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solomons-poison · 2 years ago

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maybe obey me?

heartbreak angst?? “your leaving arent you” sorry if im being vague..

Heartbreak

A/N: You're totally fine with your request! I just want to make sure you get what you were looking for :) This is my first time writing angst without comfort, and tbh I haven't even really written angst aha.. These all feel a little wordy, especially Simeon's, but I hope you enjoy! This one kind of escaped me 😬 they're not very headcanon-like lol

Featuring: GN reader || Diavolo x reader, Barbatos x reader, Simeon x reader, Solomon x reader

Warnings: angst of course; breakups; mentions of falling in Simeon's part; mentions of death in Solomon's part

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Diavolo

You both should have known better from the start, but as they say, love is blind, and it certainly seemed to give you both blinders to the fate of your relationship.

The topic of the future of your relationship was not something you had discussed in detail with each other... or at all, really. One moment, you were the human world representative and he the Prince of the Devildom. And the next, he'd taken you on as his precious lover.

Sure, you'd had a small discussion of logistics regarding marriage with the brothers at one point, each of them expressing their desire to marry you and bring you into the family. Even Solomon had joined in on the discussion, clearly having fun regarding this debate topic and the advantage he'd have as a fellow human. Eventually, you all had come to the conclusion that, at this point in time, marriage wasn't yet feasible due to the newness of human and demon collaboration.

It wasn't that you two didn't understand this conclusion; after all, it was Diavolo that had pointed this out to the others. But perhaps in your eagerness to explore these feelings, it made you two ignore all the other details regarding this issue. That not only was a relationship between a human and a demon not viewed positively by most demons, but you were also dating their ruler, someone that lived by a completely different set of rules from others. Someone with expectations and priorities to meet, plus the possibility of needing the Demon King's approval as well.

And so, it should have only been natural and understandable what happened next, but the pain of it would still stay with you both forevermore.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" were the words Dia uttered to you one night while holding each other close. You hadn't yet mentioned your concerns to him, in fact you hadn't even finalized your decision on what you were going to do about it. But somehow, he still knew. Both of you sensed where things were going, even though you didn't want to admit it. You couldn't answer him that night, but you knew you'd have to eventually.

It was you that walked away first.

Maybe the honeymoon period of the relationship had worn off, or perhaps it finally hit you about the strange and even nasty looks other demons gave you when they saw you and Diavolo together. The whispers carried to both your and Diavolo's ears about the people's opinions. You didn't want to run away from the issue. But at one point, you realized that this wasn't something you two were meant to force.

Relations between humans and demons would grow eventually, if the exchange program and improved education had anything to do with it. But that change was still a long way off, and you owed it to yourself but also the ruler of the Devildom to cut things now, before any long-lasting damage was done.

You quickly and quietly sorted out a return to the Human World. It wasn't without protest from multiple parties, and surprisingly even Lucifer could not agree with your decision right away. But eventually everyone folded. You hadn't needed to mention your decision to Diavolo, either. He never questioned you again after that night, seemingly coming to a mutual understanding, and he permitted the portal entry without a word, seeing you off with some simple words of farewell.

Everyone else was uncomfortable with the situation but knew there wasn't much they could do to change your mind. They continued to visit you on rare occasion in the human world over time, providing their emotional support and distracting with silly antics. But no one could ignore the palpable tension in the air when you eventually decided to marry and Diavolo arrived to give his best wishes, a smile on his face but not in his eyes.

All you could do was remind yourself that you did what had to be done.

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Barbatos

Catching feelings was never on Barbatos' agenda. Not that he was some cold, unfeeling robot, incapable of emotions. But he'd spent so many years at Diavolo's side, essentially "tamed" after all that time, always busy attending to the needs of the kingdom and the Prince, he didn't have time to entertain the thought of a relationship.

But upon you entering his life, his concept of his wants and needs completely flipped upside down. You did have to fight hard for his affections to start, but once he came to terms with how he felt, it was like something switched in him and the floodgates opened.

What was initially a business-like and cold demeanor, melted into a warm sweetness and a surprisingly playful personality. He would invite you for tea and sweets made specifically for you, even making baking dates on occasion; he was much more open in his mannerisms and jokes, and others would find him talking about you during casual conversation.

Diavolo was delighted, of course. Barbatos was extremely good at hiding his emotions, but his employer knew him long enough to see through it all. He loved witnessing his hard-working butler practically lovesick, his eyes always coming back to look at you during your visits to the castle, lingering a moment longer than usual during your meetings. Everyone else was just astonished by the effect you had on this stoic butler, and how you managed to bring out this seemingly new side to him.

However, the joy was not to last. Although your interactions were often limited to just within the castle, your few interactions in R.A.D. managed to catch the attention of a few students, leading to gossip and rumors about the strange influence of the human world exchange student.

At first it was just jokes regarding your ability to wrangle so many demons under your belt. But as time went on, the gossip became vicious, accusing you of purposefully trying to influence the Prince and interfere in Devildom matters. After all, if even you could get to the heart of the Prince's right hand man, what could stop you from getting involved with the Prince himself? Some commoner nobody that had no business getting involved?

Diavolo had warned before that the relationship between demons and humans was still a rocky one, but perhaps you hadn't fully understood the consequences when you chose to pursue Barbatos. And even Barbatos was guilty of wearing rose colored glasses as he came to know you and fall for you.

As the rumors only worsened, you both knew something would need to change, but perhaps you were a little more idealistic in your options than your lover, hoping for a choice that would please everyone.

But Barbatos had different priorities to consider, ones that were millenia in the making. And although he wanted to follow his heart, he yearned for it, his priority lay ultimately with the crown, and Barbatos was the first to walk away.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" you couldn't help but ask him finally. He had approached you at R.A.D. stating he needed to discuss an important matter with you, alone. You knew in your heart that if it was something school-related, he would make a formal meeting with the others involved. And the ever-spreading rumors regarding your "true intentions" certainly didn't bode well for a growing relationship, either.

Admittedly, your question threw him off, but the following silence was enough of an answer for you. In the end, your breakup was mutual, after he laid out his concerns and provided his evidence for his decision. But it didn't fix the gaping void left in both your hearts afterwards, and try as he might, the effect on Barbatos was clear as day. No one could find a way to refute your mutual decision, and you remained one of Barbatos' biggest regrets for all the wrong reasons.

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Simeon

Falling in love with you is as unexpected for you as it is for Simeon. He convinced himself that he felt the same for all humans, including you, though he believed every human unique and a special individual. But every interaction with you had him falling further and further into the rabbit's hole well before he even knew what was happening.

By the time he understood his feelings, he was tightly wound around your little finger, always eager for your attention and your love, and you were happy to give it to him. And although the others, particularly the brothers, were a little upset about your choice in partner, they were still happy for you two and felt it was a sweet match.

That's why everything seemed picture perfect, to start. You two went on dates, learned more about each other's respective Worlds, baked together, and you encouraged his creativity in his writing. He helped you grow and learn, but it wasn't one-sided; Simeon definitely changed as well, becoming more open to his own feelings and desires. You two were the picture perfect couple, in everyone's eyes.

But something nagged at the back of your mind, your gut telling you that something wasn't quite right. You did your best to ignore it, though, as Simeon really did seem to be the ideal boyfriend, attentive to your wants and needs, thoughtful and considerate and the very definition of an angel. You did your best to reciprocate and things seemed to be going smoothly for a while.

It wasn't until you spotted a feather on Simeon's bed one day, pure white at the base but noticeably darkened at the tip with a black you could only attribute to Lucifer's wings, that you realized your hunch was correct. Something, someone was causing Simeon to fall. And you just knew that you were the cause.

You didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was difficult bringing up the concept of a fallen angel without making it obvious you were concerned for Simeon. And little by little, your suspicions were confirmed as you witnessed his behavior changing, his sins floating up to the surface more and more often and the occasional fallen feather measuring how much further he'd fallen.

You weren't even sure how to bring it up to him. Sweet, smart Simeon would do his best to either rationalize what was happening, or even worse, try to put the blame on himself instead of you, and any debate with Simeon was difficult to win. Time and time again, you considered how to broach the subject, but in the end, you couldn't do it right. You could only hope that leaving him would correct things, save him from this devastating experience.

The distance between you two started to grow, slowly at first, but Simeon eventually noticed the way you were slipping from his grasp. It wasn't long before others began to catch on as well, particularly Lucifer and Luke, noting the awkward air that formed between the two former lovebirds. However, conversations trying to investigate died on their lips, unable to make you answer, and you had none to give them anyway.

Simeon did his best to try to repair what was breaking, but it only seemed to push you further away each time, leaving him utterly lost. At least if you yelled at him, screamed, even hit him, it would be better than the utter nothing he was left with. But you couldn't bring yourself to say the words you needed to, the true reason for why you were drifting from him.

Simeon knew something was wrong, but he feared your answer more than anything, or rather the rejection he knew was coming, so he did his best to pretend even though he knew that was wrong. The right thing would be to confront you, be open about his worries and his desires, ensure you know that he would never blame you for anything that would come of this relationship, but he seemed to lose his words when he saw you.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" was uttered through his lips finally, one evening, but they fell upon no one's ears but his own.

Eventually, you were the first to walk away. When you did finally voice your decision to end things, he knew it didn't make sense, but he respected your agency enough not to question your feelings. It wasn't until years later he discovered the truth of it, but he never blamed you for it, although his heart ached just a little bit more, never having forgotten your love.

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Solomon

Solomon never intended to get this involved with you. He was simply intrigued by you, a human world exchange student that he later found out to be an incredibly powerful sorcerer that also managed to attract the attention of several high-ranking demons.

You were a fascinating person, a once-in-a-lifetime individual that he couldn't help but want to get to know better, to get closer to as time went on and be your guide. He couldn't help but be attracted to you, even more so than he thought, and that's what led to the greatest dilemma he's dealt with in ages.

Solomon avoided making close relationships with normal humans after repeat incidents of outliving them every single time. There was a reason he dealt with mostly demons and witches now, people that were a bit hardier that he wouldn't have to say goodbye to so soon.

But with you, he couldn't help himself. You were like a siren, calling him closer and closer with your sweet song, until he was totally ensnared. And it wasn't long before he realized what these feelings were, the tight feeling around his heart and the way his eyes could never leave you when you were in the room.

He knew he'd come to regret this, he always did, but his brain and his heart battled long and hard about how to deal with this. For a while, he let himself indulge in your presence, and the fantasy that he could have a normal life with you, move in together, get married, maybe found a new magical society together.

But as time passed, celebrating multiple birthdays together, and he started to notice physical signs of aging, gray showing in your hair roots and wrinkles developing at the corners of your eyes, it scared him about what was coming. Of course, he spent ages looking into ways to elongate a human's life, like what had happened to him. But he didn't even know how to broach that subject with you even if he had found a way.

What if you declined? Would you two try to settle for what time you had left, together, watching you slowly die as he remains unchanged? Could his heart even take that?

Or what if you accepted, but came to hate everlasting life like he did? What if you became immortal, but the never-ending years made the world bleak and gray for you, too? And you lost the light in your eyes? He would never forgive himself for that.

So he did the next best thing he could think of, and decided to not even give you the choice. Of course, it was easier said than done, but he couldn't figure out another way around it. He became more distant, less intimate with you, building up his walls again that you'd spent ages breaking down to begin with. At first you didn't quite catch on, but the more it happened, the more it dawned on you what was happening, although you couldn't place why.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

He knew the question was coming, and he hated himself for how second-nature it was to feign a smile for you. You both knew the feelings you had for each other, but Solomon hid his worries and true reason for leaving in his heart, far away from you.

He was the one that stepped away.

He'll play it off as a loss of interest, that for an immortal like him, it was inevitable that he'd fall out of love at some point and to not take it personally. You knew this was bullshit, however, but couldn't find a way to get to the bottom of it. It was a very rough breakup, one that confused and saddened everyone else that had been watching you two get together, these two magical peas in a pod, inseparable and complementary to the other.

Asmodeus was ready to give Solomon hell for you, he was the most worried one of the bunch, and Barbatos knew too that something was off. But they couldn't do much as you refused. In the end, Solomon never confided his true reason for leaving, but you just knew it wasn't as cut and dry as he made it out to be.

#diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #the minx can write ✍️#obey me angst

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xxvalkyriesxx · 6 months ago

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Sorry I tried to reply but it got wordy. So because of her mother Nesta was trained and told she would marry to raise up the family’s social status and she received scars as a result of that training. But she also watched her father dote of her sisters knowing that she would not get that affection from him. We see that it was very isolating for her and something she struggles to overcome as an adult( also something she uses to punish herself) but she also is a romance reader. Part of her wants that but knows she can not have it and doesn’t think she deserve it. And while I kind of understand what Cassian was doing after the war his way of interacting with her just enforced those ideas. With her childhood I just felt she wanted someone to choose her sharp edges and all but also felt like she wasn’t worthy of someone choosing her. The lines that really sold me on it being her song were

“ I got cursed like Eve got bitten. Oh is it punishment” her views on being turned.

“Don’t want money just someone who wants my company” she mentions that Eliane never comes to her other then to try and convince her to come back to the river house. And we know Feyre didn’t either. They judged where she spent her time but didn’t spend time with her in places that made her feel comfortable.

“cards in the table my played out likes fools in a fable” we know Nesta Gambled and the literary reference to a fool in love.

“ Still I dream of him” obviously this line feels like it’s about Cassian.

The references to witches and wolves in the bridge that they refer to Nesta as in cannon. Mentions looking unstable and just the desperation to have someone tell you it’s okay. to me the song seems very Nesta after the war when there was probably still hints of hope in her. Before her mind destroyed it.

NOT ME SOBBING OMFG. I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT. OMFG 😭😭♥️ BABY GIRL NESTA WITH THE PROPHECY 😭😭😭💔♥️

I’m in awe of all the details you just went through holy crap!!! I love it!!!! Now I need to listen to this song 500+ times and think about all of this 🥲😭♥️ honestly if Nesta was a TS album, she would be TTPD (the vibes !??!?)

Anyway I know I mentioned how I saw this song connected to Rhys so I wanted to explain my reasoning! Before going forward I don’t remember everything from the series as well as I’m not the biggest fan of Rhys either however he does have moments I really do love him .

With The Prophecy I see it as a long time from when Rhys was younger up until a few months before he met Feyre.

“Hand on the throttle / thought I caught lightning in a bottle / oh, but it’s gone again”

-How his only experience with love had been familiarity and that was all taken away from him in a second. How he settles more or less into being high lord but there’s something missing (or someone one ;)).

“I’ve been on my knees / Change the prophecy / don’t want money / just someone who wants my / company”

-He watched his parents have a loveless bond. And now he’s alone (yes the IC are there however it’s different kind of intimacy that he can’t share with all of them). It could been seen as this how it is for the High Lords of the Night Courts - go through centuries of existing before meeting someone, but is there even someone for you out there, or are you destined to be alone? I think Rhys always wanted to have someone by his side. He had power, money, influence, magic - everything. And yet he didn’t have this one thing. It was the one thing he couldn’t get/find.

“Oh, I still dream of him” (her for Rhys’ case)

-I believe Rhys had dreams/visions of Feyre at some point. I can’t remember how long ago they happened before he met her and how often they were either. But let’s say for my case he did have multiple dreams of her. He dreams of this woman with no real connection to him. Maybe just maybe this woman is meant for something maybe even bigger than him, but he doesn’t know. All he knows ideally is a few physically traits. But she haunts his mind. Would she change his prophecy?

“I’m so afraid I sealed my fate / no sign of soulmates / I’m just a paperweight / in shades of greige”

-UTM when Rhys decides to play into Amarantha’s back pocket. Every year he could’ve lost hope as he waited for Tamlin to break the damn curse. There were no signs of soulmates. He was just a body, a toy, a number to Amarantha. He offered himself to protect the ones he loved but also to try to know her every other move. Near the end of the 49 years he might have believed his fate was sealed. There was very little hope then.

“A lesser woman would’ve lost hope / a greater woman wouldn’t beg”

- Since his birth Rhys has always been tested. He was always meant to be the best version of himself at all times. He was the heir to the night court and then began high lord. He’s supposed to be the greatest. It’s huge burden of an image he has to uphold. He shouldn’t be begging for something that probably his father saw has trivial. Something that we don’t know for sure Rhys felt for anyone before Feyre or even witnessed from a couple in love. But I can imagine he grew lonely, very lonely.

Anyway that’s all I can come up with haha. Like I said not a Rhys girlie so any Rhys girlies who wanna chime in please do! I would love to hear your thoughts and such.

Hopefully this kinda makes sense 😅😅😅

#rhysand #acotar #feysand #feyre archeron

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mathmusicreading · 3 months ago

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Blog(ger) Shift

I am, so weird and bad about original posting and about reblogging and about saving things on Tumblr and that's why my blog has been mostly inactive or the lurking consumer type. But I don't want my fears about putting myself out there, being seen and known, articulating myself well vs. having been told my whole life I'm too wordy and opinionated vs. not managing to articulate myself well enough to justify being verbose and passionate, etc. to continue to control me so much.

So for my new specific-interest sideblog that I'm not locking, I hope it being themed will help me with making more original posts and reblogging, and I'm publicizing that here to push myself and also welcome interaction.

RIP to my other public specific-interest sideblog and the fandom sideblog I took over for someone that I didn't take further and to my private sideblogs that were meant to make me reblog and save and say stuff because they would be personal and just for me. I still would like to make those happen and reblogging and posting things that matter to me here, and oh my heart for the content ideas I haven't been working on, but they're pipedreams with how I'm (not) managing my life and I keep kicking those cans down the road.

To the person who I developed a real relationship with as a beta but who by now I probably count as having disappeared on with how long it's been and my not coming back to explicitly say I still can't help and don't know when I can, I am so sorry. I'm being a coward languishing in hoping I can tell you soon that I can get back into beta-ing for you and talking, but that's turned into me not talking to you because I'm waiting to be able to say something positive. Hopefully my vaguing here can help push me into talking to you, or at least this is here for you to read if you happen to see it; and I want you to know you absolutely can talk to me, can call me out, and if you're so gracious as to still want to be friends with me and just chat despite my dropping being your beta, I'm here for you and still want to be your friend even if I don't know if I'll have the spoons to be a good one and I know my saying that preemptively isn't apology or justification enough.

Honest assessment, I'm going to curse and say my living situation and work have both become even more of a shitshow, and with those things in mind I can't begin to imagine handling a real project until basically literally a year from now.

Which segues back into the main topic of this post. My goal isn't to have my new sideblog be like an active mainblog nor to abandon this blog—people interested in that blog can and should still interact with me here given how primary vs. secondary blogs on Tumblr work, and in terms of using that blog to help make me be a better Tumblr user, I think I should make certain original posts here and reblog them there as opposed to them being original there. With my mental-emotional and time resources, I want that blog to be "active" for a given definition of active, but really I think I should see my objective as "clear out tabs and likes and photos and lists and notes and drafts, etc. from the last four months" by saving stuff there, as opposed to my goal being the original posts I want to make there, and actually my long-term goal should be to use that momentum to do the same for older digital and physical storage that hasn't been lost or stolen. In my failure to be an interesting person, do I at least manage to be fascinating as a basket-case? Ha. But, also, as expressed above the Read More, the exercise of my danmei/Chinese sideblog is supposed to be a foray into me allowing myself to be an interesting person.

#my stuff #Ok I think there were just the two posts so far to be reblogged from here to my side blog #At this point I think I can determine the amount of “me/original” put into them warrants the My Stuff tag per how I think I meant to use it #But I'm not adding the tag to those posts and am instead letting people know they should check my sideblog and the Main tag there #which actually means search for Main because I think not everything will show up since Tumblr only organizes by the first five tags?#how long have I mistakenly thought only the first five tags showed in the Tumblr-wide tags but that the others would still work on blogs oo #and probably danmei related posts will be original on the sideblog and Chinese related posts will be related here #Now back to the tags from before I went over those two posts #lol at my private blogs that have drafts but nothing posted or reblogged #I stand by my aesthetics designing all of these though #will have to do some thinking on headers and icons and blog titles/descriptions if I end up getting to the point of #clearing up and saving stuff for interests I didn't already make sideblogs for #And it's funny (sad) that for the fandom that I thought would be lasting for me personally and for fandom as a whole and I made an ao3feed #blog for given that and not realizing someone else already had after ao3feeds broke and because of my thoughts on how to organize for Tumbl #I'll still be interested for beta-ing for my friend and in my content ideas that will probably never see fruition #but I feel less than for any other fandom like I will want to go back and reread and I think that some ill feelings from this fandom must'v #affected me more than I thought. Hopefully things are more positive though because while I'm not feeling so much thinking about my fav fic #when I cast my mind about for other good writing and beautiful stories I do feel more urge and drive to reread #Hopefully it's that I still love that fic but am fatigued on the rereads I've already given it but I still have the spark of love for the #fandom and perspective will help me focus back on fondness for the community especially remembering that higher level of and more #contemporary involvement were why I could reach the threshold of having more negative experiences

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

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Part nine of the More to Love series

Summary: Plans for the ball are in full swing, the concealment of your relationship with the knight dwindles and you make a deal with one another that leads to both of you learning a new and valuable skill

Word Count: 8.9k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (oral sex F receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms), swearing, mentions of wounds

Author’s Note: and we’re back to your regularly scheduled royalty and princesscore writings. this chapter is very chill honestly, but i still really enjoyed writing it! there’s also the introduction of THE DRESS. y’all this dress is insane you really aren’t ready i am OBSESSED with this dress.

Part eight

“Are you listening, Princess?” You hadn’t even realized you had zoned out. Your cheek was bright red from resting against your palm, and your eyes had glazed over with boredom. You hoped you didn’t look too uninterested, but considering the literal Queen of Mandalore looked down at you with folded arms and one arched eyebrow, you were less than confident that you looked engrossed in the conversation.

The Queen, Lady Reeves and yourself have been inside a yellow-themed parlor all morning discussing plans for the ball. Your Knight stood patiently by the door, overseeing the entire meeting. You wore a long sleeve dress that was too hot for the summer sun, which was slowly drying out the mud and puddles from then two-day long rainstorm that no one predicted. You spent the entire day yesterday pretending to rest from the exhausting day previous, but you were really hiding your arm from everyone else. You tried to argue with Koska that a long sleeve in the middle of summer would look for more suspicious than a simple bandage on your bicep, but she disagreed to say the least. The Knight stopped limping this morning, although you were convinced he was just faking it for good measure. If others knew he was injured, it could raise suspicion that you were too. You also think he didn’t want you to worry about him. The stab wound really wasn’t that deep, but you knew it had to have hurt more than he was showing. You thought he should take a few days off to rest his leg and to really spend time with his son, but he refused to.

You look up from your emotionless stare out the window, which showed the sea in the distance. The ocean was so different here compared to what it’s like in Corellia. There are sandy beaches and the water’s warm, whereas back home, it’s often frozen over, and is lined with rocky fjords and coves. You wanted to go down to one of those beaches soon if you could. They looked relaxing and much more intruiging than a wordy meeting that you stopped listening in on Lord knows when.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute.” You clear your throat, looking up at the ginger above you. You bat your eyelashes, trying do play off innocent and truthful. She shrugged, and turned around to pull something out of Koska’s hands.

“I was saying that now that we have the food and decor arranged for the ball, we can talk about the important things.” She says as she whips around for the big reveal that you weren’t expecting: iher arms was the most extravagant, fluffy gown you had ever seen. It was a soft rose gold, the skirt was huge and round, tulle pillowing out from the bodice which had clearly been hand-beaded by nimble fingers to have five-pedaled flowers with curly vines growing out of them. There was a soft sweet-heart neckline, the lace and beading of the bodice came up past the structure to overlap where your skin would be, The sleeves were off the shoulder, which was common for Mandalorian summer gowns. The skirt had a soft hint of sparkles and real diamonds had been sewn into the centers of each flower along the gown.

You perked up as you saw the ornament, your attention being drawn from the crashing waves of the ocean to the prettiest dress you had ever seen. You think you sighed, but you weren’t really sure. Dresses have always been a part of your life, designers from all over the world would send you their best sets, and it’s rare for you to wear the same gown more than once. This isn’t the first time you had been presented with a dress that costed more than some of the houses in the kingdom, but there was something different about it. It had a special glow to it, unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Her Radiance Ahsoka brought it, it’s a wedding gift from the Woodland elves.” Koska speaks up when she sees your reaction. Both her and the Queen were amused at your childlike awe. “That’s why it has that shimmer, they used silk spinners and gold.”

“I… I can’t accept this.” You wanted to, but you were desperately trying to be humble and calm in this situation. The dresses never meant that much to you, it’s just a piece of clothing. You have always been far more into the politics that came with royalty, not the fashion, so this was a first.

“Well of course you can.” The queen chuckled, “It would be rude not to.” You wished you could tell her that wearing such an extravagance would feel in vain because you did not feel affection towards the person you’ll be wearing it for. However, you supposed she was right, it would be rude to turn down a gift from the literal elves. You stand up from where you sat, walking over the dress that took your breath away. You wondered what the Knight thought of it, and you turn around to look at him. You know that he wouldn’t show any type of reaction over this thing, especially if the Queen is watching, but you wanted to show him that you were thinking of him. You smiled, raising your eyebrows to really show how beautiful you thought the gown was, you’ll get to talk about it with him later. This is the second time Koska see’s something like this between the two of you, and she first looks at you, and the knight, raising a sharp eyebrow.

You place your hand over the fabric, running your palm over it. You did nothing to deserve this, but you were honored that it’s yours. “It’s like a faerie’s dress.” You sigh. “It’s wonderful, when can I thank her Radiance?”

“She’s out and about, she usually meditates in the gardens on sunny days, I can retrieve her, if you’d like.” Koska speaks up.

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll find her eventually.” You smile.

“Interesting that you brought up the fae…” The Queen brings up, “Allow me to ask, it is your engagement ball, is there anything specific you would like to have incorporated?” A few days ago, you would have had no answer, because a few days ago there was nothing about Mandalore worth it to you. However, things have changed. You’ve spent sleepless nights thinking about the boy in the beskar armor, and you would give anything to dance with him at that ball. You knew damn well that if you asked nicely, and maybe gave him head in return, he would do almost anything you asked. He would happily dance with you alone in the room after the events of the night, although you weren’t even sure if he knew how to dance. You did want to waltz with him, but not in that way.

So, last night you stayed up late, laying on your back with the balcony doors just cracked open to let in the smell fo fresh rain and a cool breeze into the hot room, thinking about him. You especially thought about the soft skin of his thighs and the way he shuddered when you raked your fingernails down his abdomen. But you also thought about how you could dance with him at the ball, where everyone could see. You knew that you would be dancing with far more people than Korkie, it would be many people’s last (and only) chance to dance with you before you’re married, and so you’re expected to give everyone the opportunity and attention they desired. It wasn’t your favorite thing you’d have to do, especially considering you would be dancing with a number of complete strangers and total creeps of Viziers, Grand Dukes and old viscounts who would probably whisper dirty things in your ear. And that is part of why you wanted this one thing for yourself so badly.

Dancing with a mysterious stranger wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted to share your affection towards him, and you especially wanted him to see you in your true element of balls and parties and gowns and tiaras. You knew it was risky, especially considering you can hardly control yourself around him, who knows what the crowd may be whispering as you dreamily look up at him. But after having to move and change your entire life, marry a man you resent in a kingdom that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in, you owe yourself this one thing. Just this one.

However, dancing with a literal knight would be far too suspicious and obnoxious for the biggest event in the western part of the world. And you knew that he would never remove his helmet, even if his life depended on it. It would be no easy feat to convince him to do something like that in such little time, but that’s when you got the best idea to have possibly ever cross your mind.

When you were just a little girl, your nursery caretaker would sit you on her lap when you had droopy, tired eyes, and read you a story. You can’t remember what it was called, it’s been so long since you heard it, but it was your favorite. It was the tale of the masquerade ball where the young peasant girl fell in love with the handsome magician. You were always drawn into it, because you once hoped you would fall in love with a mysterious and handsome man, too.The point of the story was that she never saw his face, as they both had on extravagant swan masks covering their eyes. If everyone had their face covered, it wouldn’t look suspicious if he did, too. You knew it would be a big thing to ask, and he may not even agree to it if the Queen approves of the short-noticed theme, but you wanted to live at least one night as the young peasant girl.

“Yes, actually.” You began to reply, “I would love for my engagement ball to be a masquerade.” You made sure to add in the ‘my’ to reinstate that it is for you. The Queen stopped to consider what you asked, and Koska looked suprised. It’s rare for anyone to ask the Queen for something like that out flat. But, she was the one who brought it up.

The Queen made you wait in suspense for her answer, and every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and wink at the knight to let him know that you asked for him, but even you, the naive princess, knew that you needed to be more careful with sharing your memories with him when others are around. “I suppose we could arrange that.” She thinks out loud, and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. The Queen really only agreed because she knew it would cause more buzz and conversation around her last event as Queen. Even you could see that, but if it meant you would get a chance to share the memory with your guard, it was worth it.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but the ball is this weekend, I fear we will not have enough time to prepare for such a change in plans…” Koska spoke up.

“Well, not if we don’t have everyone in the palace working double time,” Both yours and Koska’s faces dropped, that is not what you wanted at all. “Every servant will be required to make ten masks before the ball on Saturday. Knights are exempt, obviously.” She placed the rose gold dress back in Koska’s arms. You immediately felt guilty.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty, I don’t want everyone to-“

“Oh nonsense,” She interrupted, “I love the masquerade idea, it will be grand. It will be the envy of Coruscant.” Was everything a battle for her? An endless contest of who’s the best between Mandalore and Coruscant? If everyone had extra work to do on top of their usual load, you would feel absolutely terrible, but there would be no changing the Queen’s mind. “As the head of the servants, you will oversee the masks, Lady Reeves.” Your face was in shock, pale and sick. Koska shot you an annoyed glare. You tried to respond with an apologetic smile, but the Queen was speaking up again, pacing as she spoke. “Of course we need the royals to stand out from everyone else, we’ll already have our gowns but the masks will make a difference too…” She thought out loud. “Koska I would like an owl mask as per usual, there will be gems incorporated as well I trust?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” She was not amused with her new task.

“As for our little Princess,” She was referring to you, but you couldn’t even listen out of guilt. Everything you tried in Mandalore somehow backfired on you. “Her dress is lovely, but her mask must also be the most extravagant in the room, after mine, of course. It would also be best if hers and my nephew’s matched, Yes?” Koska nodded, struggling to hold the heavy dress with her small stature. “Lovely, aren’t you just full of surprises, Your Highness?” The Queen smiled at you, and you forced a polite smile. “Now, excuse me, I have a designer to meet with to get as many feathers and adornments for masks as possible.” The redhead hastily exits the room, her high guard following her, leaving just you and Koska with your knight.

“What the fuck was that about?” Koska asked afterwards.

“I didn’t mean for any of the extra work to happen, I swear.” You defensively respond.

“You just love giving me a hard time, don’t you?” She asks.

“No- that not at all what-“

“Let her be, Koska.” Your knight steps into the conversation.

“Ugh you knights are so frustrating sometimes.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, what is going on with you two?” She asks and your heart drops to your ass. Was it that obvious there was something more there? Your knight tensed up, too. “Yeah, I can see exactly what’s going on here. Would either of you like to explain?” She asks.

The two of you stood awkwardly like children who got caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. You wondered how you were going to get out of this one. Your entire world could come crashing down right now if you didn’t play this out correctly, and a thousand outcomes of this situation simultaneously played out in your head. Would she rat you out? Would it lead to your knights expulsion? Or would she keep it to herself? She seemed to have a history with your knight, although you didn’t know what that might be. Maybe she would be on your side, but you highly doubted it.

You blame yourself for all of this. You should have put a stop to all of this long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He has you tied around your finger, and you like it. You wondered what was going on through his mind, was he as nervous as you? He had to be, if not more worried about what would happen. Someone knowing about your secret relationship would only lead to you getting a tap on your knuckles and then they would try to hide it from society to keep your reputation clean, but it would be the end of his career and safety for him. You were selfish for this, and you knew it.

“What?” Is all your stupid mouth says. As if you hadn’t just had the most sporadic and stressful thought process of your entire life. After all that, the only thing you were able to come up with was “what?”. You thought your body might be shaking, but you weren’t totally sure. You wanted to look at the knight by your side, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Koska must have thought the same thing as you because after you just responded with an arrogant rhetorical question, her eyebrows raised like a mother angry with her teenage son. She scoffs, and walks to the other side of the parlor to place the gown down on a sofa. When her back was turned to you, you were somehow able to muster up the courage to look at the beskar-clad figure to your left. He didn’t look any different than, well, ever. Tall and broad and stoically looking ahead as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But you knew better. He had to have had a similar thought process to your own. He never turned to look back at you, and that’s when the guilt really set in. This could have been prevented. It should have been prevented. You fiddle with your sleeve.

Koska comes back too soon, her arms folded over her chest and the same unamused look on her stupidly perfect face. “So, one of you better start talking now, or else I’m going to get impatient and go catch up with the Queen to do your chore.” She nods to you. Why was she doing this? What did she gain out of knowing any of this? It could be to protect Korkie, although you found that seriously hard to believe. From what you can tell, Koska could care less about the Mandalorian Prince.

You sigh out of embarrassment mostly, but know that you are the one who needs to speak up. This was your mistake, and so it was your responsibility to fix it. “This is all my fault,” You have to clear your throat after beginning because of how uncomfortably your words sit in your throat. “I take full responsibility for everything. Don’t blame him for anything.” You nod. He turns his head to look at you after you say this, and you wanted nothing more than to look back at him, but Koska had your gaze trapped.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘everything’ and ‘anything’?” The lady-in-waiting asks.

You sigh again, knowing this was going to be hard to say. “I...allowed myself to be…” You carefully considered your word choice, “i-infatuated with the wrong man.” You finally get out. That was the first time you had said it in front of him, and only the second time you had said it outloud ever, the first being to the Elven Queen last week. “I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand, but I fell under the spell of this Knight, and I don’t even know his name. I’ve never seen his face. In many ways, he’s a complete stranger to me.” You debated saying the next thing, but it just kind of spilled out, ‘A stranger who’s plagued my thoughts and actions since the day I got here.” It was hard for you to say, but there was something so liberating about saying it.

He never took his eyes off of you the entire time you spoke, but this time you were able to look back at him. Your eyes first looking down at the floor guiltily, and then they slowly make their way up his armor and to the visor on his helmet. You just looked there for a little bit while Koska processed what you were saying. You smiled genuinely at the knight, desperately trying to show him that everything you just said was true. For a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to say anything at all, and the room fell silent.

“Well…” She begins, you can’t hear any disappointment in her tone yet, “You’re terrible at hiding it.” She sighs. Of all the things she could have said, you did not expect that.

“What?” You say like an absolute idiot for the second time. You look back at the woman.

“Look, I’ve known him for a long time.” She shakily breathes, looking at him, “We’ve actually been through a lot together.” He was still looking at you, “And honestly, Neither of us were ever cut out for the Royal life we’ve been living for a while now.” You wondered what she meant by that. “And to be frank, I could care less about your personal life.” She said to you about you, “But since he’s a friend, and you really don’t mean very much to me, no offense,”

“None taken.”

“I suppose I’ll just keep it to myself-“

The relief that overcame your body was unmatched. You can’t stop the grin that goes from ear to ear or the sigh of relief that danced on your lips and out of your lungs. You look over at him, who still hasn’t looked away from your face, but he sighs of relief, too. You see it in the way his armor shifts.

“-Under one condition.”

“Okay…”

“You have to start hiding it better, no more over the shoulder glances. Okay? This is me looking out for him.” She gestures to him with a nod. Was she really going to do this for you?

“No more glances, got it.” You repeat.

“There’s no telling what might happen to him if the wrong person finds out.” She clears her throat, and that statement scares you. You try not to let it take up too much of your thought. “And you have to act like nothing is different. You’re still engaged to the Prince and you’re still the future Queen-consort. I don’t give a damn about what happens behind closed doors, but when others are around you have to behave yourselves. This is me looking out for my kingdom, understood?”

“Understood.” You nod back, although you weren’t the biggest fan of that condition, you knew that was the price you had to pay to get what you wanted… well at least what you think you wanted. “You’re not going to tell the Queen?”

“If you do those things, she won’t hear a word about it.” Koska shrugs.

“And what about Korkie?”

“Stars, I cannot stand that boy. I don’t even talk to him.” She rolls her eyes and you chuckle. You’re happy you aren’t the only one who feels that way about the prince. “But I’m not going to cover or lie for you two, I’m not going to help you hide it or anything. Alright?”

“Of course.” You reply.

“Great. I have over five-hundered masks to make by Saturday, so I’ll be leaving now.” She finished and on her way out, she pushes the knight on the shoulder playfully.

The door closes.

“Stars.” You clear your throat and turn to look at him, before you can say anything, though, he’s picking you up by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of weightless flour, and carrying you over to the second sofa that isn’t taken up by a ridiculously large dress. You giggle when he does, blushing at his enthusiasm. You’re placed on your back and he kneels between your legs.

“You’re excited.” You chuckle and he hums in response. There isn’t very much room on the sofa but he makes his place. He then grabs the hem of your dress, pulling it up over first your thighs, then up past your hips, over the corset and up to your face. He covers your eyes with the skirt and it hides the cheesiest smile on your face. light still poured in from the fabric, but you weren’t able to see anything.

You then heard the sound of metal being placed on the floor next to you, and to your pleasant surprise, his lips and pressed tightly to yours through the fabric. The kiss obviously doesn’t make any contact, but you’ve learned that with the knight, it’s the thought that always counts. You’re smiling into the kiss like a dork, and you shudder when you feel his bare hands against your bare thighs. He pulls your legs open, and then pulls away from your separated kiss.

Your first moan comes when you feel his lips against your soft thighs. He licks up and down your right thigh first, his fingertips strong and faithful against the outer part of your legs. Your breathing hitches, and you hum with pleasure when he moves to your left thigh, taking the same amount of time to kiss, nibble and suck on your pillowy skin.

Then, before you can think any more about the heat and want in between your legs, he’s pulling down your petticoat painfully slow. You bite your lip, you knew where he was headed with this, and you were more than happy to welcome it. His index and middle finger run soft lines around your cunt, massaging the swollen and wet skin around your opening that only got wetter. Your clit begged for attention, but your arms were trapped under the position of the dress skirt, and you didn’t want to risk adjusting it in a way that would make him stop. You would have to patiently wait as he teased and prodded your lips, his free hand rubbing your thigh and occasionally making its way to firmly squeeze your ass cheek. Your breathing was needy and short as he took his time to get to know your core with the tips of his fingers, which were now wet and slick and making the friction smoother.

He then gently places a light kiss on your clit. It’s so soft that you’re only able to feel it because of how sensitive and hungry you are for that type of contact. You slightly finch when his lips touch the nerve, and you’re able to feel him smile against your skin. What you would give to see his face right now…. Then, before you can think any more, he’s licking a flat stripe up from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit where he flicks three times with the tip of his tongue. You gasp at the sensation, and try to suppress a moan. He then take his time to lick each separate lip of your sex, avoiding your actual opening but teasing in such an addictive way that you were willing to be patient for him.

The knight then finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, pulsing with his lips and flicking back and forth quickly with the tip of his tongue. You do moan this time, a broken cry falling off of your needy lips. It was a euphoric feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you loved every moment of it. His arms wrap around your upper thighs, holding you in place around his head as he moves down to lap at your pussy lips. He moans at the taste of you, diving his tongue into your folds and prodding your sensitive clit with his nose.

You whine short and quietly as he does, biting your lip and bucking your hips every now and then as he took care of your sex. He must have gone down on you for close to ten minutes straight, never coming up for fresh air and never stopping the steady pace he had. You aren’t sure how you didn’t cum immediately at the feeling of his plump lips against your clit, but you also aren’t sure how you didn’t blackout from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. It was addictive, and it only got better after he pulled away to spit on your cunt. He spits onto your folds and then brings his fingers up again to start fingering you, sliding in his pointer finger with no resistance and slowly pumping it in and out. His mouth finds its way back to your slit, sucking on it as he fingers you. The sound was filthy, it filled the parlor with wet, obscene noises accompanied by breathy moans and gentle hums. Every time he hummed against your clit, your back arched from the added pleasure. The vibrating of it was pure euphoric, and you knew you were a sopping mess in between your thighs.

His chin was wet from spit and arousal and for one quick moment he pulled his wet mouth away from your core to kiss and rub the juices of your cunt on your thighs. He nibbles a few times on either thigh, marking each with a litter of purple and red hickeys. Before adding a second finger, he pulls his hand out to gently and playfully slap your cunt. He uses his wet hand to tap your core five or six times, each tap getting harder. You moan out at the feeling, and squeeze your legs together against the feeling in a horny attempt to get more pleasure from the moment.

“Huh, would you look at that?” He asks, his voice low and hungry and full of lust. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and the indulgence of the oral sex cause you to nearly forget how much you loved his rough voice. “Do you like it when I slap your cunt?” You whine in response. “With your words, Princess.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whine like a bitch. He chuckles and slaps it again, harder this time. You shudder at the feeling and feel your climax coming on. You want to delay it for as long as possible, but your thighs start to shake when he puts his mouth back in you and pushed both his index and middle finger into your opening, pumping and curling and twisting his wrist to make the most wonderful combination of finger-fucking you could of have imagined.

“I’m gonna cum.” You barely get out before your spine is burning and your stomach is flexing as you cum hard and long against his tongue and on his fingers. You cry out in broken, heavenly bliss, and look for something to grasp onto as you hit your high, but you can’t find anything, which leads to your sporadic back arches. You’re panting, and he doesn’t stop kissing against your core while you cum on his tongue. You bite your lip and swear you might make it bleed a little. His grip on your thighs tightens while he pulls you against his mouth, preventing you from pulling away from the addictive exhilaration that is his kiss.

He licks you through the entire orgasm, and then some after. You think you’re being over-stimulated but you never have been before, so you aren’t really sure. Just when you think he’s going to stop, he doesn’t and he just takes his sweet old time lapping against your core and slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You sharply breath in, your chest heaving against the dress and you desperately want to pull your dress down to see him and breath freshly again. The way he eats you out is so methodical, like he’s done it a thousand times (which wouldn’t necessarily surprise you), like it’s the only thing he’s ever eaten or the sweetest honey to ever grace his lips.

It begins to turn you on again, the pleasure shooting into your spine and down your littered thighs and melting against your clit. You can feel the gentle rub of his fingers against your thighs, stroking your skin as he takes you in. It’s heavenly and is the only thing you can think about. Your thoughts go numb and the only important thing in the entire world is the curly-haired boy at your expense.

You mutter and whisper swears, dirty words that aren’t meant to come out of a princess’ mouth but you can’t help it when you’re seeing white hot behind your eyes. He groans a few times too before his fingers speed back up to the pace they were at before you came the first time. Your dainty hands stroke lightly on your collar-bones as the pleasure fills your soul, licking your lips and trying to hold on for as long as possible before you cum again but you can already feel your second orgasm coming on. He uses a third finger to outline your lips, coating the tip in your slick and then slowly inserting the third and final finger into your cunt, helping you chase that final hit of release. The stretch is amazing, and you were surprised you were able to take it so well. This is when you realized that he’s been training you for something much bigger. The first time he fingered you wasn’t even any penetration, the second time was two fingers, just enough to stretch you that it hurt the right amount, and now this time, three fingers that felt amazing. You remembered the size of his cock, you knew it would be a challenge to take, but he was making sure you would be able to handle it and enjoy it as much as he will.

His focus goes from licking your clit to the fingers inside. He twists his wrist to make the curl and stretch your entrance. He collects the wetness and lets it make the glide and pump smoother. You’re so drenched and needy that the fluid is running out past his fingers and dripping onto the sofa cushion, staining it with your lust. He nips so slightly at your clit and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down. The orgasm is actually mind-numbing this time, and all you can do is moan and sob and claw at your own skin. Your scratch into your shoulders and collar-bone and it’s deliciously painful. Your thighs clamp against his head and he continues to finger you long and hard through the climax, cleaning your folds up as you cum against his tongue and fingers. You’re finally able to catch your breath, painting with droopy, lustful eyes but feeling completely fulfilled. He cleans up all the juices around your entrance, collecting the cum on his tongue and happily swallowing it down like it’s his last meal. You aren’t able to see it, but he then puts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the three that were knuckle-deep into your cunt. He groans at the taste, and wipes his mouth before planting one last, gentle kiss to the soft, angelic skin of the mound between your legs. You're so sensitive that the light kiss makes you flinch, and he chuckles at the involuntary reaction.

He puts his helmet back on and then pulls your dress skirt down to see your face. You’re surprised by the light initially, and you blink a few times to adjust to it. Your lungs fill with crisp air and you look at your favorite sight: the helm of the knight you think you’re falling in love with. You can’t stop the smile on your face. He chuckles and then readjusts your dress to cover you up better. He takes such good care of you. You see him freeze when he sees the scratch marks on your skin, and his bare hand softly runs over the red lines, outlining the marks. You blush at him, looking up at his expressionless face with a puppy-love look.

“Everytime I think it can’t get any better, you prove me wrong.” You sigh. Every orgasm has been better than the last.

“Just you wait.” You hear the smirk under the helmet and it causes butterflies to flutter in your tummy. You sigh, still catching your breath and you just take him in, looking up at how he’s propped up above you. He has hands on either side of your head and he’s just a brudding force of metal and sex and good kissing and caring about things that you didn’t even know you needed someone to care about. You probably look like a dork just smiling up at him but you don’t even care and now your hands are free to wrap around his neck and you just wish you could see his face and kiss it all over right now.

Your fingers lock behind his neck and the positioning of his armor and the way his head is bent makes it so you can just barely feel the skin of his neck. You move your index fingers up to look for the curls at the nape of his neck. You think you could sing out when you found the prize: some strands of dark, brown, thick hair hidden under the helmet. You twirl them around your fingers and that action alone is worth a million kisses. The feeling in your heart is second to none and you wished you could stay in this still moment forever.

“Did you mean what you said?” He speaks up in reference to what you told Koska about him.

“Every word of it.” You state, genuinely meaning it as you said it. He did respond but something told you he was smiling under all that armor. He sighs, and then lets his arms go weak so he’s falling onto you. You groan at the surprise and the sheer weight of both his broad body and the heavy armor on top. The air is pushed out of your lungs but at least he’s pressed into you, your hands still toying with his curly hair. You can hear him chuckle, and you wanted to freeze time.

“Someone’s gonna see us if we stay like this.” He mutters as you tilt your head to have it rest on top of his helmet.

“Then let them.”

He doesn’t reply to what you say, and you debate if it was even the right thing to say. When you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, it’s hard to grasp the concept that someone may not want the same thing. You’re selfish for not caring about his safety and status in these types of situations. He grunts as he pushes himself back up and stands again, leaving only you on the sofa.

“How’s the arm?”

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes, you don’t want everyone to worry so much anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You reply more forcefully this time, sitting up on the couch.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sigh, and consider your next words, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.” You sit with your palms flat against the cushion, making aware of the wet spot on the fabric and smirking fondly at it.

“Anything, your Highness.” He nods.

“Well… I wondered if maybe I could teach you how to dance?” You were nervous about what his response may be.

“Oh Stars-“ He chuckles.

“What!?”

“I had a feeling that masquerade might have something to do with me.” He puts his hands on his hips like he’s scolding you but there’s a guilty part of you that you like about it.

“Well it isn’t just about you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no.” He already knew you so well. He chuckles at your response. “So… what’s your answer?”

“Dancing isn't my style…”

“I don’t believe that.” You tilt your head. “Come on, it’s super easy and it would mean a lot to me.” You try convincing. He sighs and considers what you’re offering. “I can give you something in return…” You bite your lip, teasing. He chuckles just once.

“Alright-”

“What!? Really??” You stand up from excitement, you weren’t really expecting him to agree.

“But, only if you let me teach you something in return.” You nod in agreement, your hands coming to fold in your lap. You were expecting him to refer to something sexual, but his words prove you wrong, “I wanna teach you how to fight.”

“What?” Why would you ever need that?” It’s rare for royals to learn such a skill, especially princesses. You understood that it would be valuable, but you weren’t completely sure if you were up to the task.

“Well more than anything, I want to teach you how to defend yourself. So something like Keldabe doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay…” You were tentative to agree.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, “If it means I get to dance with you at the ball, I would be more than happy to learn.”

“Great. Let’s start then.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out for you to take.

“What?” You place your palm in his and he pulls you up off the couch, “right now?”

“Yes, c’mere.” You were nervous and honestly your legs were still weak from cumming twice, but you follow him as he begins to talk. “I’ll just teach you a few things and then you can teach me how to dance I guess.”

“Stop being a pill.” You tease.

“Only if you stop, too.” He teases right back at you which leads to a scoff from your lips. He ignores you. “When you're defending yourself, you always wanna protect your face, okay?”

“Protect my face, got it.” You repeat. He holds his arms up in front of his helmet, his hands fisted.

“Mimic my pose.” You roll your eyes but mirror him, holding your arms to guard your face. “See, is that so hard?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He sarcastically replies. “You can’t do much if you can’t see, so that’s why you gotta protect your face. If you wore a helmet you wouldn’t need to do this.”

“But I would always be wearing a helmet…”

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugs.

“Something tells me that you don’t believe that.” You drop your arms from your face to say that, which was obviously a mistake, because instead of responding to your claim (which was probably right), he's jabbing his arm out towards your face. He’s not close enough to hit you but the quick and unexpected action is enough to startle you back. You lose your balance and fall down on the ground, wincing when you hit the ground and regretting agreeing to this. Your arms wrap into a frustrated position and you frown up at him. You look up at him surprised and a little pissed, and he just starts laughing. “What was that?”

“You let your guard down.” He says between laughs. He does hold his hand out for you to help you back up, and you take it to your own dismay. He hoists you up quickly, and you have to re-establish your balance.

“You are impossible.” You put your arms back over your face, ready to try again.

“You like it.”

“Are you gonna teach me or not?” He wasn't wrong but you figured you’d have to try and beat him at his own game.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Just go.” You roll your eyes again.

“This will also protect your ribs. Can’t do much if the wind is knocked out of you, either.” He explains. “You also want to stand wide, it’ll help you keep your balance.” He kicks your feet out to be shoulder width which breaks every rule in the book of princess manners. “And prevent… falling on the floor.”

“This isn’t exactly easy to do in a corset, you know.” You argue.

“And dancing won’t be easy in armor but here we are.” He shrugs, and you suppose he’s right. Neither of you are cut out for the tasks at hand. “When fighting someone without armor, you’re gonna want to go for their face, their eyes are vulnerable and you can do real damage on their nose.”

“Okay….” You try to remember what he was saying, making a mental note for any future situations, although you’re still skeptical. “And what about someone with armor on?” You ask, trying not to show the smirk on your face.

“Well the guy in Keldabe did everything right, he found where the weak points of my armor was and attacked them-“

“So here?” You ask before reeling back your arm and swinging it as hard as you can into his shoulder where there was only chain mail. Your fist crashes into the metal, and you immediately regret it. “Shit!” You pull your hand back and look at your bright red knuckles, shaking your hand a few times as you try to brush the shock away.

“...Yeah, right there.” On the bright side, he seemed to be surprised by it enough that he made a little groan from the contact that turned you on way more than it should have. “But now you fucked up your hand.”

“You think?” You place the angry knuckles at your mouth, trying not to be too upset about the pain shooting through your hand.

“Punching chainmail is always gonna hurt, especially if you do it wrong… like that.”

“So how do I do it right!?” You’re determined now. No one has ever put you in your place, you’ve always gotten what you wanted, and you wanted to prove to him that you could do it.

“Why are you so eager to inflict pain on me?” He asks, you can hear the teasing in his tone but you can’t blame him for feeling that way. Perhaps you did come off a little anxious.

“I don’t know… I guess I just want to prove something to you.” You sigh, still pissed off by the pain in your hand. You’re so distracted by it that you hardly notice him walking towards you. His gentle and soft bare hands take your fist away from your mouth. You’re tentative at first, but let him take it in his hand, cupping it in between his and looking down at your red skin. You frown mostly out of frustration, but the pain is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel pain.

Before you can blink, he pulls his top hand away and takes it to lift up his helmet just above his lips. The angle makes it so you can’t see any of his face but you understand. He bends down and kisses your knuckles in the same fashion one would when greeting you, but this was so much more intimate. His lips were like satin against your skin and the butterflies in your stomach fly right back. The physical pain didn’t go away, but the anger around it did. Your heart softened and wished he would kiss your lips but he’s already pulling the beskar back over his jaw. You sigh from the gesture, he was so romantic and you don’t even think he’s trying to be. He’s just trying to be kind and patient with you and it’s doing something to your heart that you don’t know if you can handle anymore.

“So… how do you waltz?” He asks, his hand still holding onto yours. You smile and sheepishly look down at your feet. You were unsure of how to begin, but were happy he was willing to learn.

“Okay.” You smile, “Well, you first need to loosen up. Stop being so stiff.” He tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language. “Like this.” You press your hands down on his shoulder pauldrons, he tries to rest them but fails and you chuckle just a little. “Roll them back.” You explain and do it yourself, he attempts to follow, and actually is able to relax a little bit more this time. Knights are always so stiff, you think it will be good for him to relax every now and then. “Good, now this hand goes here…” You lift his right hand to rest on your waist and he immediately settles into it, already feeling more comfortable now that he is holding you. You place your left hand on his shoulder, pulling your bodies a little closer together. He wanted your torsos to be flush against one another, “No, we have to keep our distance so we have room to do the steps.” You explain.

“Well that’s no fun.” He sighs. You blush and giggle.

“If we get this done I promise you can hold me as long as you want.” You tilt your head trying to make a fair compromise.

“Fine.” He’ll take it.

“Great, now we hold these hands.” You take his left hand and hold it into yours. “That’s the basic position, I learned it as home position, got it?”

“Home position…?” He repeats.

“Mhm.” You nod, your faces are close and you would give anything to feel his breath against yours. “It’s important that we sort of… ‘glide’ like we bounce as we dance, it will make it prettier.” He was convinced you were always pretty no matter what you tried or did, but we guessed he would comply this time. Your voice goes quiet and soft, the mood immediately changing from teasing to harmonious. “And your feet… okay this is sort of complicated but your left foot will go forward as my right goes back-“ You keep looking down at the floor as you try to explain the steps but his gaze is on your face, hardly listening to what you're saying and only being engulfed in your face and the way you talked about doing something you loved. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it.

You must have been talking for a while without really listening to yourself because he was slowly pulling you into his torso and closing the space without you really noticing that you were inches closer than you were before. “-and then your left foot will slide to meet your right foot-“ the last word fades out as you slowly look back up to his face which was now up close to yours, your bodies pressed together and both of his hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back. Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe as you look up at him and it just felt… right.

Your hands lift from his pauldron to his helmet and you want to take it off so badly. You knew it was too fast still, and he would remove his helmet for you when he felt like he could. At least that’s what you hoped for. It should be his decision, no one else’s. But your hands are grazing the bottom of the beskar and everything feels so right. He’s so still and his breath is quiet and for just a moment you think he might let you and then-

The door knob is turning slowly and both of you are splitting away all too fast, trying to make enough space between the two of you so it didn’t look suspicious. You both scramble, trying to put yourselves back together. The still and perfect moment was entirely gone when Prince Korkie opened up the door into the parlor. You tried not to look too shocked when his stupid perfect hair and young face looked on you. The knight held his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were bare and side-eyed the gloves on the sofa that laid by the wet stain on the cushion. He silently prayed that the Prince wouldn’t notice them.

“Ah, princess I was wondering where you were.” He looked between the two of you. He didn’t seem too suspicious, thank the stars.

“Korkie! What are you doing?” You awkwardly laugh. Your hands fold at waist level, and you fix your posture.

“Did… I walk in on something?” He asks and your whole body goes numb. You swallow and try not to pass out. The truth is yes, he did walk in on something very important to you, but here we are.

“Oh! No, we were just…” You search around the room looking for something to take the attention away from you and the knight, “Admiring the beautiful dress the Elves gave me!” You walk to the heavy, iridescent gown on the clean sofa, picking it up to show him. You smile desperately, hoping that would be enough.

“Ah yes! It is beautiful, isn’t it?” He nods, smiling. You sigh of relief when he falls for the bait. You set the dress back down.

“Can I do anything for you?” You ask,a king sure there was no attention on the knight being you.

“I… just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. My aunt informed me of the changes to the Ball. What a wonderful idea!”

“Why thank you.” You smile, taking a few steps towards him in a hopeless attempt to not seem so suspicious.

“Yes! I had just received the RSVPS from a number of the guests. Your parents, the twins of Naboo, the senator of Alderaan and Princess of Chandrila and I’m pleased to say that we’ve found no suspicion of any attack from Coruscant!” Stars, he talks a lot. You aren’t sure how he can have any more breath to talk. You were starting to decide that you liked the boys who were more reserved.

Well… one boy.

“Oh… Um, of course. That’s great news.” You nod and finish your walk towards him, suddenly hyper-aware of the fading scratches on your collar bone.

“Come with me, we should review the letters together.” You look back at the knight apologetically before walking into the hallway with the Prince. This isn’t exactly how you hoped your afternoon would go...

taglist: @waatermelon-sugaar @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @softly-sad @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel l @bewitchedbodyandsol @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian

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Part ten

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cassyapper · 3 years ago

Note

Just finished wwm/ta, and I adore how you write kakyoin. He is such a rage-filled mess of a weird man, which is so refreshing since most fanworks seem to declaw him so to speak. Do you have any tips on writing him? Both in general and maybe also what you think he'd be like as an antagonist? I have an idea for au where he's like a slightly more threatening Team Rocket who reluctantly gets attached to everyone over the course of multiple attempts to defeat them, but idk if that fits his character.

I'M SO SORRY I'M RESPONDING TO THIS A FEW DAYS AFTER U SENT IT i've just been exhaustingly busy but i'm here now

first things first, thank you so so much dude i'm going to cry tears of gratitude....im so so glad ppl have been liking my take on part 4 kakyoin so far and im so excited to continue to share how i think he will evolve as the story continues/as we see flashbacks that explain how he got to where he is in the first place...basically AH thank u so much anonymous it means the world to me <3 i like to inflate my ego by thinking i know kakyoin p well so im glad to hear u say u like how i keep him scathing (":

also i think ur idea of antag-become-awkward-bestie kakyoin is BRILLIANT i love love love it please send me a link when u write it!!!

as for writing him in general there r a couple things i keep in mind: - kakyoin has a sense of humor. half the things he does he does cause he thinks the reactions he'll get are funny (like im pretty sure the cherry thing was not something he normally does he just did it cause jotaro's disgust was hilarious to him) - kakyoin is made up of what i call complementary contradictions. he's polite but also an asshole. he's considerate but also cruel. he's stiff but also immature (like when he laughed at polnareff's underwear joke). few things are constant about him cause he varies his outward expression depending on who he's talking to and the circumstances (though an example of some of his constants is his intelligence and his vanity and his passion). because of this you can have a lot of fun with him; he doesn't all react the same way to things that in theory are similar! he's a slippery eel kinda guy - at his core kakyoin is desperate to prove himself mostly to himself. he projects his own insecurities onto other ppl and i dont think he realizes it, which is why he's smart mouthed and bitchy about ppl being too coddling toward him; he's taking it as underestimation and not as a sign of care. he refuses to give benefit of the doubt cause he's an asshole and also cause this. at the same time tho he does deserpately want someone to care about him (this is what the holly line meant it wasnt a fucking come on toward holly it was about how she gave affection in a way he could accept while still keeping his pride okay fuck off). so keep this in mind when writing him; it's one of his main motivators even though he doesn't really realize it

as for antagonist kakyoin, i would keep the above in mind as well as: - kakyoin loves playing with his food so to speak. every time kakyoin was in a fight in sdc, he mocked his opponent and teased them and just completely tore them down verbally. loves to threaten awful things with a smile <3 - kakyoin does not follow laws or a leader he follows his moral code first and foremost. his principles are incredibly important to him and they're what prompt him to go on the egypt journey in the first place, so esp when dealing with a switching of sides, keep this in mind! kakyoin would have some introspection about it i think

thank u once again dude it means a lot <3 i know this got wordy but i hope it helps!

#cass cries #jjba #wwm/ta #i guess lololol

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kim-seungmine · 4 years ago

Text

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation? I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!”

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

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vidavalor · 3 years ago

Text

A ‘why Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts’ analysis...

This turned into a whole thing about not just the texts but the evolution of SamBucky in TFATWS so yeah, make a hot drink and get cozy if you want to read this as it’s a little on the wordy side...

So, what we know is that Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts ahead of TFATWS but *before* Sam decided to retire the shield. I’ve seen speculation on what event could have caused this and I think the fact that we aren’t entirely told it in so many words, plus some other clues from the show might lead us to one conclusion. Obviously, this is just what I see here and there are other ways to interpret it but some thoughts for anyone who feels like reading them... :)

The answer to why Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts is actually the shield, just not in the way that we think it is. Go back to Endgame and the scenes between Sam and Bucky. The amount of *feeling* there is already present and plentiful-- Bucky looks at Sam with naked love, right at him, and Sam touches Bucky so tenderly that it’s a bit heartbreaking. That little thumb swish on his shoulder at the funeral? That’s familiar and sweet and comes with intimacy born of the knowledge that Bucky is okay with him in his space. Between Sam knowing he has permission that others really don’t to touch Bucky (also add in how he’s a little jealous when Steve hugs Bucky) and between Bucky not hiding how he feels when he looks at Sam, we could speculate that there’s at least a working understanding between them happening by Endgame that they have feelings for one another. Now, hop back in time a little to see maybe what kind of understanding or what level of it they could potentially be at by Endgame...

If you go along with the idea that Sam found Bucky after The Winter Soldier and kept that a secret while he helped him to hide and that they built their whole banter-y rapport beginning then, then you also have to think that this is kind of a real slow burn romance happening. Sam is a sensitive, (semi-secretly) introverted guy who has been mourning the loss of a man who meant the world to him for years, mostly alone, atop trying to deal with his own trauma from witnessing that violent death and everything else he saw at war. He doesn’t open up easily and comes from a place of needing to seem in control of his emotions, even if he’s the first person to be there for someone else when they are struggling and is highly empathetic. Meanwhile, Bucky?

Bucky’s a mess. His memories are coming back in fragments. He’s plagued by nightmares and PTSD from the decades he’s spent as an assassin and is still on the earlier end of his healing process. Not to mention that he can’t have much in the way of normalcy because he’s on the run and in hiding. Sam is a decent man who is also experienced, both personally and professionally, when it comes to trauma recovery and he is the last man on earth who would try to take advantage of Bucky so this relationship is a friendship at the early stages. It’s one that’s complicated by their mutual attraction that won’t stop growing but they aren’t really discussing it. They’re getting to know one another and discovering that they actually like one another, as much as they try to hide it (and joke that they don’t at all.) The mutual respect grows.

This all continues until the plot results in Bucky not having to hide anymore and being able to get some help in gaining an edge over the Winter Soldier in Wakanda. This is especially true for Bucky because he might have been wildly attracted to Sam before this-- and a frustrating kind of attracted, a not-wanting-casual kind of attracted-- but he didn’t have any real hope in even thinking there could be a chance at this until Wakanda. He’d been afraid of not having enough control over his mind and somehow hurting Sam, even if he didn’t mean to. He’d been on the run, so not really a great life to offer the man you want to be with. By the time he gets to Wakanda, though, Bucky’s cautiously optimistic that even though everything always ends with a fight that maybe he could have some good things before the last one comes for him. Steve and Sam think they can get him a pardon and the Wakandans think they can help rid of him of being controlled by the trigger words and all of that does happen over the next few months for Bucky. For the first time in decades, he’s more fully his own person and can trust himself a bit more. He has gained more headspace and freedom and options and some calm.

Meanwhile, Sam? The 5-6 months when Bucky was in cryofreeze in Wakanda while Shuri figured out how to help him? He doesn’t want to go there when it comes to how much he missed Bucky. He and Steve are on the run but T’Challa is an ally so they can get into Wakanda. Sam comes to visit Bucky and is overwhelmed by how grateful he is that the deprogramming worked and Bucky is finding some peace. He watches him smile and tend goats and farm and play games with the local kids when he visits and it’s odd, in a way-- kind of like their lives have flipped around. Bucky’s the one who has a place that grounds him and Sam’s the one on the run. But more unmooring for both of them now is that there isn’t the excuse of staying away from someone who might be too in the throes of mental health problems to adequately consent because Bucky is in a place where his personal agency keeps growing and he’s more edging away from victim and into survivor mode. He’s not “fine” but no one ever is, including Sam-- but the idea of the two of them is no longer as prohibitive as it was when they first met. Sam, for his part, is healing more over Riley through his developing relationship with Bucky than he wants to admit, even if it’s obviously still traumatic and painful. They’re good for one another and grow more affectionate around the snarky banter, becoming more comfortable with letting how they feel show more.

They might get to a point of admitting that there is something between them and wanting to try for more but they’re like really, really cute about it in that they both keep trying to give one another almost too much space. Bucky knows that Sam has been through a lot and lost someone. He understands that it’s hard for him to trust and that he’s not great with casual and that, for reasons Bucky barely agrees with or understands, Sam sees him as someone he’d like to try being not casual with. Sam knows that Bucky has been through decades of trauma and that there is a really wide gap for trauma survivors between having sexual desire for someone and really feeling comfortable with the idea of having sex, let alone actually attempting that. He’s fine with going slow. Their touchiness with one another is an affirmation of all of this-- a way of saying that they’re there for each other without pressuring the other for more than they feel ready for but, at the same time, saying that they are very interested. As a result, they kind of run on this for awhile and probably don’t get much further than that because then a series of things start to get in the way of this potential romance on the cusp of these poor bastards finally getting to shag...

The first is that they reunite with Steve in Wakanda and fight Thanos for the first time which is all great but then they both get dusted right afterwards and disappear for the next five years. In a way, they’re lucky here with this because they both secretly think it’d be worse if only *one* of them had been Blipped. Would the other have found someone else? Would they still feel the same way after all that time? They’re afraid of those things and it’s another thing that shows them both how much they feel for one another. Instead, they went through the same thing and can go through the aftermath of that together as well. It’s more impactful for Sam because he’s the one with living family. He’s missed some of the early years of his nephews and he’s left Sarah on her own for five years. He leans on Bucky with the guilt of that and the two of them, in general, are starting to make some plans. Plans that involve one another.

For the first time since they met, they’re both in a place to try their hand at a relationship with one another for real. Neither of them are in hiding or on the run. Bucky is pardoned and further along in his healing process. Sam has decided he feels safe enough and ready enough for this. They’re in love and it’s basically understood between them, even if they haven’t really said the words. They’re also in a place that is different from where we see them at the start of TFATWS and that’s because the shield hasn’t entered into their plans yet.

In the post-battle/pre-Old Steve parts of Endgame, Sam and Bucky basically think they’re going to have different options when it comes to what they’re doing all day. They’re thinking of being together in terms of how they’re thinking they’ll both be Steve’s backup team in the field when Steve needs it. There’s vague talk of a garden because Bucky likes working outside and Sam wants Bucky to have all that calm like he had in Wakanda that he can handle. They’re talking about going to Delacroix at some point soon so Sam can visit with the family he’s been missing. Ya know, making plans like a married couple when they’re lucky if they’ve kissed yet, like the shy, snarky boys they are. Then, Steve... sorry but there’s no other way to put it this but Steve kind of f---s it all up.

Steve tells Bucky that he’s planning to go back to the ‘40s to find Peggy and live a normal life. Bucky, drunk on hope of the secret of his own potential normal life for the first time in basically a century, turns down Steve’s offer to join him back in their past. Steve is surprised because Steve hearts the ‘40s and thinks Bucky must want a do-over of his life but Bucky reminds him quietly that he never was much of a man of his time and he always had an eye to the future. He’s interested in the prospect of living a life here in the modern world. Bucky might have also at least hinted at the idea (or just said) that maybe he also wants to stay because his own chance at love is here in 2023, not back in the 1940s. (If Steve hadn’t already picked up on this by this point.) Steve tells Bucky that he has to pass on the shield and he wants to give it to Sam. This is a massive crisis for Bucky because there’s suddenly no way that this can work out, in Bucky’s mind-- no way for him and Sam to work out, that is. So, why then does Bucky support this plan?

Because he believes Sam is the right man to be Captain America. Because he believes in *Sam*, full-stop. He thinks Sam is the best man he’s met and the strongest. He feels this but it’s also reinforced by the fact that Steve-- Bucky’s best friend, who helped him even when he couldn’t help himself, and is a guy so good that Bucky tends to measure all men against him-- also feels this way about Sam. It’s validation for Bucky on his own feelings towards Sam and Bucky is a believer in the greater good-- and one who feels guilty for the pain he’s caused as The Winter Soldier atop that. He’s all in when it comes to supporting the idea that Sam should be the one to pick up the mantle to save the world because the world deserves Sam’s awesome goodness and will be a better place for it. As Bucky will later tell Sam in TFATWS, he and Steve weren’t thinking in terms of how Sam might feel about being handed this responsibility and Bucky acknowledges that they really didn’t think this through from all the angles necessary but it’s obvious their hearts were in a good place with it. Their intention was to honor Sam as a man worthy of something they both see as a mantle that can only be carried by men who are, well, the anti-John Walkers of the universe, and they were trying to tell Sam that they saw him as the best of men, even if they didn’t exactly win at considering it from Sam’s point of view.

What happens to Sam and Bucky’s relationship as a result of Sam getting the shield, though, happens when Bucky considers the fact that Sam having it means that he can’t see a way that their relationship will work. It was one thing when he and Sam were making quiet plans, planning to have some calm and privacy with one another, but now Sam is going to be *Captain America*. He’s going to go from lower level celebrity that a lot of people don’t even know exists to the guy who gets coverage on Good Morning, America. Bucky isn’t completely blind to race issues, either, as he knows that Sam would be the first publicly-known Black Captain America and that would come with a different kind of scrutiny. He knows how private Sam is as a person and how hard this will be, if Sam chooses to take on the shield. Bucky thinks the world might barely-- barely-- be ready to deal with a Black Captain America but he’s not naive to the world of the media. He was by Steve’s side for most of WW2 and saw how the role of Captain America is symbolic as much as mission-based. It’s about the image of the role. Bucky thinks there is no way on earth that Sam can be Captain America *and* in a relationship with Bucky.

The other side of the catch-22 is that if Sam decides *not* to take up the shield-- and he’s hinted to Bucky that he might not, he hasn’t decided yet-- then suddenly, Bucky is wondering if maybe he misjudged Sam. He sees Sam as a man who doesn’t back down from a fight, someone strong who defends others and stands up for what is right and to Bucky, that is what Captain America does and what the allies of Captain America do. He’s no stranger to feeling conflicted over how it is supporting a country that doesn’t value everyone equally-- Bucky is not straight and fought for an Army and a country that would have thrown him in prison for being caught being himself and still believes in trying to make that military and that country live up to the higher ideals it espouses. (Undoubtedly, something Sam values about Bucky is Bucky’s ability to comprehend feeling like an outsider. It’s a major difference from Steve, who might have not felt like he fit the ideal man of the WW2 era but whose response to that was to get himself pumped up with experimental drugs so he *could*... as opposed to Bucky, who for sure has conflict over it, probably a lot more when he was younger, but is someone who sees that the rules of society aren’t always something to try to live up to. Steve was in allies to try to prove he was as tough as guys who fit a type more valued by society. Bucky was in allies to protect Steve from himself sometimes... and other times, to get some in a flagrant f--- you to the same societal values. Sam has empathy for Steve but is partial to Bucky’s attitude towards things.)

The ironic thing about Bucky’s take on the shield and Sam is that for *Sam*, one of the many, many reasons why he was reluctant to take up the shield was probably Bucky himself. Sam obviously has a lot of very valid reasons for not being sure about taking up the shield stemming from being a Black man in America and one who has also seen his share of darkness during war, which are looked at during TFATWS. Additionally, I think there are other reasons he hesitated-- one is that he is a very private person who doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for the more b.s. parts of what the mantle would entail and the other is that he has been steadily falling in love with another person who deserves privacy and freedoms that he’s been denied and he’s not sure he wants to try this thing with Bucky under a spotlight. They weren’t completely at a stage of having actual, involved conversations about this at that point but I definitely think it was (and still is) a concern for Sam.

So, the point is that once Steve gives Sam the shield, Bucky begins to no longer see a path forward for him and Sam. He sees them being friends-- Steve’s mutual friends who look in on one another and who care. If Sam wants him there to back him up when he’s Captain America, Bucky would do that. He wants to keep Sam safe but Sam also has Torres and the Air Force and Bucky really... is not looking forward to the rest of his life going from this hopeful place of potential mutual love and adventures in the modern world to... the rest of his life mooning after another Captain America whose role in the world keeps him from loving him. Bucky, whose experience with close relationships with men and with Captain America is Steve Rogers, thinks that this is going to end just like that and it’s the lesser explored aspect of trauma for him. Everyone is all over his Winter Soldier issues in his world, fewer people notice that he’s also a man with a lot of love to give who has not really ever had someone look at him like they really notice that... ya know, until Sam. Until the man he’s just lost to the shield which, coincidentally, is the closest thing Bucky still has left that feels like family and home. Because yeesh, the world is pretty cruel to this guy sometimes...

So, they’ve split up for a bit under the guise of working out their different things to get their new lives as non-fugitives going. Bucky has to go to government-dated therapy and heads to Brooklyn in an effort to feel like he’s got some ground under his feet by going to a place he once called home. Sam goes to Delacroix to see Sarah and the boys. They’re both floundering around a bit without the other, making progress in some ways and not at all in others. Sam is in love and wants to give Bucky whatever space he needs to feel in control of himself and get the help he needs and he’s happy that he is-- they’re friends before anything else-- so he still messages him but the messages begin to change a little, due to both of them. Maybe calling a lot turns into texts and maybe the texts get a little less frequent as Bucky responds a little less.

All of this is self-fulfilling prophecy: Bucky is trying to push Sam away because he doesn’t think he can have Sam and he’s got enough suffering going on to deal with, as far as he’s concerned. He’s still strong enough that he’s trying to live a life even without Sam or to figure out what that would look like-- what he needs to do to get to that point, even if he’s running in place with it a little. He even tries to get over Sam a bit, dips his toes into the online dating pool. (He never says to Leah that he actually went out on any dates, just that he seemed to get caught up at the browsing stage. He could have but it’s pretty clear that he didn’t get anywhere of any real note with them.) He can’t help but compare all of them to Sam and he really doesn’t want (even if he thinks he might want for a bit) something casual and ultimately meaningless. He’s probably considering the idea of sleeping with someone just to sleep with someone, which is a fairly common thing for a lot of people who have been victims of sexual violence-- and the show basically says this in the Shelby scene-- to try. Ultimately, though, Bucky seems to have bailed at the idea because what he really wants is the trust and intimacy he has built with Sam.

Bucky eventually stops responding to Sam’s texts entirely because he doesn’t know how to handle them. Sam is consistently kind towards him and respectful of the fact that he needs space and it’s driving Bucky mad-- all this sweetness from this man he can’t have and isn’t sure he deserves anyway. Then, he sees Sam retire the shield and it feels like an ending, maybe one that Bucky pushed into being unwillingly by not responding to the texts and so not knowing where Sam was with his decisions and not being there to help him. Bucky isn’t meaning to be self-involved so much as he’s so caught up in his trauma and trying to get through it that he sometimes can’t see past the pain he’s in enough to see Sam’s own. Sam, for his part, sometimes fails to consider just how afraid Bucky is of letting himself trust someone again and at the idea of being happy and just assumes space and time will be enough but they aren’t.

This is also why they fall back into a rhythm pretty easily when they meet up again in Episode 2. While it probably hurt that Bucky stopped responding to his texts, Sam isn’t seeing it as a deal breaker. He’s back flirting with Bucky from the get-go and Bucky is following him to protect him. John Walker is an excuse that they have now-- a Captain America mutual problem to solve that can replace the ‘who are we now without Steve here and with this shield issue’ problems between them. The way they touch one another and seek to protect one another-- and show off for one another a bit-- is reassurance. Bucky wants to prove he’ll be there for Sam after not answering the texts so he jumps out of a plane to show he’s committed to the mission-- and to Sam-- by showing he’s working on getting over his fears and *can* get over some of them or at least deal with them. Sam is more important than his fear of heights. Bucky is more important to Sam than Sam’s fear of another Riley moment and as Riley moment of losing a partner mixes with Bucky’s trauma of the train car, Sam then steps up and saves Bucky from the side of the truck-- proving he can try to get over his own trauma and also be there for Bucky in return.

And, in the midst of it, is all the sexual tension between these two guys who have wanted to go to bed together for years now but stupid battles and trauma and Captain Americas kept getting in the way. Sam admits he likes Bucky’s stealthy cat moves and is floored and encouraged when Bucky flirts back. They’re all over one another in the grass-- Bucky sure to land so that he’s between Sam’s legs and Sam just grabbing his jacket lapels to keep him close. It’s a blatant invitation for Bucky to top him anytime, a little tongue-in-cheek, barely hidden under their whole begrudging one another’s presence vibe as even when Bucky grumbles and Sam tosses him off (after having pulled him closer by his jacket), they both know the truth under it. Sam reaches over to touch Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky is dazed from the pleasure of being so close to Sam, who not only just saved him and pulled him to him without a thought but who did so *at the expense of the mission*. Sam continuously proves throughout TFATWS that Bucky is of a higher priority to him than the actual mission is. He almost blows their undercover operation in Madripoor by coming close to breaking his cover to make sure that Bucky was okay and he lets the Flag Smashers escape when he saves Bucky from the truck. He very much wants Bucky to notice that this is how he feels-- that whether or not he winds up trying to take the shield back from Walker, whether or not he winds up Captain America, how he feels about Bucky isn’t dependent upon their roles as Steve’s mutual friends-- that they themselves have something independent of that and Sam wants as much of it as Bucky wants to take.

The whole cyborg wheels turning scene on the walk after the field is Sam wanting to talk more about it, even in the midst of the mission. Bucky’s quiet response of “it’s processing” when asked by a (nervous so teasing) Sam what his mind is thinking is about them, about what Sam confessed without words by saving Bucky from the truck. Bucky is telling Sam he understands what Sam is saying and is overwhelmed and Sam is already starting to let him mull it over when Walker and Lemar pull up in the truck and it has to be tabled discussion for awhile.

What is holding Bucky back, even if he is still flirting, still protective of Sam, is that he’s still never had to fully test himself in terms of getting over his trauma enough to really pursue something new in his life. He was about to in Endgame-- he felt ready to try to take this shot with Sam-- but that was before the shield and Steve’s plan entered the picture. Alone in New York to do nothing but try to deal with his past, he was having trouble seeing a future that looked appealing and regressed pretty badly in his trauma recovery to a point of lots of nightmares and not really great self-care. When he reconnects with Sam in Ep 2 and sees that he hasn’t really been successful in pushing Sam away-- that Sam cares that much, is interested that much-- it gives Bucky a boost to try to see if maybe he can find a way forward. Madripoor is the big test he gives himself.

In Madripoor, Bucky gets something very important for his recovery, which is a situation that allows him to own his own experiences. This is actually along the same lines of his attempts at online dating earlier in the series, even though it looks to be totally different-- the idea is that Bucky needs to prove to himself, in essence, that he’s in control of himself and have experiences where he’s in control of what happens. When Bucky is forced to play The Winter Soldier it’s not particularly fun for him and he’s bothered by it a lot-- but he emerges from it because he was able to do it. He was in control of himself throughout it. Sam being there absolutely helped, even if part of Bucky doesn’t want him to be because there’s a part of him that’s still ashamed of who he had become, even if he’s slowly accepting that it wasn’t really entirely his fault. (The amends thing shows he still thinks it is but not entirely & how he ultimately handles it shows he’s getting better at accepting he’s not to blame.)

Madripoor also brings about another challenge in the Selby scene, when Zemo makes it clear that The Winter Soldier was used for more than missions in the past and this happens in front of Sam. I actually don’t think that this was the first time Sam had this thought-- I saw him looking away from Bucky playing that role undercover as not just because he was pained at the reminder of this but because he wanted to try to give Bucky some space with it, some privacy, because this was another violation and Sam didn’t want to make it worse. Sam absolutely knows that Bucky faced different kinds of violence when he was tortured, even if it could go either way as to whether or not they’ve ever really talked much about it. Sam though continually keeps trying to show Bucky that underscoring their sexual tension there is Sam trying to convey that not only does he want to take things slow, he has no qualms with the idea of Bucky having whatever sense of control he needs to feel comfortable.

Telling Bucky he likes the whole “White Panther” vibe is a way of telling Bucky that he can see *him* there, even when he’s doing things that Sam had previously seen him do as The Winter Soldier-- it’s showing he knows the difference and he thinks Bucky looks plenty hot being all stealthy as himself. Later, in the grass, Sam just as easily could have used his momentum to roll them just a little more and landed on top of Bucky in the grass but he didn’t-- he let Bucky wind up on top and just pulled him closer, saying without saying that he’s not only fine with this in bed because he gets that Bucky needs this but because he just straight up *likes* this. He wants the White Wolf to come at him a bit and he’s showing Bucky that in the same moments that he’s also just scooped Bucky up from a flashback to one of the worst moments of his life and took him safely to a peaceful field of flowers like... he’s offering up some romance here, ya know? It’s heart eyes as a series of actions.

Then, there’s the therapy scene. Both of them are breaking a little with patience, snapping a bit, feeling brittle and like the other one isn’t totally seeing them. *Even in the midst of that*, they’re also still sending out the same messages. The way they look at one another before they let the soul gazing de-evolve into a staring contest to cover up the real emotion there. The way that they both scoot closer in the chairs without any real direction and then Bucky thinks he’s already gotten a bit scandalously close with the bumping knees, is nervous about pushing it any further and especially in front of the therapist he’s not entirely honest about anything with and who works for the government and there’s Sam again with his ‘you know what? I don’t even care about any of this except for you’ attitude. It’s Sam who takes Bucky’s chair and pulls him over closer and slips his thigh between Bucky’s legs and when Bucky splutters in surprise that it’s “a little close”, Sam’s patience is a little thin and he does snap “well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” because he’s been trying. really. hard. to tell Bucky. that he just wants to be with him. regardless of all the other captain america or battling big threes or whatever nonsense the world is throwing at them now. Maybe the most telling part here is how he lets his fingers run lightly over Bucky’s thigh during this. It’s both very tender/sweet and very sexy at once-- a message that says okay, hey, maybe you didn’t totally go for the field or maybe it’s not all you want. Maybe sometimes you want me to be the one more in control and you’re terrified of that, understandably. Well, here’s how it’d be: see this whole thigh thing? It’s a nod towards basically mutually-controlled sex. It’s a way of saying what I also like, what I also want, if you want it, too, is to just be with you as we are-- a couple of pretty equally matched guys just having fun, no real power games, no need to define who’s topping or bottoming or any of this. That brush of Bucky’s thigh? It’s a reminder. It’s saying whatever you want, however you want it, this is how you’re going to get treated by me: not like you’re fragile but like you’re *precious*. It’s saying I don’t want to hurt you, I want to love you but you have to trust me enough to let me and I don’t know what else to do to prove that to you.

Maybe the sweetest part is outside after the session, when Sam goes back to their default barbing and quips that he feels better when he clearly does not and Bucky, devastated that he is making this hard for Sam and didn’t see how much he was hurting him, just says “I feel awful”. It’s basically an apology and it’s also saying that he’s getting the messages that Sam has been putting out.

So, it’s something that by the time Bucky gets through a series of challenges to himself in Madripoor-- playing the Winter Soldier and having his history of being raped brought up in front of Sam-- he gets through the biggest one yet, courtesy of John Walker, when he is electrocuted. Bucky had been programmed to respond and echoes of that would have still been happening to him when he woke up. We can see actually the flashbacks almost happening in front of his eyes when he gives Sam the shield at the end of the scene. He fought it all, every step of the way, for Sam. When he woke up, he pushed through memories of every painful moment of it from before and the pain of the electrocution he was really feeling in that moment to get up and remember where he was, to stay in the moment and present through a PTSD flashback and save Sam’s life in the process. He leaves the shield with Sam and goes outside without a word but Sam sees it all on his face-- he knows just how much that took out of Bucky and that Bucky forced himself to get through it not just for his own healing process but to protect Sam. It’s an answer, one Bucky has been giving all along, to Sam’s silent questions. Every time Bucky protects him, he is saying to Sam that he wants to be with him and wants to work towards figuring that out.

Bucky still isn’t over the flashback by the time he gets to the scene with Sam and Torres and Torres-- a nice, normal, sweet guy with a crush on Sam whom Bucky privately thinks would be a better match for Sam and so is jealous of him-- triggers some annoyance just with his presence there. He can’t talk to Sam alone with Torres there. There’s still work to be done. He’s got to clean up the Zemo mess. By the time he is not killing Zemo in Slovakia-- exhibiting control over himself, making decisions about how he will react that he can be proud of, all in the face of a past torturer and abuser of his-- Bucky is at a new stage of free. He feels ready or almost ready, anyway. He wants to show Sam that he wants to try. Maybe this isn’t all over yet after all, no matter what Sam decides to do about the shield, even if Bucky thinks he ultimately will decide to take it up.

It’s clear that by this point, Bucky is going to support whatever Sam chooses to do about it but what’s also equally clear is that Bucky is hearing Sam when Sam has been sending messages that he wants to be with Bucky no matter what happens with the shield. He sees them before anything else and no one has ever loved Bucky this much and for once, he’s in love with someone who can love him back and does love him back. He’s free from the worst of his trauma, free from the trigger words, free from the sense that his past-- hydra, steve, any and all of it-- have to define him going forward. He’s free and ready and in love and decides to go to Delacroix and show Sam that he has noticed a thing or two about what *Sam* might need as well.

Maybe Sam needs a man who is strong, as strong as Bucky is-- physically and emotionally-- who can be there to listen or even just be silently companionable with him. Maybe Sam’s been alone for a long time and isn’t used to having someone close enough to notice or care about or be able to help with his problems. Maybe Sam is the kind who gets overwhelmed trying to help everyone around him and gets anxious about failing or when he fails and needs someone there to help get him over the last steps of it. Maybe he’s a good surrogate dad but it overwhelms him at times and he needs someone else to support him and help care for the boys. Maybe he doesn’t always hear what Sarah is trying to tell him or put her in the driver’s seat with decisions so it helps that Bucky can and does.

Maybe it’s been a long time since someone romanced Sam Wilson and maybe they never got it right or as right as it could be and maybe it just so happens that Bucky Barnes knows a thing or two about romancing. Maybe no one’s ever charmed his friends and family to win him over or showed up unannounced with an extravagant and intimate gift (and note that it’s really a leap from the Bucky that can’t bear to look at a shirtless Sam because he’s so attracted to him in Madripoor to showing up with a custom-made super suit)... especially not one he needed right in the moment, that showed how he was seen by someone who loved him, just when Sam needed to see himself that way, too. Maybe no one’s ever liked Sam’s hometown as much as he has, maybe Sam has never felt more at home than when Bucky is now there, too, saying with every action and look that he loves him-- something else that maybe Sam’s never had like this before. Bucky knows he’s not the only one who can get nervous. He sends out some messages of his own. His hands keep going to Sam’s waist. It’s flirty with the broken pipe but it’s also intimate inside the boat in the morning scene-- Bucky almost does it automatically and Sam sees it, sees his hands move as he’s looking down at the moment when Bucky pulls back and moves out of Sam’s space. He lets Sam see that, even if he doesn’t actually do it as they aren’t quite there yet. He is intentionally showing Sam that Sam isn’t the only one who notices needs and that Bucky sees in Sam a want for that quiet intimacy. He sees how badly Sam needs to be held close and just loved into oblivion and Bucky is happy to oblige. It makes Sam nervous, being that seen, but he also really likes it. He has his own fears the way that Bucky does but they dance towards one another. There’s a dance to these things, as Bucky says, and he and Sam have been engaged in that dance their whole story and especially in TFATWS.

By the time we get to melting ice cream cake and a stage of public hugging, we’re seeing them having finally gotten to a place where they can allow themselves to be with one another and that’s really the implications of the end scene. It could go either way as to whether or not they actually have sex after Sam’s first night as Captain America in New York or whether it’s after the last scene in the finale but the way they look at one another on the docks before they walk off together is with an indication that they’re on the same page now and they’re becoming physically more intimate. Bucky taps Sam’s shoulder when he approaches and Sam is there, still with the party lingering in the background, needing a moment of quiet but Bucky is welcome in that quiet and knows it. Sam likes him checking up on him. The shoulder tap is a nod towards their multitude of shoulder touches before and Sam turns, their expressions acknowledge their history of doing that to show affection and when they pull away to leave, Sam’s returning touch moves from Bucky’s shoulder-- further up to start with and then over more-- to the back of his neck, a traditionally much more intimate touch and more overtly in line with people who are sleeping together (or interested in doing so) than not. It’s not the first time, either, as Bucky seems comfortable with it and they walk off together as the sun sets, indicating that they’re going to spend the night together. Sam’s expression when they leave the dock is a happy kind of smug, like he knows he’s about to have some serious fun and not from playing penuckle. Bucky’s smile when there with him at the docks is happy and relaxed and comfortable. Put together, they’ve either started sleeping together or are about to and feel good about it. The nervousness they had around one another has evaporated. Consider Sam on the boat when Bucky gets close to holding his hips to Sam on the docks at the end of Episode 6-- it’s a higher degree of confidence in his ability to handle being this close to someone he cares so much about. The same is true for Bucky.

But, yeah, 800 paragraphs later... Bucky stopped answering Sam’s texts for, among other reasons, out of pain over what he felt was the shield-induced reasons they couldn’t try any longer to be together and couldn’t stand not being able to be around him so he cut off communication to try to move on. Also? For what it’s worth? Had there been a specific incident that triggered Bucky to stop texting Sam, they could have shown us that flashback if it wasn’t gayer than gay. We got a Wakanda flashback. They could have shown us the moment Sam and Bucky stopped talking. They didn’t. So it was for romance-related reasons.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon #the winter soldier #the white wolf

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ibroughtyoumybullets · 4 years ago

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You said not to ask so please ignore this if you don't want to explain, but could you elaborate on your March 19th / May 1st theory? thanks!

ahfkafhksfh yeah no problem. its not a theory its just ... brain worms that have taken a specific shape but thats not new this is just the latest form. under a cut because i hate like. getting peoples hopes up over something ive entirely made up

greentext format but make it wordy

> i think frank has been like. suspicious lately. i dont know how to explain it beyond that. he’s done a LOT of press-but-not-press in the last month or so. sure, he’s definitely bored and stuck in his house like the rest of us, and he had a new EP come out, and the EP is technically the reason for the press. but it also ... isnt. like the bulk of it has been AFTER the EP came out, and none of it has been wholly focused on the EP. and to me, at least, it feels like, i dont know, easing the band back into public consciousness thru a press circuit without the band ACTUALLY doing a press circuit because MCR been pretty hard and fast about the ‘we dont need or want ur press’ when it comes to the reunion.

> continuing off the last one, in the ... jim ward interview he did, i think? one of the more recent ones, at least - he got asked about his writing process and mentioned working with gerard in present tense. very very likely it meant nothing at all, but also like ... i dont trust him LOL part of me thinks it was on purpose. Im just suspicious of him after the broken clock thing.

> not only did frank mention working with gerard in the present tense, for Months now, but especially during his recent mini press tour, frank has been really vague but consistent in talking about working with people on music remotely. id have to go looking for it and i dont feel like it, but it’s been something along the lines of ‘working with new people And people you know’. suspitcheous.

> ONTO GERARD. Gerard like never uses social media. but then a couple days ago he pops up to mention franks EP (which is sweet) and makes sure to sign it so its like, obviously not something his social media manager wrote up for him. and in that post he mentions being down in the lab. and LORD KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK THAT MEANS besides the fact that he’s working on something. but hey, its gerard, when isnt he.

> But Gerard’s also doing that charity stream on the 2nd. and we havent seen gerard in MONTHS. since august, maybe? and he’s not just speaking, hes PERFORMING. besides the shrine show, the last time he performed was for the muppet charity thing with ray in 2016, and before that, it was the last hes alien leg in 2015. None of us even expected him to perform when it got announced - it had to be confirmed by the event organizers. and that just ... pings something in my brain, same as franks little press tour. It’s gerard emerging from his cave, Being A Musician, you know?

> SPEAKING of the last time we saw gerard, he teased us back in the summer by mentioning that he has something he’s been working on thats not comic book related that he cant talk about. maybe its a fucking line of hot sauces or a tripp collaboration.

> Or maybe its music.

> this is where we depart from reality a little bit more:

> this has been trotted out again and again on here as a talking point, and i dither between agreeing with it or not, but: MCR spent two years planning their return. they had a plan, for whatever the fuck was supposed to happen - even if all that was supposed to happen was the tour.

> and their plan got pissed on, doused in gasoline, set on fire, extinguished, and thrown into the mouth of a lion. But They Had A Plan. And theyve been fucking radio silent except the hipdot collab, and before that, rescheduling shows. I ASSUME their almost-year of silence has been them, in part, reformulating their plan. Changing whatever it was going to be to fit the new timeline, or making a back up plan in case things get worse.

> But the original plan had them all free - as far as we know - after november of 2020. so they wouldnt have had active MCR stuff happening for the national anthem comic book release, the electric century album + comic release, the you look like death tua comic release. But those things still happened, because they didnt require having to be in the real world where the plague is.

> so, what the worms hinge on, is that whatever the New Plan Is, Whatever They Are Doing Now, it involves waiting until all their obligations and projects that SHOULDNT have interfered with MCR stuff - but had to the potential to because of covid - ended.

> and thats now. thats the next couple weeks. you look like death just finished up, mikeys album and comic are out, and national anthem finishes up in like a week in a half.

> and then theres nothing (that we know of) until the rescheduled shows happen, or *knocks thrice on wood* they have to reschedule again.

> and this is where we really enter crazy town:

> so i was thinking about all of these things, and the imagery / themeing for the return (what little we got of it) and how a year ago everybody was pulling out the wheel of the year trying to figure out what they would do next, and when.

> and March 20th (i know i said march 19th originally, i’ll get into that) is Ostara.

> if youre not vaguely witchy, its basically a festival for the spring equinox. light and dark are in balance, yadda yadda yadda. and i could go into full on insane depth about the black and white aspects of the return, the witchiness of an offering + a summoning but i wont. it boils down to: its the closest festival to when all of MCR’s calendars are clear as far as we know, and its almost a year to date of when they had to reschedule the shows.

> and March 19th is a Friday. which is new music release day. Ostara / the equinox are technically on saturday, but its at 5am on saturday morning so ... technicalities.

> so the worms in my brain say new single on march 19th. or Something on march 19th. or 20th. one of those days.

> and the worms in my brain also say MCR are a bunch of cruel little shits, and theyre gonna make us wait before they give us anything substantial.

> so we move to May 1st.

> May 1st is also known as May Day, also known as Beltane. (We’re back to the wheel of the year for this one) Its the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. And its a Saturday. which is NOT new music release day - but hey, its close enough.

> may day is also like, similar to halloween / samhain in that the veil is supposed to be thinner on those days, and i think theres a connection the imagery and over-all plan wise between coming back on halloween, and possibly doing something on mayday. i dont think they just came back on halloween as a birthday present to frank.

> so second single on may day, or album? or announcement that theres gonna BE an album? maybe they wont give us a single on ostara but just tease us with something. i dont know. but i think theres something here.

> im aware this was a lot of words and i basically gave you nothing, but i can only give you what the worms give to me.

> sorry for being the way i am. hope this helped.

#Anonymous #asks #anon

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hearts-hunger · 4 years ago

Text

dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter four || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Din gives you a present, and you both spend the day enjoying it.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, a tiny bit of angst | Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: The penultimate chapter! She’s wordy but she’s cute. No, I am not immune to manufactured angst that is solved by a man being very kind and understanding. Also, reader has a canon maiden name, sorry if that’s weird. I hope you like it! ♡

You woke to a soft but persistent knock on the front door.

You frowned a little as you wrapped a sheet around you and went to see who it was - surely it was just Din, as nobody else knew you were here. You opened the door and immediately wished you’d taken a moment to make yourself more presentable.

A boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve was standing expectantly on the top step, looking entirely too unbothered by your appearance that would have indicated to anyone a slight bit older what exactly you were staying on Naboo for. You hastily wrapped the sheet around you with more intentionality and tried to tame your sleep-mussed hair.

“Miss Tilyria?” the boy asked.

You almost didn’t know what to say. No one had called you that in ages, and it made you slightly wistful to be on Naboo hearing your maiden name again.

“Yes,” you said, a little hesitantly. You wondered if someone from your past had seen you in the city yesterday. “How can I help?”

The boy gave you a smile and held out a package neatly wrapped in brown paper. “The Mandalorian said I was to bring this to you.”

You took it from him, careful of the wrappings, and smiled to yourself. What had Din gone and surprised you with now?

“He also told me to give you a message,” the boy said seriously, and you knew Din had made it out to be a mission of vital importance. Being on speaking terms with a Mandalorian was a very great honor for the boy, you knew, and you smiled at the thought of Din creating a little adventure to fill the boy’s morning.

“What message is that, darling?” you asked. His accent had taken you back to your youth, and you recalled fondly that children on Naboo were called by terms of endearment whether you knew them or not.

He beamed. “I'm to tell you that the Mandalorian’s work kept him out longer than expected, and he hopes you can accept his apology for being late.”

You cradled the package in your hands, knowing the gift was a part of that apology; Din knew he didn’t need to ply you with gifts to keep himself in your good graces, but it was a sweet gesture all the same.

“And the Mandalorian paid you for your trouble?” you asked.

“Yes, miss,” the boy said, nodding earnestly.

You smiled. “Thank you for helping him, dearest. I know we’re both very grateful to you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a proud smile. “Have a good day, miss!”

You gave him a wave as he scampered off down the steps, singing a little nursery rhyme to himself. You started to hum it too, remembering it from time spent playing with your friends as a child.

You took the package inside, your sheet-dress skimming over the floor as you made your way to the table on the terrace. The morning sun was bright and warm on your shoulders, and you felt a flutter of giddiness in your chest as you opened your present.

“Oh, Din,” you gasped, unfolding the layers of soft sea-green silk organza that fell through your fingers like water. It was the most beautiful dress you’d ever seen, vibrant with delicate flowers of every hue stitched into the bodice and sheer sleeves. The fabric caught the sunlight and little silver butterflies hidden among the flowers shimmered every time the dress moved.

You wanted to put it on as soon as you took it out of the wrapping, but you made yourself be patient. You carefully folded it back up and placed it on the settee; your fingers trailed lovingly over the fabric for a moment before you untucked the sheet you wore and put it back on the bed. Your new dress - and the man who’d bought it for you - deserved you looking your best, and you took your time getting ready.

You lathered yourself with flowery soap in the shower, soothing any remaining ache that lingered from your time on the frozen planet. This trip had been just what you and Din needed, and though you knew you’d have to go back to the more demanding pace of your life soon enough, you savored the time you had to simply be with your husband. You rubbed sweet-smelling lotion into your skin as you dried off in the sun, hoping your Mandalorian wouldn’t be too much later in returning to you.

It felt more luxurious than anything you’d done in a long time to lay out on the terrace with nothing on you but the sunshine, letting your hair dry with the slight breeze as you stretched out on the reclining chair and listened to the birdsong. The terrace was hedged on both sides by flowering bushes and willow trees, leaving you safe from any prying eyes, and you drank in the feel of the sun’s warmth all over your body.

When you couldn’t keep your excitement in check any longer, you went back inside and unfurled the dress again. It was so beautiful, more beautiful than any dress you’d owned before you married. You put it on carefully, minding the little silk blooms; it settled a little off your shoulders and swirled over the floor, and you positively glowed with happiness. You were not surprised that it fit perfectly - it was very like Din to know the details of your sizing, as attentive as he was.

You sat at the vanity and added the barest touch of makeup, glossing your lips a little and twining small flowers into your hair. You felt more beautiful than you had in a long time, and you couldn’t wait for your husband to come back so you could thank him.

You didn’t have to wait long. You were tucking the last of the flowers into your hair, trying to make them sit just so, when the door opened behind you. You caught a glimpse of beskar in the mirror and turned with a beaming smile on your face.

“Din!” you said happily, rushing over to him, the hem of your dress trailing behind you over the floor. You threw your arms around his neck and he caught you against him on instinct.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” you said sincerely, looking up at his helmet. You waited for a beat, perhaps a little selfishly, for him to comment on your dress, but he said nothing.

You pulled back and twirled for him; your dress belled out around you and you couldn’t help a giggle at the feeling of the soft fabric. You felt like a princess, and you hoped Din liked it as much as you did.

You gave him an expectant smile, but he still didn’t say anything - he hadn’t removed his helmet, either, so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You felt a sudden flurry of nervousness, casting about for reasons why he wouldn’t be happy. Perhaps it hadn’t been meant for you at all - but no, it could only have been for you. What other Mandalorian knew your maiden name and would send you a gift in the first place?

Perhaps he’d been intending for you to wait to put it on, in which case you could better understand his upset, but still didn’t know why he’d be downright sullen about it to the point of not speaking to you. Then, the worst thought of all - maybe he was angry with you because you hadn’t thanked him, and he felt you were taking his generosity for granted.

Rationally you knew that didn’t seem like him at all, but it didn’t take much for the idea to settle. It was too grand and beautiful of a gift; you probably hadn’t been able to afford it, not really. You suddenly felt much less dazzling than you had, and felt a little embarrassed to be flaunting his gift without even having thanked him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your voice soft with nervousness. You crossed your arms over your chest defensively and couldn’t look up at him.

“Sorry?” he asked. The first thing he’d said to you, and it sounded entirely bewildered even though the modulator. “What are you sorry for?”

You worried the petals of one of the little silk flowers. “I didn’t...” You made yourself look up at him, imploring him to understand you. “I love the dress, Din, more than you know. I know didn’t even thank you for it, and I didn’t mean to make you upset with me, because I - ”

“Cyare,” he said, gently cutting you off. He took off his helmet then and held it under his arm, and you felt a measure of relief when you saw his expression was nothing but kind.

“I’m not upset with you,” he assured you quickly. “You don’t have to thank me. I...” He looked a little bashful. “It was a gift, and I hoped you would like it, and I’m very glad you do. I wasn’t looking for thanks, cyare.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a mix of relief and confusion and a fair bit of sheepishness. Of course he hadn’t been withholding his affection because you hadn’t thanked him. You were foolish to have ever thought so.

And yet...

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked softly, still a little hurt and confused by his lackluster greeting.

He looked very, very apologetic at that.

“I wanted to,” he hurried to explain. “I just... I know it sounds like an excuse but you were so breathtaking, running over to me like that in your new dress, and I absolutely couldn't think of anything intelligent to say to you. Nothing that would have done justice to how radiant and lovely you look right now.”

“Oh,” you said again. You felt your cheeks warm at the look of heartfelt longing on his face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said. “I know I must have. But, cyar’ika...”

He closed the distance between you, and you felt a thrill of desire and affection wash through you at your big, beskar-clad husband looking at you so lovingly.

“You are the most captivating thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he said tenderly, ardently. He tipped your face up with a gentle touch. “In all the galaxy, there is nothing as beautiful as you.”

You let him kiss you, dazed with how much you loved him. You felt a secret bit of pride that you’d so undone your Mandalorian as to render him speechless, and for as lovely as the dress had made you feel, a word from Din could make you feel that beautiful no matter what you wore.

“Thank you,” you said, shy and earnest. You showered his face in kisses, and he laughed.

“You’re welcome, cyare,” he said warmly. “I’m very happy you like it.”

You pressed closer to him, feeling the cool of his beskar through the fabric of your dress. “Come have lunch with me on the terrace,” you said. “You’re probably hungry after all that very important errand-running, aren’t you?”

He hummed in agreement. “A little,” he admitted. “Let me clean up a bit before I join you, alright?”

You relinquished your hold on him with a parting kiss. “Don’t take too long, my love.”

You set yourself to putting lunch out on the table by the pool while he removed his armor and went for a shower. The pantry had all sorts of delicious food you hadn’t enjoyed in a long time - fruits and cheese and bottles of sunberry wine. Most of what you had aboard the Crest was good but not quite so frivolous, and you were glad you didn’t have to worry about cooking a whole meal.

Din came out looking refreshed, his curls damp and his scruff a little more neatly trimmed. He’d dressed in a soft white shirt and dark trousers, and you were happy to see him so relaxed as he took his glass of wine and tapped it against yours in greeting.

“Thank you for making lunch, cyar’ika,” he said.

You smiled. “You’re welcome. It took a lot of effort to get it set up so pretty for you.”

He chuckled and picked an orange from the fruit bowl. “What did you get up to while I was gone?”

You took half of the orange slices when he offered them to you. “I was asleep until your little friend came knocking.”

“How did that go? At first I thought it was clever of me to use your maiden name, and then I remembered that anyone who knows here would know you by that name.”

He touched a few fingers to his temple to indicate his foolishness, and it was such an endearing little gesture that you couldn’t help a laugh.

“It was a little surprising to hear it,” you admitted. “It was kind of nice, but not as nice as being called Mrs. Djarin.”

You followed him over to the balcony, watching as he leaned on the railing and looked out at the mountains.

He thumbed the rim of his wine glass. “I’m sorry you don’t get called that very often,” he said. He looked over at you. “I can’t imagine it’s any easier for you than it is for me to stay so... anonymous.”

To your knowledge, only a handful of people knew his name - you, Cara, Greef, and Omera. Your parents, too, and you knew how much it meant that he’d given them his full name when he asked to court you. Part of it was just the anonymity that Mandalorians valued so highly - they were simply harder to find if you didn’t know their names or faces.

The other part had come with your baby: now that you were technically on the run, his name was the most valuable piece of information the New Republic or Imperial warlords could get their hands on. Din Djarin was a man with a past, with a link to something they could use as leverage; a nameless Mandalorian was just that, and there were an indeterminate number of them to sift through to find the right person.

For you to be called by his last name would be very risky for all of you, so in most cases, you were merely “the Mandalorian’s wife”. Some encounters were better left completely void of your attachment to him at all, and you had played the part of the nursemaid more than once. You’d had to play a slave girl once, and that had sent your husband into an emotional turmoil you had a hard time untangling. You eventually realized he was torn between guilt at feeling like he’d degraded you and a wild, irresistible lust for you, and you helped him work that out in a way that ended with your skimpy little costume shredded on the floor of the Crest’s refresher.

There at the balcony, you ran an affectionate hand over his back and tried to ease the slight tension he held across his shoulders.

“Thank you for saying so,” you said gently. “I wish we didn’t have to be so careful about it, but if it keeps you and our baby safe, it’s alright if you’re the only one who calls me that.”

He looked over at you and smiled. “I love you, Mrs. Djarin.”

You leaned close and kissed him; he was sweet with wine and fruit, and his cheeks were warm with sunshine.

“You look so pretty in your new dress, cyar’ika,” he said sweetly. He nosed against your jaw and breathed deeply. “You smell nice, too.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I wanted to get all dolled up for you,” you said. “It’s not every day we get to lounge around without a toddler to mind or a ship to pilot.”

He set his wine glass on the railing and put his hands on your waist, drawing you close. “We should get back to them in a few days,” he said. “I don’t want to leave him for too long.”

“Me either,” you said truthfully, though with the way your husband was kissing your neck, you weren’t sure anything could have convinced you to leave just then.

“But for right now, I want to be here with you,” he said, dipping his head to kiss your collarbone. “And I want to see what’s under that pretty new dress of yours.”

You bit your lip as he sank to his knees in front of you, steadying yourself against the railing as he took the hem of your dress and tucked it neatly into the ribbon belt.

He gave an appreciative hum. “Well, then. Nothing under your dress, I see. How scandalous of you, Mrs. Djarin.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your thigh. “Seems like you were hoping this afternoon might go a certain way, hm?”

You almost rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself.

“You’d never have known if you hadn’t been so keen to look, Mando,” you said cooly.

He looked up at you and grinned. “Fine, you got me.” He traced his fingers over the backs of your thighs. “May I show you just how much I like you in this dress, my love?”

You nodded, every bit of your cool, teasing demeanor lost to you as he gently brought your leg over his shoulder.

“Din,” you breathed, gripping the railing as his tongue parted your folds and started in on you with an admirable enthusiasm. You leaned your head back as he lapped at your heat; he was being a bit less careful than usual, but no less skillful. You gave a breathy moan as he sucked on your clit, and his own groan of desire made you shudder with pleasure.

“Oh, Din, Din - ” you gasped, feeling yourself quickly lose any thread of control as he eased his fingers inside of you, his tongue still on your clit. He curled his fingers inside of you and you quickly came undone, tangling your fingers in his hair as you moaned his name through your orgasm.

“Love it when you call my name like that,” he said, standing to give you a bruising kiss. Your legs still shook with pleasure and you steadied yourself against him, bracketed protectively by his arms as he held your waist.

“I want to try something,” he said. His voice was rough with desire, and you didn’t think you could deny him anything in your power to give.

“Okay,” you agreed. He picked you up by your waist and sat you on the balcony railing; in a brief panic, you grabbed at his shoulders and pressed closer to him.

He chuckled. “I’m not going to let you fall, cyar’ika,” he said, holding you close to comfort you for a moment. He sucked love marks into your neck and circled your waist with his arm.

“Let me take you right here, cyare,” he said. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

And oh, you would have said yes in a heartbeat to something like that, his possessiveness alone enough to flood your whole body with heat. You were still a little uneasy with the balcony, though, and wanted convincing.

“And if I tumble right off to my death?” you asked.

He smiled against your skin. “You won’t, I promise. I’ve tussled with things a lot bigger than you, and falling off a cliff wasn’t what killed them.”

“No?” you asked. His hands on your breasts were awfully distracting.

“I am a man of some honor,” he said, kissing the top of your breastbone. “And I figure letting someone tumble off a cliff isn’t a very noble kill.”

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” you said. “You’ll keep me close when you kill me, then.”

He laughed. “No one’s killing anyone, cyar’ika. You trust me, don’t you?”

He had you there, and he knew it. “Of course I trust you, Din.”

“Okay then,” he said with a smile, punctuating it with a kiss. “Relax, cyare. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You let yourself sink into his touch, cradling his face as he kissed you. He kept one arm around you, steady and safe, and gave his cock a few quick strokes before he settled himself between your legs.

“Easy, cyar’ika,” he said affectionately as you held tightly to him. You hooked your legs around his waist as he pushed into you, leaning back against his hand that rested steadily on the small of your back, taking him as deeply as you could. You kind of liked it, the headiness of depending on him so completely to keep you safe as you took him inside of you.

“Maker,” he breathed. “You take me so well, my love.”

That was certainly a compliment, considering how well-endowed he was. You remembered how wide-eyed you’d been at him your first night together, and how he’d lavished you with praise for how well you’d done.

That night, he’d whisked you away to your love nest after all the guests were gone, both of you eager for him to finally remove his helmet for you and take you to bed for the first time. The place you’d honeymooned was nearer to your village in the country, a small lake house that had been in your family for generations and had probably seen many a young bride and her new husband discover each other. Din had been very slow and gentle with you, and despite neither of you knowing what you were doing, it ended up an enjoyable night for both of you.

It seemed your husband was remembering that night too.

“I thought you would break, the first time you took me inside of you,” he said. He laughed a little and you felt his cheeks warm against yours.

“That sounded awfully prideful, forgive me,” he amended. “I really have no clue how I compare to anyone else in terms of... size, so I shouldn’t be very big-headed about it.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek, endeared by his humility. “Let me put it this way, darling,” you said. “You’re very well-hung.”

He laughed out loud at that, bright and warm and beautiful.

“Well, that’s encouraging to know,” he said. “Thank you, cyare.”

You smiled when you kissed him.

“I was just so afraid to hurt you,” he said, his hands wandering over you. “I was so used to violence, and you were the softest, most beautiful thing I’d touched in all my life. I didn’t know if I could... if I was good enough, or kind enough to treat you how you deserved.”

Despite your nervousness that night, you’d known he wouldn’t hurt you. Din was incapable of it, of really hurting you, and even at his roughest he was still an attentive and selfless lover.

“I thought I would break too,” you said, teasing him gently. “But we fit together, you and me - perfect for each other.”

He started to move, and you sighed against his shoulder as he drew out of you and sheathed himself to the hilt again. He took his time and built up your pace slowly, kissing you deeply. You gripped his shoulders as he snapped his hips against yours.

“Perfect for each other,” he agreed against your skin, running his hands over your thigh. “Ner mesh’la riduur.”

“Din,” you managed, giving a broken gasp when he reached between you to circle your clit. Maker, he was so good to you. You carded your fingers through his hair and raised your legs to draw him deeper.

You moaned his name as he took you, possessive and a little rough with pleasure. Like he'd wanted, everyone within hearing distance of your balcony heard who exactly was bedding you so well.

“I’m close, cyare,” he groaned into your neck. You felt yourself tighten around him and leaned your head back in pleasure.

“Me too,” you gasped. “Cum with me, please.”

He gave one, two, three more strokes, circling your clit as he buried himself deep inside you and came with a desperate groan. You came when he did, riding out his last sloppy thrusts as he rubbed you through your orgasm.

“Osi’kyr,” he breathed as he kissed you.

“You only say that when we get into dogfights,” you said with a laugh. Without fail, every time he had to do some fancy flying to get someone off your tail, you’d hear that exclamation from the cockpit.

He gave a tired laugh. “Yes, well, I’d much rather be saying it with you than while trying to get away from some X-Wings.”

He pulled out of you and you drew him close, wanting him against you still. You brushed his curls back from his face.

“Thanks for not letting me fall off the balcony,” you said with a kiss.

“Any time, cyar’ika,” he said, and you could feel his smile against your mouth.

You spent the rest of the day on the terrace, dipping your feet in the pool and sharing slices of shuura fruit and oranges. You got wine and sun-drunk, both of you giggling like school kids at funny stories you took turns telling and little jokes you'd built up with each other over the years. You loved that nothing had to take him away from you - he could stay, as long as he wanted, and you hung off him as if to make up for all of the times you couldn't.

"You're tired of me, aren't you?" you teased. He'd found a seat at the table while you went in to get another bottle of wine, and instead of getting your own chair, you were sitting in his lap.

He smiled as you kissed over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, pink and warm with the sun.

"No," he said sincerely. "I could never be tired of you."

He traced patterns against your hips, content you let you kiss him as the sun started to set. The air was steadily growing cooler, and you cuddled closer to him.

"Would you like to live here?" he asked. "If we ever got the chance to settle down?"

You smiled. "You mean if you and our son ever stop being fugitives from the law?"

He chuckled. "If we're ever lucky enough for that to happen, yes."

You considered that, looking out over the mountains as the sun sank behind them and cast marvelous pinks and oranges over the surface of the lake.

"I hadn't really thought about it," you admitted. "It's hard to plan or dream about our future when everything seems so immediate, day to day. Of course I would love for our children to grow up somewhere safe, but if that's the Crest, then I'd be just as happy there as anywhere else."

He curled his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Do you think so?" he asked, and you knew he wasn't sure you were telling the truth, whether consciously or not.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. The Crest is the only place I've called home, really. And I know it's your home too, but you grew up on one planet, with the same friends and school teachers through your whole childhood. You don't want that for our kids?"

You drew his hand over your stomach and held it there, drawing circles over his knuckles. You hoped you would be pregnant soon - now that you knew it was what you both wanted, you found yourself daydreaming about how different and wonderful your life would be with a new baby.

It would be hard to have two babies on the Crest. There really wasn’t room for a family of four; it was a bachelor’s ship, and you’d made it comfortable enough for the three of you, but it would only get harder if you had more children. You didn’t want to leave the Crest - it was your home, your first home with your husband, familiar and safe like an old friend. But Din was right; if you were honest with yourself, you had envisioned your children growing up like you had, not with the transient childhood that Din had gone through.

You sighed. “I don’t know,” you said. “I guess I do. But...”

You trailed off, unsure you even wanted to talk about something that seemed so unachievable. Of course you wanted to settle down with him and raise your family - but it wasn’t feasible right now, and it made you confused and sad to think about it.

He sensed your hesitation and twined his fingers with yours.

“It’s ok,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You ran your fingers over his collarbone. “I want to talk about it sometime,” you said. “When we’re closer to being able to do it, you know? Right now everything just seems so... jumbled.”

His laugh was a little melancholic. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You were both quiet for a moment; then, sensing your lovers’ getaway drifting into more serious territory than you wanted, you sat up and gave him a quick, deep kiss.

“We have our whole lives to worry about those sorts of things,” you said. You stood and offered him a hand. “Come on, Mando. Let’s go jump on the bed or something.”

He grinned up at you as he took your hand. “Don’t fuss if I start a pillow fight, then.”

You smirked. “I won’t fuss if you let me win.”

He let you kiss him and take him by the hand; your worries about the future were soon forgotten in a flurry of feathers, and you held on to every single moment like it was something precious.

Read chapter five!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven, @sarahjkl82-blog, @remmysbounty, @bitchin-beskar, @cosmicbreathe, @prettyboyskywalker ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

#the fact that i didn't know i was already 4 chapters into this abjshbjdhb #i hope you like it!#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #maddie writes stuff!#dralshy'a ka'ra

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dazais-guardian-angel · 3 years ago

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Fic Questionnaire

@ford-ye-fiji tagged me to do this; thank you. ^_^

How many works do you have on AO3? 106

What's your total AO3 word count? 395,897

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 27 fandoms, though for most of them it’s only like one or two. They are Akatsuki no Yona, Bungou Stray Dogs, My Hero Academia, Hunter x Hunter, Tales of Zestiria, Tales of Berseria, Tales of Graces, Tales of the Abyss, Tales of Xillia, Tales of Hearts, Tales of the Rays, Professor Layton, Noragami, Pandora Hearts, Dai Gyakuten Saiban, A Series of Unfortunate Events, RWBY, Tangled the series, Doki Doki Literature Club, Ori and the Blind Forest, Vanitas no Carte, Genshin Impact, Kiznaiver, Boku dake ga Inai Machi, Kuroshitsuji, Ai the Somnium Files, and Charlotte.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “Pictures, Posters, and Tender Beauty”, “Plus Est En Vous”, “My Reason”, “I Am Here, Too”, and “A Bandage for my Scars, and your Heart” ...Not surprised that four out of five of those are MHA fics, but I will never understand how that Tangled the series one I did got so insanely popular..... maybe because the show director himself acknowledged it. 0_0

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to, though I have to shamefully admit I pick and choose which ones I respond to. I appreciate every comment I get, of course, every writer does, but idk, I just feel like a broken record responding to all similar shorter comments with “Thank you so much!!! I’m so happy you liked it <3″ or something like that... Is that cruel of me? >_> I also feel weird responding to comments on my super old stuff, because aside from a few exceptions, I don’t really like most of my old fics anymore alkgklflkkl and I barely remember them enough to be able to give a reasonable response to comments on those. Instead I just put all my energy into responding to longer, more detailed comments, because with those I actually have more to work with to say back... But again, I love all my comments!! I’m really sorry if I don’t respond to your comment, it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, I just don’t know what to say back OTL

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Haaaah, there are a few, but proooobably the most angsty ending would be in “Smile, and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun.” Since the thing is basically 12k words of agonizingly drawn-out All Might death... :’) Though I meant for the actual ending to be somewhat hopeful/bittersweet? and I surely have other ones that have more painful endings... But that’s the obvious one that comes to mind, since I’ve had multiple people yell at me for it. :)

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I can’t remember any instances of outright hate, but I’ve gotten some... odd comments every once in a while... Or just some annoying criticism that the person didn’t intend to be mean about, I don’t think, but that realllly wasn’t warranted. These comments are very rare though.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Noooo way in hell lol

Have you ever had a fic stolen? ....I mean, not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah, I think I had at least one someone asked to translate into Russian, although they put it on FF.net lol

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No... I really want to though. Multiple friends and I have planned different ones, but we haven’t gotten around to doing any of them yet because I’m into different fandoms atm and also dealing with health problems that distract me.... My ex-friend and I had a major one that was in the planning stages, but then she stopped being my friend so it never got off the ground. :’) I’m still upset about that...

What's your all time favorite ship? Mmmmm that’s hard; I don’t ship that much at all, so although I have a few favorite ships, one in particular doesn’t really stand out to me as my hardcore OTP.... Buuut I guess I would say Snow/Serah from FFXIII; I love ff13 so much, it’s so special to me, and those two are just the absolute sweetest and the heart and soul of the game 🥺❤️ I haven’t written anything for them or ff13 in general, but maybe someday.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I only ever have one WIP at a time, so..... Hopefully not my current long one, I am constantly trying to slap myself for thinking, intimidated as I am by it with all my ideas for it and all the research I need to do. :’)

What are your writing strengths? I think I’m really good at writing characters’ emotions... the emotions they show, and everything they’re feeling internally. I really like the stream-of-consciousness style of internal monologue I’ve started using within the last few years; I think it’s very... cathartic? In general I just think I’m good at writing softness, cause I definitely feel the soft feels rereading my stuff lol

What are your writing weaknesses? Motivation.... starting a writing session and not getting distracted.... ADHD.... what do I do. :’) Although I just said I like that stream-of-consciousness style I use, I often feel like I use it too much, or things get redundant, and too wordy and overwhelming, bah..... I’m also shit at just.... knowing things, like worldbuilding, but like, real-world stuff that everyone knows, but I’ve been living under a rock my whole life and not done a lot of things that are normal for most other people, so I struggle with that in my writing, which is why all my fics not-so-subtly eek around mentioning things like food and irl places and so much else, haaah.... now I’m got myself writing 1800s Victorian London; someone save me

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Ehhhh only do it veryyyy sparingly, like when a character is startled and might briefly revert to their native language, or something similar. I just did that in one of my recent fics, actually, and looked up a few Russian words, being super anal about getting it right.... and I still got a comment correcting my Russian, even though it was only like 3 words in the entire thing, with nothing else to say about the rest of the fic... it was a little frustrating :’)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Akatsuki no Yona/Yona of the Dawn. That was the first series that really got me into fandom and making online friends, and gave me the courage to try writing fics; I’m so grateful to it for that, and it still remains one of my favorite mangas <3 Ah, to be able to pump out fics as easily and quickly as I did back then...

What's your favorite fic you've ever written? I think it’s still “Manufactured Hearts, Real Happiness”, the sole Tales of the Abyss fic I’ve written. TotA is my favorite game of all time, and I wrote this for a Tales big bang that happened a while back; it turned out much longer than I ever anticipated, one of my longest fics to date, and pretty much exactly how I wanted it to be, which is always the best feeling... I was so happy to feel like I did my favorite game justice. :’) Now.... my dream is for my current WIP to become my new favorite, if I can pull it off right; we’ll see :’)

Uhhhh I’ll tag @sixtyfourk , @cenally , @arcane-palm , @kyoukalay , @magicmetslogic , and @evevoli03 , if any of you want to do this~

#tag meme #i thought i had a lot of fics but that's nothing compared to you Fiji jfc #i need to get going already.......#so much dgs to write #not enough executive function.......#the amount of DGS ideas i have and the lack of skill to write or draw them is literally killing me inside </3

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writingmyheartsout · 4 years ago

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I’ll be good..(..for all of the times that I never could)

Another fluff December story...this one is sweet and a bit sad...and long (for my own standards). Although the length, it’s an easy read like the rest of the series...i just get wordy sometimes..

An au where Dogma doesn’t get to prison and gets reassigned to the Coruscant Guards.

There may be errors but @plexflexico said it was good so i trust her <3

warnings: sadness, light mention of war, tears

pairing: Dogma x reader

words: almost 2k (so the full story is under the cut)

prompt: standing/sitting quietly together

so anyway, Dogma never had a tag number canonically, so for the sake of the story i made it up.

Flashbacks in italic

As soon as the news was made public, the first thing Dogma thought was to see you, to hold you, to be soothed just like you were able to do... so, as soon as it was possible, he left his station, in spite of orders, and ran, ran through the narrow streets of Coruscant, past all the different levels of the city until he found himself in front of your door, but he didn't have time to even knock that you opened the door.

There were no words, you just stared at each other for a moment and the second after he hugged you there on the doorstep, holding you against him as if he was afraid you might disappear at any minute, burying his face in the crook of your neck and finally breaking into tears. He felt overwhelmed, by everyone and everything, and being in your arms right now was the only happy place he could think of wanting to be. Celebrations would surely follow but none of those mattered to him now, he just craved silence and warmth after all the chaos he had suffered.

When you two first met it was purely by accident, he was on his way to his reassignment to the Coruscant Guards after the whole mess that was Umbara and you were there to make a complaint. In fact, right after the last sweep on the lower levels, your diner had suffered some serious property damage and you were looking for a solution, even if it meant going up to the ground level and pestering some troopers.

Both of you were in the lounge area, you had just done yelling at some young boy whose armor wasn't quite red enough yet, who assured you that one of the Commanders would come down to talk to you and that he was sorry for the whole thing, he was just waiting to be received by Commander Fox himself, with his new armor as pristine and white as the first time he was off Kamino.

"What did you do?" you asked as soon as you entered the room, bored and tired of wasting any more time.

"Excuse me?" he answered in confusion, barely turning his head to look at you and trying to figure out if he had seen you somewhere before.

"I mean, did you break any laws or ... code that all you guys have?" you repeated, not entirely interested in what he might have to say, you were just looking for something to help pass the time.

"They're called regulations" he pointed out in annoyance..." and I don't think it's any of your business why I'm here" he added then, with a visible frown on his face.

"Alright...okay" you gave up, raising your hands in mock surrender "...it was just a question".

He didn't answer you further, due to the fact that another soldier showed up right after, his armor red from head to toe, who called him into his office.

"CT-5390, Dogma..come with me, I already have your new assignment," he instructed authoritatively, he had his helmet tucked under his arm but he still instilled fear.

Then he turned to you briefly, looking you dead in the eyes.

"I heard about your complaint, I'll let you know that Commander Stone will be here in a minute" and with that, he turned around and left.

Dogma, in response, quickly stood up and followed him but not before looking briefly in your direction and politely saying...

"good day, ma'am" followed by a slight nod of his head.

"Are you okay?" you asked him moments later.

He was still in your arms, hugging you as much as he could, refusing to let go of you and he didn't care how tired he might feel, he needed to feel whole again.

"No..." he cried, another sob slipping from him.

"What else can I do to make you feel better?" you pressed again.

" Just hold me... I don't need anything else right now..." he answered quietly, his words slightly muffled by your shirt.

"Okay... but you might catch a cold out here..." you stated.... " get inside, come sit on the couch at least."

"Okay..." he replied, pulling slightly away from you.

He was tired, you could see it on his face, but there was also some kind of relief underneath, a renewed hope that hopefully would turn into a new beginning with him.

Once he was settled on your couch, you remained up in front of him, arms around his neck, watching him softly.

"So tell me, what exactly happened?"

The second time you saw him, he was out patrolling your level with a new squad of troopers, nothing much just overall security, considering that all the main battalions had been sent off to war and two of the Commanders were unavailable, there wasn't much else to do.

You were late for your shift, the second time this week, by this point you already knew that your friend and business partner was going to be very pissed.

It was just a week since you had reopened and things still weren't going so well.

As you tried to send a message while picking up your pace, you didn't notice what was in front of you and soon ran into a hard surface that turned out to be a trooper's armor

"oof...sorry" you quickly apologized..." I didn't see where I was going...I was in a rush"

"Don't worry, ma'am...are you okay?" the trooper in front of you promptly said, taking off his helmet quickly.

"Yeah...I guess," you started to say...but once you got a better look at him, you realized...

"Dogma?..." it slipped out of your mouth even before you could stop yourself, however when you saw his confused expression you added...." I... sorry, I'm good at memorizing names, I remember them very quickly and you probably don't remember me either...".

For the first time in your life, under his curious gaze, you were feeling slightly self-conscious.

"I... I have to say I feel like I know you..." he stuttered out at first, only to regain his composure shortly after"... I'm sorry, I'm still on duty, ma'am... we have to finish our shift for today..." he then said putting his helmet back on.

"Well, yeah sure... I have to get going too anyway, but if you... or the others are tired later, come by my diner, you can't miss it, it's the only one with the bright green sign with a snake on it..." you offered, addressing them all but with your attention still on Dogma, only to run off afterward.

After that he stood there for several seconds more, watching you leave, still baffled that anyone could even remember his name...

That very same night, after they finished their shift, the entire squad came over to your diner and although Dogma was still a little hesitant to let himself go, you still were able to get him to relax a bit.

He heartily smiled at your question...

So much had happened since you'd last seen each other, he'd been gone for weeks and everything had changed in a matter of seconds.

"Where do I start?..." he said.

"Wherever you want... anything you want to tell me," you just told him ... "I'm here to listen, Dogma...like I always do."

Oh, how he had missed you, your patience, the way you talked to him, the way you actually listened no matter what he had to said and the love you had for him that he felt like he didn't always deserve.

"The war is over... but you already know that," he stated.... "it seems like it's always been an inside job," eventually adding more, trying to better explain.

You just nodded to his words, giving him the time to process all the things he had been through.

" Alright, are you okay? And how is everyone else?..." you tried for more, without overstressing him.

"I...I'm fine, I guess," he admitted, wrapping his arms around you again and placing his head on your stomach..." as for the others... I actually don't know, I just...I just heard that all battalions had been ordered to return."

"...and that's good...now, what do you need?" you again asked .... "what can I do for you?"

"I just want to sleep...and keep hugging you, please" he mumbled, eventually calming down.

His pure confession made you chuckle at how honest and lovely it was but watching him relax in your arms made your heart a little tighter.

After that, you met again, rather by chance.

It was at the Guard's general offices, the time he was stationed there handling paperwork and you were there with yet another complaint. What had happened was pretty simple, one of your suppliers was blocked just off the planet and had been denied landing, making your job a lot slower and almost impossible. So the best solution you could think of was going straight to the source and asking what was going on.

When you arrived, there was no one around and the offices were mostly empty except for one, so you tried your luck and went to see if anyone could help you out and fix this mess...

"Hi, is there someone I can ask about a complaint?..." you inquired, peeking into the room.

"Nature of the problem? ..." the trooper replied, visibly annoyed...

"Security...I think..." you began to explain and as you quickly stepped inside... "one of my suppliers has been denied access to the planet, I would like to know why" you continued, asking the man in front of you, although his attention was still on the report in front of him.

"Suspected smuggling most likely...but it could be worse" he vaguely stated.... " freighter model and cargo description?" he then added further still without ever looking up.

"A VCX-100, an old model actually, and it was just my monthly supply of Meiloorun juice and Corellian beer" you pointed out...". Roj is not a smuggler, I've known him since he was a little boy" you replied a little more vehemently, putting both hands on the desk and getting closer to the trooper.

"Now, take a good look at me, and help me sort out this little problem... partly because I don't want any more hassle with you."

"Listen, ma'am..." he began, lifting his head and finally looking at you.... going speechless for a brief moment.

It was you once again, and even though he was dead tired... he felt strangely happy to see you.

"Oh..." you yelped, taken aback to see that it was Dogma "...sorry...".

"No, please...I'm...I was just really tired..." he quickly apologized.... "please, take a seat and tell me again about what happened."

Despite the initial rough start, your problem was quickly solved and on that same day, you also learned how, the trooper called Dogma, was indeed nice and quite talkative, despite an initial wariness. You left the office a few hours later with a smile on your face, but not before leaving him your personal contact…

Days passed after that night, many others after the day that changed all, things around you were now beginning to shift and improve for the better.

When others only saw a traitor once, someone who wasn’t worthy enough love and attention, you saw a man who loved too much and ended up broken, a man who needed directions and assurance, not just orders and rules, a man who now was free from everything that used to hold him back and ready to live once again.

For this personal fluff December i wanted to do more, but time and real life is not by my side...so that means that there will be just another one (i have to choose who..) Unfortunately i don’t cope very well with stress so i usually write small...

Anyway, hope you like it :)

reblogs, comments or just generals interactions are welcome :)

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #current fandom: star wars the clone wars #dogma x reader #dogma needs more love #dogma is underrated #i love him very much your honor #clone wars fanfics #star wars fanfiction #star wars writing #writemyheartsout's writing

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

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Triple Threat

Here it is, the 500 followers special, posted hot off the presses as promised because not only did I hit 500 followers before the poll even closed, I’m now at 520! My mind is blown. Thank you all for sticking around this little corner of the lukanette trash heap and especially for all your replies/comments/reblogs, I covet every single one.

So you guys voted and you wanted to see Multimouse flirting with Viperion, and Marinette flirting with Viperion was a very close runner up, so I decided to do both, and I threw in a little Viperbug flirting for you just because I love you. So I hope you enjoy, and extra love to @livrever for giving me a sanity check when I needed it because y’all, I love you so much I wrote an akuma for you and even though most of the battle happened off-screen I still wasn’t sure whether the whole thing would hang together or not.

I hate long author’s notes and this one is already wordy, but I just want to say again, thank you for being here and I appreciate all 520 of you that are here now and everyone who stumbles on this in the future.

“Stupid Chat,” Ladybug muttered to herself between swings. “Stupid, overprotective Chat, making everything more complicated than it needs to be because of this stupid identity bullshit again and why am I still keeping up this ridiculousness now that Master Fu’s gone I have no idea…”

She ought to be grateful, she knew. Later, she would be touched by Chat’s affection and protectiveness towards her civilian self, but right now it was just a pain in her red-and-black spotted ass. Fortunately, the akuma knew her name but not much else about her, which meant Chat was able to fool it into following him on a wild goose chase to buy Ladybug time to get help that they didn’t actually need but whatever.

But it was fine. This was fine. She had a plan. In the three years that she’d been Ladybug she’d gotten very good at thinking on her feet. She tried not to call on Viperion too often, because it seemed like a bad idea to muck around with time too much, but the fact was, his power was both incredibly useful and incredibly reassuring for her.

And, either because Luka was older or perhaps because he was simply more mature than the rest of the team, he’d been the first to push his powers past his original time limit, and he still had the longest time limit on the team, though he wasn’t anywhere near the unlimited time that supposedly came with being “an adult.” Marinette had questioned Tikki about that, whether it was a question of physical maturity or mental maturity or both, but it turned out that questioning a being as old as Tikki about the minutiae of human growth was...frustrating. Tikki’s concept of time was colored by her nearly-eternal perspective, and the markers of adulthood changed and shifted over the centuries.

In any case, second chances were all too scarce in her life and it was only the knowledge that all magic had a price and the fear that there had to be a catch somewhere kept her from calling on it more frequently.

Seeing the Captain and Juleka both on deck, Ladybug crouched on the bank and squinted. It looked like Juleka and Luka’s room was empty, so she should be able to just slip through the porthole if she timed it right.

Well, regardless of whatever method the Miraculous used to measure adultness, Marinette thought as she made her way through the porthole with some Miraculous-aided acrobatics, Luka had matured in the three years they’d known each other both mentally, and...and physically...oh dear. Ladybug gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth, which did absolutely nothing to salvage the situation, since her eyes were still wide and staring.

Luka was standing in the doorway in his boxers, hair dripping into the towel around his shoulders, a faint blush growing on his face. “Ladybug. I wasn’t expecting you. Obviously.”

Ladybug yelped and turned her back, this time slapping her hands over her eyes, though too late to do either of them any good. “I’m sorry!” Ladybug cried. “I just—your family was on deck and I didn’t want anyone to see me coming in and the room was empty so I thought I could just—but I didn’t expect you to—“‘

“It’s fine,” Luka chuckled weakly, and she could hear him moving around behind her. “Nothing you wouldn’t see at the beach. Living in a house full of girls I don’t actually make it a practice to run around naked. You can look now.”

“Good. Sound policy,” Ladybug managed, like she wasn’t dying of embarrassment. She dropped her hands and turned around and then bit the inside of her cheek to keep in another scream. He had his jeans on now but he was still digging through a pile of shirts on the end of his bed and she was staring at his bare back. Which wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, really, but only when she was prepared and had Alya to smack her if she started...staring. Not ogling. Definitely not.

“I’m assuming you need me for something?” he prompted, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yes! Uh…” Ladybug shook herself back to reality and outlined the situation. How there had been a big design contest this week and one of the losers was taking it badly and had it out for the winner, a girl named—

“Marinette?” Luka turned to look at her sharply, now fully clothed (which, it turned out, helped less than it should have since knowing what he looked like under the shirt made her more than able to trace the lines his body made in it NOT THAT SHE WAS OH GOD) “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Ah, yes,” Ladybug said, surprised enough to be shocked out of her absolutely-not-ogling. “You, um...know her?”

“Yes, of course I do. If Marinette’s in trouble, I’ll do anything you need,” Luka declared, a fire in his eyes that almost made her step back. Ladybug paused and studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Can you do this, Luka?” Ladybug asked, folding her arms. “The last thing I need is to suddenly be facing an akumatized Viperion with time reset powers. I know you guys are friends but if you’re more than that I need to know now.” What was she doing? It was a good thing she was still blushing from earlier. Why was she asking this, she knew he was over her, she was like a little sister to him and—wait, was he blushing?

Luka looked away, but she was sure she saw red in his face. “We’re just friends,” he said softly. “Even if I sometimes wish we were more.” He glanced at her, and his blush deepened as he dropped his eyes again. “Maybe more than sometimes. I can do this, Ladybug. I won’t let my feelings for Marinette interfere. I promise.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping a lid on it.”

“Oh,” Ladybug blinked. “I see.” She...wasn’t as surprised as she should be. Luka had never really made a secret of his feelings, but even if she hadn’t quite believed herself every time she told herself he was over her, she hadn’t expected him to be so...passionate about it. Especially after all this time. Especially after everything that had happened. “Well—well okay, if you think you can do this then I trust you.” She held out the box.

Luka took the bracelet, greeted Sass briefly and transformed as Ladybug continued her instructions.

“I wanted to just hide Marinette but Chat thinks she needs more protection. He’s distracting the akuma now. You pick Marinette up at her home and keep her with you. Obviously, you’ll use Second Chance to keep her safe, but it might also take a few tries for Rena to get the illusion right, so you’ll also need to be in position to observe and report.” She couldn’t help a smile, feeling a rush of affection as the familiar green eyes blinked back at her. “I trust your judgement, so I’m not going to micromanage you; figure out what works and do it. Here’s the catch, though.” She folded her arms. “I won’t be there. I can’t explain to you why. Once the akuma’s focus is off Marinette, take her home, and proceed to Phase Two.” She continued giving him instructions and he listened attentively, asking only a few questions.

Luka nodded as she finished. “I won’t let you down,” he said firmly.

“You never have,” Ladybug smiled, and Luka looked...flattered? Almost shy. And that was kind of weird. Luka was reserved, sure, but never shy.

People did seem to find Ladybug intimidating, though. And it was kind of...cute. “You know,” she found herself saying as she strolled closer to him. “I think this Marinette girl’s awfully lucky to have caught your eye. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help. I know I do.” Ladybug gave him a slow smile. She reached up and touched his mask with two fingers. Viperion’s eyes widened slightly. “I think I prefer blue eyes to green though.”

“Me too,” he said almost absently, searching her face, and she thought she saw a hint of color just below the line of his mask. That made her smile wider.

“It’s a bit of a complicated plan today, but I think you can handle it. Good luck.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, and before Luka could react, she dove out of the porthole, yo-yo catching just in time to send her skimming away above the water.

Luka—Viperion, now—swallowed hard, swaying slightly in place. Because it was a plain fact that Ladybug was hot, as well as strong, smart as a whip, and tough as nails. All things that very much appealed to him, even if his heart was still given elsewhere, and he...didn’t quite know what to do with the last few minutes.

Viperion shook himself. He had more important things to worry about.

...Starting with how to leave the boat without being seen by his family. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ladybug had caught him off guard this morning, and between having just woken up and running into Ladybug in his underwear—not to mention whatever that was just now—he was feeling a little off balance. It should have occurred to him to wait until he was off the boat to transform.

Well, he’d figure something out. It sounded like his job was simple enough. He wasn’t super happy about having Marinette actually at the battle site, but he could see Chat’s point; it was the only way they knew she was absolutely protected and the akuma couldn’t pull a double-fake on them to come back for her. It had happened before. Hanging back with him, Marinette would be as protected as possible, out of sight of the villain to keep her from accidentally interfering with Rena’s illusion, with Second Chance as a backup if something went wrong.

Somehow, he just had to try and not be too Luka around Marinette. Best to keep things chill and aloof if he could, he supposed.

Viperion could see her on her balcony as he approached, that would help. His last leap took him soaring in a flip to land on her balcony railing with a bit more show than was probably necessary.

“Marinette?” he smiled. “Nice to meet you. Ladybug told you to expect me, I hope?”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed, blinking up at him. “She said she was sending someone but not who. You’re...you’re Viperion, right?” Her big blue eyes were round in her face. “You’re like—the most mysterious of all the heroes. You’re hardly ever on the Ladyblog.”

“Not mysterious, just...quiet,” Viperion smiled with a shrug, feeling a little warm suddenly beneath his mask as he hopped off the rail. “I’m not really a front line fighter like Chat. I do my best work behind the scenes.”

“Really? But you’re so strong—” Marinette’s eyes traveled down his body, rather blatantly checking him out. “Wow,” she breathed. “I thought the suit was just armored, but that’s actually you.”

Viperion shifted a little uncomfortably under her gaze. Not that he minded, just...it was Marinette and she’d never looked at him like that before and...he kinda liked it.

Okay, he really liked it.

But Ladybug was counting on him to be professional.

Viperion cleared his throat. “Did Ladybug brief you on the plan?”

Marinette nodded, still studying him though her expression turned serious. “Yes. I’m supposed to stick to you like glue and follow any orders you give.”

Viperion nodded. “We’ll be out of the main battle so you shouldn’t be in any danger, but that last part is really important. You’re a smart girl though so I’m not worried.” Much. He offered her a hand. “We should go so we’re in place before Chat gets there.”

Marinette met his eyes and—shit, there went his traitor heart, suddenly galloping a mile a minute. Help me out here, Sass, he thought desperately, but his pulse continued to pound as Marinette put her hand in his and smiled up at him. Shyly, but also...mischievously? Her lips twitched just slightly, like they wanted to twist in a smirk, and crap why was he even looking at her lips, look away, Luka.

If she smirked at him now he’d never be able to keep his cool.

Taking a deep breath and hoping against hope that he wasn’t blushing too obviously, he tugged her closer to him and dropped her hand to put his on her back. “May I?” he asked, and when she nodded he lifted Marinette in his arms and settled her close against him, making sure he had a firm grip. She put one arm around his neck but ran her other hand across his chest, firm enough for him to feel the pressure even through the suit. His breath caught as she exclaimed “Cool! The material’s so different from Chat’s. Neat texture.” Her tone turned flirtatious. “Fits you really well too.”

“Ah—” He couldn’t think.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him and looking not sorry at all. “I’m a fashion designer. You’re—inspiring.” She used the arm around his neck to pull herself up to look in his face, and he had to adjust his grip quickly. “I have to tell you I love your mask.” And there was the smirk, even more devastating at close range as she ran her fingertips along the bottom of his mask.

Viperion felt dizzy as she settled back again with a cheerful, “Ready when you are!”

***

She wouldn’t stop touching him. Tracing the lines of his suit where the different materials met, outlining the yellow diamond on his chest with one finger, not-so-subtly feeling up his arm…

Chill and aloof was obviously not going to be an option, he admitted to himself. He needed a new plan.

When her fingers traced his collar, actually brushed his skin at the hollow of his throat, he stumbled and nearly dropped her, landing hard on his knees.

“Are you okay?” she gasped, snatching her hand back guiltily.

“I’m fine.” Viperion sighed and set her down, getting to his feet and brushing off his knees before turning to face her, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say without hurting her feelings.

He thought he understood what was going on. Marinette was always under a huge amount of stress. Pretty as she was, she didn’t get out much, and probably didn’t get to do a lot of flirting. She wouldn’t flirt with him—Luka him—because she knew he had feelings for her and she worried about leading him on. She couldn’t flirt with Adrien, partly because he was dating her friend and largely because she could still barely speak a coherent word to him.

As Viperion, he was a safe option. Marinette spent too much time lonely and sad. As far as she was concerned, she’d only just met Viperion, and when the mission was over he would disappear. She didn’t have to follow through on anything she said to him. Nothing she did raised any expectations. She didn’t have to worry about leading him on or breaking his heart. The situation must be frustrating for her. She was a doer. Being a spectator at best and a victim at worst in this situation, it made total sense that she would need something else to think about and focus on, a chance to blow off a little steam without consequences.

And honestly, Luka was fine with indulging her. It fed his ego that she found him attractive enough to flirt with, even tease, but more importantly, if he could make Marinette happy, he wanted to. If he could make her feel pretty and valued and wanted, like the attractive young woman she was but never seemed to have time to be, then he wanted to, even if he had to wear a mask.

There was just one little problem.

“Marinette,” he said, as gently as he could, “I get that you’re interested in the suit and I’m more happy to let you look at it, but first I’d like to get us where we’re going without faceplanting us both into the pavement, okay?”

“Right,” Marinette said, looking horrified and completely embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I should have known better, if course you’re a professional and I’m being horrible, aren’t I, making you uncomfortable when you’re just trying to do your job—“

Well, that wouldn’t do. He placed two fingers over her lips.

“Don’t be sorry,” he told her when she stopped talking, and chucked her under the chin gently. “I don’t mind you touching me at all. In fact—“ he leaned into her space, just a little. “I like it. Certainly worse things than having a hot girl put her hands on me, even if it’s just for the suit.” He gave her an appreciative look and a wink and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush. “I just don’t want you to be hurt. Ladybug’s counting on me to keep you safe after all.”

He could see instantly that it was the wrong thing to say, though he couldn’t fathom why. The color creeping up her face drained away and her smile turned plastic.

��Right,” Marinette said cheerfully, but the sound was hollow. “Wouldn’t want to let Ladybug down.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Vierion repeated, putting his hand on her shoulder, all playfulness gone as he hunched slightly to look into her face. “Ever, but definitely not on my watch. Marinette, it would kill me if anything happened to you because I was distracted. And you can be…” He gave her a lopsided grin and a quick up and down look. “Very distracting.”

She hunched her shoulders slightly, blushing, in a way that took him back to another time when he’d felt the urgent need to tell her how important she was. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said warmly, squeezing her shoulder before letting go. “You can check out the suit as much as you want when we get where we’re going.”

“Right,” she breathed as he picked her up again. She put her arms around his neck and tucked her head down, pressing her eyes against his neck. “Because it was totally all about the suit.”

Viperion chuckled. “You can check me out too if you want, I don’t mind.”

He cradled her a little tighter as he ran, aware his heart was pounding from more than the run.

***

“There you go, Marinette. We made it.” Viperion let her feet drop, keeping his arm around her back. Marinette slid down his body until her feet touched the ground, her arms still around his neck. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Rena Rouge,” he added, gesturing at the hero in question. “Rena, Marinette.”

“Hi,” Marinette said, sliding around to his side as she hunched her shoulders and waved with an awkward smile. “Um, sorry about all the trouble here.”

“It’s not your fault, Marinette,” Viperion said warmly, squeezing her against his side before Rena could even speak.

Rena was looking at them with raised eyebrows. “You two are certainly...friendly,” she commented.

“Are we?” Viperion said, lips twitching with the effort not to laugh as he looked down at Marinette still pressed against his side. “Sorry if I’m being too familiar,” he told her insincerely. She covered a giggle herself as he continued, “It’s just, well.” He gave Marinette a sly grin and a wink. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is a bit of a mouthful.”

She looked up at him with a wicked twinkle in her pretty eyes. “I think you could handle it.”

He had to look away for just a moment before he could keep a straight face as he told her in a low voice, “I’d certainly try if you wanted me to.” Marinette giggled again behind her hand.

Rena’s eyebrows looked likely to shoot off her head entirely. “Well, it certainly seems like there’s something going on here that I missed.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Viperion shrugged as Marinette unplastered herself from his side and wrapped her hands around his bicep instead.

Probably fortunately, Chat showed up right then and ran through the plan again. Marinette continued clinging to Viperion’s arm throughout the briefing, which got looks from both Rena and Chat, but Viperion’s face remained impassive.

“Don’t get distracted,” Chat warned him before leaping away.

Marinette snorted softly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Viperion coughed to cover an embarrassed laugh.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” he remarked.

Marinette perked up a little bit, squeezing his arm. “Do you work out? Or is it just part of being a hero? Do magic muscles come with the suit?”

Viperion laughed as he reached back for his lyre and shook his earpiece out of its compartment. “A little more strength, yeah, but no extra magic muscles. Let’s just say I lead an active lifestyle.”

“One that includes a lot of time in the sun,” Marinette giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You’re pretty tanned. You definitely didn’t get that from being a hero.”

“Kind of hard to sunbathe in the suit,” Viperion agreed, running a finger along the edge of his mask. “Leaves awkward tan lines.”

Marinette buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her laugh. “So the tan goes all the way down then?” she asked, when she could.

Viperion smirked at her. “Yep. All the way.” Marinette turned red and sputtered, and he looked away, grinning as he slipped his earpiece into place. Went a little further than you meant to, didn’t you? he thought with amusement. Too bad for you Couffaines have no shame. “Chat, Rena, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Gotcha, Scales.”

“Let me know when you’re in position,” he said, and then movement caught his eye.

“Akuma,” he said urgently, growing serious at once. He put his arm out to move Marinette behind him, and felt her hands on his back as she moved close. “Here we go,” he said grimly. “Second Chance.” He slid the snake head back and touched his communicator. “Chat, Rena, she’s here. Checkpoint set. Round one.”

Marinette’s hands moved over his back and down to his sides, and he sucked in a breath as they slid up the smoother texture of the darker panels on his side. “This part is kind of like Chat’s suit,” she murmured. “But this part must be armored,” she ran her hands forward over the ridged teal armor over his belly.

Dear God, what had he gotten himself into?

She must have noticed his tension. “You said I could touch you,” she reminded him.

He had to swallow before he could answer. “I did.”

“Did you change your mind?”

Luka closed his eyes for a moment. He’d always known she was attracted to him but it wasn’t a thought he normally allowed himself to indulge in much. It just made knowing she didn’t actually want him worse. If he wanted to back out, now was the time. “No,” he said finally. “It’s okay.”

Viperion drew back slightly as the akuma passed by below them. He felt Marinette peek over his shoulder.

“Oh, she’s scary,” Marinette whispered, and pressed her face into the back of his neck. “You’re sure you can’t see us?”

He turned his head toward her for just a moment and leaned it on hers. “It’s fine, we’re out of sight. Don’t be scared, we’re all here to protect you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not scared if I’m with you.”

He had to shift his position to cover the shiver that sent through him. The akuma was past them now and Rena was casting her illusion.

She ran her fingers through the tips of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Your hair’s so soft. Guess a Miraculous dye job will do that, huh?”

Oh, that felt amazing, but Viperion could see the akuma shriek and begin to flee. “Second Chance,” he breathed. A flash of white, and then he gave his debrief over the comm so that Rena could adjust her illusion. Then Marinette’s hands were sliding up his sides again.

It took nine resets before Rena got her illusion refined enough to fool the Akuma into thinking she’d gotten her revenge on Marinette and for Chat to successfully lure her away. Nine times he recounted the battle over the comms and suggested changes.

Nine times he’d steadfastly kept his attention on the akuma while he let Marinette run her hands over his sides, up his belly and chest. Nine times he felt her press her face to the back of his neck and rest her cheek on his back while she toyed with his hair. He knew every line of her teasing by heart. His own varied, partially depending on his own sense of whether he was going to have to reset again. The only reason he hadn’t just given in and kissed her (or tackled her to the floor, if he was honest) was the combined knowledge that his friends were still in harm's way and that Sass would give him a lecture about the responsibilities that came with time powers.

He was maybe wound a little bit tight by the time he took her home.

“Well,” he said, setting her down on her balcony. “Here we are, beautiful. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” she asked, not unhooking her arms from around his neck.

“I’ve never enjoyed an akuma battle so much,” he told her, voice low, one hand sliding onto her hip while the other gripped the railing behind him in a desperate attempt to ground himself before he did something stupid. “Whoever catches your heart will be one lucky guy.”

“Thanks for being my hero today,” she smiled up at him through her lashes, a pretty pink tinting her cheeks the only warning he got that she was about to wreck him again. “I think a kiss is the traditional reward?”

“I don’t hold with those kinds of traditions,” he said a little roughly, hand tightening on the rail behind him. “But if you want to kiss me, I’m not about to say no.”

“If I do, are you going to kiss me back?” she asked, and though her tone was teasing her eyes were anxious.

Viperion hummed thoughtfully, the hand on her hip sliding around to press into her lower back, pulling her closer. “I guess that’s just a chance you’ll have to take. If you decide you want to.”

“I want to,” she breathed, and he bent down until his forehead touched hers, eyes on hers the whole time. He felt her breath hitch and closed his eyes, waiting, as always, for her to choose, and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t racing just at the thought.

Her fingertips touched his cheek, hesitating, and then her palm fitted itself to the curve. It occurred to him to be glad he’d had time to shave before Ladybug showed up. He did kiss her back and she grew more confident, pressing into him, and the next thing he knew her hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth and he made an extremely unheroic noise even as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her up into him.

Viperion’s bracelet beeped and he felt Marinette sigh as she pulled back from him. “That means you have to go, right?”

“I, um,” he blinked as she began to back away from him and his hands slid from her back to her arms, and then to her hands, which softly squeezed before letting go completely.

“Please be safe, Viperion,” she said, her brow creasing as she undoubtedly remembered that he still had an akuma to defeat. Viperion swallowed and shook his head quickly, mustering a Chat-worthy grin that was entirely fake.

“Don’t worry,” he winked. “That Akuma’s not even close to being the most dangerous thing I’ve been around today. I’ll be fine. Go inside now and stay there until Ladybug does her thing, okay?” Viperion turned away quickly, pulling in a deep breath before he vaulted over the balcony railing.

***

His bracelet beeped a final warning about three rooftops later. He quickly found a place in the shadow of the building’s roof entry hutch and put his back against the wall. His transformation released and he met Sass’s highly amused eyes before he put his hands on his face and slid to the ground with a muffled whine.

Sass’s hissing laughter was deeply unhelpful.

“Sass,” Luka said from behind his hands. “What the hell was that?”

“At a guess,” Sass replied, smirking—Luka didn’t have to look at him to know it—“Hormonesss.”

Luka slid his hands down to glare at Sass over his fingers. “That’s your input? Ladybug and Marinette both decide to try and make me combust today and the best you’ve got is hormones?”

Sass laughed at him again and Luka groaned.

“What do you wissssh me to sssay?” the kwami chuckled. “I have myssself heard Ladybug refer to Viperion as a ‘ssssnack.’ I don’t sssee any reason Marinette should think differently. Unless I mistake the meaning of the word in this contexsst, that should be ssssufficient anssswer.” He flicked his tail. “Ssssspeaking of which.”

Luka groaned. “I could have lived without knowing that, thanks.” He pulled the little baggie full of chopped hardboiled egg out of his pocket and tossed it to the kwami without even looking. “Eat fast, we have to go meet Ladybug’s other contact.”

Sass just chuckled and pulled the bag open.

***

She didn’t have a lot of time, she was on a schedule, but Marinette couldn’t resist throwing herself on her bed and squealing into her pillow. Then she rolled over onto her back. “I can’t believe I did all that,” she gasped, fingers flying to her lips “What’s wrong with me?”

Tikki floated nearby, giggling. “You like Luka, Marinette, you know you do. I think you just felt a little bit bolder knowing he was wearing the mask.” She flew close and poked Marinette’s cheek. “Was it everything you thought it would be.”

Tikki zipped back quickly as Marinette pulled her pillow back over her red face and squealed into it again. She never thought she would be bold enough to do such things, but...but it felt good. And Luka...he’d been thrown at first, clearly, but then he’d rolled with it, because Luka was super good at rolling with things, even, apparently, if those things included her touching him and teasing him and flirting and trading innuendo she never could have spoken to his unmasked face.

Would it...be like that? If it wasn’t Marinette and Viperion, but Marinette and Luka, and they were in a relationship, is that...is that how it would feel? Not awkward and embarrassing, but...fun and teasing and exciting. Was that how it felt when you liked someone who liked you back? Would he look at her like that every day with those soft eyes, and talk to her in that warm, low voice, and stand with his arm around her, pulling her close into his side, and...and let her kiss him like that...or maybe kiss her like—

She felt Tikki land on her head and pat her hair. “Come on Marinette! You’d better get ready for the next part. You don’t want to keep Viperion waiting,” she finished in a singsong.

“Right,” Marinette sighed. She got off her bed and pulled the Miracle Box out from under it. As soon as it opened, she picked up the mouse Miraculous and weighed it thoughtfully in her hand. It had been a couple of years since Multimouse’s last appearance. Surely she was safe to try it again. Mylène had done a great job with it but she was out of the country on one of her eco projects for the moment, so it was up to Marinette.

Not that she minded the chance to work with Viperion a little longer. Not that she minded at all.

Marinette put on the necklace and smiled at Mullo, eyes sparkling. Moments later, she was leaping off her balcony in the familiar pink and grey suit, on her way to meet Viperion, her heart beating with anticipation.

***

Viperion was leaning against a wall, idly strumming his lyre and daydreaming about Marinette, when his mission partner hit the roof and rolled to her feet. It took him a moment to totally focus on her but when he did it took all of his natural stoicism to keep his jaw from dropping.

That...was not the mouse he expected.

Holy shit.

Until today, Luka would have denied that he had a type, but God. Clearly he was weak for tiny blue-eyed dynamos with dark hair. He’d never seen eyes that could kill like that except on Marinette. Her suit was fitted like Ladybug’s rather than padded and armored like his or Chat’s or Carpace’s, or flared like Rena’s. While all the boys had gotten used to seeing, or avoiding seeing, Ladybug’s curves in the suit, Viperion suddenly realized that the red and black spotted pattern did a much better job of distracting from the more subtle lines of her body, and the new mouse’s light grey suit...did not.

She cleared her throat, and he realized that he was staring at her abs and straightened off the wall, tucking his lyre away.

“Sorry, I was expecting someone else,” he said as smoothly as he could, offering his hand. “Viperion.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said brightly, shaking his hand and then planting one hand on her cocked hip and saluting with the other. “I’m afraid your regularly scheduled mouse couldn’t be here today, so I’m Multimouse, at your service.” She winked one big blue eye and Viperion’s knees went weak.

He decided he was taking a very long, very cold shower when he got home. Assuming he survived. The universe really had it in for him today.

Well it’s a hell of a way to go, he thought to himself, taking a steadying breath.

“Happy to work with you,” Viperion smiled. “I’m sure Ladybug briefed you on the plan, any questions?”

“Plenty,” she grinned with another devastating wink. “But we’re supposed to be working.”

Viperion folded his arms and smirked despite the heat he felt in his face. “I’m almost afraid to ask if there’s anything I should know.”

“Just follow my lead, handsome,” she grinned, turning away as she unlooped her jump rope belt with an entirely unnecessary swing of her hips. “Think you can do that?”

Oh, Mousey was a flirt. He grinned. “I’ll certainly enjoy trying,” he murmured, quiet enough that she could ignore it if she chose.

Instead Multimouse looked back at him over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “I know you’ve had a long day already, so just let me know if you get tired.”

Viperion chuckled. “I think I’m getting my second wind,” he winked. “By all means, after you.”

“Catch me if you can, handsome!” Multimouse swung from the building and Viperion took a running leap after her.

Multimouse led him to a warehouse, and after he smashed the lock, they slipped inside. It was deserted and Chat was supposed to be keeping the akuma occupied and after his ring, but there was no harm in being cautious. “You’re a handy partner to have,” Multimouse said, looping one arm through his. “This plan shouldn’t be difficult at all.”

“Ladybug did the hard work,” Viperion commented. “I’m just the muscle today. Have to hand it to her, she’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

“Ooh, watch your phrasing,” Multimouse winced, swinging her hip into him. “Remember your company, handsome.”

“Sorry,” Viperion chuckled. “You’re right, poor choice of words.”

“If you’re nice for the rest of the mission maybe I’ll let you make it up to me,” Multimouse teased, fingers curling around his bicep. “Hmm, Ladybug knew what she was doing.”

Viperion plucked her hand off him. “Don’t do that, please.”

“Oh,” her eyes widened slightly, the first sign of hesitancy he’d seen from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Viiperion told her, squeezing the hand he was still holding before letting go. “I’d just rather we keep this hands off, if you don’t mind. No hard feelings.”

“Sure,” Multimouse perked up again, though he thought he saw a hint of pink under her mask.

“Can’t say I mind being on pretty girl detail for the day,” he said lightly, hoping to put her back at ease. “Where to, ma’am? I’m supposed to follow your lead.”

“This way,” Multimouse tugged him towards a corridor. “The akuma victim rents a space back here to use for her studio. Ladybug wants us to get there, take a look around, and see if we can get the akumatized item. She thinks it’s probably boobytrapped, so that’s where I come in. You’ll set second chance before I go just in case anything goes wrong.”

Viperion followed her and they started slowly down the long, echoey hallway. So much for stealth, he thought, wincing slightly. Multimouse must have thought so too because while she kept her alert posture, she smiled back at him and said, “So, did you know that you came up second on the Ladyblog’s Hottest Hero: Male Edition survey?”

Viperion chuckled awkwardly, trying not to blush. “Chat’s hard to compete with,” he replied with a crooked smile.

“You were robbed, if you ask me,” Multimouse said in a conversational tone, winking at him when he glanced over at her. She really needs to stop doing that. He swallowed and took a slow breath before he answered her. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of belly breathing today.

“Everybody has their own taste,” Viperion shrugged. “Guess not everybody goes for ‘mysterious, aloof, and quiet.’”

“You read your own profile?” Multimouse giggled.

“I was curious,” he grinned. “Haven’t you read yours?”

“Don’t have one,” Multimouse held up her hands and pretended to pout. “I’m so overlooked.”

“I can’t imagine anyone overlooking you.”

“Ooh, flatterer,” she giggled, and then sobered. “This is actually only my second time out. The first time was years ago and it didn’t end so great.”

“Really? That surprises me. You seem so natural,” Viperion said, following her down the corridor.

“Why thank you,” Multimouse grinned over her shoulder at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Marinette, he reminded himself firmly, although she technically had no claim on him and he certainly had none on her. He blew out another breath, and then inhaled deeply—and abruptly wrinkled his nose. “Fabric dye,” he muttered. He’d been over to Marinette’s once while she was dying fabric and even with her windows open the smell had driven him up to her balcony.

“Yes, this is the place,” Multimouse confirmed. She opened the door a crack and peeked inside, and Viperion readied himself to jerk her back in case of any unexpected surprises. “You don’t have to go any further,” she said, her flirtatious air gone and replaced with an intense focus that impressed him. “I know you hate the smell. Multitude!”

Viperion looked at her sharply but was blinded by the light of her power activating. He took a step back as she glowed brightly, and when he could see again, his partner was gone. He looked down to see the Multimice grinning up at him. One of them waved him down. Viperion knelt and put his hand down. One of the Multimice climbed onto his palm and he lifted her to his face. “I’ll stay with you,” she said cheerfully, hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.”

Viperion chuckled. “Welcome aboard.” He brought his hand up to his shoulder and the Multimouse hopped up.

“The rest of me will go scout and report back,” she said, and then pointed to his bracelet. “If you could?”

“Second Chance.” Viperion slid the bracelet back.

The Multimice still on the floor blew him a kiss in unison, and then ran off in different directions. Viperion couldn’t help a smile, though he directed it at the ground. She—they? were really too cute.

“So,” Multimouse said, reclining on her side along his shoulder and propping her face on one hand, “Just you and me now. Does my handsome partner have a girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend,” he sighed, a wistful smile taking over his face. “Just a girl. One amazing girl. You’re cute, Mousey, and I’m sure you’ve got a style of amazing all your own, but my girl...she’s not my girl, she doesn’t like me that way, but...anyway, there’s no one like her. Not even Ladybug.” He looked at her and she jumped, shutting her mouth quickly and looking down as she ran her finger across the texture of his suit. “You? Anyone special in your life?”

“Hmm,” Multimouse twirled her jump rope absently. “Sort of. It’s...complicated.” She sighed dreamily. “And I really wish it wasn’t, because I really do like him. He’s sweet and talented and thoughtful...insightful, really.” She sat up, crossing her legs, and reached up to pinch his cheek, which felt really funny considering how small she was. “Almost as handsome as you. Nice muscles, too, though he doesn’t show them off nearly enough.” She bounced her foot and seemed to consider what she was about to say. “I thought I’d missed my chance though. I kept him waiting for a long time, and—” She looked at him, and then looked away quickly. “I was pretty sure he didn’t feel that way about me anymore, but...I’m starting to wonder if…” He turned his head slightly so that he could see her face better. She was smiling softly down at the jump rope in her hand, biting her full lower lip and blushing. Viperion smiled.

“Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then,” he said, shrugging his shoulder just enough to jostle her slightly. “If he’s been waiting all that time, then he’s probably not going to make a move unless you do. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?”

Multimouse frowned, blinking at him. “But if he was still into me, wouldn’t he keep trying? Other...other guys have…”

Luka snorted softly. “Would you like him if he was like ‘other guys?’”

“I’d like him if he was like you,” Multimouse purred, leaning against his neck.

“Right, okay,” Viperion chuckled. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, if you are interested, then you’re going to have to make a move, because if he does still have feelings for you, he’s trying to respect you by keeping them to himself.” He turned his face toward her and winked. “Food for thought. Though I’m sure a girl like you has plenty of options.”

“Aw, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you turn down.”

Luka chuckled. “Believe me, if it weren’t for M—my girl, I’d be first in line.”

Multimouse squeaked and nearly fell backwards off of his shoulder, and Luka bit his lip in a vain effort to contain his grin.

“Need a hand?” he asked, careful not to move.

“No, I’m good!” she gasped, clawing her way back up the seams of his suit. Then she turned her head and brightened. “Oh, here I come!”

The Minimice—nope, Viperion immediately crossed that name out in his mind—the Manymice—no, that was practically the same as Multimice. Copymice? Okay that just sounded dumb. This is why I let Rose write the lyrics, ugh. The Multimice returned, each of them with their arms full of...yarn? Viperion knelt and his Multimouse jumped down from his shoulder. They chattered amongst themselves, talking so fast that Viperion couldn’t quite keep up, and then they lined up and began knotting their pieces of yarn together.

One of them (he wasn’t sure if it was the same one that had been with him all this time; he wished they came in different colors or something so he could tell them apart) turned to him and said, “The akumatized object is defended by a weird sort of...maze made of yarn. Like one of those laser grids you see in spy movies? We’re pretty sure that if we can get above it, we can drop down through the maze. I’m not sure what the strands do but we’d just as soon not find out! I think we’ve got enough pieces here to reach from those girders up there.” She pointed up and Viperion looked up to the girders crossing the warehouse-style ceiling.

“Are you sure it’ll hold?” Viperion frowned. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“Check it,” Multimouse winked at him, holding it up. Viperion took yarn and held it up, inspecting the knots. His eyebrows went up.

“You know your knots,” he said, tugging the yarn carefully. The knots tightened and held. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Oh,” the mini Multimouse’s eyes went wide, and she blushed under her mask. “Umm...a friend taught me.”

“Your special friend?” Viperion teased, “Maybe more special than you said if he taught you knots like these.”

“It is not like that,” Multimouse insisted, growing pinker. She folded her arms and looking away from him. “He spends a lot of time around boats, that’s all. Maybe I should ask how you know them.”

“I’ve spent a little bit of time on boats as well,” Viperion chuckled. “Well, it looks pretty good. I think it should work. Everybody grab on, let’s give it a quick test and make sure it’ll hold your weights.”

The Multimice all grabbed onto the yarn rope in a line, and Luka carefully lifted it by one end, his other hand ready to catch anybody that fell. Finally all of the mice were off the ground, the end of the rope hovering an inch or so above the floor. “Okay,” Viperion nodded. “Okay, looks good. Nice work. I’ll take you up.” He looked up to the steel girders criss-crossing above him and then around, planning his route up.

It took some fumbling but after a few minutes, Viperion got to his feet with his arms full of clinging Multimice. “Everybody good?” he asked. “If you don’t feel secure, now’s the time to say.”

“We’re good!” chorused the girls, and Viperion chuckled, then looked up again and took a deep breath.

“Okay, here we go. One...two…” He felt them grip tighter. “Three!” Viperion leapt, resisting the instinct to use his arms for balance and momentum, and made it up to the steel crossbeam. He blew out a slow breath, relieved as he let the Multimice carefully down on the girder.

“Well done,” one said, patting his hand with a sympathetic look, and Viperion smiled tightly, a little more adrenaline in his system than he wanted to admit to from the effort of getting up here without dropping or crushing anyone.

“Be careful,” he said as the Multimice walked along the girder until they were all gathered above the glowing yarn maze, looking down into the center. Luka followed, careful not to knock anyone off as he looked down.

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Multimouse teased.

“Not at all,” Luka chuckled, sitting down on the girder and hanging his legs off as he looked down. “What is that? It looks like a stapler.”

“It’s a bedazzler,” said Multimouse, and all of them wrinkled their noses at once. “How cheap. Did she really think she was going to pass that off in front of those judges? Audrey Bourgeois might be the queen of glitter but I guarantee you the stuff she uses costs at least a hundred bucks a bottle and cheap rhinestones are not going to cut it. I can just hear her now.” She put her nose in the air, one hand on her hip and the other one out in an affected pose as she flapped her hand. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Viperion’s breath caught, his eyes widening slightly.

“That’s...a pretty good impression,” he said slowly, looking intently at her. “Almost the best one I’ve seen.”

Multimouse just shook her head. “Poor thing was probably humiliated, no wonder Hawkmoth got to her.” She held up the end of their yarn rope. “Would you mind tying it?”

Viperion did so, hands working the tiny yarn rope almost automatically as his mind raced on other matters. He gave the Multimice a thoughtful look, but none of them noticed, all on their hands and knees staring down at the purple bedazzler. “This is really worrying,” one of them commented. “This is the first time an akuma’s actually hidden away from the akumatized person. This one’s simple enough, but they always get smarter.”

When the rope was secure, he lowered it carefully between the strands of the yarn maze. Four Multimice hopped onto it one by one and slid down.

Working together, they knotted the end of the yarn rope securely around the bedazzler, silently thanking Luka for his lessons on knots and ropes, and then one by one the Multimice shimmied back up the rope. Once there, they reformed into one large multimouse, who grinned up at Viperion triumphantly as she reached down and grabbed the yarn rope, hauling the bedazzler up hand over hand. “And there we go,” she grinned triumphantly, sitting down on the beam and crossing her legs, holding out the bedazzler triumphantly.

Viperion was looking at her strangely, one arm folded across his chest and the other propped up on it, fingers pressed to his lips. Multimouse cocked her head, and looked back at him. “Do I have something on my face?” she quipped. “Besides the mask.”

He didn’t answer.

“Care to do the honors?” Multimouse asked, setting the bedazzler down between them.

Viperion wordlessly took his lyre from the small of his back and smashed it down in a quick, violent movement that made Multimouse jump. It did the trick, though, and the akuma floated free.

“Wow,” Multimouse said absently, tracking the little butterfly. “Never thought I’d see you do that with an instrument. I’ll signal Ladybug and meet you on the next roof over.” She got to her feet and leapt nimbly across the beams, following the akuma. When she was sure she was out of Viperion’s sight, she whispered, “Come on out, Tikki.” Tikki popped out of one of her buns and came to float in front of her, beaming. “Ready?” Multimouse asked, and Tikki nodded. “Okay. Mullo, Tikki, unify.” A few minutes later, she’d captured the akuma and tossed her yoyo to cast the cure.

She stood weighing her yoyo in her hand. Technically speaking, Multibug supposed there was no need for her to meet up with Viperion again. She could have just sent him home, which was her original plan. But she hadn’t and he was expecting her and she felt unwilling to disappoint him. Marinette was used to the extra freedom that came with the mask and didn’t usually let it go to her head, but...well. She’d said a lot of things to Viperion today that Marinette had been longing to say to Luka for a while now and it felt good. He deserved to hear that he was brave and strong and kind and wonderful, and nobody said it to him the way they should.

Including her.

“Mullo, Tikki, divide,” she ordered, and Tikki flew free. She took one look at Multimouse’s face and giggled, hiding back in her bun again.

When Multimouse arrived on the roof, Viperion was sitting on the ledge of the roof, one knee bent and one hanging down, his eyes on the lyre in his hands as he idly plucked a tune. He looked like he’d been plucked from the gardens at Versaille and left there by accident. There was something about his posture that made her uneasy and she approached him with a little less swagger than she had planned. She opened her mouth to greet him but he spoke before she could.

“I was just thinking,” he said, eyes still down, “About that girl. The one I’m so crazy about. She’s a lot like you.”

Multimouse rocked back on her heels slightly, trying not to give away how thrown she was. She folded her arms and cocked her shoulders teasingly, closing one eye. “I thought you said there was nobody like her.”

Viperion chuckled, still strumming. Strumming...strumming Marinette’s song, she realized with a sudden jolt. “This girl, she’s amazing. I’ve been in love with her for years. She wasn’t interested though so I’ve been kinda hanging back for a while now.” He shook his head, and Multimouse was having trouble looking away from the fingers plucking the lyre. “I’m starting to think though...maybe she’s changing her mind. Maybe she’s starting to feel a little bit of what I feel for her.”

Marinette felt a thrill that sped up and down her body and took up residence in her stomach, electrifying the butterflies already fluttering there. “You still love her?”

Viperion smiled, and stopped playing, returning his lyre to the small of his back as he cocked his head to look at her, and the look in his eyes took her breath. “More and more as time passes. She just keeps getting more amazing, not less. I’ve dated other people, but never for long. Nobody measures up. I think maybe I can get over her then I see her again and it’s like no time has passed at all.”

Multimouse had no reason to blush at that, she reminded herself. She strolled over to him and turned, flattening her hands on the ledge where he was sitting and leaning back against it. “You should tell her, then. Maybe you’re right and her feelings are changing, but she thinks you’ve moved on so she’s too scared to say anything.”

“Well, you know. I might be wrong, but…” Viperion leaned toward her and put his mouth right by her ear. “I think I just did.”

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her.

Viperion hopped off the ledge and turned to face her, placing one hand next to her on the ledge as he leaned in close. Just like Luka, she thought distantly, her heart racing, to not trap her in, to leave her an escape. “You know a little too much about me for coincidence, little mouse. And maybe I know you just a little bit too well. I’ve heard you do that Audrey Bourgeois impression a few thousand times.” Multmouse bit her lip. “You’ve been running me a merry chase all day but I’ve caught you now, haven’t I?” Viperion continued, his nose brushed lightly against her cheek, just under her mask. “Can I kiss you?”

“I don’t mind, handsome,” Multimouse said, as bravely as she could manage, even though having him so close was making her heart pound. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“Haven’t you heard?” She could see Viperion’s grin widen out of the corner of her eye. “I’m all about taking chances.”

Multimouse turned her face to give him a Look, lips parted for a retort, but as soon as she turned to him, he dipped down and kissed her—not the soft, careful way she’d always imagined Luka would kiss, but hard and hungry and fierce, like—

Like they were both wearing masks and they could pretend it never happened if they chose. Like it might be the only time she’d ever let him and he intended to make the most of it. Like she’d been torturing him all day and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Like he’d been in love with her for years and was finally feeling a tiny sliver of hope that she might have feelings for him too.

She felt him hesitate and begin to pull back, and suddenly she realized she hadn’t exactly stopped him, but she wasn’t really responding either, too caught off guard to do more than let her lips form to his. And if that wasn’t just like Luka, to kiss her like that and still wait for her.

Marinette might have hesitated. Ladybug would have delivered a lecture on professionalism in the suit.

Multimouse put her arms around his neck to stop his retreat and pressed into him, catching his lower lip between her teeth before pressing her mouth to his. His breath hitched and his hesitation disappeared and then they were really kissing, and it was like kissing him on her balcony only better, because this time he wasn’t shocked and hesitating and acting on instinct.

This time he wanted her and she wanted him and neither of them had to own up to it if they didn’t want to and it made them reckless.

By the time they stopped only his arm around her waist and the hand feeling up her back were keeping her from just toppling over the roof, he’d bent her so far back. They hung there for a moment, panting, and then he slowly straightened, bringing her back upright. He grinned at her, looking extremely pleased with himself as he eyed her. She felt a little cheated that his Miraculous lipstick wasn’t smudged, but his hair was a wreck, which made her smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he told her, voice deeper than she’d ever heard it outside of a performance.

Multimouse slipped out of his arms and turned half-away from him, hands on her hips. “You think you know who I am,” she said, pouting bruised lips. “But that doesn’t mean I know who you are.”

“Hmm,” he smiled indulgently, leaning back against the roof ledge. “If you didn’t know before, I think you know now. I’m planning to be at Cafe Belle about two o’clock tomorrow. If the girl I like just happens to wander by, I’ll ask her to join me for coffee and cheesecake.”

Multimouse wrinkled her nose. “Is that a mouse joke?”

Viperion’s low chuckle made her shiver. “If she doesn’t care for cheesecake I’m sure I can find something to her taste.”

“Hmm,” Multimouse said airily, twirling the end of her jump rope tail as she sauntered away from him. “Well, good luck with that…”

Viperion sighed, head cocking slightly. “I am going to miss that suit.”

Multimouse whirled, her hands on her hips. “And I thought you were such a gentleman.”

Viperion grinned, looking at her through his bangs, his green eyes looking somehow more intense and...predatory than Luka’s usual blue. “I guess we both learned something about each other today. I didn’t know you could be such a tease. You made it an awfully long day today, you know.”

Multimouse cocked a hip and folded her arms. “You still might be wrong.”

Viperion shrugged, but his grin didn’t budge. “Maybe.” He winked. “See you tomorrow.” He kicked up his legs and flipped over the roof ledge behind him.

Multimouse sighed. “I’m going to miss that suit too.”

***

Luka was sweating and exhausted by the time he got back to the boat. He’d run as Viperion as fast and as far as he could, teeth clenched to keep from whooping at the top of his lungs.

Even after his transformation dropped, he sprinted a couple of blocks just on his own. He had, after all, kind of a lot of energy to burn off. Every time he thought he was calming down, he remembered, and a grin split his face and he put on another burst of speed.

He could hear Sass laughing at him in his hood and he couldn’t care at all.

Luka arrived home panting and sweating and dishevelled. That wasn’t unusual for him; if anyone saw him they’d probably assume he’d been at work—which was sort of true, anyway, even if no one knew he occasionally moonlighted as a superhero and made out with pretty girls on rooftops how the hell did this become his life.

Sass eyed Luka as the kwami ate his snack. Luka grinned at him and then at the ground.

“May I asssk what that was?”

Luka shrugged his shoulders without looking up. “Hormones?”

Sass laughed. “Indeed.”

Luka risked a glance at him. “Are you going to yell at me?”

Sass snorted. “I am not. If you wissssh a lecture, I’m sure Ladybug can arrange a disssscusion with Tikki. Persssonally, I think if you are judged worthy to wield me, which you have done resssponssibly for yearsss, it isss reasssonable to asssume you are not a fool. You knew what you were doing, you knew the risssk you were taking. Ladybug trusssts you with the fate of the city; I trussst you to ssstand up to your choicesss, whatever the outcome.”

“I—” Luka sighed. “Thanks, Sass.”

Sass finished his food and came to land on Luka’s shoulder, wrapping his tail lightly around Luka’s neck. He patted Luka’s cheek gently.

Luka put the plate away and went back on deck to wait for Ladybug. Unsurprisingly, given how long it had taken him to get home, he didn’t have to wait long. He was leaning on his elbows staring at the water when her feet hit the deck and the zip of her retracting yoyo.

“You’re not playing your guitar,” she observed.

Luka turned and shrugged. “It’s been kind of a weird day,” he said, handing over the bracelet. “I think I’m still processing it.”

Ladybug’s eyebrow quirked and his heart jumped for no apparent reason. Habit, he supposed, at this point. Gorgeous blue-eyed girls had been wrecking him all day so why should now be any different?

Different.

It...wasn’t different. It wasn’t different at all. Luka swallowed, suddenly staring at Ladybug’s mouth.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Ladybug asked, tilting her head and studying him. He probably looked deranged, he realized, windblown and sweaty and suddenly having a lot of difficulty putting words together.

“Good,” he replied, barely managing not to stutter. “The good kind, the best, actually, um…” He pressed his lips together before he could babble anything else. Ladybug looked like she was fighting a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am fantastic,” he said, collapsing more than leaning back against the rail. “Couldn’t be better.”

Ladybug giggled. “Well, that’s good to hear.” She gave him a smirk and flung her yoyo. “See you around, Luka.”

“Right,” he said numbly to the empty air, and then he bolted for the door to the cabin. He clattered down the stairs and burst into his thankfully-empty room where he could lose his shit in peace.

It was a little thing, really. Her lips were just a little redder than usual, but it was enough. The eyes, the lips, the hair—holy shit the smirk—he felt like an idiot. Luka’s legs went weak and he sat down on his bed.

He bent his head and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I need a shower,” he muttered absently.

“Didn’t you shower this morning?” Juleka grumbled from the doorway.

Luka stripped off his sweaty shirt and threw it in her face. “I’m a guy, I need another one.”

“Eeew!” she squealed, clawing it away. By the time she threw it to the floor, Luka had pushed past her and into the Liberty’s small bathroom, just about the only place where he could actually be alone on the whole boat.

He preferred to be alone while his brain was melting out of his ears.

Multimouse was Marinette. Marinette is Ladybug. It was clear as day now, it just plain wasn’t possible that there were two people like that in the world, let alone three. He felt like such a moron.

Marinette kissed him and he kissed Multmouse who was Marinette who was Ladybug and that he means he kissed Ladybug. Twice! Which, okay, he was in love with Marinette and always had been, and over the moon to have been kissing her, but he’d had some time to process that part and come on. Ladybug. If there was anyone in their age group who was attracted to girls who hadn’t fantasized about kissing Ladybug...well it was no one he’d ever met. Just nobody thought they’d ever actually get to, and he had, and that was kind of blowing his mind.

Juleka would be so jealous if she knew.

Of course she hadn’t been wearing the masks at the time, or at least not that mask, but Luka didn’t care. He’d kiss Marinette in any mask or no mask and he’d wear any damn thing she wanted him to because he was madly, stupidly in love with her, and she was three times as amazing as he ever thought and he had a date with her tomorrow.

After years of silent pining and half-hearted attempts to move on...he had a date with Marinette.

His hands were shaking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the tiny sink and grinned at himself in the mirror, shaking his head.

“You are one lucky bastard,” he muttered to his reflection, and laughed, giddy and breathless.

***

“What am I doing, Tikki?” Marinette breathed as she walked, briskly despite her nerves. “This is crazy. Right? Tell me this is crazy, Tikki.”

“Love is always a little crazy, Marinette,” Tikki giggled, peeking up from Marinette’s purse. “Just give it a chance! For once it’s not the world at stake. And it’s just Luka.”

“Right,” Marinette muttered. “Just Luka, that I climbed all over yesterday and now he knows it was me and—”

“And thinking that he wanted you to meet him today just to reject you would be crazy,” Tikki teased, poking Marinette’s side. “I know it’s scary, Marinette, but this is the good scary! The normal scary! The exciting scary!”

Marinette smiled and put her hand in her purse to stroke Tikki’s head lightly. “Thanks, Tikki.” She promptly faltered a step and tripped. “Oh no, there he is. Just like he said he would be.”

“That’s a good thing, Marinette!” Tikki giggled.

Luka was leaning against the wall between the cafe door and the alley separating it from the next building, hands shoved in his pockets. His jean pockets, because he wasn’t wearing the hoodie that she had seen on him at nearly every encounter for three years, just a Kitty Section t-shirt that Marinette had made him.

And because she’d made it, it fit him perfectly. And without his hoodie, it left his arms mostly bare. Marinette whimpered quietly, cursing yesterday-Marinette for making her admiration of his arms so...obvious.

“You can do it, Marinette,” Tikki whispered, sinking lower into the purse. Marinette gulped in a deep breath and started walking again.

“Hi Luka,” she called as she got closer, “Hey, what a surprise, running into you like this! I was just, um, just out and about.”

Luka looked up, giving her that same warm stare she’d last seen from masked green eyes, and a slow smile that made her skin tingle. “Hey Marinette. Fancy meeting you here. I was just thinking about getting a table to grab some lunch. His smile took on a cocky tilt that she had only rarely seen on him and for a moment she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed by it or something else entirely. “Care to join me? I hear they have great cheesecake here.”

Marinette stood, vibrating in indecision for just a moment. Luka’s eyes didn’t waver.

Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?

He was right.

But first things first.

Marinette took a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and in a smoother motion than she would have thought she was capable of outside of the suit, she stepped up to him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and swung him around into the alley entrance. “Woah,” he yelped, and then his eyes widened further as she planted a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed, backing him further down the (thankfully relatively clean) alley. Something in her face must have given him an inkling of her mood because he was slowly turning very red.

She changed her angle to back him into the wall and kept advancing until she was chest to chest with him, looking up into his face. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, with only a little tremble in her voice though she could feel her hands starting to shake, “Nothing on this earth will save you if you breathe a word of what you think you know to anyone.”

Luka’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Of course,” he gasped, breathlessly. “I wouldn’t, I would nev—mmph!” Marinette grabbed the back of his neck and jerked him down into a kiss that was harder than she meant it to be, just out of nerves. He must have liked it well enough, though, because he made the same noise he’d made yesterday when she kissed Viperion on her balcony. That sparked the memory of the look on his face afterwards, which made her giggle, and then she squeaked as he took advantage of her distraction and—wow, pulling him into the alley was a good decision because she did not want any witnesses to this.

This was so much better without the suits, she realized giddily as he pulled her up flush against him. He made that noise again when her hands slid up over his shoulders and slipped into his hair. It felt amazing and she could have kissed him forever but there were things she still needed to say.

Finally she put her hand on his shoulder, pushing lightly, and he stopped and drew back to look at her, lips red and hair even more tousled than usual, and Marinette was grateful he was still holding her because she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own at that point.

“A little mouse told me you still had feelings for me,” Marinette whispered. “Is it true? Because I—” she continued in a rush before he could answer. “Because I definitely have feelings for you and if it’s not true that’s okay, but if it—if it is then maybe we could go have that cheesecake and if you’re free maybe we could go see a movie and—”

He cut her off with another kiss, and it was softer and slower, more tender, more like how she had always imagined Luka would kiss, but it was no less thrilling.

“She also said you were a really good kisser,” Marinette added breathlessly when he drew back.

“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth came up in a subtle smirk that she could definitely get used to seeing on him.

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged one shoulder, aware that her intense blush belied her unusually calm attitude. “So I guess I’m kinda hoping that since she was right about that,” Marinette dropped her eyes and rubbed two fingers against the fabric of his t-shirt, “Maybe she was right about the other thing too?”

“If you mean the fact that I’m even more in love with you than I was the day you tripped into my room,” he lowered his forehead to rest on hers and took a shaky breath. “Then yeah, she was totally right. And that’s one secret I’m more than happy to be rid of.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette sighed, “For keeping you waiting so long, and then hesitating even when I knew what I wanted.”

Luka lifted one hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “If you think I’m even the slightest bit dissatisfied right now then by all means, let me convince you I’m not.” His hand turned and cupped her cheek as he leaned in. Marinette put a finger on his chin and he paused.

“So...about that cheesecake?” she smiled.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he told her, and his eyes—she couldn’t look away. “Today and any day. Every day, if you want. Whatever I have to do to make this real, just tell me, I’m there.”

Marinette smiled slowly. “Silly boy,” she said, letting her finger slide away from his chin. “It’s already real.”

He looked at her with soft eyes, and his voice was warm and low as he said, “Then let’s go have some cheesecake and go watch a movie that, I’m going to warn you now, I have no intention of remembering.” His arm slid around her, pulling her close into his side, and she smiled.

Luka smiled too as they strolled towards the cafe entrance together, not entirely convinced that his feet were touching the ground, and only the persistent pounding assured him his heart was still in his chest.

Luka held open the cafe door for her and she smiled up at him. As she passed him, he took a cookie out of his pocket and slipped it into her purse. He wanted to make a good impression, after all, even if he wasn’t quite ready to tell Marinette he’d figured out more of her secrets than she realized.

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