up, laughing edgily. "are y/n and i interrupting something orr...?"

"what?! no?!" they both speak up, protesting loudly.

you laugh, trying to ease the tension that seems to have come out of nowhere. "i could've said that about you and momo sana. that was some kiss." that was probably not the right thing to say to ease the tension.

"that's nothing. sana and i kiss all the time." momo brushes you off, shrugging, but sana looks hurt at the her words.

"nothing?"

"wait what do you mean all the time?"

momo blushes, looking between sana and nayeon. but sana's easily emotional feelings, amplified by her intoxication, have her eyes watering, sending momo straight into panic mode. "wait no- that's not what i meant satang-"

"then what did you mean?" sana frowns, you weren't sure if she was genuinely angry now or still playing around.

"i don't- satang i'm stupid we know this i just say stupid shit- things just come out of my mouth i didn't mean it like that-"

"then in what way did you mean it momoring?" her tone is clipped, throat scratchy.

"satang this isn't fair-"

"what isn't?"

"c'mon- satang please-"

all of a sudden, sana lurches forward, pressing her lips against momo's, trapping her against the kitchen counter. nayeon falls onto you without sana holding her up, you quickly grab her waist, supporting her, but both your eyes move back to sana and momo quickly.

they're kissing for real this time, not like when they were putting on a show for everyone else during the game. and you're both close enough you can hear the wet smacks of lips against lips, the little gasps and whimpers, every breath they take in between each kiss. momo's hands have come up to tangle in sana's hair, pulling her closer, their bodies meeting and moving against each other like they were made for each other.

you squirm slightly under nayeon, hands gripping her waist tighter at the sight, the dizzy feeling from earlier returning full force. you try and force yourself to focus on something else, it was probably a bit weird, to be so close, staring as your two closest friends made out, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away, your gaze lidded at the rushed pace, tongues clashing and being sucked into mouths.

you can tell nayeon is feeling very similarly, her hot breath hitting your lips at a faster pace than normal, laboured with excitement.

there's a crashing sound from upstairs where they were playing the game, followed by loud whooping and cheering. it pops the bubble that's formed between the four of you. sana breaks away from momo, panting, hands having come in to hold onto the other girl's hips, pushing her into the bench further having squeezed their bodies together as close as possible.

"w-was that- nothing?" her voice comes out hoarse and in a whisper, still catching her breath.

momo can't speak, her eyes still tightly shut, shaking her head in response.

"then what was it?"

momo groans, knocking her forehead against sana's gently, "don't ask me that sana." her voice is also laced with shaky breaths.

"why not?"

"it's confusing. you know i can't handle thinking about that much."

"am i confusing?"

she shakes her head again, but then points to you and nayeon, drawing a circle between the four of you, "this is confusing."

that gives sana pause, thinking over the possible implications of momo's words, taking the chance to catch her breath. then she looks up to the both of you, her eyes dragging up from the way you're still clutching nayeon's waist tightly, before meeting yours. the eye contact sends shivers down your spine, even when her eyes leave yours to stare into nayeon's, you can still feel all your senses on alert, breath held, tensions at an all time high.

sana's head tilts again, considering the both of you. then, she seems to come to a decision, and she's just as quick as she always is.

before you realise it, her lips are on yours, hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around nayeon to keep her there.

it's nothing like that first kiss you shared weeks ago. that was a simple peck, there and gone. this time, sana's moving her lips against yours, fingers caressing your cheek, down to your neck, lips soft and wet, panting directly into your mouth.

momo forces her eyes open, staring at you and sana kiss with hooded eyes. hands coming back down to grip the bench behind her, knuckles almost turning white from how hard she was holding onto it.

sana breaks away from you, but without taking a breath, turns her head, and starts kissing nayeon.

nayeon is only slightly surprised, almost all her weight leaning on you, gripping the back of your top tightly, reciprocating sana's kiss with as much vigor as sana gives.

when they finally break apart, you're all still breathing heavily, looking between each other, tension surmounting, thousands of words unsaid.

it's nayeon that speaks up first this time. she whistles lowly, letting out a small chuckle, "so... that wasn't... nothing."

"no." momo agrees. their eyes meet.

sana rolls her eyes, getting impatient, "so do you two wanna fuck or do you wanna fight?"

neither of them protest this time, they don't even laugh it off, you can all feel the very real pressure in the air.

"dunno. i think i need a..." momo licks her lips, "another taste to know." then she leans forward, capturing nayeon's lips with her own, straight up moaning at the contact. your thighs clench together at the sound. all of this was getting too much for your dumb little drunk brain. you had been spectating more than you had been involved, and it'd be a lie if you said you weren't turned on by it all.

nayeon and momo's kiss is different from sana's kisses. they're both aggressive, fighting for dominance, their natural banter translated onto their lips, grunts and gasps, trying to one-up each other.

eventually, they break away, but momo transitions straight over to you.

"need to compare." she mumbles lowly before attaching her lips to yours. she's much more gentle with you, teasing your mouth open before dipping her tongue inside, you whine against her, hips moving of their own accord when they grind up into nayeon who's still leaning on you for support.

you hear nayeon swear under her breath, regaining some of her drunk-addled consciousness to grip your hips roughly to stop you from doing that again. but that's the end of her control, she leans in, close enough so momo and you can both hear her, just inches away from your mouths moving against each other.

"my turn."

momo obliges, breaking away from you, only for nayeon to latch on. you can still hear momo's rough breathing next to your ear while your lips start moving against nayeon's, once again, with a completely different kissing style to momo and sana. she's slow and languid, pressed against your lips until you're just about to be out of breath, before breaking away and coming back in. she finishes with a little kitten lick on your upper lip, you whine, pushing your hips against her hands as she growls, pushing you back into the counter.

sana's spent the entire time watching all of you, having enough time to even pour herself another much needed drink. she swirls around the contents of her cup, downing it and speaking up again. "home?"

"home." you all unanimously agree.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you wake up hazily with a pounding headache, vision blurred, mouth dry.

you squeeze your eyes shut again, the dim brightness of the room too much for you. you reach blindly for your glasses that should be next to your pillow on the top bunk of the bunk bed you share with sana. instead, your palm comes colliding with something that most definitely was not your glasses.

your eyes shoot open, squinting and trying to focus, as the person you've hit groans.

"10 more minutes."

"...momo?"

momo groans again, burying her face into the pillow you're sharing, hair messily coming to cover her eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

suddenly, memories of last night come flying back to you. you look down alarmingly, lifting the blanket slightly to find yourself very naked, with an equally naked momo curled around you, arm thrown lazily over your side, legs intertwined.

you also realise that this was not your bed. you were on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed opposite the one you shared with sana, this was nayeon's bed. now even more confused, you slowly turn your body, trying your best to not disturb momo who mumbles something while you shuffle around the bed, before pulling you closer into her.

the sudden feeling of her chest now pressed against your bare back surprises you, even though you knew you were both naked. you try your best to not think about it, squinting to look around the room for where nayeon could be if you were in her bed.

you didn't have to look far though, cuddled up on sana's bed right opposite you, is sana and nayeon. and you'd bet they were in the same state of undress you and momo were.

your heart rate picks up as you recall the events of last night. you hadn't exactly done a lot of talking. as soon as you got home, you were all over each other, somehow, you had made the limited space, and the fact that not all four of you could fit on one little bunk bed work for all of you. your thighs tingle with the memory, a blush adorning your face.

eventually, it's sana that wakes up first, turning in her bed and blinking at you slowly.

you let her come to her senses, your eyes drifting down to where the blanket has fallen in her movement, breath catching at the sight of her pretty naked chest moving up and down slowly with each breath.

sana doesn't mind the attention, she never has, she yawns, stretching unabashedly, revealing more of herself, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to her waist. "morning." she grumbles out, her voice scratchy and deep with fatigue.

you gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from her, "morning."

nayeon whines as sana moves, slowly waking up as well, her arm curled around sana's thighs, trying to keep her still.

sana reaches around and pulls an oversized shirt on, patting her hair down. you're not sure if you're thankful or mournful she's covered up.

"what time is it?" nayeon's voice speaks up, laced with the same hoarse tiredness you're sure you all have right now.

sana picks up her phone on the bedside table next to her bed, you're not sure where yours is. "6."

"too early. come back to bed."

sana giggles then, putting her phone back down and running a hand through nayeon's hair. "don't you have a schedule to get to later?"

"yeah later."

"... we should talk anyway." she's strangely serious, normally the most energetic of you all, even in the mornings. it gets nayeon to look up, hair messy, squinting, placing her chin on sana's thigh.

sana smiles at the sight, you find nayeon's glasses next to her bed, reaching to hand it over.

sana murmurs her thanks, stretching out to grab it from you and gently placing it over the eldest's eyes. she looks adorable.

"how long have you been awake?" nayeon directs the question to you, finally able to see you were awake and looking at the two of them.

you smile, "not that long."

"is momo...?"

"still asleep."

"should we wake her?"

"she's not gonna like that."

"she needs to get up in a bit anyway. she has practice with jyp later remember?"

in agreement, you turn in your spot again, smiling at the sight of momo, mouth hanging open slightly, black hair framing her face. hesitantly, you nudge her shoulder. there's no response, so you nudge her again, a little harder. she groans, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers, "10 more minutes."

you giggle, "you said that 10 minutes ago."

she mumbles incoherently, drifting back into sleep.

you roll your eyes, nudging her again, except she doesn't respond. so you resort to different measures, your other hand that isn't being held captive by her, sneaks down between the two of you, and you start tickling her sides.

she squirms, blinking, waking up, whiny and giggly.

"s-stop- stop y/n- stop- i'm up i'm up!"

there's laughter from behind you as well, and momo sits up, pushing your hands away to stop you from your attack. not that she needed to, you're eyes focused on something else as soon as the covers left her body. but of course, she bumps her head on the bunk, yelping, and cradling the top of her head, her hangover only worsening.

"okay okay guys- before we talk- i'm gonna need all of you to put on some clothes." you speak up, eyes still staring at momo's chest, almost drooling over her.

momo raises an eyebrow, before she shoves her chest into your face, rolling on top of you and squishing you.

"wha- momo- hey! no- mmf-"

you can hear everyone laughing as momo gets her revenge, pulling on the back of your neck while pushing out her chest, squeezing your face in between her breasts.

she finally breaks away once she's had enough, grinning and plucking a shirt down from her bunk on the top bed, pulling it loosely over her body.

"there. better?" she's kneeling on top of you, legs on both sides of your torso, shirt just long enough to reach past her top thighs. you gulp, eyes trained on the skin of her legs. momo rolls her eyes, pulling her shirt down a little more, coughing to get your attention.

your eyes snap back up to her with a blush.

she grins, leaning down easily and pecking you, rolling off of you again with one leg still thrown over your legs and cuddling into your side.

"morning losers."

"you're inconceivable momo."

"where'd you learn that word from? my ass?"

nayeon blushes, digging into sana's thighs. "throw me a shirt you little gremlin."

"get it yourself."

"you're on my bed!"

momo blinks, looking down at herself, finally coming to realise her surroundings. "oh."

sana laughs, pulls a shirt from under her bed and hands it to nayeon, "just borrow one of mine for now."

"sana i just got one for her!"

"give it to y/n."

"you just wanted to see her in your clothes."

"so?"

momo grumbles, handing the shirt she had grabbed for nayeon to you, helping you pull it on, hand skimming over the skin of your side and stomach.

“so…” you cough awkwardly, squirming under momo’s fingers that have stayed beneath your shirt, drawing random shapes into your skin.

“wait why do we need to talk?” she speaks up, leaning on her elbow, face on her palm looking across the room.

sana laughs, “is it simple for you now momoring?”

“is what simple?”

“i love your brain you idiot.”

“huh?” momo looks as confused as ever, too early to be thinking about anything.

sana takes a breath, gripping nayeon’s hand, “i like you. all of you.”

momo blinks, “we like you too.”

“i don’t want to kiss mina the way i kiss you momoring.”

“oh.” momo looks at sana, thinking, “but don’t you kiss everyone?”

sana laughs again, “is that what you think of me?”

she shrugs, “we kiss all the time.” she quickly corrects herself, not wanting to make the same mistake as last night, “and it doesn’t mean nothing. i’m sorry for saying that last night.”

the younger smiles, appreciates the effort, “you’re right. i kiss you all the time. no one else. i think you just get too dazed to notice anything else after we kiss.”

nayeon snorts, laughing loudly.

“what about dahyun last night?” you speak up, recalling the whispered words sana said to the younger trainee.

“we were playing spin the bottle. nayeonnie doesn’t like bambam even though she kissed him right?”

nayeon’s laughs turn into coughs very quickly, “absolutely the fuck not.”

“i was just making sure dahyunnie was okay with me kissing her, i told her it’d be really quick and i wouldn’t kiss her like i did momo. you don’t have to be jealous y/n.” she teases.

you whine, “i wasn’t!! i was just curious…”

“wait… is that why you left the game early last night?”

you feel your cheeks heat up, refusing to acknowledge the question.

“y/n!”

“what!”

“you should’ve told us! or me.”

“no way. i didn't even know what i was feeling. i just needed to get some air."

"will you tell us next time?"

"next time what?"

"next time you feel anything. even if you don't know what the feeling is."

you smile, pulling momo's hand that was creeping dangerously higher out from under your shirt, and interlocking your fingers, "yes. i will. i like you all too."

"blegh."

you and sana both look at nayeon with a frown.

"what?" she asks simply, crunching her nose up.

"nerd." sana pushes nayeon off her thigh, rolling her eyes.

"i'm not good with feelings!"

"get better with them then because i'm not dating an emotionless narcissist."

nayeon perks up, ignoring the insult, "we're dating?"

sana blushes, "i don't know. do you guys want to?"

"i do." you offer sana a reassuring smile, she's been leading the conversation this whole time and it took a lot of courage to do that. "momo, nayeon?"

"i don't think anything changes between us. except we all get to kiss and have sex whenever we want right?"

"momo!" you slap her hand lightly, she snickers.

"yeah. i'm pretty happy with that."

you all turn your gazes to nayeon.

she rolls her eyes, "as long as i get to top momo."

"just try it!"

"i will!"

you spend the rest of the morning, laughing, cuddling, doing things you'd always do together, but now with more freedom and less confusion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

sometimes, you wish you had a different dream. a lot of the time really.

it hasn't been a good week. monthly trainee evaluations were coming up, and everyone could feel the pressure. there were rumours running around that jyp was preparing a survival show to debut the next girl group, and he was in the midst of picking trainees to participate, so everyone was on edge more than ever.

the one who had it the worst was momo.

you wince, curling in on yourself, knees to your chest, head resting on your knees, while you listen to your girlfriend dry heave in the bathroom.

nayeon's pacing around the room, obviously agitated, wishing she could do something to help. sana was in practice, you knew how hard she was working recently, she didn't need to worry about anything more right now.

"-stupid fucking trainers. they're all fucking blind she doesn't need to lose weight. they're gonna fucking kill her fuck-"

the bathroom door creaks open. both you and nayeon's heads snap towards it immediately.

nayeon rushes forward, holding momo up, caressing her cheek, brushing hair out of her face.

momo looks pale as a ghost. she's trembling, exhausted, you can barely stand to look at her without breaking down in tears. she knows. she knows how you all felt about her. so even when she's suffering the most, she still manages to crack a joke, "you care about me now im?"

"shut up momo. this isn't the time for that. you should lie down."

momo groans weakly, "can't. need to go to the gym."

nayeon explodes then, "what?! you are not going to the fucking gym right now momo. look at yourself! you're dying!"

"you still think i'm hot though right?" she grins. it has none of her usual sparkle, no mischief, just white teeth and lips.

"shut up or i'll kill you before you kill yourself."

the younger girl shrugs, you can see her bones with the movement.

"don't go to the gym. you already haven't eaten anything for the last five days. you haven't even drunk water for the last five days."

"yeah and i've still got 2 and a half kilos to lose."

"you don't- you shouldn't have to do that! you're skinny enough! you're going to die before you lose that weight!"

momo takes a shaky breath, you're surprised when a tear escapes her eye. even the fact that her body still has enough water to cry, and her not being the type of person to cry much in the first place, especially in front of other people, is shocking enough. she can't hold herself up any longer, collapsing onto the bed next to you. you open your arms immediately, lowering your legs, adjusting so she can lean all her weight on you. the feeling of her body against yours is terrifying. she's all bones. you can feel each rib, every pointy bone in her joints.

"i know. i'm so scared of dying." she whispers out eventually, still crying silently.

nayeon squeezes in as well, holding one of momo's hands, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it softly.

"i don't want to sleep. i'm terrified i won't wake up again. that i won't be able to see you guys again."

there are tears streaming down yours and nayeon's faces as well now.

"then eat. please darling. you need to eat." nayeon begs, wiping at her eyes furiously.

momo looks up at her weakly, smiling even now, "you know i can't. you'd both be doing the same thing if you were in my position right now."

you hold back choked sobs, burying your face into her neck. she can feel the tears staining it.

"it's okay. i'm gonna be okay. we're all going to be okay." her hand finds yours, squeezes both your hand and nayeon's.

"it's not fair. you're pretty much the same weight as me. why are they making you do this?"

she shrugs again, her sharp shoulders dig into your chest, "maybe they're testing me."

"for what?" nayeon says incredulously.

"dunno. if i have the willpower. if i'm ready to die for my dream. who knows."

"it's not willpower. it's fucking starvation. you're not even- you're all muscle. there's nothing to lose. the number on that scale is only higher because muscle is heavier than fat. and you wouldn't have all that muscle if you weren't the best dancer in this fucking company."

"you think i'm the best dancer?"

nayeon sighs frustratedly, "i know you are. darling... please. please just- some water- anything-"

"i can't. i'm sorry."

you've been talking in circles for days. the same thing, over and over again, begging her to eat, drink some water, rest. she's persistent though, hasn't broken once. when she first told you all the news, you were aghast, angry, but not surprised. you all thought you knew what it meant to lose 7 kilograms in a week, it was terrible, but it wouldn't be impossible. they wouldn't set you an impossible task. there has always been importance placed on your weight in this industry. they weighed you every morning before classes, tracked your progress, what you ate, how often you worked out, made sure you were kept consistently underweight, just how the public liked you. if they said momo needed to lose 7 kilograms to be attractive, to get a chance to debut, then she needed to lose 7 kilograms.

it wasn't until around the third day that you realised just what that meant though.

she collapsed in dance class. it wasn't an out of the ordinary experience, they put all of you on the edge of malnutrition, so there were always girls fainting left and right. but it was the first time for momo. and unlike the other girls who were instructed to eat better, momo was encouraged to keep doing what she was doing. because it was working, she was losing a kilogram everyday, more than that at the time because all her water weight was gone first.

so she came home that night proud that she had collapsed. they'd brainwashed her.

and so she kept on going. when all the trainees were off enjoying lunch, she had two fingers down her throat in the company bathrooms. when everyone retired to go home for the night and rest, she'd be running 10 miles an hour on the treadmill at the gym. naturally, her body started shutting down. she was losing too much weight too quickly, she wasn't getting the nutrients she needed to function as a human being, her body was in a state of panic, it was retaining as much weight as it could, it thought momo was in trouble, that it needed to protect her from all of these sudden changes, so it's natural she stopped losing weight at such a fast rate.

she didn't care if it was natural. all that mattered was that that number on the scale was 7 kilograms less than it was when she was first told to lose the weight.

on the outside, you could see how much it was affecting her, not just physically, but mentally as well. you were so confused what to do, you wanted to support her, and as a trainee who had the same dream as her, you understood why she was doing what she was doing, but you also didn't want her to die. you wanted your momo back, the one that smiled and laughed and played around with sana, secretly loving how affectionate sana was despite her outwardly 'cool girl' persona. you wanted the momo that teased and fought with nayeon, the only one that could bring nayeon back down to earth when she was getting too much in her head. you wanted the momo that kissed and pulled you into her whenever you shared a bed, that clung to you in the morning when you had to get up, whiny and pouty and sleepy. she was a shell of herself now. they had ripped the life out of one of your favourite people on the planet.

the door to your dorm clicks open softly.

you're all still cuddled up on the bed, squeezed against one another.

sana walks in, a tired smile on her face. it immediately disappears once she sees the tear streaks on all of your faces.

she rushes forward, cupping momo's cheeks, checking her pulse.

"i'm alive satang don't worry."

"did you eat?"

"you know i haven't."

sana's the most emotional of you all. just seeing her favourite people crying has her own tears welling up.

"oh satang not you too-"

"i can't help it. look at you momoring. why didn't you guys tell me?" she directs that to you and nayeon, frowning.

"you were at practice. we didn't want you to worry."

"momo is more important than practice."

"no satang. monthly evaluations are in two days. you're gonna make that lineup."

"i don't care if i make it if you die momo!"

"stop it. all this talk about- i'm not going to die guys. i'm fine, don't give up on me yet. i'm still here. if you all think i'm not going to make it then how am i supposed to think i'm going to make it?"

"that's not fair momo." you speak up, still cuddled into her neck. "this isn't- this isn't a daily worry. we live in the fucking twenty first century it's not normal to worry about whether or not you're going to live to see tomorrow."

"please momoring. here-" sana starts scrambling around in her bag, pulling out a thermos. "just one please-" she shakes out an ice cube, holds it out to momo in her palm.

momo stares at it, watches it melt, her mouth open, lips dry.

"please it's just one-"

"i-i... i can't-"

sana sobs, head falling into her elbow, crouched on the floor.

nayeon gently takes the ice cube from her, holds it in her palm, watching momo's gaze follow it.

"momo..."

"don't make me nayeon. please. i can't."

"i'm not. i won't." nayeon makes sure momo is still watching her, then she slowly takes the ice cube into her own mouth. she sucks on it, her cheeks hollowing out, melts it in her mouth slowly. when she's done, she opens her mouth, showing she's swallowed it all, then she asks, "do i look different?"

momo looks at her confused, "no?"

"if i went on that scale, how much do you think my weight will change?"

momo gets it, her face darkening again, "don't do this nayeon."

"just answer the question."

"...it probably wouldn't."

"right. look, here, y/n, have one." she reaches for sana's thermos, you hold out your hand, accepting the cold cube, then you pop it in your mouth, burying yourself back to your position in her neck, kissing the skin there gently with your cool lips.

she sighs on top of you.

nayeon's shaking another one out, popping it in her mouth, then she's giving one to sana who has her hand out, staring at momo with wide, hopeful eyes.

momo looks between the three of you, you all had so much love for her, you all just wanted the best for her. it was one ice cube. her body was screaming for it.

slowly, she holds her palm out.

you all stare at her with bated breath, almost in disbelief.

she smiles, "i've probably cried out enough for an ice cube right?"

sana lets out a broken laugh, nayeon's quick to shake out an ice cube into momo's palm.

momo stares down at it, brings it up to her mouth, takes a breath, then encloses her lips around it.

she sighs again, closing her eyes, reveling in the coolness of it, leaning back against you more.

you let her, leaning back fully until you're laid on the bed, spooning her. nayeon comes in behind you, squeezing herself against the wall, an arm coming up to rest on your midriff, her hand able to reach momo's side. sana clambers up as well, kissing momo's forehead and sniffling, looping an arm around her waist and snuggling in. after you had started dating you ended up pushing the two bunk beds in your room together so you could all share the bottom bunk, and so you could use the top bunks for storage space. it was still a little bit of a squeeze but the four of you didn't mind. you liked being as close as you all possibly could.

momo couldn't shake the thought that the ice cube melting down her throat would add on another kilogram or two, but she tried to focus on the feeling of her loved ones curled around her instead, falling into a restless sleep, praying she would be able to wake up and feel like this again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you grip your fork tightly, stabbing into your bland salad.

sana sits next to you, just as stiff, staring daggers across the cafeteria.

momo doesn't seem to mind though. she's happily munching away at her leaves. your heart softens a little at the sight, remembering how far she pushed herself last month, at least she was eating better now.

but then nayeon's laugh breaks through again, loud and bright. your jaw tightens at the sound.

"that's it." sana goes to stand but you tug on her hand, pulling her back down.

"don't."

"why not?" she spits, you've never seen her so livid. she was the happy charm of the company, people forget she could feel other emotions too.

"you'll cause a scene."

"good. then maybe he'll get his fucking baby hands off her."

"we can't. everyone will wonder why."

"why what?" she's still seething.

"why you have an issue with them. at worst they’ll think there’s something going on between you and nayeon. at best they’ll think you have a crush on him."

sana blanches, flicking her gaze over to you, “what?!”

“i don’t like it either. but we just have to trust her right?” you offer a smile, it’s a bit wonky and forced and sana sees straight through it, but it does get her to calm down a bit, taking a breath and slumping down in her seat.

“fine.”

“she loves you.”

“whatever.”

you smile genuinely at momo who looks at you in confusion, her mouth still full of lettuce. you shake your head, gesturing for her to keep eating and not to worry.

it’s not until later in the day when you have combined level dance practice that the issue comes up again. normally, he wouldn’t be near your class, sana and momo were naturally gifted dancers, so they were in higher level classes, and nayeon was an all-rounder, she was always in every top class to ensure she was around other people her level.

“they’d be cute wouldn’t they?” jihyo makes light conversation while you’re all stretching.

jeongyeon scoffs, “are you serious? he’s like… a baby.”

“he won’t be for that much longer.”

“gross dude!”

jihyo laughs.

“who are you guys talking about?” momo moves towards your group, mina in tow behind her.

“bambam and nayeon.”

“oh.” she drops down in a stretch, “what about them?”

jeongyeon snickers, teasing momo, “of course you didn’t know you airhead. bambam has a crush on her.”

“really?”

“yeah. did you see him almost wet himself when he got her during spin the bottle at jackson’s party?”

“it was so funny! and then when he went in to kiss her, that was so awkward! poor kid, i almost felt bad for him.”

“i don’t.” sana speaks up then, her teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed, not even bothering to hide her gaze, staring at bambam and nayeon playing around in the mirror.

jihyo and jeongyeon exchange glances, confused.

“uhh… you okay sana?”

her eyes snap back up to meet jeongyeon’s, “yeah. fine, why?”

“you just seem a little… edgy.”

sana huffs, standing up again, “just tired.” she doesn’t say anything else, turning on her heel and leaving the training room.

momo catches your eye, tilts her head in question.

you shake your head, speaking up, “i’ll check on her.”

you jog outside, finding her near the water fountain.

“hey.”

“if you’re gonna lecture me again i don’t want to hear it.”

“no i wasn’t- i didn’t mean to lecture you at lunch. i just wanted to check on you.”

she sighs, sinking down into the cushion next to the fountain. you carefully sit next to her.

“i’m sorry. i just- i do trust her i just- i don’t trust him.”

“he’s just a kid sweetie.”

she scoffs, “yeah a hormonal pubescent teenage boy. they’re soo innocent, not like they don’t watch porn and jack off to every woman who even breathes near them.”

you’re about to reply when the door to the dance studio opens again, it’s nayeon.

she pokes her head out, looks up and down the hallway, and spots you, grinning. she jogs down to the both of you.

“hey! what are you guys doing here? class is about to start!”

sana doesn’t bother meeting her gaze, “oh so now you care about us?”

nayeon frowns, looks at you in confusion, you feel incredibly awkward, avoiding her eyes as well, “what’s going on?”

“nothing. go back to your boyfriend.”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about sana. c’mon, let’s go to practice.”

“you don’t? is it that natural for you to drape yourself all over him?”

“what?”

sana finally looks up, eyes red and angry, “bambam. you know he likes you. why do you entertain him?”

“what? sana he’s just a kid-“

sana stands then, throwing her hands up in frustration, you keep your gaze locked on your shoes, “a kid! i’m sick of hearing that! so what if he’s a fucking kid? we’re fucking kids. you all think it’s so impossible that the im nayeon would ever like someone like him so it shouldn’t be anything to worry about right?! you know what sounds more impossible?! that im nayeon is in a polyamorous relationship with three other girls. three other kids!”

“sana! calm down don’t be so loud-“

“no don’t you tell me to fucking calm down. you see? we have to hide this. us. we can’t even talk about us in public. i was okay with that! because i still had you all. you were all worth it! but you could get with bambam right now and people wouldn’t even bat an eye. they’d celebrate it, congratulate him for pulling the girl, all while we can’t even hold hands in public without people looking at us weird!”

“but i- i don’t want to be with him! i want to be with all of you!”

“then don’t fucking laugh at his jokes, touch his biceps, compliment his fucking hair!”

“but- honey that’s all harmless-“

“you still don’t get it! you-"

the door opens once again, and this time it's momo's head that pops out. she frowns when she sees all of you, walking up, tilting her head in question.

sana huffs, "whatever. i'm not feeling like practice today. tell the instructors i'm sick please."

"wait sana-"

she turns on her heel and struts briskly away.

nayeon sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair, "what is going on with her?" she mutters to herself.

you frown, the events of the day culminating, you wish nayeon could see where you were coming from, "she told you. i think it was pretty obvious." you didn't mean to sound so clipped, your tone just slipped out that way.

nayeon looks down at you, you were never one to talk back, you'd kept more of your emotions to yourself. "are you angry with me too then?"

"that's not it nayeon. look i don't want to fight. let's just go to practice."

you stand up, brushing past her, unable to look her in the eye. you can hear momo questioning nayeon behind you before you open the door to the practice room again, thinking over sana's words that left a heavy feeling in your stomach.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

after practice, you and momo go and grab dinner while nayeon has to go to another vocal lesson.

momo's still blissfully unaware, talking about how the dance practice was and how much fun she had in such a big class with everybody. you listen to her ramble with a smile, not wanting to burst her bubble.

it's unavoidable when you go home later that night and find nayeon alone in your dorm, freshly showered and typing away at her phone.

momo skips in first, kissing nayeon and grabbing some clothes to shower into, heading into the bathroom right after.

nayeon looks at you then, putting her phone down, "hey."

"hi." you shrug off your bag, taking off your shoes.

"where's sana?"

"i thought she'd be home by now."

she frowns, "i haven't seen her since..."

you bite your lip, growing slightly concerned, "should we call her?"

"i don't know if she would pick up for me..."

"right..." you take out your phone, scrolling to sana's contact and pressing dial. it rings for a little, and just before you're about to give up, she picks up, giggly and breathy.

"y/n!! i miss you! what's up!"

you squint, there was a lot of background noise, "sana where are you?"

"out! i'm having fun!"

"where?"

"i don't really know but i'll be home soon! i promise! i love you!" she blows a kiss through the phone and then she hangs up.

you stare down at her contact picture, it was of her and a hamster plushie momo had won for her when you had gone on a date to the carnival. you had all agreed it looked like her and she had hated it because she thought you were saying her chubby cheeks were the resemblance point.

"is she okay?" nayeon speaks up again, barefaced with her thick glasses on.

"i think so. she sounded... she said she'd be home soon."

"oh."

"yeah."

it's oddly quiet, awkward. you start shuffling out of your day clothes, picking out pyjamas for your turn to shower after momo.

"are we okay?" nayeon breaks the silence suddenly, eyes seemingly even bigger behind her glasses. she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

you sigh, moving around the small room to clean up a little, if only to give your hands something to do, so you had an excuse not to look at her. "i don't know. i think sana's less okay than me."

"but you're still... not okay?"

"i feel silly. momo doesn't even feel anything about it. i wish i was the same. i know you'd never cheat on us or whatever, i just- it's still hard y'know? watching you be like that with him. like- you wouldn't want to see me all over another guy right?"

"but he doesn't mean anything to me. he's just- he's like my little brother."

"i know that's why i feel silly. i know realistically you'd never leave us for him. but it still hurts sometimes- like- like you're dangling the fact that you can in front of our faces."

she's quiet for a bit. you risk it to sneak a glance at her. she has her eyebrows furrowed, thinking.

you sigh again, moving forward and standing next to the bed. you place your hand on her head, then start running your fingers through her hair.

"i'm sorry. i don't want to be- i'm not trying to be clingy or jealous or whatever i just can't help it. i- i- i love you."

she looks up at you, surprised. your hands move down to cup her cheeks, smoothing out the skin, there.

you lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, breathing softly, closing your eyes, appreciating her presence. then, you move the extra inch to press your lips together, just slowly, softly, only for a second or two.

when you break away, she doesn't let you go, holding onto your wrist and tugging you down gently, asking you to hug her. and you oblige. kneeling on the bed, letting her wrap her arms around you, and place another kiss on the crown of your head.

"i love you too. i'm sorry i didn't- i wasn't aware of how it looked on the outside. i never- because he doesn't mean anything to me like that, i didn't think anything of it. i didn't realise you guys may have taken it differently. thank you for telling me."

you peck the side of her hand that's right next to your face, holding yours. "it's because you're a T isn't it?" you joke.

she chuckles behind you, "yeah and all my girlfriends are Fs. emotional losers."

"repressed freak."

she rolls her eyes, brings you in closer, "i love you."

"you said that already."

"i wanted you to know again."

"looks like our F is rubbing off on you."

she whines, "are you not going to say it back?"

you smile, "i love you too."

when momo comes out of her shower, she curls into bed immediately with you all, tired from her day and wanting no more than to sleep with her girlfriends. she hopes you've all made up and the fighting can stop tomorrow.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"did she come home last night?"

"it doesn't look like it."

"fuck she's not picking up her phone either."

"where could she be?"

"what are we going to tell the company?"

"she can't just have gone missing right?"

you're all stressing, nayeon's pacing around the room like she does when she's agitated, momo's trying to call sana's cell, and you're checking her socials and her friends to see if anyone knows where she is.

"what did she say when you called her again yesterday?"

"that she'd come home soon. there was a lot of background noise though, she said she didn't know where she was."

"you don't think she's in trouble right?"

"i don't know..."

"fuck! i never should've fought with her yesterday!"

"don't- no nayeon this isn't your fault at all don't blame yourself. we're going to find her." you step up, halting her pacing, grabbing her hands and squeezing.

she sighs, gritting her teeth, "fine. c'mon. let's go to class, we're late. maybe someone there has seen her.”

before she moves to leave, you cup her cheek, turning her back to you and kiss her in reassurance. she offers a smile when you break away, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

momo keeps trying sana's phone while you walk to the company building. by now, you were all relatively well known in the company, and the tension could be felt by newer trainees, they cleared the way as you walked past, not wanting to get caught up in anything.

you push open the door to the dance studio hurriedly, not in the mood for another scolding from the trainers.

but you freeze, spotting sana on the floor, stretching and getting ready.

"y/n? what's wrong?" momo tries peeking over your shoulder to see why you've stopped, and then she spots her as well.

"satang!"

sana looks up, there are obvious bags under her eyes, she's sluggish in her movements. momo pushes past you, dumping her bag down and rushing over.

"where were you?! we've been calling you all morning!"

sana squints, backing away from momo who was speaking too loud for her, "phone died."

"we were worried satang! why didn't you come home last night?" she says the last part in a whisper, not wanting to get sana in trouble with the watchful trainers.

you and nayeon have both entered now as well, nayeon stands behind you a little awkwardly, unsure of how to approach.

"i was out." sana says simply.

"but where?"

"doesn't matter. i'm here now right?"

"sana we were really worried." you speak up now, crouching down into a stretch.

she looks at you, her eyes are lifeless. "and now there's nothing to be worried about. i'm fine."

"what happened to you last night? you said you'd come home and then you didn't. where did you sleep? did you sleep? you look terrible."

she cringes, "gee thanks."

"you know i didn't mean it like that. what aren't you telling us?"

at that moment, bambam chooses to come over and greet you all.

"morning nayeon!"

nayeon is still focused on sana, frowning, but she greets him offhandedly anyway, "morning bam."

"what? no morning for us bambam?" sana speaks up with a teasing smile, it's anything but harmless.

"o-oh! sorry. good morning sana, momo, y/n." he bows to each of you.

"i get it. it's your crush on nayeonnie isn't it? she's so pretty right? and born to be an idol. i can see why you like her."

bambam sputters, completely unprepared, blushing bright red.

sana's smile is sinister.

"sana stop."

she looks at you innocently, blinking, "stop what? i'm not doing anything."

"sana!" behind you, mark suddenly appears, clapping bambam on the back. "last night was fun. you should invite your roomies next time! i'm sure bam would appreciate that wouldn't he?" mark elbows bambam with a snicker.

"oh i'm sure he would. i don't know though, i kinda liked it when it was just us y'know?" she sports a smirk, the one she uses when she wants sex.

mark blushes, muttering something and then dragging bambam away.

"what the fuck sana?" nayeon finally speaks up, glowering.

"what?" she blinks up.

"you were out with mark last night?"

"so what if i was?"

"we were fucking worried."

"and i told you i'm fine now. there was no reason to worry."

"we thought something bad could've happened."

"yeah well obviously nothing did right!? i don't get why you guys are so pressed. i just had a little fun, i needed it, and it was good for me."

"you mean he was good for you?"

"better for me than you were."

nayeon falters at that, hurt flashing across her face, "i'm sorry."

"what for?"

"i didn't listen to you yesterday."

sana shrugs, "it's fine. i get why you like it. i tried it. it's the attention right? it's nice to know someone else is in love with you."

"that's not- that's not what i was doing sana-"

"then what were you doing? you're with us right? so why are you flirting with other people? worried we won't last? backup options? attention?"

"sana- please- can we talk about this i don't-"

"we are talking about this."

"not here. alone."

"you ashamed of me?"

"no! sana what-"

"mark can hold my hand in public. he can kiss me in public. he can call me his."

nayeon clenches her fist, "does he?"

sana shrugs again, not bothering to answer, moving into another stretch. you can't believe her, what you're hearing, you've never seen her like this. never thought she could be like this. momo looks to be in shock too, sitting on her haunches, staring at sana with hurt written all over her face. sana ignores you all.

class starts.

you keep sana in the corner of your eye. she fools around with mark, teasing him, playfighting with him, and ignores the three of you completely. you try and understand where she's coming from, why she was purposely trying to hurt you. she just told you she loved you last night, this wasn't real. she was just doing this as her own personal form of revenge. she didn't mean any of this.

you had to keep telling yourself that.

as class ends, sana looks like she’s about to go out with mark again, but you quickly run out the door, tugging on her arm, “can we talk?”

her eyes soften when she realises it’s you, but she still looks unsure.

that is, until momo links her arm with yours, pleading with sana as well.

“alright.”

you quickly lead her into one of the empty recording studios, gesturing for nayeon to come follow before sana can change her mind. as soon as you’re all inside, you stand against the door, blocking any routes of escape.

sana scoffs when she sees nayeon enter the room as well, but with you in the way, there’s nowhere to run.

“what did you want to talk about?” her tone is cutting, she rubs in between her eyebrows, pushing out the tension there.

“you.”

“what about me?”

“how could you do that to us satang?”

sana sighs, glancing at momo, “you notice now momoring? how come you didn’t have an issue when it was nayeon?”

“w-what?”

“you knew bambam liked nayeon. why didn’t you have a problem when nayeon was hanging all over him?”

nayeon tries to protest but momo replies quickly, wide-eyed, “what do you mean? nayeon doesn’t like bambam though.”

“and i don’t like mark. so what’s the difference?”

“you went after him.” you interject.

“no i didn’t.”

“then how did you end up hanging out with him last night?”

“he saw me crying outside the company. he offered to listen and then to distract me afterwards. i had fun. he didn’t make me cry.”

“sana…” nayeon’s lower lip is wobbly.

“what?”

“…i’m sorry. for not listening to you. i should’ve given you a chance to explain yourself and understand where you were coming from.”

sana’s quiet for a bit, staring at nayeon, turning the words over in her head slowly. and then her own lip starts wobbling, throat constricting, tears welling up.

nayeon panics, “fuck- no i didn’t want to make you cry i didn’t- i’m sorry i made you cry the first time i didn’t- i’m sorry-“ she desperately wants to comfort her but she’s not sure if she can, still in an awkward sort of limbo.

sana closes it though, almost leaping into nayeon’s arms, burrowing her face into her neck and breathing out shakily, sniffling.

“…i’m sorry too. i knew what i was doing- i was being petty and stupid and jealous and i hurt all of you doing that.” she whispers into nayeon’s neck, but it’s quiet enough in the room that you can all hear her.

you breathe a sigh of relief, internal turmoil calmed for the moment. you walk forwards, wrapping your arms around the both of them, feeling momo do so as well on the other side.

“i don’t like him. i didn’t kiss or hold hands or do whatever else i said in there. i just- it really didn’t bother me before. that we had to keep this to ourselves. but then seeing nayeonnie with bambam acting so carefree and- and- everything, i just wished i could grab her and kiss her in front of him, so that everyone knew you were all mine, and that i’m all yours.”

“one day we’ll be able to sana. i promise. and i won’t- i’m not going to act like i’m not already spoken for anymore. i am all yours and i always will be.”

sana sniffles again, you’re close enough you can lean over nayeon’s shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“and i’m sorry for making you guys worry. my phone really did die though if that’s any solace.” she chuckles wetly.

“i have a portable!” momo quickly breaks away, running to her bag and pulling it out, handing it to sana with a proud smile.

sana returns it, thanking her and kissing her cheek, plugging in her phone.

“you were wrong about one thing you know.” nayeon speaks up again, the hint of a smile on her face.

sana stiffens, ready to argue again but not wanting to.

“korea is so homophobic that we can actually hold hands in public without people thinking we’re anything. we could probably get away with kissing on a few rare occasions too and people would still think we’re just really good friends. especially if we’re all kissing each other, they’ll just think we’re… all very friendly with each other and kiss as a sign of affection or something.”

sana laughs out loud, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, “you’re right. i don’t necessarily have to hide how affectionate i am with you all.”

“and you’re very affectionate satang.”

sana rolls her eyes, hitting momo lightly. but then, her phone lights up, and she seems to read over something. she takes a few seconds, and then she’s blinking up, fresh tears in her eyes, launching forward into nayeon’s arms again.

nayeon grunts, catching her and squeezing back, “i take it you saw my message.”

“mmsorry- i lov- too.” her voice is muffled, but it’s obvious what she’s saying.

you don’t know what nayeon’s text said, and sana refuses to share with you afterwards, saying “nayeonnie’s words are for me only, tell her to do it again for you.” knowing nayeon hates expressing too much, which makes it all the more special to sana, but you’re just happy everything is okay between the four of you again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

there was something going on and everyone knew it. the rumoured survival show for a new debut group was apparently set to start filming soon. select trainees were being pulled out of practice and given the news, although they were instructed not to say anything about it in order to not cause discouragement amongst other trainees and to minimise media leakage.

your girlfriends had all been called up and informed that they would be participating. now you were all waiting in anticipation for your own name to be called out.

after the monthly trainee showcase, JYP himself comes to make the announcement.

"i'm sure you've all heard the rumours going around about the new group we're planning to debut. it's going to be televised nationally in a reality-type fashion, so even if you don't make it to the final lineup, making it onto the show itself will be a big deal already, getting your name out there for potential future plans. the name of this show will be..." he pauses for effect, "sixteen!"

there's thundering applause, but you can barely hear it, anticipating, praying he would be announcing the lineup and that your name would be there.

"it's sixteen for the chosen sixteen exemplary trainees that the staff have recognised and recommended. they will be competing for seven spots in this new group. all sixteen trainees have now been notified of their involvement, but if you haven't received any news, don't worry! i always have all of you in my mind, like god, your time will come! so please cheer on and support your fellow trainees in their journeys!"

did you hear that right? everyone chosen had been notified already? so you weren't chosen? you weren't good enough? all that training... all those hours slaving away... all those tears, doubts, connections you've lost, all for what?

you look around, other people are cheering, some are crying, some are in disbelief like you.

your feet move before you can think, pushing to the front of the crowd, grabbing JYP.

"sir- why- why didn't i make it?" you're desperate, huffing, on the verge of breakdown.

he looks you up and down, a frown appearing on his usually smiley face, "what was your name again?"

your heart sinks. he didn't even know your name.

and then a look of realisation comes across him, "oh! you're that girl that's always with nayeon, momo, and sana! you should be happy for them! they're all fantastic trainees, they'll make wonderful idols."

you blink, dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"b-but- i- what was it? was i not a good enough singer? dancer? am i not pretty enough?" you're grasping for straws, anything to help you cling on to the possibility of your dream.

he tilts his head, crossing his arms, "ah- you... perhaps it's because you're always with those three. you just don't... stand out. nayeon has natural star power, her voice is one of the strongest in the company. momo is the best dancer we have, probably one of the best dancers in your generation. and sana has a personality people gravitate towards, she can keep group morale up and maintain public image. let me ask you.. what do you have? because aside from being friends with genuinely talented people, you just seem... average."

your hand falls, head drooping, the words hitting you hard.

"don't take this too personal though! perhaps with them out of the way, you can really find your own light to shine now! i believe in you!" he smiles again, then he's off with a flourish, being guided away by busy assistants.

you stare after him in shock, a flashback of sorts playing through your head, of the hardships you've been through to get to this point, of the tears and sweat you've dripped, it was too much. you needed out.

again, your feet move before you have control over them. mind moving at miles a minute, body on autopilot.

you're back in you're dorm room before you know it, and then your suitcase is being pulled off the top bunk, laid on the floor, and you're stumbling around throwing things in haphazardly. you don't even register when the door opens and three sets of footsteps tread in, too focused on thinking about how to get out, whether you could get to the airport in time, what you would say to your parents, your family, the people standing at the door in surprise, watching you clumsily shove things into your suitcase.

"...y/n? what are you doing?"

you barely look at them to reply, voice light and distracted, "packing."

"where are you going?"

"home."

"what?"

you head into the bathroom, starting to pick off the things you needed, you could leave some things, not everything was going to fit anyway and some things you could throw away.

"y/n wait- stop- just wait-"

you ignore them, clattering makeup items falling out of order into toiletry bags.

"y/n!" it's nayeon, her hands gripping your wrists firmly, not too firm to hurt, but enough to get you to stop. you finally look up at them, the break allows you to really feel your emotions, tears welling up immediately.

"oh sweetheart." nayeon tugs you into a hug, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. you feel sana and momo surround you, placing their arms around you as well. the dams break open then, and you're sobbing into their arms, all of your emotions finally catching up.

you stay there for a few minutes, just crying it out, the girls hushing and soothing you, letting you babble nonsense and cry into their shoulders.

when you finally calm down, you're exhausted, slumping down into nayeon. she supports you immediately, and tries to peek at you from your position in her neck, but you refuse to look at her, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head.

"do you... still want to leave?"

you take a breath, unsure. "i don't know." you whisper honestly, "what do i have to do here if i stay?"

"you have us." sana says quietly.

you chuckle wetly, "you don't get it. you guys all made it. i'm never going to. i don't- i'm happy for you all i am but- my dream-"

"shhh- it's okay. we... we do get it my love. we were all on this journey together weren't we? we've all had thoughts we wouldn't make it. even nayeon." momo tries to lighten the mood a little.

"but- you've all made it now. i don't even- why would you still want to be with me? i'm not good enough. you all got through. i'm the only one who didn't. doesn't that- don't you think i'm just pathetic? how could you still like me?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! we don't like you for your talent we're not some talent recruiters. we like you because you're you, you're sweet and funny and caring. i know it's hard because we're in this industry so it feels like we're all competing, but you can't- it's not like that for us. don't ever doubt our love for you again."

you sob quietly, emotions still a wreck.

"please don't leave. this doesn't mean anything. there will be other opportunities. your dream is still possible. we might not be able to debut all together like we always wanted to but- but you still have a chance y/n. don't give up on it."

you sigh, too tired to argue, letting them bring you to bed, giving you one of the coveted middle spoon spots and cuddling into you until you fell into a restless sleep.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the next few weeks are absolutely hectic. for your girlfriends. you spent most of your time moping around, giving only about 50% in all your classes, motivation completely shot. it didn't help that the three of them started spending a lot more time together, as is expected when they have to prepare filming for the same thing. often you'd find yourself coming home after a long day of practice, and find them giggling and laughing about things you have no idea about, sharing inside jokes and talking about things that happened during their day that you'd be too tired or jealous to ask about.

they tried to include you of course, but you couldn't bring yourself to join in.

internally, you felt terrible. you knew you should be proud, happy, enthusiastic that all three of them were in the process of having their dreams come true. they had worked harder than all of you, they certainly deserved this opportunity, and they deserved you to be in their corner, supporting them and loving them like any other partner would do in this situation.

but you couldn't do it. jyp's words continue to ping around your head like an endless pinball machine. how you had always been in their shadow, how he never saw your worth because of them. a small, petty part of you blamed them. you hated that part of yourself, tried to squash it down as much as you could. but sometimes when you're laid in between them at night, their light breaths deep in sleep, those thoughts come back, and you can't help but be envious of their position, wondering why them and not you.

naturally, you started drifting from them, especially when filming actually started.

they were moved out to different dorms during the filming, split into major and minor dorms so that the film crew could get some reality content. they still texted you often though, asking how your day was every night, they still made every effort to make it work. it was you who really started moving away when they were no longer physically there to remind you they loved you.

you'd cry most nights. cuddling into sheets that smelled like them, watching episodes of sixteen, wishing you were there with them. you missed them.

and then momo gets eliminated.

it's brutal. you're confused when she shuffles into your dorm room, hood over her head, dark circles under her eyes, still red from crying.

you had no idea what happened, the episode hadn't aired yet.

but your heart breaks seeing your girlfriend. you immediately squeeze her in your arms, she bursts into tears again, sobbing, clinging to you, unable to make any words.

she tells you later when you're curled up in bed, what happened and how she got eliminated. when she drifts off to bed, you stare at her sleeping face, now devoid of tears, she looked peaceful. and those sick thoughts come back.

you felt grateful she was eliminated. she was brought down to your level again. she was just another trainee now. it was terrible, but you had her again, you weren't going to lose her. you should've felt angry, sad, disappointed her dreams were just ripped away from her after getting so close. but you felt relieved instead. what a terrible person you were.

soon enough, it's the finals.

momo's dyed her hair a light blonde colour and cut bangs. you went with her and helped her pick it out the day after she came home. she needed a fresh start, needed to forget the pain it felt to be back at square 1.

now you stood with her in the crowd with the other eliminated trainees. you nod at them politely, but you have your hand tightly gripped with momo's anxiously looking up at the stage waiting for your other two girlfriends to appear. you hadn't seen them in months and you'd missed them.

momo had talked your ear off about everything that happened while she was on the show. updated you on everything. it felt nice, to be included again, to feel needed, wanted.

and momo wasn't shy about how supportive she was of nayeon and sana. constantly bringing them up during the day, wondering how they were doing, if they'd eaten yet, if they were getting enough sleep, hoping they weren't thinking about her getting eliminated too much, praying they'll both make the final group.

you agreed with her each time, but she made you feel like a terrible girlfriend. she was what you were meant to be when she was still on the show. you try and make up for it in the last few weeks, making signs and pasting pictures of nayeon and sana on posters, making some for both you and momo to bring to the finals. she grins and kisses you on the head when she sees them, saying how sweet you were, how considerate you were. you smile guiltily, knowing that was far from the truth.

finally, the lineup starts to be announced.

you spot sana on the majors side already, nayeon still on the minors side. you have your fingers crossed, anxiously watching, momo's hand is white from how hard she's gripping yours, just as anxious.

nayeon's name is announced first.

momo bursts into tears, smiling, crying. she's so proud. you are too. she made it. you always knew she would. im nayeon was born to be a star.

and then, after the first seven are confirmed, sana's spot also secured, jyp makes the surprise announcement. it was going to be a nine member group. he announces tzuyu first, as the fan favourite.

and then, momo's name is read out.

momo is in shock at first, but trainees around you start clapping her on the back, congratulating her, and she starts sobbing again, covering her face as the camera pans to her. you quickly let go of her hand, not wanting to arouse any suspicions. she tries and looks at you but she's pushed up on stage before she knows it.

you can see nayeon and sana in the back, crying, in shock as well.

you can't even listen to momo's speech.

you feel like you're the only person in the entire venue again. it was quiet. you were alone. again.

your feet start to move on autopilot again. dissociating.

you manage to slip through the crowd, back turned, not realising the girls were searching the crowd, looking for you. wanting to share one of the most important parts of their lives with you. you were too selfish to let them.

you're at the dorms again, the suitcase is out, already half-packed from the last time you'd thought about doing this. this time though, they wouldn't be able to stop you. there'd be an afterparty, you were sure, they'll probably expect to see you there, they won't. then they'll come home, worried, and find all your things gone. the only remnant of your existence, a letter placed carefully on the bed.

dear nayeon, momo, sana,

firstly, congratulations. if anyone deserved those spots, it was you three. you've all worked so hard to get here, and i'm so proud of you all. your dreams are coming true. everything you've ever thought was out of reach, is about to become reality. you deserve all the fame, money, love, everything, and i know it's going to come your way, because i fell for you too.

i'm sorry. i'm not who you thought i was. i'm not a good person. and you deserve to be with good people. i'm leaving. for good this time. i'm sorry that i chose tonight to do this, when you three should be on top of the world, in a way, it's my own sort of revenge i guess. selfishly making you feel a little of what i've felt the last few months. it's why i can't be with you anymore. i'll only bring you down more. i loved you all. i didn't want to start hating you for being better than me, i wanted to keep the memories of our love pure and joyful. if i stayed, i'd grow to despise you for having what i've wanted for all my life. i didn't want that. i'm a terrible person, i could never ask for your forgiveness, only that you forget about me. forget me and continue living your lives under the spotlight, don't let me drag you back into the shadows. don't try and find me.

i'm sorry.

when they try and call you, you'll be on the flight home, your phone unable to receive any of their messages. you throw away your phone as soon as you arrive, buying a new one and starting your new life.

they barely have time to chase after you. you'd be grateful for that. they're thrown straight into schedules and planning for their debut.

eventually, you become a distant memory for them, as they do for you.

when you're older, you'll find a box you sealed away, filled with pictures of the four of you, young and in love. you'll sit there, thumbing through them, crying, wondering how you could possibly have let them go. you'll think back to your actions, appalled at the person you were, hating the industry for pitting you against them, and then realising it was your fault the entire time. you were young, stupid, greedy, you thought your dream mattered more to you than the girls did. now that you’re older, you realise you were so wrong. the girls were your dream.

you'll buy a ticket for their concert while they’re on tour, and you'll quietly cry to yourself again, seeing them in person, grown up, smiling, singing, doing what they loved in front of crowds of people who loved them as much as they loved you all those years ago. you'll think about making yourself known to them, but you'd hurt them enough. they seemed happy now, you had no place intruding on that anymore.

you were just another stranger now. you have been for years. and you had no one to blame but yourself.

#namosa #samoyeon #twice x reader #nayeon x reader #momo x reader #sana x reader #twice nayeon x reader #twice momo x reader #twice sana x reader #sana #momo #nayeon #minatozaki sana #hirai momo #im nayeon #twice sana #twice momo #twice nayeon #dovveri

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midnightstar-kpopsmut · 17 days

Text

Chapter III, Stick it

- I stayed there for a couple of seconds – said Cheongtae -. I didn’t really know what to do after Karina bluntly asked for my help. Maybe it’s not even that, not knowing what to do. Sometimes I am just moody. You know that from the outside I can look like a tall, muscular, confident guy, but I don’t need much to be thrown off guard. I don’t have that kind of fast smart like reaction that other guys have. So a few seconds of that can be quite uncomfortable for me. You know what I mean. I actually think I have many repressed thoughts, like why would I be uncomfortable, like ever? It’s not like I have a knife to my throat if someone says something strange to me, so there must be many memories and fears that arise to me in those kind of moments, or in this moment with Karina.

- He is just stupid – added Jimmy to the recollection of events -, but I didn’t want to say that to him or it would have took him two weeks to finish his story. So I just said in Korean “I feel you, keep going.”, which is very difficult to learn and I can’t teach you now, and he kept going.

I follow Karina on the sofa zone, she is leading me. I told you how the middle of the room is strangely down elevated, you gotta take one or maybe two steps down. That makes me notice that she is barefoot, I had took some slippers at the entrance, but she hasn’t any, not even socks. Barefoot. Not that I care, because I am not into feet, I don’t understand what’s the point of that. I am waiting for someone to explain it to me. Anyway. We get to the middle of all the sofas, I am waiting for us to sit, but instead she turns and faces me. She is distressed. Just a touch, but she is so pretty, so it is easy to notice. She looks at me straight into the eyes and says: - Can you... hide them?

“Hide them? Hide what?” I think. O right, her breasts. That’s what we were talking about just before. - How would I hide them? - I say.

- Can’t we do some shape that would draw the attention away from them?

I shake my head slightly. You can’t draw attention away from tits that just gained two sizes and are stretching out of closely fitted clothes.

She sees that I am not convinced. - Do I need longer extensions? - I look at her and say: - Don’t you have already some on? - No! - she quietly screams by protruding her lips – Those are mine. Who are you confusing me with?!

Like I told you I had not seen her for a few months. I get why she scolds me, I didn’t took it personal, she was looking out for competition. Idols can be so possessive of their look and team.

- The only thing that could hide them, I mean draw attention away, is maybe a bob cut. But I don’t think we can go for that without consulting the rest of your team. Especially Hansuk, I need her approval. - Hansuk is the head of the visual branch of Aespa, added Cheongtae to Jimmy, she coordinates make-up, hair and clothes. Not married, sharp, you should meet her. Jimmy wasn’t interested. So he kept pressing Cheongtae to hear the rest of the story.

- I am NOT getting a bob cut. That is horrid. What is that? The idiots that think they can get away with a bob cut in our industry... Shameful. - She took a step toward me. - Try something else.

I evaluate my options. She has indeed call me for something complex, as I had imagine. At least she doesn’t seem to want to get a real cut right now, just get a feeling of what we can do.

- Shouldn’t we go in another room? - I say -. One with a mirror... A chair?

- Why? - says Karina, concerned – Here it’s ok. You can sit. It’s very comfortable.

She gently sits down on the main sofa, tries to calm herself. I put myself on her right, what else can I do?

- Oppa, you look at us everyday. You see that this is a big... change.

She puts her hands on the air around her tits and moves them, to further highlight what she is talking about.

- Why did you do it if you don’t like them? - I add.

- Oh but I do like them – she replies -, I always wanted them big.

I nod, then realize I am nodding as a reflex, and dare to ask -... Why? Why do you like them?

She gets aggressive: - I don’t know. I feel like guys like them big... Don’t you?

- Sure. - I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t say it is breast is what I think about first, but still. Big can be nice.

She keeps going: - But my fans... They can be so... limited. I am famous for being savage, powerful. Not cheap.

- I know – I say. She was right. Kpop groups go out with a very defined look in mind. It’s difficult to break out from it, even with different concepts, it is not something you should usually aim for.

She rapidly flutters her eyelashes at me and says: - Do I look... cheap?

- No, you don’t. - I promptly answer. She was as classy and expensive as always. There was just something in her crop top, the fluffy texture, that gave her more of “that kind” of look. And it arguably made her breast look even bigger. As if you had to touch them. A devilish loop. But there was no point to underline that, she would have changed her outfit completely for the comeback.

- I am Karina – she says -, not some stupid whore... - She takes her phone out of her pocket and says: - Let me show you.

She gets on youtube and starts typing and swiping, looking for a specific video. She finally finds it and turns it to me.

- Here, her. - She says while starting the video.

The video is a performance of Kiss of Life on Mnet, dating of the 24th of July. - Stick it. - I say.

Karina pauses the video and gives me a tap on my left leg: - It’s Sticky. Not Stick it. You are such a dog...- She presses play again.

I don’t know Kiss of Life much, but in this performance one of the fourth members was giving much more then the others, in my opinion. She is boldest, more defined and you could say just more... vulgar.

- You are looking at Natty, right? - Says Karina.

- I don’t know their names. – I reply.

- The one with the big tits.

- She has quite a character.

The video goes on, on the refrain you can hear “Sticky, Sticky, Sticky”, the four members all slam their asses, then squat, then rise up and bend forward while turning their head to the camera. But Natty improves on the choreography by keeping her mouth fully open while she shakes her ass. The camera clearly favors her.

Karina stops the video exactly at that point, with Natty wide open in front of my face.

I try to say something: - See, she has a bob cut – she indeed had one -. You look at her face more than her... body.

Karina’s face looks disgusted. - She is such a whore. She will never get it. Kpop is not just about making guys hard.

I agreed. While looking at Natty spreading her legs, looking down, opening her mouth... I am surely not focusing on the song.

Karina notices it: - Even you! Look at you! You are looking at her open mouth.

I try to bring back the discussion to our common interest, her own look: - You don’t need to do that. We can use a big bandana for you. The attention will stay on your face and you will look fierce.

- I am so pissed – says Karina -, you heard that I had to stop see my guy, right? While this slut does this on stage.

I remember that Karina was dating a hot Korean actor that she had met in Milan for some fashion event, she was then spotted in Seoul by paparazzi and had to apologize publicly. I had heard rumors that she was still seeing him, though.

Karina continues: - If I get ANY hate for my boobs... I swear, I’ll kill someone.

She starts swiping again on her phone.

- This was the maximum I was allowed to do on stage.

The new video is a snippet from a performance of Next Level, one of Aespa biggest songs. Karina press play.

In the video, while the aggressive rhythm fills the venue, the four Aespa members bends forward, and Karina gently hits Winter’s ass with her hand,

On her living room Karina follows the video and hums: - Next level wa... - she taps my leg again, while the clip plays for a second time.

Then I don’t know if it is because we are not having a lot of sex with my wife, you often told me I should fuck her more, since she is pretty and all, but you know how it is with her, or because I am tensed with the whole idea of having to do an urgent work for Karina, plus the videos of course... Well, I start to stiffen in my pants.

The second play-through of the video ends, but Karina’s hand stays on my left leg. I can’t really brush her off, that wouldn’t be polite.

- Oppa – she says-, do you think I should get rid of this savage style? Be like Natty, just go... all in?

- You should do whatever you like. - I say, like an idiot.

- Oh, really... - She replies with a tone.

Karina slightly moves her fingers on my inner, left, tight. My dick is slowly and luckily growing to the right. My pants are large, so it stays barely perceptible.

She keeps adding – Maybe if I change my stile once and for all they will let me date. I kind of miss him. He is very, very horny. - She looks in my eyes to see how I react. Then looks at herself and says: - He is always looking at my big tits...

And there it is. At that point I get tired of this whole bullshit. This calling me on the middle of the afternoon to work on her hair, the long list of complaints, the talking to me about her boyfriend... I can’t take it anymore and jump on her.

I grab her small head and enormous mass of hair with my hand and throw my head at her lips. I am not that aggressive usually, but she had really annoyed me. So...

She can barely breath through the kiss, I don’t let her. She aggressively taps my leg with her hand, so I relax the kiss and grab her tits in response.

- Oppa!! - she says like a surprised kid – What are you doing?

Obviously I don’t stop. She is just acting up.

- This is not very professional... Even Jae doesn’t go this fast...

Right, Jae-wook. That’s the name of her actor boyfriend.

I grab Karina’s hand and move it to my now hard dick. She starts to squeeze it through the pants.

- Why are you in such a rush – says Karina-, I thought you needed more time...

- More time for what? - I ask, even though I hopes for her to shut up.

- To cheat on your pretty wife... - she says.

- Oh, fuck off. - I stand up and raise her light body with a finger. Then bend her to the head of the sofa and start pushing against her ass. We are still both clothed.

- I thought you liked my face, all those time you looked at me at your shop... Guess I was wrong!

I remove her cargo pants and underwear in a single movement. Then my own pants.

She is wet enough, and I am not in the mood to waste more time to make it comfortable for her. I grab my dick and push it in.

Now that I am fucking her, she has finally stopped talking. She gracefully arch her back to me, you can see that all the Kpop training is paying off. I should not be doing this, but then again who cares, I am not the first of the team that has fucked one of the idols, as you know this is more common than people can imagine. Their job is hard, and we all need to relax.

She slightly pushes her body against me. Her hips, previously enhanced by the cargo pants, are quite fragile. I grab them with my hands and slam her in response. She squeak.

Feeling my rhythm settling Karina pushes me harder, she wants more of the slams, but I am not ready to give it to her. To make her point she flaunts her thick, dark and long hair. I look at them, they are quite imposing. I have trimmed and reshaped those hair to perfection dozen of times. Watching them moving from behind is quite a spectacle. I stiffen. Karina groans and pushes. It is like fucking a lion. I get even harder.

- Oppa – she says-, you are so big...

I am surely bigger than normal. And I am quite proud of it. - Not only for a Korean – adds Jimmy -, he is bigger than a western guy as well.

I push my fully hardened dick inside her and say: - Isn’t it too big? My wife says it hurts her sometimes...

- Oppa... Your wife doesn’t like your huge dick? - She says while turning her head to me. - How is that possible, I like it so much... - her cunt contracts.

- She says she hits her at the end and it hurts. - I add.

- Then it’s not really cheating... - Karina says, closing her eyes – She can keep your bored, sloppy dick...

She touches my right hand on her waist and adds: - I’ll take the huge horse cock of yours... It goes so well with my big tits...

I instantly bend forward and grab her new big breasts through her soft crop top. I bury my head into her cascade of dark hair. My dick is now swelling in pain. The rhythm through which I slam it inside Karina rapidly intensifies.

- Oppa... You are going too fast... - she says.

I don’t answer and cover her mouth with one of the hands.

She frees herself from it and says: - Be careful... you don’t want to make me pregnant.

- What? - I ask while leaving her tits and putting myself straight up again – You don’t take the pill?

- I don’t take anything! - she says, while still pushing her ass and body against me. - Those shit are not good for your skin. But keep going... Tell me when you are almost there...

We keep pushing for a few more seconds, at that point I am almost done, who wouldn’t and I let her know.

- Wait for me... - says Karina. She pushes me out of her, puts herself on her knees in front of the sofa and grabs my dick with her two hands. - You can finish on my face.

I am almost there. She looks at me with her big, dreamy eyes and says: - Oppa, do you like my... - but then I explode into her face. Which at least makes both her eyes and mouth close shut. She keeps stroking my dick in silence. Her face is covered with my full built up of load.

There is one main river of sperm, the thickest one, that goes through her lips. A second, smaller one, deviates left on her cheek. Multiple other droplets constellate the rest of her face, which she has masterfully bended back to avoid staining her eyes.

Karina keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the sperm on her face.

While looking at her I realize that, even through my numerous sexual encounters, I had never seen something so beautiful. It must have been the makeup, or the hair, or whatever else. Strangely enough, I had never had sex with an idol before.

Karina’s face looks like a painting.

That’s when I reach for my pants, specifically for the phone in my pocket. Karina thinks that I want to go and complains cutely. I give a pump of blood to my dick, so that it will look good on the picture. Karina feels it getting bigger into her hands and smile, still with her eyes closed. Resting like a diligent worker on her break.

I take the picture, put my phone away, and rise my pants.

She opens her eyes and throw herself into the couch.

- I should go – I say. Then I notice her horny look on her face and add: – Did you come?

- No, sorry – she says -. I think I need something more. To come, I mean.

- Yes, I get it. - I answer. What else could I have said? I didn’t have anything more than that to give. And it was also getting pretty late. Girls very often cannot get excited by sex alone, they need feelings, something like that. I said to myself that it must be the same for Karina.

I act with care and help her clean her face with a napkin. I am her employee after all. She doesn’t want me or her to go to the toilet to wash up though, strange.

Instead she grabs a soda from her fridge and rushes me off the apartment. Out in the hot city of Seoul.

- That is how Cheongtae told me he got this picture. - Said Jimmy. The American looked at him, wanting to know more.

- What did you say was your name, again? - Added Jimmy.

- Steven – said the American, that we can now call by his name -, my name is Steven, but you can call me Steve.

Jimmy waited for Steve’s question, which arrived after a few seconds: - Can I talk with Cheongtae? I’d really want to know more about his work in Kpop, it would help me for my job here as well.

- Well, that would be nice – said Jimmy -, very nice. Problem is Cheongtae told me this story one week ago, it had just happened, and I can’t get in contact with him since then.

- What do you mean, you can’t get in contact? - Asked Steven.

- What I mean is, that Cheongtae has disappeared. We are quite close. But I don’t know where he is.

At that Steven didn’t had an immediate follow up question. So we will have to wait and see for the next chapter to know more about his own train of thoughts.

#fanfic #karina #kpop smut #kpopsmut #kpop

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zriasstuff · 7 months

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The real thing- Theodore Nott x reader

Short, fluffy drabble

Theo dislikes you reading romcoms lol (tbh I wrote this in like 30 minutes out of boredom :’))

After everyone had left your dorm, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you thought to yourself. Unfortunately, due to the terribly cold weather, you had caught a cold. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but enough of a reason to not attend a class.

It turned out to be a blessing in disguise even. Now you could curl up in your warm bed, enjoy a hot cup of tea, listen to some relaxing music- and most important of all, read your favorite books.

Today's read was “the Spanish love deception”. Although reading and understanding classic literature was amongst your passions, cheesy rom com books still hit differently. Besides, since you were sick, you didn’t feel like thinking too hard.

Having read halfway through the book, you have to internally laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was so utterly ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?”, you suddenly recognize an all too familiar voice. You move your head up, and break into a smile upon seeing your boyfriend standing at the door.

“Feeling better?”, he asks gently.

Even if you weren’t, simply seeing him already brightened your day by so much. When you first started getting to know each other, seeing him always made you nervous and fidgety. Now, every time you saw him, there was nothing but warmth and intimacy.

“Yeah, I am”, you reply. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Why would I be in class when I could be next to you?”, he answered naturally, hopping right into bed with you. Immediately, he starts telling you about how boring his day was without you, while lightly caressing your hair. You look deep into his glistening brown eyes, realizing yet again how lucky you were to simply have him next to you.

While he’s talking, his eyes glance towards your lap, where your book was lying. Theo, seeming highly intrigued, picks it up and starts checking it out by flipping through some pages. Feeling happy that he has taken an interest, you start telling him what it’s about. Perhaps you could read it with him.

“Basically, there are these two people that work together and they hate each other. But, in reality the guy doesn’t hate the woman. Quite the opposite actually. Ugh- and he’s sooo sweet, does all these things for her, protects-

“Soo, you enjoy reading about perfect fictional men?”, he interrupts you mid speech. Theo didn’t sound so sweet now, rather a little doubtful.

“Well, it’s fun”, you admit. “It’s not the best literature ever, but a girl can imagine right?”, you say hoping for some form of agreement.

“Why imagine when you can have the real thing?”, he says insistently, which makes you chuckle. So that’s why he was a little off, he was jealous of a fictional man? Theo was of course just as perfect, and even better- he was real.

You take the book from him and put it on your night stand. “Theo, don’t take it that seriously, you shouldn’t care about what I read”, you say. Still, you couldn’t believe that his reaction was…well how he reacted.

“I don’t care, I just don’t understand why you would read about something like that, if you weren’t trying to tell me something…”

Hell, why was he being so difficult about this? You didn’t imagine that one could read into this so much. But, you had the perfect response for him.

Not letting him say anything else, you cuddle yourself into his arms and give him a small peck on his burning cheek. It was your way of telling him to stop worrying so much and to just shut up.

He must’ve picked up. Soon, he hugged you even tighter, and gave you a kiss on your forehead, whispering “I love you”. “And remember”, Theo adds quietly, “the real thing is so much better than anything you could ever read about”.

Ridiculous.

#slytherin boys #slytherin #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys fanfiction #harry potter drabble

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odetojupiter · 4 months

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so, we know that abuse and victim responses to abuse are very central to aftg, but what i find interesting is how other characters respond to the victim’s reactions, especially when it comes to mourning their abuser. there’s something about kevin mourning riko, aaron mourning tilda, neil mourning mary, andrew mourning cass, thats so important to me because it really truly highlights how even when people are united through similar traumas, the differences in their situations makes it impossible to fully understand the relationship a person has to their abuser. neil, aaron, and andrew are united through the abuse, neglect, or - what the fuck is the word i’m thinking of? permit? condone? i mean, knowingly allowing it to happen and not intervening - stemming from a maternal figure. but neil can’t understand why andrew would hold on to cass for so long - he refused to let her go until aaron came into the picture. and andrew can’t understand why aaron would mourn for tilda, potentially viewing aaron’s grief as a betrayal of their promise. and they all ridicule kevin for his reactions to riko. of course, neil and andrew are also abused by riko, but they still can’t understand the complicated relationship between kevin and riko because, at the end of the day, they just weren’t there.

i mean this is primarily an observation but i really love how trauma and trauma response is depicted as nuanced, complex and overall just difficult to understand from an outsider perspective in the books. it reads as really real, and though it can be frustrating when a character doesn’t understand a different character’s response, you have to understand that their perception of said character’s response is warped by their own experience of abuse.

andrew bounced from home to home, never had stability, so obviously he held tight on to the first mother-figure that didn’t outright hurt him. his self-worth was probably low enough that he thought living with drake was a fine price to pay to keep cass.

neil only ever had his mother, and he’d willingly accept her harsh hands because he believed she was just keeping him safe from the very real dangers that were closing in on them.

aaron was dealing with an addiction, and so was his mother; he was equally dependent on her to avoid withdrawal as he was scared of her anger.

i don’t really have a point anymore but you get what i’m saying

#or maybe this doesn’t make sense at all #idk i am struggling with words today #but genuinely i love how there’s no perfect ‘therapy friend’ in the series because it’s so unrealistic when someone is dealing with trauma #and somehow someone with a completely different upbringing understands them perfectly and always says exactly what the character needs #to hear #it’s something you see in fiction too much #the way these characters share certain experiences but aren’t 100% united in their responses to trauma #makes them feel so real #even if it means they say the wrong things sometimes #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #aaron minyard #i do indeed ramble on too much ik what ur thinking

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seiwas · 1 year

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₊˚⊹｡ do you believe in love? | gojo satoru

wc: 808

summary: you’re both 23 when you first ask gojo about love.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are mentioned, a bit of sad, there is a swear, kind of a will-they-won’t-they, alludes to some of gojo’s possible internal struggles, might feel a bit ooc? but i like to think gojo does have serious conversations once in a while

a/n: the kind of gojo i envision in this is inspired by all the teen dad/dad gojo fics that i’ve ever read, most notably 'teen dad gojo' by @seravphs and 'keeping up with the fushiguros' by @/augustinewrites. this isn’t an addition to any of their works, but the way they write and characterise gojo has shaped the way i understand him (and ultimately how i write him) in these little blurbs of mine :’) please do check their works out if you have the time, it’s some of my favourites!! :’)

collection masterlist: conversations on love you are here -> 02. tell me about love (show me how)

“Do you believe in love?”

You don’t think he hears you at first, but that’s impossible; the night is quiet, with only you and Gojo sitting by the steps of the dormitory entrance. His dangly long legs brush against yours, lingering barely.

Since Suguru’s defection, Gojo’s gotten a lot more contemplative. He hides it a lot, especially with Megumi and Tsumiki around, but there are times that you catch him spacing out. There’s a far away look on his face and his demeanor completely shifts, rambunctiousness fading into something more restrained, if only in that moment.

Other times, you’re let into that space with him, like now.

“I do.” he replies, uncharacteristically succinct. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it.

You weren’t expecting it, to be honest. With everything that’s happened to him so far, you were ready for a flat out cynical ‘no’. But—

“But,” he continues, “not for me.”

There’s the ‘but’.

He turns to look at you, eyes covered by the bandages he’s been opting for more recently. You’ve known Gojo since you were both 15, and somehow, you’ve gotten good at guessing what he’s always hiding.

“You wanna tell me why?” you nudge. You figure this is good for him—or at least you hope it is.

Getting Gojo to actually sit and have a real conversation with you has been increasingly difficult since Suguru disappeared. Taking in the Fushiguros, then the higher ups assigning him missions back-to-back-to-back—it’s been a lot. And you worry about him, if he’s even been able to sit down and process everything, if he’s even given himself the chance to feel for once.

“Not really,” he shrugs, turning back to the garden in front of you. There isn’t much to discuss, it either fits in his life or doesn’t. When he’s meant for a purpose much larger than himself, small wants remain at just that: small, negligible.

You huff, unable to hide your disappointment, “Okay.”

But, you respect him and what he wants (or does not want) to say.

As you stare out with him, Gojo eyes you from the side, the pout on your lips a teenage souvenir you still carry now at 23. He breaks into a small smile, the corners of his lips curving up slightly, fondly.

“It’s just not meant for me, that’s all.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says that, too.

You slowly avert your gaze from the grass in front of you, focusing on him instead. His smile is still there, although it feels resigned, like he’s accepted this long ago.

Gojo has never been meant to handle something so delicate and fragile—his divinity keeps him untouchable from such pure things.

Still, you want to tell him that that’s not true. That you think love is meant for everyone, even in this fucked up, cursed world—especially in this fucked up, cursed world.

You want to tell him that love is meant for him too.

“Do you wish it were?”

He hums, arms stretching back as he leans on his wrists. His head dips back, looking at the sky. There’s a pause, then an exhale before he continues, “There’s no point thinking about it, I guess.”

A non-answer. You take what you can get; it’s hard enough getting Gojo to be honest with you, much less talk about things like this. The night continues this way: you exchange anecdotes about your latest missions, then talk about Megumi’s most recent involvement in a school incident. Serious questions pop up here and there but you don’t push, and Gojo is willing to share what he can.

You are 23 when you first ask Gojo if he believes in love, and he does, but what he doesn’t tell you is this: that he only believes it because he sees it in you—through the things you do, for Megumi and Tsumiki. For him too.

There’s always been this unspoken thing between the two of you. He doesn’t know what to call it—never has, but it’s comfortable and safe, so he tries to keep it that way.

Suguru has left an unpatchable hole inside of him that only you can seem to touch, softening the jaggedy edges so it doesn’t cut as deep. When he first showed up with Megumi and Tsumiki that one Friday night, you had all the questions in the world; he could see it, feel it in the furrow of your brows and the tapping of your foot. But instead, you asked this: “Have you guys eaten dinner yet?”

Gojo cannot afford love, not yet. Not when there’s still so much at risk, still so much to do. The cons significantly outweigh the pros on both ends, so this will have to do for now—this unspoken thing, that he hopes one day, he can finally call for what it really is.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru #shotorus.writes #help my fingers just started typing and they wouldn't stop ahahahahah #me: writing gojo is so intimidating he's so complex #also me: what are gojo's thoughts on love maybe i should write about it and try to unpack why he feels that way about it #col

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vampireistic · 3 months

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the problem with natlan / sumeru

warning: long post

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to preface this i’d like to say that i’m in no ways an expert in the topics present, i’m just an autistic dumbass with too much time on his hands who enjoys a bit of research — i’m in no way, shape or form trying to belittle players who are excited for the update, by all means i hope you enjoy it, i’m just trying to give criticism.

you can enjoy/play a game while criticising it simultaneously.

when it comes to the topic of racial diversity and a company like hoyoverse that’s based in china, there’s quite a lot of political baggage that comes along with it. while i’ll try my best to go over that, i’m afraid i can only give a very limited eastern european perspective on it and i’ll certainly get things wrong or misinterpret things — if you’d like a more thorough view on the politics, please go read the post made by @zeichannnnn (hope you don’t mind the tag my love)

firstly, i’ll be going over general misconceptions, ridiculous excuses and or stereotypes that i’ve seen commonly come up in this conversation.

any and all screenshots will have usernames cut off for privacy, i want to maintain a civilised discussion and not cause argument.

a lot of my critiques are more so towards the attitude the fandom has when it comes to this argument and their blatant colourism. as my friend above says, no one ever complained about characters in liyue/inazuma being paper white despite the fact realistically, no one in EA is that colour naturally. this of course stems from the beauty standards but that’s a discussion for later on.

the point is that if say a nation like liyue, had the same skin colour as a character like xinyan (who hails from liyue and has a liyue name) people would undoubtedly be upset. so why is it that when in terms of nations that are based off countries with a darker skin colour variety, complaining about the characters being white is seen as a problem?

culture isn’t defined by racial diversity, but when you’re monetising off the representation of different countries cultures, the very least you can do is show the actual diversity within said culture instead of slapping a cultural name on a white model (cue that one picture of the egyptian dude who looks like a plain american).

the idea that because it’s fantasy or anime, having black characters is surreal or improbable is rooted in white supremacy’s hold over unfair beauty standards as well as just the general consensus that black people are less desirable in media. which is completely false.

characters like dehya have proven that a character’s race is irrelevant when it comes to likeness, given the fact the chinese community ended up donating to charities because of said characters story.

the reason why the lightly toasted characters appear tan to you is because the rest of the cast is so horrifically pale (nahida’s hex code is #FFF7F1, cyno’s is #EEC6A6 which when placed next to each other may look like a big difference, but in reality the colours are on the same side of the colour wheel only a few spaces apart).

hoyoverse does in fact use culture as a mere aesthetic and costume to plant on white models. that is NOT to say they misrepresent culture entirely: this post goes over how hoyoverse is perfectly capable of doing impressive research to bring forth forgotten or unknown bits of culture.

even aside from the problems with racial diversity, the character design department has been known to completely fail when it comes to accurate representation. from the sexualisation of the kimono in characters like raiden shogun (which even the eastern part of the fandom have been upset about) to the character of yunjin where the chinese player based believed she was more like a lolita inspired caricature than a real depiction. they don’t understand how to mingle tradition with modernism.

in all fairness, it is difficult — and i will praise the game for making natlan much more technologically advanced and vibrant than people were expecting because having the one nation that’s based off africa and indigenous people be a wasteland would’ve ultimately been a problem. personally, i even love the slight mashup of “tribes” and the pokémon esque aesthetic — its new, and a smart way to bring two things together.

same thing cannot be said for how hyv ignores the fact darker people of colour are also significant when it comes to the building of culture.

please read over these that go more into depth about problems:

natlan being an amalgamation of three separate countries/cultures.

misrepresenting both continents natlan’s based from

another thing that’s always bothered me is the excuses people used in sumeru about the presentation of characters that were based off real people; specifically, kusanali.

yes, she’s based off a hindu moon goddess who’s described as pale and sure that could’ve been the reason she’s nearly the colour white — but how come candace, who’s based off kandake, a fully black woman, is presented as being slightly tan? you can’t pick and choose what you represent and honestly the idea that nahida’s character is supposed to be a depiction of the moon goddess is disrespect to the goddess herself (please go look at a singular picture of her and you’ll understand the utter tragedy).

hoyoverse also has a bit of a history with both whitewashing their slightly tan characters (nekomiya from zoneless zen zero, arlan from honkai star rail etc) but i think one of their biggest proofs of disrespect comes to carole pepper from hi3.

now, this is not at all me saying you can’t present female characters as very muscular — no. in fact, i would’ve loved if characters like beidou had a similar sort of build. but out of all the characters you could’ve chosen to give this to, you chose a black woman.

would this be a problem if it continued with other characters? not really. the issue lies within the fact the ONLY mother in game who’s presented as buff and “masculine looking” is a black woman — something that’s quite literally a stereotype against black women who are regarded as “naturally less feminine” than white women.

eastern beauty standards

the assertion that eastern beauty standards prevent the inclusion of black characters in video games is not only invalid but also reflects deeper issues of bias and systemic exclusion in the gaming industry. this argument is flawed for several reasons, including the diversity of beauty standards in eastern cultures, the global nature of the gaming market, and the responsibility of creators to reflect and promote inclusivity.

to claim that eastern beauty standards universally exclude black characters oversimplifies and homogenizes the diverse beauty ideals present in countries like japan, south korea, and china. these cultures are not monolithic and have their own histories and contemporary movements that embrace a variety of appearances.

creators in the gaming industry have a responsibility to reflect the diversity of the real world and promote inclusivity. video games are a powerful medium that can shape perceptions, challenge stereotypes, and foster empathy. by including black characters, game developers can contribute to a more inclusive and equitable society. this requires intentionality and a commitment to representation that goes beyond mere tokenism. the argument that eastern beauty standards prevent such inclusion suggests a lack of willingness to challenge existing norms and expand the narrative possibilities within games. hoyoverse have themselves stated in their mission statement that their goal is to show inclusivity.

that’s not to say it’s not clear that china’s beauty standards have unfortunately affected the gaming market: but for a game that brandishes itself on localising itself for a global audience (meaning, outside of its region), it’s a poor excuse. those standards aren’t universal and shouldn’t be used as gateway into designing.

once again, i am NOT at all very well versed in politics especially one that’s overseas (well, next door neighbour in a way) so i definitely will misinterpret or misunderstand things unintentionally and if i do, i’m really sorry.

historical nihilism to me doesn’t relate to black people, just actual story events (hence why hoyoverse had to put a warning label for fontaine that the events presented didn’t represent that of the real world and any similarities were mere coincidence). black people existing isn’t regarded as “politically harmful” neither is it an extraordinary idea — it’s just another group of people.

although, the CCP has a MASSIVE history about their demonisation and hatred of black people therefore, even without the idea that the censorship stems from something like historical nihilism, it’s likely something to do with individual prejudice.

politically, i can semi-understand why hoyoverse is in a tight space for racial diversity. but that doesn’t mean i’m willing to baby a company that profits billions worth of profit from other cultures that they misrepresent and i’m even less inclined to hold the hands of hoyoverse dickriders who believe people complain about race just solely to whine. it’s a real systemic issue, and one that’s prevalent in a multitude of games aside from genshin.

people from the cultures presented are rightfully upset and they shouldn’t be told to just “accept”mediocrity. it’s their culture and identities being ridiculed, it’s their identities being profited from for the sake of aesthetics for a game that preaches inclusivity to the people that are willing to ignore its prejudice.

hell, even as a polish person, just thinking about what they’ll do with snezhnaya upsets me even if it’s not racially based — once again, the media emphasises the idea that eastern europe / slavic culture is purely russia meanwhile they steal little things from all of the surrounding countries in eastern europe (won’t forget the fact they changed that password thing in sumeru from “ravioli” to “pierogi”).

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TL;DR hoyoverse uses other people’s cultures and identities as an aesthetic and proceeds to profit off of it while misrepresenting the sample of people they chose to depict and while a political argument can be made in this regard, ultimately the backlash from people rightfully feeling unjustified in the lack of racial diversity is what amplifies these colourist attitudes: and while hoyoverse has seemingly much more legal repercussions to commit to their idea of diversity, the fandom has no excuse for their disregard of different identities.

also just a funny thing my friend and i did to show just how white these characters are lol

“ blackwashing “ versus “ whitewashing “

i feel like i need to add this little section too because i know there will be a lot of people that draw or reimagine the characters in a variety of different skin tones, and i know a lot of people will be upset (usually it’s just the lowlife weebs who cry at the thought of a black woman being in the same room as them).

historically, media, including video games and anime, have predominantly featured pale-skinned characters, often neglecting the representation of people of color. this lack of diversity reinforces a narrow view of beauty and heroism, contributing to the systemic exclusion of non-white individuals. blackwashing helps to rectify these historical imbalances by providing a broader spectrum of racial representation. it challenges the default assumption that characters must be pale-skinned and introduces audiences to a more inclusive range of appearances.

representation matters profoundly in media. seeing characters that reflect one's own identity can have significant positive effects on self-esteem and cultural pride. blackwashing creates opportunities for black audiences to see themselves in roles and narratives traditionally dominated by pale-skinned characters.

critics (once again, youtube creators and tiktok lmao) of blackwashing often argue that it disrespects original character designs or cultural contexts. however, the impact of changing a character's skin tone is minimal compared to the harm caused by whitewashing. whitewashing often erases the cultural significance of non-white characters, perpetuating stereotypes and denying the rich diversity of the source material. blackwashing, in contrast, does not erase cultural identities but rather enhances the inclusivity of the media. it provides a more diverse and representative depiction without detracting from the character's original essence or storyline.

in addition, usually when a character is black in fantasy media or even just an anime/game with a lore based story, it’s because their race is significant to who they are (i.e tiana from princess and the frog who faces racial discrimination — without her being a person of colour, this storyline and the events that follow wouldn’t make sense).

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i’m sorry for such a long and probably nonsensical rant, but this has bothered me into absolute oblivion especially the community’s response to the uproar of people who rightfully critique and are upset by the company.

#i won’t entertain mediocrity no matter the excuse #sorry for the long post i got a headache while writing it 😢#genshin #genshin impact #gi #genshin natlan #natlan #genshin critical

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ariel26c · 2 months

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Some Tough Love

(Long rant ahead with lots of cussing)

If you feel like giving up on your desires it’s because you still aren’t grasping the fact that you have it right now. It doesn’t fucking matter what the 3D shows you. Who is the God of your reality?? You or the 3D??? You duh. 🙄

Some of you need to discipline yourself. It’s not about motivation because motivation is temporary and you’re only going to continue to search for posts to motivate you. It’s a repetitive cycle.

Know what you want and tell yourself you have it. Stick to that shit. Be stubborn. You’re fucking God / The Creator of your reality. Get that shit through your head. Decide it’s yours right now. What are you so worried about?? That you’re never gonna get it??? But why not??? What’s so fucking wrong with you that you feel like it can work for others but not you???

If you can manifest all the bullshit of bad luck, shitty relationships, debt and all the bad why can’t you manifest the good??? Think of all the negative things you’ve experienced. You manifested that. You thought of the bad and manifested the bad. (Except for traumatic experiences, it’s not your fault).

Your SP is in love with someone else??? No they fucking aren’t. They love you.

You have one dollar in your bank account??? No you don’t, you’re literally a millionaire.

To change what’s happening on the outside you need to change within. You need to change your way of thinking. That’s it.

Understand that whatever you assume to be true is true. You are only making it more difficult for yourself by asking questions like “Is iT WoRKinG?” Or saying “It’S NOt WoRKiNg.”

If you’re checking constantly. I hate to break it to you but… you’re not living in the end. If you have it you wouldn’t be checking. If you have it you wouldn’t be thinking of giving up. If you have it you wouldn’t be searching how to manifest (blank) videos.

I regret giving up on my desires because I literally just wasted all of that potential. I could’ve had my desires by now if I didn’t give up and simply allowed myself to have it. Trust me you’ll regret it if you give up.

Law of Assumption is fucking LAW meaning it will never fail you. Failure is not an option. If you don’t get your desires it’s simply because you didn’t persist. You gave your power away to things that don’t matter like your doubts and negative emotions. You assumed it wasn’t working. You assumed you’d fail and that’s what happened. This just proves how real the Law of Assumption is.

It’s not a scam. It’s not fake or bullshit but again if that’s what you assume it is then that’s what it will be to you.

I get it. We weren’t born knowing about Loa but if we did trust me that the world would be much different. Tell yourself you’re that fucking bitch because you know what 99% of the world doesn’t. If you know about Loa it’s a fucking sign that you’re meant to have all of your desires. It’s not a coincidence.

Stop whining, bitching and complaining. 😤

From now on I want you to stop searching for videos and posts if you’re not applying what you learned. I want you to focus on being the version of you that already has it. Wake up every single day knowing how fucking powerful you are.

(Hope this wasn’t too mean lol but reread this post until you understand that you are God / The Creator)

#desired reality #law of the universe #affirmations #manifestation #manifesting #law of assumption #self concept #law of manifestation #imagination #desired self

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trippinsorrows · 3 months

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looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations.

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude.

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish.

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye.

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.”

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so.

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat.

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react.

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him.

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning.

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him.

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much.

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father.

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her.

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such.

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons.

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer.

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those.

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this.

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed.

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived.

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself.

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds.

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously.

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi.

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?”

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training.

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms.

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of.

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good.

It’s not good at all.

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive.

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps.

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me.

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway.

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama.

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot.

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced.

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness.

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley.

Clearly, that’s not the case.

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions.

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers.

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak.

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest.

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth.

It’s a spectacle, to say the least.

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift. “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish.

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there’s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges.

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered.

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face.

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way.

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another.

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close.

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind.

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does.

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him.

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime.

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight.

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He’s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own.

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does.

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats.

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her.

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years.

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.”

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her.

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies.

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice.

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.”

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her.

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her.

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her.

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.”

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack.

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother.

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!reader #arisnotebook

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