#How can you be so thoughtful and kind all the time???

[mononijikayu]

you belong with me — nanami kento.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, car sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my love, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, best friend! nanami kento, best friend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the final fic for 2024!!! wah, there's a lot to say. first and foremost, this fic would not be possible if it wasn't for the lovely person who commissioned it from me awhile back. please give them a lot of love and a lot of thanks.

they were my first ever commission here and still it flutters my heart with joy to have worked them. they were so good to me and continues to do so, with how they want to share this fic with you too.

also, i want to thank you all for sticking with me this 2024. it was a long road and a really painful time. i wrote to escape these painful times and i got through 2024 with you guys, just enjoying stories in my head. so thank you!!! there were a lot and there are still a lot i haven't published here.

i hope we continue to be together in 2025 too. i'll continue to write for both of us, to have solace in hard times. i bow to you in all ways that i can. thank you for being good to me!!! i love you all. this is kayu signing off for 2024. please have a lovely and wonderful new year and i'll see you on january 2025 <33333

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EVEN AS A CHILD, YOU THOUGHT THAT HE BELONGED TO YOU. It was a childish little thing, you knew that much. But the moment you met Nanami Kento at the park when you were five years old, you just knew he was going to be your best friend.

And no one else could claim that from you. It wasn’t something you decided after a long debate in your head. If anything, it was instinctive, instant, like the way a flower turns toward the sun. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t seem to mind it.

That day, Nanami Kento was sitting on the swings, looking unusually serious for a kid. His little legs dangled, barely brushing the ground, and he rocked back and forth so slightly it was as if he wasn’t even moving. It was odd. 

Most kids treated the swings like they were flying machines, pumping their legs wildly, laughing as they soared. But not Kento. He just sat there, his small hands gripping the chains, his gaze fixed on the ground as though it held all the answers to the universe.

It wasn’t sadness—not exactly. He didn’t look miserable or lonely. No, it was more like he was... satisfied. Content in his little bubble of silence, where the noise of the playground seemed to slide right past him.

You, however, were not content with his quiet. What could a kid possibly have to think about so deeply? Why wasn’t he running around, chasing someone, or shouting nonsense with the other kids? How could he stomach sitting there alone for so long?

The questions buzzed in your head, but more than that, you felt a pull. You wanted to know him. You wanted him to talk to you, to share whatever thoughts were hiding behind those serious brown eyes. And if he wouldn’t come to you, well, that was fine. You’d go to him.

You had the kind of confidence that only comes from being five years old and utterly fearless. The kind of confidence that didn’t know rejection or hesitation, only the certainty that the world would say "yes" if you asked it nicely enough.

So, you marched right up to him, your pigtails bouncing with each determined step. You put on your brightest smile, the kind of smile that has always gotten adults to bend down and coo. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

"Hi!" you announced, planting yourself firmly in front of him like he had no choice but to acknowledge you. You told him your name, grinning at him. 

He blinked, startled out of his deep, secured thoughts to the sight of you. It took a while, but he  lifted his caramel gaze to meet yours. For a moment, he just looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if you were real. No one has ever approached him before, well not as brazenly as this. Then, finally, he answered you back. 

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied. 

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

“Huh? It’s pretty!” you retorted, your hands flying to your hips, a slight pout settling on your lips. “My mom thought hard about it, you know!”

“So did mine.” Kento shot back, a flicker of mischief lighting his normally serious face. Then, in a tone that was just a little too smug, he added, “It’s a good name too.”

For a second, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the slyness in his tone. Then, to your own surprise, you burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the words that got to you—it was the way he said them, so calm and deliberate, like he was throwing you a challenge wrapped in politeness.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you decided, grinning widely.

Kento raised an eyebrow at that, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Well, you are.” you said firmly, as though your opinion was final. “So, Kento, what do you wanna do? We could swing, or climb the jungle gym, or—oh! We could build a sandcastle!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your rapid-fire suggestions. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t used to making decisions for playtime.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand without a second thought. “Then we’re doing the sandcastle! Come on, you’re gonna love it.”

He let you pull him along, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. “What if I don’t?” he asked, his voice so soft you almost missed the challenge in it.

“You will!” you said confidently, already imagining the crooked towers you’d build together. “Because I said so.”

Nanami Kento didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet laugh, the sound so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. But you were paying attention, because something about this boy made you want to see every little detail he kept hidden in that quiet bubble of his.

From that moment, Kento Nanami became yours.

He knew that just as much as you did, even then.

And he was certain you were just as much his from then.

It wasn’t long into your days of playdates before you started staking your claim. You didn’t mean to—well, maybe you did. That really didn’t matter. What mattered was that you and Kento were having fun. Like the time some other kids approached while you and Kento were hard at work in the sandbox, trying to make your castle less crooked.

"Hey, kid!" one of them called, pointing at the little shovel in Kento’s hands. "Can I borrow that?"

"No way." you said firmly before Kento could even open his mouth. You shot the kid a look that clearly said back off. "We’re using it."

"But—"

"Nope. Sorry. It’s ours to play with." you cut them off, turning back to your castle as if the conversation was over. "Right, Kento?"

Kento hesitated for a second, glancing between you and the other kid, before quietly nodding. "Right."

The other kids' faces were filled with harsh looks at what you said. But you didn’t care. All they could do was huff and puff until they were blue in the face. You would never budge, not even if they wanted you too. 

You were a tough girl. And you always got what you wanted. And you wanted your new friend and his attention only on you. So you didn't care what you did. You’ll keep your friend, no matter what they want. 

Soon enough, they gave in and went to wander off. You can only smile. You didn’t feel the slightest bit bad. If anything, you had wished that they had left much sooner. 

You turned to Kento with a satisfied smile. "Good. They’d just mess it up anyway. It’s better if we play together, only us!"

Kento tilted his head, watching you with that quiet curiosity he always seemed to have. You seemed to be content about playing just by yourself, by his side. Not many kids seem to be content about wanting to do that at all.

"Why don’t you let other kids play with us?" he asked.

You looked at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. "Because you’re my friend. I found you first. That means you’re mine."

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Then, slowly, that tiny, barely-there smile returned.

"Okay." he said simply, like he didn’t mind one bit.

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YEARS DRAGGED ON IN A FLASH FOR BOTH OF YOU. From that day forward, Nanami Kento was your shadow. Or maybe you were his—it often depended on who was asking and whose ego needed inflating at the moment.

But that was just how it was between the two of you. And you were content about how that goes. You knew he was just the same. Not because you went around declaring it (okay, maybe you did once or twice), but because your actions left no room for doubt.

The two of you were inseparable, and everyone knew it. In a way, both your parents were both glad and concerned about it. Glad that you both were in each other’s lives, nurturing and caring for each other. That means you both weren’t lonely, and you both were happily playing with each other day in and out of school.

But concerned that you weren’t letting each other find any other people in your lives and explore other friendships. But that hardly mattered to the two of you. Both of you didn’t budge. You didn’t need anyone else. If anything, you only need each other. You were both content with that. 

If there was a school project, Nanami Kento was your partner. No debates, no negotiation. You made sure of it every single time. It got to the point where teachers didn’t even bother asking anymore. By third grade, the class roster might as well have been printed with your name and his own written in bold under "Partners" for every project.

“Do you guys ever work with anyone else?” a classmate once dared to ask.

“Why would we?” you replied, looking genuinely puzzled. “He’s the best at making the physical parts.I don’t need anyone else.”

Kento, standing beside you, simply shrugged. “She’s good at explaining the messy, hard parts.” he said, so matter-of-factly it left no room for argument.

At lunch, it was no different. You always saved him a spot, waving him over like a VIP guest being ushered past the velvet rope. And no one dared sit with the two of you. Not after The Incident.

There was one time where a new kid made the mistake of sliding into the seat next to Nanami Kento before he got there. You didn’t even hesitate to act as quickly as you could. 

“Excuse me, new kid.” you said, your voice sugary sweet, but your eyes narrowing dangerously.

“What?” the kid asked, glancing up at you.

“That’s his seat.” You pointed toward Kento, who was still in the lunch line, entirely oblivious to the showdown brewing at the table.

“Seats are for everyone in the school.” the kid said, with all the defiance of someone who didn’t know better yet. “I can sit wherever I want.”

And that’s when you did it. You reached out and swatted their hand as they tried to open their milk carton. You glared at him, almost as cold as the North Pole. He gulped at your glare. You were terrifying for a middle schooler.

“Go. Somewhere. Else.” you said, every word punctuated with a glare that could have sent a grown man packing. “That’s HIS seat!”

The new kid was terrified and immediately scurried off, muttering something about "territorial weirdos." — that was another thing for the school to whisper about in their past time. But you didn’t care. 

By the time that he got out of the boy’s toilets, Nanami Kento got to the table, his spot was as clear as always, and you were already peeling the wrapper off the sandwich your mom made for him like nothing had happened.

“Thanks.” he said, sitting down without even asking why the kid from earlier was now eating on the other side of the cafeteria. He saw that of course. But he didn’t dare ask. “Thank your mom for me, about the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome.” you replied, sliding his sandwich over to him. You smiled as he opened his own lunch bag and started to pull out chocolate pudding in a tupperware. “Ohhhh, your mom thought of dessert!”

“Hm, I asked her.” Kento retorts back to you, smiling softly at your excitement. “Since you like chocolate pudding.”

“Thank your mama for me, okay?”

“Hm, I will.”

But of course, your protectiveness didn’t stop at lunch seats. If anything, you were protective of him to the point that it was already insane. If anyone so much as thought about teasing him, you were on them like a hawk. It didn’t matter if it was a stupid nickname or a poorly aimed joke. Nanami Kento wasn’t going to deal with any of it, not on your watch.

“Hey, Kento, why are you so quiet all the time?” one boy snickered during recess, his tone dripping with mockery.

Before Kento could even respond, you were already there, hands on your hips and glaring like you were ready to call down the wrath of the heavens. You glared at the kid as though he was meeting to face a thousand suns. 

“Maybe he’s quiet because he doesn’t waste time saying dumb things like you do.” you snapped, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow for maximum effect. “Stop being a weird waste of space and leave him alone, you freak!”

The boy tried to stammer something in response, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You didn’t care for what they said. Only for what Kento says. You rolled your eyes at the kid, as though he bored you and looked away. Soon enough, you turned back to Kento, your expression softening immediately. 

“Come on, Kento.” you said, grabbing his hand. “We’re going to the swings.”

Kento didn’t say much about that. But later, when that same boy made a malicious face at you from across the playground and had made a plan to chase you with a bottle of water to throw, Nanami Kento was the first to sense a threat against you.

He sighed heavily and without even looking up from his picture book muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “She’s faster than you, you know? She would wet your hair and make fun of you for it. So, I wouldn’t try it.”

The boy stayed far away after that.

And you could only giggle at what he said.

Nanami Kento knew you all too well.

But just as much as you were ready to fight Nanami Kento’s battles, he was ready to fight yours. And while you often took on challenges with the energy of a charging bull, Kento’s approach was quieter, deadlier—like a knife slipping between ribs before anyone even noticed it was there. He was just that type of kid, you think.

You first realized just how far Kento was willing to go for you one day when a group of older girls decided to target your ponytails. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first; you were used to the occasional teasing. But this time, something about their tone, or maybe the way they crowded around, everything about it had made your stomach twist.

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Her friends burst into laughter, as if she’d just delivered the punchline of the century. You bristled, the words forming on your tongue to snap back. But before you could speak, Kento appeared, slipping between you and the girls like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why do you care?” he asked, his tone calm, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

It was such a simple question, but somehow it silenced the entire group. The girl blinked at him, thrown off by his directness. Kento yawned, as though he was already bored with her. She had never expected anything from him. Kento was quiet and reserved. 

He was also popular and quite a handsome young boy that people had a crush on. Even when he didn’t talk or pay any mind to any of them. You glared at this girl, as though she was the worst of them all. She’s always been trying to take Kento from you.

“Uh, excuse me?” she said, attempting to regain her composure.

“You heard me.” Kento’s gaze was steady, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was an edge to his voice that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. “Why do you care what she looks like? Or are you just bored?”

The giggling stopped. 

“Well, I—” The girl floundered, her cheeks turning pink. 

“She looks fine to me.” Kento interrupted smoothly, tilting his head slightly as if he were assessing them. “Better than you, anyway. I mean, those pants with that shirt? What are you thinking? Does your mom even love you if she allows you to wear something like that?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop at what he had said. You look at him, blinkingly. Before finding yourself bellowing at laughter at how blunt he had worked everything. The girls gasped, their mouths falling open in perfect synchronization. One of them muttered something about “rude boys” and then, just like that, they were gone, retreating with their tails between their legs.

You stood there, stunned, as Kento turned back to you like nothing had happened. You finally straightened yourself from your laughing form. You wiped your eyes as you turned back at him. You grinned at his words. 

“Better than her?” you repeated later as the two of you walked back to class. You were trying not to laugh, but the corners of your mouth kept twitching upward.

“It’s true. You already know that.” he said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he’d already opened, as if the whole thing hadn’t even fazed him.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, don’t you?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it.” he replied dryly, but the tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

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BUT OF COURSE, THIS ONLY INTENSIFIED ONCE YOU BOTH GREW OLDER. Entering this new environment, in high school — one could say nothing had ever changed. If anything, it has only grown more concrete that you and Nanami Kento, no one can separate the two of you even if they tried. 

If one were to describe how you both were, it would be like being a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Inseparable. And even when people questioned it, you turned them down just as easily. Little by little, people barely questioned it anymore. 

You had long since reached the point where your friendship was so solid that it seemed like a fact of life. If anyone tried to ask about it, the answer was already clear: You two were a package deal. And while you liked it that way, not everyone seemed to get the memo.

It didn’t take long for the attention to roll in once high school started. You were used to it by now. After all, you and Kento had always been a pair of conspicuously close friends, so naturally, people were curious. 

But this was a different kind of curiosity, the kind that came with stares and whispers behind your backs. Everyone seemed to have suddenly developed a keen interest in your best friend, and you couldn’t decide if it was because of his brooding good looks or that deep, mysterious aura he carried, but maybe, probably both.

It started with the girls, as it usually did. They would hover around Kento in class, a little too eager to engage in conversations about anything—his favorite books, his thoughts on the weather, even the random things he’d written in the margins of his notes. It didn’t matter what they brought up; they were just looking for an excuse to get a reaction out of him. 

They wanted to be the one to crack the mystery that was Nanami Kento. And of course, they expected him to open up, to smile, to laugh, to do something that would confirm they were special enough to make him forget his usual quiet, studious demeanor.

But Kento, being the stoic, no-nonsense guy he was, would respond with quiet politeness, barely even registering their presence. He would tilt his head slightly when they asked questions, look at them through the edge of his glasses, and give just enough of an answer to keep things from getting awkward.

The girls would often stare at him a little longer than necessary, hoping for a second of warmth or acknowledgment. But no matter how many times they tried, all they got was that polite, impersonal smile that didn’t reach his eyes. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he didn’t care about them, not in the way they wanted. 

To Nanami Kento, it was all just noise. So, he’d just keep his focus on what mattered, which was probably the latest algebra problem or his ongoing internal monologue about the best way to prepare his next snack.

Even as an emo guy with that black hoodie, messy blond hair, brooding eyes that screamed ‘don’t talk to me, but if you do, be prepared for my sarcasm’—people still flocked to him. It was almost unfair, you thought. He had this combination of boy-next-door charm and detached, almost tragic mystique that girls couldn’t resist. 

He was a pretty boy, you knew that much. You’d known him long enough to appreciate the way his eyes glinted in the sunlight, how his messy hair always looked effortlessly perfect, how he somehow made a monotone voice sound like the most hypnotic thing in the room.

And it wasn’t just the girls, either. The guys were starting to notice, too. Sure, they didn’t hover the same way, but they’d get a little too chatty when Kento was around, laughing a little too hard at his dry jokes, trying just a bit too hard to be friendly.

Everyone knew he wasn’t the type to just buddy up with anyone, and that mystery only made him more desirable. So when they’d get too close, you’d notice the slight twitch of Kento’s eyebrow, the way he’d lean just a little bit further away to make it clear that he was not interested in their company.

But the one thing you didn’t doubt was this: Kento was really polite. He never outright rejected anyone, and that politeness was a plus. Sure, it drove you a little crazy when they’d swarm him like bees to honey.

But you had to admit that his politeness was a rare commodity in a world where most people had no issue turning someone down rudely or making them feel uncomfortable. Kento didn’t do that. He’d simply nod back at people and get back to whatever it was he was doing, never making a fuss about the attention.

Well, it was better than over half the school, that’s for sure. You’d seen the way people treated each other, cold and snide, brushing off others without so much as a second thought. Kento was a rare gem in that regard. He was a gentleman, even in the face of all the attention he was getting, and that made it all the more frustrating. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to admire him; you just didn’t like the thought of anyone thinking they could replace you. You and Kento had this bond, a strong one, one that didn’t need words to be understood. But here was the thing—everyone else didn’t get it. And that was where the fun (and by fun, you mean sneaky sabotage) began.

After all, who else could say they knew all his little quirks? Who else had shared so many quiet lunches under that same oak tree, or been the one to force him to eat a full meal instead of staring at his book? You were his best friend, and that meant you had a certain, special claim on him, no matter how many girls wanted to make themselves part of his world.

But, like the selfless best friend you were, you’d keep that fact under wraps. No one needed to know you had a stake in him—especially when you were also the one helping him avoid the chaos of all his newfound admirers. Let them keep fighting over who could be the one to crack Kento's cold exterior; you'd be the one to keep it safe.

But that wasn’t enough. No, they wanted more. They wanted to peel back the layers, crack open that cool exterior, and find whatever hidden treasure lay beneath. And that was where you came in. That’s where you always have to come in. He was your best friend, after all.

It wasn’t that you hated the attention Kento was getting, but it was yours, wasn’t it? You didn’t want anyone to think they could just stroll up and waltz into the little bubble you and Kento had created. And you know he agreed. He doesn’t really need anyone else, he’s said that to you numerous times.

So naturally, you and Kento found creative ways to sabotage any admirer who dared to get too close. It wasn’t malicious, exactly. Well, not to you or Kento. it was more like you were just “protecting” him, and, on occasion, he did the same for you.

It started with the simple things. You'd hover near him during lunch, casually tossing your snacks at him in a way that made it obvious you didn’t want him interacting too much with anyone else. It was like a game of cat-and-mouse between the two of you. Both of you pretended you weren’t doing it, but everyone knew exactly what you were up to.

For example, when this girl from the other class named Yuki asked to sit with Kento one day during lunch time, you quickly swooped in, plopping down next to him like you were the most important thing in his world. You grinned at him and he hummed.

“Hey, Kentooooo!” you said, dropping your lunch tray in front of him. “Did you get those history notes I gave you this morning?”

Yuki opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you continued to talk to him with a brighter grin. You nonchalantly handed your strawberry milk carton to him and he started to open it for you with the same amount of cool. 

“I was thinking of making brownies this weekend. You like chocolate, right? The ones that we used to buy at the mart? It hasn’t changed, right?” You sent her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know it's probably too sweet, but it’s his favorite.”

Kento nodded back at you as he placed your strawberry milk carton on the side. You thanked him happily as you started to drink with happy sounds. Kento simply looked at Yuki with the politest expression he could muster and muttered back at her. 

“Sorry, I’ve got a study group with her after school. Maybe next time.”

Yuki didn’t even bother trying to argue, just nodding stiffly before retreating. You shot Kento a quick grin, but before you could say anything, he just sighed and went back to his book.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” he muttered under his breath. “Could have handled that myself.”

“But I have to. You know that.” you said with a grin, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “You’re my best friend, not hers.”

One day at lunch, as you and Kento sat under the shade of the old oak tree, munching on your usual snacks, a girl named Mia from your history class walked by. She glanced at Kento, then at you, then back at Kento, before finally stopping a few feet away.

"Hey, Kento!" she called, her voice way too sweet for your liking. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You didn’t even have to look up from your crackers. “Sure, but he doesn’t bite.” you said, not even looking at Mia. “I mean, I don’t think so...”

Kento, who had been engrossed in a textbook the size of a brick, glanced up at you before looking back at Mia. "I can sit alone, you know." he said, a little too casually, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn’t care much for the attention.

Mia, undeterred, tried again. “Are you sure? I heard you like this band, too. Maybe we could—”

But before she could finish her sentence, you leaned forward, dropping a half-eaten cracker dramatically into your lap as if to make your point clear. 

"If you want to talk about music, you’re gonna have to take it up with me right now, okay?" you declared, giving her your best “this is my turf” look. "Kento here’s more into his book right now, not whatever band you think you have in common with him."

Kento blinked slowly, clearly trying to figure out why he was being pulled into this, but didn't argue. He just glanced at you and nodded, an expression you knew meant, I’m not getting involved in this one.

Mia looked between you and Kento, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, fine.” she muttered before turning around and walking off, her face flushed red.

"Good job, hero," Kento muttered under his breath, voice dry.

You smirked at him. "You’re welcome, sunshine."

Of course, it wasn’t like you were the only one who was possessive. Nanami Kento hated that you were constantly getting hit on. It drove him absolutely insane. Apparently, teenage boys had this ridiculous notion that your consistent rejections made you more appealing. The more you turned them down, the more determined they became, like you were some kind of prize to be won.

Nanami Kento of course, naturally, found this logic baffling—and irritating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to handle yourself; he absolutely did. He hated everyone else, maybe most of all the men around him and of course — you. 

But watching those guys swarm around you, trying to impress you with their lame jokes or over-the-top compliments, made his jaw tighten and his grip on his pen just a little too firm. Oh, he hated men even more like that. And, well, Kento was never one to sit back and let something annoy him for too long. Not when it comes to you.

But of course, there are things that come as unexpected too.

Maybe it was because Nanami Kento was too perceptive.

Maybe he was just good at dissecting situations happening.

He doesn’t know how this happened, or how this came to pass.

But today would change his life for good, that was certain.

A week after one particularly bold senior cornered you after class to “ask for your number” Kento decided to return the favor—not with dramatics, of course, but with his usual understated, calm assertiveness.

You were sitting in the library, animatedly telling Kento about your latest sketch. It was a concept you were certain would win the upcoming art contest. He was actually paying attention, nodding slightly as you explained your technique, when suddenly, a guy from the senior class decided to interrupt.

“Hey, you’re the girl who draws, right?” the senior asked, leaning against the edge of the table with a grin that screamed overconfident.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”

“Well,” he continued, practically oozing smugness, “I was thinking, maybe you’d want to collaborate on some sketches sometime. You know, we could—”

Before he could finish whatever weak line he’d rehearsed, Kento smoothly slid into the seat beside you, his broad shoulders cutting off your view of the guy. He didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned to you, his voice calm but laced with just enough edge to make his point.

“I’m pretty sure sketching is a solitary activity.” Kento said matter-of-factly. “You know, for concentration… unless, of course, you want a distraction?”

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Kento’s sudden presence. “Uh, no, I—”

Kento didn’t let him finish. “You know….” he continued, still not looking at the guy. “It’s actually better if you’re alone when you’re working. Less… interruptions.” 

He then picked up your sketchbook, flipping through it with the kind of casual indifference that somehow made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Your jaw dropped at what he’s done.He’s silly like this sometimes, you think to yourself. 

“Kento!” you half-laughed, half-scolded, reaching for your sketchbook. “That’s my sketchbook!”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” he replied nonchalantly, not even pretending to give it back. His attention wasn’t on your sketches anymore, though. His eyes were fixed on the poor senior, who was now fidgeting uncomfortably under Kento’s unnervingly calm stare. 

“Do you mind?” Kento said coolly. “She’s busy.”

The guy stammered something unintelligible, his confidence evaporating faster than a spilled soda in the sun. “Uh… yeah, maybe another time, I guess.” he mumbled before slinking off, clearly realizing he was no match for Nanami Kento’s level of subtle intimidation.

Once the guy was gone, you turned back to Kento, crossing your arms with a mix of exasperation and amusement. You giggled to yourself for a moment. He sighed, looking at how amused you were. It was always like this with you, getting giddy when he does things like this.

“Nice one, Kento.” you said, smirking. “You do know I could have handled that, right?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, setting your sketchbook back down and leaning back in his chair like nothing had happened. You take it back from him, giving him a small thanks. He couldn’t stop looking at you. But when you looked up again, he'd already looked away.

“Sure.” he said, his lips curling into that faint, almost-smile of his. “But it looked like you were busy… talking to him.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “What was that even about? You’re not my bodyguard, you know.”

“I wasn’t being a bodyguard.” he replied, his tone annoyingly calm. “I was just... pointing out how distracting he was being.”

“Right, right.” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “And that had nothing to do with you hating that he interrupted us?”

Kento didn’t answer right away, but the way his eyes flickered with quiet amusement gave him away. He never likes admitting it out loud, but he feels glad. He feels glad when he makes sure you both are alone. You were all he needed after all.

“Maybe.” he finally admitted, his voice as casual as ever. “Or maybe I just wanted to look at your sketchbook.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you talk too much.” he countered, eyes shining softly against your own.

You giggled back at him, your lips smiling beautifully at him. Beautifully more than ever before. “But you like it that way, don’t you?”

Huh, what was that? He thought to himself.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Was that his heart beating like that just now?

For a moment, he stops and looks at you. You were unaware about what happened just now. Instead, you were back on your sketching, humming to some song you were obsessed with right now. Kento swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how he was looking at you. He cleared his throat. 

“We should get going.” he said finally, his voice a little quieter than usual. “The library closes soon.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as you always did. But as you walked, Kento couldn’t help sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. He’d always thought of himself as someone who was good at keeping his emotions in check, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Is this what it feels like? Kento wondered as he watched you walk off in front of him. 

He stops. He takes in the sight of you. You were laughing, hopping on the tiles one by one. The sun glows behind you like a beacon leading him to the direction of life. You nearly fell, making him jump forward. But you held your balance. 

And then you laughed. Laughed so beautifully that he doesn’t know what to do.  He could feel every fiber of him turning warm, warmer and redder than ever before. His heart beating out of rhythm again. 

Ah, shit. Kento once more thinks to himself. I’m screwed.

══════════════════

HE DOESN’T THINK TO SAY ANYTHING. How could he, when he’s scared about the outcome? But as the time flew by as fast as it could, he knew he can’t keep being a coward about it. He had to say something. He should do it soon.

It was going to come out anyway. College was looming on both your shoulders. And with that, a lot of uncertainty came. If he says something, at the very least there would be something certain, concrete as your friendship. 

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor of Kento’s family home, a single bottle of sake between you. Neither of you had much experience with alcohol, but the thrill of being eighteen and toeing the line of rebellion was too tempting to resist.

Kento poured carefully into the mismatched cups you'd found in his cupboard, his movements precise, even in the low light.

"Cheers, cheers!" you yell with that bright eyed grin, raising your cup to him.

"To...?" he asked, his brow arching slightly, always wanting things to have a purpose.

"To us!" you said simply, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He hesitated, his breath catching in his chest, before clicking his cup against yours. "To us."

The first sip was sharp, burning its way down, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol began to work its magic with swift effectivity. You laughed more freely, leaning closer to him, and your words came faster, your thoughts unfiltered.

"You know, Kentooooo." you said, poking his shoulder with a pout. "You’re, like, ridiculously handsome, right?"

Kento froze mid-sip, his ears instantly turning as pink as your sweater. "W–what?"

"I mean it! You’re so... ugh…." you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, his voice soft, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Like you’re trying not to smile, but your eyes are giving you away." you teased, your grin widening as you poked his cheek this time.

Nanami Kento could feel his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. Every word you spoke chipped away at his usual composure, and he could feel himself unraveling under the weight of your drunken admiration. In just this moment, you wholly outwit him. You make him come undone. Only you can have that effect on him. Only you. 

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" he muttered, trying to look away, but you caught his chin, turning his face back to yours.

"Admit it already, won’t you?" you said, your voice lower now, but no less playful. "You like me. Maybe even a little too much."

Kento stared at you, the world blurring slightly around the edges, whether from the alcohol or the way you were looking at him, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to do it like this. He didn’t want to put up his hopes that you would be sober enough to know the truth. Or for you to have sober truths pouring out of your sharp grinning lips. 

"I think…" he began, his voice steady but his heart anything but.

“You think?”

"I’m falling for you. More and more. Every second."

You blinked at what had just shifted in the air, your teasing expression softening as you processed his words. Then, to his surprise, you smiled—not mischievously this time, but gently, sweetly. Full with a merry drink, you smiled.

"Good." you whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the faint sweetness of the sake on your breath. "You said really good words.”

Kento barely had time to breathe before you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving his face on fire and his heart completely, utterly yours. Kento froze, the warmth of your lips lingering on his cheek like a brand. His breath hitched as your words sank into the alcohol-drenched air between you. 

“I think I’m already there.”

He stared at you, his usually composed mind now an unsteady swirl of emotions—exhilaration, disbelief, and a flicker of hesitation. Your gaze was soft, dreamy, and undeniably sincere, but the alcohol in your system clouded everything. He said it out loud. But are you sure? How could you be, with how merry the drink is in your belly?

"You don’t mean that." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loud would shatter the fragile moment.

"I do. I do." you said, your expression serious despite the light flush of intoxication on your cheeks. You reached for his hand, holding it with a gentle firmness that made his heart stumble in its rhythm.

Kento's fingers curled instinctively around yours before he could stop himself, but his grip was careful, steady. "You're drunk. I just…you can’t say that drunk." he pointed out, his voice more tender than reprimanding.

You frowned, tilting your head like you were trying to understand him through the haze. "So? That doesn’t mean it’s not true."

He sighed, looking down at your joined hands. He wanted so desperately to believe you, to let his heart leap completely into your words, but his rational side, his ever-present voice of reason. It held him back.

"It matters. It matters to me." he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. "If you mean it, I need to hear it when you’re sober. When you’re sure."

"But I am sure, Kento." you insisted, leaning closer, your warmth almost overwhelming him. Your free hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and he felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush.

Kento shook his head, his smile faint but aching with restraint. "Not like this." he murmured. "You’ll wake up tomorrow and—"

"And what? Pretend this didn’t happen?" you interrupted, your brows knitting together. "Do you think I’d forget how much I lo—"

His hand shifted, gently pressing a single finger to your lips to quiet you, though it was more for his sake than yours. He wasn’t sure he could take it, hearing those words from you while your judgment was fogged.

"Stop. Please." he said, his voice barely steady. "Don’t say it now. Not tonight."

Your eyes searched hisfrustration flickering in their depths before softening. You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way he looked at you like he was holding back an ocean of feelings.

"You're such a romantic, aren’t you?" you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice as a lazy smile spread across your face.

He gave a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against your cheek now without realizing it. "Maybe." he admitted, his tone gentler than ever. "But I want this—want us—to start right. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me again."

You let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as your eyelids grew heavy. You always liked this, taking in his warmth. You don’t think there was any other place you belonged in but his arms.

If you were being honest, you were afraid. He was right. Your words could mean something, and maybe it wouldn’t be as clear as his own. You were drunk. You were really drunk. And feels hazy in your head. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to your Kento. Not like this.

"Fine." you murmured, your words slurring slightly. "But you’d better be ready for me to say it a hundred times tomorrow. Maybe a thousand."

Kento chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest, as he rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I’ll be ready." he promised, even as his own heart thudded wildly at the thought. “I’m always waiting for you. Always.”

And as you drifted off, still clutching his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, Kento silently vowed to himself: when the time came, he’d tell you how deeply, how completely he felt for you too. He just needed to be sure you knew what it meant.

The morning after that night, you woke up on Kento's couch, the faint remnants of sake lingering in the air. Your head throbbed lightly, and your memories were fuzzy around the edges. Kento, ever thoughtful, had left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you.

"Rough night?" he asked from the kitchen, his voice steady but carefully neutral as he busied himself making coffee.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "What did I even say last night? I barely remember anything."

He hesitated, his hand tightening briefly on the handle of the coffee pot. He looked over at you, your half-asleep face free of the weight of your drunken confessions. For a moment, he considered saying something, but the words got caught in his throat.

"Nothing too embarrassing," he said instead, forcing a faint smile.

You laughed, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Good. I’d hate to think I made a fool of myself in front of you."

Kento gave a small nod, but his heart felt heavy. You didn’t remember, and he couldn’t bring himself to remind you. Not like this. So, he lets himself break apart. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t let you have guilt. Because if he did, how is that loving you?

THINGS DID CHANGE A BIT WHEN YOU WENT TO COLLEGE. Of course, you both got into the same university. But there’s a rough difference between not only being in different departments, but also being in different campuses. It was a rough travel back and forth. But Nanami Kento was determined to go and visit you.

So Nanami Kento buried those words, locking them away where they couldn’t touch the fragile balance between you. He told himself it was better this way. But he hopes, maybe one day — just one day. You’ll see him too. Sober with your love for him.

══════════════════

You often feel a little bad when you look back on those days. Engineering classes were no joke. Too many long hours, grueling projects, and the constant pressure to keep up left you drained most of the time.

You barely had the energy to go out, even when you wanted to. But Kento never minded. He understood in the quiet, steady way that only he could, and instead of waiting for you to have time, he made sure to visit you instead.

It didn’t matter where for him. Whether it was the bustling campus lunch hall, where the two of you would share a plate of something warm while you tried to finish an assignment, or your dorm room, which was always a little messy with textbooks and half-drunk cups of coffee.

What mattered to him wasn’t the place or even what you were doing. What mattered was just being with you.

And that thought? It never fails to make your heart skip a beat. Even now, after everything, it feels just as special as it did back then. You still held dearest to him after all this time. Ever since you were kids, you were his everything. And you were sure, more than ever now, that he was yours too. In all sense of the word.

It’s been a year and a half since that time, since you confessed to Kento. Well, technically, drunk you confessed to him. It was late, and you’d had just enough to drink to make your heart bolder than your brain. You didn’t want to say a word. And you think that Kento was just as much waiting for you to say something.

You were ready to die of embarrassment when you remembered that you had said that. But then you remembered, with just as much horror and embarrassment — he’d confessed too. With that same calm sincerity, he told you he’d felt the same way for a while.

Looking back, it was a little messy, maybe even a lot embarrassing. But it was also sweet, earnest, and so perfect for you two. And honestly? You wouldn’t change a thing. You had said something that clarified things for you.

After all, that drunken confession was the start of something that would make all the challenges of those days worth it, every late-night study session, every coffee-fueled conversation, every stolen moment in between. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You were falling for Kento more and more every day, and it was starting to feel like a problem. A big problem. How were you supposed to act normal around him when everything he did—from the way he fixed his tie to the way he said your name—made your heart do backflips?

It wasn’t fair, really. How was it possible that the same person who once laughed so hard he choked on a piece of rice during lunch was also the one making you reconsider your entire perception of love? He was your best friend, and now you couldn’t even look at him without overthinking every little thing.

And to make matters worse, he was visiting you today.

You had approximately 15 minutes to get your life together before Kento arrived, which was nowhere near enough time to deal with the tornado that was your dorm room or the emotional hurricane swirling inside you.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits.” you muttered to yourself, grabbing stray socks off the floor. “Just play it cool. It’s just Kento. You know him best. Real well. He’s been here a million times. No big deal. Totally normal.”

You shoved a pile of notebooks into your desk drawer, praying it wouldn’t jam, and quickly rearranged the pillows on your bed. By the time you heard the knock at your door, your dorm was passable, well barely. And you were mostly sure you didn’t look like a total disaster.

When you opened the door, there he was, Nanami Kento in all of his huge handsome stature, standing there with his usual calm demeanor, holding a bag of snacks. You yelped quietly as you looked at him. Your roommates must have let him inside. 

“Thought you might need these.” he said, giving you one of those small, knowing smiles that made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked at him. “Nanami Kento, are you a psychic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, but you texted me at 2 AM complaining about running out of your favorite chips, so I figured this might help. You still have some paperwork to do, right? And you won’t eat unless I come by to remind you. So, I got it.”

“Oh.” You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous croak. “Right. Thanks. You’re, uh…you’re a hero.”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Did a tornado hit your room? It was clean last time I came by.”

“What? No!” You crossed your arms defensively. “I cleaned! Mostly.”

Kento gave you a skeptical look before setting the bag of snacks on your desk. “If this is what ‘clean’ looks like to you, remind me never to see it messy.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Careful. That’s my best throw pillow. If you damage it, I’ll charge you emotional damages.”

“Noted, little miss engineer.” he replied, setting the pillow down with exaggerated care. “What’s the rate for emotional damages these days?”

“Depends. How many snacks did you bring?”

“Enough to keep you from suing me.” He tells you with a grin. “Still have some in my car, just in case you wanted more.”

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times. A little bit easy, comfortable, effortless. But then, as Kento sat down on the edge of your bed, something in your chest tightened. How had this annoying, perfect, infuriatingly kind man become someone you couldn’t stop thinking about? Someone you don’t think you could live without?

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“What? No!” You blinked rapidly, your cheeks heating. “I was just—uh—zoning out. Engineering stuff. Very complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right, right.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m definitely not the one who helped you with that last project.”

“Details, details, Nanami Kento. Don’t get bogged down in the details.”

He chuckled, and the sound was so warm and familiar that you almost forgot why you were freaking out in the first place. Almost. Kento takes a moment. He then looks at you as though examining you with careful abandon. Kento wanted to take in the sight of you, after not seeing you for a while.

“You’re weird today, do you know that?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine. Super fine.” You waved a hand dismissively. “Just tired, you know? Engineering. It’s a grind.”

Kento studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your stomach flipped, and you forced a laugh. “Who, me? No way. I’m like…a professional liar. Best in the business.”

“Uh-huh.” He hums back in retort.

He didn’t press further, but the way he looked at you. Everything about his caramel gaze was gentle, understanding, like he already knew what you weren’t saying. Everything about it, everything about him made your heart squeeze.

You sighed internally. How were you supposed to handle this? You couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, Kento, I think I’m in love with you, and it’s driving me absolutely insane!”

But as he opened the bag of snacks and handed you your favorite, you couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, he already knew that you knew. And that maybe he knew that you felt deeply about him. You sighed. Maybe you’re just imagining it.

As the minutes ticked by, Kento made himself right at home in your dorm, sitting cross-legged on your bed and munching on the snacks he’d brought. Meanwhile, you had plopped into your desk chair, scrolling on your phone under the pretense of “taking a break.” 

But in reality, you were desperately trying to distract yourself from the way he looked way too good just casually existing in your space. How could he look that good even as a law major? How can he have time to make your heart feel like this?

As you flicked through your social media feed, you stumbled upon a post that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a picture—Kento, smiling (smiling!) with a group of classmates, apparently from earlier that day. Some of them were girls. Really pretty girls. Those really pretty preppy law girls!

Your first thought was When does Kento even smile like that? He never smiles like that around me!

Your second thought was Who’s the one leaning so close to him? Is she, like, whispering in his ear or something?

You shot a quick, subtle glance at him. He was still on your bed, completely unaware of the emotional spiral you were going through. He crunched on a chip like it was the most normal day in the world.

“Did you have fun today?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Kento raised an eyebrow. “Uh…what?”

“Today. You were with…people from your department.” you said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

His brow furrowed toward you slightly. “I mean, yeah, I had a class project meeting. It was fine. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” you said, voice a little too high-pitched. Fuck, you  were too obvious. You looked back at your phone, scrolling furiously to hide your face. “Just…wondering. Looked fun.”

“Wait.” Kento’s tone shifted. Suddenly you felt his gaze on you. “How do you know about that?”

Your heart dropped. “Uh, I saw it. Online. A picture. No big deal!”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. “Are you…jealous?”

“What?!” Your head whipped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Me? Jealous? Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

Kento’s lips quivered into a rare, brat–like smirk, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “No reason at all.” he said smoothly. “Just seems like you’re a little…interested in what I’m doing when I’m not here.”

“Interested? Pfft, no. I was just—just checking to make sure you’re not hanging out with the wrong crowd.” you stammered, flailing for a decent excuse. “You know, bad influences. Peer pressure. That sort of thing.”

“Right, I see.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m the type to fall victim to peer pressure.”

“Well, I don’t know that part of your life right now!” you snapped, feeling your face heat up. “Maybe one of those girls was trying to…to make you join a pyramid scheme or something!”

Kento leaned back on your bed, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” you shot back, spinning your chair around so you didn’t have to look at him.

There was a rustle of movement, and then suddenly, he was right behind you, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. You could feel your ears redden at the feeling of him. You squeaked, loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re really bad at lying, too. How come you haven’t evolved at lying? It’s been years and somehow, you’re still bad at it.” he said softly, his voice just teasing enough to make your heart race.

You spun around to face him, glaring. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a little jealous. Are you happy now?”

Kento blinked, clearly surprised by your sudden outburst. But then, to your absolute horror, he started laughing—actual, full-on laughing. He hadn’t expected for you to just come out and say it like that. You were a prideful little flower, you always have been. 

“You’re laughing at me?!” you cried, swatting at his arm.

“I’m not laughing at you, you know.” he said, still chuckling. “I just didn’t think you’d actually admit it.”

“Well, I did!” You crossed your arms, trying to look annoyed even as your face burned. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kento’s laughter softened into a small, fond smile, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared. He didn’t know how much he missed you until now. Somehow, the world seemed like it was in proper orbit when he’s with you like this.

“Nothing, nothing.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Because you don’t need to be jealous. If I wanted to spend my time with anyone else, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting as he straightened up and walked back to the bed like he hadn’t just casually wrecked you with one sentence. You looked away, crossing your arms as though to shield yourself from him. But he could still see the redness of your ears.

“Well….” you muttered under your breath, plopping dramatically onto your desk. “Now I’m jealous of myself.”

Kento paused mid-bite of a chip and turned to you with an amused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, sitting up straight like you hadn’t just been caught having an existential crisis.

But of course, Kento being Kento, he wasn’t about to let it slide. “No, no, go ahead.” he said, his smirk returning as he leaned back against the headboard. “Explain how you’re jealous of yourself. This, I have to hear.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Forget I said anything. It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that at all.” he replied, his tone annoyingly smug. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, only to find him watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that made your heart flip all over again. You wanted to throw a pillow at him or maybe yourself—just to get rid of the growing warmth in your chest.

Instead, you grabbed the bag of chips from the desk and walked over to him, shoving it into his hands. “Here. Eat some of the snacks and stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I wasn’t psychoanalyzing you.” he said, popping another chip into his mouth. “But you’re making it very tempting.”

“Unbelievable, Kento.” you muttered, plopping down onto the bed beside him. “This is why I can’t stand you sometimes, you know that?”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “So much so that you admitted to being jealous of people spending time with me. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, grabbing a handful of chips just to give your hands something to do. “Okay, fine, you got me. I was a little jealous. Big deal. You’re my best friend. It’s normal to feel weird about you hanging out with other people, right?”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes studying you closely.

“Yes!” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Because we’re close. And I don’t like sharing, okay? You’ve known that since we met!”

“Hmm, hmm.” he said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer. “So what you’re saying is, you want me all to yourself?”

You choked on your chip, coughing violently as Kento sat back, looking far too pleased with himself. “You—ugh! Don’t say things like that!”

“Why not? I’m just repeating what you said to me.” he replied innocently.

“That is not what I said!”

“Sounded like it to me.”

You glared at him, your face burning. “You’re the worst.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, smiling slightly. “But I’m your worst.”

And just like that, you were done for. Completely, utterly done for. You threw a pillow at him once again. Because what else could you do to him like that? He wasn’t wrong. Sure enough, he caught it effortlessly, laughing rather softly as he set it down beside him.

“Stop overthinking about it.” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now. “I’m here because I want to be. No one else matters, okay?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” he said simply, reaching into the chip bag again like he hadn’t just made your heart implode for the second time that evening.

And you sat there, staring at him like an idiot, thinking that maybe, just maybe, falling for him wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

══════════════════

IT WAS ONE OF THE RARE OPPORTUNITIES WHERE YOU HAD A DAY OFF. So of course, you took the time to call Kento and ask him to hang out with you. And as usual, all he had said was that short, sure yes and nothing more.

He’d pick you up in thirty minutes, like usual. And of course, Nanami Kento was never late. If anything, he was always ten minutes early. He couldn’t have you waiting, after all.

The bar was warm and lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Kento had decided to spend your day off together, and while the original plan had been something low-key like a café or a bookstore, somehow you’d ended up here, nursing a drink and trying to act normal around him. 

He’d never been here before, but he saw it from across the road and if the cafe or bookstore was closed — an afternoon at a bar wasn’t going to be a bad idea for college kids wanting to have some adventure beyond the campus walls.

Normal. Just normal. Yeah, act like you do. Well, whatever normal looks like to you now.

You could only mentally sigh as your peripheral was only stuck on him more than usual.

As if that was possible when you were utterly, hopelessly in love with the man sitting across from you.

Kento, of course, looked effortlessly composed, like he always did—leaning back in his seat, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his drink. He wasn’t a flashy guy, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it impossible not to stare. And you were staring. Again.

“You’re staring at me again.” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

“I am not!” you shot back, quickly taking a sip of your drink to cover up your flustered state.

“You’ve been doing it all evening.” he continued, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, no.” you muttered, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I was just…zoning out. Thinking about…stuff.”

“Stuff. You sure….about stuff as an excuse?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Yes, stuff.” you said firmly, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He chuckled softly, and you were both annoyed and utterly charmed by the sound. Why did he have to be so effortlessly perfect? It wasn’t fair. You hated how good he is at being everything you love. As you tried to regain your composure, a voice interrupted your thoughts. 

“Hey there, sweetie–pie.” a man said, sliding up to your table with a confident grin. “Mind if I join you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…”

Before you could say anything else, the man pulled up a chair and sat down, clearly not waiting for permission. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. You felt disgusted by the way he looked at you. He wasn’t your type at all. And moreover, he’s creepy as hell.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.” he said smoothly. “You’ve got a great smile.”

“Um, thanks?” you said awkwardly, glancing at Kento.

Kento’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. He sat up a little straighter, his jaw tightening just slightly. Kento’s eyes were glaring hard enough that you could find those eyes were blades cutting you whole.

“So, what’s your name?” the guy asked, ignoring Kento entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Kento beat you to it. 

“She’s not interested in you.” he said flatly, his voice calm but with an edge that made the guy pause.

The man glanced at Kento, raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Person she’s with.” Kento replied smoothly, though his tone made it clear that he wasn’t just a friend. “Who also happens to know she’s too polite to tell you to leave, so I’ll do it for her. What else are you waiting for? Leave.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Kento…jealous?

The man hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to push back, but something about Kento’s steady gaze seemed to make him think twice. With a shrug, he stood up. He wasn’t going to get anything out of you. Lest he wants to get bitten by a tiger waiting to eat him. Well, at least he’s smart about that.

“Alright, alright. No need to get territorial.” He winked at you before walking away.

You shuddered at his wink.

Have men always been weird?

You shake it off quickly, drinking your pint.

You turned to Kento, your cheeks burning. “Territorial? Really?”

Kento shrugged, taking a sip of his drink like nothing had happened. “He was bothering you. I handled it.”

“I could’ve handled it myself, you know.” you said, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you could’ve.” he replied, setting his glass down. “But I didn’t feel like watching you pretend to be polite to someone who clearly couldn’t take a hint.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “But at least you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

You huffed, turning back to your drink. But as you took a sip, you couldn’t help but notice the way Kento’s gaze lingered on you, softer now, like he was trying to gauge your reaction. You drink your pint once again in some somber silence. 

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes.” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Why?”

Kento held your gaze for a long moment before replying. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they can have what’s mine.”

Your brain short-circuited. “W-what?”

He didn’t elaborate, just leaned back in his chair with that same calm composure, as if he hadn’t just wrecked your entire evening with one casual sentence. You stared at him, utterly flustered and more in love than ever, wondering how on earth you were supposed to survive the rest of the night without completely losing your mind.

For the rest of the night, Kento didn’t let you out of his sight. He was subtle about it at first—the way he leaned in whenever someone walked by, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. But as the minutes passed, it became glaringly obvious: Kento was on high alert, and every glance from a stranger only made his protective aura grow stronger.

When a group of guys walked by your table and one dared to look at you a second too long, Kento’s hand dropped from the chair to your shoulder, the weight of it warm and grounding. He didn’t even glance at the guy, his focus entirely on you, but the message was clear: Don’t even try it. Back off.

You tried to act normal, but it was impossible. Sitting beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you were acutely aware of every little thing about him—the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show his forearms, the way his voice dropped into a lower register whenever he spoke to you.

“You’re quiet again.” he said, his voice low as he leaned a fraction closer.

“I’m fine, Kento. Really.” you mumbled, staring into your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Liar.” he murmured, his tone edged with amusement. “You’ve been squirming all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, but the way your voice cracked didn’t help your case.

Kento just smirked, and that was the last straw. You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Not alone, you’re not.” he said immediately, rising from his seat with an ease that made you want to throw something.

“What, are you my bodyguard now?” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his possessive tone.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” he said simply, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Before you could argue, he took your hand—firm, unrelenting—and led you toward the exit.

“Kento, the bathroom’s that way.” you pointed out, trying to tug your hand free.

“We’re leaving.” he said without looking back.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I’m done watching people think they can look at you like you’re up for grabs.” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your protests died in your throat. Nanami Kento rarely raised his voice or lost his composure, but there was something in his tone now. It was something raw and unmistakable. And every bit of it just left you speechless.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. When he pulled into a quiet, empty lot, he turned off the engine and finally looked at you. His gaze was dark, intense, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kento, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.” he said, his tone low and rough. “You’re what’s going on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit there and pretend I’m okay with watching other people look at you like they have a chance?”

Your breath hitched. “I… I didn’t think you—”

“Didn’t think I’d care?” he interrupted, leaning closer. “Didn’t think I’d notice? God, you drive me insane, you know that?”

“Kento…”

“You’re mine.” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’ve always been mine. You always have been since we were kids. I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it out loud again.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I— I….I know.” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I thought you wouldn’t say it again and I just…maybe with time passing… I thought I was the only one now.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost predatory smile. “You’re not. Never. Not when I’ve marked you since we met at that playground when we were kids.”

Before you could process his words, Kento leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was animalistic, it was wanton. It was full of possessiveness, claiming, as if he were branding the truth into you.

You matched his intensity, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and any hesitation you’d felt earlier melted away, replaced by a burning need that had been building for far too long.

He broke away just long enough to murmur against your lips, “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute.

“You belong with me.”

You looked at him with your doe like eyes. “I belong with you.”

“Good.” he growled, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His hands gripped your waist firmly, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “Because I’m done holding back.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

And he didn’t.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS HUNGRY FOR YOU. But with the way he’s going at it. Kento has been hungry for you for a very long time. Kento’s lips linger, soft and insistent, as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The warmth of his breath trails higher, leaving behind a delicate ache where his mouth was. His hands rest firmly on your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re trembling.” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone, teasing but laced with tenderness. He looks up, his gaze heavy with desire, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he speaks. “Do I make you nervous?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, betraying your composure. “Not nervous... just—” Your words cut off as he presses another kiss, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone low and deliberate, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. His hands slide upward, thumbs drawing small circles that make your heart race.

“Kento.” you breathe his name like a plea, your voice catching as he moves closer, the space between you charged with electricity.

The dim glow of the streetlamp filters through the windshield, casting golden lines across his sharp features. The intimacy of the confined space amplifies every touch, every sound between the two of you in these leather seats. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of his breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh.

“I love when you say my name like that, you know?” he says, voice dark and velvety. His mouth moves with purpose now, leaving faint marks of love on your skin, each one deliberate, each one staking his claim. “I love hearing it like that. Wanton f’r me.”

You gasp, your head falling back against the car seat, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending heat coursing through you. How has he ever been this good at getting under your skin?

“I want to hear more from you.” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a mix of command and yearning. His lips hover for a moment, teasing you with their proximity. “But only if you’re ready.”

Kento’s lips trail higher, each kiss softer yet more possessive, leaving warmth that lingers long after his mouth moves on. He pauses for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as his hands tighten slightly on your thighs, his thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles.

“Don’t hold back your noises from me, okay?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing through you. He looks up, his golden-brown eyes locking with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I want to hear you clearly.”

The command in his tone makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip, but the sound escapes anyway, a soft, breathy whimper that only seems to spur him on. Kento’s touch made you feel as though a thousand flames were burning all at once.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and he chuckles darkly when your hips shift involuntarily toward him.

“Kento.” you gasp, your voice trembling with both restraint and longing.

“Hm?” he hums against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through you. “I told you—no holding back.” 

His hands glide upward, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth continues its slow, maddening journey lower and lower. You could feel your lips mutter a weak groan against him. 

The dim light of the streetlamp catches the sheen of his messy blond hair, illuminating the faint smile on his lips as he drinks in every reaction you give him. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, the world outside the car fading entirely.

“Kento, please.” you whisper, your voice raw with need, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath ghosting over you. He takes in the sight of you, almost as though a hunter to a prey. Nanami Kento is your hunter, he always has been. And he’s been keeping this inside him for way too long. This desire, for you. Only you.

“That’s what I wanted to hear from you.” he murmurs, his tone dark and full of promise, before pressing another kiss, softer this time, but no less consuming.

Kento’s words hang in the air, thick with authority and desire, as his lips return to your skin with renewed purpose. He’s slow, methodical, as if every kiss, every graze of his teeth is a language only he can speak—and you’re utterly fluent in his meaning.

“Such sweet sounds from you, hm?” he murmurs against your thigh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through you. “Don’t hold them back from me. Let me hear what I do to you.”

Your breath hitches, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and the way his lips curl into a grin tells you he’s satisfied—but not done. His hands are firm but gentle as they slide further up your inner thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you want him most. 

His touch sets your skin alight, the heat pooling low in your stomach as your chest rises and falls in uneven rhythm. You could feel his long fingers making their journey to that space, their cool touch melting you whole in a pleasurable moan.

“Kento.” you whisper, barely able to find your voice, your hands trembling as they clutch at the seat beneath you.

He glances up, his caramel eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlight streaming through the windshield, giving him an almost otherworldly allure. His gaze is dark, hungry, but there’s a softness there too. There was that endless reverence in the way he looks at you, as though you’re something precious.

“Yes, my love?” he asks, his voice laced with feigned innocence, though the smirk pulling at his lips betrays him. Your heart drummed at your new nickname from him. It was real. You were lovers. Doing what lovers do. “Tell me what you need. I want to hear it.”

You let out a shaky exhale, your fingers threading into the lower depths of sandy blond undercut for stability as much as desperation. Slowly, it trailed down on his neck, your touch sleuthing through him. Temptingly, almost like a wanting vixen.

“I need you… closer.” you admit, voice breaking, the vulnerability of the words making heat rise to your cheeks.

Kento hums in approval, the sound low and pleased at your words. He leans closer and his fingers echo deeper and deeper into you. Your head throws back hard against the leather’s pristine touch. He playfully moves inside. One moment in a circle. One moment a thrust. Over and over again, rinse and repeat, force and pleasure. And all you could do was surrender.

“Good girl of mine, my love.” he murmurs, his praise sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. 

That had surely made you even more wet inside. His lips press higher against your jaw, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He continues on and on. You don’t know where he learned it. How he got so good at knowing how to take you to paradise. BUt you could hardly care. You were focused on how deep his fingers were in you. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, my love.” he continues, his voice velvet against the charged air. His hands grip your thighs tighter, pulling them apart just enough for him to settle more firmly between them. “Completely undone for me.”

A sound escapes you, part moan, part plea, and his response is immediate. There was a broken groan deep in his chest as he nuzzled against you, the vibrations of his voice making your whole body tremble and shake as  he rushed more and more, in and out, with his masterful fingers.

“That’s it. Go on, my love.” he breathes, his voice dark, dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go for me, honey. No one else is here. Just us. Just me and the way you fall apart under my touch.”

The world outside the car feels impossibly distant now. The soft flicker of the streetlamp, the faint hum of passing cars. It’s all drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat and the way Kento’s lips, and his fingers worship every part of you they touch, in and out.

“Kento, Kento.” you gasp again, your voice a desperate whisper.

His name on your lips seems to be his motivation, pushing more and more as his fingers tighten inside of you as he shifts closer, his movements becoming more deliberate, more consuming. You could only feel your tears rush in pleasurable waterfalls on your cheek.

“Say it again, my love.” he demands softly, his lips grazing the edge of your hip. “Say my name like that again.”

And when you do, your voice trembling and raw, and broken — he lets out a sound that’s pure need, his control slipping as he loses himself in you entirely. His fingers dug deeper and deeper until they couldn’t anymore. Your slick brushing through his fingers as he repeats it over and over again.

Kento’s name spills from your lips again, breathless and aching, and he growls softly against your skin. There was a sound that sent a ripple of heat straight to your core. You cry out loudly as you come undone on his touch, so hard that you see stars. 

“You’re trembling so much, my love.” he murmurs, his voice molten and rich. “Is it because of me, hm?”

His fingers slowly exit through your crevices, slick and full of you. He looks satisfied with the mess he made of you. It doesn’t matter if you pool your pleasure on his leather seats. The sight was satisfying to look at. Because you’re his. And this was proof.

Your answer is a shaky exhale, your head falling back against the seat as your hazy gaze saw him slowly eat at the slick of your pleasure. You had just come undone from his touch and now you could feel yourself wanting more. You were wanton for more. Only he could make you feel this way.

“Words in full, my love.” he coaxes, his tone teasing but firm. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Kento.” you admit, voice breaking as you finally surrender to his command. “It’s you—only you.It’s always been you.”

And with that, he kisses you as he finds himself wanting more of you, as much as you wanted more of him. You gave him everything, and he gave you everything. You wanted to be whole, consumed by the existence of the other.

The air thickens with desire as his touch shifts from lingering to deliberate, the rhythm between you growing more urgent.  You brace yourself, your body trembling in anticipation, and then, with a careful, controlled movement, he enters you. 

A sharp inhale catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to the edge of something deeper, something more consuming. Your body trembles in the wholeness of him. 

He began to move at a slow pace and then soon enough, with that eager speed. Your legs crossed against his back, and your arms crossed against his shoulders. You could only hold on for dear life as he pushes in and out of you in a pace that took your breath away.

Every inch of him stretches you, each motion slow yet intentional, designed to leave you breathless, wanting more. Kento’s gaze never leaves yours, intense and searching, as though he’s reading the unspoken desires written in the way your body responds. The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse quicken, your limbs aching with the need to surrender to him entirely.

Everything felt so good.

He made you feel good.

Only he could do it like this.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, almost reverent, as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. 

There’s a softness in his caramel eyes, a tenderness beneath the storm of desire that mirrors the vulnerability you feel. His breath is heavy, and yet there’s a careful concern in his touch, as if he's trying to read you, to make sure you're ready for what comes next.

You nod, but words fail you, the overwhelming sensations clouding your ability to speak. Every inch of your being is attuned to him now, to the heat of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, yet all that fills your senses is him. The scent of him, the taste of his skin, the press of his chest against yours. Your slick blending against his own. It was all consuming. How you both fit together. How you were made for each other.

"More, Kento." you whisper, the word barely audible but laced with desperation. It’s not just a plea. No, you were saying it as it is. “Faster.”

You needed him. Every bit of him, every part of him. You wanted it all. The craving in your voice is clear, raw, and unfiltered. The desire that had been simmering between you both is now an undeniable force, impossible to resist.

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and something in his gaze shifts, darkens. Without breaking eye contact, he presses forward again, moving with an intensity that speaks of his own growing hunger. His movements are deliberate and calculated, even with the speed he was going at. 

It was as if  he was savoring every inch, every moment with you. Each stroke is measured, calculated, and yet there's an undercurrent of urgency, as though he's trying to pull you deeper into him, deeper into this shared space where only the two of you exist.

His gaze is intense, a silent communication passing between you both. It's not just about the way he moves or the way he touches you. Everything about it felt like magic. It's how he reads every subtle shift in your body, every small intake of breath, every whisper of need. 

He’s attuned to you in a way that goes beyond words, understanding the unspoken pleas you can't voice. It’s like he knows you better than you do yourself. It’s like he’s memorized every part of you. He just knew how to love you whole, completely.

You cried out as he hit that pleasure spot, in and out. The car windows were fogging up with the hot breath echoing out of your lips over and over again. You were certain that just as much, people had noticed the car shaking and rearing with activity at the stop. It was too obvious to see.

The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse race, that quickens the rhythm of your heart. You feel it in the way your body responds, how the pressure inside you grows with every shift, every stroke, until it feels like the world is narrowing down to just the two of you. You both were lost in this rhythm of connection, of craving, of surrender. This was all that there was, this universe of you, together.

Your body aches with the need to give in completely, to let him take you fully, to become lost in the feeling of him, of the shared moment. He looked at you and leaned forward, letting his lips take yours. His tongue pushes through against your own in a delicious melee of pleasure. You hummed against his lips as his thrusts got deeper, faster. More desperate. 

When he parts from you to gather air in his lungs, he slows for a bit and pulls out, earning a whine. But then in a steady shock, he pushes back in, his hands straying to your back, pulling you closer to him. It was as though he wanted you to melt and blend with his flesh. To become one. He thrusts deeper and deeper, harsher than before. You cry out against his ear. 

"Let go, my love." he murmurs, his voice a low, breathy whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve got you." 

There’s an assurance in his words, a promise that you can surrender, that he’ll be there to catch you, to guide you through whatever comes next. And with those words, everything inside you snaps. The tension, the anticipation, the desire. 

Everything unravels in a wave of release, a deep, consuming surrender. You cry out so loud that you think that you were gasping for air for the first time. Nanami Kento hit on your body with a harsh desire last time and felt his own hot pleasure flow through you with a loud roar.

Your body trembles beneath his touch as you lose yourself in him, the rhythm of his movements pulling you deeper into the moment, into the raw intensity of it all. Your grip on him tightens involuntarily, fingers digging into the hardness of his skin, anchoring yourself to the sensation of him. 

Each breath comes quicker, more erratic, as you struggle to keep up with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your eyes flutter closed, and a few tears escape, blurring your vision. But the tears are not from pain. They are from the overwhelming satisfaction, the complete surrender of everything you’d been holding back.

For a moment, you can’t see anything, your body entirely consumed by the sensations coursing through you. It’s like you’ve been plunged into a haze, where nothing exists but the pulse of his touch, the heat of his body against yours. You feel your senses heighten, every movement, every sound reverberating inside you, making your heart race.

And then, slowly, your sight begins to return. Everything is foggy, distorted at first, the edges of the world softened by the force of your pleasure. But as the fog clears, everything sharpens, every detail comes into focus. 

And in that moment, it feels like you’ve stepped into something infinite. The universe itself is laid bare before you, and standing at the center of it all, consumed by the same overwhelming force, is him. Everything felt like enlightenment. Life started here.

Kento’s eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense, holding you captive with every glance, every word unspoken. His face, usually so composed, is now etched with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, his own breath coming in ragged pulls. You are drawn to him, to the way he fills every corner of your mind, your heart, your body.

"You're... breathtaking, my love." he murmurs, his voice rough, barely audible as he moves against you, his hands cradling your face gently. "So beautiful, at this moment."

The words make your heart ache, the vulnerability in his tone striking you deeply. Your gaze never wavers from his, even as the pleasure inside you begins to coil again, threatening to pull you under once more. It’s not just his touch, not just the way he moves inside you. It’s the way he sees you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only one who matters in the world.

"You’re mine. You always will be." you whisper, your voice trembling with the truth of it. The words come from somewhere deep, primal, raw. You don’t even know where they’ve come from, only that they’re true. 

“Am I really?” He snickers, pecking at your jaw with small peppering kisses with exhaustion.

You nodded shyly, smiling at him. "I need you... like this. Always."

Kento smiles at your confession. His grip tightens around you, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss, almost reverent. For a moment, it was like he’d fallen in love with you again for the very first time again.

"And you have me, my love." he responds, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me. Always."

[steddiealltheway]

As soon as Steve hears the phone ring, he sighs.

Robin is away visiting her family in Kentucky for the holidays, and the only other person to ever call would be...

"Dustin," Steve says, his free hand coming up to rest on his hip, "why are you calling?"

There's a pause on the other line before Dustin whines, "How do you always know when it's me."

"Because your irritating energy bleeds through the phone."

Another pause. "You got that from Robin, didn't you?"

Yes. He did. Sue him for wanting to be witty and taking a few notes from Robin. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so..." Oh boy. "I've been meaning to talk to Suzie for a while now, and we made plans not to talk on Christmas because she would be with her family all day, and I knew my mom wouldn't want me to be away for too long so-"

"The point, Dustin."

Dustin mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like multiple curse words before continuing, "The point is that I'm taking Cerebro to that hill, but I'm going to need a ride."

Steve frowns, walking toward the nearest window until the phone cord is fully stretched so he can pull a curtain open. He winces a bit at the bright light. "Dustin, it's freezing out, and the hill will be covered in snow."

"You would've done the same for Nancy!"

Steve's eyebrows raise. "Not the best approach if you want a ride, dude."

"I'm not trying to approach the whole you and Nancy thing. I'm trying to make a point," Dustin emphasizes a little too loudly into the phone. "You would do anything if you were in love! Even sit out in the snow for a few hours just so you can talk to the person you love."

"Have you ever heard of the phone?"

"Have you heard the number of siblings she has that would jump at the opportunity to listen in on our call? Plus, Cerebro is our thing."

Steve really wishes Dustin were in front of him, so he could see the way his cheeks are flushing during this exact moment. "You just like using your Cebro thing because it makes it feel like your love is forbidden."

"I do not!"

"Alright, Romeo," Steve says with a laugh, "I'll give you a ride. If you promise to only be there for an hour."

"Not including the time it takes to get there, set it up, and leave."

Steve sighs and knocks the phone against his head for a second before reluctantly agreeing, "Yes, but you better be bundled up so much that you're sweating out there. I don't want to hear you complain." He also secretly worries about the kid getting frostbite or something, but he'd never admit to it.

"Fine I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Steve says as Dustin hangs up. "A thank you would've been nice..."

He really hopes he doesn't regret this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dustin climbs in the car, he's bundled from head to toe but still manages to laugh at Steve who is wearing the same amount of layers as him. "Look in the mirror," Steve comments dryly before driving off.

The drive there isn't too long, and although Steve saw Dustin a few days ago - after Claudia insisted he spend Christmas with them instead of home alone - he's kind of glad to hang out with Dustin again. It's not often he gets a lot of one-on-one time with the kid anymore.

Which is why Steve is particularly bitchy when he pulls up to the familar area below the hill and find a familar van there.

"Dustin..."

"I didn't think you would agree to take me here and stay! So, I asked Eddie to give me a ride back this morning-"

"This morning?"

"And he said he was already going to be in the area and wanted to briefly meet Suzie and my Cerebro, so he's here now! And if you want, you can just drop me off. Think of it as a late Christmas gift."

Steve shakes his head. "And leave you in Munson's capable hands only to find out you two froze to death? No thanks." He gets out of the car with thoughts of a mourning Claudia Henderson on his mind.

"We wouldn't freeze to death!" Dustin practically shouts as he climbs out.

At that same moment, Eddie exits from his van, wearing his usual attire, only with maybe an extra added layer - a leather jacket.

Steve turns to Dustin, raising his eyebrows and gesturing toward Munson. Dustin sighs before going to the trunk to dig out all the different Cerebro parts.

Before Steve can join him, Eddie approaches him with a big smile. "Steve Harrington. Looking awfully toasty."

Steve rolls his eyes in response before openning his car door and reaching toward the back, grabbing the spare pair of gloves and a hat that he keeps whenever Robin forgets the extra layers - which is often. He hands them to Eddie without a word then helps Dustin grab his things before heading to their snow covered destination.

Eddie only lasts a few minutes up the hill before he manages to push into Steve's space while Dustin hurries ahead of them. "So, you look happy to see me."

"Just peachy, Munson."

Eddie snorts. "I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I would be tagging along when you got here?"

"And I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I was planning on staying."

"Actually," Eddie says, nudging Steve's shoulder, "I told him you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with him, and there was no way you would drop him off to freeze to death."

Steve narrows his eyes as he looks at Eddie.

Eddie shifts things around in his arms to grab his shirt and jacket and lift them up enough to show off some of his scarred skin. "Our matching battle scars will forever bound us, Steve. I wonder if the bats gave us telepathic abilities," he says, way too cheery for Steve's liking.

"If it did, then I would teleport up to the top of the hill right now."

"Telepathic means the ability to read each other's minds. The word you're thinking of is 'teleportation.'" Eddie corrects him without judgement - something Steve's always found surprising.

"Oh. Then guess what I'm thinking about right now."

Eddie hums before leaning in to mumble in his ear. "You're thinking about getting a piece of this."

Steve laughs and shoves him away. He's glad it's cold out so he blame his blush on the cold. For some reason, he's still not entirely immune to Eddie's flirting. "Definitely not what I was thinking about."

"You are now," Eddie teases.

Steve swallows heavily, pressing down those thoughts and many... many.... images. "I think you're confusing my thoughts for your own thoughts."

"Tell me about it," Eddie sighs dramatically.

Steve is relieved when he sees they've reached the top of the hill. He's even more relieved when Dustin doesn't ask for his help to put Cerebro together, but Eddie is all too happy to help while calling Dustin a genius - in various annoying, dramatic ways.

It's not long before Dustin is awaiting Suzie's response while Eddie bounces on his feet. Steve's not sure if it's from excitement or being cold - probably both.

"Dusty bun?"

Dustin's face lights up in a way that is entirely too endearing for Steve's heart to handle. The jedi has learned the art of love from the master - or something like that. "Suzie poo! I'm here with Steve and Eddie for the next few moments. Eddie wants to say hello."

Steve frowns and raises his voice, "I want to say hello, too! Eddie just wants to be dramatic about it."

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the lady," Eddie argues before turning up the charm. "Suzie, it's a pleasure. I'm sure you've heard nothing but wonderful things about me just like I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Unlike Steve over here who you've probably never heard a good thing about."

"Hi, Eddie, it's nice to meet you," Suzie replies, giggling. "And hi Steve!"

"Hey, Suze. Don't let Eddie win you over with his charm just yet. It's bad for his ego."

"You think I'm charming?" Eddie asks, batting his eyelashes.

Steve makes a see? gesture before realizing Suzie can't see him.

"Alright," Dustin says, "Now they're going to leave us alone for the next hour."

"Hour? It's already been at least five minutes," Steve complains.

Eddie grabs him by the shoulders and steers him away. "Don't worry, Suzie! I'll make sure you get the fulll hour!"

Steve lets Eddie guide him a little down the hill, ignoring when Suzie asks, "Do they always bicker like an old married couple?"

When they get a comfortable distance away, where they're out of earshot but Steve can still see Dustin to make sure he doesn't freeze to death, Steve sits on the ground. He glances up after he gets as comfortable as he can get on the side of a hill, only to find Eddie frowning down at him.

"What?" Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. "Doesn't seem fair that you get to sit on the ground, and I can't."

Steve's eyes scan over Eddie's body. "Not my fault that you didn't wear a long enough jacket to cover your ass when you sit."

"Not my fault that I wasn't born into a wealthy family that can afford those jackets."

Steve's stomach flips, but he knows Eddie isn't looking for an apology. "Why don't you sit in your van then?"

"Wouldn't want to miss my chance to hang out alone with Steve Harrington," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve nearly scoffs and gives him a snarky reply, but his thoughts go out the window when he notices Eddie's teeth chattering. "Shit," he mutters.

"What was that?"

Steve groans and stands up before unzipping his large jacket.

"Am I in a dream?" Eddie jokes, but his voice shakes a bit.

"You're about to be living one," Steve says dryly as he stands in front of Eddie and opens his coat. Eddie just stares at him. Steve huffs out a breath that becomes visible in the cold air between them. "Come here."

"What?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie before tugging at his coat. But Eddie continues to stare at him with wide wandering eyes. "I'm not letting you freeze to death up here, so come here before I tell Dustin to pack it up because you're cold."

Eddie crosses his arms a little tighter. "I'm f-fine." A shiver visibly runs through Eddie's body.

Steve rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundreth time this day and wraps Eddie in his jacket before he can protest.

He's stiff for a moment, then Eddie relaxes enough to wrap his arms around Steve who is able to close the jacket around them. They linger in each other's arms long enough that Eddie stops shivering and Steve wonders how much time Dustin has left with Suzie.

"Better?" Steve asks to break the silence.

He feels Eddie nod over his shoulder before he pulls back enough to look him in the eye, nose brushing against Steve's as he whispers, "I know something we could do to keep ourselves warm."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest.

Eddie laughs and tucks his head into Steve neck, his lips far away enough from Steve's that it's no longer the only thing on Steve's mind. With the new brain space, he can feel Eddie drum a nervous rhythm onto his back and bounce a little on his face. He wonders if maybe Eddie was onto the whole scars making them read each other's minds thing because he swears he knows the first part of what Eddie's about to say before he says it.

"Sorry if that was too much. No guy has ever let me flirt at them the way you do."

Steve gets stuck on flirt at and, "No guy?"

Eddie lets out a short humorless laugh. "No guy."

And for some reason, Steve has to ask, "Has any guy let you kiss them before?"

Eddie pulls back to look at him with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are you getting at, Steve?"

Steve glances at Eddie's lips, slightly chapped but they've never looked more inviting. Maybe it's time to listen to Robin's knowing looks whenever Eddie is around and Steve finds himself simultaneously drawn to him while also wanting to run to the bathroom with Robin to have another floor talk. "What if one guy let you kiss them?"

"Steve..." Eddie whispers, his eyes flicking over his shoulder.

Steve turns to find Dustin, facing away from them. Still he loosens his hold on Eddie and says, "Wrap your arms around my neck instead of my back."

Eddie does as he's told, and Steve gives him no warning before saying, "Hopefully this goes alright." Then, he slightly picks up Eddie before falling back, letting the snow break their fall as he lays back with Eddie on top of him.

"That went better than I thought it would," Steve says with a big smile then asks, "Can Dustin see us?"

Eddie glances up and shakes his head.

"Perfect," Steve says, heart practically beating out of his chest when Eddie looks down at him. When he doesn't make a move, Steve can't help but tease, "So you really are all bark, no bite."

"Shut up, Harrington," Eddie says before finally kissing him.

For only a moment, Steve nearly laughs at the fact that Eddie Munson told him to shut up. But then his brain goes nearly haywire yet completely silent when Eddie's lips meet his in what he thinks might be the single most transformative kiss of his life.

His arms tighten around Eddie's back, and Eddie's hands move to cup the back of his head as they deepen the kiss. Somehow, laying in snow, Steve has never felt warmer.

They eventually break the first kiss reluctantly, both of them going back to steal more as they catch their breath, which turns into laughter and giggles between more kisses. Then, Eddie breaks away long enough to say, "You know, the van is seeming like a really great option at the moment."

"And Dustin's a smart kid. He knows how to not freeze to death," Steve says, kissing Eddie every chance he gets.

"You're right. No need to stay here in the snow," Eddie replies.

"Right."

Neither of them make a move to get up, but they both move to kiss again.

It's only a little while later before they hear Dustin yell out, "Guys?" And that's when they finally break away.

Eddie pops up first and calls out, "Yeah?"

"Let's pack up! It's been over an hour! Come on!"

Steve pulls Eddie back down into the snow one more time for a kiss before stomping up the hill. "Alright, alright. We thought you'd be happier that we gave you more time and that we both waited for you."

"it's cold," Dustin complains.

Steve nods, but he still feels warm.

Eddie joins a few moments later, stealing glances at Steve before asking Dustin what they're doing next.

"I'm thinking we change out of our snow clothes and get food somewhere maybe..." Dustin trails off and frowns at Eddie. "Why are you covered in snow?"

"We were making a snow angel?" Eddie hurriedly says.

Steve tries not to laugh.

"One?" Dustin asks.

Eddie nods. "You'll see it on the way down."

Sure enough, on the way down, they all see one horribly disfigured snow angel.

While Steve laughs and Eddie smiles proudly, Dustin shakes his head and mutters something like more curses to himself. In a volume that's able to be picked up by the other boys, he asks, "Eddie, you'll drop me off at my house, and we'll meet back up in an hour at my house?"

"Hour and a half," Steve says. When Dustin opens his mouth to complain, Steve explains, "I need to take a shower so I don't get pnemonia. Plus, I'm not letting my hair freeze on my way to your house."

"Fine," Dustin sighs. "See you then."

"See you then," Eddie echoes to Steve, winking at him once.

Soon after Steve gets home, he hears a knock on the front door, and when it's Eddie on the other side, Steve pulls him in and says, "Maybe you were right about the telek- tele-"

"Telekentic abilities?"

Steve nods as he closes the door behind Eddie and traps him against it. "I definitely know what you're thinking about now."

Eddie cocks his head to the side and wraps his arms around Steve's neck. "Yeah? What am I thinking about?"

"Kissing me again," Steve says, leaning in.

"Actually," Eddie says turning his head away, "I was thinking about a lemon."

"Crazy. I happen to have lemon scented body wash," Steve comments as he grabs Eddie's hands and tugs him up the stairs.

They're both a little late to Dustin's house. And maybe their hair freezes a bit.

But Dustin was right. There's a lot of things Steve would do for love.

[flemingology]

V is very, very extraordinary ─ alexia putellas x reader

part 3 of my l-o-v-e miniseries. full masterlist here!

in which: you always held back from being intimate with Alexia, but when you confess about your past all she wants is to show you is how much better she can be

warnings: relatively vague mentions about a past toxic relationship, very soft very fluffy smut (18+), fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving), dirty talk, language, yk all the good stuff

wc: 8k

an: not proofread, bc i had to slave away to get this done in time. but enjoy the filth, my dudes

The evening had been easy, the kind of night that made your chest feel full in the best way. Alexia had insisted on cooking dinner for you, even though she’d just come back from a grueling training session. She claimed it relaxed her, but you knew it was mostly her way of showing love without words.

The apartment smelled faintly of garlic and fresh herbs, remnants of the pasta she’d made. You’d stayed by her side as she cooked, sipping wine and laughing at her exaggerated frustration whenever she dropped something or couldn’t find the right utensil. It was quiet and intimate, a reminder of how good things were between you.

After dinner, the two of you had migrated to the couch. You’d leaned into her side, her arm draped over your shoulders as some show played in the background. You weren’t really watching it. Your attention was mostly on her, on the way she absentmindedly traced circles on your arm, on the way her lips quirked up whenever you made a teasing comment.

The hours passed in a blur, the city outside fading into the background as you got lost in eachother. It wasn’t until she stretched and mumbled something about heading up to bed that the mood shifted.

Now, standing against the closed door of your bedroom, you were all too aware of how close she was. Her hands slid to your waist as she murmured something in Spanish you didn’t quite catch, her voice low and full of intent. “Hmm?” You managed to ask, your breath hitching as her lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I said you’re too tempting for your own good,” she murmured, her hands sliding under your shirt, the warmth of her palms a stark contrast to the cool air of the bedroom. She pulled you closer, her hips flush against yours as her lips found the exposed skin of your neck.

You exhaled shakily, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as she murmured your name against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbled, getting out the words in between kisses against your neck. Her lips moved lower, and her hands started roaming with more intent. She was steady but unhurried, her movements deliberate. You felt the tension in your body unfurl, the sheer presence of her overwhelming you in the best way possible.

But then it hit; a cold and sharp flash of doubt. Your heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way, your mind replaying images of your past.

“Alexia…”, you said softly, your voice wavering, your hands moving to still hers.

She froze instantly, her brow furrowing as she leant back just enough to look at you. The sight of her was almost enough to bring your walls back down. Her hair was tousled, her lips were kiss-swollen and her eyes held a hazy expression, but you were in your own head too much to turn the situation around. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice laced with concern.

You hated that you made her feel like this was about her. You hated the concerned frown on her face, the way her eyes scanned all over your face, the way you knew she thought she was at fault. She wasn’t. But you didn’t quite know how to tell her everything just yet.

You stepped back a little, the sudden space between the two of you feeling like both a relief and a loss, and you hated the way your mind was playing tricks on you. “I- I don’t know,” you stammered, hating the tears that were prickling in your eyes. “I just… I can’t, Ale.”

The shift in her was immediate. Every ounce of lust and hunger got lost on her, her hands dropping to her sides as she searched your face. “You can’t, or you don’t want to?” She inquired, her voice gentle and far from judgemental. She was too good for you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you said quickly, guilt curling in your stomach. “I do. I really, really do, baby. But it’s just-” you swallowed hard, debating on what to tell her. What you feel comfortable telling her, what your mind will allow you to tell her. “I can’t.”

She tentatively stepped closer again, and you saw a sense of relief wash over her when you let her come closer. “I would never push you into something you’re not ready for. We can take all the time you need. I just need you to tell me what’s going in here.” She tapped lightly against your temple, her tone warm and coaxing, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as you kept your gaze to the floor. “Don’t be sorry, por favor,” she said back, pressing a firm kiss against your forehead and tilting your head back up. If she saw how glossy your eyes were from the unshed tears, she didn’t mention it. And you were grateful for that. She took your hand and led you to the bathroom, where you both got ready for the night, in comfortable silence. The thoughts were running rampant through your mind, ones that had been plaguing you ever since the start of your relationship. But for now, you were going to put them aside. Until the next time they came up.

You got into bed together, Alexia pulling the duvet over both of you. She didn’t waste a second in pulling you close to her, your chest pressed flush against hers as you nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms tightly around you, as if she was trying to shield you from the negative thoughts swirling around your mind. “We’re okay, mi amor. I promise.” She mumbled against the side of your head, pressing a lingering kiss against your temple. 

You nodded against her chest, your breaths evening out as her fingers traced light patterns along your back. The tension in your body slowly ebbed away, and soon, your steady breathing told her you’d drifted off to sleep. But Alexia stayed awake.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind swirling with thoughts she didn’t want to entertain. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. One moment, you’d be there with her, completely present, and the next, you’d pull away as though intimacy with her was too much to bear. She didn’t blame you. She didn’t even think to question your feelings for her. But that didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in.

She tightened her hold on you instinctively, her heart aching with the desire to protect you from whatever was haunting you and from the fear that maybe she wasn’t enough to help you through it.

“Te quiero,” she whispered softly into your hair, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. She pressed a kiss to your crown, hoping that her love would somehow seep into your dreams, even if she couldn’t ease your worries while you were awake.

-

And as much as your girlfriend remained patient, being perfect as always, the situation had to get out of hand one day. And it did, a couple weeks later.

It started with a quiet evening at home, the kind you’d both grown to treasure. The dinner you had cooked still lingered on the table, half-eaten, as the two of you had found yourselves pressed against the kitchen counter, her lips trailing down your neck with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You knew she wasn’t pushing for more. She’d told you multiple times that she would never force you into something she knew you weren’t ready for, she was just being affectionate. Close, really close, but a good kind of close. You had made out countless times, it had gotten quite steamy relatively often, but every time you found yourselves at the edge of the cliff you so desperately wanted to jump down off, to let yourself fall into the deep end where you knew Alexia would be to catch you, the part of your mind that you buried away deep down always seemed to bubble back up again. 

Now, with her hands on your hips and her body pressed flush against yours, heat pooled low in your stomach as you felt the edge of the counter dig into your back. Alexia’s kisses were firm, desperate, her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt like she was seconds away from discarding it entirely. But as much as your body responded to her, the familiar wave of panic bubbled up.

“Alexia, wait,” you managed, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Her movements stilled instantly, her forehead dropping to rest against yours as she caught her breath. “What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now but laced with a tension that hadn’t been there before. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, sensing that this whole situation was getting to her. You hesitated, trying to put words to the swirling emotions inside you, but Alexia’s hands slipped away from your body entirely, her expression guarded.

“This again,” she murmured, stepping back slightly and running a hand through her hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked softly, but you knew what she meant.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It means that every time we get close, you pull away. I don’t push because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but…” She trailed off, her jaw tightening. “But what?” you prompted. You knew what she was pointing at, but you wanted to hear it from herself.

“But it’s getting harder to pretend it doesn’t bother me,” she admitted, her voice wavering just slightly. “I love you, and I’d wait forever if that’s what you needed. But you don’t talk to me about it, and I don’t know how to help you.” Her words hit you like a train. “I’m sorry, Ale, I-”

“You’re always sorry.” You knew this was coming your way. There was only so much time until eventually she would snap, and even though she wasn’t being unreasonable with you, it still hurt you. But could you really blame her?

“But ‘sorry’ doesn’t tell me why. It doesn’t tell me what’s wrong or how we can fix it. I’m trying so hard to be patient, but I’m…” She hesitated, then looked away. “I’m only human. And I want you. I want us to have this.” Her words stung, not because they were unkind but because they were true. You couldn’t blame her for feeling frustrated, couldn’t fault her for wanting what any couple would naturally have, especially after the period of time you’d been together. It’s been four months now, and even though Alexia reassured you that it’s a completely normal time frame to not have been intimate with one another yet, the only reason why it hadn’t happened yet were your insecurities. 

“I know,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and it’s not you. It’s not you at all. I just…” You swallowed hard, the weight of everything you’d been carrying pressing down on your chest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t want to ruin us.” Alexia’s expression softened, her arms dropping to her sides as she stepped closer again. You hated how easily she gave in, you wanted her to be annoyed at you, at the situation, because she had every right to be. But you couldn’t deny her when she was being so caring. Her hands found yours, squeezing gently. “Ruin us? How could this ruin us?”

“Because I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. “I’ve… I’ve felt like this before, and it didn’t end well. And I know you’re not them, Alexia, I know that. But my brain… it’s hard to convince it sometimes.”

She exhaled slowly, pulling you into a hug that you didn’t know you needed until you felt her warmth surround you. “I wish you’d told me sooner,” she murmured, her lips brushing the top of your head. “You don’t have to carry that alone.”

The two of you stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the earlier tension fading but not disappearing entirely. It wasn’t fixed. Far from it, but at least now, the wall between you had started to crack.

You figured that it was time to tell her. You felt comfortable with her, and as much as your past was weighing you down, weighing down on your relationship, you had started feeling like opening up about it in the last couple weeks. You were certain that Alexia wouldn’t judge you, and if anything she deserved an explanation. Because the last thing you wanted was her kicking herself over something that was entirely out of her hands.

Alexia’s embrace felt like a shield, her steady heartbeat grounding you in a way your own mind couldn’t. But the weight of your confession lingered in the air between you, heavy and unspoken. She didn’t push you for more, not yet, though her quiet presence urged you to keep going. Her hand moved soothingly up and down your back, patient, as though she knew the words would come when you were ready. And they did. Slowly, at first. But then the dam broke, and you couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t about Alexia. God, how could it ever be about perfect, caring Alexia. You could feel her body untense when you told her that. It was about the way someone before her had made you feel like intimacy wasn’t a shared experience, but something they took. About the nights you’d spent questioning if they’d loved you at all or just the idea of you. About how you’d told yourself it wasn’t that bad, that you were just being overly sensitive, until one day, you couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching you in that way again.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Alexia. God, the way your body responded to her touches gave away more than enough to let both her and yourself know that you wanted this. Desperately. But that want was tangled up with fear, the kind that gnawed at you and told you that you might wake up one day and that she would look at you differently, just like the one before her did. That maybe letting her have this part of you would somehow shift what you had, that it would finally convince Alexia that you weren’t what she wanted. It was an insecurity that had been steady all the way throughout your relationship, and as much as your girlfriend tried to work it away, it remained persistent. She quieted it down, sure, but it would never leave.

The more you spoke, the more memories you buried so deeply rose to the surface. The way your ex would ignore your no’s, brushing them off like they were playful instead of firm. The times they’d made you feel inadequate, like your hesitations were inconveniences on their path to getting what they wanted, never batting an eye at what you wanted, or better said not wanted. How, by the end you’d felt less like a partner and more like a thing to be used.

It took you ages to leave the relationship, but when you finally mustered up the courage to leave one night, you told yourself you’d never let anyone in that easily anymore. And even though Alexia had never made you feel like she would do any of the things other people had done to you in the past, your insecurities had been holding you back. But you were ready to put them to the side, to clear everything out between the two of you and to give yourself to her in a way that would make you completely hers.

You couldn’t meet Alexia’s gaze as you finished, the silence between you now deafening. You were still in her arms, the two of you not having moved from your position in the kitchen. You held your head buried against her chest the entire time while you spoke, your arms tightening around her figure the more you revealed, as if you were scared she was gonna walk away at any point. But then her hand cupped your cheek, guiding your face to hers. Her eyes, soft and glistening with unshed tears, held nothing but love.

“Thank you so much for telling me, mi amor,” she whispered, her thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “I’m so incredibly sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know what to say, but I do know that you didn’t deserve any of that. You are so worthy of love. You’re worthy of feeling loved, and not feel like you’re being used for your body. I promise, bebé, I’m not like them. I would never take this from you, it’s something that we share. Together. Whenever you’re ready.”

Her words soothed the ache in your chest a little, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude for the woman who was holding you close to her. You had just poured your heart out, and she managed to say exactly the right thing to make sure you felt listened to. You didn’t feel like you overshared, your girlfriend deserved to know this. And she didn’t say much, but she said exactly the right things. And you couldn’t have wished for much more than that.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I just didn’t want to ruin us,” you murmured. “You could never ruin us,” she said firmly, pressing a tender kiss against your crown. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could be completely open with her. And even though you weren’t ready just yet, you felt the lingering insecurities ebbing away with each second that the Spaniard held you in her arms.

-

And the night it eventually happened, confirmed even further that this woman was the love of your life.

An easy Saturday night. You had cooked for Alexia after what had been a grueling week at work, seemingly everyone wanted a piece of your Spaniard during the week and you could tell that it had started to weigh on her by the time the weekend arrived. So you swapped your planned Saturday night dinner date at a new restaurant around the block for a night in, cooking one of her favorite recipes and swaying to music together in the kitchen while the scent of your cooking invaded your senses.

Conversation had been light and easy, as it always was with her. You lit some candles on the table and put on some music in the background, the soft tinge of jazz a perfect element to the comfortable air that hung between the two of you.

Now, you were curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders, pulling you close. The movie on the screen was one you’d both seen a dozen times before, but neither of you had been paying much attention. Her fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, her touch warm and familiar.

Alexia had been different since that night. Softer, if that was even possible. She never pressed, never pushed. Her touches remained comforting rather than lingering, and she’d never once brought up what you’d told her. Not directly, anyway. But tonight felt different. Not particularly for her, but for you.

You weren’t sure if it was the way her hand lingered a little longer on the small of your back when she’d kissed you earlier, or how her eyes softened whenever they met yours, like she was drinking you in. Maybe it was the wine you’d shared over dinner. Or maybe it was simply that you were ready.

You leaned into her touch a little more, your lips grazing her jaw in a way that you knew would get to her. She responded with a soft hum, turning her head to capture your lips in a kiss. It was sweet, unhurried, but you could feel the restraint in it, how she always held back just enough, careful not to push you too far. Her apprehension had tripled down ever since your moment in the kitchen a couple weeks ago, though. She was always careful of not pushing too far, but now she’d outright refrained from it. And you tried your best not to be frustrated by it, because God, she was doing it for you. She wanted to take things at your pace, but you’d been feeling on edge the past couple of days and you knew what the reason was. And as much as you were sure about yourself, you didn’t quite know how to initiate things with her.

You deepened the kiss, letting your fingers trail along the line of her jaw, and her breath hitched. It was enough to make your heart race, but even as her hand slid to your waist, you could feel her hesitating. "Alexia," you murmured against her lips, your voice softer than you’d intended. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows knitting in that way they always did when she was worried. “Am I- do you want me to stop?” There it was again. The hesitation. The fear of doing something that would send you three steps back. 

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I-” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. It was now or never. Her hand rested against your cheek, grounding you. “You can tell me,” she said softly. Sweet, sweet Alexia.

You took a deep breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt. “I want to. Tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to have sex with you.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so blunt. But if you didn’t get the words out there at that moment, you felt like they were going to suffocate you whole. You were ready, and you wanted her to know. Dignity be damned.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked like she hadn’t heard you. But then her expression softened, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Are you sure?” she asked, the slight lilt in her voice doing nothing to hide her excitement. You nodded, leaning into her touch. “I’m sure. I want to be with you.”

Alexia didn’t move right away. She just held your gaze, searching your eyes as if she was trying to memorize every detail of this moment. When she finally leaned in to kiss you again, it was slower, deeper, and filled with an overwhelming tenderness that made your heart ache. She pulled you closer, her hands skimming over your back as if she was afraid to let go. And for the first time, you didn’t hesitate to let her.

Her lips moved against yours in a way that felt brand new. It wasn’t though, it was a comfortable reassurance in the midst of what you knew was going to be a long night of new experiences, but every touch felt new, felt like you were discovering a new part of her that had stayed hidden underneath your projection of your insecurities. Her hands then cradled your face, thumbs brushing softly along your cheeks as though she wanted to make sure you felt cherished, loved and completely in control. She wasn’t rushing, and you knew she wasn’t going to at all. 

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm and steady. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, your heart racing. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your fingers curling into the baby hairs that escaped her bun at the back of her neck. “Are you?”

She smiled, a small, crooked thing that made your chest feel tight. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a little uneven. “Just… trying to believe this is really happening.” Your cheeks flushed at her words, but you didn’t look away. “It is,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I want this, Alexia. I want you.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Relief, perhaps, or maybe disbelief, and she kissed you again, slower this time. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, even though you could feel the months of tension between you, bubbling just beneath the surface. She stood, pulling you up with her, her hands never leaving your waist as she guided you toward the bedroom. You followed her, your fingers laced with hers, and it felt like everything else fell away, the world outside, the doubts, the fears. It was just you and her, together.

Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere felt different. The silent urge that her actions were laced with on the couch made place for something softer, if that was even possible. Alexia turned to face you, her hands finding your waist again as she pulled you close. “We don’t have to rush,” she said, her voice gentle. “We can stop anytime, baby, I-”. “I don’t want to stop,” you interrupted, surprising even yourself with how firm your voice sounded. “I’m ready, my love.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she just nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.” You could tell there was a storm raging behind her eyes, and you wished you could do anything at all to quell the worrying thoughts she had. But in the end, you knew that tonight would settle so many of them.

Her hands moved to the hem of your shirt, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. She hesitated, waiting for your permission, and when you nodded, she carefully lifted the fabric over your head. Her hands skimmed along your sides, warm and steady, as if she was trying to reassure you with her touch.

“Dios mio, you’re so beautiful. I don’t tell you enough.” You chuckled, because that was probably the furthest thing from the truth she’d ever said. “So multiple times a day isn’t enough for you?” Her eyes met yours and you could see the playfulness in them, secretly grateful for how light the moment was. You were well aware of how much of yourself you were giving away to her, but she steadied you. As she always did. “Shut up. Let me love you.” She accentuated her words with a firm kiss against your lips, which you readily reciprocated.

You reached for her too, your fingers trailing along her shoulders before slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt. “I want this off,” you murmured against her lips. A shiver trailed down Alexia’s spine, due to the excitement of the moment or the feeling of your fingertips on her body, she didn’t know. But she slipped her shirt off with practiced ease, and you couldn’t help but admire the toned body that you’d grown to love so much over the past couple months. There had been times where it would make you insecure, insecure about the fact that you didn’t look like that. You weren’t athletic, you didn’t train as consistently and as hard as she did, but she didn’t mind. You were perfect to her, and she would take her time again and again to meticulously work away all those worries and insecurities and wouldn’t go to bed before she made sure that you were okay.

Now, though, it’s a piece of her that you shamelessly adored. Because, let’s be real, there’s everything to love about a body like your girlfriend’s. You let your eyes trail over her toned upper body, before lightly tracing a freshly manicured finger over her abs. You heard a sharp intake of a breath coming from the woman standing across you, and you couldn’t help the smirk that grew on your face at the sound. If there was anything Alexia was taking with her from that night, it was her newfound love for the feeling of your nails raking over her muscles there. 

When the two of you finally sank onto the bed, her lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent. Months of restraint melted away in the heat of her touch, but even in the passion, there was a softness to it, a tenderness that reminded you of why you had fallen for her in the first place.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” she murmured against your lips, her voice low and filled with emotion. “I will,” you promised, your hands sliding into her hair as you pulled her closer.

For the first time, you felt completely safe. There was no sense of pressure, no fear of being used or discarded. Alexia’s patience wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you relaxed under her touch in a way you didn’t know was possible.

Her thumb traced slow circles against your hip as her lips trailed from the corner of your mouth to the delicate skin of your jaw, leaving soft, lingering kisses as she went. Her hands, warm and steady rested on your waist. She moved lower, testing the waters by pressing a few open-mouthed kisses against your neck, to which your breath hitched in response. She paused for a moment, her breath hot against your neck, and you felt her smile against your skin. “You’re so easy to fluster.” Her lips pressed against the sensitive spot right beneath your ear, earning a sharp inhale from you. “And you make such cute noises. It’s not fair how much I love it.”

Your hands found their way to her shoulders, clutching at her as a nervous laugh escaped you. "Alexia, stop," you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. It was a combination of words she’d heard so many times in the past couple of months, but she knew you didn’t mean it in that way this time. Her heart ached as her thoughts quickly trailed off to how much you two had grown in your relationship.

"Stop what?" she asked innocently, pulling back to meet your eyes. Her fingers slid a little higher, brushing over your ribs, her touch impossibly soft. "I’m just kissing you. Nothing else." Her grin widened as she caught the way you bit your lip to suppress any sound that was threatening to escape at the feeling of her fingers on your skin. "But you’re so responsive, cariño," she said, her voice dipping into a playful lilt. "I can’t help myself."

You wanted to retort, to say something clever, but the way her lips found yours again, soft and lingering, shut you up in the best way. "You can tell me to stop," she whispered against your lips, her hands sliding back to your waist to anchor you against her. "But I don’t think you want me to, do you?"

Alexia’s hands started to explore more purposefully, her fingers grazing the curve of your hips and rubbing softly up and down your thighs as she pressed a string of soft kisses to your collarbone. Her touch was warm, comforting, and yet electric all at once. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as her lips brushed a particularly ticklish spot near your shoulder.

“What’s funny?” she asked, pulling back just enough to look at you, her brow arched in playful curiosity .“Nothing,” you lied, biting your lip to stifle another giggle. “It just… tickles a little. ”Alexia smirked, her expression mischievous now. “Ticklish, huh?” she teased, dipping her head to nuzzle against your neck, her lips and breath sending shivers down your spine. “Alexia, no-” you protested through your laughter, squirming slightly beneath her. “That’s not fair!”

She laughed with you, the sound warm and contagious, before leaning up to meet your eyes again. Her expression softened instantly, the laughter fading into something much more tender. “I love this,” she whispered, her thumb brushing the side of your face. “Hearing you laugh like this, seeing you so… at ease. It’s perfect.”

As her hands wandered again, Alexia shifted her weight slightly and started moving down your body, only to accidentally knock the bedside lamp with her elbow. The soft thud of the lamp wobbling broke the moment, and the two of you froze for a second before dissolving into quiet laughter.

“Smooth,” you teased, shaking your head as you reached out to steady the lamp. You loved the way her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “Not my finest moment,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. The laughter and lightness of the moment faded when she returned to the task at hand, moving down your body and pressing lingering kisses against every sliver of skin she could find. Your chest, stomach, arms, your girlfriend didn’t leave a spot untouched and you felt overwhelmed in the best way possible. You thought you knew what it felt like to be loved, but all of that went out of the window as soon as you met Alexia. She made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, and that feeling increased by tenfold in this moment. The way she looked at you, the way she held you, spoke to you, the way she tenderly explored your body with soft touches, nothing in the world would ever compare to the way you felt when her body hovered over yours. 

She eventually settled between your legs, resting her head on one of your thighs and gazing up at you, tracing soft circles all over the thigh her head wasn’t resting on. She looked at you with a softness in her gaze that made your heart ache, in disbelief over how loved she could make you feel through such simple actions. Her hand shifted slightly upwards, fingers trailing over your hips and lightly starting to fiddle with the waistband of your underwear. She asked the unspoken question with her eyes, knowing well enough that you knew what she meant. You bit your lip and nodded, a little apprehensive but not enough to let that stop you. Alexia sat up on her knees and carefully started taking off your underwear, keeping her eyes trained on yours. She searched your face for any discomfort as she slid the garment down your legs, discarding it somewhere in the room to clean up tomorrow. 

You felt bare then, besides the obvious fact that you were bare. But it didn’t scare you like it would’ve before, had this happened earlier. You felt  comfortable, her presence was grounding you in the most perfect way and you trusted her with this, trusted her with your body. “You look incredible, mi amor. Honestly, you’re so beautiful.” You hadn’t noticed she finally allowed herself to take your body in, letting her eyes rake over every part of your naked figure as if she was getting to know it all over again.

Your cheeks turned a subtle shade of red at her words, and you couldn’t help the small smile that crept up your lips as she spoke. She returned it with one of her own, before making her way up your body again and pressing kisses all over your face. She was doing a perfect job at balancing the intensity and lightheartedness of the moment, and if you ever wondered how she could ever become more perfect, this moment in the bedroom together was the proof of that.

But the air shifted then, and you knew she wanted to know how serious she was about how you were about to give yourself to her. She pressed a couple more lingering kisses against your lips and whispered some soft reassurances before she moved back down again, laying down between your legs and making herself comfortable.

“Mi vida, if you don’t like something, or if anything hurts, or if you just want to stop, tell me. I won’t be mad, angry or disappointed, okay? Tonight is about you, bebé, and I want you to feel good. Just guide me, hmm? Tell me what you like and don’t like. I’ll try my best to make you feel as comfortable as possible.”

Her words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and settled the tiny bundle of nerves that had started bubbling up ever since she moved down your body again. You nodded, but Alexia raised her eyebrows in response and you realized she wasn’t gonna settle for just a nod. “Yes, baby, I know. Thank you. I love you so much.” She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, as if she was letting your words seep through her. Then eventually, she dipped her head down and started pressing kisses against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

It wasn’t long until your hands found her hair, tangling themselves there to ground yourself whilst Alexia was working her way up to where you wanted her most. You were aching for her, truly. You’d had your insecurities that had been holding you back, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t sexually frustrated from being around the hottest woman you’d ever laid eyes on for months and not doing anything that remotely soothed any ache that came up.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Alexia started, and you let out an embarrassingly needy whimper as she blew a bit of air toward your wet folds. “Dripping. All for me, huh?” You didn’t manage anything more than a hum, your thoughts way too clouded with the prospect of what was about to happen to muster up anything more than that. Alexia hooked her arms underneath your thighs and you instinctively spread them a little further, allowing her more space to work with. 

She started slowly, but no matter how slow she would’ve started, you would’ve been a goner anyway. She pressed a couple soft kisses against your folds, not in any way close to where you actually wanted her, but it felt like months of sexual frustration were crashing down on you the moment you felt her mouth near your core.

“Ale, please, I need you.” Despite your pact with yourself that you’d let her do what she wanted to you, to let her take her time and just let it wash over you, you felt like you were going to combust if you didn’t have her mouth on you at this moment. You could hear a slight chuckle coming from the woman between your legs but before you could feel embarrassed at your neediness, you felt her warm mouth envelop your sensitive bud of nerves that sat proudly atop your folds. You let out a guttural moan at the feeling, and even though she wasn’t really doing anything, you already felt way too close to the edge.

“Fuck, baby, I won’t last long,” you said, thinking it was only decent to warn her. “Don’t worry, mi amor, we have all night,” she mumbled against you, the vibrations of her voice sending more jolts of pleasure all throughout your body. Alexia buried herself a little deeper, her mouth dipping down and licking through your folds, her nose bumping your clit. It was overwhelming, it was too much, but you couldn’t get enough. She squeezed your thighs every now and then, a silent reminder that she was there, that this was real and that you were okay.

It wasn’t long until you came undone for the first time that night. All it took was your girlfriend to expertly suck and flick her tongue a couple times over your clit, and you were completely at her mercy. You tugged at her hair as you felt the coil in your belly snap, arching your back off the bed and letting out a loud moan of her name with it. Your thighs locked around her head, but she remained steady, her tongue working you through your orgasm perfectly, slowing down when it faded so you didn’t get overstimulated.

And if you weren’t crazy about her yet, the sight you were met with when she emerged from between your thighs had you falling for her in a completely different way. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks a little red from the effort and her chin was slightly wet, testament of how your juices had coated her mere moments ago. She had a goofy, proud smile on her face and you would move heaven and earth to have it plastered on there forever. “C’mere,” you mumbled, making grabby hands at her. She hovered over you, and you pulled her down into a firm kiss, one in which you tried to pour all your appreciation for her into. “You’re amazing,” you mumbled against her lips. “You haven’t seen anything yet, mi amor,” she murmured when she pulled away, a playful glint in her eyes and her tone teasing. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched as she slid down your body again.

It felt different now, you were more aware of what she was doing, less lost in your own pleasure. She didn’t tease you like she did the first time, but instead started sliding two of her fingers through your folds, gathering some arousal and then teasing your cunt. “Do you want me there?” She asked in a low voice, looking at you through her eyelashes before fixing her gaze on your pussy again. She was mesmerized, the way you were absolutely dripping for her and she could see your cunt trying to suck her fingers in as she teased your hole. “Please, but be gentle,” you mumbled, almost embarrassed at the way your voice sounded. “Of course, baby,” she reassured, leaning down and pressing a couple soft kisses against one of your thighs that were locked around her waist.

She didn’t waste much more time then, gathering a little more arousal with her fingers before slowly pushing her middle finger in. She went slow, careful, just like she’d promised you. The stretch was painful, but the longer she was inside of you, the more the pain transferred into pleasure. “You can try to move, baby,” You said, and that was all Alexia needed to get down to business. She slowly pulled her finger back, not rushing anything at all, before filling you up again. It felt good, being filled by her, although you knew you were able to take more, and you wanted more. “Another one,” you said in a soft voice, and you thought she didn’t catch it.

But she did, because suddenly you felt her pull out, only to add a second finger and slide inside you again. The stretch was good this time, less painful, and you quickly adjusted to the width and girth of her fingers. She started moving a little quicker, finding a set rhythm and she was working you closer and closer to the edge. “Look at me,” she said, and when you didn’t comply immediately she squeezed your thigh, to which you opened your eyes and locked eyes with hers. “I wanna see your face when you cum, por favor,” she asked, and who were you to deny her when she seemed so desperate? So she picked up her pace, and kept her eyes trained on yours, studying every expression you made as she pleasured you. The slight frown etched on your forehead, the way your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ whenever a particularly good thrust of her fingers took your breath away, the way you bit your lip when you were trying to be mindful about the sinful noises that left your mouth. Suddenly the last couple months had all been worth it. The sight of you, bare, beneath her was one she would never get tired of, and she didn’t know if she would ever be able to go without it again.

The increased volume of your moans is what pulled her out of her thoughts, your face telling her that you were growing closer to your peak. She picked up the pace a little bit more, careful not to hurt you, and to add to the pleasure she started using her mouth too. She took your clit in her mouth, lightly sucking on it to try and push you over the edge. She heard the sound of one of your hands clenching the sheets, and your other hand was tugging at her hair so deliciously. She was drunk on you, lost in your pleasure, so determined to make you feel better than you’d ever felt. So when your thighs clenched around her head and your back arched off the bed, she didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop until all that was leaving your mouth were high-pitched moans, teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but you loved the combination of pleasure and pain that was coursing through you as she kept pumping her fingers in and out of you, her pace not faltering even when you came down from your orgasm.

You threw your head back, knowing that she wanted to coax another out of you, and your brain had to turned to absolute mush at her mercy. She slid her unoccupied hand up your body, searching for yours and intertwining your fingers, trying to ground you with the touch. “One more, mi amor, one more, for me, please,” Alexia was begging. Begging for you to cum again, for you to give her one more. She was working her fingers in and out of you at an insane pace, and even if you wanted to give her a response, you wouldn’t have been able to. The words caught in your throat, a guttural moan coming out instead as she slightly nibbled on your clit. The feeling was overwhelming, and before you had even registered what was happening, your third orgasm of the night washed over you.

You screamed her name, no longer minding how loud you were being. But the feeling of pleasure quickly turned into one of overstimulation, and you pressed a hand against Alexia’s crown to push her away from your core. She looked up, frown etched onto her face, cheeks a little puffy and breathing heavy. “You okay?” She managed to ask, and you nodded, “Yeah, yeah, so okay, just too much.”

You tried to relax, laying your head down against the pillows and trying to control your breath whilst Alexia quickly left her spot between your legs, dipping away into the bathroom before returning with a warm washcloth. She cleaned you up, and for some reason that action felt more intimate than anything you’d just done prior to that. She discarded it in the laundry and made her way back over to you, a smug smile playing on her lips as you climbed next to you in bed. You curled into her, nuzzling your head into her chest and grounding yourself as you listened to your heartbeat. A comfortable silence stretched across the two of you, Alexia playing with your hair as you pressed soft kisses against her sternum. “Thank you,” she eventually whispered.

You lifted your head, searching for her eyes despite the dark room. “For what?” You frowned. “For trusting me with this. Trusting me with you and your body. It means the world to me, and I hope that you felt comfortable throughout.” You felt some tears well up, but you blinked them away before they could fall, not wanting to give your girlfriend a wrong impression of how you felt. “God, Ale, you’re incredible. Thank you for taking such good care of me. I-” you took a deep breath, pressing a soft kiss against her nose before speaking further. “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better than you to do this with. Thank you. You’re incredible and I love you so much.”

She smiled at that, and captured your lips in a dizzying kiss. “Are you okay?” She asked, pulling away slightly. “Better than okay. Honestly.” The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, tangled in each other’s arms. Alexia had well and truly managed to top any of the expectations you’d set, and suddenly it felt like second nature. Being here with her, your naked bodies pressed together, everything just felt right. Your insecurities worked away, Alexia the new reality that you were more than happy to get used to.

[tbaluver]

Hi hii how are you doing?? I've been thinking about mc catching the lads men masturbating to the thoughts of mc, do you think you could write something like that?

Imagine probably fits this more but obviously do whatever you feel like with this! If you want to write just headcannons that's obviously up to you! ^^

I love your work a lot, you're doing great <33

caught white handed!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader summary: you caught them touching themselves! warnings/ tags: MDNI, male masturbation, p in v, a/n: hihi izzyy !! i hope you enjoy reading ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ rest of my notes will be below <3 did you guys see what i did there in the title (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

it was a cold night yet xavier felt so hot. he softly groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes slowly flutter open. his eyes travel down his body, his dick straining against his grey sweats.

his eyes flicker over to your peacefully sleeping form. he can’t wake you, not when you have an important mission tomorrow. you need your rest and he knows he needs all of your stamina.

he sighs, tugging his grey sweats and boxers down. his cock springs free, begging to get a release. he lifts the hem of his shirt, biting down onto it so it suppresses any sound he can make.

he flutters his eyes closed, trying to grasp the wet dream he had. ah yes. his were lips grazed on every surface of you he can touch, his mouth leaving wet trails all over your body. he remembers trying to fight the urge to roll on top of you, to see your tits bounce every time he thrust into you.

his eyes flutter open again, watching his fist drag up and down his shaft slowly. he wishes his hand on his cock would be your cunt around him right now. he lets his head fall back further into the plush of the pillow as he tries to visualize more of your naked figure.

how he wishes you didn’t get assigned to that mission and how the plush of your walls would welcome his cock. how he would pound into you from behind and watch your ass jiggle, his hands leaving marks from how hard he’s gripping your hips. how your delicate hands would desperately be holding on the sheets of the bed as you moan his name in pleasure.

his eyes flicker to your sleeping form again, licking his lips when he sees your tit slipping out of your tank top. he increases the pace of his hand as he continues staring, how he wishes he can suck and lick them right now.

he visualizes pinning you down with his large form towering over you as he drills his dick deep inside of you. he clenches his eyes as he tries to suppress the groan, his pace picking up.your tits bouncing with each thrust, your mouth parted slightly, making drool drip down to your chin. your eyes half-lidded, drunk off of his cock. how he wishes he could shoot his thick loads of cum into you instead of wiping it away.

he can hear you moaning and chanting his name, “xavier, xavier”, unaware that it was actually you calling right beside him. xavier’s movement slows, his gaze locking onto yours with pleading eyes. “help” he whimpers, releasing the hem of his shirt from his teeth.

Zayne:

pages and pages of patient records and nursing notes were scattered across zayne’s desk. leaning slightly, he observes the new notes from the nursing staff. a few of the updates regarding the patient's conditions and status changes were incorrect, requiring his attention to make corrections. he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. this wasn’t the kind of work he’d hope to take home after a long day in the operating room.

he shifts his focus between the reports and his computer but his gaze keeps wandering to the framed pictures and trinkets on his desk. it was very unlike zayne to be so easily distracted, yet the little memories seemed to pull his attention away.

he could already hear your voice teasing him “you’re always telling me to take breaks, maybe you should listen to your own advice zayne!” and he would glance down at you, imagining the playful pout on your face as you drag him out of the room.

your soft hands would guide him to the couch, away from the stress that had been weighing down on him. you must have made him something sweet as you reach for the cup, bending purposely low enough for him to catch a glimpse of your ass. you would settle comfortably on his lap, letting him take the first sip while never breaking eye contact with you. once he finishes, you take a small sip, a small dribble of the drink slips down your chin lower and lower.

a playful smile would tug at the corner of your lips as you nuzzle in closer to him. he could feel your boobs pressing against him while your delicate hands trace the buttons of his shirt as you ask him with pleading eyes, “what’s on your mind zayne?”

he could’ve easily told you about his frustrations right now but both of you knew the answer was simple, it was you. zayne was quite strong and patient but when it came to you, you were the sun to his snow, melting and leaving him completely vulnerable just by your touch.

he momentarily loses his train of thought, his cock straining hard against his pants. he hesitates, feeling guilty for thinking about the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the scenario he imagined. but when his palm drags slowly against his clothed length, he feels relief spreading through his body. 

he tries to fight back these images of you, he has to go back and finish his work but how can he when small mementos of you are all over his desk? his desk, where he’s taken you over and under many times. the way he would have you bent over his desk, his cock rubbing against your weeping cunt before slowly sinking in. your cunt fluttering as it envelops his length completely.

he groans as he feels himself grow harder, the outline of his cock pressing against his trousers, begging to be free. he unbuckles his belt before lifting his hips up to pull down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. his palm drags slowly along his length, the relief he once felt spreading through his body again.

he imagines it’s your soft warm hands that drag along his shaft. he visualizes you sitting here with your legs spread wide on his desk instead of these papers scattered all over. he lets his head fall back on his office chair, his eyes half- lidded as he imagines your weeping cunt. your beautiful eyes staring up at him as you take him fully as he kneads your pretty boobs.

your pretty moans, your walls fluttering around his dick was driving his mind insane. he squeezes his cock harder at the thought, feeling his orgasm nearing. soft groans as he thinks of his name falling from your lips. he pumps faster and faster until those beautiful eyes of yours are standing right in front of his door, holding his box from his favorite bakery.

zayne’s ears are bright red and you can’t tell whether it’s from rubbing his length or you finding him the act. he breathes in deeply, trying to sit up until you close the door and set the box aside.

“do you need any help doc-tor?”

Rafayel:

thomas had assigned him another art piece for an upcoming event but unfortunately the art block had plagued him for days. the deadline was approaching soon and surely thomas would nag him nonstop if he didn’t come up with anything. so in the last attempt, he found himself swimming in his bathtub, a pencil balanced over his nose as he stared blankly at the canvas in front of him.

he absentmindedly paddled his feet in the water, boredom creeping in. he missed you. thomas had banished you ( errands to help with the event ) so he could focus on the project, but how was he supposed to concentrate when his greatest inspiration isn’t by his side?

he pouts, sitting up to grab a towel to dry off the water on his skin before it smudges the canvas. pulling the canvas closer, he begins sketching. he starts with your cute little head, the one he loves to kiss so much. he captures the strands of your hair that contain the scent he adores, the one that always smells like home. and he adds your bright smile, the one that lights up his entire day.

he lowers to your chest, the one where he loves to lick and squeeze that makes you throw your head back. then down to your tummy, the place he loves to tease you with trails of wet kisses because he knows he’s getting closer. and your legs, the legs that would be pressed together whenever you were so shy to show him your soaking cunt.

he lets out a deep breath, his eyes travel down his body, his dick already hard and throbbing. he sinks back into the tub, taking his cock into his hand, stroking lazily up and down. his studio was empty so doesn’t bother suppressing his whimpers.

he licks his lips as he imagines your naked figure, water trickling down your wet breasts, your nipples hard and perky. your pretty little hand and eyes admiring his toned chest. he watches his fist drag up and down his shaft, pre-cum already leaking from his slit. those pretty eyes, the ones that look up at him pleadingly as your lips wrap around the head of his cock.

how he loved to imagine hearing you beg as he sits you down on his cock in the water, begging for friction, for movement. impatient girl

he imagines bending you over the cold surface of the tub, slowly sinking into you. how wet your body would be and the sounds you two would create once he was fully in. plap! plap! plap! wet and slippery skins against each other as his other hand slides up your sides to grab your ass or thighs. 

he pumps faster and faster into his swollen tip, unaware that you dropped the art supplies the moment you walked into the door. he was wrapped in his own world that he didn’t even hear you pick up and spill a million apologies.

he pants heavily, snapping out of his daze. his half-lidded eyes meet yours as he extends his hand towards you. “well? a performance always deserves some kind of reward.”

Sylus:

your boss let you go home early once there were no signs of energy fluctuations in any nearby areas and that everything seemed to be running smoothly. as you made your way to the bathroom, you figured a hot shower would hit the spot once you heard the water running.

your breath catches in your throat once you cracked the door open enough, catching a glimpse of sylus through the foggy glass of the shower doors. 

even through the foggy glass, you could tell from the position he was in and what he was doing. one hand pressed against the foggy glass while the other wrapped tightly around his flushed cock. he watched his hand drag along his length, filled with nothing but thoughts of you. 

you couldn’t help but watch, completely captivated by the way his white wet hair frames his sharp features, how water drips down to his toned muscles. you stood by the door completely frozen, lost in a daze until his voice broke through the silence of your thoughts.

“y/n” a moan escaping his lips as he imagines you being there with him in the shower. droplets of water run down his muscular nude body. the water was warm but yet he felt burning hot.

it was an addictive image of you where his cock was nestled between your lips, his fingers tangling in your hair. he can imagine your lips around the head of his cock, sucking lightly and hollowing out your cheeks before pulling back with a lewd and wet sound.

you’d repeat your motions, swirling your tongue along his tip, relaxing your jaw to take his cock once more. he sees your body below him, your wet hair framing your face beautifully as your eyes looked at him as he carefully works his cock down the tight tunnel of your throat.

but it doesn’t stop there.

he visualizes pinning you against the foggy glass of the shower doors, sinking his thick cock into your soaking hole. your legs would wrap around his waist, a moan escaping your lips as he pushes all the way in. his hips slap against your own while your wet tits bounce as his cock drills into your pussy.

he pumps faster into his swollen tip, thrusting into his fast. you can hear him spill curses and praises for you as he continues to think of the way how your cunt clenched around his length.

you squeeze your legs together as you look away from the door, your panties wet from watching your lover get off to you. you were lost in your own world as you debated on joining him or handling things with your own hands, that you didn’t even notice the sounds that slip off his lips had come to a halt. it wasn’t until the door opened that snapped you back to reality.

a towel hung loosely around his waist, his damp hair sticking to his skin while water trickles down the outlines of his muscles. he tilts his head slightly, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “i hope you enjoyed my show. you’re more than welcome to join.”

a/n: ahhhh hihi again izzy ! im doing well since im finally in my winter break i hope you're doing great luv lmk <3 i apologize this took me forever to write i was busy with school so i kept going back and forth with the rough draft and school (╥﹏╥) i wanted to make sure at least all of them were in diff scenarios :o i hope you enjoyed reading ! thank you for supporting and reading my works it truly means so much to me !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i hope to see you again soon (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

special thank yous to my beta readers mwah; @ilovemitsuya , @justwinginglife ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[simpjaes]

head empty..i just finished reading hypersexual for the nth time and i cant help it. please PLEASE PLEASE give me hyung line thoughts on all of them with the same affliction. its not a want anymore i need it sj PLEASE

hyper sexual hyung line

☆ jay:

jay is the type to let himself lose his mind until he enters dangerous territory. he has so many pocket pussies, he's fucked just about anything he can get his hands on to offer new sensations. has dabbled in porn that he should be incredibly ashamed of and only keeps getting worse...i think he'd need someone just like himself if he were suffering with chronic boner syndrome. all day, all night. drop out of college babe, he needs to get his dick wet. probably leads into a lot of different kinks too. public stuff mostly. what's even better is the thought of how insane he gets without it....and you, depriving him of it for fun. dom jay lets go. anyway, jay is also the type to genuinely expect you to drop out and let him take care of you if it means you'll spread your legs 24/7 for him.

★ jake:

this is basically just a small description of jake from the fic: hyper sexual, but yeah. He genuinely has an issue with jerking off to the point that he's practically numb to the feeling of his own hand, or jerking off in general. He can't fucking get off to anything anymore, which sucks when your cock is always pulsing and leaking in your pants. He's the type to go through every fucking dating app, never able to land a girl because he genuinely is just...way way too much for them. Absolutely gets horny at work, and practically tastes the heavens when any mention of "free use" is considered. Def into somno, and borderline dangerous if he doesn't get what he needs.

☆ sunghoon:

hides it well until he doesn't in the form of a huge boner always poking his friends via hug simply bc they rubbed against his arm the wrong way and he's way too sensitive. And thats what I think about sunghoon, he's sensitive. Any touch, any lingering touch will have him wanting to bury himself into anyone, fucking anything to feel good. definitely the type to pay sex workers for their services but also make them breakfast the next day before asking for a freebie. He would very likely go bankrupt if he can't find a girl to match his energy and be ready to fuck the second he pulls it out.

★ heeseung:

GOONER. an entire porn addict. Heeseung will jerk off to a fucking gaming magazine that shows a group of guys playing a table-top game just because there is a leg at the corner of a picture that kind of looks like it belongs to a girl he would absolutely fuck. he's desperate about it, which doesn't work in his favor at all. he's probably similar to jake in terms of being very close to committing....not good things. like, he will probably end up with restraining orders at one point because he'll find someone he wants to fuck and basically become obsessed with them until they give in. but hey, it's hard to meet people when you spend all day at home online, right? gotta make it count when he finds someone :/

[wstviewvidal]

prerequisites- w. maximoff

summary: where worlds collide

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: #needthat

minors do not interact

i know you told me not to, but you deserve it. i left something on your porch for this weekend

you open up the text from wanda and can’t help but feel a smile creep onto your face. you two have been texting and calling as much as your schedules allow since valerie’s recital last month.

you two have only had the opportunity to meet up three times since then— each time being for a quick lunch during the work day. the company event that wanda invited you to was on saturday and you had told wanda you were stressing out over what you were going to wear.

wanda, being the sweet woman that she is, told you not to worry about lifting a finger. when she told you this, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat worried— not sure what she meant by that. however, knowing the fact that wanda has yet to make you feel uncomfortable is what brought you the slightest bit of peace.

you get home less than an hour later to a pink rectangular box with a bow on it sitting on your front porch. a small laugh bubbles up and you shake your head slightly in disbelief. you quickly move to unlock the door and open the box.

the first thing you notice is intricate beading and lace as you pull out a black midi length dress from the box. you gape at it for a moment, your heart beating quicker at the thought of her putting thought into getting you this dress.

your phone rings, interrupting your moment. you dig it out of your bag and answer without even looking at the caller ID.

“hi,” wanda says, her voice warm, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “did you get my gift?”

you let out a soft laugh and tell her you did, “wanda, you know that you don’t have to buy me these things, right? it looks way too expensive and i hate that i made you spend your money on it,” you pout softly at the idea of wanda going out of her way to even think about spending money on you.

wanda rolls her eyes and twirls a pen in her hand as she sits behind her desk, “nonsense. you didn’t make me do a single thing. you were telling me you were stressing and what kind of a friend would i be if i didn’t at least try to help you out?” a slight grimace covers her face as she calls herself your friend.

truth is, wanda thinks she’s could fall for you. she wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she finds herself thinking about you often. the way you smile when you talk about your niece, the passion and love you have for your career, the way you make her laugh— everything

“still, i can’t accept this gift. you know i don’t like you spending money on me,” you whine softly as you trace the detailing on the dress, “you’ve paid for all the lunches we’ve been on— you never even let me finish offering to pay before you give the waiter your card!”

wanda can hear the whine in your voice and rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “so? i want to pay for you. keep your money so you can spoil your niece, or i’ll spoil her myself.”

you sigh into the phone as she says this— you know she’ll stick to her word about spoiling valerie, “you and that girl love to conspire against me and i hate it. fine, but next time we go out it’s going to be on me.”

you try your best to sound confident and firm, but you know wanda is on the other side of the call trying to hide her snicker.

“okay, whatever you say goes,” you can practically see her teasing smile through the phone as she replies and you can’t stop the feeling of butterflies in your stomach as you listen.

the two of you stay on the call for an hour later, even while wanda is working on her tasks for her company. she goes on to tell you all about how she has to review funding proposals and finalize budget adjustments for a new program she hopes to implement in another school.

you listen to her talk as you prepare your dinner, chiming in when necessary.

“sorry, i’ve been talking at you,” wanda cuts herself off and cringes when she realizes you haven’t said much, “what are you doing?”

wanda tries her best to smooth over and shift the topic back to you. “hush, i love when you tell me about your job. besides, it’s keeping me entertained while i’m making my dinner.”

wanda’s cheeks flush a shade of pink when you tell her that she’s not being bothersome, that you enjoy her company. she goes to respond but is suddenly cut off by a question.

“if i save you a plate, will you come have dinner with me when you get off?”

your body felt cold as soon as you asked that question, almost afraid that wanda would reject the offer. on the other side of the call, wanda was practically jumping for joy at the idea of having dinner with you. a wide grin covered her face and it was almost like wanda had to physically restrict herself from kicking her feet like a lovesick teenager.

she looks at the watch on her wrist and decides she could leave right now if she wanted. after all, she is her own boss.

“if that’s okay with you,” she shyly replies, “i can be at yours in about an hour or maybe less?”

an impossibly large grin covers your face at her reply, “that’s perfect. i can’t wait to see you.”

after you two hang up, the air seems lighter and you both know that the dinner isn’t just a friendly invitation. somehow, you both know that it signifies the potential start of something special.

wanda arrives to your house, true to her word, in less than an hour. she even brought you small bouquet of white roses with a pink bow.

you open the door to wanda standing there with a sheepish grin, a huge contrast to the businesswoman you met last month.

“hi,” her voice low, “i know you said i didn’t need to bring anything, but i didn’t want to come to your house for the first time empty handed. i didn’t want to be rude, especially since—“

wanda rambles and you can’t help but try to hold in a laugh at her nervous demeanor.

“wanda?” you tilt your head slightly with a teasing tone. your lips pursing together in a feeble attempt to contain a laugh.

wanda raises her eyebrows in acknowledgment as she looks at you with a flustered look, “yeah?”

your heart melts at the sight of her clutching the roses and rocking back and forth with an anxious look.

“come inside,” you hold your hand out to her to pull her inside, “your plate is already on the table.”

wanda looks at your outstretched hand, then back up to your eye, almost like she didn’t expect it. she takes your hand and allows you to guide her into your home.

she hands you the flowers with a timid smile, “i wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so i tried to play it safe with roses.”

wanda looks uneasy and it takes everything in you to not let out a laugh, “thank you, wands. you’re so sweet.”

wanda’s heart beats faster at the sound of the nickname and you calling her sweet. she follows after you as you walk towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

the smell of roasted chicken and mashed potato full the air and you can hear wanda’s stomach growl as she stands near you.

that’s what makes you finally break into a fit of laughter. wanda looks at you sheepishly and apologizes softly.

“no, no,” you giggle softly and guide wanda to the table by the waist, “you need to eat, come on.”

wanda’s heart pounds as you lead her with such casual intimacy. she watches you as you walk back with two glasses, her lips curling into a smile as you set one down in front of her while you glance back at her with a playful expression.

“everything smells amazing,” she looks at the food then up to you again, “did you really make this on your own?”

you laugh softly, “what, you think i can’t cook?”

shaking her head and suppressing an apology, “no, i think you can do anything. this just smells amazing— like it came from a restaurant.”

wanda watches you with an amused expression as you playfully roll your eyes at her compliment. you pour the drinks in hopes that the flush on your face will go away— it doesn’t. wanda gazes at you as you busy yourself with making sure she’s taken care of.

as you two eat dinner together, the conversation flows and you two share jokes and memories. wanda begins talking about her childhood as you listen intently and rest your chin in your hand.

wanda’s infectious smile as she talks about her brother, pietro, is something you’re sure you’ll never be able to forget. she tells you all about how he was always a problem child and she always had to cover for him growing up. you find yourself hanging onto every word that comes out of her lips.

“i mean, i love him and all but, geez, that boy had everyone worried when he’d come home with a scrape on his face,” she shakes her head in disbelief as she recounts stories of him as a teen. you can see the love in her eyes as she talks about life before she became who she is today.

you decide to throw caution to the wind and ask something more personal, “do you think your relationship has changed with your family since you became big in the business world?”

wanda’s breath hitches as you ask that. she looks off into space as she thinks over the question, a small sigh coming from her lips.

“yes and no,” she sounds far off as she’s speaks— you almost regret asking such a question, “i miss my family— the dynamic we had, but i’m also a career woman. i’m lucky to be in the position i’m in, and i’m happy i’m able to provide for my family and give back. i see it as a price i had to pay.”

you nod along as wanda speaks, your hand subtly grazing over the back of her hand as she speaks. you aren’t sure if she wants to continue this conversation, but you allow her to take the rein.

after a few more minutes of wanda speaking about her family, she helps you pick up the table. you’re stood at the sink, ready to begin washing dishes before wanda stands next to you with a curious expression.

“what are you doing?” she goes to grab the sponge from your hand before you look at her with a confused look.

“washing the dishes?” wanda almost laughs at your tone, shaking her head at you. she gently pushes you to the side, “let me do it, you cooked our dinner.”

needless to say, you two both stood side by side washing the dishes together— the smile on your faces never leaving.

wanda turns to you after the last dish is dried with a smile, “thank you for tonight. i can’t remember the last time i had a good meal like that, or such great company for that matter.”

wanda watches in amusement as a blush covers your cheeks and you try to distract yourself. your chest tightens and wanda watches as you fold a dish rag.

turning to face her, your eyes trace over her features— something that makes wanda freeze, “you’re always welcome in my home, wanda. i loved having you here.”

her eyes meet yours, something unreadable behind her eyes as you two look at each other.

“i know tomorrow’s event sounds a little intimidating,” she speaks slowly, choosing her words deliberately, “but i’m really grateful you’re coming with me.”

the gentle reminder of tomorrows event causes your stomach to flip. the thought of being back in wanda’s world— the banquets, the attire, the business talk. it’s all out of the norm for you, a complete 180 from the simple night you two just shared together. however, the gentle way that wanda spoke to you brought you some sort of comfort.

“i’ll be okay as long as i’m with you,” you say gently, looking at wanda with a soft expression that made wanda smile.

her words struck you where she’d hoped they would. she nods softly and brushes her fingers against the back of your palm, her warm fingers leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“it’s getting late, i think i should head out. we have a day ahead of us tomorrow.” wanda says, feeling remorseful that she has to end the night.

you nod solemnly as you begin to walk her to your front door. you open the door, the cool air now tracking inside. wanda turns to you, her eyes sweeping over your face as if memorizing your every detail.

“thank you,” her eyes flicker to your lips for a second too long, then back up to your eyes with a teasing smile, “i hope we can do this again.”

you nod softly and agree, watching her as she mentally battles between wanting to say more and leaving home.

“goodnight, wanda,” your voice came out softer than intended, but wanda loved it the gentleness in your tone.

“goodnight,” she gives you a warm look before walking towards her car and driving off. her adoring presence still felt inside your home.

the following day is filled with anxious thoughts and the overwhelming knowledge of knowing your night will be occupied by wanda. you know that she will be by your side the whole night, but knowing you’ll be in her world for a few hours is what causes your stomach to churn.

over the past few weeks, wanda has brought a sense of warmth to your everyday life that you hadn’t known before. her attentiveness and willingness to help you keeps you growing a liking to her more and more.

but tonight feels different— you’ll be crossing over into her world.

you’re seated at your vanity finishing up your makeup as your hair sets in place when you get a call from wanda. your heart beats a bit faster at the contact picture that takes over your lock screen. you’d taken a picture of her sipping her coffee while looking over the rim at you. her eyes twinkled as she made eye contact with you, and her small smile made brought one of your own over your face— even with nerves boiling in your chest.

“hi, wands,” you put the call on speaker as you grab your dress to put on. the black beading on the bodice catches your eye in the light— a reminder of wanda’s thoughtfulness. you still can’t believe wanda went out of her way to get you a dress like this.

“hi, you,” wanda’s warm voice comes through the call and it immediately coaxes a laugh out of you. “i’ll be at yours in about 20 minutes. do you need me to bring you anything?”

wanda is an incredibly thoughtful person and is always checking up on you— and today is no different. she’s sent you a few texts throughout the day sprinkled with reassurance and care.

“no, ma’am,” you say as you put the dress on, allowing yourself to marvel in its entirety and how perfect it fits. “just need you to get here.”

your voice is light and teasing, and you’re sure wanda can hear.

in fact, she can, and it makes her heart skip a beat. her fingers drum on her steering wheel as she prays the red light turns green. all she can think about is getting to you as quickly as possible.

“as you wish,” her voice softer now. “i’ll be there in two seconds.”

you two hang up and soon you’re walking to your front door fully dressed to accompany wanda’s event. on the other side of the door is a fully nervous business woman who can’t stop messing with her hair and blazer while she waits for you to open the door.

when you finally open the door, she looks up quickly and stiffens just a bit, then smiles widely as she takes the sight of you in.

her eyes rake over you as she takes every detail in— the way the dress hugs your body, the subtle curl of your hair, and the glow of your skin.

“hi,” her eyes travel from the dress up to your eyes, her face visibly turning a shade of pink, unable to stop the smile adorning her face, “you look.. wow. the dress is.. perfect. you’re perfect.”

her compliment makes your cheek burn and you can’t help but try to bite back a shy smile. wanda lets out a small laugh as she notices your bashfulness.

“thank you, wanda. you look beautiful.”

you look over the taller woman’s figure, at the way she looks poised in her well tailored suit. “i love you in suits.”

it was meant to just be a friendly compliment, but she way wanda immediately became shy was something you would pay to see again. her nose scrunches gently and she tries her best to not look you in the eye as she thanks you.

for a moment, you two stand there like giddy teenagers until wanda wanda finally clears her throat, offering you her arm with a nervous laugh.

“shall we?”

you nod as you slip your arm through hers. the soft fabric of her blazer rubbing against your skin somehow grounds you as you take in the moment. wanda gazes at you while she guides you into her car, admiring how your smile has yet to leave your face.

you two sit in the car en route to the event, making small conversation in attempts to ease the nerves that the both of you have.

“how’s my girl?” wanda asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. you look over at her with a confused expression, eyebrows scrunched together.

she looks at you with an amused look, “i’m talking about valerie.. you know, the tiny little girl with the same dimples as you? the sweet little four year old?” wanda teases you slightly, letting out a little laugh.

you roll your eyes and softly hit her arm that’s resting on the gear shift. “yes, i know my niece. she’s okay, still the same girly girl you met a month ago.”

wanda nods as you catch her up to speed with your niece— and how she keeps asking for her. in fact, it catches wanda off guard but she loves the idea of the little girl asking to see her again. after all, it gives her an excuse to be around you more often.

pulling the car into the valet area, she looks over at you with a grin. you groan, knowing that it only means trouble.

“let me take you and valerie out on a girls date.” her grin widens as she takes your hand in hers, her thrumb brushing over the top of your hand.

your brows raise, and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. the casual way she said it, like blending herself into your world is something she wouldn’t mind, makes your heart flutter.

“thank about it, okay?” she says with a teasing smirk as she gets out and hands the keys to the valet, “let’s just get through tonight first.”

her hand rests on the small of your back as she guides you into the building, the world moving as you walk in.

it’s overwhelming, the glamour of it all. high ceilings with glittering chandeliers, but the polite hum of conversations enveloping you reminds you you’re not alone in this room. everything feels so polished and poised, you’re not in your element.

wanda walks you around, holding some sort of physical contact with you and introduces you to a few of her colleagues. they are all lovely people who enjoy conversing with you about your line of work and passions. slowly but surely, you’re falling into an gentle rhythm— wanda’s hand on your back reminding you that you’re not alone.

she stays close to you and you cling to the warm comfort she brings— the way she looks at you with a soft smile. her steady and warm voice grounds you as she whispers words of reassurance, making the night seem entirely less daunting.

“you’re doing great,” she whispers into your ear as she squeezes your hip gently. somehow throughout the night, wanda ended up with her arm around your waist.

you manage a small smile as you adjust the straps of your dress while you glance over the room, watching everyone mingle with one another. you swallow hard as you take in the people in their tailored suits and effortless fashion.

wanda notices— of course she does. even with business going on, she’s got an eye on you. you’re her priority tonight. she steps closer to you, her fingers grazing your palm easily, a quiet gesture of reassurance.

“i’ve got you,” wanda whispers lowly so just you can hear, “i’m with you, okay?”

your heart aches at her words, you look up at her with a grin— you’re not alone.

before you can even reply, you’re cut off by a voice.

“well, maximoff, you’ve got… unique taste in company,” the sharp voice cuts through you and you immediately want to retreat.

your stomach drops and you hardly have the chance to even react before wanda instinctively pulls you closer.

her expression sharpens, the teasing and comforting energy you’ve grown so accustomed to immediately fades into something more firm and commanding.

“i would be careful if i were you when it comes to speaking about her.” her voice is laced with edge and sharpness.

the woman blinks, taken aback at wanda’s sudden shift in energy. wanda is known to be a firm but understanding boss, so for her to take on a firm authoritative role catches her off guard. wanda doesn’t give her a chance to recover, her posture straightening, a quiet but undeniable authority radiating from her.

“i’d think twice before making comments like that in my presence,” her voice is even, but firm, “don’t forget who signs your checks.”

the woman’s face pales and she blinks rapidly, muttering an apology, but wanda’s state has them taking a few steps back until they disappear into the crowd.

wanda’s hand finds your waist as she pulls you closer into her, her stern expression melting into something softer as she looks at you. “are you okay?” she’s speaking gently to you, her thumb rubbing against the fabric of your dress.

you nod, your stomach churning at the interaction, “i’m sorry, wanda. i didn’t mean to cause any—“

she shakes her head, interrupting you firmly. “don’t apologize for anything. don’t let anyone here make you feel uncomfortable.”

she leans in slightly, “you’re here because i want you here,” her voice holds a sincerity, “let’s step away for a bit, okay?”

you blindly follow wanda as she leads you with a hand on your waist to a more secluded area of the hall. she’s got you sat on a bench outside on a terrace. the lights on the railings add a sense of whimsy to the otherwise overwhelming evening.

“don’t pay attention to her or anyone else in this room.” wanda says as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. you two have yet to take any further steps towards a romantic relationship, but wanda knows you need to ground yourself with physical touch.

she scans your face as you take in her words, her eyes full of worry. “she doesn’t matter, i promise.”

nodding, almost absentmindedly, as wanda speaks to you with sincerity and patience. “thank you, wanda.”

her lips curve into a faint smile as she takes in the way you look up at her with doe eyes, “always.”

for a moment, she lingers and takes in the moment. in the quiet space between you, you realize that wanda isn’t just with you tonight, she’s standing for you.

wanda hesitates a bit before placing a comforting hand on your thigh, getting your attention. “i just..” she takes in a sharp breath, “i can’t lose.. this.”

her voice is quiet and steady, she doesn’t elaborate on what she means. you look at her face, the way you can see her mentally battling between wanting to say more and wanting to keep something to herself.

your chest tightens as you take in her vulnerability. wanda maximoff, the always composed, is now in front of you with a flicker of uncertainty hiding behind her eyes. your heart aches at how small she looks now.

placing a hand on top of hers, you move to where she can see you clearly, “you won’t, i promise.”

she nods, taking in your reassuring words. you rub your thumb over her knuckles in a way to help steady her, a gesture that’s just as comforting to her as it is to you.

she doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you— but in the space between you two, the air seems heavier and laden with something so precious and fragile.

[amiaclone]

Hii!! Can i request a player 120/ hyun ju (hopefully i got her name right) eith a teen reader who got into the games with lying about her age so she can get her sick mother medicine?

I LOVE THIS ONEEE

*You slowly eat your rice while reimagining the events that took place*

*You barely and i mean barely just survived the last game there was no way you’d survive the next one now that your arm is sprained*

*To be frank you shouldn’t even be here if the creators of this game ever found out your age you’d probably be kicked out…..or killed.*

*You told everyone you were in your early 20s but your a few years younger then that a teenager*

*You were here to get the money to buy the treatment of your mother who’s battling to live*

*Just one more game and you’ll have the amount of money! You weren’t sure you were gonna make it though…*

*Honestly you don’t even know how the people didn’t find out you were lying you assumed they had all the data off everyone*

*I mean your records do lie about your age as you’ve been using them over the years to get certain stuff as your mother has been sick for awhile how long…..four years? You’ve had to lie about your age to get certain jobs and such it’s illigel but honestly…..the system is failing her…*

*She’s gotten worse you weren’t even sure if she was gonna live but this game was the only thing you had left*

*You weren’t even sure if you looked older or younger or your age so you were for sure that people were gonna find out how old you were….nobody really seemed to care or notice though*

*Except one anyway.*

*You haven’t really interacted with much people except a few one of them being Hyun-Ju*

*She was a kind lady who helped you get past the first few games so you’ve gotten close*

*You feel as if she can see right through you it’s not like it’s bad or anything it’s just…..you wonder if she’s gonna do anything after all most people in this game are clearly losing there minds you thought only a matter of time till you or even her….*

“Y/n?”

*You looked up speaking of the girl you were thinking about it was Hyun ju seeming serious you quirked an eyebrow*

“Need something?”

*You noticed her eyeing your arm so you tugged it hiding it acting like it was fine*

“Your arm…” *She couldn’t help but blurt out you forced a smile* “Im fine it just hurts a bit”

*She didn’t seem to buy it and sat down getting close you moved your arm instinctively*

“I’m not going to touch your arm don’t worry…I was just gonna ask…”

*She got close to your ear*

“What’s a young person like you doing here”

*You paused atleast she whispered it and cleared your throat awkwardly*

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

*She stares at you blankly*

“Most people can tell……probably you look your age there’s no way your not under 18 or 18…”

*You mentally groaned*

“Ok so what you’re gonna tell or something?”

*She shook her head*

“No don’t worry it’s just I’m curious….why is someone so young in a place like this?”

*You sighed it’s not like she was being rude so you didn’t mind telling her*

“My mother is sick she needs treatment and *I* don’t have the money.”

*She was stunned for a second*

“Well why isn’t your dad here?”

*You tensed* “Not that it matters he bailed on us when he found out she was sick didn’t wanna deal with it” *She nodded in understanment* “I understand what you’re going through I’m sorry anyways”

*She was right she could understand her parents and siblings cut off contact too for something out of her control*

*You shook your head* “It’s fine he wasn’t that good of a father anyways all I need is one more game…..with my student loans that were originally for my tuition I’ll use that and the money for her treatment!”

*She stared in pity* “What about your future?” *Your smile faltered a bit* “I’ll just….have to manage I’d rather my mother be treated though”

*She sympathised with you heavily* “Well if we get out i have a bit of money i can give…we can split.”

*You quivered your eyebrows unsure if she’s sincere or what.*

“Well if we even make it past this game…” *You glanced at your arm*

*She smiled sincerely* “I’ll protect you and I’ll promise that if anything happens I’ll have to die in here.”

*You stared shocked* “You don’t have to do that-“

*She cut you off* “Oh i insist! The two of us are at one bad dad except my two parents cut off contact and in debt to something we desperately need” *she smiles* “You might wanna hide your arm behind your back incase you look weak”

*You we’re still stunned she was taking the situation so well*

“Wow you’re….so nice for a game like this.”

*She shook it off bashful*

“Oh don’t worry I’m sure most people with common sense would do the same here like I’m doing.”

“I promise y/n i will protect you.” *she ruffles your hair a bit*

Soo yeah sorry if this seemed ooc i tried to make her as accurate as possible 😭

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[star-sim]

show me how ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: jake didn't think his casual crush on you, his hot coworker at the local ice cream parlor, would flourish into anything. but one day, after a power outage during a shift, the two of you are forced to huddle up together to keep warm, opening up many, many, many doors into your relationship. ice cream was sweet and soft. and despite your appearance, so were you. ☆ genre: coworkers to lovers, fluff, a lot of bickering, alternative! reader, jake is kind of a loser, rock references, nonchalant crushes, summer romance, baddie reader, JAKE IS JUST REALLY DOWN BAD ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive? just tbh its js jake being really attracted to you LOL ☆ word count: 12.3k ☆ joining @bywons 1k event for "show me how" by men i trust. i had a little bit of a different approach to crushes this time. this is extremely late im so sorry enjoy!

"Can I get uhhhhh…"

Jake deadpanned for the 15th time in the past hour.

He was trying to be kind, to be understanding, to be loving in all ways possible… He really was.

But was it that difficult to order a mint chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles?!

Jake watched as the snotty child before him picked his nose, his eyes glazing over the menu. It’s been ten minutes and this kid was taking too long to order. For fuck’s sake, he was holding up the line!

For his summer job, Jake started working at the ice cream parlor near the pier. He thought it was a good idea, since the pay was above minimum wage and he liked ice cream.

Wrong!

It was horrible!

From rude customers to his asshole of a boss to his incompetent coworkers, Jake dreaded coming into work everyday.

It was another summer afternoon, where Jake slaved away for his corporate overlords. Summer was only kicking off, so the June gloom stuck like glue. This morning, there were already storm warnings, so imagine Jake's surprise when a whole bunch of people went to the beach today and the ice cream parlor next to it.

"Please take your time," Jake said with a tight-lipped smile. Translation: I’ve given you enough time, kid. Hurry up and order or I’ll actually snap.

The kid blinked at Jake, before picking his nose. "Can I get uhhhh…"

Jake winced, but forced a smile with a nod. "Would you like any recommendations?"

Translation: You better tip me, you little punk.

By now, he could see the angry mothers and kids at the back of the line, quietly complaining about the hold-up. All Jake could do was smile apologetically, hanging his head in embarrassment.

And to Jake's horror, as the snotty little kid was still deciding on what he wanted to order, Jake could hear the back door creaking open, followed by a "Bye, Jake!" before it slammed.

Did Jake ever say that he hated his coworkers?

Today wasn't even Jake's shift, but he had to cover three shifts, because his other coworkers couldn't give a damn. They loved to leave early because they knew that Jake would work his ass off either way. So here he was, now forced to run an entire ice cream parlor with already angry customers all by himself!

"Actually, I don't want anything," the snotty kid blinked at Jake. "Bye, mister."

With that, the kid left, oblivious to Jake's gawking face.

You've got to be kidding me.

If it weren't for the fact that his name tag had his name printed in big, thick letters and that there was already a line of impatient customers, Jake might have yelled.

As he put on his customer-service voice for the next customer in line, Jake could hear the back door creak open again if he listened past the generic pop music playing in the background.

And the moment that he heard a familiar voice, Jake nearly ascended into the sky.

"Jake, I'm here!"

There was only one part of working at this dinky little ice cream parlor that Jake liked.

And it was you.

His savior, you.

You were the only coworker that actually did your work. In fact, you went above and beyond. The only shifts that seemed to be productive on all ends were when it was you and Jake.

If he could recall correctly, today wasn't your scheduled shift either. You were probably covering someone's shift like him, too.

And plus, you were cute.

Really cute.

Jake never really thought he had a "type" when it came to girls. In fact, Jake couldn't even remember the last time he had a crush. But the moment he saw your smudged eyeliner, constant annoyed look, the multiple tassel and charm bracelets on your wrists, and your black nail polish, he knew that you were his type.

You looked like you could probably scare a baby with a single look. Honestly, you could make Jake piss himself with a single look, too. And for some reason, he liked it. A lot. Which was weird.

Within seconds of just arriving, you were already throwing on your apron, fixing up your work uniform before appearing at the counter, ready to do your fucking job.

Jake tried his best to focus on the group of middle schoolers who giggled over every word as they ordered their ice cream, but even from behind him, he could hear you cleaning one of the scoopers and getting the keys for the second cash register. Even though all you were doing was your job, Jake couldn't help but straighten up his posture and run a hand through his hair as you took the register beside him. Just in case you spared him a glance, he had to look his best.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you said chirpily, putting on your best customer-service voice, something that Jake could tell was not your forte. Although he didn't know you seriously, he's had conversations in passing with you, whether it be on slow days, during breaks, or as the two of you closed up the parlor together. You never sounded as enthusiastic as you did now, as you happily helped an old lady pick her order.

You were cool like that.

Actually, really cool.

Jake couldn't think of anyone cooler than you.

And you were pretty, and hardworking, and honest, and responsible, and cooperative, and a little bit scary, but that was hot. You were also very kind to customers, and even though Jake could see your lips— which were nice, by the way— twitch, he could tell that you were trying your best, which was good, and—

"Um, sir, can I order now?"

Jake snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from you.

"R-Right!"

Completely missing the way you rolled your eyes at him, though without a little chuckle.

It wasn't always easy being the only competent worker at the parlor. While it meant you got paid more for covering so many shifts, you couldn't say it was fun working the late shifts.

The parlor closed at 11PM on weekdays, so here you were, working late into the night. 

You yawned as you rang up the last customer of the night, using all of your last bits of strength to muster a smile, before saying, "Have a good night!"

As the door slammed shut, the building winds outside providing more than enough force to ring through the entire parlor, you let out a sigh.

"They're gone, Jake," you called.

From inside the break room, you could hear Jake groan something muffled but definitely, "Finally."

Jake Sim was the only coworker you could rely on. He was the only person your age, both of you were freshly graduated highschoolers working to prepare for college experiences. Despite his party-boy look, he was surprisingly diligent. You definitely noticed how he ended up picking up another person's shift, just like you. Unlike everyone else, he actually gave a damn, which you could appreciate.

Tonight was no different from any other.

It was just Jake and you, working the closing shift together.

The moment you entered the break room, you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the door frame. Jake, too, was slumped over on the table, his face buried in his arms.

Your shitty coworkers always tried to convince you that you should be happy to work extra shifts: extra pay, more work experience, have a good rep with the boss.

But what they didn't mention was how absolutely draining it was to work 7 hours straight in a short-staffed busy ice cream parlor.

"Why were there so many people?" Jake groaned, shoving his face deeper into his arms. If you weren't exhausted out of your mind, you would've thought the scene before you was a funny sight. Jake, in his silly white uniform designed to look like that of a sailor's and crooked worker hat, practically melting on the break room table.

"And why were there only two of us?" you added, letting your eyelids fall shut as you leaned against the door frame.

Though, you would say, you did like working for one extra reason: Jake Sim himself.

He was as cute as a button, and pretty easy to talk to.

Jake lifted his head, quickly checking his phone.

"No seriously," he rested his face on his fist. "It was cold and dreary all day— and wasn't there a storm warning?— Why would anyone want to get ice cream on a day like this?"

You shrugged. "Beats me."

The two of you stayed in the break room in silence for a few more moments, catching your breaths after a long day. "Let's get outta here, Jake."

Here was your favorite part of the work day: closing up. Not just because it meant that you got to leave, but you could do whatever you wanted.

Jake locked up the front door and flipped the sign, while you locked up front displays and cash registers. The two of you tidied up the breakroom (which was empty because your slobs of coworkers weren't here), before pulling out the mops and cleaning up the floor.

This was the fun part.

"Hey!" Jake cried as you splashed water onto the floor, your wet mop sludging up the water as it moved against the checkered floor. Looks like some of the water got onto his pants. "What was that for?"

You shrugged, with a sly grin. "No reason in particular— Hey!"

Jake shook off the excess water on his mop, pointed directly at you, the water droplets spraying all over your shirt.

"See?" he pointed to the wet drops on your shirt. "We're even now."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was being playful.

It was fun now because this was the time that you could play whatever music you wanted. Your manager always insisted that you'd play generic pop music during store hours, but now that it was closed, you could play any music you wanted. And it was great, because you and Jake had the same music taste.

"Really?" you whipped your head over to Jake as he passed your phone, which controlled the sound system, back to you. "Bon Jovi?"

You winced as loud vocals, strong guitar riffs, and a drum louder than you could imagine blasted through the speakers.

"Bon Jovi is good!" Jake shouted all the way from the freezers.

Maybe your taste was just a little bit different.

Jake was a cool guy. He really was. Very personable and someone that you could have fun with, even if you weren't that close to him. But sometimes his music choices were too much.

"You have no reason to be blasting hard rock at 11PM," you murmured.

"I heard that!"

You stifled a chuckle.

As you cleaned the floors, you nodded your head to the music. You could hear humming along wherever he was. It was all quiet, only the sound of mops, the freezers' buzzing, and your queued music playing in the background. It was small moments like his that made you want to keep working (other than the pay).

And plus, the parlor was very close to the beach.

At times like this, you could hear seagulls squawking overhead, with waves crashing against the shoreline.

Which... now that you thought about it...

Why couldn't you hear any of that?

Usually, even if Jake was blasting the hardest rock, you could still hear the sounds of the sea.

But now, all you heard was wind.

You glanced out the window.

Palm trees blew against the night sky. Wind whirled, creating a howling sound.

And before you could think anything of it, you heard two things: the back door slamming, and the sound of electricity buzzing.

One moment you could see everything, and the next moment it was completely dark.

Your blood ran cold.

The music stopped. The buzzing of the freezers stopped, too. It was completely dark, so dark that you couldn't even see your own hands, save for the single stream of moonlight leaking through the front windows.

You would consider yourself a calm person, you really would.

But in that moment, you felt panic set in.

Because here you were, working a late shift in a tiny little ice cream parlor in the middle of the beach, with no one but your teenage coworker. And now all the power went out.

And because you were afraid of the dark.

The mop in your hand dropped, clunking! against the checkered flooring.

Your heart pounded, so loud that you could hear it in your ears. You could feel it jumping out of your chest.

"J-Jake?" you called out.

No response.

Your mind did wonders to scare you, and now it was working over time.

What happened to Jake? Did he disappear with the lights too? You dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Were you all alone in the dark? Just you and this dark abyss, a dark abyss so suffocating yet so cold that you couldn't even tell if you were standing or curled up. By this time, your legs were feeling weak, so you wouldn't be surprised if you were on the floor, your knees to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The howling of the wind sent chills down your spine. Realistically, nothing could get you. You were just at work, like always, but it was just dark. But you felt like something would jump out at you, something scary and from your worst nightmares. It would get you, maybe hurt you. Were you going to die? Why did you feel so alone? What happened to everyone? What happened to Jake—

"[Name]?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes shot open.

But instead of being met with a pure, unknown darkness, you were met with a tall figure before you, completely shrouded in darkness, save for the stream of yellow light coming to illuminate its face.

Terrifying.

You let out a shriek as you jumped back.

What the hell was that? Was that what got Jake?—

It took a step forward, and before you could scream again—

"[Name]!" it was Jake's voice. He reached out for you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "It's me, Jake!"

You heard a bit of clicking, and it was then that you realized that the scary figure that you saw was just Jake with a flashlight. You relaxed.

"You okay?" Jake crouched down to your curled up figure, the yellow light of the flashlight glimmering against the floor. Although your eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, you could see your hands now. "I think the power went out."

You nodded slowly, still with your knees against your chest. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You felt Jake's hand reach out for yours, interlocking fingers before giving it a squeeze.

Boom!

You jumped away from Jake, a small "eep!" escaping your lips.

Jake flinched, pointing the flashlight at the front windows.

"Thunder," he muttered under his breath. Although all the streetlights and signs had shut down too, he could see the lightning as it struck in the night sky.

He glanced at your startled form.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "There was a storm warning earlier."

You hid your face in your palms.

This was everything that you didn't want to happen.

It was completely dark, and here you were practically trapped inside. It was impossible to get home, because the roads were all dark, and there was probably an oncoming storm, too. It was cold, and it was just you and your coworker. You just wanted to go home!

Although he couldn't see your face, Jake could sense your uneasiness. 

"C'mon," he tugged at your hand. "Let's go to the back."

Although Jake bumped into a few tables and counters on the way to the break room, he didn't mind. After all, there was you, who was clearly startled. He'd rather get a bruise on his hip than you.

He could hear your breath hitching, small whimpers of fear tumbling out as he led you through the dark abyss. Jake had to admit, it was much scarier when it was completely dark than when it wasn't.

The breakroom wasn't much better than in the middle of the floor, but at least there were chairs. Not that it mattered.

You and Jake decided to sit under the break table, shoulder to shoulder with the flashlight between you.

It was silent. You couldn't see Jake, but the feeling of him next to you relieved only some of your anxiety.

The flashlight only illuminated enough for you to see a few feet around you. Otherwise, everything else was a dark, bottomless void.

You knew it was illogical and practically impossible for something else to be lurking. But as minutes passed in silence, the thought of something—or someone— prowling in the dark and ready to jump out at you gnawed at you more and more. Goosebumps rose along your arms, the hair on your neck standing.

"I'm scared, Jake," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm so scared."

Thunder boomed in the air, lightning crackled, while heavy rain began to shower down. You jumped at the sound, your hands immediately shooting to grab Jake's arm and leaning into his touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, a scared squeak escaping your lips.

"I'm scared!" you squealed.

Jake's brows furrowed, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," he said into your ear, watching as you curled up against him, clutching his arm tight. "Hey, I got you."

Your hold on him only tightened as another round of thunder boomed through the night. "Open your eyes, [Name]. It's okay."

You shook your head profusely, your face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nothing's gonna get ya," he whispered, slowly rubbing circles on your back. "You're okay."

You shook your head again.

"It's so dark," you peeped. "Too dark."

"It's okay," Jake's voice was soft, soft as a cloud as he comforted you. "I'm here. I got you."

You nodded into his shoulder, but you kept your face pressed against it, not letting up.

Jake watched you, both with a soft heart and with wide eyes.

He wouldn't say he knew you too well. Even so, he'd spent a lot of time with you this summer so far, he had a few good memories with you. You were always so... cool.

Always on-task, always ready to fight a rude customer, always ready to speak up if you thought something was wrong.

It was weird. Seeing someone that Jake had always seen as a pillar of support one way or another completely drop that image of strength was… something that he never expected.

Here you were, so vulnerable in his arms.

Jake would have never expected you to be afraid of the dark, let alone some thunder, but he didn't mind. Even with your eyes closed, and even with his arms wrapped around you, you still jolted at each crackle in the sky.

If only he could do something to help you...

Jake let out an 'ah' sound.

He leaned into your ear, whispering right against the shell of your ear, "I'll be right back."

You let out another squeak as you felt Jake slipping away from you, yet he didn't take the flashlight with him.

"J-Jake—!"

"I'm still here," he said, yet you heard as he took a few steps. He was rummaging through his bag. He tried his best to feel for what he was looking for: a small, square case. "I'm with you, don't worry."

And as quick as he left your side he was back. Jake slithered his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your eyes widened a fraction as Jake fished for his phone from his back pocket.

"What were you—" you furrowed your brows— "Why’d you get up?"

You could feel Jake turn his head to look at you, and you could hear him grin.

"To get this." In his palm, Jake revealed a small, square case. His earbuds.

You blinked. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry about it." You watched confused as Jake took his earbuds out, jabbing it into the headphone port of his phone. Then, he handed you both of the ears.

"For you," he said simply.

As you were about to object, lightning striked again in the sky, yet another squeal coming from you.

You took his earbuds, jamming them into your ear.

Jake pressed the first song in his playlist.

And if you weren't scared out of your mind right now, you would have yelled at him.

Because really?

Bon Jovi?

At a time like this?

The music was loud enough that you could be distracted, but quiet enough that you could still hear Jake's voice. And when Jake noticed that you were relaxed enough, he opened his mouth.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to rip out my earbuds the moment you heard Bon Jovi," he said.

You elbowed him, yet you were still clinging onto him for dear life.

"Read the room, man," you muttered. "I'm scared shitless."

Jake laughed, and you rolled your eyes again. "This is the only time that I'll willingly listen to Bon Jovi."

"Hey!" Jake cried. "Bon Jovi is a good band."

You shot him a look. "Play some Pink Floyd, something."

You cursed Jake. Of course he'd let you listen to his music, because he got to control it!

"Nah," Jake said. "Bon Jovi is perfect for rainy nights."

You scoffed. "In what world?"

You could hear him grin again. "In my world."

What a loser.

You could see his phone screen light up, probably texts from his parents, but he ignored it. Jake’s phone was on the floor on the other side of him, the side that you were not on.

“Are you sure you won’t play Pink Floyd?” you asked slowly.

“Nope.”

Extreme times call for extreme measures.

Your arm reached across Jake’s lap, jerking to take his phone.

“Hey!” Jake yelped, squirming away from you in a way that blocked your hand from reaching his phone. “What the hell are you—“

“I’m changing the song!”

The two of you struggled like that for a few more moments, and then the next thing you knew you were on Jake’s lap, your arms pinned above your head.

“Let go of me!” you writhed, the earbuds in your eyes still blasting the hardest rock you’ve ever heard. Although you managed to take Jake’s phone, there wasn’t much you could do if he was pinning your hands above you.

“Then give me my phone back,” Jake ignored your struggling.

“Then change the song!”

“No!”

You huffed, continuing your attempt to wriggle out of Jake’s hold, but alas, he was stronger than you. “How are you so strong—“

Boom! Crackle! Thunder and lightning struck.

“Eep!” Immediately, you collapsed onto Jake’s chest, pressing your face into his shirt. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut. When you could feel his chest rumble with a few chuckles, you punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jake chuckled again, but he only pulled you in closer by the waist, allowing you to cling to him more comfortably.

As the storm raged on, any hope that the power would be back up was lost. Jake's phone still had service, but you could tell he was being polite and not going on his phone to not make you feel alienated. Your phone was somewhere in the front, probably on a counter or something.

"We really shouldn't have agreed to cover shifts today," you murmured, your cheek pressed against Jake's chest.

Jake hummed.

He wanted to get past the way that anytime you spoke to Jake, it was either about music or work. He didn't mind talking about these things with you, but he wished he could say more. He wanted to know what you were thinking, and hear about what you liked and disliked, what silly stories or memories you had to tell him.

He wanted to get to know you.

“What’s your favorite color?”

???

"What?"

Jake blinked. "What's your favorite color?"

You stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged under you. "I dunno. I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Oh." What a simple reason. It made sense for such a simple question. "I like black."

Jake scoffed. "That's not a color."

"Huh? Then what is it?"

"A shade."

"Says who?"

"Says science!"

And then it was quiet again (at least on Jake's part, you were still listening to his music)

But not quite awkward.

Despite the compromising position that you were in, there wasn't any feeling of embarrassment or discomfort.

That's how Jake would describe how he felt toward you. It was an easy thing. You were cool and pretty, and he liked you. Nothing more, nothing less. No games to play, no extra calculations or hours of planning. He liked you, and he was just going to do what felt right. It was as straightforward as that.

"What are you doing after this summer?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

That's right. You and Jake had never discussed much about your personal lives, like where you went to high school, what your plans were post-high school, etc.

And now that the two of you were alone, in the dark, with virtually nothing to do, it was the perfect time to talk about it.

"I'm going up to Santa Barbara," Jake said coolly. "I'm studying biomed engineering."

"Oooh," you mused. "How exciting."

Jake let out a chuckle. "You don't sound excited."

"I am," you deadpanned, and Jake couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was dark, Jake could hear you frown.

"I'm going to Davis for International Business." You paused. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean?"

You shrugged. "I dunno if it's really my passion. I just chose it because—"

You're interrupted by a loud bang! followed by buzzing. You jolted, tensing up in Jake's hold, whose hand shot to the small of your back protectively.

"Eek!" you cried, and the next thing you knew, all the lights were back on.

You and Jake stayed where you were for a few moments, long enough for the freezers in the back to start buzzing again. As if someone just snapped their fingers, everything turned back on. The bright lights hitting your darkness-adjusted eyes made your eyes water.

"Oh," Jake said plainly. "The lights are back on."

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered, earning a pinch to your side. It was now that you and Jake really realized your current positions: you were on top of him, with your head resting on his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around your waist. And it seemed like the two of you realized this at the same time.

"We should—" Jake averted his gaze from you, finding the floor next to him very interesting.

"Yeah, you're right, we should—" you slowly pulled away from him, grimacing at the feeling of Jake's arms slipping away from you.

"Yup, and—" Jake trailed off, not fully completing his thought.

Awkward.

The two of you were back on your feet in no time, both with slightly-disheveled work uniforms, but hey, it was to be expected.

Together, the two of you inspected the parlor. Just in case something slipped in while it was dark (even though that was virtually impossible).

Everything was exactly as you left it.

The mop that you dropped on the floor, your phone on the counter, the keys to the freezer that Jake threw by accident, even the messy chairs.

"Are you scared right now?" Jake asked with a chuckle as you stayed close behind him, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders. From time to time you'd peek around him, but for the most part, you stared straight at his back, unwilling to look ahead. Just in case a monster jumped out!

"I'm not." Lie.

Jake laughed, but before he could poke fun at you more—

Boom!

Oh right, the storm.

Like a cat, you jumped almost immediately, gripping Jake's shoulders for dear life.

Jake peeked out the windows. The streetlamps and signs were illuminated again.

"Looks like all the lights are back up," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to you, who clung to him. "I think we can go home now. The storm's dying down already."

You nodded, and the two of you finished closing up in silence, before preparing to leave.

"Do you have a ride?" Jake asked you as the two of you packed up your things.

Shit.

"My mom was going to pick me up because she didn't want me driving late at night," you groaned. "I'll call her right no—"

"No," Jake shook his head, reaching inside his pocket. You watched as he really shoved his hands in there, like he was searching for something. At last, after digging through his pockets for what felt like hours, he pulled out a bunch of keys, with a tiny lego keychain dangling off of it. "I'll drive you home."

After that day, you weren't called into work again for a few days. In those few days, for some weird reason, you couldn't get Jake off your mind. Which you thought was weird.

You never really thought about Jake aside from work. And it wasn't even the fact that you were thinking about him! It was the fact that you felt weird for feeling weird about thinking about him. If that even made sense.

He's always been cute. Gentlemanly, too.

When he drove you home the other day, he insisted that you didn't need to pay him back for driving you home. In fact, he said that he'd rather use more gas than have you wait alone at the parlor to be picked up. He opened and closed the door for you, showed you how to control the heaters so that you could be warm, and even let you play your music!

He was reliable too, someone that you knew you could count on. And he was very kind, because no matter how many rude customers there were, he understood that everyone was human and served them with a smile. Unlike you, who always exercised that "we reserve to deny you service" right.

These were all things that you knew. It was no surprise. You knew these things.

But after that day, you couldn't help but feel like it was... amplified.

Jake was cute, but now he was cuter. Way cuter.

He felt even more gentlemanly and reliable and kind now. Him going out of his way to comfort you, even if it meant that you had to listen to his god-awful music, warmed your heart.

And that was the weird part.

It was just so odd. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And you felt all weird and mushy for thinking about him, which made you feel even weirder!

You didn't really get it.

Surely, it wasn't a crush.

It wasn't like you were all over the place, distracted and spacy and blushing now that Jake was on your mind. You weren't rolling around and kicking your feet, nor were you giggling.

But you would be lying if you said that the simple thought of his name didn't make you excited.

Meanwhile, Jake knew exactly what was happening to him.

And it was that his crush on you definitely deepened tenfold.

In the moment, when he was with you, whether it be the other day or any other day at all, he was always nonchalant. It was a casual crush, he'd say. Everything was straightforward with no games to play.

But that was a lie.

Because here he was, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He hugged his pillow, embarrassingly pretending that it was you. He felt like a weirdo, but he couldn't get the feeling of you clinging to him and in his arms out of his head!

Just the mere thought of that night made him have to roll around and giggle for a few moments.

Jake sucked in the scent of his pillows. Unfortunately, they didn't smell like you, just like laundry with a faint scent of his own cologne.

You were so pretty, and cool, and kind, and smart, and practical, and just everything good in the world. And then when you got scared and clung to him, it made his heart flutter, because who knew you could be so cute?

Jake let out a squeal into his pillow, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

For the first time ever, Jake actually wanted to go to work. Just to see you.

He couldn't wait for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you said for the millionth time today. "We don't have that here—"

Another day at work. Just when the idea of going to work didn't sound too bad, you're reminded why you hate it.

Apparently some kids on TikTok spread a rumor that your parlor had a special, limited-edition, summer unicorn flavor. And even worse, your damn social media manager was hinting at it on Instagram, too.

So here you were now, trying to explain to a hoard of angry customers that this limited-edition unicorn flavor was absolutely false. To think that your own social media manager would betray you and your coworkers like this just to attract more customers... You shouldn't be unsurprised but you were.

Diabolical.

It must've been the 90th time in the past hour that you had to explain that you had no fucking clue what a unicorn flavor would be, and if you weren't a tired and overworked teenager, you would've felt bad when a little girl bursted into tears in the middle of the store.

Cry about it, you thought, and you couldn't tell if that sentiment was towards your angry customers, or if it was towards upper management that were about to get multiple complaints about you.

Breathe, you had to tell yourself. It's not worth it. Where was everyone else anyway? You couldn't believe that you were left completely alone to operate the establishment on your own. And most of your coworkers were older than you anyway. Those bums!

You sucked in another breath, putting on your best smile.

"You're telling me that you don't actually have the limited-edition unicorn flavor?!" an angry father crossed his arms, upset with his children cowering beside him.

"No, sir," you said as politely as you could. "That was just a rumor. My apologies for the inconven—"

"Unacceptable!"

You winced, feeling your ears warm up. If everyone in the parlor wasn't already watching you like a hawk, all eyes were now on you.

"I had to drive two hours here," the father slammed his hand on the counter, leaning in so close that you could smell him. "I drove two hours here for unicorn ice cream and you're telling me that it was all a lie?!"

All of this.... for ice cream?"

"I apologize, sir," you hung your head low to appear genuine, clasping your hands together. "That must have been a long ride and—"

"Shut up and give me my ice cream, you bi—" Your eyes widened a fraction as you saw a big palm swinging your way... Was he about to slap you? In the milliseconds that you could even react, you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the stinging feeling of a hand against your cheek.

But instead, you felt nothing, only the sound of a few gasps and light chuckling.

"Hey, there, sir," you heard Jake's voice as you peeled your eyes open.

Jake was beside you, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist that was mere inches away from your face.

"J-Jake?!"

The man struggled in Jake's grip, attempting (and failing horribly) to pull his wrist out of Jake's hand.

"Let go of me, boy!" he yelled. Everyone's eyes were on the scene now. How embarrassing.

Jake narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip.

"Here at Layla's Ice Cream Parlor, we reserve the right to deny any patron service," he said plainly.

The man scoffed. "And are you about to deny me service? What are you, the manager?"

Jake only shook his head calmly.

"You were about to assault my coworker here," he motioned toward you, then to the man's still-raised hand. "I don't need to be any manager to realize that someone of that sort has no business here."

Jake shot him a smile, before roughly letting go of his wrist, letting it fall to the counter.

"Please leave, sir."

He glanced around the room, noticing the way everyone stared at him. Another tight-lipped smile spread on his face.

"There are no limited-edition summer flavors, so if that is what you are here for, I apologize for the disappointment. " Jake glanced at you. "Please help yourself to the flavors that we actually have."

With that, Jake took you by the wrist, pulling you into the breakroom.

"W-Wait Jake—!" you tried to pull out of his grasp. "There's still customers out there."

He gently pushed you down onto a chair.

Jake crouched down at your sitting figure, putting his hands on your knees. He squeezed them playfully. "You've done enough today. I'll handle the rest."

"But— But there's a lot of people today," you reasoned, placing your hands on his. "You can't run the entire place on your own...!"

But before the last syllables could even leave your lips, Jake was already retying his apron, fixing his dumb uniform hat. Before he slinked away through the door, he glanced over his shoulder, gripping the door frame.

"I'll prove you wrong," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

(You were right, he was wrong. Not even the most exemplary worker like Jake could handle an entire exuberant ice cream parlor by himself. The moment you saw his tired eyes you were already throwing on your apron. Though, you got a good laugh out of it afterwards.)

You deadpanned.

This was not what you signed up for.

It was Saturday, the day that you swore was your break day from work. And then all of a sudden you got an urgent call from your manager and you rushed to work immediately.

You thought that the parlor got robbed, or maybe something broke down.

Nope.

"You want me..." you blinked, "To wear that?!"

Lo and behold, before you was a comically large ice cream costume, with a brown waffled body for the cone and the most obnoxious white swirl reaching high in the ceiling, with only a circular cut-out to see your face.

Apparently, sales were dwindling, so your managers decided to try out some new advertising.

You were going to wear that godforsaken ice cream costume and hang outside the parlor to attract customers.

"Kid-friendly language only," your manager instructed you matter-of-factly. "No swearing, no saying mean words."

You tuned him out.

And if the walk of shame out of the bathroom in your ice cream costume wasn't bad enough, you were hit with the last thing you wanted to see: Jake Sim.

You were about to jump and shriek and let the ground open up and devour you whole... when you realized that he was wearing an ice cream costume too...!

"You too?!" you cried. Behold, in front of you stood your favorite coworker Jake Sim with an equally deadpan expression, clad in the ridiculous ice cream costume.

"Yup," Jake muttered, popping the p. "I guess we'll never be free."

And he was indeed correct.

There was truly nothing more mortifying than standing outside the damn ice cream parlor, holding an even more obnoxiously bright sign and trying to attract customers... all in your humiliating ice cream costume.

Kids laughed at you from across the street. Cars that passed by you probably did the same. Absolutely demoralizing.

"Come to Layla's Ice Cream Parlor," you said in a monotone voice, trying your very best to not burst into tears of sheer embarrassment. "We have ice cream... and... uh—"

You glanced at Jake, whispering to him, "What else do we have?"

"Ice cream." He said, absolutely no expression in his voice or face. Oh god, we must have lost him too! "Nothing but ice cream."

Poor guy, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

This must have been a punishment, or something. Maybe a humiliation ritual. But after a good ten minutes, you and Jake just decided to commit to the bit. After all, you were getting paid extra for this.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" you and Jake chanted as you paraded around the vicinity of the parlor. After all, there was nothing you could do but make the best of it. You went out of your way to speak to oncoming customers, advertising with the most energy you could. "Come to Layla's Ice Cream!"

But it wasn't always easy.

Like always, customers and children were rude.

"Hello, miss, are you interested in trying some of Layla's yummy yummy ice cre—" and then you got laughed at. Like actually. They just started pointing and laughing at you. Like you were some freak.

And then Jake tried to square up some little kids a few times, it was a mess.

And finally, after what felt like years out there trying to advertise to people, your manager finally called you guys back in. Apparently, you and Jake did such a wonderful job that you guys were needed back at the front. Your coworkers couldn't seem to keep up. Lazy asses.

You and Jake went back inside to change back into your work uniforms— those stupid blue and white sailor uniforms. Except, one of your coworkers was having an "emergency" in the staff bathroom (you were certain it was just Beomgyu sitting on the toilet with his phone and refusing to do his job), so both you and Jake had to change in the staff break room.

At the same time.

"Okay, you will change, and I will cover you—"

"Shut up!" you exclaimed. "Why can't we just change at the same time?"

Jake was being terribly awkward about it.

"B-Because!" he reasoned, unable to hide the way he couldn't look you in the eye. "Because.... you're a girl, and I'm a guy!"

"Aaaaand?" you drew out your syllables, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We can't possibly change in the same room?" Jake cried. "What if— What if I accidentally see your—"

Your cheeks warmed up. What was he on about? "You're not going to!"

Your boss was really annoying about punctuality, so you and Jake should probably change quickly anyway. You ignored Jake's fussing, raising your arms as you began to pull your shirt over your head.

"What are you—"

"Just change!"

In the end, you guys just did the easiest option: turning around so that you faced opposite directions while the other changed... which should have been intuitive for Jake (but he's a little slow).

When you two were both done changing, you turned back around to face Jake, about to let out your grievances about working.

Except, when you saw him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Because your work uniform was supposed to resemble that of a sailor, there were a few complex pieces, such as the sailor scarf draped over your shoulders and neck. Usually, you need a mirror to tie it properly. There was also the damn paper sailor hat that you had to wear.

Since you weren't changing in the bathroom, there was no mirror, so poor Jake's hat and tie were sloppily done, crooked on his person.

"Jake," you smiled, motioning for him to come toward you. And when he was close enough, you yanked him even closer to you by his shoulders, causing him to let out a yelp.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

You giggled again. Your hands began to work on his tie, undoing his sloppy tie and neatly folding it. "Relax, you big baby."

When you were done with his tie, you fixed Jake's hat, oblivious to the way Jake's ears and neck turned a noticeable shade of red.

"There you go," you said with a grin. "All good!"

Jake looked at you with shaky eyes. You were close to him now. Close enough that he could feel your breath fanning his cheeks. Close enough that if he just leaned in a bit more, he could kiss you— Jake jerked himself away from you abruptly. His heart was pounding in his chest at an abnormal rate.

Don't think about kissing her when she's right in front of you! he scolded himself. You gave him a questioning look, before you just grinned again and left the break room.

Ah, Jake was going crazy.

Man, fuck you Beomgyu! you mentally cursed your other coworker. You were absolutely correct; earlier he was indeed hogging the staff bathroom so that he could shirk his responsibilities. According to Jake, Beomgyu did this really often, to the point that the staff bathroom ran out of soap too fast because Beomgyu was busy playing with soap and making dumb ass bubbles in there.

Of all times, it had to be now that the staff bathroom just decided to run out of soap?

It was getting late, so your manager told you to start cleaning. And just as you began, some little unsupervised middle schooler skateboarded right into you, spilling his three scoops of chocolate ice cream with layers of caramel and peanut butter sauce all over your white uniform.

And all you were given were a few measly napkins to wipe but the sticky sweet mess, only after you cleaned up the mess on the floor. Now as you desperately tried to clean the mess off your uniform in the staff bathroom, you were certain that your manager was going to yell at you later.

As you reached for another hand towel from the dispenser, you let out a groan as you realized that there were no more. Seriously, what was Beomgyu doing in here that he just used up all the soap and paper towels?

"[Name]," you heard a knock on the door. It was Jake. "You good in there?"

You groaned again.

"No!" you cried from the other side of the door. You were frustrated, how bothersome! Even if there were more paper towels, there still was a giant brown stain on your shirt. And you'd probably have to get another uniform. "It looks like a shit stain!"

You heard Jake chuckle from the other side of the door, before his footsteps retreated. After a few minutes, Jake came back.

"Can I come in?" he asked, knocking again on the bathroom door.

"Door's unlocked."

Except, instead of seeing Jake in his usual work uniform, he had a big black hoodie thrown over him, probably one that he was wearing before he changed into his uniform earlier. In his hands was a white shirt.

"Wear this," he said as he shoved the white shirt into your hands.

It was his own uniform shirt.

"But—" you tried to reason with him, but he put his hand up, silencing you.

"Can't have you walking around with a shit stain on your shirt," he said with a cheeky grin, earning him a slap on the arm.

"But you'll get in trouble," you breathed. Your manager was really particular about workers wearing uniforms, and for some reason not about workers actually doing their job.

Jake shrugged. "It's about time I did." And flashed you another smile. "And plus, I was going to get in trouble anyway. Apparently, defending my coworker from a rude customer is punishable."

Ah, the unicorn ice cream incident from a few weeks ago.

Was he really that willing to get in trouble for you?

As you closed the door to the bathroom, you could already hear your manager and another coworker making their comments about Jake. Although you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, it must have been the usual remarks about inefficiency. And probably about how he wasn't wearing work-appropriate clothes.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you listened to their muffled voices.

Jake was really getting in trouble all for your sake.

As you buttoned up his white shirt, you noted that it carried the scent of his cologne. It smelled good, and you instinctively brought the sleeve up to your nose to catch a better whiff. But then you felt weird and stopped immediately.

It wasn't fair. Everything about your job.

You and Jake had to do all the work, but even so, the managers were disproportionately harsher with Jake than they were with you. Probably because of some sexist bullshit.

And then there were rude and entitled customers.

Jake was taking the fall for you too much.

And you couldn't keep letting it happen.

As you made your way out of the staff bathroom, you could hear your manager berating Jake, with another coworker joining in.

"And why are you not in our employee dress code?" your manager chided. "This is unacceptable! A hoodie? What do you think will happen to our store's brand?"

Jake just hung his head low, but you could tell he was annoyed more than anything. "It was because [Name]'s shirt got ruined, and she was uncomfortable."

"And what business do you have with [Name]?" your coworker joined in lambasting the poor Jake.

"Look, man," Jake looked up at them. "I was just helpin' her out." Jake paused for a moment. "And plus it's closing hours anyway. It's not like anyone sees me out of uniform."

Your manager and coworker thought for a few moments, before your coworker said, "Well, you're still causing a hindrance for our parlor. I think we will cut you weekly pay—"

His weekly pay? Ridiculous. Your body moved on its own, and before you knew it, you had bursted through the door.

"I-It was my fault!" you blurted, your lips moving faster than you could think. "Jake was just helping me."

You ignored the way Jake looked at you with eyes big as saucers, surprised. You swiped your tongue over your lip. "I-It's really my fault. If there's anyone that should get their weekly pay cut, it should be me."

Jake's face visibly contorted, his brows crashing together. "[Name]—"

"That's enough," your manager finally spoke up. The older man sighed, before checking his wrist watch. "Jake, [Name], just forget about it. Don't make this mistake again. Just close up for the night."

And with that, you and Jake were left alone once more.

"What was that all about?" Jake asked you as the two of you closed up.

"What was what?"

Jake huffed, leaning on the mop. "You know, what happened earlier about uniforms?"

"Oh." You shrugged, not really paying him any mind. "What about it?"

Jake huffed again. "Y'know... Why did you step in?"

You finally looked at him, before blinking a few times. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Jake smiled. "No, that’s why I’m asking you."

You scoffed playfully. "Okay, smartass."

You paused for a few moments. "You’re my friend, Jake. You’ve protected me in the past, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Thank you," Jake replied, unable to hide the smile growing on his face. "That's very kind of you.

You just hummed in response, going back to cleaning up.

Jake teetered on his feet, back and forth, as he played with his fingers. His heart pounding in his chest, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

He was nervous.

Just this morning, you texted him if he wanted to hang out with you, because as you said, you were bored.

Hanging out? With you? The hottest girl that he's ever seen? There was no way in hell that he'd say no to such a golden opportunity.

You'd told Jake to meet you at the pier, because there was a nice mall area around there. As you relayed in your texts, you were going on vacation in a few weeks, and needed to go shopping for it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. You weren't really sure how you felt about Jake. He was cute, and sweet, and you definitely wanted to get to know him better. And there was a part of you that desperately wanted to impress him.

Maybe today could be an opportunity for you.

You checked your reflection in the car window before you got out of your mom's car. Muttering a "bye," you made your way toward where you told Jake to meet you.

It was a sunny day. You chose to wear something breathable, a pretty pink sundress with a cardigan. You didn't dress like this on most days. You liked to opt for dark colors, but today you wanted to be... cute.

Pretty for Jake.

You spotted Jake pretty easily. Not because he had anything that made him physically easy to identify, not at all. It was more like... you simply could just spot him. It was like you had a newfound Jake-radar.

"Hi," you said with a smile. And for some reason, it seemed like Jake was startled, with his eyes widening as he caught sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Jake stared at you for a few moments, and you swore you saw the way his eyes looked you up and down. His lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. You didn't wear light colors normally, was it obvious that this dress was not something that you usually wear? Did you look strange? Maybe you should've worn your typical black clothing, and—

"N-No," Jake stammered, his eyes still looking you up and down. Truth be told, he had to bite back a "damn." Because yes, damn, you looked hot. "You look— You look nice today."

Your cheeks prickled with warmth. "Oh. Thank you."

"You don't..." Jake continued, as if he was on autopilot. You were beginning to feel really shy when you realized that he was really staring at your chest area. "You don't wear pink often, do you?"

You averted your gaze. "You're right, I don't." How embarrassing! So he notices the things you wear... and he probably 100% knows that you don't wear pink at all. "Does it look weird, or—"

"No!" Jake blurted, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, his ears a warm shade of pink. "Not at all. I really, uh, meant it when I said— When I said you looked nice."

You nodded slowly. Was it normal to feel so warm? Maybe you should check the weather again?

"Really nice," Jake echoed himself. If you weren't busy feeling shy yourself, you would have noticed Jake checking you out for the 50th time already.

You murmured a brief "thanks," before you quickly changed the subject.

"Shall we go?"

It was unusual to feel awkward or shy around Jake, and vice versa. You knew for sure that Jake was a special person, but it never affected you. For Jake, he was determined to be calm and nonchalant when it came to you. And plus, your friendship was always casual anyway.

Which was why all of your shyness dissipated pretty quickly.

You took Jake along to all the spots at the pier's mall area.

"What are you looking for?" Jake asked as he trailed after you. Jake will never understand women. You've been to 4 stores already, and all you've done is touch things and say, 'Oh this is cute.' And then you'd leave.

You shrugged. "Cute things for vacation."

Jake looked around, through the store mirrors as you two traversed the mall area. "Any preferences?"

You shrugged again. "I like dark colors, but I don't mind brighter colors for vacation, yaknow?"

Jake hummed.

The two of you walked around for a little longer until you stopped in front of a store.

"What's this?" Jake asked.

You grinned. "A swimsuit store."

Listen, Jake wouldn't consider himself an easily-excitable guy. He wasn't pervy, either. Especially toward you! He was nonchalant!

But as he entered the girly swimsuit store, he couldn't help but redden at the thought of you in some of these swimsuits. Some of them were provocative and cheeky, making Jake's stomach do flips as his mind crept into places that made it hard for him to make eye contact with you. Other ones were cute and frilly, arguably making Jake's heart pound even faster as he imagined you in them.

"Hey, what do you think about this one?" you asked Jake as you took one of the suits off the rack.

On the inside, Jake was already drooling at the thought. But on the outside he simply nodded, giving a playful smile and a thumbs up. And really, he thought that if he could maintain that attitude for the rest of the time in this swimsuit store, he'd be fine.

But he was wrong.

"Okay, I'm gonna try these on, and I'll have you give me feedback."

What.

What?

And so Jake sat in the couches in front of the changing rooms, simply awaiting his death.

He's not weird, he swears. He doesn't want to be creepy or gross toward you.

But how could he not sweat and basically hyperventilate in these changing rooms when the hottest girl that he's ever seen (you) is about to ask him for his opinion on swimsuits?

Jake was certain that no matter what, you would look hot.

And he was proven correct when you slipped out of the changing rooms.

"Okay, first one," you said, in a voice that was a little too relaxed. You went on your tiptoes, doing a few turns here and there so that Jake could see the full extent of the suit on you. "What do you think?"

And oh.

Good lord.

Jake was really trying his best not to make you uncomfortable.

But there was absolutely no way that he could just sit there and not react. His jaw quite literally dropped the moment he saw you.

The way the suit hugged your body, the way the colors illuminated your skin, the way you were 100% feeling yourself in it— All of it was making Jake 2 seconds away from crashing out.

You must have been a goddess. Or maybe Jake saved a country in his past life.

"It looks— You look— I— You—" he stumbled over his words. There were no words to describe how you looked. You looked downright beautiful. Like, if Jake died now he wouldn't mind. And when you giggled at his reaction, he took a deep breath. Don't be a weirdo! he told himself.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, finally catching himself. His eyes flickered back up to your pretty, pretty face. "You look really beautiful in this one."

"Thank you," you smiled at him. You did another twirl, something that you definitely knew drove him crazy. And if you hadn't noticed him checking you out, Jake was certain that you definitely knew now.

And maybe Jake didn't know enough about women. Because he really believed that that one swimsuit was the only one that you were trying on.

And he was so wrong.

Because there were at least 3 more that you wanted to show him!

Oh, he wasn't going to survive this.

Well, Jake did survive.

After insisting on carrying your shopping bag full of your new swimsuits (Jake didn't dare peek inside because he thought he'd combust), you decided to do some more exploring.

You got some food to munch on, and went to all types of stores. And you took many pictures, too! Pictures together, of you trying on hats and sunglasses. Candid pictures of each other, many of which where you look pretty without even trying and Jake's mind is blown.

More exploring, walking, sitting down, walking, and then sitting for 30 minutes because both of your feet hurt. A lot of laughing, a lot of dumb conversations, and even more laughing.

And before you knew it, it was getting dark out. Suddenly, the sound of the waves crashing filled the air, the cool beach wind blowing against your cheeks. 

"Let's go walk along the shore!"

And so you did.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue, and yet, the sun still shone so brightly as it submerged into the horizon. The water gently rocked against the shoreline, while the scent of sea salt and seaweed filled your senses.

It was a cool evening, and you tugged on the sleeves of your cardigan to warm your cold hands.

By now, the beach was quiet. Many people had already left, as it was slowly becoming nighttime.

In quiet moments like this, you couldn't help but fully conceptualize Jake as a person.

He was a handsome boy your age. He was kind, sweet, responsible, silly, everything great in a person. And he had a similar music taste to you, too. And here he was, walking alongside you as the sun set.

Your eyes fluttered over to him. His eyes were trained on the sand below his feet, appreciating the way the wet granules covered his skin.

He was a straightforward person. Things went from A to B with him easily. No games, nothing to hide. And yet, you felt like there was so much to discover about him. There was an entire world undiscovered in his head. And you wanted to be a part of it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked suddenly, interrupting the calm silence.

"You."

.

.

.

You?

You could feel your heart picking up speed, but you kept your composure. Meanwhile, you swore your skin was prickling with an uncharacteristic warmth.

"I-I mean—" Jake seemed to snap out of his daze. "I— I was just thinking about you, and work, and summer, and—"

You blinked, but your lips spread into a tight smile. You didn't know why you felt disappointed.

You sucked in a breath. "The water's really nice tonight."

"Mhm," Jake agreed. He wasn't blind. He could see the way your face fell ever so slightly. He could see when you felt flustered or shy because of him.

But what if he was misinterpreting things? What if his eyes were playing tricks on him?

But then you'd look up at him with those shiny eyes, almost like you were begging him to give you his heart.

Just go for it.

His eyes dropped to your hands, which were still tugging on your sleeves to keep warm.

Jake clicked his tongue. Boldly, he grabbed your hands, clasping them in yours.

"Hey!" you cried.

"Geez, your hands are so cold," he murmured, before locking his fingers with one of your hands. As if nothing happened, Jake just continued walking along the shore, this time with your hand in his.

You stared at your interlocked fingers for a few moments, before you swallowed all of your shyness and continued trailing with him.

The two of you returned to walking in silence, nothing but the sound of the water and your breaths filling the air.

Jake wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you, because he really. He always was. And just as he was about to fall back into thought, your hand pulled away from his.

With curious eyes, Jake watched as you silently pulled out a tiny plastic case from your purse.

Your earbuds.

You plugged them into your phone, before jamming one of the buds into your own ear. You looked at Jake expectantly, and he took the second earbud graciously.

You bit back a laugh as you turned on your music.

The second you pressed 'play,' a hardy bass and an unforgettable drumline played into your ears.

"Are you serious?" Jake immediately snapped his head at you. "Fleetwood Mac?!"

You laughed, throwing your head back. "I wasn't about to let you ruin the beach vibe and play Bon Jovi."

"I don't only listen to Bon Jovi—!"

And just as you and Jake were enjoying music, the beach, and most importantly, each other, Jake's phone rang. And of course, his ringtone was a Bon Jovi song.

You gave him a look as his lips spread into a goofy smile.

Not daring to tear out the earbud, he picked up his phone and listened with his other ear.

And even though it was nearly nighttime by now, you could still see how Jake's face morphed.

When he hung up, his face dropped.

"They need me to take someone's shift."

Oh.

This was really, very, genuinely, seriously annoying.

Because unfortunately, the truth was that if they needed Jake to work, then they probably needed you to work too.

Because they always needed you and Jake to work.

And so, here your (not-so official) date was ending.

Apparently, it was extremely urgent, and they insisted on paying Jake extra if he came. Not to worry, because he texted your manager to make sure that you'd get extra pay if you came along, too.

The moment that you stepped into the parlor, you could feel all the joy leaving your body. You swore that Layla’s Ice Cream Parlor had evil spirits in there, designed specifically to simply fill your body with dread.

You put on one of the spare work uniforms that the parlor had in the back. It was a little big, and a little itchy, but whatever.

When Jake got the phone call and explained to you the situation, you were fully expecting a packed parlor, with a line that went out the door and your incompetent coworkers couldn't handle it, or something. But now that you were in the parlor, you realized that that was just a load of bullshit.

"Empty," Jake muttered behind you. "There is absolutely no one here."

You hummed in agreement, equally deadpan.

Those lazy bums.

They just didn't want to work the closing shift. They just didn't want to do the cleaning or locking up. They just wanted you to take their shifts so that they could go home and relax.

And so here you two were, just lazing around in the breakroom, just trying to pass the time. You let your phone play some random playlist.

"I'm sorry," Jake said, with his cheek pressed against the breakroom table. "We were hanging out and I decided to take us to work."

"Nah, you're justified," you said lazily. "They're promising us extra pay, so it's fine."

The room went silent again, but you could tell Jake was thinking something. And indeed, he was.

Jake felt horrible! Although you did agree to come to work with him, he still felt back. Did he just fumble your first (unofficial) date? God, he's so stupid! Now you two were stuck in the worst place on earth.

He stared at your bored expression.

He couldn't let you stay bored.

Without a word, he got up from his seat in the breakroom and disappeared out to the front. You could hear some cluttering and buzzing.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled before he came back to where you were in the breakroom. And you complied.

"What are you doing, Jake?" you asked, but you couldn't help but smile. He was definitely up to some antics.

"Just close your eyes," he instructed you, before sitting down with you at the breakroom table again.

Jake clasped his hands together. "I have three cups of ice cream here. You will close your eyes and guess which one is which."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Jake laughed. "We can't get bored in here."

You chuckled. "Okay, fine."

Jake watched you intently as he spoon-fed you the first spoonful of ice cream.

The first flavor was strawberry, your personal favorite.

Maybe it was getting late, or maybe Jake was just too obsessed with you, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way your pretty lips opened up for the ice cream. He was simply so mesmerized by the way you licked your lips, relishing in the way the sweet strawberry ice cream melted on your tastebuds.

"This is so obvious," you nudged him, kicking him from under the table. "At least make it hard for me!"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Just guess!"

You huffed, mumbling something about him being stupid under your breath. "Strawberry. Duh."

"Woo hoo!" Jake cheered for you. "It was strawberry!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

The second flavor was ube. Which you guessed almost immediately.

"Next flavor, please," you giggled. "This game is too easy,"

But Jake wasn't listening to you in the slightest.

Just why did you have to start licking the spoon clean? The way your glossy lips wrapped around the spoon, your tongue wrapping around the smooth plastic, and now he was feeling all types of things, and—

"Seriously, make it harder for me!"

Jake gulped.

The last flavor he had was salted caramel. His own personal favorite.

He'd already taken a few bites out of it.

He glanced at your lips, then down at the salted caramel ice cream.

Even under the corporate light of the break room, you still glowed so prettily. And you must have been doing it on purpose, the way you were keeping the spoon in your mouth, with your lips wrapped around it so prettily.

Jake's eyes flickered back to your lips once more, then to the salted caramel ice cream.

His heart was already pounding in his chest. All the blood was rushing to his head and Jake thought that he'd faint.

Your lips were just so damn pretty.

It seemed like something was possessing Jake's body. While his mind was frozen on your lips, his body was moving on its own.

He reached out for you first, his large hand taking solace on your shoulder.

And in one, fluid motion, Jake leaned in, and closed the gap between his lips and yours.

Your lips were soft and sweet, like clouds. Jake's eyes had unconsciously fallen shut, and the moment that he realized that he was kissing you, they shot open. However, just as he was about to pull away, because oh my god he was kissing you, and he didn't even ask!, Jake felt your hand slither up around his neck.

You pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss.

Jake felt dizzy. It was the way your tongue dipped into his mouth when he let out a little gasp. Or maybe it was the way your fingers ran through his hair, almost as if you were desperate to keep his lips on yours. Your everything— your hands, your lips, your scent— they were all driving him insane.

Jake didn't want it to end, and if it weren't for his need for air, he wouldn't have pulled away. Ever.

The two of you sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. Jake's cheeks were red, his pupils blown out with desire. His eyes fell down to your lips.

"Salted caramel," you breathed, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. You squeezed his shoulders. "You taste like salted caramel— kiss me if that's the answer—"

And you didn't need to ask him twice, because Jake was already crashing his lips against yours.

There was something so addictive about your lips. The way you moaned against his lips, the way you clung onto him like you needed him, it was all driving him crazy.

Jake needed more, he needed you.

In his head, it was all just you, you, you.

"I want you so bad," Jake mumbled against your lips. "Please."

He could feel you giggle, but he simply just slides his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved against his in ways that were too perfect to be real. Jake felt like he was in heaven. You were heaven. You were angelic, you were godly, you were—

"Um, excuse me, are you guys still open?"

!!!

You and Jake jumped away from each other.

Shit.

It was still store hours.

"Are we going to get fired?"

Now it was actually closing hours.

You and Jake started cleaning after you were so rudely interrupted, and now it was time to close up.

And it was awkward.

Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. It felt like forever since you shared your kisses with Jake. And now, you craved his lips once more.

But what if it was just on the whim? What if Jake just did it to do it?

You just wanted him so bad. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to feel him again.

"For what?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes refusing to meet Jake's.

"Kissing coworkers."

"No!" Jake's cheeks flared up. "Of course not!"

"Then..." your brows furrowed. Your face felt hot to the touch. You felt like you were going to get a heart attack. Seriously, you felt like you were burning up, all the while you felt frozen in time and space. You slowly looked up at Jake. "Then can we... you know... keep doing it?"

.

.

.

"I— I mean, if you don't mind— and if it's not something that we could get fired for—" you stammered— "Then can we... you know— can we keep kissing?"

Jake was already on it.

“Eek, Jake, lock the doors first!”

After a few more weeks of hiding in the storage closet to makeout, and honestly straight up shirking your responsibilities to kiss in the breakroom, you and Jake did the unthinkable.

"We resign!"

Your manager looked at you incredulously. "W-What?"

You and Jake smiled. "We quit."

You've never felt more free. With your boyfriend at your side, it seemed like the summer was endless.

BONUS

"Did I ever tell you that I liked you?" you asked Jake, in his car just moments after you quit your job.

"I don't think you did, babe," Jake laughed.

"Oh."

You should probably put that on your to-do list.

You glanced at your boyfriend. How his lips looked so kissable.

Sigh. You'll tell him what you like later. It's time to kiss!

note: please reblog n comment if you enjoyed! xoxo vanya >_<

[quarterlifekitty]

Can we pretty please have König with the secret baby trope?

/)/)

( . .)

( づ♡

I offer a little bunny as a bribe [I really hope it works and doesn’t end up misshapen lol]

Bunny looks good to me…. I accept

So in this, I imagine that you were something of a friends with benefits to him. While it wasn’t a sugaring situation, he did insist upon treating you to a nice dinner whenever you met up. When he’d come home on leave, he’d reach out, you’d meet up and fuck, and eventually he’d ship back out and the cycle repeated.

Truthfully, he’d been planning on trying to make things less casual for a long time. He’s not the kind of person who can fuck someone repeatedly and not fall in love, as much as he tried to be when this began. He decided that on his next leave, he would tell you.

He didn’t expect his next leave to be as far away as it turned out to be. While he is within his rights as a mercenary to decline extending his time on the job, he often doesn’t. He’s a workaholic and one of the small number of people at KorTac with no family to speak of, so he often takes on the burden staying on longer when needed. The time gets away from him. He’s gone longer than a year.

He comes back, anxious about where he stands with you. What you had hadn’t exactly been exclusive, and it’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t have been snapped up in that time away. To him, there can be no shortage of other men in your life that are crazy about you.

He contacts you. You tell him that you’re not really in a position to meet up with him, and you don’t really know if you ever will be again, honestly. His hands are sweating and his fingers fuck up on the keyboard all the time, so he just decides to call. Ask you what he’s done, if there’s someone else, if you know that he’s madly in love—

Not thirty seconds into the phone call, just barely past the niceties and pleasant greetings, when all of those questions are on the tip of his tongue— he hears crying. A baby crying. You tell him hurriedly that you’ll have to call him back. He decides he just can’t wait that long. He goes to your place.

You answer the door with a baby in a sling around you, tucked up to your chest, markedly more calm than it had been over the phone. Red hair. Your expression is a little tightened, like you hadn’t really wanted to see him at the door.

“As you can see, I’m not really able to attend a dick appointment right now.”

Fuck, is that what it was? You thought he just wanted sex?

A Quick look at your apartment tells him there isn’t anyone else. No men’s shoes by the door. Photos on the wall are just you and your friends— no partner in sight. It’s also kind of a mess. If there was a man in your life, he deserved to have his head beat in for leaving you to deal with all of this alone all day.

Then comes the quick mental math.

“That’s not what I want. Let me come in, schatz. Let me talk to you.”

It breaks his heart to see how reticent you are to let him in. It’s part and parcel with how tired you look.

“Look, if you’re wondering— yes, he’s yours, biologically.” Well, that clarification at the end stings a little. “But it was my choice to keep him, so I don’t expect anything from you. If this feels like an obligation to you, I’d prefer if we just cut things off here.”

The words that follow spill from his mouth uncontrollably.

“I don’t just want him— I want you. I want the both of you. I want it to be us,” he nearly babbles, hoping what he says is even halfway coherent.

“You’re all I think of when I’m away. I cannot lie and say I’d imagined the… the order of events would be this way. But I’d thought of it— with you. Please let me in, and… and let me meet him properly, ja?”

There are tears in his eyes when his son holding his finger for the first time, not ten minutes later.

[comicaurora]

You mentioned in a previous ask about Arcane that wanting to do something better can be a great motivator, but recently I've seen a lot of discussion about fanworks created out of "spite" like Spiderman Lotus or that Transformers fan film. Do you think these come from different feelings, leading to their end result, or that the motivation just needs to be handled carefully?

Ah, I see the confusion. When you have ideas for what a story could do, and then the story goes in a different direction and bypasses what you thought it would do, that can be an incredibly useful motivator for using that unused inspiration for telling your own story. Taking someone else's completed artwork and saying "move over, idiot, I'll show you how it's done" is a recipe for hubristic self-immolation.

Setting out to "fix" someone's work has to be approached very carefully. Artistic criticism is a complicated skill, but it isn't treated that way. Especially in the age of the internet, several wildly different things have been conflated under "criticism", and I think that's why spite-motivated "fixes" almost always end up tripping on their shoelaces and falling flat.

Art critique - "fixing" someone's work - is about figuring out how to make the art the most effective version of itself. Determine what it's going for, and make suggestions for how the artist could improve the execution of that goal. Clarify a confusing moment, change the score a little to be more emotionally impactful, break up the pacing with moments to breathe, tighten up the pacing to maintain the frantic vibes.

However, the broad perception of what art critique is has been bundled together with several other forms of criticism, including snarky reviews (a judgment of quality rendered after a work is completed and aimed at prospective audiences so they don't end up wasting their money), general knee-jerk mockery (it is easy and fun to score points off of other people's sincerity via a little casual bullying), critical analysis (taking apart how a story works to learn from it, a useful approach for other artists trying to improve their own skills) and, of course, fanfiction.

Ahh, fanfiction! If you don't like a story, you can just take the characters, setting, premise, worlbuilding, and the general shape of the plot - ignoring the fact that at this point you've borrowed about 80% of the work that went into building the original story already - and then you can just make the characters do what you wanted instead. If you think Spider-Man would be better if everyone was miserable and grieving a dead buddy the whole time, you can do that! Two hours of misery for everyone!

This approach is ostensibly trying to accomplish what art critique does - to make a better version of the story. But in practice, it's almost never interested in interrogating what the story was actually going for. In fact, it's actively scornful of what the story was going for. It doesn't take it apart to see what did work, it just says "I didn't like that and I could do better" and produces something trying not to be like the original it disliked.

I kind of think of it like this. If you ate a meal and you were like "there's not enough salt in this," you would not produce a better meal by focusing exclusively on loading it down with all the salt you could find, even if you were starting with all the same ingredients. Do you understand how they were put together to begin with? How the meat was brined, how the vegetables were cooked, what seasonings went where? Do you think all it needed to make it work was salt?

So you get fanworks that do indeed focus on the part that the fanartist thought was missing. You get Spider-Man Is A Sad Jerk For Two Hours. It accomplished what the fanartist wanted, but it fails in its true goal of being Like The Original But Better, because it never actually made the effort to understand what made the original tick. Why do people like Spider-Man in his other movies? Well, there's lots of reasons that work for different audiences - he's funny, he's good-hearted, he's graceful and well-choreographed, his fight scenes are fluid and exciting, his dynamic with the people of New York is lively and comedic, he's hapless and hurting but he always tries his best, he gets knocked down but he always gets back up-- there are many reasons to like these stories. But if all you can focus on is what you wanted them to add, you'll have a lot of trouble parsing out what functional elements you'll need to carry over into your fanfiction to not lose the core of what made it actually mostly work.

If all you focus on is accentuating the bits you wanted them to do without recognizing the parts that were working fine, you end up with a heaping plate of salt.

✨ as the ask states, this post is very specifically about spite-motivated "I can do it better than the writers" fanworks and not fanfiction in general ✨

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖏𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖊

ᴛᴡ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they find out about your eating disorder

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ chuuya , dazai , akutagawa

The red-haired had always admired your strength. Carrying yourself like a quiet fire that seemed impervious to the storms of life, unyielding under the weight of the underworld’s chaos. You were his protégé, the one he poured himself into, the one who embodied everything he once longed to be but couldn’t. His pride. His light. The proof that even in the darkest corners of the world, something radiant could exist. But even the brightest flames can flicker, and it was in the faint tremors of your hands, the tight smiles, and the hollow laugh that he began to notice cracks in the armor you wore so well.

When you were alone, the emptiness gnawed at you. It was a beast you couldn’t tame, one that whispered lies into your ear about control, about worth, about the ugly truths buried in your reflection. Those nights, after the world fell silent and your facade could finally shatter, you found yourself in the kitchen, hands trembling as you pulled open cabinets, rifling through anything you could find. Bread, chips, sweets, anything to fill the void, anything to quiet the roaring need that felt like a punishment and a salvation all at once. You ate until you couldn’t breathe, until your stomach screamed in protest, until shame curdled in your veins like poison. Then came the guilt—a black wave that crashed over you, suffocating, pulling you under. And so, you purged, desperate to rid yourself of the weight, of the regret, of the proof of your failure. It was a ritual of suffering, one you endured in silence, hiding it from the world because no one could ever understand.

Therefore, food had always been the battlefield. Chuuya had no words for how your face tightened whenever a meal was placed in front of you, how your laugh sounded strained when he joked about how little you ate. At first, he thought it was preference, something trivial. But then came the patterns. The way you’d push food around your plate, the careful excuses that masked avoidance, the too-frequent trips to the bathroom after meals. He dismissed it, once, twice, too many times, unwilling to shatter the image he had of you—unbreakable, invincible, beyond fragility.

Until one day, he couldn’t.

Upon a quiet night, after a grueling mission, the two of you were eating together. He had cooked, something rare, almost celebratory. He wanted to see you smile, to hear your laugh ring genuine, unguarded. But the moment was stolen by the slight twitch in your brow, the way you forced yourself through each bite like it was a penance. And then you were gone, chair scraping against the floor as you muttered some excuse about needing the bathroom.

The mafia executive wasn’t sure why he followed. Perhaps it was the gnawing pit in his stomach, the accumulation of every unease he’d ever felt about you but hadn’t wanted to name. Or perhaps it was the way you hadn’t looked at him when you stood, the way your eyes seemed fixed on something far, far away. Whatever it was, it pulled him from his seat, silent, careful, until he stood outside the bathroom door.

A choked sob, raw and jagged, as if your chest was being ripped apart—the sound hit him. Then came the gagging, the frantic, broken attempts to purge what little you’d eaten. His heart clenched at the sound, a violent, suffocating force that left him frozen for a moment too long. When the retching stopped, there was silence, and then another sound—one that would haunt him far longer than any gunfire or scream. You were crying, but it wasn’t the kind of crying he could soothe. It was feral, unrestrained, the sound of someone drowning in their own skin.

He pushed the door open, and the sight gutted him.

You were on the floor, knees pressed to your chest, fists clenched so tightly your knuckles were white. Tears streaked your face, mixing with the remnants of your futile attempts to purge. Your shoulders shook violently, your breaths ragged and shallow, as if the weight of existence itself was pressing down on you. too lost in whatever storm was tearing you apart from the inside, you didn’t even notice him at first.

As he called your name, his voice broke, soft but weighted, you flinched as though struck. Your head snapped up, eyes wide and wild, filled with a mixture of shame, fear, and something he couldn’t name.

“Don’t—don’t look at me,” you choked out, your voice shattered, hands scrambling to shield yourself from his gaze as though his presence alone was enough to destroy you.

But he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. How could he, when the person he cherished most in the world was falling apart in front of him? When the strength he admired so fiercely had been a mask for a torment so profound it left you hollow? His hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling—not with anger, but with helplessness. Chuuya Nakahara, the Port Mafia’s finest, a man who had survived horrors most couldn’t fathom, didn’t know how to fix this.

And yet, he moved. Slow, deliberate, he crossed the space between you and knelt down, ignoring the mess, ignoring everything but you. He didn’t speak. What words could possibly touch the depth of what he felt? What comfort could ease the anguish that had been festering in your soul long before he’d ever noticed? Instead, he reached out, his gloved hand trembling as it brushed against yours.

Although you tried to pull away, he held on, firm but gentle, grounding. Your protests were weak, broken, crumbling under the weight of his quiet persistence. Eventually, you stopped fighting, your hand going limp in his as the sobs wracked your body anew. He pulled you into his arms then, holding you like you might shatter, like the world itself would crumble if he let go.

Heavy and suffocating a silence followed. Though in it, there was an unspoken promise. A vow etched not in words but in the way he held you, in the way his gloved fingers gently stroked your hair, in the way his own shoulders shook with the weight of what he’d just realized. You weren’t invincible. You weren’t unbreakable. But you didn’t have to be. Not with him.

Truthfully, chuuya didn’t know what came next. He didn’t know how to help you, how to fix the cracks in your foundation. But he did know one thing: he would never let you face this alone again. You were his pride, his light, the fire he’d chased his entire life. And no matter how fragile that flame might be, he would protect it with everything he had—even from yourself.

,

Dazai had always known how fragile you were, even when you didn’t realize it yourself. It wasn’t just your body, though the sharp lines of your frame had always seemed on the verge of disappearing, as if you weren’t fully of this world. No, it was something deeper—a fragility that resided in the quiet spaces between your laughter, in the way your eyes lingered on the edges of mirrors as though you feared what might look back at you. He had been drawn to it, at first. That strange contradiction of strength and delicacy, the way you carried yourself like a wisp of smoke in a room full of storms.

But even smoke can suffocate.

It began so subtly that Dazai almost missed it. The way you picked at your food with a practiced indifference, your careful avoidance of meals disguised as nonchalance. He watched you fold excuses into your routines like origami, delicate and precise—“I already ate,” “I’m not hungry,” “I’ll grab something later.” Lies so thin they barely held their shape, but he let them pass because he thought he understood you. You were his quiet escape from the chaos, a tether to the normality he so desperately sought. But now, as the days turned into weeks, and your sharp edges grew sharper still, he realized your fragility wasn’t simply a part of you—it was consuming you.

The obsession, your obsession, was was unsettled him the most. The way you clung to control, as if it were the only thing keeping you alive. He saw it in the numbers you counted in your head, the mental calculations that flickered behind your eyes whenever food was near. You moved constantly, restless and relentless, as though standing still would unravel you. And yet, despite your need to escape the shape of your own body, he saw how you lingered in front of mirrors, tracing the lines of your collarbones and ribs with trembling fingers. You hated what you saw, yet in that hatred, you found power. A twisted kind of triumph.

Dazai, for all his sharpness, didn’t know how to confront it. How could he, when you had built your cage so carefully, so intricately, that he feared any wrong move might trap you further? He watched in silence, a ghost hovering at the edges of your pain, his own heart growing heavier with every meal you skipped, every lie you told, every step that carried you further away from him. Naturally, you didn’t know, couldn’t know, how much he had come to love you—not in fragments, not as something fleeting, but entirely. Utterly. You thought you were a passing indulgence, something temporary to fill the void in his life, but you were so much more than that.

Fighting demons, he waited until the night he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

You’d spent the day evading food with a grace that was almost artful, your avoidance so practiced it might have been rehearsed. By the time evening came, you were a shadow of yourself, moving through the room like a ghost. Dazai sat at the edge of your shared space, watching as you ran your hands over your arms, up and down, like you were trying to prove to yourself that you were still there. Your fingers brushed against the sharp jut of your bones, and for the briefest moment, your expression flickered—triumph, control, and then disgust, so fleeting he might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, his voice soft but resolute.

Hands lingering in the air before it dropped to your side, you froze “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmured, the lie falling from your lips like ash.

He stood then, crossing the room in slow, measured steps. There was no anger in him, only a sorrow so deep it felt like drowning. “You do,” he said simply. “You’ve known all along. You’ve been counting every bite, every step, every ounce of control, but you can’t see what it’s doing to you.”

While your chest tightened your eyes darted away from his, searching for an escape. “I’m fine,” you whispered, but the words rang hollow, as brittle as your frame.

“No, you’re not.” His hand reached out, but he stopped just short of touching you, as though afraid you might break beneath the weight of his concern. “You think this is control, don’t you? That if you can keep shrinking, you’ll finally be enough. But you’re already disappearing. You’re fading, and I…” Being the first sign of the turmoil raging beneath his calm facade, his voice cracked, “I can’t lose you to this.”

Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden and unstoppable, spilling over as the dam finally broke. “I don’t know how to stop,” you confessed, your voice trembling with the weight of your admission. “I don’t know how to be enough for you, for anyone, for myself.”

Closing the distance between you then, his arms reached around your trembling frame. You felt impossibly small against him, as though you might dissolve entirely if he held you too tightly. “You’ve always been enough,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low, raw. “I didn’t fall in love with you because of how you look, or because of the shape of your body. I love you because you make me want to live. Don’t you see? You’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel alive, and I can’t lose that—not to this, not to anything.”

Then you collapsed against him, your sobs muffled against his chest as his words sank into the hollow spaces inside you. For the first time, the control you clung to felt less like power and more like a chain, one you weren’t sure you could break alone. But in Dazai’s arms, in the steadiness of his voice, there was a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

And for a moment, in the fragile quiet of that night, you allowed yourself to believe it.

,

When you came back from the hospital, Akutagawa thought you were better. Not whole—he knew better than to believe anyone could walk out of that kind of war unscathed—but better. You were quieter, more restrained than before, but he chalked it up to the aftershocks of what you’d endured. He wasn’t one for excessive concern or sentimentality, so he gave you space, trusting that your resilience would guide you forward.

Working alongside him, just as you always had, you carried out the ruthless tasks of the Mafia with precision and poise. But there was something in your movements that had changed—something more deliberate, almost rigid, as though you were holding yourself together through sheer will alone. At first, he dismissed it as adjustment. You’d been through a storm, after all, and even the strongest took time to rebuild.

What he didn’t see was how the storm had followed you.

In the dead hours of the night, when you were alone in your quarters, the thoughts crept back in—quiet at first, like whispers. You’re too much. You’ll fall apart if you let go. Control is the only way. They slithered into your mind, wrapping themselves around the fragile progress you’d made, and you welcomed them like old friends. You told yourself you’d stop before it went too far, that it was just temporary, just a way to feel steady again. But control was a ravenous thing, never satisfied with half-measures.

Like an old, repeating pattern, you began skipping meals—not all at once, but enough to convince yourself it wasn’t dangerous. A missed breakfast here, a lighter dinner there. You avoided eating in front of Akutagawa whenever possible, claiming you weren’t hungry or were too busy. When you couldn’t avoid it, you picked at your food, calculating every bite, every calorie, with a precision that bordered on obsession.

Of course, you thought you were hiding it well. Learning to wear looser clothing to disguise the weight you were losing, staying late in the training rooms, pushing your body until exhaustion numbed the gnawing hunger, you told yourself this was strength, that the growing sharpness of your cheekbones and the hollows beneath your collarbone were proof of your control. But the truth was, you were spiraling, and you were too afraid to stop.

Akutagawa, on the other hand, didn’t notice at first. He was consumed with his own duties, his own battles, and you were careful to keep your mask intact around him. But as the weeks passed, he began to see the cracks. The way your energy faltered during missions, the unsteady tremor in your hands when you thought no one was watching. He noticed how your voice grew quieter, how your laughter—rare as it was—disappeared altogether. And then there was the weight.

Now you looked fragile, as though a strong wind might shatter you. He told himself it was stress, that you were still recovering, that if it were serious, you would tell him. You had promised him once, after all, that you wouldn’t keep him in the dark again.

But you didn’t tell him.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, he caught you lingering in the shadows of the Mafia’s base. You were leaning against the wall, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as though trying to hold yourself together. He approached silently, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the gauntness of your face, the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“You haven’t been eating,” he said bluntly, his voice low and steady.

Stiffening, you didn’t turn to face him. “I’m fine,” you replied, your tone carefully controlled.

“No, you’re not.”

Heavy and unrelenting, his words hung in the air. Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, and for a moment, he saw the truth in your eyes—the fear, the shame, the desperation you’d been trying so hard to hide. But just as quickly, you looked away, your mask snapping back into place.

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your voice sharper this time. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

He stepped closer, his presence as unyielding as his gaze. “This isn’t about need,” he said. “It’s about what I see. And what I see is you killing yourself.”

As your hands clenched at your sides, your nails were digging into your palms. “You don’t understand,” you said, your voice breaking despite your efforts to keep it steady.

“Then make me understand.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence, heavy and suffocating. And then, like a dam breaking, the words spilled out of you.

“I thought I could handle it,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I thought I was past it, that I could stop whenever I wanted. But it’s always there, Akutagawa. The need to control, the fear of letting go. It’s… it’s like drowning, but I’m the one holding myself underwater.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, slowly, he reached out, his gloved hand resting gently on your shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly. “You never have to be.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “But what if I can’t stop? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” he said firmly. “And even if it takes everything I have, I’ll make sure you remember that.”

There was no grand gesture, no dramatic declaration. Just the quiet promise of someone who refused to let you fall. And for the first time in weeks, the walls you had built around yourself began to crack.

a/n: i‘d like to leave a few words actually, i got this request around midnight but i wrote it on sitting and got pretty emotional (yikes) i never wrote something like this so it might come off as stiff. i had anorexia myself, and am now still dealing with bulimia. help. i spent all my teenage years counting calories. i still do , sometimes. this disorder leaves you with nothing but despair. i don’t mean to romanticise it so i tried making it realistic — though it probably sucks. well whatever. if anyone is struggling with this, please get help—even if it’s just online, reaching out won’t make it disappear but easier. love you all so much!

[avelera]

I'm wondering what you think about how much Viktor knew about his disease and his limited life expectancy before that scene in the hospital?

Because Viktor draws that conclusion before Jayce even says anything. Jayce is clearly very upset about whatever the doctor says, but he never spells out that it's terminal, and Viktor immediately concludes that, so that might make it seem like he already suspected beforehand.

On one hand, he is obviously hiding his symptoms from Jayce, and at this point he might either be in denial, or already suspecting it. I do get the sense his disease is common in the undercity and always fatal, the documents Caitlyn goes through about the grey show pictures of lungs which imply a lung disease the grey causes, which I think is the same disease Viktor has. It wouldn't be a leap for him to conclude that coughing up blood means he has this disease and will probably die.

On the other hand, he does get increasingly desperate to save his own life after he gets the diagnosis, and even has that talk with Heimerdinger about his legacy, which does kind of imply that the truth hadn't truly settled in before then or it was really the first time he found out. Though in regards to the hexcore, he really stumbled into its potential healing properties by accident and it makes sense he'd fall into that obsession when he first gets a sliver of hope

I do agree if Viktor suspected, he wouldn't tell Jayce. He's already quite ashamed of all his medical issues, and Jayce's comment about his disappearing is probably about that.

Anyway, curious what your thoughts are

Oh, I have a VERY specific headcanon that's going to make an appearance the Distinguished Innovators sequel that I'm actively working on but I'm happy to spell it out here too.

Ok, so, I don't think it's possible for Viktor to have fully hidden his degenerative illness from Jayce. Jayce is too loving and attentive and the illness progression over the course of the time skip between 1.03 and 1.04 is too dire for even the most oblivious person to miss.

And no, I don't buy the "cooking a frog" excuse that Jayce would miss it because the progression is gradual. It's not gradual. It's extreme. Viktor goes from a cane he can occasionally set aside to a crutch, leg brace, back brace, dark circles under his eyes, sunken skin, a hunched posture and regular coughing fits that sometimes spit up blood. I mean look at this:

You simply cannot tell me that Jayce hasn't been aware of this progression.

Not to mention, that when Viktor coughs up blood at the Hexgates, he does not hide the blood from Jayce and Jayce does not react to the blood! That means Jayce has known that Viktor's coughing fits regularly bring up blood at this point.

But what did Jayce believe up to this point? I want to explore that and offer my own rather exhaustive headcanon:

So, there is simply no way in my mind that Jayce could be kept in the dark about the fact that Viktor has his leg and another health issue bearing down on him and sapping his strength.

However, I do believe that Viktor knows that he has a degenerative illness that will likely end his life within the next few years and that he has lied to or obfuscated from Jayce just how dire his prognosis is.

I think Jayce expected Viktor to have decades left while Viktor hoped to have a few more good years left, and both were shocked and pained to learn it might be months. However, Jayce in particular seems completely blindsided, which is why I suspect Viktor allowed him to continue to believe he had decades to live when Viktor knew he did not.

I think Viktor would have rather died on that floor than let Jayce know he's dying.

I also think both Viktor and Jayce held out hope that Hextech would lead to a miracle cure for Viktor, but both knew it would take years to achieve. After all, most of their active innovations were around industry, transportation, mining, etc. It makes sense given the spell they had to work from was a weightlessness and teleportation spell Jayce saw the Mage do. Biology and healing was probably possible, and on their radar, Hextech is magic after all, but I truly believe they thought it was going to take years of innovation and a lot of leaps, not to mention luck, before they'd stumble upon runes that would let them pivot to healing. It's not a natural progression based on what they know of magic.

This is part of why I think Jayce believed Viktor still had decades left. Because I think, if Jayce knew it was only a few years, he would have tossed everything out to just work on healing Viktor with Hextech.

And this is where I'm going to make the full leap to headcanon territory. I don't think this is canonical to the text, it's just my interpretation of the text that I use for fic writing. H'ok, let's go:

I think Viktor knew specifically what fissure illness he had and he knew most people who have it do not live past 30. I think he's known most of his life. I think that's why he's so driven to achieve everything he can while young.

Hence Viktor's, "Don't ask permission," attitude. He's always known he's got about ~30 years to live and he's going to make the most of it, hence his meteoric rise, but also why he's willing to take a dramatic lateral leap to be Jayce's partner at the first sight of a potentially world-changing innovation to work on with his remaining years. He's less worried about losing what he's achieved than he is about missing out on the next great scientific leap, possibly because he knows he's only got a few years left anyway.

I think Viktor (and possibly his parents!) believed that if he moved to Piltover where the air was cleaner, he'd have longer to live. This adds to his parents' motivation to make the desperate, possibly criminal move to sneak Viktor into the Academy.

I think getting to Piltover made Viktor relatively optimistic about his prognosis. With better air, nutrition, and sunlight access, he might have a chance to beat the "Dead by 30" inevitability of his disease. And to some extent, he did! He's about 32 when he collapses in Arcane S1 but still, it's not as much time as he or anyone in his position might have hoped for. This explains his weary resignation to the fact he doesn't have much time left. He's known this is coming for a while.

I also think, and this is pure headcanon, that coughing blood signals the beginning of the end for this particular disease. That's why pre-time skip Viktor is motivated but not desperate yet. He's not coughing blood yet. He still has time. But once he starts coughing blood, post-time skip, he goes from motivated to desperate. I think coughing blood means you've only got a few months to maybe a few years left, and Viktor knows this.

I think Viktor knew his prognosis meant "Dead by 30" but he only told this vaguely to Jayce. Like "Yes, this cough is a symptom of a disease that will shorten my lifespan, but we still have time for a Hextech miracle if we work hard."

Jayce, coming from a background of relative privilege compared to the undercity, took "a shorter lifespan" to mean Viktor would live to like... 60 instead of 80. Plenty of time to find a way to pivot Hextech to healing if they crank it and push everything they have into accelerating the use, application, and innovation of Hextech as quickly as possible. The more resources they have, the more widely Hextech is adopted, the better the chance they'll have the time, assistance, resources, and frankly the power to stumble into something that will cure Viktor in the next few decades.

Viktor is more of a realistic about the progression of science. Note his, "It's a leap," about Jinx's potential to crack Hextech. Jayce believes in miracles because he was rescued by one. But I think Viktor knows intrinsically that it would take a very unlikely miracle to pivot from industry to healing uses of Hextech. He humors Jayce, and he's optimistic, but more than he wants to waste time looking for an impossible cure, he wants to leave a legacy and help others while he's alive, rather than chasing the rabbit of a healing application just for himself that they are realistically decades away from.

I think one reason Viktor didn't tell Jayce how short his prognosis ir OR how unrealistic it is for them to pivot Hextech to healing with what they have is that he didn't want Jayce to waste time on healing him with nothing to show for it when they inevitably failed. Even if they did nothing but try to apply Hextech to curing him, they probably wouldn't have time to beat his Dead by 30 prognosis (as of age ~26 when they partnered up) and Viktor wanted to contribute to problems they could actually solve in his lifetime instead of chasing a fairytale.

The Hexcore changes everything there, of course. It embodies the miraculous leap they'd need to skip over decades of incremental innovation in Hextech and it's what causes the pivot in Viktor's motivations from help the undercity to "help the undercity (but actually I just want to help myself and I'm actually such a good and selfless person I can't even admit this very human desire to live even to myself)"

Just to circle back briefly, I think learning Viktor's prognosis was a horrible shock for Jayce. Like I said, he really believed he had more time with Viktor. All his actions point to this. Yes he knew the Council was a bit of a distraction, but it was serving their overarching goal of pushing Hextech as quickly and as far as possible to cure Viktor in the next decade or so. He would never have stolen months away from working beside Viktor if he didn't think Viktor had many years more to live, even with his illness as it was.

Ok, I think that about covers it! If you do want to read the fic where I'm going to include all this, you should subscribe to this series.

[twee-lil-paws]

I tried finding anyone in the comments who added any *actual* engagement suggestions to people who don't know how to do anything but say "hi", and could not, so here's to you my socially inexperienced comrades:

Find Common Ground.

the internet has made this incredibly easy, most people readily share information about the things they like, so Say Something about it or Ask them for their opinions. Ideally you want something you share an interest in, but something your curious about that they might be an expert on also does well in a pinch.

Share Something You Think They'd Enjoy

no, not porn. That comes much much later, if at all. This does require you to have some tangential knowledge of a genre of things that your desired conversation partner is interested in, but maybe hasn't shown awareness of yet. Sometimes they do already know about it and then you're just following the previous suggestion, yippee. This can always be done passively after getting to know people too. Everyone loves being reminded that they were being thought about. Be careful not to Info Dump when sharing these new things tho. No one wants to read paragraph after paragraph from a stranger. Which brings me to the next suggestion:

Engage Each Other Equally, and Be Patient

people have other things in their lives other than talking to you. Nothing is more annoying than someone who's impatient for a reply. "Are you still there?" and other similar innocuous quandaries can quick change your recipients perception of you into that of a chore. Sometimes this means what was spoken between you was forgotten, this is normal and ok. Don't let it eat you alive. Enjoy the time you have together when it happens, and find some other shit to do when it's not happening. Try not to over burden your conversation partner with extra dialogue during these bouts either. Many get overwhelmed by their notification numbers going up and up and up and can lead to your responses going unread for a lot longer.

Be Chill, Be Kind

most socially inexperienced people I've run into have this common problem where they get so excited about talking with someone that they start to over think their interactions after actually landing a good one. This is a special tip for you. Everything in the world can become something hopeful or terrifying depending on how you choose to consider them. You can find signs of any kind of potential disaster everywhere you look IF you go looking for them, so don't. You cannot prevent every terrible thing from happening, and hyper vigilance only makes things worse. Focus your effort on enjoying the good things, and mourn the bad when they happen. Listen to how other people say they feel instead of projecting your insecurities about what you worry they feel.

If It Ain't Working, Go Somewhere Else

there are no magic words you can string together to get the target of your affections to pay attention to you if they don't want to. Learn to cut your losses if things don't work out. It's nobody's fault when this happens. A failed conversation is a Neutral occurrence, happens all the time to everyone, so let go & move on elsewhere. There are a STAGGERING number of people in this world, you will most certainly run into others whereby you may try again.

online advice: simply saying ‘hi’ and nothing else isn’t the best opener for messaging a person you don’t know

[mrsh4rdy]

be rude. husband! nanami x chubby fem! reader.

warning: NSFW (MDNI), rude, dom, dirty names, beg, creampie, sperm, breeding, eat pussy?, suck nipple, slap, fingering, spanking, one mention of y/n, think its all.

words: 2132.

Nanami loves you more than anything, there is no doubt about it. His gaze, so tender and filled with love every time he rests on you. His hands, which rest on you with a sweet possessiveness when there are people around. His lips which stretch into an irresistible smile every time your own smile lights up his face.

His way of kissing you is filled with kindness and sweetness, so much so that you melt every time. He is so protective and attentive in your intimate moments, almost like a guardian angel. But deep down, you wished that he would turn into a wild and merciless demon.

"Ken..", you get on top of him seeking his attention as he reads his book on the couch. "What babe?", he puts his book down and looks at you to understand what you want.

"I need you.", you whisper sensually in his ear and start to rub yourself against him in need. "Y/n.", he moans lightly and starts to kiss your exposed chest in your small tank top.

"Wait. I want you to be rough with me. Really. Please.", he lifts his head and looks at you surprised. "Seriously? You don’t like how I-", you immediately cut him off.

"No no! Not at all fair that I want you to be mean to me but if you don't like it I won't force you baby. I love how you fuck me never doubt it.", gives him a soft smile to reassure him. He believes you and doesn't doubt it remembering how you moan under him every time.

"I understand. Do you want me to be rough with you?", he takes your chin forcing you to look him in the eyes and his voice becomes mean, deeper than usual and almost cruel. "Yes ken-… please.", your trembling answer betrays your excitement in his voice.

His hand slowly slides over your waist before closing on one of your love wrists. He pinches you hard but not too much so as not to hurt you. The slight pain and pleasure, tears a moan from you.

He places his hands under your thighs and often lifts you from his thighs to carry you to the bedroom. "I know how quickly my girl makes a mess wherever she goes. I don't want you to dirty this expensive couch with your fluids.", you can only nod.

He puts you down abruptly but without hurting you on your big marital bed. He undresses you with his eyes. You can see his big cock growing through his simple jogging pants that he wears when he is at home. You like it when he wears them.

"Take off your clothes.", you comply and slowly remove your clothes under his excited gaze to provoke him. "Hurry up. You're becoming such a bad girl, honey.. I'm disappointed in you." (Obviously he doesn't think so) He looks at you mean and disappointed and goes to get something in his closet then comes back with a tie.

He moves closer to you and pins you against the bed. His hands search for your wrists to tie you up. He ties your wrists behind your back with his tie. Once done he removes your shorts and your soaked white panties and throws them into the room.

"Fuck baby you so wet at the thought of me being rough with you? I never knew you were such a slut.", his words only turn you on more. Every dirty word he says to you makes you wet.

Your needy throbbing pussy looks warm from the room and his intense gaze as he looks down at your soaking wet folds. All he wants is to eat you out and make you cum countless times on his tongue. His dick rises even higher at the thought.

He puts his hand on your waist and repositions you correctly and makes you spread your legs so that he can get between them. He looks at your big and thick thighs stained with stretch marks that make you even more beautiful according to him even if you don't like them. 

He lays on his stomach and puts his hands on your thighs. He looks at your hot and wet pussy. Nanami can only think about how he would eat your pussy and make you cum as many times as you want because you deserve it.

Her little angel with perfect curves.

He remembers that he had to be rough with you. He gives a little slap to test on your clitoris swollen barely touched. You moan with pleasure and surprise. You didn't expect it but that doesn't stop you from begging for more. - 779w

"M- more ken.. please.", he looks up at you and smiles. "My little slut girl wants more? You think you deserve more?", you really think you do. You're still his wife. "Y- yes."

He chuckles and spits on your wet, throbbing folds for him. "Beg if you mean it," then you start begging him like he wanted. He bites the inside of your thighs as he listens to your wonderful pleas in his ears.

"Hum good girl.", he hits your clit again a little harder without abusing not wanting to hurt you. Your little pussy gets even wetter. "Ken… so go- good.", you let out a muffled cry and your voice slowly breaks.

He slaps your clit harder. You moan louder, your voice breaking into a cry of pleasure. "Ah, slut... you like this, don't you?", he whispers, his eyes shining with desire. He licks your soaking wet pussy and abuses you wanting to drink you in.

He starts eating you out, he loves your juices so much, he might get addicted. He moves his thumb over your clit, making you arch your back in pleasure. "Do you want my fingers baby?" he asks, his voice low and sexy. "Yes...please," I beg, my voice breathy. He smiles, his eyes glistening with desire.

He straightens up and directs those fingers in front of your mouth. "Open up," you comply and open wide and take those big thick fingers into your mouth. You suck them and coat them with drool. The wet noises from your mouth only excite him. He wants to fuck your hot little mouth with his big dick but that will be for later.

He pulls his soaking wet fingers out and starts teasing your entrance with his middle finger. "I'm starting to doubt... I don't think you deserve those thick fingers in your slutty pussy.", he looks at you and sees your frustrated expression, it makes him smile. "Please Ken... I deserve them.", you had tears in your eyes and were begging him.

“Hmm…” he thrusts a finger into you suddenly, taking your breath away. You moan from the sudden intrusion and pleasure. He gives you time to breathe then starts moving his finger and pushing it deeper into you.

"Your fucking pussy is swallowing me. She's so greedy like you aren't she?", he chuckles inwardly and looks at your hardened and abandoned nipples. He slides his hand to one of your sensitive nipples and pinches it. It was a painful but so pleasurable.

He watches your reactions and sees that you like it so he starts again. He puts his mouth on the other nipple even more sensitive and runs his tongue over it. At the same time, he adds another finger inside you and starts going back and forth deep inside you and spreading your spongy and tight walls.

He continues then decides to lightly bite your nipple and suck it and with your other free hand, he pinches you and plays with your nipple. You feel simulated everywhere and the vision of Nanami sucking your breast makes you moan even more. "Ken! Ken-.. I'm go- going to cum!..", small tears threaten to fall.

He removes his fingers from your pussy, his hand from your breast and his mouth from your breast coated with his drool. "Shit..", he straightens up and looks at your defeated expression and your light trembling body. He gives one last slap on your wet folds.

"I'm gonna breed that tight little pussy wet and needy with my cum.. that's what you want slut isn't it?", you can only nod. Your pussy is throbbing with anticipation, you want him to breed you.

"You're such a slut baby I didn't know you were like that.", he slowly undresses letting you admire his perfectly sculpted Greek God physique and his veins that only enhance it. How lucky you were to have such a handsome and sexy husband.

His big veiny dick is finally free from the tissues, throbbing and the precum leaking from his red tip made you want to get your face fucked but what you want now is his fucking cock inside you.

Your arms are starting to hurt and get tired but you can handle it. "Your arms hurt? Do you want me to untie you baby?", his voice was softer like he usually does when he's worried. "I can handle it.. just breed me Ken. I want your sperm inside me and filled with you.", when you talk to him like that he can't resist.

"Fuck you're gonna kill me.", he whispers low and turns you over onto your stomach. "Place yourself. Get comfortable.", replacing you properly so that you're comfortable and your ass is proudly displayed in front of your husband's cock that needs attention.

He stands behind you and takes your ass in hand and kneads it. He loves your ass fucking. He rubs his cock between the two cheeks of your buttocks and decides to spank you. You moan with happiness, he hasn't fucked you yet but you thought you saw the stars.

He rubs the tip of his dick over your swollen clit. He slaps you several more times. He watches your skin turn red from the slaps. He strokes your ass then enters your tight, soaking wet pussy. He almost never needed lube because you were so wet every time.

He gives you time to adjust to his size. The number of times you had him was uncountable but you never managed to adjust to his size quickly. After a while he started to move. You moan, my eyes closing in pleasure.

He keeps moving, his hip thrusts rhythmically getting harder and deeper. "I'm gonna fuck this little pussy.. I wanna fill you with my cum. You're my own little cum cave aren't you?", he moans low and keeps a flawless but incredibly good rhythm that makes you roll your eyes.

"Y- yes.. yes daddy I'm your cum cave..", you moan and without realizing it you called him daddy. His cock grows even more inside you. "Fucking girl. Do you want daddy to make you a mama?", his hand slides into your hair and pulls it back. Your head comes off the pillow and you nod, tears streaming down your face.

He continues to fuck you in a hard rhythm. Your tight, warm spongy walls are squeezing him. Your pussy was the dream, he's convinced you were made for him. He pulls your arms towards him making sure your back is against his chest and his other hand takes your jaw and kisses you.

He moves his hand to slide lower to your swollen clit and starts rubbing small circles on it. He places small kisses on your shoulder and bites it. He licks the bite and kisses it. He's so wild now. You like it so much.

Minutes later, back in the initial position, his rhythm becomes more messy but deeper. He was going to cum soon. You were going to cum soon too. You feel your walls and eyes flutter. "Daddy.. I'm gonna soon-…", he cuts you off and slaps your sensitive clit.

"You want to cum before daddy? Aren't you ashamed, dirty girl. You're becoming a bad girl.", you whine, you don't want to be a bad girl. You want to be good for him. "Sorry daddy I didn't want to. I want to be good..", you feel his hand on your breast and pinch your nipple.

"Good girl. Take my cum in that tight little hot pussy of mine.", he whispers in your ear and thrusts deep and hard. Drool runs down your chin, you moan, scream, cry. Shit, you’re an absolute but delicious mess to Nanami.

A few moments later you feel Nanami's cock throbbing then Nanami's hot ropes in your pussy which now belongs to him. You cum at the same time, letting yourself see the stars. He goes back and forth a few times then withdraws his soft dick soaked with your juices. His cum drips from your little hole and onto your trembling thighs. Fuck.

He never told you, but he's been wanting to fuck you like this for a while.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

sub to me for more fanfic !

requests: OPEN.

other fanfic NSFW (salaryman! Nanami x fem! black reader.)

© 2024 mrsh4rdy. All work belongs to @mrsh4rdy. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[lechrts]

Hiii! Could u write abt Oscar getting a crush on a girl that works at hospitality and he’s terrible at hiding it ? Thankssss

The Two of Us. ✷ Oscar Piastri

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Employee!reader

Summary: When he has a massive crush and never knows how to act when he’s around you.

Word Count: 2.1k

Disclaimer/s: Fluffff!!! AWKWARD!oscar…. teehee andddd reader works in f1 hospitality and all that jazz :3

Vera’s Voice! LOVEDDD this request thank u for submitting!!!!. personally my fave so far :’) hope u enjoy :3 SMIRK.

Oscar was terrible at hiding things.

He always had been, actually. Whether it was his nerves before a race, his tendency to overthink every decision, or, as it turned out, the fact that he had developed a massive crush on you.

You worked in F1 hospitality, handling the teams needs, making sure everything ran smoothly, always with a smile on your face.

Oscar often saw you rushing around during race weeks, organizing drinks, coordinating with the chefs, and generally keeping things running in perfect order.

He admired your ability to juggle it all while making it look effortless. But over time, his admiration had morphed into something far more complicated — something he couldn’t ignore.

And the worst part?

He was absolutely terrible at hiding it.

Oscar knew he was being obvious. He could feel his heart race every time you passed by. His palms would sweat, his words would get jumbled, and his eyes would follow you across the paddock like he was under some kind of spell.

He had tried to play it cool, to not let his feelings show, but every time you smiled at him or greeted him, it was like everything he had worked so hard for in his career flew out the window.

And today was no different.

It was an unusually quiet morning preparing for the upcoming practice sessions. The hospitality area was quiet, and Oscar, ever the over-thinker, had found his way to the coffee station.

His fingers drummed against the counter, eyes flicking from one side to the other, waiting for the perfect opportunity to speak to you.

He realized you were standing nearby, organizing some supplies, until you spoke up.

“Goodmorning, Oscar! Need a coffee?” You greeted and asked with a friendly smile, making him jump slightly.

He looked up, caught in the act of staring at you. “Uh—hi, Goodmorning.” He cleared his throat and smiled softly. “And y—yes, that’d be great,” His words stammered, trying to hide the fact that he’d been watching you.

You didn’t seem to notice. You were too focused on pulling the right kind of coffee for him, as always, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

He couldn’t help but watch you work, amazed at how effortlessly you navigated the space, chatting with a few colleagues while still managing to prepare everything just the way everyone liked it.

Oscar, on the other hand, felt like he couldn’t even hold a conversation with you without tripping over his words.

He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly when you handed him his coffee.

“Thank you,” He smiled, taking it from your hands with a bit too much eagerness. The warmth from the cup didn’t do much to calm the fluttering in his chest.

“No problem,” You said casually, but there was something in the way you glanced at him, as if you were trying to figure him out.

“Mm..” You hummed softly, analyzing him with narrowed eyes and a teasing demeanor but you were still clueless about the way he felt. You were just messing around. “You alright?“

Oscar froze, his heart skipping a beat. Did he really look that obvious? He immediately thought of the worst possible scenario — that everyone could tell how much he was crushing on you.

He forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

“Oh, yeah! Just tired. Got a long day ahead,” He said quickly, hoping to sound nonchalant. “You know how it is.”

You smiled again, that kind smile that made his stomach twist in a good way. “I hear you. Race weekends are always busy. You should take it easy when you can.”

Oscar nodded, but his eyes couldn’t stop flicking back to you. He knew he was being so obvious, but he didn’t know how to stop it. It was like there was some magnetic pull between you, and he was powerless to resist.

“You’re, uh... really good at what you do,” He said, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. His face heated up in embarrassment, and he fumbled with his coffee cup, trying to look like he wasn’t just blabbering on.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden compliment. “Oh, Thanks!” A soft and flattered giggle escaped your lips, clearly a little surprised. “I’m just doing my job.”

Oscar winced internally.

Why did he always sound so weird when he talked to you?

Before he could say anything else to dig himself into a deeper hole, a couple of other team members walked into the area, greeting you with familiar waves.

Oscar took the opportunity to retreat back to the McLaren garage, hoping he hadn’t completely embarrassed himself.

Later on, going into the early afternoon, the Aussie was casually lounging with his dearest teammate, taking a break from the madness of the day.

Lando, ever the curious one, knew about his Oscar’s little crush and had been sure to watch his reactions every race weekend.

The way he would suddenly stiffen up whenever you walked into the room, the way his eyes would lock onto you from across the paddock — it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Oscar, as usual, was trying to act casual. He was sipping on his water, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his eyes kept flicking over to where you were standing, talking with some of the hospitality crew.

You were laughing at something someone had said, completely unaware that Oscar’s heart was about to leap out of his chest.

Lando, noticing this for the hundredth time, raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair with a knowing smirk. “So... how long are you gonna keep doing this?”

Oscar’s head snapped to him, his face flushing immediately. “What?”

Lando let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He chuckled. “Mate, you’ve got it bad.”

Oscar groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t have it bad,” He scoffed. “I’m just... I don’t know. It’s not like I can just walk up and ask her out.”

Lando snorted. “Are you twelve? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oscar shot him a look. “Say no.. And then it’d be... weird?”

“Well, yeah, that’s possible,” Lando admitted. “But, seriously. What’s there to be afraid of? You’re a top performance athlete and you’re afraid of rejection?”

Oscar groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is completely different. This is personal.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin widening before he snorted, clearly amused. “You’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be. If you ask her out and she says no, it’s not the end of the world. But if you don’t try, you’ll never know. You can’t just keep staring at her from across the room forever.” He paused.

“And that’s just creepy.”

Oscar winced at the thought. “I’m not a stalker.”

“I’m just saying,” Lando shrugged. “You’ve got to at least try.“

Oscar’s face flushed, his nerves getting the best of him as he glanced over at you again, laughing with the hospitality team. He couldn’t help but feel the pull of wanting to ask, but his anxiety still held him back.

“I don’t know...” Oscar muttered, taking a deep breath. “What if she thinks I’m … I don’t know.. weird..”

Lando leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You’re weird regardless.” He rolled his eyes.

“Ha. Thanks.” The Aussie sarcastically quipped.

“Just go for it, mate. Trust me, it’ll feel a lot better than holding onto it.”

Oscar’s eyes darted back to you again. Lando was right, wasn’t he? His whole body was practically buzzing with anticipation.

Lando was basically daring him to take the plunge. He had to admit, there was a part of him that was tired of waiting.

“Okay,” Oscar said, his voice low but determined.

Lando’s grin widened, satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear. Go and make your move, mate.”

Later, the evening eventually arrived, and the paddock slowly filled up with people winding down after a long day. Oscar found himself aimlessly wandering, still unsure how to make his move.

It was now or never.

He couldn’t just keep pining over you in silence.

As he walked past the team lounge, he saw you again, standing by the refreshments table, chatting with a couple of other crew members.

He stopped in his tracks, his palms suddenly sweating. He had promised himself he’d do it tonight, but the closer he got, the more his courage wavered.

You looked over and saw him standing there, looking like he was about to hyperventilate, so you waved him over after your colleagues parted their ways.

“Evening, Oscar!” You smiled as he approached your beverage cart. “Need anything?”

He blinked, panicking. This was it. He had to do it now.

“Hi,” He stammered, stepping closer. “Um. Can I... can we actually talk for a minute?”

You gave him a puzzled but polite smile. “Uh.. Yeah sure, what’s up?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but for some reason, the words just wouldn’t come. He felt like he was about to melt into a puddle of awkwardness right in front of you.

He cleared his throat.

Just ask her, Oscar. Come on.

“I’ve been thinking,” He began, his voice coming out much higher than he intended. “And I just—well, I thought it’d be nice if you and I went out sometime.” He briefly paused.

“You know, like, for dinner. Just the two of us.”

You blinked at him, tilting your head as you processed his words.

He could tell you were trying to figure out if he was joking.

And honestly?

He wasn’t sure either.

But he had already said it, and now there was no turning back.

Your smile softened, but there was a hint of confusion in your eyes. “You mean, like a date?”

Oscar's heart was pounding in his chest. His throat felt dry, and all he could do was nod awkwardly.

“Yeah, um... yeah. Like a date,” He mumbled, wishing the floor would just swallow him whole.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now. But, I’m... I’m not great at this stuff.”

There was a long pause.

Oscar's palms were sweating, and he was sure his face was bright red. He was pretty sure he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he could’ve sworn he was going to faint right then and there.

You blinked a few times, and then your lips curled into a slow, surprised smile.

And then, you giggled.

Oscar’s eyes widened. It wasn’t the teasing laugh he’d feared. No, it was sweet. It was genuine. The kind of laugh that made his heart race even more.

“You’re asking me out?” You asked with a quiet, sweet laugh, clearly taken aback.

“Y-yeah, I... I know this is probably a little awkward,” He admitted, feeling himself sink deeper into the ground. “But, I do like you. A lot.”

You blinked at him, and then your cheeks flushed as you took a step back. “Oh my God, Oscar,” You whispered softly, still giggling. “I had no idea! I thought you were just being... well, you know, your usual kind self.”

Oscar’s heart nearly stopped. “Wait, you... you didn’t realize?”

“No,” You said with a laugh, almost shy now. “I had no clue.”

Oscar let out a nervous laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’m not as smooth as I thought.”

You smiled warmly. “I am just a bit oblivious…” And there was a soft gleam in your eyes as you met his gaze. “But! This is... really sweet. I didn’t expect this. I think it sounds great.”

Oscar’s heart did a somersault. “So... you’d... go out with me?”

You laughed again, the sound sending a wave of warmth through him. “Of course I would. It sounds like it’ll be fun.”

His grin widened, and before he could even process it, he found himself letting out a small, relieved laugh. “Alright, then. I can text you and we can figure it out.”

You smiled back at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

Oscar stood there for a moment, utterly dazed.

He had done it.

He had actually done it.

And you’d said yes.

It was the best feeling in the world.

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