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thef1diary · 2 days ago

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Language Of Leaves | F. Colapinto

Summary: Franco begrudgingly agrees to watch your plants, but caring for them leads him to realize he’s growing just as attached to you.

warnings: fluff, a few spanish sentences - w translation (correct me if it’s wrong!)

wc: 3k

masterlist

Franco had been wholly reluctant from the moment you asked him to take care of your plants. The request hadn’t even fully left your lips before he shook his head, immediately retreating a step, his hands raised as though warding off some ludicrous proposal.

“¿Estás loca?” (are you crazy?) he’d exclaimed, his brows furrowing in exaggerated disbelief. “You’re asking the wrong person here, I would kill your plants without even realizing. They don’t want me around, trust me.” He looked at the leafy green oasis you had so carefully tended to with a mix of apprehension and resignation, like the plants themselves were quietly mocking him from their pots.

But you knew Franco well, you knew that if you pressed just a little, his tough facade would soften. So, you laid it on thick, giving him that soft, pleading expression that he could never quite resist when it came to you. You looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes, layering in just a hint of sadness. “Franco, please. My plants will wither without someone to care for them. Leaving them alone for two whole weeks… it’d be like abandoning children.”

Your words seemed to strike a nerve. He hesitated, his gaze flicking back to the plants and then to you, a faint crack appearing in his armor. You could practically see the thought unfolding in his mind—imagining you returning home to drooping, lifeless plants, the beautiful greenery reduced to a shadow of what it had been. His resistance wavered.

And then you delivered the final blow: a tiny, almost-mournful pout. You knew it was his Achilles’ heel, the expression that always seemed to make him relent, no matter how absurd the request.

Franco sighed—a long, dramatic sigh, muttering under his breath as he glanced away, pretending as if he hadn’t already lost this battle. Finally, he held out his hand for the paper in yours, grumbling all the while, “fine. Solo por dos semanas.” (only for two weeks)

Franco took the paper with a resigned sigh, eyeing it skeptically as he skimmed the instructions. You had done your best to make it as straightforward as possible, keeping the notes to simple instructions for sunlight and water. Still, he seemed to regard even this minimal guidance as a daunting task, his brows furrowing with each line he read. You could practically see his mind racing, piecing together the responsibility you were trusting him with, and how high the stakes suddenly felt.

But since he had already agreed—thanks to that soft pout of yours he couldn’t resist—he knew it was too late to back out now. He folded the paper carefully and gave you a look, one last attempt to salvage his pride. “I’ll try my best, okay? But if you come back and a plant or two doesn’t make it, that’s not my fault.”

There was a slight smirk on his face, though, as if he was secretly determined to prove himself wrong, to come through for you.

You lean in and press a quick, warm kiss to his cheek, murmuring a soft, “thank you, Franco.” The gesture is small, but the effect is immediate. A flush rises to his cheeks, painting them a rosy pink that he tries to hide by looking away. He clears his throat, obviously flustered, and rubs the back of his neck as though the warmth spreading there might somehow disappear if he just ignores it.

He lets out a low cough, shifting his stance uncomfortably, and mutters, “Yeah, yeah… don’t mention it,” his voice gruff, but betrayed by the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Before you can say anything else, he gives a quick nod and ends the conversation right there, stuffing the paper in his pocket as though ready to make his escape before you see just how much your kiss affected him.

When you finally left for your trip, Franco lingered in the doorway of your apartment, taking in the quiet space that was now his responsibility. He moved to the middle of the room, staring down at the list you’d left him. The handwriting was familiar, your looping letters filling the space with gentle reminders and careful instructions, but it was the little doodles that captured his attention.

You’d sketched a happy monstera leaf next to its name, a tiny sun with a smiling face by the plants that needed more light, and even raindrops beside those that liked extra water. He found his fingers drifting over the paper, tracing each drawing, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Qué linda…” (how cute) he murmured before catching himself and pulling his hand back with a quick cough.

“They’re just plants, Franco,” he told himself under his breath, trying to brush off the warmth in his chest. Still, he couldn’t deny that the thought of you sitting down to make this list—carefully, as if you were entrusting him with a life-or-death mission—made him feel… something.

The first day was straightforward enough. He followed each instruction you’d left to the letter, checking off each plant on your list and measuring out water carefully. Some plants didn’t need watering every day, so he noted the days with reminders on his phone. He’d warned you he wasn’t the best plant sitter, after all, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally prove himself right.

As each day passed, he found himself coming over more often than necessary. Even on days when only one or two plants needed watering, Franco would still make the trip, convincing himself it was “just in case.” What if something went wrong overnight? What if he’d missed something? He checked each plant like they were little patients, leaning close to inspect the soil.

By the fourth day, he was getting into a rhythm. He began with the smaller plants, crouching down to check the moisture in their soil. If it felt too dry, he gave them a splash of water; if it seemed damp, he left them alone.

But then he reached your monstera, the plant you considered your prized possession. He stilled, a strange sensation of dread creeping over him as he noticed the edges of the leaves starting to turn yellow, a slight droop to the usually vibrant foliage. His heart dropped.

“¡Mierda!” (shit) he muttered, kneeling down to inspect the damage. “No, no, no…” Panic crept into his chest as he pictured you coming home to find a mess of dying plants. He knew how much these plants meant to you; you tended to them with such devotion, treating each one like it was a beloved pet.

“No me hagas esto, por favor. ¿Qué te hice?” (Don’t do this to me, please. What did I do to you?) His fingers brushed over one of the yellowed edges, his brow furrowing as he searched for any clue. “I swear, I followed everything she wrote down,” he muttered, almost like he was trying to reassure the plant—and himself. He took out the list and reread the instructions for the monstera, scanning the page as if a hidden solution would suddenly appear.

The room fell silent, save for his own low muttering as he kept inspecting the monstera, turning the pot gently and studying each leaf like a doctor checking a patient’s pulse. “Okay, maybe it needs a little less water? Or more light?” He tried everything he could think of, even nudging the pot slightly closer to the window. “Dios mío,” (my god) he breathed, wiping a hand over his face. “She’s going to kill me if it wilts.”

But then he paused, remembering something else.

Franco looked around at your cozy, plant-filled home, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. He remembered how you’re always doting on these plants, cradling each one gently as you water or trim leaves. He’d always found it amusing, the way you’d coo at it as if it were a pet, fingers lightly brushing over its leaves, calling it mi bebé, whispering reassurances in a soft voice, and he’s never missed the way your face lights up whenever one of them sprouts a new leaf or a flower bud.

Franco never understood it, thought it was just some odd habit. But now, facing the wilting monstera, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t as silly as he’d thought.

He cleared his throat, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Alright, monstruo,” he muttered, using a nickname he’d given the big, leafy plant.

“We’re gonna make this work, ¿sí? No más hojas amarillas, ¿entendido?” (Yes? No more yellow leaves, understood?) He felt silly, but if talking to them helped even a little, he was willing to try.

“She really loves you, ¿sabes? She’d hate to see you like this.” (you know) He reached out and gently touched one of the yellowing leaves, his hand lingering there, almost as if he were holding its hand.

He could picture you now, laughing at him for talking to a plant—to your plant—but he kept going anyway. “I’ll do better, okay? Whatever you need. More sun, less water, whatever it takes. Just… hang in there. Don’t make me break her heart.”

He sat back on his heels, staring at the monstera for a moment longer. He felt strangely connected to it, like he’d made a pact, a silent agreement between them.

In the days that followed, Franco grew more and more attached, unconsciously mimicking the little rituals he’d seen you do. He hummed softly under his breath as he watered, sometimes even pausing to glance at the list you’d left, your handwriting now familiar and endearing to him.

He no longer approached your plants like a checklist to get through. Instead, he slowed down, taking the time to touch each leaf and test the soil carefully with his fingers, just like he’d seen you do a hundred times.

When he came across your spider plant, a small and slightly finicky one that he’d once jokingly called “the diva” because of its stubborn leaves, he paused, lightly brushing his thumb over the thin, arching fronds. “You’re giving me more trouble than all the others combined, you know that?” he said, his voice softer than before, almost like he was confiding in it. “But I get it… you’re probably used to her touch, not mine.”

Each day, he began to greet them with a quiet “hola,” as if entering a room full of familiar faces. He knew the way you did it, how you’d walk in and give each plant a little greeting or a compliment. And now he found himself doing the same thing. “Looking good,” he’d mutter as he checked the moisture of your jade plant, nodding approvingly, even though it was just a plant in silence.

The last thing Franco expected was to miss you. But somewhere between fussing over your plants and memorizing every instruction you’d left behind, he started to notice the silence. Your laughter, your endless chatter about plant care, the way you’d smile as you talked about each one like it had a personality—all of it lingered in the empty spaces of your home, making it feel strangely hollow.

He never said it out loud, but as much as he protested, he enjoyed coming over, having coffee with you as you arranged your plants, rambling about which ones needed more light, which were delicate, and which were “just a little dramatic.” You’d look at him with that soft, knowing smile as he pretended not to care, and though he’d grumble about “too many plants,” he never left without sneaking one last look at your little green haven.

He wondered how you’d react if he managed to keep them all alive. A small part of him—a part he tried not to examine too closely—wanted to see your face light up when you saw the plants, thriving and green, as if he’d managed to preserve something precious to you.

Sitting there on your living room carpet, surrounded by all these green, leafy “babies” you’d entrusted to him, he realized he wasn’t just daydreaming about your reaction to the plants. He found himself wondering what it would be like to be here with you, to share these quiet mornings side by side, maybe with a cup of coffee and your gentle teasing. He imagined your hand on his arm, laughing at his sudden “attachment” to your beloved green haven, and he felt a pang of longing he couldn’t ignore.

Franco had always admired you, but these past two weeks had somehow made him feel closer to you, made him wonder what it would be like if he weren’t just a friend.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing these plants as “yours” and started treating them like they were his responsibility too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your two-week trip came to an end. It was well past midnight when you let yourself in, leaving your suitcase by the door as you spotted a lit lamp in the otherwise dark apartment. You padded softly down the hall, stifling a yawn, but stopped in your tracks at the sight that awaited you.

There, in the middle of your living room, was Franco, sound asleep on the floor. His back was against the sofa, his head lolling to one side, and in his hands were two of your plants—your small, temperamental spider plant and your “drama queen” fern. Even in his sleep, he cradled them carefully, as if afraid one wrong move might damage them.

You couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sight of him nestled between your plants, his face softened in sleep, looking far more at peace than you’d ever seen him. You stepped a little closer, crouching down and noticed the smudges of soil on his hands and the slight disarray of the room, as if he’d gone through a nightly ritual of checking on each plant before dozing off right there on the floor.

As you reached out, your fingers barely grazing a stray curl from his forehead, he stirred, eyes fluttering open, his gaze meeting yours. His sleepy, unfocused eyes sharpened as he realized you were there, inches away, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

“Ah… estás aquí,” (you’re here) he muttered as he realized he was still holding onto your plants.

A faint blush colored his cheeks as he placed them gently beside him, his fingers lingering on the leaves as if reluctant to let go.

You both remained close, his sleepy eyes meeting yours, and suddenly the room felt charged, every inch between you alive with an unspoken electricity. He didn’t move away, and neither did you. The silence was warm, thick with all the things you hadn’t yet said, every shared glance and lingering touch from before echoing in this small, tender space between you.

“I didn’t expect to find you like this,” you whispered, the words coming out softer than you intended.

He laughed lightly, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he leaned back, eyes not leaving yours. “I didn’t expect to get so… attached,” he admitted, his voice dropping, a hint of something more in his tone.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you raised an eyebrow, teasing. “To the plants or…?”

His gaze flickered down to the fern beside him for a moment, and then back to you, as if he could no longer resist the pull drawing you closer. “They were good company,” he murmured, his voice softer now, like he was confessing something he’d been holding back, “but… I meant you.”

Your smile softened, and before you could second-guess yourself, you had leaned in, bridging the last inches between you until your head was nestled gently against his chest. He shifted to hold you, his arms wrapping around you naturally, as if they’d been waiting for this moment. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady but just a bit faster than usual, mirroring your own.

He tightened his hold around you, one hand settling at the small of your back while the other drifted upward, his fingers trailing gently along your spine. The touch was unhurried, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the simple act of holding you close.

You let yourself relax fully into his embrace, feeling the way his fingers seemed to map out a quiet symphony along your spine. There was a tenderness in his touch, a kind of reverence that made you feel like this moment was as meaningful to him as it was to you.

“Franco…” you whispered, the word barely leaving your lips as his gaze flicked to your lips, lingering in a way that made the room feel smaller, more intimate. His thumb brushed against your side, an almost absent-minded gesture, yet one that spoke volumes, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you with the tips of his fingers.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, and for a heartbeat, the world outside faded, leaving only the soft rise and fall of his breath mingling with yours. His eyes closed briefly, like he was savoring the closeness, and when they opened, his gaze was deeper, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his tone laced with a sincerity that sent a thrill through you, making you forget everything but the warmth of his presence.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I missed you too,” you whispered, your thumb gently grazing his cheek.

Franco’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment hung between you, suspended in time, gentle and full of unspoken promises.

When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his smile was warm, content. There was no rush, no need for words anymore. Just the quiet understanding between you, as if the silence said everything that needed to be said.

And in that silence, you both stayed, savoring the peace of finally being close in a way you hadn’t been before.

taglist: @blakebearsblog @arieslost @lilorose25 @jamieeboulos @cinderellawithashoe @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel

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kaidasdesires · 1 day ago

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“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy.

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay?

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio?

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings.

I’m on the way.

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help.

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in.

��Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you.

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.”

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned.

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag.

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip.

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip.

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body.

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead.

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang.

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time.

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned.

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you.

Don't stop

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle.

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms.

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling.

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.”

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more.

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted?

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you.

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way?

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for.

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum.

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him.

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own.

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you.

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him.

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him.

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump.

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.”

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp.

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked.

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.”

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more.

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair.

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that.

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement.

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again.

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself.

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice.

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it.

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you.

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed.

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling.

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch.

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were.

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm.

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room.

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you.

You could only nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs.

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice.

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure.

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came.

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure.

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body.

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated.

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down.

You gasped, begging him for more without asking.

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust.

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him.

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited.

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted.

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers.

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault.

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes.

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off.

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?”

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them.

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer.

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated.

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length.

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant.

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely.

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you.

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you.

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were.

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders.

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw.

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance.

��God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you.

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain.

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating.

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth.

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you.

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow.

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust.

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation.

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.”

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further.

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will.

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice.

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly.

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too.

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly.

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response.

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.”

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation.

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him.

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed.

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now.

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you.

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear.

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again.

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe.

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion.

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax.

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes.

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed.

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again.

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes.

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it.

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you.

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts.

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating.

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time.

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement.

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights.

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours.

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit.

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator.

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him.

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms.

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you.

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind.

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy.

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.”

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask.

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here.

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm.

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face.

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that.

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake.

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit.

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough.

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump.

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that.

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.”

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.”

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom.

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom.

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.”

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter.

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest.

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails.

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it.

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied.

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself.

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation.

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting.

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing.

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same.

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water.

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?”

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look.

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head.

You laughed with him at the scenario.

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim.

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers.

“Well, come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in.

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence.

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you.

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously.

His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine.

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action.

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them.

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight.

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two (coming soon)

chapter directory

#kaidasdesires #enha #enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #kaidawrites #lee heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader

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doctorho · 2 days ago

Text

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

#scribbles #yes i did write this while waiting for my pain killers to kick in what about it #it works. you know i'm right #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane

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wolvietxt · 2 days ago

Text

𝓒LOSER 𝓣HAN 𝓑EFORE !

pairing : daryl dixon x female!reader warnings : implied age gap, crybaby!reader, he’s a bit ooc, overprotective rick wc : 2.1k a/n : i’m seriously debating writing for carol i want her so bad also can u tell i’m in love with rick

it had been a week since the group returned from their last supply run. as usual, you'd found a quiet spot in the prison, back against the cold concrete wall, a pencil in hand, and your notebook resting on your knees. with each sketch, you could lose yourself in the lines and shapes, letting the chaos of the outside world fall away.

daryl had seen you tucked away like this more times than he could count. he often found himself stealing glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the way you focused intently on your drawings. there was something calming about it, a slice of peace in a world that had long since forgotten the meaning of the word. he liked that you managed to create beauty in such a bleak place, and it stirred something warm inside him.

as he gathered supplies for the next run, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward you, the way a moth is drawn to a flame. but even as that warmth spread through him, a thread of hesitation tugged at his heart. he didn't know how to approach you without sounding awkward or making things weird. you were sunshine to him, and he feared his often grumpy demeanour would cast a shadow over your light. but he was trying, to be kinder, especially around you. the group made it easy, at this point, rick was almost like a brother to him, and carol a best friend. to his eventual dismay, this meant she knew a whole lot about him and could read him like a book.

“hey, daryl,” carol’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. she had a knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made him shift uncomfortably. “you’ve been staring at her again.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “i ain’t staring.”

“sure,” she said with a teasing smirk. “just like you weren’t the one who picked up that flower for her last week.”

that had been a mistake. you had looked so happy, your smile lighting up the whole room. and damn if that hadn’t made him feel all sorts of things. but now, he just shrugged it off. “she’s a good kid. just… i dunno, wanted to do something nice.”

carol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her face. “you’re not fooling anyone, daryl. you care about her.”

“i care about everyone in this group,” he replied a bit too quickly, his tone defensive.

“sure you do,” she said, walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

he watched you again, how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, completely absorbed in your art. he wanted to be closer to you, to show you how much you meant to him. but the words always stuck in his throat, trapped beneath layers of his own insecurity. he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but he wanted you like he never had before.

later that day, the group gathered to discuss the next supply run. rick, as usual, was leading the meeting, his face drawn and serious. “we need to get more medical supplies. that last run barely did us any good.”

you were sitting under carol while she toyed with your hair, comfortable inbetween her legs while she was sitting on one of the beds. flipping through your notebook, a page with a half-finished drawing of a sunset catching your eye. you liked how it reminded you of the days before everything fell apart.

“we’ll need someone to stay back and guard the place,” rick continued, looking around the room. “any volunteers?”

before you could even think, carol spoke up. “i’ll stay. i can help keep watch.”

“me too,” you chimed in, glancing at daryl, who met your gaze for a brief moment. there was something in his eyes that made your heart race, but you quickly looked away, focusing on the conversation at hand, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“you sure?” rick asked, his voice skeptical. “it’s dangerous out there.”

“we’re capable,” you said firmly. “if something happens, we can handle it.”

daryl watched the exchange, his brow furrowing as he weighed the risks. he knew you were strong, but he also hated the idea of you being out there alone. he couldn’t shake the need to protect you, but he didn’t want to stifle your independence either.

“i’ll - i’ll be careful, i swear” you added, sensing the tension in the room, especially from daryl.

after the meeting, the group dispersed, but daryl lingered behind, gathering his gear. he overheard rick talking to carol, their voices low and serious.

“she’s too inexperienced,” rick said, frustration lacing his words. “what if something happens? we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

rick loved you, he really did, as much as everyone else in the group, but he also had a tendency to worry, especially about you. you weren’t new to the group, you’d been with them since the camp, same time as rick. rick had found you limping down the road, a herd of walkers following not far behind you. he’d scooped you up as quick as he could, and since then, he’d always felt rather overprotective of you. your naivety often put him on edge, his worst nightmare would be you ending up in a bad situation because you were often too trusting of others. you didn’t know what kinda guy he could’ve been when he’d picked you up in the middle of the street, but you didn’t struggle at all. he cared for you like a father.

“she’s tougher than you think, rick,” carol replied. “but she’s also got a soft side. you know that. don’t underestimate her.”

“it’s not that,” rick snapped. “it’s just… i mean she’s irresponsible, she’s - ”

you walked past them, catching the tail end of the conversation. your heart sank, unsure of what to make of it. you wanted to prove yourself, but hearing rick’s concerns made you doubt your abilities. you ducked into a hallway, hoping to clear your head.

daryl noticed you walking away, and for a moment, he considered following you. he wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay. but then he thought about the conversation with rick, and fear gripped him. he didn’t want to sound like a worried parent, but you were really important to him.

he took a deep breath and made his decision. he would go on the run with the others, but he would make sure to bring back something special for you. maybe that would lighten your mood.

as the day wore on, the run took longer than expected. they fought off a few walkers and scrounged around for supplies, but daryl’s mind was elsewhere. he kept thinking about you, how you had looked when rick was questioning your abilities. the way your smile faltered, and your confidence seemed to waver. he hated that rick could make you feel small, even if he didn’t mean to.

when they finally returned, daryl felt a rush of relief to see you sitting in the same spot, sketching in your notebook. the others were busy unpacking supplies, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. your brow was furrowed in concentration, and it made him want to protect that focus, to shield you from any negativity.

“hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously.

you looked up, surprised, and your face lit up with a smile that made his heart skip. “hey, daryl! how was the run?”

“it was alright,” he replied, his gaze flicking to your notebook. “what’re you working on, sweetheart?”

“just a little something,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “nothing special.”

he leaned over, trying to sneak a peek at your drawing. “looks pretty damn special to me.”

you turned the notebook slightly, revealing a sketch of the prison with a sunset in the background. it was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, and it made his heart swell. “y’re real talented, you know that?”

“thanks, daryl.” you replied, a hint of shyness in your tone. “it’s just a hobby.”

“hobbies are important,” he said, feeling bold. “keeps you sane in this crazy world.”

“what about you?” you asked, curious. “do you have any hobbies?”

he scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “hunting, i guess. and, uh, taking care of my bike.”

“i’d love to see your bike sometime,” you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“yeah?” he said, surprised. “i could show you. it’s not much, but it gets me around.”

“i’m sure it’s more than that,” you replied, smiling softly.

“here,” he said, shifting the conversation. “um, i got you something.” he pulled out a worn paperback book from his backpack, the edges frayed but the cover intact. “found it on the run. thought you might like it.”

your eyes widened, and you took the book from him gently. “oh daryl, you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice too. “thought you could use a new read.”

you opened the book and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and joy. “this is one of my favourite authors!”

“really?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “figured you might like it.”

you hugged the book to your chest, your eyes brimming with tears. “thank you so much!”

“ain’t no big deal,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “now don’t you go cryin’ on me.”

you laughed through your tears, and he felt his heart swell. “sorry, i can’t help it. ‘s just really thoughtful of you. you always do nice things for me.” you said, giggling through the tears now streaming down your face. you didn’t really know why you were crying, but you hoped daryl didn’t think too much about it.

“i just think you deserve it,” he replied, shrugging but unable to hide his smile.

“you’re really sweet,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“ain’t sweet,” he teased. “you’re just a damn crybaby.”

you playfully nudged him, and he chuckled, feeling the tension that had built throughout the day start to dissipate. “you really like it?” he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t messed up.

“i love it,” you said sincerely. “and it’s just what i needed. i’ve never read this one before. ‘m gonna start reading it tonight.”

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “maybe we could, uh, read together sometime.”

“i’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening even more.

he was struck by the way you looked at him, your eyes shining with genuine happiness. it made him feel brave, like maybe he could push past the awkwardness. “i mean, if you want to.”

“i definitely do,” you said, your voice soft.

the two of you stood there, the world around you fading as the moment stretched on. daryl felt a surge of affection that he could no longer contain. he stepped closer, the heat radiating off you making him bold.

“can i?” he asked, his voice low, leaning in slightly.

you nodded, and without thinking, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. it was soft and tentative at first, but then you melted into him, deepening the kiss. the warmth spread through him, and he felt like he was finally letting go of everything that had held him back.

when you pulled away, breathless, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “damn, you really are a crybaby.”

you giggled, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “maybe just a little.”

“well, if you keep bein’ so sweet, i might just have to keep makin’ you cry,” he teased, unable to hide his grin.

“i wouldn’t mind that,” you said, biting your lip, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “because i ain’t goin’ anywhere. you’re stuck with me.”

“i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle between you two.

as the night drew closer, the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. daryl felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he knew that no matter what came next, he wanted to face it with you by his side.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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ducktoo · 2 days ago

Text

Love is War

[Irene x Reader]

Note: I….friggin….love….Kaguya-sama so much. It’s just a funny show to watch and I’ve wanted to make something inspired by them. I had a lot of fun with this.

TW: a lot of second handed embarrassment

(She’s kinda like Kaguya)

You sit across from Irene in the empty student council room, the evening light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows that add a layer of mystery to the already tension-filled silence. Irene is flipping through some papers, meticulously reading, yet somehow ignoring your presence. Her focus, as always, is sharp, precise — but you've noticed the subtle glances, the way her lips curl ever so slightly when she thinks you aren’t watching.

You lean back, determined to stay calm. After all, if you show any interest first, it’s game over. Irene is the president, elegant and controlled, respected and even a little feared. And you, as her vice-president, know every one of her mannerisms by now, but this silent tug-of-war — this feeling she hasn’t just caught your eye but your heart too — has been going on for months. But you’d never give her the satisfaction of saying it first.

“So,” you say, nonchalantly, “another meeting… just us, huh?” You emphasize the “us,” making sure it sounds casual enough to not raise suspicion.

She raises an eyebrow, not even glancing your way. “You’re the vice president, remember?” She flips to the next page. “Or did you forget why you’re here?”

Ouch.

But you can play it cool. “Just making conversation,” you reply with a smirk. “Not everyone spends hours in silence like you do, President.”

She finally looks up, her eyes sharp, and for a second, you’re caught in her gaze. This is all part of the game, you remind yourself. Whoever slips first, whoever lets their guard down, loses.

“I don’t mind silence,” she says with a smirk of her own. “Unless you’re uncomfortable?”

“Oh, of course not,” you scoff, leaning forward. “If anything, I think you’re the one struggling to keep it together.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “You think I’d give in that easily?”

“I didn't say anything,” you tease and put both of your hands up in innocence. Though your heart's pounding, every word a risky gamble. “You seem pretty close to breaking. Maybe you’re just waiting for me to say something first.”

Irene tilts her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s funny. You think you’ve got it all figured out.” She leans in, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “But if you’re so certain of yourself, why haven’t you said anything either?”

The challenge is clear, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you practically crackling. You’re staring at each other, each waiting for a sign of surrender, for that one misstep.

Just then, you notice her hand on the table, fingers lightly tapping. You reach out, instinctively, to still them, and in that moment, her eyes widen slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying her usual composure. Your hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and you can feel your own face growing warm.

You pull away, breaking the silence with a chuckle, hoping to cover up your own slip. “Nice try,” you say. “But I’m not that easy to trick.”

She looks at you with an unreadable expression before her lips twitch into a soft smile — a genuine one, not her usual restrained, dignified expression. “I’ll admit, you’re a little harder to deal with than I thought,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a rush of victory. “So, you’re admitting I’m getting to you?”

Irene crosses her arms and raises a brow, leaning back in her chair as if sizing you up. “Well…since you’re so intent on making conversation, how about a game?”

You match her confident expression. “A game, huh? Alright, let’s hear it.”

She holds up her fingers, ticking off each word. “Twenty. Questions.”

The challenge is clear, and your eyes narrow as you smile. This is an opportunity. If you ask the right questions, you might get her to reveal something. “20 questions?"

“Yes,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself. “I’ll ask first.”

You nod, already strategizing your responses. There's no way she’ll get you to slip up.

“Alright,” Irene begins, her tone deceptively casual. “Are you… seeing anyone right now?”

You blink, but you manage a cool response. “No.”

She hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Interesting. Your turn.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” you shoot back immediately, watching her for any reaction.

She raises an eyebrow, giving you a slow smile. “No. Next question: Do you have a… special someone in mind?”

Your face heats up, but you don’t let it show. You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “No,” you say, stretching the truth just a bit. “Do you?”

She smirks, but her answer is quick. “No.” There’s a spark in her eyes now, and you know she’s trying to rile you up. “Have you ever… spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about someone without realizing it?”

You narrow your eyes. She’s getting clever with these questions. “No,” you lie, feeling like she’s closing in. “But have you ever been caught staring at someone and couldn’t look away?”

Her smirk falters for a split second, but she recovers quickly. “No.”

The room feels charged with each back-and-forth. Neither of you wants to back down, and every question seems to dig just a little deeper, as if you’re both trying to pry open a box that’s already bursting at the seams.

Irene leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone?”

The question catches you off guard, but you’re not about to let her win. “No,” you reply, keeping your expression neutral. “Do you think about me?”

Her lips twitch, almost into a smile, and her answer is a soft, measured, “No.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re sure she’s lying. But you’ve both committed to the game, and there’s no turning back now.

You decide to turn up the heat. “Have you ever wondered… what it would be like if you and I were�� something more?”

Irene’s eyes widen slightly, and for a fraction of a second, you see a crack in her calm exterior. “No,” she replies, but the tiny hesitation is enough to make your heart race.

“Are you sure?” you press, grinning.

“Yes,” she snaps, recovering her poise with a steely look. “Absolutely sure.”

You can’t help but laugh, sensing her annoyance. But she doesn’t let you revel in it for long.

“Do you get jealous if I talk to other people?” she asks, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“No,” you answer immediately, fighting the urge to look away.

Irene chuckles, clearly unimpressed. “Liar.”

Your cheeks warm, but you keep your gaze steady. “Sure, like you’re any better,” you say. “Have you ever gotten jealous seeing me with someone else?”

She narrows her eyes, leaning just a bit closer. “No.”

There’s a pause, tension thick in the air. Both of you know the series of no are getting less and less convincing, but neither of you is willing to back down.

Then, Irene clears her throat, her voice softer than before. “Alright, last question. And you have to be completely honest.”

You nod, bracing yourself. “Fine. Go ahead.”

She looks you dead in the eye, her expression unreadable. “Do you… feel anything special for me?”

Your heart pounds, the air between you both thick with unsaid words. You can feel every second stretching, every fiber of your being shouting to say something, anything other than—

“No.”

Irene’s eyes widen, and for a moment, her carefully guarded expression slips, replaced with something almost vulnerable. But she recovers, her smirk returning, even if it’s a little shaky.

“Good,” she says, trying to sound indifferent. “Neither do I.”

You both sit in silence, staring at each other, knowing you’ve just lied through your teeth and realizing that you’re both too stubborn to admit it.

But then Irene leans back, her smirk shifting into a resigned smile. “Well,” she says, standing up, her voice teasing, “it seems we’re both in the clear, then. No one’s losing anything here.”

You watch her walk toward the door, and before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes holding yours for just a second too long.

“Good night,” she says softly, with a smile that tells you maybe, just maybe, she’s as frustrated as you are.

“Good night,” you manage to reply, watching her leave, and for the first time, wondering if this game is even worth playing if it means you’ll never actually win.

Back in your dorm room, you close the door and let out a long, frustrated groan. You’d spent the entire day locked in a ridiculous back-and-forth with Irene, trying to make her slip up, but "nooo", she had to be as stubborn as ever. You throw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your pillow and thrashing around in irritation.

“‘No,’” you mutter to yourself, mimicking Irene’s voice in the most exaggerated tone possible. “'No, I never get jealous, no, I never think about you, no, I have no feelings whatsoever!’” You yank the pillow over your face and yell into it, hoping it’ll somehow drain the frustration boiling over inside you.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD BAE JOOHYUN!”

Meanwhile, across campus, Irene is pacing in her room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Every step she takes sounds like she’s trying to stomp a hole into the floor. She mutters angrily to herself, face contorted in a mix of anger and — if she were to admit it — embarrassment.

“‘Do you think about me when you’re alone?’” she scoffs, doing her best impression of your voice, throwing her hands up in the air. “Absolutely not, why would I?” She frowns, blushing despite herself. “As if I’d be the first one to say anything anyway!”

She huffs and, in a rare moment of unchecked frustration, grabs her textbook off her desk and slams it down, a futile attempt to squash the annoyance bubbling inside her. She’s never felt so embarrassed — or so irritated that she can’t stop thinking about you.

“No,” she grumbles to herself again, as if the more times she says it, the more true it’ll become. “I am Bae Joohyun…why would I fall for you?”

Back in your room, you’ve started pacing now too, every nerve on edge. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your face twisted in frustration, and throw your hands up. “This is ridiculous! I don’t even care!” You stomp over to your desk, slamming your hands down like it might somehow snap you out of this bizarre Irene-fueled haze.

“Of all the people I had to like,” you grumble, throwing yourself back on your bed, arms flailing dramatically, “it had to be the one shortie who won’t admit anything!”

Meanwhile, Irene’s found herself in a similar scene, on her bed, legs kicking the mattress in frustration. “And that kid KNOWS what they’re doing,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow she’s now buried her face in. “Just sitting there with that smug little smile, asking all those RIDICULOUS questions like they didn’t care one bit!” She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh, tossing her pillow across the room.

It’s not even five minutes before she stands, determined to shake off the restless energy building inside her, and starts pacing her room again. Each step lands with heavy frustration. She mutters under her breath, trying to convince herself: “It’s not a big deal. This is… nothing. And they were obviously lying anyway, just to mess with me. I mean, why would they ask those things unless they were trying to make me crack?”

At the same time, you’re staring up at your ceiling, arms crossed, muttering to yourself. “She just has to be so stubborn,” you say, voice heavy with annoyance.

“Every single answer, every question — it’s like she’s actually trying to lose her mind on purpose!” You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “But no, she’s just too proud to admit she feels anything.”

In the end, both of you spend the next hour or so in almost synchronized frustration — you, rolling around on your bed, groaning loudly every few minutes, and Irene, sighing dramatically and flopping from one end of her bed to the other, trying not to think about how much it bothers her that you refuse to admit anything either.

It’s only when you both wear yourselves out from the mutual thrashing and muttering that a sense of calm settles, leaving you both sprawled on your beds, staring at the ceiling, each lost in thoughts of the other.

But even in the quiet, both of you have the same thought lingering, echoing annoyingly in your minds:

“Why can’t they just confess already?”

“Why can’t she just confess already?”

The next morning, you drag yourself into the student council room, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation clinging to your eyelids like cement. You glance at the clock — 8:15 AM. You’ve barely gotten any sleep, and it shows. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair’s a mess, and every step feels like it’s being weighed down by the universe itself.

You slump into your usual chair, rubbing your face. The room is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. No one else is here yet — except for Irene, sitting in her usual spot across from you, who seems just as disheveled as you feel. Her hair’s a little frizzy, and her posture is slumped like she might collapse at any moment.

You exchange a tired glance. Neither of you says anything. There's no point in it. It’s obvious you both didn’t sleep well, and it’s all because of that ridiculous game.

"Morning," Irene mutters, sounding less like herself than usual, her voice hoarse and low.

You nod. “Morning. Did you… sleep at all?”

She gives a small shake of her head, eyes slightly glazed. “…No.”

You groan. “Same.”

“I can tell,” she says, voice tinged with equal frustration.

You both fall into an exhausted silence, but just as the tension begins to build between you once again, the door creaks open. Seulgi, the treasurer, strides in, bouncing on her feet as usual, though today she seems extra chipper — like she’s somehow been recharged by a full night of sleep, which you both desperately lack.

She beams at you both. “Good morning, my higher ups! You two look like you barely survived the night.”

“Thanks for the observation,” you mutter sarcastically, leaning back in your chair, trying to ignore the painful throb in your skull.

Seulgi raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tense energy in the room. “You guys didn’t get any sleep, did you?” she teases, looking between the two of you. “Too busy scheming with each other, huh?”

Irene gives Seulgi a deadpan stare. “We don’t need your commentary, Kang Seulgi.”

Seulgi shrugs, unfazed. “Okay, okay, no need to get defensive. You two need a distraction.”

With that, Seulgi pulls a small notepad from her bag, flipping it open with dramatic flair. “Let’s play Would You Rather,” she announces, practically jumping into the chair beside Irene.

You blink at her, too exhausted to even care about the idea of playing another game. But Seulgi’s already too deep into her plans to let you escape.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi starts, voice rising in enthusiasm, “have the ability to read anyone’s mind, but only while they’re eating something, or be able to talk to animals, but only in a language they don’t understand?”

You glance at Irene, already half-suspecting she’s not going to entertain this nonsense, but to your surprise, she lets out a small sigh and leans in, trying to humor Seulgi. “The animals. No contest.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I could ask a certain bear to stop stealing my snacks,” Irene mutters, eyes narrowing like she’s speaking from personal experience.

"I know nothing" Seulgi whistled and looked away, feigning ignorance.

You chuckle, despite yourself, because somehow that seems oddly relatable. But Seulgi’s not done yet.

“Okay, next one!” Seulgi says, flipping her page. “Would you rather always know when someone’s lying, but it makes you physically ill, or never know when someone’s lying, but it makes you constantly question everything?”

Irene shoots you a look, probably knowing where this is going. You tap your chin dramatically.

“I’ll go with the first one,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I already get physically ill just dealing with you.”

Irene doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m starting to think you might be lying about that,” she retorts, a small grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

Seulgi, clearly loving this back-and-forth, just grins wider. “Alright, now for the real fun one…”

You both exchange a look of dread.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi pauses for dramatic effect, “have to sing every time you want to communicate, but only in opera, or be unable to speak at all and only express yourself through interpretive dance?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, processing the absurdity of the question. Then, without missing a beat, Irene responds, deadpan, “I’d go with interpretive dance. At least it’s not opera.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You would dance? For everything? For your class presentations?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it would be easier than singing opera in front of the entire school.”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “I’d rather sing opera. It’s at least... dignified.”

Seulgi looks between the two of you, laughing to herself as if she’s witnessing the world's most ridiculous standoff. “Okay, okay, one last one. Would you rather accidentally confess your feelings to the entire school, but the person you like doesn’t hear, or have to live your life with a giant embarrassing secret that no one knows except you?”

You freeze. Irene’s gaze flicks to yours, and for a brief, horrifying moment, it feels like the entire world has just turned its spotlight on you both.

Seulgi’s watching, clearly loving the discomfort she’s causing.

“I—” you start, but then you hesitate. “I’d rather have the secret,” you say quickly, then add, “I mean, I don’t want to confess in front of everyone!”

Irene laughs — a soft, almost bitter laugh — and answers quickly, “I’d pick the same thing. Secrets are easier to deal with than... that.”

You both stare at each other, and for once, the silence between you doesn’t feel as tense as before. In fact, it’s almost like... you’ve just admitted something without even trying.

But Seulgi, ever the expert at reading the room, lets out a dramatic sigh. “You two are impossible,” she says, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “But at least we had fun.”

Irene and you exchange a glance. Neither of you says anything, but the hint of something unspoken lingers in the air. Something that wasn’t quite said in the game, but was definitely felt.

“You know,” you mutter, standing up and stretching, “next time, we’re just playing chess.”

Seulgi grins, already plotting her next absurd question. “You got it. But just so you know,” she winks, “I’m totally adding opera to the rules.”

Irene shoots you a look as if to say, See? This is your fault.

And for once, you can’t help but laugh.

A few months pass, and life in the student council room has somehow become a bizarre, ongoing comedy show. You and Irene continue your ridiculous push-and-pull game, each day a new round of Who Will Crack First?. Neither of you has budged an inch, and yet neither of you has let up on the passive-aggressive scheming either.

It’s as if you’re both living in some weird, never-ending loop of “will they, won’t they” — and it’s driving everyone around you absolutely mad.

Seulgi, who’s practically an expert at this point in navigating the absurdity of your interactions, has given up trying to intervene. She now finds it hilarious, often leaning back in her chair with a smug smile as she watches the two of you exchange cryptic looks and challenge each other with passive-aggressive “Would You Rather” questions.

One particularly awful morning, Irene walks in wearing her usual perfectly put-together look — except today, her blazer is slightly askew, her hair a little more chaotic than usual. She’s clearly been running on no sleep, but as always, she gives you a pointed, unamused look when you glance at her.

“Not today,” she mutters, sounding exhausted, and collapses into her chair with a sigh.

You blink. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m tired of you,” she snaps back, without hesitation.

You sit up straighter, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh? So you admit it now?”

Her head whips to face you. “I didn’t admit anything, you idiot.”

“Right, right. Of course not.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but inside you can feel a small victory bubbling up.

Yes, you’re getting to her. Keep going.

Before you can continue your “I’m always right” victory lap in your mind, Seulgi enters, holding an envelope in her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!” Seulgi greets, sliding into her chair and tossing the envelope onto the desk in front of you. “Got this for you,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

You blink at it. “What’s this?”

Seulgi leans forward, grinning. “Well, someone (ahem, our vice-president) just got accepted for the student exchange program. With a full scholarship, no less.”

You freeze, staring at the envelope as if it might suddenly burst into flames. It takes a moment for the words to fully process in your tired brain, but when they do — you can’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Wait… you’re kidding,” you mutter, flipping the envelope open. Sure enough, it’s real. You’ve been accepted into the program — and with a scholarship at that. You can barely wrap your head around it, the magnitude of it overwhelming. A chance to study abroad? This is huge.

"I MADE IT MOM!!!" You shouted, as loud as you just won a well fought war.

Irene, however, is not as happy for you. She glares at the envelope, as though it’s personally offended her. “Congratulations,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, almost smugly. “Thanks, Pres. I’m going to study abroad! How cool is that?”

“Right, so you’ll be gone for how long?” Irene’s voice has a sharp edge to it, and you know instantly that something’s bothering her.

“I’m not sure,” you say, waving it off, still too distracted by the possibility of it all. “Maybe six months? Maybe more. It’s exciting, right?”

Irene doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Her lips are pressed together like she’s holding something in.

“You know,” you say, enjoying the rare moment of feeling like you actually have the upper hand, “maybe you should congratulate me properly. This is a big deal.”

She gives you a sharp look. “I don’t congratulate people who act like they’re already the best at everything.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, “that’s not even true. We both know you’re just upset that you won’t get to have your daily dose of me tormenting you.”

Irene narrows her eyes, leaning forward like she’s about to bite back with something absolutely scathing. But instead, she just sighs. “Fine. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great. Now, I’ll just go back to pretending you aren’t about to abandon me for six months.”

You blink, caught off guard by her sudden change in attitude. It’s almost like she’s… jealous? No, that can’t be right.

“Wait,” you say, your voice sounding strangely unsure, “you’re mad?”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you're the dumbest person alive. “What do you think, Einstein?”

“Are you actually mad that I’m going abroad?” You almost can’t believe you’re asking. This is a new level of absurdity. She’s always acted like she doesn’t care about anything — least of all you.

Her response comes in the form of a heavy sigh, followed by her leaning back again with a dramatic thud into her chair. “I just don’t get it,” she mutters, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most tragic thing in the world. “One moment you’re here, annoying the hell out of me, and then poof — off to some other country like it’s no big deal.”

“Is that jealousy?” you ask, incredulous. “Pres, is that—”

“No!” She snaps immediately. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve been torturing me for months, and now you’re going to vanish, leaving me alone with Seulgi’s stupid games and that.”

You look at Seulgi, who’s grinning at the back-and-forth with a cup of coffee in her hand like she’s watching a reality TV show unfold before her. “I’m just here for the drama,” Seulgi mumbles under her breath, casually sipping her coffee.

“See?” Irene gestures to Seulgi. “I’m stuck here with this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m just as confused as you are,” you joke, tapping the envelope on the table, “since it looks like I’m leaving you here to suffer alone with your secrets.”

Irene glares at you. “Stop talking about my secrets. It’s not like you even have any.”

You grin, sensing that you’ve touched a nerve. “Oh, I do, don’t worry. Just waiting for you to—”

“Stop talking.” Irene snaps, her voice so sharp it’s almost a threat.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you don’t know whether to laugh or just keep pushing her buttons. It’s getting harder and harder to tell if she’s frustrated because of your “secret” or if it’s just the ever-present game you two have been playing for months.

Seulgi, clearly sensing the climax of your endless drama, looks between you both with a smirk. “You two are ridiculous,” she says, sipping her coffee and savoring the war, like a general on the side watching her neighbouring countries fight.

And as always, you and Irene stay locked in your little game — still stubborn, still not admitting anything, but both of you a tiny bit more frustrated than before. You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re not quite sure whether it’s from the excitement of the exchange program or the absurdity of your constant back-and-forth with Irene.

One thing’s for sure — you may be leaving soon, but the game will never truly end.

The days leading up to your final day at school felt like a drawn-out episode of Who Will Break First?.

The tension between you and Irene was palpable, like two magnets trying to repel each other while secretly waiting for the other to snap. It was absurd, and yet, you couldn’t help but be thrilled by the idea of ending this ridiculous game once and for all.

The exchange program was looming on the horizon, and you were determined to win this war — no more games, no more indirect jabs. One of you was going to finally confess, and it would be grand. You weren’t just going to do it quietly or casually.

Oh no. You had bigger plans.

Way bigger plans.

You could practically feel the dramatic music building in your head as you sat in the student council room, staring at the whiteboard, mapping out your elaborate scheme. It had to be perfect, a moment so spectacular that Irene would have no choice but to confess. You had one chance, and it had to be memorable.

The idea? A scavenger hunt.

But not just any scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt for the heart.

“How can I make it even more dramatic?” you muttered to yourself, looking over your ridiculous list of clues and challenges. Every challenge would lead Irene closer to her inevitable fate — confessing her feelings, of course. But it couldn’t be too obvious. You had to make it like a game, because she would never confess otherwise. She was too proud.

You could already hear the sound of her internal monologue: I can’t let them get away with this. I’ll show them I’m not some softy.

Little did she know, you were about to turn this into the most obnoxiously grand gesture ever.

The next day, you casually walk into the student council room, where Irene is sitting at her desk, looking as stoic as usual. Her hair is perfect (obviously), and she’s in the middle of filling out some form that looks like it was written in some ancient bureaucratic language.

“Good morning, Pres.” you say nonchalantly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

She barely glances up at you, just giving a quick nod. “Morning,” she mutters, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Perfect. The stage was set.

“You ready for the game today?” you ask casually, leaning over to get a peek at her papers.

Her eyebrow twitches slightly. “What game?”

“The game,” you say dramatically, “The scavenger hunt. The ultimate scavenger hunt.”

Irene freezes. “What?”

You grin, feeling the thrill of your scheme starting to take effect. “It’s simple, really. I’ve set up a series of clues around the campus. Each one will lead you to the next, until you finally reach your destination. And guess what? You’re the only one who can participate. No one else is allowed.”

Irene stares at you as if you just suggested she run a marathon in high heels. “A scavenger hunt? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” You give her an exaggeratedly dramatic nod. “You’re going to love it. Each clue is going to lead you to a place that’s important to us. You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

She blinks, clearly confused. “And what’s the point of this ridiculous hunt?”

“The point is,” you say, leaning in like you’re about to share the world’s greatest secret, “by the end of it, you’ll finally admit that you can’t stand it anymore and you will…”

You paused for a moment “…confess your feelings for me.”

Irene’s face is completely deadpan. “You’re out of your mind.”

But she’s intrigued. You can tell.

“Okay, okay. I’ll bite. Where do I start?” Irene asks, crossing her arms with that same defiant, no-nonsense look that always drives you insane.

You hand her the first clue, which is written in ridiculously dramatic handwriting. “Go to the place where it all started,” you say, practically bouncing in your chair, “You know, where we first met. Good luck.”

Irene glares at you for a second before unfolding the note. Her eyes scan it quickly. She’s already halfway out of her seat when she mutters, “This is so stupid.”

And off she goes.

What she doesn’t realize is that you’ve set up each clue in the most bizarre and over-the-top way possible.

The first stop is the fountain near the school entrance. But it’s not just a simple clue — oh no. You’ve surrounded the fountain with floating balloons that spell out “LOVE,” because you’re subtle like that. Next to the fountain, there’s a big, obnoxious banner that says, “First step to confessing your feelings: stop running away from the truth.”

When Irene arrives, she looks at it, rolls her eyes so hard you think they might get stuck, but follows the instructions anyway.

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, lifting the balloon with one hand and searching for the next clue.

Next, the clue leads her to the library — but not just any section of the library. It’s the aisle where you first bumped into her accidentally (totally not planned) on that fateful day. The shelf is stacked with books on love and confession. (Of course, you also made sure the most embarrassing ones were in plain sight.)

By the time she reaches the next clue, which is hidden inside a cookie jar in the student lounge, she’s had enough. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” she says under her breath as she rips open the paper and immediately glares at the next clue.

It’s just one word: Confess.

Irene stares at the note for a solid minute, as though she’s trying to will it to self-destruct. “This is… absurd.”

She’s so close now. You’re practically jumping out of your seat, grinning so wide you’re certain she can hear the smugness radiating off you.

The final stop is, of course, the student council room. You’ve cleared out all the other council members and arranged the room like an oddly romantic restaurant, complete with candles (yes, real candles, because you’re extra) and a giant cardboard cutout of the two of you from a school event that she’ll definitely recognize.

“I swear to god, if you’ve done anything worse than this, I’ll…” Irene trails off as she steps into the room, eyes widening at the display.

You cross your arms. “Well?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?” she asks, her voice dangerously calm.

You grin, barely containing your excitement. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Irene looks at you, deadpan as usual. “You’re impossible.”

You wait, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

She doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches for a few seconds, and just when you think she’s going to snap — she sighs. “Fine.”

She’s this close.

She takes a deep breath, looking you straight in the eye, and says in the most dramatically deadpan voice possible:

“I hate you.”

And just like that, you snap.

“WHAT?!”

“I said I hate you.” Irene smiles smugly, enjoying every second of your frustration. “But I think you’re kind of an idiot. And I’m sort of impressed by your sheer lack of self-awareness. So, confession done.”

You stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

“That’s not a confession!” you shout.

“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Irene retorts, crossing her arms. “But at least I win.”

And with that, you both realize — you’ve just played yourselves.

As Irene starts walking away, her smug expression plastered on her face, you stand there, still stunned, your heart hammering in your chest. You had come so close to victory — and then she just dropped the bomb on you like it was nothing.

I hate you.

What kind of confession was that? Sure, it was dramatic, but it was barely even close to what you had in mind!

But something in your chest tightens. You can’t let this end like this. No way. You won’t let her get away with this. Not when you’re so close

You take one step forward. Then another. You’re walking after her now, and you can feel the heat rising in your face as you approach. The whole scene plays out like a movie, but not the cool action kind of movie. No, this is a slow-motion trainwreck happening in real time.

“I—” You stop yourself. What the hell am I doing?

Irene turns around, still smirking as if she just hit you with the world’s greatest comeback. “What? Did you come to call me an idiot again?”

“No! I mean—YES, but—” You flounder, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you still have. She raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you mutter, realizing that at this point, the only way to salvage your pride is to act like you meant this all along.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cringe crawl up your spine. “I—I think I like you. A lot.”

You don’t stop there. No. That would be too easy.

“Bae Joohyun, I think... I think I’ve liked you for a long time, and... and this whole thing, the games, the scavenger hunts, the balloons... it’s been ridiculous and stupid and—”

Your voice cracks, and you internally scream. This is so embarrassing. Why did I think this would work against the Ice Queen?

Irene just stands there, her smirk faltering for the first time. “Wait—are you—”

“Yes! I—yes! I like you, okay?” you blurt out, and then immediately want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. “Like, really like you. More than I can even explain. And maybe I don’t always show it, and maybe I’m not the best at this, but I’ve spent so long trying to... uh... win this stupid confession game, and now I’m realizing that I... don’t care about that anymore. I just want you to know that I like you—like, like you—and I’m tired of pretending I don’t!”

There’s a moment of silence. You stand there, your face glowing with humiliation, hands clenched at your sides, waiting for Irene to react. You almost can’t bear to look at her. You can feel the awkwardness radiating between you like a thick cloud, and it’s so heavy that it might as well be an actual physical presence.

Irene doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at you with wide eyes. Then she opens her mouth, and you hold your breath, half-expecting her to laugh in your face or walk away.

Instead, she says, “...Are you... done?”

You blink rapidly, still trying to process her words. “What?”

“Are you done?” she repeats, her voice more amused than anything else. “Because that was about the most painfully awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. I mean, are you seriously this bad at confessing?”

Your face turns bright red, and you immediately want to crawl under a desk and live there for the rest of eternity. “I—No! I mean... Yes, I am. I just... I don’t know how to do this! It’s like every time I try, I keep making it worse, and now I’m... I’m...”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

Irene crosses her arms, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “So, what exactly are you expecting from me now? A confession back? Do you want me to one-up you with some dramatic gesture too?”

The secondhand embarrassment is reaching a point where you feel like you might die from sheer awkwardness. “I—”

“Well, guess what?” she interrupts, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s bad at confessing, you know.” She pauses, letting the words sink in. “I’m just better at pretending I don’t care.”

Your eyes widen. Wait. What?

“You’ve been so obvious for so long. But you’re... you’re a mess,” she says, voice dropping into something a little more serious now. “And I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. I didn’t want to admit it either.”

Your brain short-circuits. “Wait, so... you—”

She gives a dramatic sigh and steps toward you. “I’m just saying,” she continues, “You’re such an idiot. And I can’t believe it took this long for you to get a clue.”

And then, out of nowhere, she leans forward and kisses you.

For a moment, everything stops. Your brain ceases to function as you try to process what just happened.

It takes about five seconds before you realize that you’ve been kissed, and another five seconds to realize that you’re staring at her wide-eyed, as if this were the most confusing thing to ever happen to you. But you’re also feeling like you might pass out from sheer shock.

As Irene pulls away from the kiss, you’re still standing there, completely shell-shocked. Your head is spinning, the words in your mind tumbling over each other, and your whole body is shaking like a leaf. You can’t believe what just happened — you’d been playing this ridiculous back-and-forth for so long, and now it was finally over.

Sort of.

Irene looks entirely too smug for someone who just outplayed you at your own game. “Well, that was definitely a moment, wasn’t it?”

Your mouth opens and closes, but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything remotely intelligent. You can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your brain still processing the fact that she kissed you like it was some kind of casual Tuesday.

“Um... can I... can I just...?” you trail off, desperately trying to regain your composure, but it’s like trying to catch a greased pig.

Irene, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, smirking as she watches you fumble. “What? Are you still processing it, or...?”

But before you can even think of a response, you hear it.

A very loud click.

Both you and Irene freeze at the sound, and the two of you turn towards the source of the noise. And there, standing a few feet away, is Seulgi — grinning like a cat who just got into the cream.

“Oh, this is rich,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone. “Vice president, you really should’ve told me you were planning on doing a ‘confession’ scene. I thought I was going to have to orchestrate this myself, but lucky for me, I had a feeling something like this would go down.”

“No...” you mutter, feeling the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no. Did you seriously just—?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” Seulgi replies with a grin so wide it should be illegal. She’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “You two have been at this for months. I was just waiting for the moment when one of you would finally break. And I caught it all on video!”

You can feel the panic rising in your chest. “Kang Seulgi, no! You—You can’t—”

She takes a few steps closer, completely unfazed by your distress. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t post it... yet,” she says. “But let’s just say I also have some... interesting footage that could influence your future decisions.”

“Seulgi, you wouldn’t,” Irene warns, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Oh, I would,” Seulgi chirps, tapping away on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “I have all the juicy bits. You two were so painfully obvious, I might just have enough material for a whole documentary about your embarrassing little love war.”

(She said the title card! Don’t sue me thank you)

You turn to Irene, a look of pure despair on your face. “Please tell me this is not happening.”

“I swear to God, Seulgi, if you even think about blackmailing us...” Irene starts, but then her eyes flicker to the phone in Seulgi’s hand. She hesitates, realizing there’s really no way to undo this.

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Seulgi says suddenly, and you almost collapse in relief, but then she adds, “Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” you ask, now suspicious.

Seulgi just looks between the two of you, her grin only growing wider. “Well, I was going to use this footage to make you two suffer with some embarrassing compilation videos... but honestly? It’s more fun to watch you both squirm. You’re so pathetically obvious, it’s hilarious.”

You groan and throw your hands up in exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Of course, Seulgi would have been lurking in the shadows, ready to capture every moment.”

Irene, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and glances at the phone again, looking more irritated than ever. “You better not show this to anyone. Or I will make your life a living nightmare.”

“Oh please,” Seulgi says, tapping the screen. “I’m just going to enjoy watching you two suffer in peace for now. But you know, if you’re ever interested in... making a deal... I’m all ears.”

Irene crosses her arms, giving Seulgi a death glare. “You really want to start blackmailing THE president and vice president of the student council? Don’t forget, I have connections.”

Seulgi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off... for now. But let’s just say, I’ll be keeping my eyes open. You two are so obvious.”

As Seulgi walks away, still chuckling to herself, you and Irene stand there, completely defeated.

You’re both speechless.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter again, this time to Irene, who’s clearly just as done with the situation as you are. “I swear, Seulgi is too much.”

Irene lets out a long sigh and places a hand over her face, as if trying to hide her sheer embarrassment. “This is never going to be over, is it?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m stuck with this for life.”

“I don’t think I can show my face at school tomorrow,” Irene admits, finally letting out a little laugh despite herself.

“Same,” you reply, feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. “I’m going to pretend I’m sick. I’ll fake an injury. I’ll fake... I don’t know, something.”

“You should,” Irene agrees, “and I’ll be right there with you. The entire school will know about our ‘confession’ before lunch.”

There’s a brief silence between you both, and then, at the same time, you both erupt into groans of frustration and turned away from each other.

“This is why I hate you.”

“This is why I hate you,” Irene replies, her voice thick with secondhand embarrassment.

And there it is — the grand culmination of months of tension, teasing, and awkward games. And it ended up with you both being caught on video, standing like two idiots while Seulgi secretly enjoyed every moment of it.

Today’s result: Both lost (even with a fcking kiss)

The week after you left for the exchange program felt like a blur for you — the excitement, the new environment, and the unfamiliar routines made everything feel like a whirlwind.

But back at school, Irene was in a much different place.

Every day, Seulgi would come to school with a new glint in her eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, and a phone hidden somewhere on her person. She wasn’t as sneaky as she thought; Irene could spot her from a mile away, and each time, she’d smirk to herself.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this way too much, Bae Joohyun” Irene would mutter, though the grin never left her face.

And why wouldn’t she? Each time Seulgi presented her with another batch of pictures — snapshots from the infamous day of the confession — Irene’s heart would flutter in the most embarrassing way.

There was the one of you, mid-sentence, as you tried to pull off your grand declaration. Your face was a perfect mix of awkwardness and desperation, eyes wide as you blurted out the confession.

The best part? The expression on your face was so utterly panicked that it made Irene burst into a fit of giggles every time she looked at it.

Then there was the one of you standing there, your hands raised in dramatic surrender, as Seulgi’s camera flashed. Your face was a blend of mortification and determination. Irene would often catch herself replaying that moment in her head — how precious you looked, fighting so hard for that confession you never thought you’d be able to get out.

But the one that made her giddy the most was a candid shot — one taken right after the kiss. It wasn’t a perfect picture by any means, but there you were, lips still pink from the kiss, standing in complete shock as Irene pulled away with that smug smile plastered across her face. You looked like you’d just been struck by lightning…

…and Irene was absolutely in love with the image.

Every time she glanced at it, she could feel the warmth in her chest, the little skip in her heartbeat.

But the real kicker? The deal she made with Seulgi.

“If you promise to keep these between us... and not use them as leverage against me,” Irene had said one day, as Seulgi grinned with her phone in hand, “then maybe... just maybe... you’ll get something in return.”

Seulgi had raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are we talking about here?”

Irene’s eyes glinted mischievously. “The ‘one’ photo you really want. The one where I’m looking adorably happy in front of that dork. I’ll give it to you... for a price.”

“Deal,” Seulgi said instantly, knowing exactly which picture Irene was talking about — the one of her, holding her phone with a soft smile, staring at all the pictures of you. The one where the subtle joy in her eyes was enough to make Seulgi’s heart melt.

And that, of course, meant that Irene had the perfect little “deal” in her pocket. She now had the ultimate keepsake of her vice president and all those memories of their relationship’s unspoken history — one that no one else would ever know about. Not just the hilarious moments, the embarrassment, or even the kiss itself, but the sweetness of it all — tucked away in her phone, a secret only for her to see.

The first time you sent her a message after you’d arrived at your exchange program, she stared at her phone for a moment longer than necessary, then quickly typed back:

“I miss you already. Do you remember that day?”

She hit send before she could overthink it. Almost immediately, she received a reply.

“Of course I do, Joohyun.” you texted. “How could I forget? My life will forever be haunted by that day, thanks to Seulgi.”

Irene couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m not letting you forget. I’ll be keeping all the best pictures. After all, I did get the perfect shot,” she teased, her fingers flying over her phone.

“You wouldn’t dare...” you wrote back, but Irene could tell you were joking. Your words were playful, the tone light.

“I would,” she replied, sending a winky face along with the message. She then paused, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet connection between you two.

As Irene walked through the campus, heading toward the student council room, she felt oddly content. Despite the distance between you now, despite the teasing and the games and the back-and-forth, there was this undeniable warmth in her chest. She might have started this war thinking she’d win, but now that it was over, she realized she had already won.

You.

Her vice president. The one who had made her life absolutely ridiculous and frustrating, but also the one who had somehow captured her heart in the most unexpected of ways.

Irene flipped through the pictures once more (and the candid shot that she had set as her lock screen)— the ones of you two together — and her smile softened. It was official.

She was never letting go of this.

As she walked into the council room, still holding her phone close to her chest, Seulgi shot her a knowing look. “So, when are you going to send them all the photos and just admit you’re head over heels for your vice president?”

“Soon,” Irene said, her voice thick with happiness, as she swiped through the next batch of pictures. “Just... one more time. I want to keep this to myself for a little longer..”

Seulgi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. “You really are hopeless. It sounds more like you definitely lost this war, isn't it?”

“…maybe.” Irene admitted, unable to stop herself from smiling widely. “But I’m hopelessly in love.”

And with that, she tucked her phone away, heart full of giddy excitement, ready to face whatever came next. After all, she had time. The war might have ended, but this?

This was just the beginning.

(cue the outro)

#red velvet x reader #red velvet fanfic #red velvet #irene #bae joohyun #irene x reader #bae jooyhun icons #irene red velvet #seulgi #x reader

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lvvsong · 1 day ago

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casual

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

words: 428

warnings: angst?? gay.

author's note: I have been so obsessed with chappell roan, and I have a big fat crush on billie so I was inspired!! lmk what y'all think. very sorry for the inactivity, dual credit is kicking my butt...

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

it's really not the first time you've had this conversation. stolen glances, fleeting touches, a tension so heavy you can cut with a knife. it can only get so frustrating. regardless, you awoke at 1:12 am to a “u up?” text from billie. it was too late, this was only a time meant for bad decisions and regrets.

well, you met up with her at a dimly lit bar anyway. you swore this would be the last time, but upon seeing her you can't help but smile, despite everything.

“hey, I wanted to see you” she murmurs softly. “I kind of wanted to see you too, though I really shouldn't” you respond, slipping into the seat next to her. the truth hangs between you, and the silence is heavy, uncomfortable even.

“so, what do we even…have, here billie?” you break the silence with a very bold and straight-forward question. “you tell everyone we're friends, but behind closed doors we kiss, we have intimacy. friends don't do that, billie.”

her hand clenches around her glass, she looks like she almost answers but, she shrugs. she looks away, almost in shame and says “I don't know what we have.. but something is there”

the words feel like crumbs, you're exhausted from pretending this is enough. “you can't keep doing this to me, billie, maybe you just have to choose” your voice breaks, feeling a sense of betrayal.

Billie's face is covered in guilt, then she takes a breath and looks at you. “stay…I'm tired of pretending that I don't want you, I'll try to be what you need” you've been waiting to hear those words, just to see if she would fight for you and take a step forward.

you reach for her hand, her fingers slip into yours, finally something you were used to, something familiar that you could hold on to. “only if you're sure” you state. “I'm sure, I've never been so sure of anything” she responds.

she pulls you into her arms, her hold is tight, like she’s afraid you might slip away if she lets go. you can feel her heartbeat, steady and reassuring, a silent promise that maybe she’s ready to let this be real. “so…where do we go from here?” she asks, a little laugh slipping through her words. “wherever you want. as long as you’re ready to let me in.”

and for the first time, it feels like you’re both stepping into something solid, not casual, something more than “almost.” this time, it feels like you’re both ready to let it be real.

#x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x fem!reader #gay #billie eilish angst

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graciereadshannigram · 2 days ago

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hey fam, welcome to the October round up of all my favorite fics i read this month!!

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July August September

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Mine to Touch by piginapoketuesday

Word Count: 14193 Summary: "You respond so well to hand feeding," Hannibal said, watching Will's hips squirm. "I'm considering binding you for every meal."Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.~Lots of constant stimulation, feeding kink, and orgasm denial. Also lots of love and care.

So I might have a handfeeding kink. Possibly. Who's to say?

A Game for Two by sourweather

Word Count: 7710 Summary: One Long Game. That's what their relationship has always been. And the game never seems to end, which suits them just fine.Some unhinged murder husband content for the soul

Pretty much anything from this author ends up getting a five star rating, and this one was no exception.

Focus and Curiosity by hesterbyrde

Word Count: 7029 Summary: If someone had told Will two months ago that he would wind up regularly sleeping with his psychiatrist, he would have laughed in their face. Not just once, but twice. First for the absurdity of the idea in general. Just the thought of someone carrying on a sexual relationship with their therapist was ridiculous. Never mind that it would also be wildly unethical and illegal. But then he would also laugh at the sheer thought of having a psychiatrist in the first place. He'd avoided them like the plague all his adult life, and largely succeeded save the required eval after he'd been stabbed in the line of duty back when he was a cop. Needless to say that hadn't gone well.But this arrangement with Hannibal Lecter was going very well, strangely enough. Hannibal seemed content to let Will steer the course of his therapy. When Will didn't feel like talking, Hannibal would keep the conversation superficial. Or they would talk about whatever case Will was currently working on for Jack. And when Will did feel like talking, he had to admit some of Hannibal's insights into the quandary of his personality were actually enlightening. And it didn't hurt that the sex was amazing.

THIS BETTER NOT AWAKEN ANYTHING IN ME. Deadass, this inspired me to upgrade my own nipple clamps, so. Do with that information what you will.

Quiet Asphodel by FKAHerSweetness

Word Count: 174475 Summary: Once upon a time, there was a great and just king. This king, long ago, adopted a son and groomed the young prince to hunt monsters that roamed the kingdom. One day, the prince comes upon a monster of wild proportions, both fierce and courteous. The prince vows to the monster: 'I will capture you, as my father bids me.' The monster makes his own vow to the prince: 'I will wed you, as my heart bids me.'

Holy fucking shit. Once again, a deeply uncomfortable and awesome read. Again, nobody is good in this fic. But with my whole chest, FUCK Jack Crawford.

Much Ado About Knotting by l3moncoffee

Word Count: 3352 Summary: “We have a warrant to search the premises!”“Surely you could have knocked,” Hannibal Lecter said, wrapping a protective arm around his Omega.—————————————————— The FBI & Baltimore City Homicide have their sights on the Lecters, a bonded Alpha-Omega pair suspected of torturing and cannibalizing their victims.A strike team is assembled to catch them red-handed, but they run into some unexpected knots along the way.

I need more of this. STAT.

Heart's Desire by Celinesits

Word Count: 34514 Summary: COMPLETEWhat if Hannibal Lecter was given a Love Potion that led him straight to Will Graham? Spending two weeks with your Heart’s Desire is a dream come true.Meanwhile, Will Graham is fulfilling his public duty by staying with Hannibal, but being smothered in affection forces Will to confront his increasingly confused feelings for Doctor Lecter. Thank you if you have supported this story- kudos and comments/bookmarks are so kind x ❤️Based on the characters created by Thomas Harris, and Hannibal TV show creator Bryan Fuller.

I loved how well this was executed, enough that I can forgive the very brief overlap with HP/FBWTFT. Also, very in character Hannibal.

double by YouAreMyDesign

Word Count: 3961 Summary: It took a long time before Will grew from actively fighting these gifts, to resigned acceptance, to eager anticipation. It's just one of those things that comes with dating Hannibal Lecter; gifts are a given. And Hannibal, he soon realized, loves seeing Will in things he's bought.

We see dom Will Graham and we black out.

Patience and Precision by hesterbyrde

Word Count: 6253 Summary: Will drove himself straight from the crime scene to Hannibal's house. He wasn't even halfway up the porch steps when the door cracked open to reveal Hannibal's chiseled face, his features all the sharper with lines of confusion and concern."Will, I wasn't expecting you. Is everything alright?" he asked, pulling the door open to allow Will inside.Will took in the sight for a moment, making a slow fuss of taking off his coat and brushing his shoes on the mat. Hannibal was not in a suit. Not even in casual wear. Rather he was wearing a pair of soft grey lounge pants and a cable knit red sweater. Will had the sudden urge to press his face into the fabric and see if the crimson yarn was as soft as it looked.

Nipple clamps are my kryptonite.

pick up your phone by abbymyg

Word Count: 1404 Summary: Alana calls Will at an inopportune time.

A reread!! I love this one so much.

Recognition by StratsWrote

Word Count: 3910 Summary: The video was simple, a man sat in a high-back chair with his legs spread and his hand between them. He had a magnificent cock, uncut, red, thick. Will loved that cock. He worshipped it in his mind. And watching it now, Will groaned in pleasure, sinking deeper into the bed with his own hand stroking himself. Will has a certain porn actor he's a fan of. He's never seen his face, but he knows every breath and groan and whimper he makes. When he meets Dr. Lecter, a consultant on the Shrike case, Will doesn't find him particularly interesting until in the midst of saving a life, he hears the same sighs and hums he's pleasured himself to coming from the doctor next to him.

Oh ideal. This was so hot.

Housekeeping by FKAHerSweetness

Word Count: 96562 Summary: Marriage is a creature living separate from its components. Yet it requires attention, tolerance and care. Have you seen it? Could you recognize its deep wounds - and which one of you inflicted them? And are they ready to heal? What do you really know about this illusory animal?

Holy shit. When I say this fic got under my skin in the best way possible, I truly mean that. Will is terrible. Honestly, so is Chilton. Hannibal is also not great. This is a story about not great people, but like a car crash, I simply couldn't look away. I love erotic psychological horror and this was ticking all of the boxes for me.

The Accident by TigerPrawn

Word Count: 1369 Summary: Sharing a bed results in unexpected intimacy.

And there was only one bed!!! I love.

Moth to the Flame by hannibae

Word Count: 4324 Summary: Will breathes out a laugh, arching his back in surprise when Hannibal presses the dry pad of a finger over his hole. “Nah,” he lets out, shaky and unsure, “I’ve been high before, but I’ve never—God, everything you do is perfect, isn’t it? Are you bad at anything?” It all feels too nice, Hannibal’s body solid and perfect against his own, his hands squeezing and kneading his flesh, his hips working up against Will’s own. It’s exactly how it shouldn’t be with Hannibal.

stoned Hannigram is absolutely delightful, this was so fucking HOT.

The Strangest Thing by foggys_cupcake_girl

Word Count: 3562 Summary: Will Graham is used to coming home and seeing his husband doing odd things, but he's never come home to find him with his head in a bag of Cheetos, with his hand down the toilet, or lying bare-naked in the living room after a shower.Or, that one where Hannibal tries to do a nice thing and ends up in way, WAY over his head.

STONED HANNIGRAM IS ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL.

Remember Me, I Ask by HigherMagic

Word Count: 10795 Summary: "Part of me was worried you were dead."It's not what he expected to hear, and Will's throat goes tight. The sheath of it is slicked with honey and afterburn, and his fingers flex on the arms of the chair. "You didn't used to let fear of consequences affect you," he replies."Until you."Settled into his life with Duncan, Will is ready to leave everything behind. Until Hannibal breaks out of prison. Will knows his time is limited.

This felt very in character, and was also hot as fuck.

Healthy Curiosity by orphan_account

Word Count: 1267 Summary: Restless, Abigail sneaks off to her fathers' bedroom in the middle of the night seeking comfort. She instead puts some of her curiosities to rest.

Fuck me, I do love voyeurism.

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

A reread that is still fabulous.

the leather runs smooth by drpeaceandlove

Word Count: 4960 Summary: "Are you... encouraging me to sleep with Molly?" Will kept his intent gaze trained upon Hannibal's face, finding that - even through his abilities to empathise with others - he could not discern anything wrong about Hannibal's current demeanour.A feline grin unfurled upon Hannibal's lips and he let out a faint exhalation of amusement, capturing Will's lips in yet another kiss."I am merely advising you, my dear." Hannibal insisted - something Will did not at all believe - and brought his hand back, much to Will's dismay. That disappointment was short-lived, however, when Hannibal began unbuckling the leather belt looped through Will's jeans. "Now, shall we begin our session?"----Or, Hannibal and Will are interrupted by a call during one of their therapy sessions.

Anything involving being railed while on a phone call is gonna make me INCREDIBLY happy.

All the Things that Make a Sound by sourweather

Word Count: 3330 Summary: Hannibal gets an unexpected call from Will while he's in prison. They don't speak, Will just wants Hannibal to listen.

Will calling Hannibal while Hanni's in prison to make him listen while Will fucks Molly? Amazing. Wish I could give this more than one star.

I Hope You'll Feed Me by DorianThey

Word Count: 3473 Summary: Trans!Will Graham hates getting his period, but Hannibal loves taking care of him while he’s bleeding. Especially when Will needs an endorphin boost…

This was hot. That's all.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia

Word Count: 35321 Summary: Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.[Completed]

So this was a reread and I'm still obsessed with it.

Instinct by solarteacup

Word Count: 5329 Summary: Hannibal took another sip of wine, then reached out with both hands to cup Will’s face. He moved slowly, intentionally. His fingers caressed from the point of Will’s chin through the coarse dark hair of his beard, fanning out to his cheeks. When his fingertips reached Will’s ears, he stopped, cradling Will’s jaw in his palms while his thumbs brushed against old scars. He smiled, eyes moving from Will’s reflective gaze down to his slightly parted lips. “Instinct is nothing more than lessons learned and skills acquired over millions of years of self-preservation. Genetic patterns built to keep us alive without thinking. Legs to run or kick, arms to climb or scratch…” “And mouths to bite?” Will spoke low, eyes darting across Hannibal’s, unsure where to settle his gaze. Hannibal hummed. “The mouth serves many, many purposes." ______________ aka Hannibal gives Will anatomy lessons on what he and his mouth were built for.

Oh dear. I fear this has awoken something in me.

it’s only a matter of time before we all burn by madeofbees

Word Count: 11963 Summary: help, please voice cracking 2:13am blinking the world on and off. The flashing he couldn’t trust the time a power outage a will outage he needed to check his phone couldn’t tolerate hannibal away from his ear what do you need will heavy with sleep composed and solid propping will up keeping him from flying apart, shattering like a fragile teacupi need you to make it stop—will has a panic attack, hannibal fixes it

THIS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD AND SO FREAKIN' HOT.

you are the shower of light i devour by madeofbees

Word Count: 26255 Summary: Will has spent his life on suppressants, living as a beta, repressing as much of his sexuality as he can. It’s easier, raises fewer questions. But suppressants only work so well for so long, and chronic overuse only makes the eventual heat worse. Still, he rests easy knowing that he’s perceived as a beta, and therefore is safe.Until his psychiatrist casually mentions it’s been a while since his last heat, and does he require any assistance?Yes, actually. He does.—Almost exclusively smut, with a dash of trauma!angst, heavily seasoned with obliviously and incorrectly assumed one-sided feels.

I do adore a good chronic overuse of suppressants leads to an intense heat trope.

looked up at the sky and it was maroon by madeofbees

Word Count: 15852 Summary: Will accidentally sends Hannibal a dick pic and Hannibal loses his shit. That’s it that’s the story.eta: now with edits!

i LOVE Hannibal nearly setting his home on fire because of a dick pic from Will. absolutely amazing, 10/10.

Doctor Lecter’s Fabulously Buff Investigator by TheSilverQueen

Word Count: 5625 Summary: Online conferences due to the quarantine are how Doctor Lecter's colleagues learn that: 1) Doctor Lecter has a beautiful home; 2) Doctor Lecter is married; and 3) Doctor Lecter's husband is fabulously buff.

This was very silly and I loved it.

I Only Have Eyes For You by sourweather

Word Count: 3827 Summary: Will gets so, so bored at Hannibal's dinner parties. But they're dating, so he can't exactly say no. So one night, he decides to have some fun, and tries to make Hannibal jealous by flirting with one of the guests. It doesn't go how Will expected.

Another re-read, another one that's still incredible.

Caught in the Act by UndeadRobby

Word Count: 2829 Summary: A collection of oneshots where Hannibal and Will get caught in... compromising positions.

Amazing.

Will Graham's Unconventional Health Care Proxy by UndeadRobby

Word Count: 3383 Summary: "It appears our dear friend Will Graham was in an accident, and is currently unconscious at Johns Hopkins. They needed someone to consent to continued treatment on his behalf, now that they have completed the actively life-saving treatment.”Frederick blinks. “And… he listed you as his healthcare proxy? Not, oh, I don’t know, his wife? Jack Crawford? Alana Bloom? A dog?”

Hannibal being Will's healthcare proxy and rubbing it in everyone else's face is hysterical and I loved it.

Like a Room Without a Roof by halotolerant

Word Count: 52881 Summary: Will is an awkward, single Submissive who has to get a temporary partner so he can pass an Alignment Health Assessment for his job. Hannibal is a Dom agreeable to low-level ‘sessions’ in which no sex or feelings will get involved.None of that works out quite to plan.

This was such a fun take on a BDSM AU!!

Make the world go quiet - sensory deprivation by Incidentsofunknownorigins

Word Count: 6071 Summary: Back in America 4th of July weekend,Will is triggered by fireworks and past trauma, Hannibal finds a way to distract him.

Trauma response mitigated by sex? Say less. Also written by a friend!

Hummingbird by sourweather

Word Count: 5416 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been seeing each other for a few months. They're keeping things pretty casual, sneaking around behind closed doors. Until Will finds out he's pregnant with Hannibal's baby.

This was fluffy goodness.

Pupping Season. by TheDarkestMindWithin

Word Count: 2377 Summary: Will's ready for pups, Hannibal remains adamant he is not.

This is exactly what I want out of a non-con scenario, holy SHIT. This was also a reread.

Captive by sixtieshairdo

Word Count: 1436 Summary: “What would Franklyn do if he saw you like this?” He relishes the way he can feel Hannibal’s cock twitch inside him whenever he clenches around him just a little tighter. “What would Jack do if he saw you like this?” The thought that Jack would disapprove of his relationship with Hannibal only makes Will spread his thighs wider, fucking down onto Hannibal’s cock faster, mind-drunk on how he can hear the sounds of his ass cheeks clapping. He’s fully naked, the way Hannibal likes him to be, and Hannibal’s mostly dressed – except for his pants around his knees – the way Will likes him to be. He can’t imagine what his sweaty knees are doing to the leather under him, but he knows Hannibal wouldn’t hesitate to keep the desecrated furniture in his office as evidence of their sordid affairs.

Fake relationship? Featuring a jealous Franklyn?? Catnip.

Hanni's Boy by Ishxallxgood

Word Count: 4648 Summary: Franklyn Froideveaux falls in love at first sight with none other than our friendly neighborhood empath. The only problem is, the object of his affections already has a partner. What is a man to do? Stalk the shit out of and emulate said partner of course. And it doesn't hurt that the man's partner just so happens to be Franklyn's very own psychiatrist Doctor Hannibal Lecter.Pure crack inspired by Jessie's Girl

This was so perfect, everything I wanted.

Savor You by Murder_Cupcake

Word Count: 585 Summary: Hannibal wants to pleasure Will, who's pregnant, heavy and embarrassed.

This was so so so hot.

in the truly gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini

Word Count: 9473 Summary: Hannibal and Will have murder husbands mind palace sex, and Alana watches obsessively. A slow, sneaky grin slides its way across Will’s face as he looks up at Hannibal and teases, “You enjoy being watched.” “Does a lion eat its prey while it is still alive?” Hannibal asks rhetorically, an amused quirk to his lips. He drags his elbows against the silk sheets, letting himself rest his weight on them so he can comfortably brush his fingers through Will’s curls. After a pause, he drops his head, and presses his open mouth to Will’s. He pulls back a fraction, and breathes, “Yes.” Fully smiling now, sharp and uncontrolled, Will arches up against Hannibal’s body, and asks, “Does that make me the lion, or the prey?” “You are simply part of the pride,” Hannibal murmurs.

This. Was. So. Hot.

aaaand that's a wrap for October!! have fun babes!!

#gracie reads hannigram #fic recs #hannigram fic recs #hannigram recs #hannigram #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #mads mikkelsen #hannigram fic #nbc hannibal #hugh dancy

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yushi-ni · 2 days ago

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NCT WISH ᯓ★ and jealousy

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist ✨🎀🩵

wishies reaction to jealousy - how they handle their emotions when they get jealous. just fluff, no extreme situations are mentioned. simple - common things that can cause jealousy in a relationship. ᯓᡣ𐭩 hiiii loves ✨✨🧚🏼‍♀️ here is the ot6 reaction that had the most votes in the poll!!! i accidentally set the duration to a week instead of one day so i just picked the one that had the most votes as of right now. but don't worry, i will also write the other scenarios someday soon!!!! 🎀 I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

오시온 - oh sion ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sion thinks he is slick - nonchalant when it comes to his jealousy. but mans is literally as transparent as a glass door. he doesn't get jealous easily but when he does, he is definitely the type to try and keep his cool when there are others around. with an emphasis on 'try'. depending on the situation and the people involved, definitely has different ways of handling - showing his jealousy. let's say it's something involving his members, something silly as the maknaes claiming all your attention even though sion himself wants to spend time with you as well. he knows you love his younger brothers and just want to take care of them but he cannot help the sort of heaviness that he feels. will definitely first try to just get said members to leave you alone and find someone else to play. if it doesn't work, will sigh out loud and make it very obvious that he is annoyed and almost makes it awkward for the other party involved, making the atmosphere in the room very.. tense. enough for his members to leave you alone.

jealous sion in public is a different story tho, will have his hands on you the second he sees someone else looking at you a bit too long. hand on your lower back, holding your hand in a tight grip as if he was scared you would run off (chill sion) gets super clingy, back hugging you while lowkey glaring at the other person. will never admit that he is jealous tho. brushes it off as soon as he feels like the coast is clear. will play it off as a joke because he will never voice out that he feels jealous, thinks it's a bit childish especially because he knows you are in a very happy and healthy relationship together. even when you tell him it's ok to be jealous as long as he communicates his worries with you, he will still act as if he was never jealous in the first place. will shoot you his famous (pretty) smile while pretending to be super chill and unbothered, quietly giggling to himself as well because both you and him know his little ego would not survive the dent it would make.

you love him nonetheless tho, you lowkey think it's cute when he gets jealous. he will never cross a line especially not when it comes to you. you are his person and he just doesn't want to lose you.

마에다 리쿠 - maeda riku ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

riku is the silent one. silent with expressing his feelings with words tho.. not his facial expressions. won't full on glare at others like sion would, but yk his typical face expression when he puffs up his cheeks and just silently watches his surroundings? yup, that would be him. others might not see that he is jealous but you know your bf better than anyone else, so you can immediately tell when he feels 'uncomfortable' because of someone or something you do. if he would be watching the scene unfold from a distance, he wil pull his 'puffy cheeks - big doe eyes' while fidgeting with his own fingers. just silently hoping you would cut of your conversation with the person that was being a bit too handsy to his liking. but if he was next to you, he would be clinging onto you but at the same time trying to make it seem like he was oh so interested in that wonderful color on the wall. let's say you ran into an old friend or you, being the social butterfly you, get in a fun conversation with someone at a party (or any other social gathering) riku would be standing next to you, arms linked in yours, playing with your fingers or the fabric of your shirt. just waiting for you to focus your attention on him again.

i just don't see riku as an 'childish' or 'unreasonable' jealous person. he trusts you and he knows you won't ever do something to purposely make him jealous, he just doesn't know how to act whenever something happens. confuses jealousy with uncomfortable situations. rather than pure jealousy, riku feels uncomfortable with the thought of someone being too close - touchy with you. not always the most confident especially not because he still thinks you are way too pretty and perfect for him so he might just feel a bit intimidated and exposed to something like jealousy. unsure how to bring it up to you he often just brushes it off to avoid upsetting you with his feelings. he is just in need of your reassurance and affection to calm himself down again. so please, give him the biggest hug ever. he is just so in love with you and needs you to show him you are just as head over heels for him to realize his jealousy is not something to overthink about.

토쿠노 유우시 - tokuno yushi ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yushi is a little mixture of a lot of different things. depending on the reason behind his jealousy he might act differently. at times, he just feels 'intimidated' by the other person and would be keep quiet and to himself and just see which way the cat jumps. but at other moments; yushi will get super touchy and clingy, with you still unaware of the other person, but soon enough you get the memo of what's going on. yushi is never one to back down from a little pda but when he gets jealous and all he wants is the other person to take his preying eyes off of you; he will not averse to show that you are his. but as soon as the situation has passed, his jealousy will be gone almost as quick as it came in the first place.

but if it's something that involves one of his members he might get vocal in terms of calling out his members and just straight up telling them to leave you alone. quick to jump in as soon as he sees something not to his liking. might come off as an attack on the other person but he just simply can't always control himself when it comes to you. but on the contrary let's say it's sion that for whatever reason got yushi in a battle with his inner demons, he won't be so confident or quick to talk back. not because he is scared of sion, not at all, but he looks up to him as a big brother and somehow cannot bring himself to call out sion regarding such things. rather complains to you and gets a bit whiny or vents to himself with an underlining annoyed tone just needing to let out some (tiny) steam. he is just in need of his gf (you) showing him how much she loves him to be able to calm his tensed heart.

you won't need long to get yushi back to his loving and gentle self because he is absolutely head over heels for you and as soon as his attention is back to you, his jealous and annoyed attitude is long gone.

김재희 - kim jaehee ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

jaehee is a cute little fluff ball but he is very mature for his age. might deal with jealousy the best out of all wishies. definitely the type of person to just voice out his feelings when he gets jealous over a situation that happened. might not use the actual word 'jealous' when expressing himself but he just wants you to know how he feels and thinks the best way to solve uncomfortable situations is to talk it out. he knows what could possibly make him feel uneasy so he also avoids getting himself in such situations as well, so you won't feel the same way when it's the other way around. if he does let his jealousy take the best of him (for a teeny tiny moment) he might come across as a bit mean - harsh to the people involved. a guy very obviously trying to get your attention even though he is right next to you? jaehee will blurt out a (petty) comment loud enough for the other person to hear or will just straight up tell the guy to kindly fuck off because you are with him, your amazing bf and you do not need another guy on his haunting mission to disturb your peace. might make a comment here and there when you two are alone again, not because he is mad but simply because he cannot believe how obnoxious some people are. won't take a lot of effort on your side to get his mind off of it and soon enough he will have forgotten about the thing that caused him to feel jealous in the first place.

doesn't get jealous when it comes to his members. you want to play with saku and ryo instead of watching a movie with him like you guys actually planned to do? that's ok! you can watch the movie later!!!! yushi asks you guys to join their fun basketball match outside? sure! you can have some alone time afterwards too!!! he is very confident and more so comfortable in your relationship so he does not feel the need to question you or his own intentions, ever. (pls i need a jaehee bf)

히로세 료 - hiroshe ryo ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

ryo is a petty one. not in a rude way tho, in a 'why would someone else have to help you out when your amazing bf is there to help out his pretty gf' because yes, you are the most prettiest person he has ever laid his eyes on and he knows others will think the same thing when they see you. not afraid to express his jealousy when it is necessary (in his eyes) especially when it comes to his members. hyung or not, ryo will definitely call out his friends when they do something that he doesn't like. he will never blame you tho, not that you would ever push his buttons to the point of jealousy, but he just never thinks you are in the wrong. he knows how pretty you are and how lovable, cute, funny and kind his perfect gf is so he never points his finger at you. but you being too perfectly you, made ryo quickly realize he might not be the only one feeling that way about you.

won't be too expressive in public settings tho, but you can just see by the way he is clenching his jaw that he is not fond of whatever is happening in front of him. get ready for whiny ryo when you two are alone again. will go on a full rant about the guy and how it was unnecessary (in his eyes) to come ask if you guys were enjoying the food, twice??? one was enough. and don't get him started about the fact that the waiter only asked you if you wanted a straw with your drink. what if he wanted a straw too? will complain all night if you don't stop him right there and then. give him some well deserved kisses and love and he will soon be back to his usual cute self.

후지나가 사쿠야 - fujinaga sakuya ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sakuya is still young. you are his first real relationship and he is still trying to figure out how everything works with this whole bf - gf thing. he knows what jealousy means and trust me, this guy has been jealous plenty of times but he refuses to give in to this feeling. i mean?? you are his gf right?? you like him right?? you still love him.. right?? he knows you do, he knows that at the end of the day, you are his and he is yours but he cannot help but feel jealous whenever you seem to be a bit too close with someone else or more specifically, when someone else is a bit too close to you.

definitely the type to try and play it off as if he wasn't bothered by it. simply because he does not know how to deal with these sudden rushes of emotions and feelings. will get quiet as he tries to convince himself that he is overthinking. is a bit insecure when it comes to this, especially when one of his members is the reason behind his jealousy. starts questioning and doubting his own worth and wonders if you might rather be with one of his cool hyungs. maybe you did like older guys..? will shoot a glare at said member while biting the side of his lip. a bad habit he picked up whenever he was deep in thoughts. even though he tries to keep his cool and hide his feelings, everyone can clearly tell what's going on. the usually bubbly boy, was visibly fighting inner demons as he was just wishing for his older member to leave you alone so he can have your attention again. better said; saku has a hard time sharing your attention. just wants you all to himself ngl. not in a possessive way but in a "i am so in love and i want to spend every minute of the day with you" kind of way.

definitely expect clingy - silently observing saku in public settings. definitely won't speak up or interfere with you and the other person, even if it eats him up from the inside. you will have to show him there is no need to feel jealous. just include him in your conversation with your friend or the person that is claiming all your attention much against his liking. hold his hand and give it a little squeeze, just so he knows you acknowledge him and his presence. won't be able to snap out of it easily, so as the day goes by he will still be quieter than usual. he just needs your reassurance to feel better again. deep down he knows he has no reason to worry about anything but he is just young and in love. he is learning about all these new feelings and things as time passes so please be patient and tell him you love him as much as possible.

#fujinaga sakuya #hirose ryo #jaehee #maeda riku #nct riku #nct wish #nct x reader #nct yushi #nctnewteam #nctwish #yushinini #yushi ni #tokuno yushi #yushi #sion #nct sion #oh sion #sakuya #nct imagines

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koyagifs · 2 days ago

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𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓮 𝓘𝓷 𝓐 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 「 V 」

⤷ pairing : wooyoung x reader ⤷ au : non idol! | strangers to lovers | slow burn ⤷ genre : fluff | crack | angst ⤷word count: 1.725 words ⤷ summary: yn sees the new world as wooyoung searches for his girlfriend. ⤷ warning: argument!

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ➜ @chanceonceli @soso59love-blog

── .✦ Yn took a tentative step forward, her bare feet feeling the coolness of the concrete beneath her. The city’s sounds were so different from the quiet solitude of Wooyoung's apartment. The rush of passing cars, the faint chatter of people walking by, the buzz of distant conversations all blended together in an unfamiliar symphony. It was overwhelming in a way, but also strangely captivating. She had never been outside like this before, and the experience felt both thrilling and unnerving.

As she stood there, more passersby began to glance at her, their eyes lingering on her peculiar appearance. Some looked away quickly, perhaps uncomfortable with the sight of someone who seemed so out of place, while others were more intrigued, trying to figure out what exactly she was doing on the busy street.

Yn hesitated, unsure of what to do next. It was a strange kind of freedom, standing there, even if she didn’t fully belong. She let the breeze brush against her face, her hair swaying slightly. The streetlights cast a soft glow on her surroundings, adding to the feeling that she didn’t quite fit in this world yet.

She glanced back toward Wooyoung’s apartment, wondering if she should return. Her time outside had been brief, but the temptation to explore further gnawed at her. Her heart beat a little faster, unsure if it was from excitement or from the uncertainty of her own desires.

“Maybe just a little longer,” she whispered, stepping a bit further into the evening air.

Yn felt the wind tug at her hair, pushing it back from her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the breeze fill her senses, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. There was something oddly freeing about being outside, her usual constraints momentarily forgotten. It was as though she had been locked away in a bottle for so long that now, the world outside felt both exhilarating and daunting.

She began walking aimlessly, letting the rhythm of her steps match the pulsing beat of the city around her. The sounds of footsteps, distant voices, and the hum of neon lights blended into a soundtrack of her thoughts. She didn’t have a destination in mind, nor did she need one. She was simply existing in the moment, letting the world unfold around her as she walked.

Her mind wandered back to Wooyoung and his kindness. Despite everything that had happened, he had asked her to stay—had made her feel seen, even when the world seemed so alien.

As she wandered further down the street, the glowing signs of shops and restaurants caught her attention. She paused in front of one, staring at the bustling life inside. People laughing, eating, and talking as though everything was so simple. It felt foreign to her.

"Could I ever fit into this world?" she whispered under her breath, her voice almost drowned out by the noise around her.

But despite the uncertainty, Yn knew one thing for certain—she wanted to stay just a little longer in this world outside her bottle, if only to find out what it felt like to truly belong.

── .✦ Wooyoung's frustration was mounting with each unanswered call and unread text. His thoughts kept racing, the conversation with Minyoung replaying over and over in his head. The more he tried to reach her, the more distant she seemed. His heart clenched, unsure if he had said the wrong thing or if this was something that couldn’t be fixed by a simple apology.

He had left the apartment with the intention of clearing his mind, trying to think of a way to make things right. But now, as he wandered through the streets, the weight of everything—Minyoung, his work, his feelings—was pressing down on him. He had no idea where to go, no real plan, just a deep-seated need to find her and make sure she was okay.

His phone buzzed in his hand, a new message lighting up the screen. For a brief moment, his heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Minyoung reaching out, but it was a text from one of his friends. He let out a frustrated sigh, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

"Where are you, Minyoung?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

Wooyoung walked through the dimly lit streets, his footsteps echoing against the pavement. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions, each one pulling him in a different direction. He hadn’t meant for things to escalate like this, but it seemed like every attempt to explain himself just pushed Minyoung further away. The thought of losing her, of everything falling apart, weighed on him more than he was willing to admit.

He passed a few familiar landmarks—the corner store, the small park where they had spent afternoons together—but none of it seemed to offer him any comfort. His thoughts kept drifting back to Yn, and how, for just a moment, her presence had felt like a brief escape from the chaos. The warmth she had shown him, the understanding in her eyes—it was something he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

Wooyoung turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

Yn was standing there, just a few steps ahead, looking out into the street with an unreadable expression. She seemed out of place in the bustle of the city, her simple dress and ethereal presence drawing eyes from passersby.

For a moment, he stood there, unsure if he had imagined her. Walking towards her, Wooyoung felt a surge of panic as he realized who it was.

“Yn?” His voice came out in a hushed breath, a mix of confusion and relief flooding through him.

Wooyoung was just arms reach when he was pulled back, hard. Ready to curse the person out, Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat as he spun around, his pulse quickening in surprise. Minyoung stood there, her grip on his arm firm and unyielding, her expression a mixture of anger and frustration. Her eyes burned with a sharp intensity, one that caught him off guard.

“Minyoung, what the hell?” he started, his voice a little shaky, but he quickly tried to regain his composure. “Why weren't you answering your calls?”

Minyoung's eyes flashed with irritation, her grip tightening on Wooyoung’s arm as she took a step closer, her face a mixture of disbelief and fury. "I’ve been busy, Wooyoung," she snapped, her tone sharp and full of reproach. “You think I’m just supposed to drop everything because you’re calling me, huh?”

Wooyoung’s chest tightened, the frustration bubbling up again. "I’ve been worried, Minyoung. You didn’t pick up any of my calls. What do you expect me to think?”

As Minyoung scoffed, Wooyoung turned back around to see yn gone. Panic filled his chest as he tried to figure out how to find his genie and deal with girlfriend. Wooyoung’s heart raced as he scanned the area around him, his gaze darting between the empty street and the fading figure of Minyoung. The pit in his stomach deepened when he realized Yn was nowhere to be seen. His frustration with the situation boiled over, but it was quickly replaced by a sharp panic. His mind raced as he tried to recall the last time he had seen her. Had she gone back to the bottle? Or had she walked off in the chaos of everything?

"Minyoung can we please take this home and not out here? " he asked.

Minyoung’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step forward, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. The frustration in Wooyoung’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, and she wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

"Take this home?" she repeated with a scoff, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You think we’re going to have some heartfelt conversation after you’ve been ignoring me all night?

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. He could feel the weight of Minyoung’s gaze on him, the accusation in her voice stinging, but his mind was elsewhere. All he wanted was to resolve this situation with her as quickly as possible so he could focus on finding Yn.

"Minyoung, please," he urged, his voice softening just enough to show that he wasn’t trying to dismiss her feelings.

Minyoung eyes held fury and hurt as she stared at Wooyoung. " no, we're done. I'm tired of this Wooyoung!

Wooyoung froze, the words striking him like a cold, sharp slap. His breath caught in his throat as he processed what Minyoung had just said. For a moment, everything seemed to still—her words echoing in his ears as his mind tried to catch up.

"Minyoung…" he began, his voice barely above a whisper, struggling to form the words.

Wooyoung stood there, rooted to the spot as Minyoung's footsteps faded into the distance. Each step she took away from him felt like a growing distance between them, and no matter how many times he called out her name, she didn’t look back.

His chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. There was no denying the weight of what had just happened. Minyoung was gone. The relationship he thought he could salvage had fallen apart right before his eyes.

But even as the sting of her departure dug deep into his heart, another sense of urgency clawed at him. Yn. He had to find her.

His mind raced as he turned back, heading down the street. The empty, cool night air felt suffocating. Each thought swirled in his mind—his failed relationship, the frustration, and his growing need to find Yn. What if she had gone back to the bottle? What if something had happened to her?

His pulse quickened. He didn’t have time to dwell on the end of his relationship right now. He couldn’t lose her too. Yn was different. She had always been there, a quiet, calming presence in his chaotic life. He couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward her. She had been his constant, even if he hadn’t fully realized it until now.

Wooyoung’s steps quickened as he scanned the street, looking for any sign of Yn. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“Yn… please be okay.” The words escaped him like a desperate plea, and he kept walking, his thoughts solely focused on finding her.

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #wooyoung x you #ateez oneshot #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez wooyoung x reader #wooyoung ateez #ateez wooyoung #ateez jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #── .✦ genie in a bottle

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mrs-kodzuken · 2 days ago

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hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter seven

stay ari abdul

❝I hope I occupy your mind

No one deserves you, yeah you're mine

Only with you I feel alive

If you leave me here, I'll die❞

The layout of the hotel was simple, sleek and seemed perfect for two adults, except those adults would have to be in a relationship if there was only one bed—or close family members.

Strangely, you didn’t feel the least bit mad though, a bit overwhelmed with the whole gas leak situation and the fact that the receptionist lied to your face but other than that, it was like you were at home.

But tonight, you’d be sharing a bed with Kenma—and you both weren’t family nor very close; it kick-started a flutter in your heart.

You watched him gazing around the room, skipping over the other living human being too as he stuck certain things to mind, like which side of the room the bathroom was at, where the remote to the TV was placed, where you were staring at him from and so on.

Kenma didn’t know how to feel, especially about rooming with the girl he actually realized he has a miniscule—huge—crush for.

Kenma was hoping—alongside you as well—that tonight wouldn’t make anything more strange between the both of you, however, he could almost guess that it would be the case for the night.

Kuroo stayed at an Airbnb with his friends, Bokuto, Akaashi and other high school friends you had never met—you had taken the liberty yourself to ask—so, you had no choice but to stay in the hotel room with Kenma.

You weren’t complaining too much though because you had become more comfortable with him over this past week, so it didn’t bother you too much. Especially when you learned to put the whole ‘he masturbated to the thought of you’ out of your head, that did leave lingering feelings of a schoolgirl crush. It’s not like you would ever admit it though.

“So…” You trailed on to Kenma, “What do we do now?” You looked up from your standing spot, the hotel looked really nice.

You haven’t been to a hotel since your last vacation with your parents too. You tried to not be awkward with Kenma, flashes of your last talks with Akaashi were still fresh and at this point, you were too chicken to admit your feelings for Kenma.

“I guess just lounge til we're tired...?” He questioned, because that’s what he mostly does when his days off align with work and college. Now with you taking up even those rare days too, he needed a little quiet time in his head.

Kenma plopped down on the nearby, small sofa and pulled out his phone. You took that as a sign that he didn’t want to talk and then rolled your eyes.

“Okay, Kenma,” You responded, opening up Pinterest yourself. You didn’t like sitting in mere silence either, it was practically deafening—it made you uncomfortable. So, you realized after so long, you had been rambling to Kenma about the things you were viewing on Pinterest.

“Oh, I think I like this picture better though, it has ribbons on the screen unlike the last one, but the last one was super cute too, though…” You trailed, scrolling between two lockscreens on your phone.

You just couldn’t decide, and all Kenma could respond with was a “Mhm.”

That was until you found a quiz, “Hey, wait! Should I take this quiz that’ll tell me what kind of bread I am? I hope I’m sourdough, it’s delicious.” You asked Kenma, hoping this time he’ll respond.

He looked up from his phone to see you sprawled out on the bed, claiming it as yours. You looked cute as hell; Kenma couldn’t not soften his gaze from the random rambling you’ve been doing for the past hour.

“I think you’d be a sweet bread,” he said, not realizing how it sounded out loud until your head snapped up to meet his eyes that were trailed on your body.

“Like a coffee one because you drink it so often,” He hurried to add, alongside giving a fake snort to make it seem like a joke. Kenma didn’t want to be the person to initiate the conversation you both have been waiting for, but the buildup of talking was more nerve racking than seeing what was on the other side.

After that bit, you didn’t speak anymore but put on a random TV show that was on, after Kenma’s compliment, you were in your head about how you needed to say something—anything—to him about your feelings.

However, with the way he looks at you, so kind now, as if you both are dear friends, you just can’t. Not to mention, when he’s helpful or does things for you just because he wants to with no ulterior motives.

That’s what makes you swoon for him, and it sucked for you. Between the hours from then and now, it was a comfortable silence, Kenma had turned the side table lamp on instead of the big, overhead light.

You had completed the last bit of homework that needed to be done so you could relax for the rest of fall break, and you watched Kenma—without him knowing—turn his phone horizontal.

Watching his expressions when he was focused was mesmerizing to you, you couldn’t look away from him. Kenma’s appearance was also just one of those things that had you swallowing hard and clenching your thighs together, as much as you won’t admit.

Like a hawk though, the first yawn that escapes your mouth, he’s up. “Come on, I’ll order some dinner while you get ready for bed.” Kenma breaks you out of your trance-like state, not bothering that you are too tired to eat now.

“I don’t want to, I’m tired now,” You rolled over onto your face, your voice coming out muffled from the pillow.

“I don’t care, you’re eating. Get in the shower and don’t make me repeat myself.” You peeked from your pillow to him turned around, his backside facing you.

The rush of butterflies and urge in your lower abdomen was breathtaking. You never knew that Kenma could be assertive, but then again, you knew certain parts of him—only little tid-bits that he wanted you to know.

“Okay, fine.” You grumbled, trying to hide your flushed face with your hair as you trudged to the bathroom with your bag that you packed.

You could slightly hear him through the door, ordering dinner for the both of you, you did like that Kenma cared for you, it sent a rush of no other through your body.

After your relaxing shower, you were met with dinner, it was something simple, but Kenma knew your favorites after living with you for so long.

“Thank you, Kenma.” You smiled, happy that you were eating, having not realized that you were even hungry.

“Don’t mention it.” He stated, scrolling on his phone before throwing away the scraps of his food.

“I’m going to shower; I’ll sleep on the floor when I’m back.” He said, not turning back and was about to close the white door.

“Hey, what? No, you’re not. The floor is going to be uncomfortable to sleep on, you can’t.” You said confused, the bed was big enough, and more, for the both of you.

“No, seriously, I’m fine with the flo-”

“Do you not want to sleep with me? I showered, you know. I’m not dirty.” You were taking offense to his refusal, it’s not like you weren’t clean either.

“Oh my God, fine. I’ll sleep in the bed with you, okay?” He looked exasperated but couldn’t get over you asking if he didn’t want to sleep with you.

God, you were going to be the death of him, he thought as he shut the door behind him with a hard on. When he took his hair out of his ponytail, he ran a hand through it, trying to relieve the stress from the too tight hair tie.

But, of course, he knew that the hair tie wasn’t the problem, it was his dick. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, especially with you on the other side of the door. Kenma turned on the shower, almost burning hot, just the way he liked it.

The thoughts of you filled his head, the way you laid on the bed, how comfortable you looked, asking you to sleep with him, you with your sleep clothes on. It was all becoming too much as his hand strayed towards his reddening cock, he slowly breathed, hoping to keep the noise down or that it would be muffled by the shower so your ears wouldn’t hear.

He would be painfully embarrassed if you knew that he got off to you, especially when you’re right through the door.

Kenma couldn’t help but to tightly shut his eyes as his hand squeezed his needy cock, God, he needed you, he craved making you his so he wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

His hand pumped up and down his dick rapidly, the slight papping noise of his hand hitting his skin making the illusion that the both of you were having sex.

He groaned loudly, his orgasm that he was trying to get away from, hitting him hard making his hips buck for more. Kenma tried to catch his breath in the deathly hot shower, almost suffocating as he watched his liquid be swallowed by the drain.

He immediately turned the shower cold as ice and hoped that you didn’t hear him as he finally started his ministrations of cleaning himself.

However, you on the other side of the door didn’t give Kenma any more thoughts when you heard a small clap of thunder reach your ears.

That was enough for you to focus on pulling up the weather app and hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was. Of course, to your demise, it was, and that only made things worse for you in particular.

You immediately grabbed the TV remote and wrapped it up inside the blankets so Kenma would have no choice but to watch something that would help you get through this night. And so, when you heard the shower stop, you gripped the remote a bit more and waited for Kenma to get out of the bathroom.

When the door creaked open, Kenma couldn’t help but to feel regretful that you’re in here bundled up because it’s storming outside, and he was in the bathroom masturbating to you.

However, he didn’t expect to see the kids show ‘Bluey’ playing on the large hotel TV screen very loud and proud though. Great, that’s something he’s going to have to listen to for the rest of the night.

He side-eyed you, to let you know he didn’t want to be watching this but the look you gave him was basically saying ‘remember what happened like a week ago’ so, he concluded the best thing to say was nothing.

“Are you okay? Is the storm making you nervous to where you can’t sleep?” He asked, climbing into the bed, trying to fend for some of the covers that you took.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to be watching this.” You shifted your eyes, feeling bad but preferred if you weren’t scared and crying all throughout the night.

Thunderstorms were something you hated, you couldn’t help but to be afraid of them, it probably stemmed from your childhood.

“It’s okay, try to get some sleep,” Was all Kenma said as you got comfortable, however Kenma on the other hand, didn’t. If he wanted more cover and not shiver all night as well as turn the TV down, he’d have to get closer to you in bed.

He decides to bite the bullet, and just scoot closer, what harm could there be?

As he got comfortable, he didn’t expect you to snuggle up closer to him, especially when you were more than likely asleep. He took that chance to grab the remote and turn the TV down a bit, it was hurting from how loud it was.

When Kenma finally settled back down, he realized how close you both were, he could feel how fast his heart was beating in your presence, not to mention that his dick was half hard even though he masturbated in the shower.

Kenma could feel his face flushing as he listened to your breathing, it was soft as he counted your breaths in and out. He definitely would not be able to sleep now, especially when the girl he’s been hateful crushing on is snuggled up right next to him.

Adamant to not make this night something sexual, especially since you’re afraid of thunderstorms, he holds you close like he did that night in your bed.

The rain sounds mixed in with the even breaths of you was soothing enough to probably let him sleep—if you didn’t shuffle around every five seconds.

It almost gives him a heart attack every so often when you shift in your sleep because besides being interested in a kids show, he keeps peering down at you and soft smiling, not being able to help it.

Kenma didn’t realize how long a kids show could actually be, especially when it just kept playing each episode without pause. He reached for the remote, eyes heavy, body wishing to sleep, and mind foggy, hoping to turn it off because it was practically two in the morning by that point.

That was until you stirred, waking up due to the lack of sound, in which Kenma pretends to be asleep, hoping that you didn’t catch him pretending.

All he heard from you was subtle mumbling about how he ‘shouldn’t touch the volume’ and to ‘mind his manners’. That was when he rolled his eyes while they were closed, hoping that it was enough for it to look like he was in REM sleep.

He felt you pat his cheek, trying to resist the rosiness that usually happens during close contact like this. When you shuffle a bit more, he peeks his eye open just very slightly, hoping to not let you see him.

Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy with a cute little pout because of the volume. Kenma felt like his heart was going to burst if you didn’t go back to sleep soon.

That was, until you kept whispering something he couldn’t hear until he focused on the sound and not your looks, “Kenma, I felt like a little creep that day when I peeked at you, and I’m sorry, but it’s nice to know you like me too.” You softly spoke, just shy of a whisper, hoping to not wake him and to go back to sleep yourself.

You felt better and went back to sleep with ease because you confessed and got it off of your chest. However, Kenma on the other hand was internally in shambles, he hoped to God you weren’t talking about what he thought you were.

If he wasn’t so close to you, he’d get up and leave without another word exchanged, it was embarrassing to know that you caught him masturbating to you, if he’s thinking of the day correctly. The whole situation you put him in was horrible, notably that the Bluey theme song was playing while his world was coming apart too.

When your breathing became even again, he had to remove himself just a little way away because his face was a rubescent color and his cock was rock-hard. Kenma stayed that way with you shifting every five seconds, making every minute worse for him until he could see the sun rising through the small emerge that was left open of the black out curtains.

However, that’s when you decide that you want to get up and greet the day, sleeping nicely all throughout the night, except when you had to get that small guilt-ridden comment off your chest.

You peered over at Kenma, feeling shy that you both were so close together last night, also because he was like a heat warmer.

Somehow, he still looked tired even when he was sleeping. “Good morning, Kenma.” You said softly, being sure to ease your way out of bed without waking him up, as well as turning off the TV for his sake.

Funnily enough, the only time Kenma was able to get some sleep was when you finally left the bed and probably were hungry for breakfast.

You, on the other hand, were ecstatic for today because this was the day that you were going to talk to Kenma, you decided it the moment you awoke from sleeping beside him. Your schoolgirl crush with him would be confronted and you’d feel so much better about getting all the feelings out instead of keeping them in.

You’re not in the hotel room when Kenma wakes up, as true, he barely got a wink of sleep, just shy of an hour because the check out time was coming soon.

He decided to leave while he still could and not have to face you right now, it was kind of a shitty thing for him to do, he thought as he got dressed and put his shoes on. But, nevertheless, he’d see you at home anyways, Kenma just needed a little refuge for right now.

Especially since he was your refuge/safe place all night.

When Kenma’s leaving with his backpack on, there’s plenty of people in the hotel hallways, people coming back from lunch, collecting their things to check out, even the cleaning staff too. I

t was understandable that he bumped into someone, but he didn’t bother looking back in such a crowded hallway, however, he didn’t realize that the someone was you.

And if he had seen you, the confused expression on your face as to why he was leaving when you had just got his portion for breakfast and bumped into you without saying anything.

That kind of hurt your feelings as you stood there in the hotel hallway, not sure what to do.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: hiii! i hope you like the update and enjoy :)) we're coming to an end in a few chapters, so excitinggg ! <3

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1 @aldebrana @kad0o

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

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strawb3heart · 10 hours ago

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Leave it all behind Pt.1 | Oscar Piastri

warning: angst, breakup

summary: Having a relationship with Oscar was good, and then it all just stopped.

Oscar and you had been in a relationship since we were teenagers and we practically had known each other since kids. It was love, like if it was meant to be. But then, everything changed. It was as if he was too focused on winning or at least getting a podium, but in that process, he was losing you. All the forgotten dates and the lack of communication, you first felt as if you were to problem. That you weren't trying to stay in touch with him.

"Osc, you sure we're all good?"you asked for the third time as he looked away from the screen of his phone, almost as if he was avoiding to answer "Yeah, nothing has happened. I'm just a bit off today" Even during a video call he didn't seem interested in anything you said. And that's how the last call with him went. And it hurt, so so much that you started to think that it was all your fault.

But distance wasn't the problem, neither did you. Oscar was the one who didn't really cared as much as he used to do. He hadn't text or call you in a while, he even forgot your anniversary a few weeks ago.

What was going on? Was he not interested in you now? Where had all that love and promises went?

And that's when it happened, without a warning, he text you. But it wasn't particularly hard to notice that something was going on.

The pain of betrayal, the anger you felt were surreal. You even started thinking that you hated him, or at least how he ended things with you. How did he changed that much? Why did he hurt you like that? But at the end of the day, you didn't understand him, not even when you tried. It all would be a lie if you told anyone that you didn't cry. Because you, in fact, ended up sobbing uncontrollably as the tears stained your face.

Three days later, a call interrupted your not so good night sleep. It was Nicole, as in your now ex mother in law. Needless to say that you were more than surprise.

"Hello?" You attended, still a bit sleepy "Hi'ya love, I'm really sorry to bother you. But I haven't heard from Osc in a while, so" she laughed a little "I just wanted to check if everything was alright with him, you know" Frozed in your bed, that how you were the second that Nicole end up saying that.

"Uhm, I actually think you need to ask him that yourself, Nicole, because mhm uhm He broke of with me a while ago" Thenn, you clearly heard her gasp, which confirmed you that she nor his entire family was aware of that tinny bitty issue.

"Omg, love, I'm so sorry. As I said, I haven't heard from him. Oh, He's so stupid, sweetie, I will contact him myself in that case. " And that's how all the conversation ended, followed by an uncomfortable goodbye.

Meanwhile, in the McLaren hospitality, everything seemed to be a chaos. And although he was trying to act strong, Oscar Piastri wanted a well needed break of all that pressure. He was starting to get sick of analyzing data and having long meetings about new strategies.

But most of all, he missed you. He had realized hours later he texted you that he had completely fucked up. He was so stupid.

He had led stress control all of his thoughts, which ended up pretty badly. And he realized it even more when he started receiving angry texts from his mom and apparently all of her sisters.

He couldn't restrain himself from crying once he got to his hotel. But just as he was entering the elevator, he was stopped by an angry Thai, who seemed to have also heard the news.

"Mate, are you fucking stupid? How could you even do this? You have no shame" Oscar couldn't even answer as he started sobbing just as Alex finished his complaint.

"You really need to fix this" Alex said just a few moments later "Let her know your sorry, and that you know how stupid your decision was"

"I don't know if she will forgive" He confessed "I have disappointed her so many times that I don't think she'll give me another chance"

"You have to at least try it, if you really love her"

hi loves!! I was thinking of doing a taglist, soo, let me know if you want to be in it <3

Also, I just finished writing this, so idk when I will post pt.2 but I definitely will

remember, requests are always open 🌷

pdst. I would really appreciate having requests bc rn my creativity is not the best 😭

#f1 x oc #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

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scribbling-dragon · 13 hours ago

Text

cor cordium

summary:

in one's heart of hearts

phrase of heart 1. in one's inmost feelings.

(ao3 link)

(5,554 words)

It is the moment between one wildcard and the next.

The utter silence that settles around Scott is…unsettling. The stillness of the air feels wrong, too empty compared with the chaos from mere moments before. His life has been filled with nothing but movement and motion for the past eternity; it has been so long, so hectic, that he is not certain when he last had a moment to simply…stand. To sit and appreciate the sun as it rises over the horizon. To sit and watch as the world springs into life without looking over his shoulder every other moment.

Each second he stands here, unmoving, is another moment that is lost. There is beauty in the tranquillity of it all, something that he thought might be lost. Something that he still hasn’t regained, even with the apparent peace that follows.

He cannot help but glance over his shoulder, even as he misses the moment the sun peeks over the horizon line, turning from a soft glow into a full-on burst of sunlight when he turns around again. There is no longer a snail to dog his steps, to lurk around each shadowed corner and stalk him into submission.

He can feel the exhaustion tugging on the edge of his mind. Can feel the way his eyes droop with exhaustion, and still he does not sleep. Impulse had been the first to crash after the snails returned to wherever they came from, announcing abruptly that they won’t see him until the next wildcard is announced, and that anyone to wake him up before then would be meeting with the business end of his sword.

Cleo had laughed, but they had been the next to disappear as well. Scott hadn’t missed the way they’d looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question, lips tugging down into a frown – he’d waved them off, dismissed them easily as he turned back to the stars and the lightening sky. They had waited beside him for a few moments, questions radiating off their posture before exhaustion seemed to win out there too.

It had been just him and Pearl, after that.

He wasn’t surprised. Pearl had stuck to her odd hours; he’s still not sure what’s wrong with her circadian rhythm, but she sticks to it happily, watching the stars slowly move over head. The moon had been at Scott's back as it set, and Pearl sat facing away from him to watch it descend, and, eventually, disappear.

No words had been exchanged between them – it’s still a little uncomfortable; each poorly timed joke feels as though it is a blade dragged over a scarcely healed wound, opening it back up for infection to sneak its way back in.

Scott can't see this ending well. Can't see any of this ending well – it never does, so why should this time be any different? He may have resolved his hurts with Pearl, may have taken a step forward with mending relations between them. He was almost eager to begin looking past the tattered memories of their soulbond, of being cast aside so callously, and of the hurt he delivered in return.

In the moment, he could say that it was justified. That he had a reason, a good reason to be reacting in such a way. Looking back, he cannot help but feel as though it was an overreaction, one driven by the cold and the fear and the pain and the hurt.

Pearl’s back pressed to against his own, a wall of warmth at his back (guarding him, some part of him whispered, keeping him safe. Watching his back where he himself cannot watch it – he was watching her back too, in a way), felt like an olive branch. Something extended in an offer of friendship; something held out in memory, a peace offering of remember how it used to be?

Scott takes it. Because he is a coward and because he misses it. Misses their house, tucked away in the forest, safe from most anything atop their tower. He misses the easy laughter and the friendship, the silent camaraderie that they had held and taken for granted; hates the silence that fills the moments between them now, how each conversation feels as though they're skipping around the delicate topics, wary of pushing the other too close to an edge.

Pearl had left with the setting of the moon, and Scott remained. Pearl hadn’t questioned his decision, hadn’t tried to cajole him towards his own bed. She simply stood, a whisper of cloth, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and then left him to it.

The trees begin to light up with the sun, smooth rays of light brushing over their leaves. They seem brighter today, unburdened by the shadows of the days that came before this. The days of fear and tension. Scott has never understood the feeling of a prey animal before now, and he doubts he will ever feel such a primal fear again. It had pushed him further than he likes to reflect on, had made panic gather in his throat and weigh heavy upon his chest.

His heart gives an odd little jump with the thought, lurching forward as though it might leap right out of his chest and land on the floor in front of him. He wonders if it would continue beating with his panic, pulsing in time with a body it is no longer a part of. He feels a little sick just imagining it.

“Scott oh Scott, can you let down your hair?”

Scott leans a little further over the edge of the wall, just enough that he can look down at Martyn below. He stands pressed up against the base of the wall, hands spread upwards and out, grinning. He looks a little worse for wear, hair mussed and the purple around his eyes indicating his lack of sleep. Scott doubts he looks much better.

“I wasn’t aware you needed permission.” He leans his chin into one hand as he speaks. “You normally invite yourself in.”

“Didn’t think it would be wise to sneak up on you today,” Martyn laughs. There is something nervous about it, something unsettled. His face is turned upwards, not glancing over his shoulder every few moments. Scott still notices the way his hands shake, how his shoulders twitch at the rustle of leaves as the wind rushes through the trees. “I've seen the weaponry you carry with you.” Martyn smirks, and Scott grins right back at him.

“If you can climb up, you're more than welcome to join me.” He calls back. He doesn’t ask where Ren is, nor does Martyn ask where the rest of his teammates are. Perhaps Ren is asleep too, has crashed after the stress of the snails and everything they entailed.

He is surprised to see Martyn here; seeing him alone is even stranger – he and Ren have been more attached at the hip than usual recently, so to see one without the other feels as though he’s only seeing half the picture.

Martyn hauls himself onto the wall from the ground, fingers digging into the gaps between the cobbles, leaning an elbow on Scott's dangling foot when he gets close enough. Scott kicks at his ribs, half-hearted at best, but Martyn swings away from the wall, almost seeming to slip, and-

Scott reaches forward, grabbing at the shoulders of Martyn's hoodie. The fabric bunches up beneath his fingers, his nails digging in too deep. He can feel the flesh of Martyn's skin beneath his hands, can feel the life that runs through him, still.

Martyn laughs. “Did you really think I’d fall?”

He still has a grip on the wall, Scott realises. One foot wedged into the cobbles, digging in deep enough that he stands there quite happily, Scott's hands fisted in the fabric of his clothing, uncaring or unknowing of how easily Scott could twist him around, leave him hanging upon the wall and finally retire to his bed.

He does not do this.

He continues to hold Martyn, continues to hold his hoodie even as Martyn pulls himself up. He does not react outwardly, tries not to, as Martyn skims a hand over his leg, up it, feigning difficulty reaching the top of the wall, fingers dancing across the stone teasingly as he searches for some purchase on the unyielding rock.

Scott releases him once Martyn is comfortably on top of the wall, one leg still hanging below, but secure enough that he won’t fall backwards and break himself on the forest floor.

(The drop is not a particularly large one, but he doesn’t want to test anyone’s limits right now. Not when everything seems so much more fragile, when exhaustion weighs at everyone’s bones and slows the mind, when one flailing motion could be the difference between life and death. Scott has seen enough death in the last few hours, has watched his friends get slaughtered by a slow, immovable force. He has stared death in the face several times today, and each time he walked away with shaking hands and a frantically beating heart.)

“You know,” Martyn starts, conversational, “I wasn’t sure you'd be able to catch me.”

“Hm.” The sun is higher in the sky. Everything seems so much brighter than usual to his overtired eyes. “And why wouldn’t I? Have you suddenly lost faith in me?”

“Certainly not.” Martyn shuffles to the side, shuffles closer until their shoulders are a whisper apart. A single movement threatens to press them together from hip to knee. Scott resists, but only barely. He can feel the warmth radiating off Martyn from here. “You’ve had a few changes this season, that’s all. Unless those eyes are purely cosmetic?”

He can feel Martyn's eyes on the side of his face, so intense that he suspects Martyn is reading his mind right now, peering into the depths of his brain and gathering the thoughts together to turn over and examine. There’s not really anything interesting going on in there, just thoughts of the sunrise and how tired he is and how close Martyn now sits next to him, and whether he can shuffle just a little closer, press them shoulder to hip to knee to ankle and play it off as a casual motion.

Perhaps Martyn really is reading his thoughts – or maybe Scott is just tired enough that his wants are written across every inch of his face – because he shuffles closer. Presses his shoulder to Scott's own, a line of heat along the left side of his body. He hooks their ankles together, their legs swinging back and forth together, as though they are one.

“They aren’t.” Scott answers, a little belatedly. The exhaustion makes him slow, makes the thoughts in his brain move like molasses and his tongue weigh heavy in his mouth. “I…well, I guess the forest took a little piece of me when we welcomed BigB in; replaced that missing piece with a little bit of itself.”

“Mm.” Martyn continues to watch. His gaze is warm on the side of Scott's face, watching, cataloguing. Scott wonders if his eyes glow in the light, if they brighten more, turning molten in the face of the sun. He feels warm and heavy beneath the gaze, slow to move, slow to react. He finds that he does not particularly mind. “Then why don't you freeze up when I watch you? You still move, your joints still bend, and your heart still beats.”

“I am not a creature of the forest.”

“But the forest is a part of you, is it not? It has changed BigB, and yet you remain the same, save for these.” The first touch of Martyn's hand to the paper-thin skin beneath his eye is careful, gentle. He touches Scott like he is something delicate, something precious.

He turns into it, leaning into the touch. It turns a little heavier, pressing into his cheekbone. He can feel the pulse of Martyn's thumb, the slow thump of a calm heart behind it. Scott wonders if Martyn can feel the way his own heart races, the way it rabbits in his chest.

His eyes begin to slip shut, half-lidded as he turns towards Martyn. Martyn watches him back, expression shuttered and hidden behind something unreadable.

“Do you like it?” Scott finds himself asking. It’s not what he means to say, and definitely not what Martyn expected him to say. It leaves the two of them just as surprised as each other; it’s just enough to chip away the first corner of Martyn's unreadable mask, leaving something a little more genuine beneath it; something a little more alive.

“I…yeah,” Martyn breathes. He swipes a thumb beneath Scott's eye again, before he shifts his hand to settle it fully against his cheek so it cradles his face; pulls him a little closer. The warmth of his hand threatens to scald the skin, to leave an imprint there; Scott worries, for a moment, that the shape of Martyn's hand will truly burn into his face, that he shall have to return to his teammates and explain away the sudden, hand-shaped marking on one side of his face. “Your eyes have always been my favourite part of you,” Martyn murmurs, voice low, as though this is some scandalous confession.

“I know,” he laughs, muffled, leaning in to keep this secretive air between them. They breathe the same air this close. “I've noticed.”

There’s a light flush of colour along the high of Martyn's cheeks, he notes from beneath lidded eyes. It is like the slow rising of the sun, a slight blush along the sky as it approaches, a precursor to the burst of colour that explodes outwards at the first hint of the sun truly rising.

In a similar fashion, Martyn's flush quickly travels down his neck and across his ears; he looks faintly embarrassed, abashed even as he continues to hold Scott's face within the palm of his hand.

He feels as though he could fall asleep here; simply lean his head a little further into the touch and close his eyes entirely. The skin on Martyn's palm is calloused, a little rough and torn around the edges, but each of the grooves and bumps are something that Scott knows, he has spent hours cataloguing each of the blemishes on Martyn's hands, studying the valleys on the palm of his hand, tracing the individual lines back and forth until Martyn relents and squirms away with a short it tickles as explanation.

Scott raises his own hand to Martyn's risk, encircling it within his own grip. He feels the way Martyn tenses fearing his hand being pulled away, before relaxing once more as Scott simple holds onto him. his fingers lay across Martyn's pulse point, though he does not press hard enough to truly feel it. He watches it instead, eyes on Martyn's neck as it thumps with the steady, hard beat of a heart.

Scott's own heart beats in tandem.

“Your pupils are so bright like this,” Martyn tells him. Scott knows, had spent several hours bent over a small hand mirror when the changes first settled. Had peeled back his eyelid to see how far the orange spread, whether it was the entirety of his eye of simply the most visible part. Even the colour of his veins had changed, glowing a bright gold beneath his skin rather than the usual blue. “I like it.”

“Well, I'm glad. I'm certainly stuck with this pair of eyes for the foreseeable future, until I can switch them out again.”

“Ugh, don't say it like that,” Martyn uses his grip on Scott's face to wiggle his head back and forth gently, chastising. “Makes it sound like you're just going to pop these eyes out and pick your next pair from some gross eye-shop.”

“Maybe I will. Some of the newer eye cybernetics are quite fascinating,” he jokes.

“Don't you dare,” Martyn laughs. “I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye ever again if you did that!”

“Mm. You certainly wouldn’t be looking into these eyes if I did that.”

“Can't you just take a compliment? Why’d you have to make it all weird – I was being nice. I was being charming, even! And then you had to go and ruin it.”

Scott laughs at the frown on his face. “Poor thing, I've ruined it all for you now, haven’t I?”

“I was being all suave and flirting,” Martyn insists. Scott lets him have it, because he’s certain the awkward, stumbling way he delivered all of his lines was smooth in Martyn's sleep-deprived brain. He's lucky that Scott finds him so endearing otherwise it would have been painful to sit through it all. He strokes his thumb over the soft underside of Martyn's wrist.

“I know, dear.” He assures. “It was very sweet.”

“Thank you,” Martyn preens a little, leaning closer. “Don't you think I've earned a kiss? For all my hard work?”

“And what hard work would that be?” Scott asks, as he leans back just a little. He feels his lips twitch as Martyn frowns. Martyn can be so expressive when he wants to be, when he’s not locking his true thoughts behind a blank mask or hiding them behind an overexaggerated façade. Scott loves the small crinkle between his brow and the way his nose scrunches when he's annoyed, loves to brush those wrinkles away from his face with a soothing touch or a kind word.

“I walked all the way here from my base and climbed this wall to be next to you. That’s hard work, y’know.”

“Oh, yes. You do know there are stairs just behind us, right? Some that you could have climbed to spare you a little of that effort.”

“I prefer taking the more difficult route when it means someone like you is waiting at the end of it.”

“Flatterer.”

“Don't you know it,” Martyn grins. “C’mon, just a little kiss? A small peck, even?”

“When have you ever been content with just a small kiss?” Scott asks. His other hand, the one not currently curled possessively around a wrist, begins to slide up Martyn's side as he speaks. He can feel Martyn's hand at the small of his back, thumb resting just above his hip.

“When have you?” Martyn counters.

And, well, Scott simply shrugs because he has no good response to that. It’s true, certainly. He can think of several moments when their eagerness for contact, for hands upon each other, has been a detriment to themselves and those around them.

He can feel the warmth of Martyn's breath spreading over his cheeks, a ghost of a touch, before the distance is closed and Martyn presses his mouth to Scott's own.

It is a short touch, a press of warmth between the two of them, mouths close and perfectly respectable. Something that lasts all of a few moments as Martyn's hand abruptly moves upwards on Scott's side, slipping beneath his shirt.

He can feel Martyn's smug smile against his lips when they pull back just slightly, away from the moment of intimacy. A breath before a dive.

Scott is the first one to break free from the standstill, eyes slipping fully shut as he slots his lips back against Martyn's, mapping his body out with his touch rather than his eyes as he pushes forward, leaning further and further into Martyn's space.

The hand on his back shifts to his hip, fingers beginning to dig in; any harder and they’ll leave a bruise, Scott tries not to think too hard about that. He doesn’t have to try very hard for long as Martyn presses back at him, recovered from his momentary shock, lips parting as a tongue brushes over Scott's lips.

He sighs into the kiss, a short, breathy sound that he's embarrassed about for all of three seconds before Martyn is drawing the remainder of the breath from his lungs.

He melts forward as Martyn presses another kiss into him, deeper than the one before that, feels his heart stutter in his chest as Martyn bites into his lip, hard enough to draw blood to the surface. The taste of iron doesn’t sway him, if anything it only spurs him on further when they pull apart for a moment, both of their chests heaving from breathlessness and exhilaration alike, and Scott can see the gold of his blood on Martyn's lip, slowly trickling down to his jaw.

He wipes it away with one thumb, succeeding only in smearing it from the corner of Martyn's mouth. It looks like kiss-smudged lipstick and Scott finds that he likes it far too much to be parted from Martyn for much longer than is necessary, pulling him back in.

The heat of Martyn's hand travels up his back, steps over each of the vertebrae in his spine as the moments tick on, seeming to become longer and longer with each moment. Scott can feel the beating of his heart, can feel the thumping of it as Martyn draws a careful hand across the front of his chest, fingers tapping out a rhythm against his ribs.

That rhythm halts, interrupted mid-beat, as Martyn discovers the first protruding shard of bone.

Scott feels the moment he stills against him, all of his loose contentment evaporating as he draws a finger over the exposed bone once more, then again. Scott shudders at the sensation, the sharp drag of skin and nail over the bone travelling right through his body, short frissons of energy bursting out from the site of contact.

“I…what-?”

“You're telling me you’ve never touched a bone before?” Scott asks. “Come on, don't tell me that scares you.”

“It doesn’t,” Martyn insists, loud where he had been quiet before. Both of them wince at the volume and Scott barely represses the urge to glance over his shoulder, check that his teammates sleep on peacefully. If he had woken them, he would most certainly know it. “It’s just…does it hurt? I don't want it to hurt.”

“I don't think you could hurt me if you tried.” He says. Promises, maybe. It feels like the truth to him. Everything feels syrupy and slow, filtered through a haze of amber and gold as he stares at Martyn and Martyn stares back at him, seeking the truth in his honeyed eyes. He smiles as Martyn's face clears, a realisation clicking together in his mind.

“Is…no, nevermind.” Martyn allows himself to trail off, turning his face away.

“Tell me anyway?” he asks. Turns Martyn's face back towards his own with a gentle touch. Martyn doesn’t even feign resistance, all too willing to follow after him. Scott guides his face back towards his own with two fingers pressed to his jaw; Martyn follows behind, blind in his faith and eager to please as a loyal hound might be.

“Is your heart…exposed too?” Martyn asks. His words halting and steeped in hesitance. He refuses to meet Scott's eyes, perhaps ashamed to look at him after asking such a question. Scott does not mind.

“Mm. Why don't you find out?” he invites.

Martyn hesitates for a moment, then two, before he pushes his hand a little further, brushes over more and more of the rib bone, tracing along the curve of it with a reverence that should be reserved for something holy. Scott shivers under the careful attention, averting his eyes when he feels Martyn look upwards from where he's bowed himself over Scott.

The sun reaches higher into the sky, and yet the server is quiet. Scott cannot help but be thankful for this, unwilling for any of his friends to come across the pair of them like this. He cannot help but feel as though he is being laid bare beneath Martyn, even though his shirt hasn’t even come off and Martyn remains similarly clothed.

He swallows as Martyn's finger reaches the end of the bone, circling the point of it curiously for a moment. He feels an inhale catch in his throat, bubbling there as he tips his head back, facing towards the sky. He cannot bear to look at Martyn a moment longer, cannot bear to observe the source of the warmth that presses against his bones with such delicacy, as though they might snap beneath hands, as though Scott is made of delicately woven glass.

He is made of stronger, sterner stuff than that. Only, in this moment, he feels as though he is being unwound, spooled across the ground. No longer a single cohesive being but several parts that have lost communication with each other, sending sensations to his brain that only serve to muddle it further.

Martyn's hand dips into the cavity of his chest, feeling out the edges of it with his fingers, teasing at the skin there with a soft brush of his fingers before moving on.

“You know,” Martyn breathes, a laugh on his tongue, “I didn’t actually believe you.”

“And how are you feeling now?” Scott rolls his head to one side, peeking at Martyn from beneath one eyelid. Martyn finds his eyes anyway, seeking him out easily, as though he’s always aware of when Scott's eyes rest upon him. He can feel the heat in his face, can see it reflected back at him from Martyn.

“Curious.”

Martyn leans up, towards his face once more. The hand inside his chest is still, simply resting there. He presses a kiss to Scott's neck, whisper-soft, then another to the edge of his jaw. He cannot help the way he tilts his head backwards, tipping his chin back to expose more of his neck.

Another gasp shudders its way out of his chest when something brushes against the edge of his heart. He feels the way his heart spasms at the sudden contact, seizing in his chest at the new sensation. He feels the way it bubbles in his chest, expands in his throat until he can scarcely breathe.

He feels Martyn's eyes on him, can feel the way he's waiting for Scott's reaction until he makes another move.

“Are you going to leave me hanging?” He asks. Chokes out, really. Martyn's kind enough not to mention it.

“Just want to make sure your heart isn’t about to give out on us.” Martyn chuckles. “Might be a little awkward to explain to your teammates.”

“I’d leave that part to you.” Scott says. “Please, continue.”

“Only if you're certain, Martyn starts.

“I am.” He pulls Martyn closer, drags him up so he's close enough to kiss back into breathlessness. He shouldn’t be the only one that feels as though his heart is about to burst out of his chest, and Martyn's slow, careful explorations have left him feeling as though his nerves have been set alight. “Come now, don't you want to feel how my heart beats for you?”

That seems to do it. Scott's not quite sure what exactly it was; maybe the wording, or maybe the way he said it. Or maybe it was the small tug of Martyn's hair that spurred him into motion once more, resettled his confidence and allowed him to push through his uncertainty.

All he knows is that in the next moment Martyn's hand surrounds his heart entirely and he feels as though his world has whited out, leaving nothing but the sensation of Martyn's hand and the thumping of his heart behind.

It feels as though his entire being is cradled within the palm of a single hand; like his whole world has shrunk down to just those sensations, that warmth that coats his entire being. It is like being wrapped in a warm blanket, or the feeling of a warm drink travelling down your throat on the coldest day of the year.

He must gasp, or make some kind of sound, because the sensation is retreating just as quickly as it came, leaving him disoriented and near-crying with the loss.

He reaches out with an empty hand, grasping onto the first thing he comes into contact with. It is warm and solid beneath his hand and he curls himself towards it, seeking more of that warmth from before, missing how it had surrounded his entire soul so carefully.

The morning sun does little to battle the chill that settles over him, and he shakes even as a hand smooths over his spine, down his back. It leaves a trail of heat in its wake, but it is still not the same as before, not the same as that all-consuming warmth that he felt for a few moments and perhaps never again.

“Scott?”

He hums in response, feeling too tired to even open his eyes. The exhaustion from the past few days catching up with him, no doubt.

“Geez, man. You can't do that to a guy.”

“Don't call me man,” he mutters into a faceful of fabric. Martyn's shoulder, he's pretty sure now that some of his senses are returning. “You just had my heart in your hand.”

“I, yeah, all right, whatever.” He feels Martyn press his forehead against the top of his head. Feels the sigh he releases into Scott's hair. “That was weird, right? Not just for you but for me as well – I thought you were dying honestly, the sound you made was like a wounded animal.”

Scott snorts. “If this is your idea of being comforting, or even nice, you're missing the mark by a few miles.”

“I'm being worried.” Martyn retorts. “I thought I’d killed you just because I wanted to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Mm, quite the opposite, actually.” He can't think of a moment where he was more content than that one, with a hand around his heart, cradling him in warmth and safety and comfort. He doubts anything could recreate such a sensation, and he has no idea how to put it into words. “It made…hm. It was like being wrapped in the warmest blanket, ugh, no, that’s not right. It was…comforting? Something nice, or safe. Like the idea of comfort and safety bundled into one and then turned into a sensation.”

“Uh-huh.” Martyn sounds distracted, even as he nods against Scott's head. “Um, sorry to burst this little bubble you're in right now, but Cleo’s stood in your doorway glaring at us.”

“I can assure you, she’s only glaring at you.”

“I- ugh, you're insufferable, you know that, right?”

“So you keep telling me,” he uncurls one arm from where it’s wrapped around Martyn (when had that happened? Matter of fact, when had he ended up being cradled against Martyn's chest? Or in his lap?) and waves dismissively in the direction that he hopes Cleo is in. “And yet you continue to crawl back to me each and every time, grovelling at my feet.”

“I haven’t done that since the island!” Martyn yelps, far too loud that close to his ears. Scott still grins at the protest, mind full of the moments when Martyn had pulled himself around the pointless door and begged for sanctuary and allyship. “And I barely grovelled, I only called it that because you were my last hope for a teammate – I’d tried to kill everyone else at that point.”

“You really know how to make a man feel special.”

Martyn isn’t give another chance to defend himself as Cleo speaks up. “You boys all right up there?”

“Peachy.” Martyn calls back. “You can leave us be.”

“So the sound of a wounded, dying animal was someone else?”

Scott stiffens, and he feels Martyn lock up too. No response is forthcoming from either of them, but Scott can feel the way Cleo is staring at his back – she has a way of making her presence known, mainly so she can make fun of him when everyone else turns away. Here, though, it’s worry. Their relationship to Ren and Martyn hasn’t been properly defined, and none of them know where they stand.

For all Cleo knows, Scott could be slowly dying and unable to get a word out. Thankfully, he is not, so he manages to defend Martyn from Cleo’s quickly approaching wrath.

“I'm fine, we were just trying something out.”

“Ugh,” Cleo says. Then, “On the wall, really? Anyone could’ve walked past and seen you two…trying something out.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he tries.

“I don't really care. Or want to know.” Cleo interrupts him. “Go to bed, you're too tired to be fooling around on top of a wall, and if you fall off it and die I'm just going to laugh at you.”

Scott pauses.

“Martyn can come too,” Cleo offers, though the distaste in her voice is clear. “As long as it’s for sleeping and no more experimenting.”

“Well, who can turn down at offer like that!” Martyn goes to stand, only to realise that Scott isn’t going to make a move anytime soon. “Up and attem! C’mon, we've got a grand total of, ehh, ten steps? Maybe twelve? And then you can sleep in an actual bed, all nice and cosied up with me.”

Scott's pretty sure he hears Cleo gag, and that just about seals it for him. Anything to make his friends suffer.

#creaking scott my beloved #born of the idea of 'what if martyn could hold scott's heart in his hands? what if it was kinda (a lot) gay?'#juno.writes #wild life smp #wild life fic #trafficfic #trafficshipping #majorwood #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #trafficblr #wlsmp #wild life scott #wild life martyn

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hunters-vigil · 1 day ago

Text

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 7 - The Pilgrimmage Begins

Previous Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings: warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, implied suggestive stuff but nothing actually happens, traveller uses they/them pronouns anyway but I haven't picked which twin is here yet... talks about the dead (Mavuika's sister)

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

Chasca's character teaser made me want to sob so you get this early.

The Pilgrimage started in two days, and you hadn't spoken to Chasca since the argument, while Chuychu came to check on you not long after Xilonen left for her meeting with the archon.

"She's cooling down. Just give her some time. It took a lot for her not to storm the Speaker's Chambers..." Chuychu admitted with a tired sigh.

"Well, I need her not to charge in there any time soon. Mavuika invited me to stay with her instead of the Inn. I'd rather not have a heart attack from her storming in while I'm asleep." You replied, playing with Chuychu's fingers, that tensed at the moment you admitted to staying with Mavuika.

"That guy from the Masters of the Night-Wind, Oronon, asked about you. Said you weren't home when Ifa went to drop round some vegetables and aphid honey." Your sister changed the subject, her eyes wandering around the room, before settling on what you had been working on when she arrived.

"I forgot about that. Ifa started bringing food over after that saurian Chasca was fostering for him ate my plants." You confessed, shaking your head at the memory. It was only when you realised what Chuychu was looking at that you moved your hands to shield it.

"It's not, it's not finished!" you let out a groan, your attempt to hide the project were halfhearted at best, but your sister just huffed at you. She treated you differently to Chasca, while she would pick fights with her older sister to make her blow off steam and watch her abyssal illness, she was softer with you. She had to be, ever since Chasca made you cry that one time when you were all a lot younger.

But that time was resolved with food, and promises to play together. Now, Chuychu was unsure how to resolve the issues. Chasca wasn't even mad at you anymore, she was just uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Her youngest sister and the pyro archon together... even Chuychu hadn't expected that, but you had been spending a lot of time with the archon back when she first became the pyro archon...

"It's a record. You, Chasca, me, our parents... Mavuika is there too, but I'm making a separate one for her. She deserves it, with everything that rests on her. Natlan's fate rests on her shoulders, it's a lot..." you trailed off, realising you were toeing the line of what nobody but the six ancient name bearers and Mavuika should know.

"You're preserving her legacy, and our family's legacy. Has something happened with Mavuika? You're not usually this sentimental when it comes to history, and that's saying something-"

"Do not blame hormones, I'm only eight weeks- can we continue this conversation after I go pee?"

Chuychu held back a chuckle, nodding as you hurried off to the bathroom.

"Chuychu? I have not seen you in a while. Do you have business with me, or are you here to see your sister?" Mavuika's voice in the speaker's chamber should not be uncommon, but the god of war had not been expecting Chuychu in her private chambers, not without you present at least.

"She's in the bathroom." Your older sister held back a grimace at her voice, trying not to show disrespect to her archon, but it was hard now she knew of another side to her, "Apologies, archon, for my tone."

"It's fine, Chuychu. I know it was not what you or your sister expected when finding out your youngest sister was dating someone. Let alone, having a baby." Mavuika smiled softly as you walked in, heading into her awaiting arms.

The silence was almost awkward, well, it was awkward for Chuychu, until she noticed how at peace you were with your lover.

"I'm going to head out and check on my patients. Treat my baby sister right, archon. And you, drink some water. You've been drinking enough xocoatl that you've probably surpassed Xilonen." Chuychu bid the two of you farewell, giving you a warning look as Mavuika chuckled. Clearly your xocoatl craving was getting out of hand.

"I'll see to it." Mavuika stated, much to the look on your face that disagreed with the taste of water at the moment.

"Water doesn't taste good." You pouted, your fingers playing haphazardly with the zipper of Mavuika's bodysuit.

"My love, what are you doing?" Mavuika hummed in amusement as you continued to play with her zipper.

"You smell better than the food Chuychu tried to give me... and I missed you, we finally have some time to ourselves before the Pilgrimage in two days..." you trailed off, but whatever you had in mind, was not what Mavuika expected, as she ended up with you asleep with your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat.

She watched as your eyelids fluttered, hearing your soft breathing, in and out, in and out...

"Feels too early for so many people to know..." your voice interrupted her thoughts, burying your face in her exposed collarbone, having tugged the zipper down enough for the skin-on-skin contact to be enough for you.

Mavuika hummed, gently brushing an eyelash from your cheek.

"Can I stay here? During everything... I feel safer here, like the flame is watching over, or it's you, I feel safe around you. Maybe both?" your half-awake rambles trailed off as you frowned to yourself, missing how Mavuika's face lit up at what you said.

"You may stay as long as you want, my love. Besides, it's not like you aren't well-versed with your surroundings here." Mavuika chuckled, recalling how many times the two of you had been around the stadium together, whether you were meeting for official meetings, sneaking in between her meetings, or spending the night in the archon's bed...

"Hehe, well... at least you can't get me any more pregnant..." you mumbled, knowing that would be a poor defensive argument to have with your sisters, if it came to it. Shaking your head, you changed the subject, "there are rumours of the golden outlander coming to Natlan next... it's that time of year again."

"I see... honestly, I have been awaiting the day with grave importance. I plan to give offer them Natlan's highest form of hospitality, after everything they have done in each nation so far. The Traveller is a tremendously skilled warrior after all."

"The Traveller? Is that what everyone calls them? Is everyone just being lazy and not calling them their actual name? That's like calling our child, 'the child' instead of their name... but it's too early to think about that." You began to complain, but your voice became muffled as you buried your face in Mavuika's bare chest, much to her amusement.

"Every rumour and story we've heard from anyone visiting seems to refer to them by a different title." Mavuika agreed, her breath hitching as you moved to press a kiss to her collarbone, continuing down to her sternum. Her hand cradled the back of your head, preventing you from going further, much to her reluctance.

"We should be having dinner soon, and unfortunately, my love, eating me does not count." The pyro archon listened to her better judgement this time, despite the pout on your lips at your activities being ceased.

"Am I not allowed to indulge myself in a snack?"

"And you once called me the Archon of Horniess..." Mavuika grumbled, shifting slightly to try reduce the hot feeling flickering across her body. You got under her skin so easily, just from a few kisses-

"Can we have chocolate?" you watched Mavuika's face crinkle up in confusion.

"For dinner?"

You hummed in thought, "with xocoatl?"

"Ah, you heard Chuychu's warning about that, my darling-"

"Ugh, fine. I'll have a forest of colour salad!" you grumbled, folding your arms as you tried to rack your brain for foods you could eat. So many Natlanese recipes had ingredients that you had been warned against...

"What about blazed meat stew?" your lover enquired, tapping her finger to her chin as she tried to think over options.

"Heartburn..." you winced at the thought, giving up and laying down on Mavuika's chest again.

///

The day of the pilgrimmage was almost here, with teams gathering in the stadium entrance to sign up. Preparations were underway, while Mavuika was out and about, Chasca and Chuychu were also busy, leaving you to peacefully sleep in Mavuika's bed after your check-up. Although it was technically a conflict of interest for Chuychu to be your doctor, as your sister, but the situation was sensitive, and the first trimester was full of risk, your sister's goal was as low a risk pregnancy as she could give you. She kept you calm when Mavuika couldn't...

The rumours of the golden outlander and their silver floating companion reached you that evening, when Mavuika returned to join you in bed, holding you close as you listened to her talk about her day.

"I have ensured that they will serve many foods you can safely pick from at the banquets for the Pilgrimmage. If you wish to attend, of course... I know you have had little energy recently." Mavuika's fingers gently drew patterns on your back, listening to each breath you took. In and out. In and out.

"I miss Chasca... Chuychu is still around but, she says Chasca will calm down, I just hope it's before the baby is born, but that's so far from now..." you began to ramble quietly, before your thoughts changed, "I'm glad you're here..." you whispered, eyes cracking open to look at Mavuika's sunshine eyes, a soft smile on her face as you gazed up at her.

"I am too, my darling." Mavuika whispered, pressing kiss after kiss to your face, peppering you in them as you began to giggle and squirm.

"You and your sisters will settle down again... from what I can tell, Chasca isn't angry at either of us anymore, judging from how she was cordial when I saw her. I think, although I can make no assumptions, I believe Chasca isn't sure how to approach you after everything..." Mavuika theorised, her heart aching at these sisterly issues. It reminded her of Hine, and how Mavuika had not been there to defend her sister from possible suitors.

Your silence led to Mavuika glancing down, noticing how you were looking up at her with a soft expression, "my sisters and I... we remind you and Hine."

Your archon hummed, closing her eyes as you began to play with her hair.

"My love, you've stopped eating the Saurian treats that were given to you, right?" you felt Mavuika tense up, her body flushing with heat as she realised she had been caught.

"Uh, yes, I went out to find some wild saurians to give them some, since they were a little dry and-"

"Baby, those were for baby saurians... which I found out after dipping them in xocoatl." You admitted, gaining Mavuika's attention as her eyes widened.

"You ate them too?"

"There's nothing in them that could affect me, Chuychu checked, then she realised they were for saurians after." Biting your lip as Mavuika began to chuckle, her nose brushing yours as she leaned in to show you affection.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

///

"My heart, it's the morning. The Pilgrimmage begins soon. How do you feel?" Mavuika gently woke you, pressing her lips to your forehead as you whined, reaching out for her in determination for her to come back to bed.

"How do you feel?" your voice was hoarse, full of sleep as you sat up, regretting it as the nausea hit you, flailing with the covers to hurry to the bathroom of Mavuika's chambers.

"I guess that answers that question..." Mavuika muttered to herself as she rubbed your back comfortingly, having gotten used to your morning sickness by now. If you were lucky, it would taper off by the end of your first trimester, but you had to get there first.

"Let's get you sorted... it doesn't start yet, so I have time for you, before my duties as the archon." Mavuika cooed, helping you from the floor once you were finished, letting her help you get ready before she had to head out.

There was an offer to sit in the audience of the stadium, so you decided to attend the opening ceremony, sitting down with a cushion beneath you as you waited, hoping to get a glimpse of your sister, who would be competing today.

"Hello! Paimon's Paimon, and this is the Traveller, are we okay to sit with you?" a floating silver creature asked, as an individual cloaked in gold stood behind her, looking at you.

"Sure. It's nice to meet you both. I'm-" you cut yourself off, spotting Mavuika stand up from her throne, a throne that made you blush to think about. It was well hidden however, as the swirling pyro energy heated up the stadium, your lover displaying her use of the flames, as her hair ignited, and she began her speech.

"Skill, strategy, fortune, form... many factors influence strength, but victory never lies. The Pilgrimmage is not merely a trial to determine the strongest among us, but also a stage upon which to showcase your individual growth. Today marks the beginning of yet another legendary saga - one written in the triumphs of the victors! So, without further ado... let the games begin!" Mavuika announced as a horn sounded.

"So, that's the pyro archon? Is it just Paimon or does she seem kinda intimidating?" Paimon enquired, frowning at the amused smile on your face.

"She's been practicing that speech for a while now. You're free to talk to her, just leave it until after the games." You interrupted Paimon talking about how Mavuika was an ordinary person before becoming the Archon. To you, Mavuika was extraordinary... Archon or not.

"Oh, look! It's Kachina and the others!" Paimon shouted, but your eyes lingered on Chasca, and the Flower-Feather clan members you were avoiding, who were chanting her name.

"Um... hey, golden outlander, I know everyone calls you 'the Traveller' but... anyway, could you help me up please? I need to pee again..." you felt your face burn red as the legendary blonde traveller raised an eyebrow, but didn't hesitate to help you up, watching you walk away. The only thing on the Traveller's mind... 'again'?

Mavuika kept an eye on you in the crowds, watching as you were helped up and headed off, almost confusing her until she realised where you were heading. "Of course... the bathroom." She chuckled to herself, before redirecting her attention to the finishing teams stage. Chasca's team had won, so had Kinich's, Iansan's... and the team of Mualani and Kachina too.

///

(a/n: also is anyone interested in other fics, I have at least two written that I haven't posted, one is for Jeht x AFAB!reader, one is Arlecchino x gn!reader, another is Xilonen x AFAB!reader but that's not finished… I also wrote a Mavuika request I had. Arguably it's not so detailed that you could say it fits in this universe but it can be read separately.)

#genshin impact x reader #mavuika x reader #genshin x reader #chasca x sister!reader #chuychu x sister!reader #turned into a series #requested fic

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