#in a way i'm happy she's leaving- but it also makes me think what's gonna happen next

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

You know what, I'm fucking done arguing with a brick wall.

Hon you can just concede, agree to disagree, and be done with it, you don't have to pretend like I'm a "brick wall" who hasn't been making well-wrought points to refute yours. I took the time to respond very exhaustively to you, point-by-point — give me a fucking break, lmao

Send my apologies to your English literature teachers for having to put up with you.

I mean several of them are dead (it's been quite a long while since I was in school), so I'm gonna stop you right there. All I'll say is: people who are really truly into literature on a professional level, such as my mentors, or myself, have a strong appreciation for deep engagement with a text. What you think of as a "brick wall" (debate, exegesis, and fondness for overlooked details), my English lit teachers held in high regard. We had a hell of a lot of fun dissecting material together. It's fine that you don't enjoy this kind of thing, but don't pretend that it's somehow a slight against you, or that my points aren't worth seeing.

And take a good hard look about whether you would feel any different if the story stayed exactly the same except you swapped Fiyero and Glinda's genders.

Right back atcha, hon. Your takes have been pretty consistently sexist.

Let me leave you with one thought though, honey. If this is just "reading from the text" then presumably you think Winnie and Stephen agree with your delusions?

Winnie and Stephen pretty transparently wrote Fiyero to be the Early 2000s Slightly Rebellious Male Heartthrob For the Girls to Fight Over and not much else. He's been improved greatly in the film adaptation by NOT being that, and as I've said many times, I would love if they've ended up canonizing the double agent idea in the second film; albeit, as I've explained, I think that he'd lose something if he were made too straightforwardly "good". It doesn't matter whether Winnie, Stephen, or any of the directors or actors that have interpreted Fiyero over the years, specifically "agree" with me. Theatre of all mediums lends itself especially to a panoply of readings. There is no set-in-stone "canon". I just find certain takes to be ignorant of the details of the text, and I've argued against those takes. I happened, in the process, to do analysis which spawned further discourse. But it isn't like my analysis is Word of God: it's just fun to discuss ultima facie instead of prima facie. Your reading may well be closer to prima facie in certain ways — but that's not somehow an argument in and of itself for being "correct". You and I both made our arguments and apparently mine are now left to stand as ultima facie, as you have run out of counters.

Seems awfully cruel of them to go out of their way to save Elphaba from dying at the end of the story to leave her with an oh so awful fascist soldier?

The fact you seem to believe I think of Fiyero as "oh so awful" just tells me you haven't been engaging seriously with anything I've said.

He's a fascist soldier. That is something that should be reckoned with and examined in any real analysis of his character. He isn't "awful" — I never claimed he was, far from it — and he is certainly not the first or last character to have the narrative gloss over more troubling details and implications about what was written for them. But don't come at me for pointing those details and implications out, just because you personally dislike them, lol. I'm not the one who came up with Fiyero volunteering to become a fascist soldier: take that up with Holzman, lol

Also, if Elphaba was happy to fuck Fiyero in the woods and later leave with him, she clearly thought what he did was justified given the circumstance.

Hon, it's not that deep, lmao. They boned because they're passionate people with unresolved sexual tension suddenly given an opportunity — the only opportunity — to resolve it. Elphaba was not weighing his past several years for their moral soundness whilst riding him, lmfao

And I think the biggest Animal rights activist probably knows better than either of us the about the situation :)

Perhaps she does, perhaps she doesn't. We can only speculate. All we know is that she was frightened of him, and was worried he'd bought into the propaganda against her — which is a fair concern, given how he spent those years. She's relieved to find that he hasn't succumb to the hate against her, and that he isn't trying to harm her, and... that's really all that's stated, and that's all that need be stated. It's probably the first time in years that a human hasn't been her enemy — I don't think she wants to go there and review his choices, for her own sake, and I don't blame her for that one bit. But just because she doesn't go there doesn't mean that we shouldn't. We aren't bound to the POV of any singular character: we get to study them from beyond the fourth wall as much as we want, and there's a TON of interesting stuff there.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 22

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: A big thank you for all of the peeps who read this and not only comment but leave little hearts on the chapters as they read! I love seeing y'alls progression. I see you and I appreciate you!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21

• ··········· • ············ •

The high sun on the veranda shone on you like a natural heating lamp as you scribbled intently on your notebook. The house was mostly silent, with only Voltaire in the kitchen with his pots and pans, since your mother and Willah had taken a romantic getaway to Demancia. 

After your quick but stressful hospital stay, Esther had been a wreck, to the point she would pace in the living room every time you went out until she saw you again. It took a very convincing and assertive dialogue between her and Willah for her to even think about going anywhere. However, after a few days of sulking, Willah managed to get her on an airship, and off they went.

You were trying to remember the runes that other Viktor had sketched on the blackboard, but between what happened in that dimension and then the jump, your memory was a bit faulty when it came to that.

The small and brand-new yellow notebook, a gift from Viktor, was taking the brunt of your frustration, pages after pages with lines and sketches that did nothing but vex you further. 

Adding to that, the council had just come out with a brand new... suggestion... for the lab's work environment. They could decline and let it drop on deaf ears, but that was exactly what they wanted.

According to the council, any outsider to the lab had to get approval from the council, and all work had to be stopped for their appointment. If the outsider was someone of a minor or major house, it had to be accompanied by an enforcer or a councillor itself other than Jayce.

You felt a little guilty when you had found out since it had been sort of your fault that the new rule was applied, and no matter what the two scientists told you otherwise, it still felt that way. The emotion quickly dissipated as soon as you saw Sky happily making her way toward you, berating the enforcer that was stopping you from going up. That had been the last time you went in uninvited.

The knock on the penthouse door startled you from the scribbled pages as Voltaire shouted that he would get it. 

You kept your face towards the door, not expecting anyone at that time. Viktor would probably visit you in the evening to exchange rune notes, and Jayce sometimes came with him unless he had a 'meeting' with Mel.

“It’s probably Mr. Korith with the groceries.” He told you, walking to the door and cleaning his hands with a towel.

You nodded and smiled at the chef, happy with the explanation, and turned your attention back to the notes. 

The last page of the book had a little table drawn by hand with rows and columns. The first column was for the facets you remembered; next to it was another column for a checkmark, tallying the ones you think corresponded, and another for what each rune did.

Air - ✓ - creates gusts of air/moves things/when sustained, creates wind/when solidified, creates whirlwinds

Earth -

Fire - ✓ - heals by transferring someone's rune to the rune speaker’s body (theory: the speaker’s body heals better/faster because of magic). 

Earth -

Sun -

Moon - ✓? - creates small marbles of light/when sustained, they can go forever until dispelled/when solidified, creates lightning.

Chaos - ✓? - ??

Order - ✓? - puts things back to their original form (mends broken objects) / never tried sustaining/solidified creates a simple missing piece if any is needed

Time -

Space -

Creation - ✓? - hand rune

Corruption - 

Missing: unlock rune (softer chaos?)?Corruption of an original state? Creation because of finding new runes?)

Elevator call/banner falling

“It seems Mr. Korith dragged a stray in with him.” Voltaire’s amused voice boomed through the quiet house, making you turn around to look at the chef and the 'stray.'. 

Viktor stood there with a small smile on his face. He looked tired, but seemingly in a good mood. He was also not in his uniform, which by itself was already a curious thing, but when you added the time of the day, it made it a downright mystery.

“Hello!” He waved and started walking towards you, his desired target already in his sights. The blue armchair next to where you sat.

“Will you stay for lunch, my friend?” Voltaire asked, already making his way to the kitchen.

That made Viktor pause and look at the other man and then back at you. You gave him a one-shoulder shrug. He was always welcome to stay and eat.

“I could eat, yes, if it’s not too much trouble.” He threw a wide smile at Voltaire, who nodded happily.

“The more, the merrier. I’ll make a quick dessert too. The one you like!”

“Oh…oh no…there’s no need.” Viktor quickly refuted, shaking his head.

“Nonsense.” His voice was already accompanied by the sounds of pots and pans.

“What’s the dessert?” You asked when the scientist restarted his trek towards his little piece of cushiony heaven.

It was still funny to you that, after years of knowing someone who looked exactly like him, in this timeline, there were still so many things to learn. 

Other Viktor's favorite dessert? Coffee with three packets of sugar and a drop of sweet milk. 

Is this Viktor’s favorite dessert? No idea. Probably something with so much sugar it would make his blood turn to caramel.

“Lemon Tart.” He said as he gently plopped down on the chair with a happy sigh, straightening his leg and melting into the seat, his crutch leaning on the back of the chair. “I like how he burns the white cream things on top.”

“Have you ever been to his restaurant?” You looked at him, smiling at how peaceful he looked with the sunbathing his angular face. He looked at you sideways and made a disapproving face.

“Have you seen my salary?”

You knew other Viktor made some money but didn’t like spending it on frivolous things, so you were almost sure this Viktor had enough money to have at least one meal at Voltaire’s restaurant. 

Hells, you were more than sure your mother had invited him at some point. But still, Viktor didn't think an expensive meal was worth the money, probably going to spend that value on something for the lab.

“Remind me to take you there sometime.” You threw out looking back at Piltover’s skyline and then at him from the corners of your eyes.

“And then I am the one accused of being sneaky.” He squinted his eyes at you in fake annoyance, and you shrugged.

After a moment of silence, you turned back to look at him, half expecting him to be already napping, which you found immensely adorable.

It had become a completely normal occurrence for you to come back from rehearsals and have him, Jayce, Willah, and your mother just relaxing in the living room. They would talk about politics, science, or even the latest gossip, something that Viktor enjoyed as long as it wasn’t about him or Jayce or even the lab. Every other rumor he found strangely entertaining.

And whenever the conversation became too boring, it was just as normal to find him lightly snoring, his head either leaning on his hand or against the back of the chair. You found it adorable.

But at the moment, even though he did have his eyes closed, you noted his breathing was regular and his fingers tapped on the arms of the chair. He was just enjoying the warmth of the sun. You tried to commit this weirdly familiar situation to memory.

Viktor was wearing a burgundy knitted polo vest with a light blue button-up shirt under. His gray slacks were bunched up where the leg brace fastened. The brace itself was different from what you’ve seen him wear in the lab. It only strapped around his thigh and in the middle of his lower leg; instead of going from hip to foot, the metal brackets and mechanism only aided his knee joint. 

“You're staring again.” he warned jokingly, his golden eyes heavy-lidded but looking at you.

“I sure am.” You answered bluntly, nodding proudly, and he chuckled.

“You have become bold.” He closed his eyes again, but his eyebrows raised. “Do tell me then, why am I under scrutiny this time?”

“I am trying to figure out the whole thing with the civilian clothes…”

“Oh…” he adjusted himself in the chair, his demeanor changing from peaceful to tense in seconds. When he looked back at you, he had the most annoyed look on his face. “I was promptly kicked out of my lab by Councilor Shoola and her surprise inspection.”

“What?!? Why? I thought those had been scheduled now!” You turned on your seat, the sides of the chair acting as a sill where you placed your elbows.

“Apparently not.” He rolled his eyes, mimicking your pose. “Only outsiders need to make appointments. The councilors can just walk in and demand an inspection, or a debriefing, or... whatever they call it, no matter what we are doing or if it’s opportune or even if it is safe. So, when they announced only one of us was needed for whatever they wanted to do there, I was promptly but subtly kicked out. And in protest, I went home and changed. I won’t go back to the Academy today. Councilor Shoola can volunteer to fasten the bolts and do the math on my work. I wish her all the luck with that.”

You blinked a few times trying to process what he just spit out. His ramble was almost comical, his accent becoming stronger as he talked on, his hands starting to accompany his rant with exaggerated movements. But it angered you that they had, promptly and subtly, dismissed the co-creator of hextech, one of the most brilliant minds in this part of town.  It wasn't exactly new that they didn't enjoy his place of birth, but they were never this... blunt about it.

“Anyway, Sky gave me your note, so… here I am.”  He took a couple of calming breaths and leaned back into the chair, a scowl on his face.

“Right!” You grabbed the notebook. “I'm about to make your day...sort of...I may have found something about the...”

Viktor straightened quickly, grimacing as his leg jerked with his movements. You opened the notebook, showed him the table with the list, and pointed to the first column.

“Do you know what these are?”

“Yes!..." He said excitedly but then frowned. "Wait... no... maybe? Some of these are theorized to be the basis of the arcane. How do you know them?”

"I read about them…” ‘in a blackboard while the other version of you explained it to me…’ you wanted to add but kept your mouth shut.

“Oh?” 

“There’s a book on it…” You hoped there was a book on it.

“Yes, we have it in the lab.” He nodded.

“There you go…that's where I read it.” You cleared your throat, nodding along with him. “Anyway…you didn’t use them in hextech?” 

“Eh... Well... some.” Viktor observed you for a second trying to read something unknown in your face but gave up after a while. “Some looked too unstable to work in an already volatile environment. But your runes look nothing like the ones in the book.”

“Do you remember which ones you used?”

Viktor nodded and grabbed a stump of an orange pencil from the breast pocket of his shirt. You snickered and shook your head. Why he had the tiniest stump of a colored pencil in his breast pocket was beyond you, but he had it, and he was proud of it.

“What made you think of these?” He questioned still working on the rune.

“Alena. She…told me a story, and it’s…” He stopped what he was doing and looked up, encouraging you to go on. “It’s a stretch, but her grandma told her a story about an old man that never got older, who would go around Zaun writing ‘symbols' on walls and call kouzel…kouzelnivi?”

Viktor’s eyes had gone back to the drawing until you said that word, and then his neck snapped up to focus on you.

“Kouzelnictví? Magic?” He corrected you, and something about Viktor speaking his native tongue was sending waves of heat to your cheeks.

“Yes. The one her grandma asked about was fire…healing fire." You continued, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Oheň” 

“Yes. He told her that it was the symbol of healing. Her family believed in it so much that Alena has the rune tattooed on her wrist. Because fire heals and keeps you warm.”

He had stopped scribbling and was now looking at you intently. For a moment you were scared he was going to laugh in your face from the leaps you were taking. But he only tilted his head and nodded favorably.

“You don’t think it’s a far-fetched idea? Not to dismiss the story as just a tale? It may be just a bedtime story—

“Hextech was created on far-fetched ideas, fairy tales, and confiscated material.” He smiled brightly at you. “Your story has more proof than that. And even if there was no proof, it should be a path to be explored.”

Viktor ripped the page he was drawing on from the notebook and gave it to you. You took it but kept looking at him. There was something about his optimism, his belief in your idea, that threw you off. The way he was looking at you with a lazy but excited smile, his whiskey eyes shining with life. You found yourself consciously stopping your arm from moving to stroke his handsome face.

“You’re staring.” He said, a hint of red on his cheeks.

“You’re handsome.” You blurted it out before your brain caught it.

For a second you thought about apologizing. You didn’t know if he enjoyed compliments or if he even wanted them. But with the way he was smiling, you mentally squared up your shoulders and gave him a smug grin.

“Well, you are. So…” you both chuckled, and he mumbled something close to thank you. “Anyway, I need to go to Zaun.”

“What?” The smile on his face faltered. “Why?”

“Alena and the story.” His face told you he didn’t get the connection. “I need to go and find the rest of the runes.”

“Did she tell you where they were?” 

“No. But someone must have seen or heard more stories.”

“It was her grandma, yes?" You nodded, and Viktor closed his eyes. “So, let’s say her grandma lived until 70… mmm… 80 years, and that Alena is probably our age… so that’s a story with—

“90-plus years. I know. But there have to be people who’ve heard it as well.”

“There are…”

A glint in his eyes made you look at him intently, and a small gasp came out when his eyebrows came up and he bit his lips.

“You know about it, don’t you? You’ve heard the stories…” He nodded sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “That’s why you didn’t dismiss it at first.”

“It is just a children’s story.” He sighed. “There was never talk of symbols in my version, just some old man that would visit Zaun in a blue robe and wander the streets like a ghost. My mother used it so I wouldn’t come home after dark. ‘Modrý muž tě dostane.’...The blue man is going to get you…”

“How do you know it was the same guy?”

“The old man who never got old.” He gave a small smile and a shrug. “He was some kind of wanderer, eating children after it got dark.” 

An idea burst into your head quickly, and you grabbed the notebook from his hand, receiving a questioning sound from him.

You drew the fire rune and showed it to him. It dawned on you he had probably never seen the fire rune, and if the fire rune was present in Zaun as the apothecary symbol, he might have seen it.

“This is the fire rune. Do you know it?” He shook his head, and you deflated.

"Wait..." He grabbed back the notebook. "Maybe..."

He turned the book towards the bright windows, singling out the page where you wrote the rune, and looked it through the back of the sheet. The rune was mirrored on the back of the page as the light hit it.

“My mother used to get an ointment from this little store down from where we lived. The lady from there knew about my condition and added some medicated sweets to the order. This was the brand on the bag.” He closed the journal and looked at you, his eyes still hazy from the memory.

“That’s the fire rune. It’s just mirrored. That’s Alena’s grandma's rune.” You told him softly. “Fire heals. Air moves. Moon lights the darkness.”

“It helps us with a location as well. If I heard it when I was little and if Alena’s family is the same as the apothecary, then the wanderer must have passed somewhere near there.” He was nodding to himself and smiling. “It is a good starting point. When do we go?”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and then shook your head when what he said sunk in.

“We? No. You are not going anywhere.” You shifted in the chair and went to grab the book from his hand, but he moved it out of reach. “Viktor…”

“What is your plan?” He asked seriously, keeping the book out of your reach.

“Go to Zaun, where the apothecary is, ask around, talk to people, and figure out what kind of stories they have. Once I’ve gathered enough info, I’ll explore further.” You explained feeling a bit more confident as he nodded along, perceiving it as an approval of your plan.

“The apothecary is at the Entresol level, so you might be lucky, and that is where the runes are.” He looked at the ceiling and squinted his eyes, and you knew by the arrogance written on his face he was about to throw your plan out the window. “Best case scenario, the gangs will smell a Piltie, kidnap the Piltie, and ask your mother for the highest amount of gold they can think of. Worst-case scenario, the gangs smell the Piltie, kidnap Piltie, and sell them for the highest amount of gold they can think of.”

You were divided about this. It would be a good thing if he came; he knew the place much better than you, since you’d been there only a couple of times in another dimension. His utility and company would be greatly appreciated. 

However…one wrong move, one wrong look at one wrong person, and he’d be dead. You'd both be dead. And you can’t let him die. It wasn't just about him becoming the Herald. If he died, you don’t think you could handle it. You could not... you will not... lose him again.

"You'd need to justify to the council why you were bridge hopping." You argued without much conviction.

“The good thing about being invisible to the council... is not being seen by the council,” he countered. 

“They’ll notice.” You softened your tone, already knowing this was a losing battle. 

“Let them. I am not doing anything wrong. What will they do? Arrest me for visiting my home?” He snorted in defiance and looked at you. “I would not feel good having you wander into Zaun alone. I understand you are very capable of taking care of yourself, but…I also want to help.”

He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, looking back at you again. Something weary behind his handsome eyes.

“This rune.” He shook the notebook. “When you spoke it... it took over you, and then it harmed you—”

You were about to interrupt him to argue it didn't do it on purpose. It was just easier for magic to heal you than to heal Sky.

“I know the theory.” He put a hand up, stopping you from arguing. “But, at the end of the day, you were the one bleeding on the floor. The one in the hospital bed. If any other rune does this, you need someone there to help you.”

Arguing with Viktor was always a gamble. You could win the argument without warning, carving a response so fierce he would not be able to reply, or it would be easily won when the gears on his brain spurred on. But yet again, you were raised by a lawyer. 

“I can’t protect us both. If anything happens to me, I can distract them enough to run…” you blurted quickly, the hurtful part unsaid. He frowned.

“My leg is not a hindrance. It never was. It never will be.” He frowned for a bit. “There are other ways to escape that don’t require running.”

“It’s not about your leg; it's about you.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “Viktor, if something happens to you down there, I won’t leave you behind.”

“Good! Great! Because I will do the same!”

“No!” You groaned and thumped your head on the chair’s armrest. “I forgot how exasperating you are.”

“Well, you are also very stubborn.” He tilted his eyebrows. “Especially because you know I’m right.”

You looked at him deadpan, and for a moment his expression matched yours. After a few seconds, you rolled your eyes and got up from the chair with a swift movement.

“I’m telling Voltaire not to burn the meringue.” You announced over your shoulder.

“You wouldn’t.” He gasped when he figured out what you were threatening.

From behind you, there was the clear sound of him shuffling to get up from the chair and grab his crutch. The rhythmic sound of him quickly approaching made you giggle.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd

[vaguehotels]

had the most braindead repetitive conversation/argument with my parents. buzz cuts are too masculine but if you dye a design on it it become effeminate which is bad because then you look weak and if youre weak then society falls apart (all societies ever that have fallen apart for any reason are actually because of feminine men) and we start sacrificing babies. and also all mental illness is invented because only 4 people had anxiety in the 90s and covid was made up so that we would all become gay and trans and then the government can control us better and be joe biden's little sex slaves. and also i need to keep my hair long because my father finds it attractive. what

[mayspicer]

Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:

My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x

The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[minqies]

just found out heartbreaking news that my manager gave her 2-weeks notice and is leaving on dec 18 </3

[astonmartinii]

cutie patooties | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem leclerc!reader

just them terrorising the world with their cuteness (and collecting the younger drivers)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SMALL BUSINESS

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,455 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: he loves redline more than me 🙄

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user1: obsessed with how she's like "oh you wanna ship max with my brother" and then takes lestappen out back and shoots them

user2: as she should, she's the cutest leclerc by far

yourusername: true 😙

maxverstappen1: double true 😘

charles_leclerc: die.

yourusername: erm consider your ass REPORTED THIS IS HARASSMENT

maxverstappen1: did you just threaten my girlfriend ????

charles_leclerc: and what?

maxverstappen1: pull up, i'm outside

charles_leclerc: ???? leave ????

maxverstappen1: no i'm deadass don't disrespect my gf 😤😤😤

charles_leclerc: it's my SISTER

yourusername: when he's protective 😛😛😛

user3: screaming, crying, throwing up over the keychain

user4: i need someone *cough, cough* them to recreate it 🥸

landonorris: YOU WENT TO THE LEGO STORE WITHOUT ME? YOUR FAVOURITE CHILD?

yourusername: watch your tone

maxverstappen1: god forbid i want to spend time with my GIRLFRIEND on a DATE

landonorris: that's not a valid excuse

yourusername: also bold of you to assume you're our favourite child when oscar, yuki and logan are right there

oscarpiastri: snooze you lose lando

yukitsunoda0511: suck on that lando

logansargent: i'm just happy to be included

landonorris: damn...

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,203,513 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

maxverstappen1: spent the weekend bothering my girlfriend's brother, what about you?

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user9: the way charles put his ferrari cap on y/n only for max to throw it into the crowd and put his own on her head instead

user10: those who know max's attachment to his caps, this is big.

yourusername: winning looks so sexy oh my

maxverstappen1: blushing like a motherfucker

yourusername: skip the debrief? they won't notice?

maxverstappen1: i think they might notice the driver of the race they're analysing not being there

yourusername: show them the pic i just sent you, they can't say no to my puppy dog eyes

maxverstappen1: helmut said fuck off 💔

yourusername: tell him i have a present for him (it's a pack of salt and vinegar crisps and a pamphlet for caskets)

user11: @yourusername winning IS sexy, tell your bf to tell charles win

yourusername: if charles wins it's suddenly decidedly unsexy, this isn't game of thrones babe

charles_leclerc: you ARE annoying that's right

maxverstappen1: annoyingly sexy

charles_leclerc: no comment, we're going to be family at some point soon

maxverstappen1: DAMN RIGHT WE ARE

yourusername: if you think we're annoying now, oh boy.

user12: i need max and y/n to be engaged right this fucking moment

user13: i think it would actually make my year

user14: after the championship win queen @maxverstappen1 ?

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: @ the person who asked how much max weighs... god will deal with you

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user15: i'm obsessed with how obsessed they are with each other

user16: is max's wardrobe all red bull merch and t-shirts dedicated to y/n?

maxverstappen1: yes 😌

danielricciardo: i saw the clip... the time stamp was 3am - we RACE TODAY?

yourusername: i am happy to support my man's hobby

danielricciardo: yes but you also don't have to race with that man on three hours of sleep

yourusername: be real daniel, the only time you'll be close to max is when he laps you xxx

danielricciardo: EXCUSE ME??? MAX YOU GONNA LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND TALK TO YOUR FIRST LOVE LIKE THAT?

maxverstappen1: bold of you to assume you were my first love

danielricciardo: did on the couch mean nothing to you?

maxverstappen1: soz buddy this is a childhood friends to lovers narrative right now (and we were already together by the time i was at red bull)

charles_leclerc: WHAT?

yourusername: spare me the dramatics, you guys were deep in the ANGST and then austria happened so really it's your own fault that it took as long as it did

user17: one comment section where the girls aren't fighting? impossible.

oscarpiastri: omg the shirts look so good y/n !!

yourusername: we're ✨graphic designers✨

maxverstappen1: does having a dashingly handsome model help

yourusername: of course !!!!!

oscarpiastri: i'm not going to answer that question

maxverstappen1: :(

oscarpiastri: on another thought - yes!

yourusername: @landonorris this is why he's one of the favourites

landonorris: i'm not talking to yall

maxverstappen1

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, yourusername and 1,309,556 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: weekend off racing means shenanigans and late night streaming

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user20: i know whatever poor soul went for dinner with them hated every second

yukitsunoda0511: working on being the favourite of the favourite children 🫡 and they paid for my meal at a really cool italian restaurant

oscarpiastri: game on

yourusername: so who is the lady and who is the tramp?

danielricciardo: THAT'S A TRICK QUESTION MAX DON'T ANSWER IT

maxverstappen1: you're not a lady... you're a queen 😘

yourusername: did you just fail the test, successfully?

danielricciardo: you smooth motherfucker

yourusername: stole your red bull drive and your nickname @carlossainz55

carlossainz55: why am i catching strays?

yourusername: bored ❤️

user21: y/n really be like "oh the season's boring cause my bf wins everything? let me make it interesting by shading every driver on the grid"

maxverstappen1: do NOT give her a challenge

charles_leclerc: can you PLEASE stop taking such lovey dovey gross ass photos maman keeps getting them printed and I AM GETTING MOVED OFF OF THE MANTEL PIECE I AM ON THE BOOKSHELF, THIS FACE IS A MANTEL PIECE FACE NOT A BOOKSHELF FACE

yourusername: not reading all of that, i'm happy for you or sad that happened x

charles_leclerc: MAX DO SOMETHNG

maxverstappen1: step your pussy up bro

yourusername: when he catches your lingo >>

charles_leclerc: i am a VICTIM

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1 & charles_leclerc

yourusername: invented babygirlism actually

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user22: y/n is so real for choosing a cute recent photo for herself and then just violating the guys

user23: she's funny as fuck for that

charles_leclerc: finally some fucking credit

yourusername: not everything can be about you all of the time 🤨

charles_leclerc: don't make me an ankle-biter again you're PUSHING ME

sebastianvettel: knew you were an ankle biter

yourusername: LOL

charles_leclerc: no seb no! i didn't bite ankles, just y/n's and that doesn't count

user24: what the fuck is going on here

maxverstappen1: you are the most babygirl to ever babygirl

danielricciardo: i think i had a stroke reading that

yourusername: awwwww you're so cute maxy

maxverstappen1: knew you were the one for me when we first met karting, you taught me the babygirl ways

yourusername: and you're delivering

oscarpiastri: you guys can't see but he's blushing so bad right now

landonorris: are you just attached to them

yourusername: yes he is, a babygirl in training

user25: how do i get adopted by y/n and max?

maxverstappen1: no but for real i love you, even if we are lumbered with your brother

yourusername: i love you too xxx

charles_leclerc: *brothers

maxverstappen1: nope arthur and lorenzo are sound

charles_leclerc: fUCK OFF :(((((((

FIN.

note: heyyyyyy you guysssss! we all know i have a soft spot for these two (plus oscar and alex) so i wanted to put out a little thing to celebrate 5k! thank you so much for following and reading my work, hope you enjoyed xx

[eccentricwritingbaby]

please please please

lando norris x famous!reader

summary - with lando’s past track record of women, you get nervous entering this new relationship. it leads you to do the only thing you know how - write a song. based on please please please by sabrina carpenter. 

masterlist

-

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

-

“hey baby,” lando greets you as he enters the hotel room, striding in with a kiss to your forehead while giving you a slight hug as he moves towards the bathroom. 

“hi, love,” you response from your place on the bed, “how was media day?”

“eh, boring,” lando shrugs as he begins to gather his things for the shower, “but some of the guys and i are going to go out later, you’re coming right?”

“yeah, i’ll come,” you nod with your response, “are you going to be so drunk i have to carry you home again?” laughing through your question, lando just shakes his head at you as he readies the shower. 

“no no,” he keeps chuckling, “paparazzi will probably be there and my pr team will freak if they get that story again,”

“yeah, well now you have my pr team to worry about too,” you giggle towards him, “and if you’re surrounded by girls and getting hammered-”

“i know, love,” lando heads over to your place on the bed in order to give you a reassuring kiss, “i won’t embarrass you, i love you too much,”

you chase his lips again to receive another kiss before patting his cheek lightly, “please don’t, i know your history,” you warn him with a little laugh. 

“yeah, yeah,” he hops off the bed with an eye roll and a playful shove to you, “you know i wouldn’t do that to you,”

“i know, lan, i know,”

-

All I'm asking, baby

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

-

“i just get nervous i guess,” you speak into the phone to your friend, emma, “i mean last night we went out and he was hammered and a bunch of girls were on him after he promised-”

“y/n, y/n, slow down,” she attempts to calm you, “he’s a twenty-four year old millionaire, he’s gonna party you have to get that,” you sigh in realization that she’s right as she continues, “he didn’t and wouldn’t cheat on you, he loves you,”

“i know,” you sigh again.

“where is he now? you should probably talk about this with him,”

“he’s at the track, it’s race day,”

“well then do what you do best,”

“leave him?” you ask with a laugh, thinking about your own track record of ditching relationships when you get scared.

“no,” emma giggles through the phone, “write a song, y/n,”

“oh right,” the giggles escalate between you and your friend right as lando walks through the hotel door, “i gotta go, em, lando just got here,”

“alright, don’t leave him, y/n. he’s good for you, you’ve just got trust issues, and remember that you’re also a twenty-four year old millionaire, you can have fun too,”

“shut up,” you laugh again, hanging up the phone and heading towards your boyfriend, “what are you doing here?” 

“are you not happy to see me, baby?” lando asks as he waltzes towards you, hands landing on your waist to pull you into a kiss.

“mm,” you hum in approval, “always happy to see you, lan,”

“good,” he giggles, separating from you and jogging a bit towards his suitcase, “i forgot this team gear thing i have to wear today, so i had to run back really quick,”

“ah okay,” you nod in understanding.

“are you coming soon?” he asks as he grabs the shirt he was looking for, moving to the door to leave. 

“yes, baby, i’m going to head down in about an hour,”

“okay, i’ll see you there,” he reaches out for a kiss before he leaves as you blush behind him once the door shuts. you can’t help but notice the way he makes you feel, understanding that your nervousness had no real reason to be there. you both were young and successful, and reaping the benefits of that shouldn’t be so bad in the public eye. 

so you take emma’s advice and get out your notepad in order to hopefully release your stress. 

-

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please 

-

it was three weeks later when you arrived home to your apartment after another studio session. your song had taken about two weeks to write, quickly written due to the words being on a constant replay in your head. all you could think was ‘please please please’ therefore the song almost wrote itself. now with a week of recording under your belt, the song was taking off with your production team. they loved it. and so did you. it was determined to be the main single on your album release which was approaching fast. 

“hey, lan, i didn’t think you’d get here until later,” you say to your boyfriend as you lock up the door behind you. 

“i flew with some of the guys on a private flight, so we landed early,” he explains while getting up and walking to meet you at the door for a kiss, “how was the studio?”

“it was good,” you breathe out, beginning to take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch, then going to the kitchen to try and find some food, “i have a few more sessions before the single is ready, and then the album should be finished,”

“that’s nice,” lando replies, stealing a few grapes from the bowl of fruit you grabbed, “can i come with tomorrow?”

“what?” you choke out, not prepared for his question. lando had accompanied you a few times to recording sessions, he seemed to really enjoy them. however, he had never watched you record a song about him, especially one that may be taken the wrong way.

“can i come with you tomorrow?” he asks you a bit slower, attempting to read your facial expression, “to your recording session?”

“oh, um,” you stumble out, “i thought you had to be in the sim?”

“no, that’s in two days, tomorrow i’m free,” he looks you up and down with confusion before continuing, “what’s going on?”

“i’m sorry, lan,” you sigh, pushing the fruit in your bowl around a bit as a distraction, “the song i’ve been recording, well, it’s…” you slow your speech in an attempt to find the right words.

“what?” he pushes, confused on what could be so bad.

“it’s about you, okay?” you finally get out, “and it’s not really a love song,”

“then what is it?” lando asks and you finally take a look at him, but you aren’t able to read his face. 

“you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“no, y/n, what is it?” he demands, pushing forward on the counter in order to get closer to you. 

“it’s just-”

“a breakup song?”

“no! no,” you exclaim, still trying to read his face, “it’s kind of a ‘please don’t make me break up with you’ song,” you let out the last part quietly, now looking back down at your fruit again.

“is this about the other night? at the club? or the weekend before?”

“i mean kind of all of it,” you shrug off honestly, “you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“fine,” he answers, quiet and solemn, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“why are you sorry?” you ask, finally looking up at him again.

“you clearly don’t trust me, and i know i have a history, i get it, i really do, but-”

“but what?” you cut him off, relieved that he finally may be understanding your point of view, “lando i know we’re young and rich and we can go out and have fun-”

“y/n-” lando attempts to butt in, however you keep going.

“no, lando, let me finish. i know that we are young and stupid but that is us as individuals. i don’t want to have to keep going on fucking podcasts or talk shows where i have to explain why my boyfriend is acting single! it’s one thing to have fun, it’s another to embarrass the shit out of me,” you huff out your feelings, and finally the weight on your chest seemingly disappears. 

“i’m sorry, y/n," he sighs out, running a hand down his face, "i guess i’m just used to not dating other famous people and forgot that it can impact your career too, i’m used to it only affecting mine,” lando begins to move towards you, his hands finding their home on your waist. 

“it’s fine, like i said, i understand,” you breathe into his chest as you hug him, “i just needed to relieve that stress, and writing does that for me,”

“i get it,” he replies, his left hand coming to rub your back, soothing you further into his arms, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lando,”

-

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

-

it was finally your album release party a few months later. lando, along with his family and friends were there as well as your whole team and your friends and family. your fresh single had broken records and skyrocketed with presales for your album which would be fully released at midnight. to say you were on a high was an understatement. as you sat next to lando in your finest dress, he squeezed your hand a few times, bringing you back down to earth. 

“are you alright?” he nudges you quietly, distracting you from your upcoming speech. 

“i sing in front of stadiums, lan,” you chuckle, “i think a speech won’t kill me,” you whisper back to him.

“i know,” he laughs, “just making sure,”

“thank you, love,” you kiss his cheek just as your manager pulls you away from him and near the stage. your producer was giving a speech before you, and he was just about to introduce you for yours. 

“and now, the lady you’ve been waiting for all evening, y/n y/l/n!” he cries out, the venue erupting in cheers of encouragement as you waltz across the stage to the mic. giving your producer a light hug and a kiss on each cheek, you stop in front of the microphone and clear your throat to begin. 

“i just want to say, first off, thank you to everyone who came tonight. i’m absolutely sure it wasn’t because of the free alcohol and food provided,” you chuckle with the rest of the crowd at your brief joke before continuing.

“as always, being able to even make an album and live out my dream is a blessing, so thank you to everyone who always makes that possible. that would easily be my manager, my production team, and my fans, you guys are the best and i wouldn’t be here without you,”

you pause again briefly for the crowd to cheer in acknowledgment and proceed, “my family and friends, you all never stopped believing in me and there is no way i would be on this stage right now if it weren’t for your support,” one more pause and a deep breath before you begin again. 

“and finally, lando,” your teary eyes meet his as you spot max fewtrell giving him a few playful jabs to the shoulder.

“you are and will forever be my muse, my light, my inspiration, and my heart. thank you, for your patience, for your love, and for trusting me with your heart,” you begin to choke up, leading you to swallow your tears as the crowd begins to ‘awe’, “i love you, lan. this album wouldn’t be possible without you, and i wouldn’t be the woman i am today without you by my side. thank you,” you finish off, blowing a kiss in his direction as he quickly wipes a tear from his eye. he wouldn’t embarrass you, he wouldn’t even think about risking the joy you bring him everyday. 

-

Please, please, please (Please)

Please, please, please (Please)

Please (Please), please (Please), please

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I know plenty of people have already made a version of the "Jinx is alive" theory post but I've also seen so many of you mourn her death that I decided to gather all the evidence and make another post, turning this theory into a fact.

Because Jinx is alive. It's not a speculation. It's literally there.

The first thing I'm going to mention are the context clues Jinx gives herself. First, the last thing the ghost of Silco tells her. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away. Then, the realization she comes to when Vi hugs her in the cell. You're never gonna give up on me, are you? What she tells Vi after she leaves her in that cell. You don't need to worry about me anymore. [...] And yes, her initial plan is to kill herself, because she thinks the only way for Vi to move on is for her to be gone. And Ekko gets there just in time to stop her but it looks like he doesn't convince her to abandon her plan, just change it.

And later, when she joins Vi in the final fight. What does she tell her? Still don't get it, huh, sis? I'm always with you. Even when we're worlds apart.

Everything that happens after is constructed specifically to let us and Vi believe that Jinx died. Until we get to this scene:

Caitlyn is studying the Hexgates designs.

She's looking through the pages depicting the place where the final fight happened, specifically focusing on the air vent shafts, while toying with a monkey bomb head - the same monkey bomb that Jinx used in her supposed last monents.

She looks down at the monkey...

Watch the eyes. The realization hits her...

And she smirks, knowing. Jinx used one of the air vents to escape before the explosion.

I've studied the explosion frame by frame. First, a small yellow explosion goes off - Jinx sets off the monkey bomb.

As it becomes bigger, she shoots out of there

this is still the beginning of the blast when we can still see her, and the big boom that destroys everything starts 10 frames later

Last context clue is a reference to the very first episode, which is clearly depicted in this gifset here, so instead of explaining, I'll just send you there to check for yourselves.

One thing that is speculation here is, how exactly did Caitlyn come into possession of the monkey bomb head? I doubt she found it there because it would have been turned to dust. And I'm thinking, Jinx took it with her and left it for Cait to find as a clue. She didn't want Vi to know but maybe she wanted Cait to figure it out. I imagine her sneaking into her house and maybe leaving it somewhere for Cait to find, like her desk or something. It gives Cait an idea, a gut feeling she needs to check, and that allows her to figure it out. Just like we are supposed to figure it out on our own.

Bottom line, Jinx is alive. She escaped the explosion through the air vents, then boarded the airship and left the city, convinced that the only way to give her sister a happy ending is to take herself out of the equation. The glitching closing shot saying The End in Jinx's colorful handwriting is a sign that she is telling us that this is where this story ends, like she's saying "don't look for me. It's over." That's also probably why we aren't shown what Caitlyn does with the information she now possesses.

I hope this helps take away from the grief 💙

[ripcupid]

Maybe a Sevika x enforcer!y/n perhapsss?

୨୧ you being an enforcer but also an informant/ fuck buddy to sevika you can’t help but be worried when hearing abt plans to attack Zaun

୨୧ word count: 2.2k

୨୧ this is so like forbidden love type shit but fwb as well idk also ngl I’m almost done writing sev smut I got like 1 more then I can move on to other characters. Not saying I won’t write it but yk

Happy new year y’all I’m like one of the first sev smuts in 2025 omg 🤭

As you approach the private section of The Last Drop, Sevika looks up from her cards, giving you a sly smile before placing down her next play. The men around groan when they lose making Sevika chuckle mockingly as she scoops up her earnings. She taunts the men, leaning back in her seat as she shoos them away with a flick of her hand. You give a curt to the men as they grumble and walk away, leaving you and Sevika alone in the private section. "So," Sevika starts, taking a drag from the cigarette hanging from her scarred full lips— god those lips.

"What brings you here, officer?" She asks, eyeing you up and down with a mischievous glint in her eye. You suck your teeth at her before sitting down in one of the chairs across from her. "We need to talk," you say, avoiding eye contact with her piercing gray eyes as she stares at you intently, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Not with you sitting all the way over there," Sevika teases, moving to make room for you in the booth next to her, "We're not strangers, c'mere," she says, her voice low and inviting. You sigh and slide into the booth, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you.

"I'm being serious, Sevika," you groan, but Sevika just chuckles and moves closer.

"That's what you always say," Sevika replies, resting her head on her hand, her smirk widening as she blows smoke in your direction before putting out her cigarette. "Just tell me, baby."

You roll your eyes and fan away the smoke, trying to ignore the way her smell of cigarettes and mahogany clouds your senses and makes your cunt ache. "It's the other enforcers," you begin, stopping to glare at the woman as you feel her staring at you, her eyes fixed intently on your face before she nods for you to continue. "They're planning a strike team to attack Zaun, they're gonna neutralize anyone still loyal to Silco… like you."

Sevika chuckles, her mech hand brushing your hair out of your face as she scoots up right next to you. "I don't care about that right now," she whispers, her breath warm against your face as she leans in to kiss your cheek."You think they can kill me, hm?" she asks against your skin, her lips moving to your jaw before trailing down your neck. You sigh softly, closing your eyes and your restraint slipping at the feeling of her lips on your neck.

"This is serious, Sev, I want you to be safe," you murmur, dropping your head back to give her better access.

"You worried about me or something?" she asks, her voice teasing as she sucks gently on your skin, smirking when you grab onto her thigh in response.

"No," you breathe out, the both of you knowing that you're lying out of your ass.

"Really?" She grins, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you nod, "I think you're lying."

"I'm not," you say, unable to hide the grin that tugs at your lips as her lips brush against yours, pecking you softly.

"You sure?" Sevika teases back, pecking you again. You nod, biting back your grin as your eyes flick from her eyes to her lips, unable to stop yourself from leaning in and capturing them in a heated kiss. Sevika's lips move hungrily against yours, her hand sliding down the front of your shirt making you arch into her touch.

As the kiss deepens, Sevika's mech hand slips under your shirt, cupping and groping your tits with a firm grip. You moan into the kiss, shivering under her as the cool metal circles around your hardened nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. You pull back slightly, panting softly as you look up at Sevika before looking around the bar. "Don’t worry, no one knows you're an enforcer," she laughs, slipping away from you and sitting back, taking a sip of her forgotten drink.

"Yeah, but what if someone saw?" you ask, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach as her mech hand rests on your thigh, stroking lightly. She sits up, leaning in closer, her voice low in your ear as she whispers, "My place is close by… you know if you want." You feel a rush of excitement at her invitation, looking back at Sevika with a smirk before nodding towards the door.

"Let’s go."

That's how you find yourself in Sevika's apartment, the air thick with anticipation and tension as she leans against the kitchen counter, pulling out a cigarette from a nearby pack.

She crosses her arms, resting the unlit cigarette between her lips as she watches you with a hungry gaze as you look around the dimly lit living room.

"This is so not what I expected," you blurt out as you walk over to Sevika, her eyes trailing down your body. You grab the nearby lighter, flicking it open and holding the flame to her cigarette, a small smile playing on her lips. "What did you expect?" she asks, holding your hip in a possessive grip as she takes a long drag from the cigarette.

"I don't know," you shrug, wrapping your arms around her neck. "I was thinking something more Sevika -like, I guess." Sevika chuckles, taking another drag of her cigarette.

"There are things you don't know about me, officer," she whispers with a smirk, leaning down to speak in your ear, her lips just inches away from yours when she pulls back.

"Mhm, like what?" you ask, taking the cigarette from her and bringing it to your lips, inhaling deeply. She pulls you flush against her chest, looking down into the small space between you.

"Like I really wanna kiss you right now," she teases, her voice low as she holds your face in her human hand, ghosting her lips over yours.

The tension between you is palpable as you hold her gaze, blowing the smoke from your lips into her mouth. "What's stopping you?" you whisper back, dropping the cigarette in the ashtray. Sevika loses her composure in that moment, smashing her lips against yours in a heated kiss, her hands gripping your waist tightly.

You tangle your fingers in her hair, feeling heat pooling in your stomach and moaning softly as her hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly. Sevika effortlessly picks you up, making you gasp as she carries you to the nearby couch.

Her lips never leave yours as she lays you down gently, pressing her body against yours and slipping her tongue into your mouth. You can't help but let out a soft moan of her name as she trails kisses down your neck, slipping her hand under your shirt.

She pulls away, watching as your chest rises and falls as you scramble to pull off your shirt, revealing the pretty bra underneath. She hums to herself in approval as she pushes your bra over your tits, exposing them to the room's warm air.

Her hands trailing up your sides, cupping and fondling your tits making your arch into her. You bite your lips in anticipation, staring down at Sevika as she leans in to take one of your nipples into her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the bud, closing her eyes as she sucks gently, savoring the sounds of your sweet moans. You run your fingers through her hair, tugging in surprise when she pinches your other nipple between her fingers, sending a jolt of pleasure to your cunt.

Sevika looks up at you, a smirk playing on her lips as she moves to your other nipple, kissing and licking it before groaning, "I love these tits, baby." You arch your back, whining softly as you push your chest closer to her eager mouth. She sucks on the bud, groping the other to make you writhe beneath her.

"Fuck you look so good, Sev," you whisper, cradling the back of her head as she stares up at you. "You feel even better," you breathe with a smile, dropping your head back in pleasure.

She chuckles softly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine before she pulls back with an obscene pop. "Thank you, baby," she murmurs, coming up to kiss your chin and exposed neck as her hand wanders down to your pants.

Sevika slips her human hand in your pants, dropping her head in the crook of your neck as she feels the wetness pooling between your legs. "Fuck, you're just that easy, huh?" she teases, cupping your clothes cunt, just barely rubbing your aching clit.

“Shut up," you moan as you push her shoulder playfully, your face heats up with embarrassment. "Just take them off already," you whisper, holding onto her tightly as she sits up. As Sevika makes quick work of your pants, tossing them aside, you run your hands over her abs, feeling the hard muscles ripple beneath her shirt.

"Since when were you so desperate?" she chuckles, guiding your hand down her body and under her shirt.

"You're so hot, want you so bad, Sevi." You stare up at Sevika, chewing on your bottom lip as she pulls off her shirt, unable to keep your hands off her.

"I can tell, baby but I wanna fuck you first," Sevika teasingly whispers as she hovers over you, pushing down your panties just enough to expose your drooling cunt. "You gonna let me do that?" You nod eagerly, grinding your cunt against nothing but air as Sevika's fingers drift down to your throbbing clit, ghosting over the sensitive bud.

"Fuck yes baby," you pant, gripping the couch cushions, "need your fingers inside me now." Sevika smirks, circling your clit as she sucks lightly on your neck, nipping the soft skin with her teeth. “Yeah, baby?” She taunts, dipping her fingers lower to feel how you clench around nothing.

“Yes please,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as she teases your entrance. She looks down between your legs, huffing against your skin as she slides a finger inside you, feeling your walls clench around her.

"Look at that, bet it'll be so easy for me to just slip another in," she taunts, watching your jaw drop as she adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you.

Your back arches off the couch, air getting caught in your throat as Sevika curls her perfect fingers, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl and your thighs tremble.

"That's good?" she asks against your parted lips. Sevika smiles when you nod eagerly, your eyes glazed over as you hold onto her tightly.

"It's perfect, Sevi," you moan, rocking your hips against her hand. Sevika's grin widens as she picks up the pace, relishing in the way your nails dig into her back, your moans growing louder with each thrust. "Yeah, just like that," you gasp, scratching her back before moving a hand to tangle in her hair.

Sevika's movements become more urgent once you tug on her hair, panting heavily. She starts to grind against you, her arousal becoming impossible to ignore as you whisper, "Please let me touch you."

Sevika nods, your eager hand slipping in her pants, a low moan leaving the both of you as your fingers make contact with her neglected clit. The space between you two fills with the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans as your fingers work in sync with hers, bringing each other closer and closer to the edge. Sevika drops her head on your shoulder, biting down on her lip to stifle her moans as she grinds on your fingers.

"Christ, you feel so fucking good," she gasps, making you giggle breathlessly as you slide your fingers inside her, feeling her jaw go slack as she lets out a loud moan.

As you feel yourself nearing the edge, you whine mindlessly, "I wanna make you cum, Sev, please cum with me." Sevika arches her back and grabs onto the cushions tightly as she captures your lips in a searing kiss, her fingers never faltering in their rhythm.

"You're doin’ good, fuck 'm so close, baby," Sevika moans into the kiss, grinding her palm against your clit with fervor to push you over the edge. You moan her name loudly as you come around her fingers, keeping your fingers buried deep inside her as your eyes squeeze shut.

You continue to thrust your fingers in and out of her, feeling her walls pulse around you as she reaches her climax, struggling to hold herself up. Sevika collapses against you, breathing heavily as you slip your fingers out of her, bringing them up to your lips. She rests on your chest, watching as you suck on your fingers, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "You taste so good, Sev," you whisper, stroking her hair with your other hand and making her grin in response.

"Yeah? Lemme see," Sevika says playfully, leaning up to kiss you deeply.

The taste of her still lingers on your tongue as she slips hers into your mouth, deepening the kiss and moaning softly against your lips. "I think you're right but not as good as you," Sevika murmurs between kisses, causing you to giggle and pull her back down on your chest.

Why am I lowkey sick rn 😒

[daenysx]

hiiii I’m not sure if you take nsfw requests but I was thinking about if modern aemond’s gf was too stressed that it was taking longer for her to finish and she fakes her climax, how aemond would react? If you don’t do nsfw just maybe something similar where she is so stressed but won’t communicate it and his reaction when she hides it from him?

soft!aemond is back!! i mean kind of lol. i really hope you like this, i'm taking nsfw requests if you have any, thank you for requesting! <333 (title is from a lana del rey song, the pics aren't mine i got them from pinterest)

wc: 2.9k

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut ♡ (also fluff, tiny tiny bit of angst?)

burning desire

aemond is in a good mood this evening.

the summer rain hits the window, you kiss your boyfriend to the sound of rain. aemond's body is a nice weight against your body. he kisses you calmly, long fingers rub the soft skin of your waist.

your head is full of things these days. you try to stop overthinking, you're unable to sleep at nights, mindlessly scrolling your phone for hours just because you can't solve any problems. there's not much to solve, not really, you only have to wait to settle down with everything that keeps your mind busy. it's not so easy, though, you're impatient, sometimes eager to doubt yourself and every little decision you made. the stress weighs down on you. you focus on aemond's lips instead.

he's been out of town for the past week. now, he's on your bed with you laying under him. he doesn't say how much he missed you but the kisses are the proof of it. he makes little sounds, doesn't stop until you are desperate for breathing. he looks at you through a hazy eye, his pretty lips swollen and pinkish.

"i missed you." you mumble. "it's hard to deal with things without you."

aemond looks at you with an unreadable expression. you think he likes what you say, he enjoys how much you want him with you. he smiles slyly, fucking attractive, he's gonna test all your patience.

he holds the back of your neck without saying anything, fingers curled in your hair to pull your head back. your entire neck is exposed, you moan when he presses his lips on your pulse point. he gives you a big kiss, the kind of kiss you could lose your mind over. he doesn't leave a mark but it's still nice. his lips draw a line on your collarbone.

"i missed you, too." he says, quietly. "pretty girl."

his fingers play with the waistband of your shorts. the sound of thunderstorm is louder when you're both quiet. aemond pushes your tank top to your breasts, he kisses your belly. you push yourself against his mouth, feeling him loving on you is so nice. he plays with you until you arch your back, you look at him with widened eyes.

"please." you say. he kisses your hipbone.

"gotta tell me what you want." he says. "you know you won't get it otherwise."

his devilish smirk makes your thighs clench. you take a deep breath, your mind feels like it's full of empty bubbles. his touch is cool against your bare skin, he rubs the back of your thighs with his huge hands.

"i'm waiting." he says, gets on his knees on bed. "tell me."

you lift your hips to show what you want. "can you take it off?" you ask. you take your tank top off without asking him. his eye shines when he sees your bare chest.

"of course." he tells you, his fingers move on your shorts. "such a nice girl."

you get more and more impatient with each second. aemond takes off his shirt, your hands touch all the way on his chest to his happy trail. his hipbones are sharp against the fabric of his pants, your breathing quickens to the image of his defined muscles. you can see the outline of his half hard cock, aemond tilts his head back and groans when you touch him through his pants.

"wait." he says. "i'm not gonna last if you keep touching me like that."

you just squeeze him gently one last time. "you didn't even take your clothes off." you say cheekily. "i wanna touch you without them." you whisper.

aemond smiles. it's a perfect smile, his lips curved because of your obvious desire. he sees how hard your nipples get with chilly air of the room, your panties getting wetter as you touch him, your eyes have the look of want and something different in them. he is quick to get rid of his clothes as you wish. you don't move until he gets back on top of you, only the thin fabric of your panties separates you from his cock.

he kisses you for a good minute. you cup his cheeks, happy to hide from the world with his long hair falling around your face. he presses himself to your center, it feels different than it used to. you don't know the reason, maybe you missed him too much, maybe your body tries to remember how his touch affects you. he's more patient than you, even though it's clear how much he needs to release.

"aemond." you mumble, wrapping your legs around his waist at the same time.

"hmm?" he sucks your jawline softly. he's so pretty, you think you'll lose your mind.

"i feel like-" you start, unable to finish any thought. your mind is too full these days. "can you please do something?"

you press yourself harder against him with the last piece of strength you could find. aemond pushes your panties aside. your cunt glints with the wetness but he still wants to prepare you. "it's okay." he reassures you. your eyes are closed, like you're trying to focus. "you just gotta be patient for me, okay?"

you nod. aemond thinks you might be the sweetest thing in his world. he pushes a finger inside you gently with his thumb on your clit. you moan silently, your body needs to relieve the tension, it keeps you awake every night. aemond moves his finger slowly, getting as many sounds from you as he can to guide himself. you part your legs for him, he settles down.

you feel like you're lost in the feelings he gives you. it's weird for a second then it's not. he pushes a second finger in, the stretch is tight but he likes it very much when you clench around him. "aemond, hmm-" you make incoherent sounds. you hold his face to kiss him as his fingers work inside you.

"do you feel good?" he asks. "is it good, baby?"

fuck, you love it so much when he calls you baby. you nod, saying yes three times. his touch is fire, you don't escape. he is hard against your leg, so hard, so bold. you moan again, your brain goes through a haze.

aemond keeps fingering you, his thumb rubs your clit with circles. the touch is nice to feel, you tilt your head back when it gets unbearable. he smiles wickedly as you keep saying his name. you look like you're lost in him.

"are you gonna come for me?" he asks with slow words against your ear. you think you will. "gonna be my nice girl and come around my fingers?"

his words feel wonderful and for a second you really believe you'll come against his hand. you try to open your eyes, aemond keeps moving his fingers quicker. you think you need to push yourself against him to make your body relax. it'll work. it always does.

but then it doesn't. your body doesn't relax, it's still too tense, too tight. you make a sound as if you're coming, aemond's eye is closed. you don't know why it happens, you feel like somethin's wrong. it's never happened before. your voice is too real to him, for a second he actually believes you orgasmed. you don't say anything.

it feels like you'll disappoint him if you say it was fake. you didn't do it on purpose and your body surprised even you, you faked an orgasm for the first time with aemond. you feel upset for a moment, his fingers get still inside you. you put your poor body on bed, quit arching your back. your mind places walls between you and your pleasure.

your boyfriend opens his eye to your tired face. he pulls his fingers, giving you a smile. he's still undeniably hard but he doesn't move, waiting for you to say something.

"what-" he begins, you reach for his hand. "are you okay?"

you think he'll be upset to find out you faked your pleasure. he definitely would understand if you tell him but you still feel tired. you feel hungry for his touch, hungry for a piece of relief. you don't know how to control your mind, how to ease off your worries and all the stress you've been carrying.

"i'm okay." you say. you squeeze his fingers.

"i don't believe it." he says, sitting on bed. "you don't look okay, did i- did i hurt you?"

you shake your head quickly. "no, of course not. i would tell you, you know it."

"then what?" he asks. he pushes his hair back. "you never look like this after you come, i'm sure of it. you should tell me if something's wrong."

you force yourself to sit next to him. your hand is still holding his. "nothing's wrong." you begin, trying to find words. "it's just-"

aemond holds your cheek in his hand. "tell me." he demands softly.

"i was sure, i was gonna finish." you say. it's the truth. "but i couldn't, not really. i mean it felt good but-"

"you didn't finish." he completes. "but you sounded like-"

"i didn't mean to fake it, i promise." you say. "i thought it would be okay, like it always is but- it didn't, but i'd never fake it with you."

aemond's face is strange, like he's embarrassed. he's thinking. is it his fault? did he fail to take care of you? did you need to fake it to finish early? he likes giving you pleasure, he likes giving what you ask of him. he knows you trust him enough to let him take care of you, and he likes it so much when you take care of him. the bond between you two is something precious, it upsets him to see you unsure and sad about it.

"i should've prepared you better." he says. "maybe you weren't ready. i was fast."

"no." you say, kissing his cheek to get closer. "it's probably because i'm too much in my head these days. it's nothing to do with you, baby, you know stress can have these kind of effects."

"what's bothering you?" aemond asks gently. "why are you so stressed?"

"i don't know." you answer honestly. "i really don't. it's too many things about the school and other stuff, and you weren't here. it's easy to get lost in problems when you're not around."

he pulls you to his lap. rain hits harder on windows. "you know- you know you can tell me anything. i'd never force you to have sex with me if you're not in the mood. if i'd known-"

"no!" you stop him. it's far from what happened and this time he gets in his head. "i wanted it so much. i still want it, aemond, i promise. i need you, i need to relax. i just don't know how to do it- how to get out of my head."

"do you still want it?" he asks, just to be sure. "do you want me to make you come?"

you nod, taking a breath to relax the tension on your shoulders. "please."

"i can talk you through it." he says, putting your body on bed under him. "if you can only focus on my voice and nothing else, i can help you relax."

"but what if i-"

"it's okay if you can't finish." he interrupts you. "don't go hard on yourself. you just gotta tell me when it does and doesn't feel good."

"okay." you say, desperate to feel his hands all over you again. it feels good to ask for his help.

"good." he says, with a deep voice. "i'll make you feel better." he promises.

your head goes back to let him kiss your neck, he kisses the same spots as he did minutes ago. you hold his hand, it doesn't take too much for him to get hard again. it's been a week since you last had sex. aemond doesn't like touching himself without you ever since you first made him come. it's addicting to feel your softness against his cock, he feels poorly when he tries to do it himself.

"i need it." you say, numbly. "please."

he holds your waist, kissing the top of your cunt softly. "trust me." he says. "don't worry."

he kisses your swollen clit. it aches with want, you want to have him so much, it hurts your head. he sucks to relieve a bit of tension. "yes." you whisper. "more, please."

he sucks for a nice minute. you part your legs, your wetness mixes with his spit. he's never been ashamed with his intentions but he feels bolder this time. pressing his cock to soft bed under him, he grunts against your cunt.

"i can't take it." you cry. "you need to do something, i feel like i'm losing my mind."

he kisses your belly. "sweetheart." he speaks softer than he ever does. "you're not losing your mind. you just need to be patient with yourself."

you feel a teardrop roll on your cheek out of pleasure. "okay." you say, pulling him back on his spot between your legs.

when he's sure you're wet enough, aemond strokes his cock. the tip of it is dark pink, so sensitive, so needy. he knows he'll feel good when he gets inside of you, he rubs himself nicely before placing himself properly against your hole.

"are you okay?" he asks against your ear. you nod, he relaxes. his back arching towards you gracefully, his cock finally getting what it wants as he pushes himself inside slowly.

you moan, tilting your head back. it's so sweet, you sound wet when he pushes a bit more. he moves his hips carefully, grunts softly when he can breathe against your chest.

"you feel so good, you know that?" he asks, almost begging. "i missed having you like this, all mine, all needy for me."

"i missed you, too." you cry out. the pleasure is blinding when he presses his fingers on your wet clit. "i missed you so much." you hug him, it's more intimate than it ever has been. rain sounds cover your little whispers, you kiss the skin beneath his ear.

"never gonna leave you again." he promises. he keeps moving, pushing himself fully inside. "never gonna leave you lost in your pretty head."

"please." you say. "please, baby, help."

you're too sweet on him, calling him baby when he's desperate to get you come. he feels himself getting closer to his peak but that's not his priority right now.

he hits your g-spot for the first time that evening and you moan loudly. he smiles, kissing your forehead. "relax." he says. "i got you."

"right there." you mumble. "so- so good."

he moves gracefully, hitting the same spot over and over again, his stamina helps him delaying his own climax. you're all spread out under him, he sucks one of your nipples when your chest gets heavy with deep breaths. he holds your hands on top of your head, fucking into you sweetly with hard motions.

"i can feel it." he says. "you're so close, right? so pretty, you should see yourself."

"close." you murmur. "i need it."

he keeps fucking you until you finally snap. your mind goes blank, it's all him. his scent overwhelmes you, surrounds you and there's nothing else. aemond targaryen is everywhere, he doesn't stop until the tightness disappears. arching your back for the last time, your wetness stains the sheets.

aemond can't keep himself any longer. "come for me." you beg. "please, come for me, i need to feel you."

who's he to deny your wishes? he comes hard, grunting, moaning your name. your thighs, your cunt, the sheets, all covered in white cum. he lets out a breath, shaken up by your cunt. "fuck." he whispers, putting his head on your chest. he's spent.

it takes a few minutes for you to get back to yourself. your fingers in his hair, his hands around you, his head on your chest. you stay like this until your mind feels like you again. you are exhausted, finally feel like you'll get a good night sleep.

"that felt pretty real to me." aemond teases when he lifts his head to see you.

"it was." you smile. "it felt so good."

aemond leaves the bed to get a clean towel from the bathroom. he comes back, cleans you up as good as he can. "help me, sweetheart." he says. "can you lift your hips?"

you do as he says, he leaves again. you feel good, your muscles spent for him, your head in that hazy space. you have a lovesick smile on your face when aemond comes back, wearing a clean pair of boxers.

"you'll get cold." he says, helping you wear one of his shirts and clean panties. "it's still raining."

"it's nice." you whisper. "can we sleep now?"

aemond kisses the side of your head. "yes. after you drink this."

he hands you a glass of water, you take three sips. aemond joins you under the covers, you wrap yourself around him instantly. he rubs your shoulder softly, you kiss his neck before burying yourself against him.

"thank you." you whisper. "for taking care of me."

"you think i could leave my girl alone when she needs me?" he says with a low voice. "i'm glad you never need to fake anything with me."

"i trust you." you say, finally falling asleep on him. three words aemond has barely heard before he met you. he thinks it's a nice weight to carry someone's trust. especially yours. you trust him with your body, with your mind. he kisses your head. your hand twitch against his waist in your sleep. he holds your hand through the night.

♡

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi! It's me again! 🤗

I was reading about the awful things that happened to Aegon in the brothel. Him so desperately trying to be taken care of and only finding more abuse broke my heart 🥺 and also got me thinking... What if he doesn't have a good, loving wife to make it all better? 😭 What if instead, one of the workers (Reader) finally takes pity on him and treats him the way he needs so much? Taking him away from the awful workers and under her wing? I imagine he would become instantly addicted. Never letting other worker touch him again. Only accepting her services. I bet he would get possessive as well. Paying an enormous amount of gold to be the only one that can touch her.

Do you think he would dare bring her to live in the castle? Or even more scandalous, actually MARRY her? Or he would be too scared of his pious mother's reaction (as well as the rest of the kingdoms') to a whore becoming queen? There is also the possibility of him just gifting her a big house with servants, close to the castle, so he can visit whenever he wants needs... Sooooo many possibilities! 😳

What do you think?

Oh my god. Are you sure you don't want to take over this blog because this is INCREDIBLE??? I am obsessed. I actually think I'm gonna tag this with 'subby Aegon!au' so that we can discuss this more and you guys can easily use the tag to find everything about this because I fear this may be my new obsession.

Anyway, NSFW sub!aegon that starts very angsty but has a happy ending under the cut!!

So for anyone who missed the post that inspired this, we were discussing how Aegon would know he was a submissive and go to a brothel to submit to the workers there. He desperately wants to just be loved and cared for and feel like a good boy but none of the workers will do that and he doesn't quite have the language to explain what he wants/needs. So instead he just ends up going through all this abuse and humiliation and degradation just to hear them say he did well at the end. He always goes into subdrop afterwards and he feels so terrible but he also can't stop going because it's the only time that he actually feels like he's good enough.

For this AU, I think it makes the most sense that you first encounter Aegon after he's had a scene with someone else? Cause Aegon always pays very VERY well and so the brothel workers who have dominated him always ensure that no one else can lay with him because they want all that money? Like maybe the madam of the brothel you work at has a very strict rule that no one other than her is allowed to lay with the king. Of course there's plenty of rumours going around the brothel about what he likes he and pretty much everyone knows that the madam dominates him.

You first encounter Aegon after he finished a particularly brutal scene with the madame. Half an hour later when the madam wants to use that room again he's still laying there? He hasn't even gotten dressed, is just laying there with a thin blanket wrapped around himself.

The madam does not want to deal with him because she knows from experience that he gets all clingy and weepy after a scene and so she sends you in to kick him out. Well, she tells you to kick him out.

But then you walk in and he just... he looks so small? You slowly walk over and gently place your hand on his shoulder. He jumps up and scrambles off the bed, mumbling apologies because he knows the madam told him to leave and he still hadnt.

You quickly tell him it's alright, that he's done nothing wrong and the look he gives you is just so heartbreaking? He's all wide eyed and shocked and there's a very very small smile on his face when he whispers, "Really? I... you're sure? I'm good?"

Which, yeah there's no way you're kicking him out now. You help him get back into his clothes and then take him to your private room. The rule is supposed to be no clients in the personal quarters, but this is quite literally the king so you don't see anyone complaining.

You keep an arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him like that and he just leans against you? You can't believe that the madam doesn't stay with him after she dominates him, especially because he's just so sweet? He's leaning against you, mumbling thanks and letting you lead him without complaint. He's so sweet and vulnerable and you can't believe the madam would leave him and not care for him.

He's so shocked when he finds himself in your private quarters, and he's even more surprised when you wet a rag and gently clean the tears off his face. He leans into every one of your touches, trying to soak up as much attention as he can.

You ask him if you can undress him again so you can clean him properly, and he just starts sobbing and throws himself in your arms because he can't believe how lucky he is. You just hold him and tell him that he's doing so good, that you just want to get him cleaned up a little more and then he can take a nice nap with you.

He closes his eyes and cries silently as you clean him. There are welts on his back from the madam's whip so you have to ensure you clean them properly or risk infection. You expect to have to clean dried cum from between his thighs but to your surprise there's nothing?

When you ask, he just wines and mumbles, "Wasnt good, couldnt cum" which just breaks your heart because you refuse to entertain any possibility that this sweet little thing wasnt absolutely perfect.

You finish cleaning him and you're about to help him get his clothes back on when he just kinda collapses onto the bed. You don't even bother with that then and instead you just get into bed with him.

"Come here," you tell him, opening your arms and he immediately dives right in. You hold him tight and when you press a kiss to the e top of his head he just melts into you.

When he wakes, he's hard. He tries to apologise for it but you won't hear it, and you ask if you can help him. He tries to shake his head and say that he can't go through that again, but then you interrupt him and promise him that you only mean helping him cum and do nothing else.

He's so sweet when you stroke him, mumbling how good it feels and begging to cum and after he does, he even takes your hand and licks it clean? He's just the bed boy and he's clearly trying so so hard to please you, so you make sure to praise him constantly because the poor thing deserves it.

The next time he comes to the brothel, he tells the madam to get lost and asks for you. He won't even consider another, not after you cared for him and praised him and made him feel safe. Of course the madam is not happy about this, but she cant stop him and so he goes to the room and waits for you.

When you walk in and ask why he's asked for you, he just says that he really liked you from before. And then he actually looks nervous? Like you might tell him that he has to go back to the madam.

You tell him that as much as you'd love to, you can't do what the madam does to him. You explain that you can't degrade him or slap him or anything like that. But then he just smiles even wider and tells you he doesn't want that, he just wants what you did last time.

He seems all blushy and nervous and there's a very obvious tent in his breeches. You smirk then and say, "Aw, do you want me to take care of you? Yeah? Let me do all the thinking and you can just be my pretty good boy?"

Instantly he's slipping from the bed and down onto his knees, kneeling and nodding comically quick because yes. That's everything he's ever wanted and more.

And he's just so good for you? He listens to every single order, and he begs so prettily and his sounds are just insane. When it's over, you pull him into your chest and kiss his head and tell him he did so so well for you. He's just on cloud nine, because this is absolutely everything he's ever wanted and more.

When he leaves, he pays you double what he pays the Madam and when you tell him that's too much, he says that there's no amount of gold in the world that could be enough to thank you for how you looked after him. He asks if he can come back, if you'll let him do that again and of course you agree to let him.

The madam isnt happy with you of course, but she can't exactly force the king to lay with her instead. For about three weeks things continue like that, with Aegon visiting every few days and paying you very very handsomely. He always stays for a few hours after this, just getting cuddles and kisses.

After a while, the madam comes to you and is unhappy that Aegon will not be with anyone else. Aegon pays very handsomely and he also lets them basically beat him up, so of course the madam is unhappy that she no longer get aegon's time. Aegon, meanwhile, will not even look at another.

The next time Aegon comes to the brothel, you're with another client? As much as you wish that you could just see Aegon, if you did that then the madam would kick you out. The madam is overjoyed when Aegon walks in and you're with another client, because it means she can swoop in and tell Aegon you're busy but that she'd be more than happy to do it instead.

And Aegon just... he knew that obviously you had other clients, but knowing and actually being there while you were with someone else are two different things. His smile falls instantly, and he says that he doesn't want anyone else. The madam tries again, maybe even touching him and telling him to think about all the good times they had, which prompts him to stumble backwards and very firmly say that he won't be seeking the services of anyone else.

He ends up leaving the brothel and then comes back the following night and is so so relieved to find that you are free. He's much more whiney and clingy than you're used to, to the point where he cries if you even let go of his hand. You end up having to pull away o ask what's going on, because he seems very distressed. You hadnt seen him like that since you took care of him that first night.

He gets quiet and then eventually asks how many other men you see every day. You sigh, because you knew this question was coming and you're not sure what to say to him. You end up just saying that this is your job, and that the madam is already upset with you for being the only one he goes to so you can't risk only seeing him because then you'd almost certainly be kicked out of the brothel entirely and have no wear to live.

Before you had even finished speaking Aegon had already made up his mind to give you enough gold that you never have to be with anyone else. You try to tell him that's not necessary, but for him it absolutely is. He will not allow the only person who makes him feel good in the entire seven kingdoms to struggle to earn a living when he is quite literally the king.

At first you turn him down, stating that you have to earn your own way and that you can't rely on him.

And then he goes quiet for a moment before he just softly says, "But, I rely on you? We can rely on each other?" Which is just the sweetest thing you've ever heard. You kiss his head and let him curl against your chest, giving him a little squeeze before telling him that you won't let him pay everything, but you will ket him pay enough to the madam that she will allow you to only take clients of your choice and also to set aside 4 nights every week that are just for him. It's not everything he wanted, but it's pretty damn close. And Aegon is so obsessed with you that he will absolutely take 4 days a week of your undivided attention.

It carries on like that for a while, with you and him being together 4 nights a week and he's just... he's so sweet and he's so perfect and he loves being with you so much. Maybe sometimes he doesn't even want anything sexual? Which yeah is wild cause Aegon is pretty much always horny, but when he's getting so thoroughly fucked every second day, sometimes he just wants to be with you.

Even when he doesn't want something sexual, that is not at all to say he doesn't still want to come be with you. Aegon would sleep in the same bed as you every single night if he could. He also just loves being able to talk to you about his day? You always listen to him and offer him advice. He's never really even able to feel like he can decompress at the end of the day, but now he's always able to with you. He knows that the moment he walks through the doors, you will know how to help him.

I think that eventually you'd accept his offer of him being your only client, and the day you tell him that he is smiling and giggling for the entire day. He definitely buys you a little cottage close to the keep, and as much as you try to say he doesn't need to, he won't hear it.

In fact he actually loves providing for you like that? You do so so much for him and he knows he'd never be able to function without you and so to know that he can do something to help you is just amazing and it makes him so so so happy.

I absolutely adore this concept!! This ask is already insanely long so I'm not gonna go any further here but if anyone else has thoughts about this let me know!!! I'd love to discuss it more :))

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[splatashahowlett]

Birthday Blues

logan howlett x reader

logan hated cake.

well, he hated this cake. the one rogue had spent her entire afternoon baking for your birthday. of course you would have wanted a cake portraying henry cavill out of anyone. even if it was horrifying to admit, logan came to the conclusion -after staring at the cake for twenty minutes- that what he felt may be, somewhat, probably, eventually, potentially close to what you call jealousy.

not because it wasn't his face on the cake, solely thinking about it sent him into a spiral of absurdity. but more because you weren't interested in him in the slightest, and that somehow upset him a little bit. he would live through it though. logan doesn't need anyone and the more people stay away from him the better. so no, he wasn't about to make a move or confess his feelings to you cause you couldn't even call those feelings... logan had never felt this foolish in a long time.

you were turning 28. you almost couldn't believe it. life hasn't been kind to you (read cruel and atrocious) and you were in peace with the fact that you weren't going to make it past 25. so celebrating your birthday, one more time, felt exhilarating. you weren't supposed to be alive still, so it felt like bonus time. and you wanted to make the most of it. "making the most of it" currently meant dancing on a table with your best friend, ororo. not caring if it could break under your sophisticated dance moves, if people love you or if you really did turn off the stove earlier.

in this moment, you couldn't care less. you felt truly happy.

and hot. you felt hot.

not in a "I feel cute" way -well, also in a "I feel cute" way- but burning hot.

you tried to scream over the music, telling ororo you were going outside. she clearly didn't hear you but you needed fresh air so you quickly gave up.

once you were outside you seated yourself on the stairs of the school. you ears were ringing and body sweating. you tried to enjoy the delicate breeze grazing over your cheeks but for some reason you couldn't relax. after a quick glance behind you, you figured your life long crush watching you might be the reason why.

"you startled me" you yelped, a hand flying to your chest.

"sorry kid" he answered, walking over to you. he sat down next to you, careful to leave lot of space between you two. you hated when he called you that. you didn't take it personally because he called everyone that but each time it felt like a sting in your heart reminding you that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, that it was impossible. you both stayed silent, not knowing what to say and how to say it.

"you looked like you were having fun back there" he said, lighting a cigar. you smiled and turned your head to look at him. you were leaving the school soon and this "ahead of time nostalgia" pushed you to do something stupid; you suddenly wanted to find out if there could be something between you. alcohol could also be a factor. so you kept your gaze on him, heart beating at an expeditious and maybe even unhealthy rate.

"I was" you nodded, "were you having fun?" you added.

"s'not really my thing" he sighed, not annoyed but more disappointed.

"having fun?" you joked, still looking at him, he glanced at you with a smile on his face. you were effortlessly soothing to him. you were his own personification of serenity.

"no, dancing and all..." he replied, still smiling.

you looked down, your smile slowly fading. "I'm gonna miss this. our nighttime conversations" you complained. logan's stare was still on you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"you're leaving?" he asked, urgently. you only nodded, saying it out loud would be heart-wrenching. you both fell silent again. you didn't know what to do, should you tell him you've been in love with him since you first saw him? should you tell him you hate him so leaving would be easier? should you stay? a thousands thoughts were rushing through your mind for what felt like an hour but really was only a long minute. this shattering turmoil was interrupted by logan standing up.

"teach me." he said, while holding out a hand. you looked up, confused.

"teach you what?" you said, though still taking his hand and following him on the grass.

"to dance, I want to learn to have fun. I want to have something left from you once you're gone" he said, straight into your eyes and you felt your breath stuck in your throat. so you took a step and captured his other hand in your free one.

"I'm no professional logan" you bantered.

"but you're more than passionate about it, it's all that matters" he answered, in all sincerity while you started guiding his steps into a slow dance. his hand was on your waist, keeping you close to his body.

"were you watching me?" you asked, feeling bold enough to flirt.

"how could I not? you seem to catch my attention in every room you walk in" he admitted, not showing how scared he was at the moment.

"why didn't you say anything sooner? why didn't you say anything when we had time?" you whimpered, on the edge of tears.

logan stopped dancing and pulled you to him. silently apologizing.

"my heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own" you muttered, in a desperate attempt to fix whatever was to be fixed. logan closed his eyes, jubilating at your confession which also broke his heart considering you both acknowledged your feelings for each other once it was too late. "kiss me" he heard.

so he did, he did kiss you. he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, because it was in a way. he knew he couldn't keep you from leaving, so he let you have a part of him with you: his heart, along with a promise of seeing each other again.

[sapphireis]

Dark/Yan Aemond HCs

ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: DARK CONTENT, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), Bad English, Toxic Relationship, Implied AFAB Reader (talk about pregnancy and stuff in a part, but for the rest pretty GN), Jealousy, Manipulation, Breeding Kink a bit, OOC?, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! ➳ Characters: Aemond Targaryen

⤠ I'd do anything for you, Mrs. Highness (Aemond) ⤟ Masterlist (soon!) ⤠ None ⤟

hello hotd fandom... pls be nice to me since this is my first time posting smth about this fandom hndhhd and I'm also very insecure about my writing rn, anyway... i wrote this mostly for myself so I'm sorry LMAO

He's so possessive and protective of you. To the point where you can't go anywhere without guards who are loyal to him, due to his paranoia. Aemond would prefer to be your guard all the time, but alas he is unfortunately a very busy man so he has to trust the guards

When you are forced to do parties or appear in public Aemond is always around you or watching you, his eye never really leaves your figure. He always has his hands over you either on your lower back, guiding you where he wants, or on your waist. To remind you who you belong to.

Heleana and Alicent are the only one who he lets be around you when he is gone to keep you company, his brother Aegon? AH. No. Maybe Daeron, but Aegon absolutely not. Why would you want to spend time with a drunken fool?

In truth he is insanely jealous about everything and everyone, including his own family. He trusts his sister and mother to not pry too much into your relationship, and in fact his mother is more of an enabler for him. She is just so glad her son finally found someone he loves and cares about, so that he isn't alone anymore. How could she deny him such happiness?

Will try to get the two of you married instant. As soon as he saw you Aemond knew he had to marry you, it doesn't matter if you are highborn or not to him. Much to his mother and grandsire's displeasure of course

Once you are married of course he's gonna make you pregnant if possible. You wouldn't try to get away from him with a child on its way no? When he has endless ways of helping you with a babe, both during the pregnancy, the birth, and the years to come. Why have it the hard way when you can live a life of luxury?

Talking about a life of luxury, Aemond will give you anything you might need and more to keep you compliant. However, some things are not negotiable like for example what you wear: its either green or sapphire blue, no other clothes are tolerated for him. If you want to be more transgressive you can wear something outside of that, though the consequences...

He's so manipulative and wouldn't care to bring the situation in his favour, and would absolutely use your own emotion against you. "If you are hurt imagine how I feel" and stuff like that is often said when you two are fighting often over nothing, if not directly about Aemond's way of treating you.

You think it's unfair, Aemond thinks you don't understand how he feels. There is a war coming and he won't always be there protecting you since he will be on the battlefield. Its only fair that he fears for your safety, no? What kind of husband would he be otherwise?

This work belongs to @/sapphireis, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡

[kimmryokoo]

Late Night - logan howlet

author: kim ryoko

masterlist

summary: logan was supposed to go to a mission that would only last 3 days. unfortunately, it took longer then expected. your birthday went by quicly and you were already sleeping when logan returned. you both really missed each other and you let a kiss turn into something bigger...

word count: 3k

warnings: figeting, smut, filthy, reader has no appetite, slight possibility of death (doesn't happend), teasing, sub reader, little fluff at the end

author's note: english isn't my first language so i'm sorry for ay grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. i'm so sorry it took me this long to publish something. i've been really busy lately. my birthday was on december 13th (the same as taylor swift🤭), so i wrote this as a sort of birthday present.

It's been days since you last saw Logan. He was out on a mission with Scott and Jean, and they left exactly 7.5 days ago when it was supposed to only last 3 days. You missed Logan very much, and tomorrow was your birthday so you were rooting for Logan and the rest of the team to arrive the night before or in the morning of the day.

It was already 11pm the day before your birthday and you were still waiting for your friends and lover to arrive while sitting in a bench on the jet garage and you then heard the big and thick metal doors sliding to open and the sound of wheels caught your attention.

“You're still here? It's getting late. You should head to bed and get a good night's sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Charles said.

“I'm just waiting for them to arrive.” you spoke with a tone filled with exhaustion, worry, hope and love, all at the same time.

“Unfortunately, I don't think they'll come back today.”

“What makes you say that, professor?”

“If they were to return, Jean would've reached to me and reported everything that happened while they were out on the mission, but she hasn't yet.” Charles argued and got a bit closer to you, now sitting next to you and putting an understanding hand on your back.

“I really wanted to spend tomorrow with them.” you said in a sad voice.

“I know. But the only thing you can do right now is go to sleep and get energized for when they do come back.” he stated in his always calm tone.

“You're right. Thank you, professor.” and before you got up to leave the room, you gave a loose hug to the older man that has supported you through so many things.

It was now the next day, 6:30 a.m. and your alarm went on with his job of waking you up. His loud rings easily made their way to your ears and woke you up with a symphony that reminded you a lot of screaming babies. To end your suffering, you quickly moved your hand to turn off the alarm.

You sat up and stared at the place where your feet were hidden under the blanket. You then looked to your side and saw the cold, empty bed you wished was filled by Logan.

You sighed and got up to prepare yourself a bath to give you enough fuel to go through the day.

After you got out of the shower and put on some clothes, you packed everything you needed for the day and when you were packing the notebook where you plan your classes, you saw something written on the page the notebook was opened, and it looked like Logan’s lettering.

‘ Hey. So, I'm pretty sure this mission ain't gonna take 3 days like those dip heads are saying, so I'm writing a note for your birthday, so you can at least hear from me that day.I know that the day you're reading this is your birthday day, because I can see the date of the classes you planned in here. First of all, happy birthday, and I want you to know that I love you. A lot. And you're honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I also want you to know that if I'm not there for your birthday, I'm dying of how much I miss you. I really hope you have a great day and that I get to see you or at least talk to you today. Love ya.

-Lo ’

Wow. Even when he's away, he somehow manages to make your day better.

You read the note and felt your heart swell with love for that man.

You finished packing everything and stepped outside the room and only a few steps later you were attacked by someone who came running towards you from your back and back-hugged you.

“Happy Birthday!” you heard the person whom you then knew was Ororo from her voice.

You turned to your friend and she immediately hugged you properly. Your smile grew wider from all the care your friend was giving you.

“Thank you, Ororo.”

“I got you a present! But I’m only going to give it to you at the end of the day.” the white haired woman said while breaking the hug and holding both your hands to continue touching you somehow.

“Then why would you tell me now?! You’re going to make me anxious all day!” you said in a pout tone but with a smile on your lips as you squeezed your friend’s hands harder.

“I know you have classes to teach, and so have I so I’m not going to take your precious time.” she grinned and kissed my cheek “Have a great day and happy birthday again!” She continued and started walking towards the direction she came from whilst waving a small ‘good-bye’ to which you responded with the same gesture and a kind and grateful smile.

You quickly arrived at your class and from that moment forward, that day was filled with people saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to you and many ‘Happy birthday’ songs.

At the end of all your classes, you decided to head back to the jet garage to wait for the team, since they haven’t arrived yet. While you were sitting on the same bench as the day before, you heard the same sound as you’ve heard the day before - heavy metal doors sliding open and metal wheels going your direction.

“What a Déjà vu, huh?” you said playfully to Charles, who chuckled softly at your statement.

“I would also say so myself. I presume you're here doing the same thing as you were yesterday?”

“Yeah.” you said looking down. The truth was that your day had been amazing, but it still felt a bit empty without Logan.

“Have you had dinner yet? It’s almost 8 p.m. .”

“No, I came here right after my classes finished. I’m just so worried. They should’ve been back by now. What if something bad happened? What if they…?”

“I’m sure it hasn’t. Have a little more faith in them. Go eat something and then I’ll let you come back here, but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep at least by 11 p.m.”

“Fine.” you responded with a tone of defeat and got up to walk to the kitchen.

You tried your best to eat a normal sized meal, but you were too worried to eat anything. You stared at your plate with a small amount of mach-and-cheese and stirred it for about 30 minutes. It took you a long time to eat all of your food, but eventually you finished and cleaned the mess you made.

You left the kitchen and saw the rest of the mansion in complete darkness. You know your way around, and your heart was telling you to go back downstairs and wait for Logan a little longer but you also knew that whether you wanted to or not, you'd make noise that would probably wake someone up and that would make you feel bad. You glance back at the clock on the kitchen wall and see it’s almost 10 p.m. and consider going straight to bed and not risking waking up any student that might make your day 10 times worse tomorrow. You end up going to your room, since you’re also pretty tired from your day.

Once you closed your bedroom door, you started doing your night routine and only a few moments after you lay on your bed, you fell asleep.

You later woke up to what sounded like a door opening and closing. And then another door opened and closed.

You looked around the room and found nothing wrong. It must've been in your dream, so you went back to sleep.

You woke up again, but this time with an arm wrapping around your waist and you supported your weight on your elbow and turned slightly just to see Logan’s exhausted face looking at you with apologizing eyes from his pillow.

“Logan!” you said happily and hugged the man tightly while burying your face in his neck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” you said and pulled a bit back to look at Logan’s face.

You leaned forward to lightly press your lips against his. That soft kiss was deepened when his hand grabbed the the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He was quick to change you positions so that he was on top. One of Logan’s hands supported his weight on the mattress near your face while the other one roamed free through your body squeezing your skin. You felt Logan’s tongue against your lips and didn't hesitate to let it in.

“You have no idea how much I missed ya.” Logan said in between kisses with a rough and starved tone that made you moan against his mouth.

In response to your sound, you felt his hips pressuring against yours while his free hand wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was beneath his pants and you never wanted something so bad like you did in that moment.

Logan’s mouth didn't restrain only your mouth. It also traveled to your neck and collarbones and you then smelled the scent of his shampoo. That's why you heard 2 doors opening and closing. One of them was your bedroom door and the other one was the bathroom's. It made sense now.

All that sense was rapidly taken away from you when you felt his bulge starting to move against your clothed pussy.

“Ahh… Logan…” you moaned “Please…” you finished.

“What, darlin’? Tell me. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you, birthday girl.”

“I… I want you…”

“Where?” he asked “Here?” he said, faking innocence while rubbing stripes on top of your shorts.

“Y-yes…” you said with flushed cheeks.

“Well then. Imma have to take this off.” He said and sat up on his knees to smoothly rip your shorts out of you to find out you weren't wearing any underwear.

“Oh fuck, princess. You'll be the death of me. I've been gone for over a week and come back to you all wet like this? Do you know how hard it is to control myself when all I could smell was this neddy pussy since you saw me?” he asked. His face gets closer with each word. Almost close enough to kiss you.

“Then don't.” you said breathless and softly. You then leaned a bit forward to lick his lips and made them open just a small bit.

You saw the way his eyes darkened in pure lust and you felt it in the way he kissed you - with so much passion and need.

Logan only broke the kiss to sit back up on his knees to rip your shirt off, letting your chest free.

“Why’d you rip all my clothes off?” you asked with your breath taken from the way he took your nipples in his mouth which made you back ark for more.

“My present.” he stated in a low tone.

“But it’s my birthday…” you answered with your eyes closed and a moan escaping your lips when you were done talking.

“Your birthday, my present.”

Logan continued to play with you for a few minutes when you felt a knot on your stomach.

“Lo, I’m close…”

With that, Logan stopped paying attention to your breasts and took his hand to your core, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and slowly inserting his index and middle finger on your clenching hole.

You almost screamed out of pleasure when you felt Logan’s fingers moving inside you and scissoring you open to prepare you. You soon came undone under the felling of the friction of his long, thick and calloused hands inside your pussy.

Logan pulled back his body, taking his fingers out of your hole and putting them in his mouth for a brief second, sucking them.

“The sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.” he uttered.

He then proceeded to put those same fingers inside your mouth, this time.

“Suck.” he demanded, and when you did as he ordered, he continued “Atta girl.”

With his free hand, he pulled down his pants and his cock immediately sprung free, slapping against his abs, with veins popping out and precum leaking from the tip. Logan then slowly stroked his length to lubricate it while you watched with saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth and your core getting wetter with every passing second, even though you just cummed.

Logan grabbed his cock by the base and aligned it with your hole, pushing bit by bit, inch by inch, until you were a moan and whimper mess. Once he bottomed you out, you moaned into his digits.

“Such a pretty little fuckin’ slut” he said as his gaze stared intensely to where your bodies met, watching you clench around him in an oh so delicious way.

Logan pulled back his hips to immediately rock them back into yours, making the thrilling sound of his skin slapping against yours fill your ears and your brain. Logan’s pace started slow - always careful not to hurt you - but you could tell it was different then usual. He was rougher than normal, eating you out with more urgency.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be inside this pussy again.” he groaned at the end of the sentence.

Logan’s pace sped up as he started to seek for the pleasure of his high that he had felt coming since he began fucking you. Logan knew that after so many days of only cumming with his hand while thinking of in his tend don't even compare to the feel of being inside you and that once he felt it again, he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long.

Logan took a moment to stop thinking about anything and look at you. Really look at you. The way your hair was messy because of the pillow, the way your forehead was sweating more than usual from thee over-stimulation, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head every time he pounded inside you, the way your cheeks where flustered and got more red every time he praised you, the way your beautiful lips where glossy and red from all the sucking and that pretty string of saliva dripping in your cheek, the way your neck was marked from his hard work, the way your tits bounced up and down rhythmically with the times he fucked himself into you and the hickeys and red spots here and there, the way your clit was swollen and over-sensitive, the way your pussy wrapped around his cock so perfectly and clenched around him making him feel like he was in heaven, the way your sweet noises filled the room and you the way you called his name like it was a prayer. Fuck… Logan couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed your legs and put them on his shoulders, giving him better access to your g-spot and bending even further to kiss you. The kiss was rugged but held all the feelings he felt when he was alone in his cold sleeping bag in the inside of his tent while listening to Scott and Jean doing what he would kill to be doing with you.

“Lo… I-I’m coming again…”

“That’s it. Come for me princess.”

And, you did as you were told.

As soon as he felt you coming apart on his cock, he couldn’t resist it anymore and filled you up.

“Good girl. Always doing as you’re told.” he said in a teasing and low voice in which you only responded with another moan.

Logan helped you ride both your highs and you both soon came completely. He then let himself fall to your side, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you for the present.” you said with a smile on your face as you lifted up your hand to play with his hair.

Logan chuckled and asked “You think this is your present? I told you it was mine. My fucking present for putting up with Scott and Jean for so long without leaving them there and coming back here to your arms.”

You laughed.

“I wouldn’t have minded that.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to do it next time.” he joked and you felt his smile against your neck and you laughed again.

“Where’s my present, then?”

“Such an impatient girl.” he said as he pushed himself up, kissed you and grabbed a small box from his nightstand, all without coming out of you.

“Here you go, birthday girl.” He said and kissed your forehead.

You looked at the box and kissed Logan as a thank you. You opened the box and saw dog tags with your info on it and a picture of you and Logan.

“Well this, this is actually for me.” he said as he took your dog tags and with his other hand, he took his own off his neck and gave it to you.

“This is the one that’s actually for you. You know, I really missed you when I was out on the mission, and I know you miss me too when I’m gone so I thought this was a good way for me to always have a piece of you and you always have a piece of me. I also know how much you like that picture, so-” You interrupted him by kissing him.

“Thank you. I love it!” you said and he looked at you like you were an angel. His angel. “I love you, Logan.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

You cupped Logan’s cheeks and kissed him.

Both of you cuddled for the rest of the night and were finally able to fall asleep next to each other after so many nights apart. You were able to be next to each other, to feel the other's warmth.

That was the best night’s sleep both of you have had last week.

Hope you liked it!

xoxo, kim ryoko