#the expressions in this scene are unreal
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
tadpole-art · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Well that was traumatizing :,)
11K notes · View notes
aousboom · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Oh, your lips are pretty dry. I'm just about to apply my lip balm, actually.
YOUR SKY (2024)
Tumblr media
346 notes · View notes
idleorbitals · 2 years ago
Text
sandray making out in ray's car. we knew this scene was coming on multiple levels but still. ouch on multiple levels
Tumblr media
says the man that is about to give the puppy dog eyes of all time. of All Time
sandray are so tough to watch right now because the reason they're wholesome is that they're properly guarded against each other. ray, though he's clearly catching feelings for sand, is in love with someone else, which is very fortifying. sand is testing his own boundaries and being honest with himself about what's working and what isn't. he pulls physically away from ray multiple times here. this scene also has him admitting that he's never had sex more than once with someone he wasn't seeing seriously. when ray asks "so do I have to be your boyfriend to get more?" and sand says "i'll never take someone like you as my boyfriend" and then ray says "can't you just make an exception for me?" neither of them are saying what their words are (of trailer playing us again!!)
ray is not really offering, not in any meaningful way; sand is not declining as much as he is protecting himself. multiple times in this episode sand has indicated that he might be open to something serious with ray and ray has playfully offered something serious in a meaningfully disingenuous way, specifically to ward off the real conversation, and sand has performed brushing him off, to make it clear that he understands what's actually being offered and not offered. it's so twisted because all their surprisingly healthy communication is happening at a level where their words mean almost perfectly the opposite of what their words Actually Mean. it's only healthy because they both understand the nuance here. dangerous fuckin game boys
then mew calls. I've already seen some discourse about this so here comes my addition: yeah it's a good move to prioritize getting your drunk friend to a safe place. ray is doing a good thing here and he's also doing nothing wrong, even if he weren't. as aforementioned in the healthy communication bit; as sand will say shortly; he's made no promises and is well within his rights to do what he pleases, whether or not that comes at the expense of sand's feelings.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
yes, and: I think this shot summarizes really well the emotional heart of this. sand is not offended by ray picking up the call. he's feeling some physical feelings, obviously, about the interruption. but it's only when ray physically shrugs off his arm that he does the kicked puppy face. we see it again when he sighs and swallows his feelings until he hears ray say "sure, where are you? i'm coming" without any acknowledgement, implicit or otherwise, of what ray will be leaving to do so.
there's a perfectly valid scenario here where ray is interrupted in the middle of fun sexy times by the deeper bonds of friendship and goes honorably to attend to those priorities. but that's not what this is, or not the whole of it. he's not just picking mew's safety over sand in this moment; he's actively pushing sand away in favor of attending to mew, before he even knows what the call's about.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
sand is duly hurt and we get to hurt along with him, /especially/ because he's going to take ownership of his own pain in a moment and reiterate his own responsibility. "I don't have the right to be upset with you," he says. and on some level, this is true. but it sure is easy to get why he's hurting
(all ofts watch throughs)
267 notes · View notes
rachelduncangf · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
favourites shots from each orphan black episode 1.06: variations under domestication
1 note · View note
boyfhee · 2 months ago
Text
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦ㅤㅤ sim jaeyun
Tumblr media
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝓲𝗣𝗧───𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.
❪ 5O1O ❫ 。 jake 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 𝑖𝑛 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 ✿ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! making out, explicit sex, fingering, oral ( f ! receiving ), car sex, jake is a little crazy
﹙◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠﹚ first and last time writing smut, this was so stressful >< please be nice. the plot is silly .. jake is silly erm anyway a big big thanks to casey my baef for reviewing this or i would have never posted. happy reading !
Tumblr media
OO1 I WANT YOU
jake first bumped into you during one of the university competitions. you both were volunteering for different contests, running around, and he quite literally bumped into you. apologies spun in the air and you were quick to brush it off, maybe because you were busy. it occured to him that you are very pretty.
second time, it was at the congratulatory dinner with the winners exactly two weeks later. you were incredibly happy, pouring drinks and helping others and he was incredibly curious.
third time, well— you were already in his bed. wasted, tired, satisfied, and it’s a scene that’s burned into his mind.
numbers were exchanged, you both agreed on fridays. although, it barely only stayed limited to fridays. you started calling him after your long and tiring labs and he would want a taste of you after his football coach would get on his nerves again.
the first time he was in your bed would be today. he offered to drive you back and you pulled him closer by his collar in the elevator.
you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess out of your apartment while bumping into things and making your way inside. it doesn’t really matter though. with jake, every mess leads to something good.
“oh, jake!” you moan as he thrusts into you, arms on either side of your head. sex with jake was incredible. he was caring, despite having his long dick in your tight hole, despite teasing you till he had his fill before filling you up.
he fucks you nice and gentle and his eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every single expression, to watch you as you let out the sweetest, most alluring sounds.
“you close, angel?” he grunts as he fucks you slow and deep, with so much passion. you are a wanton mess and he can only chuckle at the muddle he has made out of you, leaving you speechless and fucked to the point you are only nodding furiously, digging your nails into him.
he can see the sweat on your forehead, making your baby hairs stick to your skin. he can feel you clenching around him— you’re still so tight after he has fucked you so many times.
he kisses your neck, right above your pulse, whispering in his low yet sugary voice as he pulls all out before inching all the way inside the very next moment. “come for me, doll,”
your eyes flutter shut as he pushes into you deeper, one hand finding its way to your clit as he elevates your pleasure.
you look unreal with moonlight reflecting off your skin. he is thanking the universe for making the power go out tonight because you look breath taking, and you have taken his breath away.
his tongue runs over your lips and then into your mouth and your moans echo through his mouth when he begins to kiss you slowly. you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “g-gonna cum, jaeyun. . .”
“i know,” he breaths, feeling himself getting closer. he can feel it more than before when he glazes down at your body, all weak and hot, all because of him. it’s like a switch turning on in you when he looks at you like you belong here, and you come undone.
he pulls out with a grunt, pumping his cock on top of you before coming all over your lower stomach. he makes such a mess, although he doubts you would want it otherwise. the sheets are not a problem, he would make sure to help you clean them as a fair apology— not because he fucked you so hard you made a mess all over your sheets, but because it would happen again.
sometimes, you wonder if this is how it is supposed to be.
he immediately grabs a towel to clean you up. his actions are slow and soft and you let out a relaxed sigh at the way he trails his lips over your belly, tasting the remnant of him on his tongue. he goes further down and kisses the insides of your thigh, knowing just now it gets you all bothered.
his eyes find yours from down below, and you wonder why he looks at you like that while he wonders if you are aware that you are otherworldly.
he senses your breath even out and you slip into slumber. you are always the first one to fall asleep and he thinks it’s adorable. he covers you with a duvet, gaze refusing to leave you— who looks so angelic in the after glow, so spent, so blissfully unaware of the things you make him feel.
he guesses he should sleep on the couch but then he decides to stay and watch you longer. your eyes flutter during sleep in the most hypnotising ways and you look like you should be given everything you ever desire. you deserve to have all your wishes fulfilled, to be happy every second of life and never feel lacking. if it is the stars and moon that you want— stars and moon shall you receive.
jake realises this is the first time he has watched you sleeping for so long. he realises how lucky he is to see you like this, bare, open, content. he realises you deserve the entire world instead of some convenient sex a few times a week— the thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.
his heart beats faster and he can feel his fingers clenching involuntarily over the sheets. jake realises you deserve to be sought after every day, every hour, every minute, every second, and not only on days he wants pleasure.
he thinks he is losing his mind, but he feels like a sick bastard to reduce someone like you to just sex, when you deserve to be made love to with utmost care and passion.
a voice in his head tells him he is overthinking— you agreed to this, fully sober. but he still feels an ache in his heart when he thinks about the first time he had sex with you, and he winces at his sheer stupidity for landing you in this arrangement when you deserve better.
the soft rustling of sheets turns his attention to you as you turn, hugging the other pillow in your arms. your cheeks are squished against the soft material— so pure, innocent, like a fairy.
jake feels sick to his stomach.
OO2 IN WAYS MORE THAN ONE
jake feels like the worst man to walk on god’s green earth.
his head is spinning and he can’t stop thinking about the beautiful sounds you let out while he fucked you out of your head the other day— each memory making him feel guiltier.
it’s been three days since he has seen you.
three days of pushing and pulling, of his fingers hovering over your contact to give a call back, three days of holding at the single string of reason left in him.
he avoids walking by your classes, even taking the longer route in the scorching heat. he does a complete one-eighty when he sees you from across the cafeteria, making an excuse to his friends and hurrying out.
jake is absolutely going through it because you went to your birthday party and your pictures on instagram are turning him on. he almost considers unfollowing you but ends up liking your post instead.
he thinks about all the times he has fucked you and all the sounds you let out for him and almost jerks off in the washroom stalls— almost, because he slaps himself back to reality and goes back to having his face buried deep betweent the pages of his book, this time.
“i feel like shit,” is the first thing he says as soon as he plops down on the chair next to sunghoon, immediately going for the can of soda on the table.
“did something happen?” there’s curiosity, just not enough to make him look up.
but the sound of jake popping the can open catches his attention anyway, followed by a groan from the australian. “me and yn are fucking,”
a pause. sunghoon shrugs. he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
for one, you’re really beautiful. if he didn’t know any better, sunghoon would fuck you too out of sheer jealously. and two, jake goes off about you on a weekly basis and it doesn’t take a scientist to know that he might have a thing for you.
although, having sex with your crush on a friday to friday arrangement sounds way awkward for sunghoon’s liking. “oh? good for you,”
“no— no,” jake leans over the table, really engrossed in telling his friend why this is the biggest sin he could’ve ever committed. “this need to stop. she deserves something proper, more than just convenient sex,”
and the latter can only furrow his brows at his words. jake might just be the first person to complaint about this. “is it that serious?”
“it is! she deserves more— better,” he is firm, adamant. there’s an extra emphasis on the way he says better, and he says it so condensingly as if he knows he cannot provide you with that, or maybe he is too scared too.
“does she?” sunghoon scoffs. “or do you want more?”
more.
he does like the sound of that.
jake would never admit it to you, maybe it’s fear, or maybe he doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of you.
he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re basking in the afterglow, hair sprawled over his pillows. when your lips are swollen from all the kissing, when you’re exhausted and too far ruined for another round— jake thinks you might be an angel.
when you asked him if you could stay over for the first time, he wondered if that was even conventional. is that a part of this arrangement? but he ignores that question, immediately grabbing a tshirt for you from his cupboard.
and now on nights you stay over, he stays awake fixing your blanket to make sure you aren’t cold. he can’t sleep— his heartbeat is way too loud on his ears. on nights like those, he fights back the urge to brush his knuckles over the soft skin of your cheek, to gently run his fingers through your hair and kiss you good night on the forehead.
on nights like those, jake wishes there was something more; but then the sun rises and you are gone— the cycle continues.
sunghoon stares at him from his peripheral. watching his friend zone out occasionally isn’t really new, and he taps his pen on the table to get him out of the trance. “i asked you a question,”
“oh, right— uh,” there’s hesitation, jake is thinking. “i’ll see you later,” and then he scurries off out of the study room with a newly found realisation.
Tumblr media
sim jaeyun is terrible, terrible at self control.
it’s no news, just a touch from you gets him worked up. it’s a doucious sin, neither of you mind it. study sessions are an excuse, if anything. jake knows you aren’t any better. you can’t wait until fridays and honestly— he wouldn’t mind eating you out any day despite trying to be the voice of reason between you two. but jake, jaeyun, the way you say it, so sweet and breathlessly, the way you chant his name when he has you spread out on the farthest table in the library, when he’s pounding into you and you’re biting your lips to muffle any sounds— it’s heaven.
but back to him and his self control, absolutely terrible.
jake turns like a firefly to the light when he hears your voice. you have him enchanted, like a moth to a flame. he sees you walk out of your lecture hall and he is gone, tranced.
you look like an angel, you are an angel, irrevocably so. maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen you in four days— his fault for avoiding you and now it’s coming back to bite him— but you look so incredible.
“hi, jake,” he thinks you are calling his name or maybe, it’s just his mind playing games, until you wave your hand in front of his face and bring him back to reality.
“hi,” he huffs, already breathless by the sight of you in your outfit. he doesn’t think he has seen you in that before and he is thanking every deity up there for letting him witness the sight in front of him.
“you good?” you raise your brows, you words once again get him out of his trail of thoughts. your voice is the only thing grounding him to reality and the sight of you is making him lose his mind— it’s everything that’s making him so crazy.
“yeah, very,” and he is ogling you in that outfit, undressing you with his eyes and barely even trying to hide it. god, he can feel himself getting hard just by looking at you. “you don’t know what seeing you in that does to me,”
he says it like a sinful secret, you’d be lying if it doesn’t rouse you a little. his gaze alone does the magic, already having your mind visiting places that would be deemed inappropriate by the code of conduct of your university.
“is that your way of saying i look beautiful?” you don’t let up. god, you are the death of him, looking him in the eyes with dirtiest innuendos, and jake would gladly die in your arms.
“yes. you look so beautiful,” he runs his eyes over the empty hallways before whispering against the shell of your ear. “it’s taking everything in me to not rip that off you,”
and jake doesn’t waste another second before pulling you inside the janitor’s room with him. he is quick with his hands, pushing you up against the door before kissing you hungrily.
it’s insanity how he works you up easily, like he knows you inch by inch. what you like and what you don’t— like having him kiss you messily while grinding his hips against yours— an action that takes you to heaven and back.
he feels your fingers trace over the back of his neck, making him shudder, and he is deliberately letting out a long exhale against your ear. he knows you are impatient, gosh, you always are, despite trying to be so calm and composed, only to be reduced to a puddle by just a few nips and kisses.
“so fucking pretty—” he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheeks, trailing them down to the corner of your lips just so he can hear how adorably you whine when he stops short.
he knows he is dragging this out, it’s evil but he loves it when you’re needy. he plants open mouth kisses against the column of your neck while undoing the buttons of your blouse. and he does it exactly the way that would get you worked up— slow, deliberate, teasing as his fingers brush over your breasts.
his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin while his hand pushes down your bra and trails down to your breasts as his thumb starts to circle your nipple. you clutch onto him, barely able to speak anything except. “jaeyun,”
“yeah,” he responds, grinning against your neck. he loves the way you say his name, like a prayer, like your life depends on it. “got a class after this, pretty?”
you can barely make out his words, only focusing on the way he slides his hand under your trousers, feeling the damp spot on your panties before pushing the flimsy cloth aside.
“yes, but it’s— oh, jake,” your words are cut short by a gasp when his finger finds your clit, and he grins at how you spread your legs instinctively.
“gotta keep that in mind,” he mumbles before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, half because he loves the feeling of his lips against yours, half because you do have a tendency to get loud when he’s working you out with his fingers.
his thumb rubs gentle circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves, barely giving you what you want. he drinks in every single moan and whimper that dances off your lips while your eyes are closed in bliss— he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.
your voice is honeyed— needy and saccharine and breathe— and it has his mind fogging up in admiration. your head is thrown back against the door while he continues his ministrations, flicking your clit. jake could die happily in this very moment and he would have no complaints.
this is everything he desires for yet fears, just being with you makes his heart race in inexplicable ways. the way you’re drowning in pleasure and need, so lovely— it breaks his heart knowing this is only about sex.
his mind registers your moan when he sweeps his index finger across your clit but he is far too lost in his head to focus on anything. you deserved to be treasured, to be loved, like the precious thing that you are. you whine and roll your hips to meet his hand, eager for more, only for him to rip his fingers out.
“jake—” you’re pleading nonsense while clinging to him, but he is already mumbling apologies and fixing your outfit like this was never meant to happen.
“i’m sorry,” there’s a crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that paints confusion all over your face.
“what?” you are still out of breath and in disbelief, not sure if it’s because of his words or because he left you undone for the first time in three weeks.
and jake, hell, he sees the desperation in your eyes. he knows you need him; and he can give in with the way his cock is straining inside his pants but the ache in his chest is far more and worse.
he knows you deserve to be worshiped all over, to be kissed over your skin and told sweet nothings, to have someone who says your name like a chant. you deserve the entire world, instead of some weekly sex that you both are hiding from the entire world like a sin.
so, jake simply walks out of the door once he has fixed your clothes, saying just three words that leave you perplexed. “you deserve better,”
OO3 IN ALL WAYS THAT MATTER
i’m sorry.
you scoff to yourself.
you deserve better.
and you do it again, this time in disbelief. you flip the pen in your hands, barely paying attention to the material in front of you. for a second, you wonder if this was a joke, although nothing about it was funny. especially now the way jake left you high and dry in the janitor’s room a few days ago.
maybe he is conveniently and very politely trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore, hoping you aren’t offended— you do feel quite offended, actually.
jake had no complaints before this and you certainly don’t either.
you both work together just fine, having flexible schedules, communicating actively— well, except now— great in bed ( you would give yourself that. ) you don’t know when you grew a habit of sleeping over at his place, maybe it was when you started waking to the fragrance of freshly prepared food.
you don’t even know if this was a part of the deal. ‘i can’t leave you starving after last night,’ he what he would say as an excuse. it was awkward at first, then you started to find it fun, except when you two almost missed a test because you both got a little too busy in the kitchen.
he is handsome, sweet, kind, and generous with aftercare. he treats you like porcelain after ravishing you all night, like you’re something precious. he is good with his fingers and really fucking great with his mouth. it would be greedy to ask for anything more than having his face buried between your thighs on a weekly basis.
you try to think what you could have done wrong, only to end up with your hands devoid of an answer. you sometimes catch his eyes while passing by his lecture halls— he sits in the front— you don’t understand why he looks at you so much yearning while also running away from you.
no matter which way you think, you can’t find a rational explanation for everything he said to you three days ago.
you recognise jake’s perfume like the back of your hand. it’s woody with oud, oddly fitting for him. sometimes, you wake up with his scent lingering on your skin and it provides you a weird sense of comfort. your eyes follow his movements as he walks inside the library.
you almost wait for him to notice you and say something but he doesn’t. you wonder if he is ignoring you and end up calling out to him yourself. “fancy seeing you here,”
“oh, hi,” and he quite literally freezes at your voice. his heart only beats faster the longer he stares at you. you are angry, a little hurt, he can see it in your eyes. i’m sorry, he wants to say, but he chickens out like usual. “i’ll just— ”
“you’re avoiding me,” you retort, not wanting him to leave you hanging like the last time.
“i’m not—” and he defends himself, only to be cut off by your sharp words.
“stop lying, jake,” he figures that you are really mad, more than he expected you to be.and you wonder if this is even that serious— you two are literally just fuck buddies, but you still find yourself continuing. “you’re ignoring my calls and not even replying to my texts,”
an eerie silence follows. you’ve barely known him for a couple of weeks and can still tell that this is not jake— quiet, lost, speechless, with a gaze that meets everything but your eyes.
“sorry,” is all he is able to say. he does feel guilty. heck, more than he did while trying to fuck you in the janitor’s room. jake feels like the worst guy ever, all because of this stupid situation he got you both into.
it’s stupid, you conclude. you don’t even know what you’re upset at. if it’s his words from that day, his unexpected apology or the fact that he walked out on you in the middle of whatever you were doing, without explanation. “if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, that’s fine—”
“i never said that,” his voice is firm and his next words are determined, like they’re the only ones that matter. “i just said you deserve more,”
“but i am content with this!” you almost want to throw something. jake is refusing to have sex with you because he thinks you deserve better— it feels straight out a poorly written script of a movie. “i’m happy with what we have, i don’t want to be greedy,”
“no, you should be greedy,” he is adamant, shaking his head and all. “you’re amazing— wonderful, you deserve better than some empty sex every week,”
no, you can’t be stupid— he is.
it would be the first time in the history of any friends with benefits arrangement that this is happening. you realise that you can go on for hours about how you are happy with him fucking you every week and he would still refuse respectfully, telling you that you deserve better.
you don’t even think you are mad anymore, just amused. despite his serious voice, you find yourself biting back a giggle at his slightly red face. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed, actually frowning and fighting for your supposed loss in this arrangement which was mutually agreed upon.
“if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume this is your bad attempt at flirting,” you manage to chuckle and he is already pulling out a chair next to you.
it’s like his breath gets caught up in his throat and he is tapping his finger on the table just as fast as his heartbeat. “what if it is?” maybe, he is just taking your chances, maybe he’ll end up making a fool out of himself— it doesn’t matter anymore.
Tumblr media
“jaeyun,” you whine, your fingers pulling on his soft locks when he draws his finger inside your wet hole, almost chuckling as you arch your back off the seat.
“didn’t even do much yet,” he scoffs mockingly, head slanting forward until you could feel his breath against your folds. “you’re already that fucked out?”
it’s your fault, clearly.
you shouldn’t have tried arguing with jake in the middle of library, definitely shouldn’t have tried to rile him up by trying to stroke him through his pants while he was trying to focus on his studies so desperately.
you knew acting up would get you in trouble and you have quite literally landed in the hands of trouble itself— in the backseat of his car with your legs spread open— although, you doubt you would have it any other way.
“oh, shut up—” you huff, still having a little bit of attitude and honestly, jake finds it cute, but so is everything else about you.
you make a throaty cry when he adds another finger, closing your doused eyes when he places a tender kiss on your clit. he’s doing it with practiced ease, knowing you inside-out like anyone else. you’re breathing in deep and exhaling sharply while he strokes your sloppy wet cunt with the tip of his tongue.
he hums satisfactorily at how good you taste. it’s like drugs and he is addicted.
“jake,” you let out a whine, riddled with impatience. “please,”
sometimes, you ask yourself why you are unable to say anything except his name and desperate plea when he has you like this. as if on cue, he presses a few feather light kisses over your dripping folds and hooks his hand under your thighs to pull you closer, already aligning himself at your entrance.
“you’re so beautiful,” he teases his tip at your entrance, adoring your chest with light kisses that are ever so gentle. “so, so, precious,”
you wrap your arms around his neck almost like you don’t want to let him go. he is teasing you and it’s too good and too painful, all at once, and you can only let out a breathy “jake—”
“i want you so bad, baby,” and jake would rather die than keep you waiting. so, he inches into you slowly, head finding your neck instantly as you squeeze him tighter than the last time he fucked you. “in ways more than one,” he whispers a breathy confession, pressing his nose against the side of your neck. “in all ways that matter,”
he wonders if you realise that your heartbeats are in sync.
he lets out a soft groan, drawn and breathy as your walls squeeze around him with each thrust. you whimper when he hits a certain spot and he only lets out a low moan when you suck him deeper.
“fuck—right there, jaeyun!” you’re breathing much more erratic now, raising your hips to meet his. and jake wonders if you know how you get him going when you call him that.
it’s just his name, someone would argue, but the way you say it, so sweet and desperate, coated in your lovely voice.. he likes how it rolls off your tongue. you say it like it’s your right and it is— he is your jaeyun.
he speeds up his thrusts when he feels you getting closer. he pulls away from your neck and loses himself in how ethereal you look, the glow of your face surpassing the stars.
you tug him by his hair pull him into a kiss. he kisses you carefully, unlike his hips pounding into you. his lips move with tenderness, with adoration, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. “go on a date with me, darling,”
“what?” you’re not quite sure if you heard that correctly. you could very well be out of your mind, considering how he is fucking you brainless.
honestly, you can barely think about anything, too busy thinking about how good his cock feels inside you, the way he is moving. he angles his hips better, just the way it would make you come, and you let out a cry.
“i want to give you— fuck —better,” you know it just by his voice that he is close, with the way he moves inside you so desperately. “andnif we’re gonna keep fucking, you have to go on a date with me first,”
and it makes you laugh at how he is so determined to ask you out even in this state, when either of you can barely think, only breathing and groaning heavily. your walls spasm around him as you let go with a whine and he follows with a loud grunt. he presses his forehead against yours, continuing to slam his hips into you and fucking you both through the orgasm.
he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath. his eyes are closed and he plants a kiss on your temple when he feels you nuzzle in the crook of his neck.
“what if it doesn’t work out?” you finally manage to whisper after a while, not sure if you are scared or just stating a possibility.
but jake sees right through you, as always, pressing soft, gentle kisses on your cheeks with the sweetest smile. “not a chance,”
2K notes · View notes
i2rizz · 3 months ago
Text
No Way He Pulled That
Synopsis-No one believed Bachira had a girlfriend-until they saw you, effortlessly stunning at the beach.
|masterlist
->|masterlist #2
Tumblr media
The scorching sun beamed down on the golden sands of the beach, reflecting off the crystal-clear waves lapping at the shore. It was the perfect day for a break from the grueling training at the Neo Egoist League, and the Blue Lock boys were ready to unwind. The air buzzed with laughter, the scent of salt and sunscreen mixing in the breeze as the players staked out their territory along the coast.
And then there was Bachira.
"You guys don't believe me when I say I have a girlfriend?" Meguru huffed, kicking at the sand. "You’ll see! She’s real! And she’s amazing!"
The rest of the players groaned. They'd heard this a hundred times before. Rin scoffed, arms crossed over his chest, while Kaiser smirked with an expression that screamed, "Sure, buddy"
"Bachira, we've known you for years," Isagi chuckled. "If you had a girlfriend, we'd know"
"Yeah, just admit it, you’re making it up for attention," Sae quipped lazily, adjusting his sunglasses. (Js pretend he's also in the NEL or smth)
"Oh yeah? LOOK OVER THERE!" Bachira suddenly shouted, pointing wildly toward the volleyball courts.
All heads snapped in the direction he indicated, and suddenly, the playful chatter among them fell silent.
There, in the middle of a heated game of beach volleyball, stood the very definition of summer beauty. You.
The sunlight kissed your skin, accentuating every perfect curve. Dressed in a fitted bikini top that left little to the imagination, paired with barely-there shorts with the strings of your swimwear peeking out, you exuded effortless confidence. Your hair cascaded in tousled waves, a few strands sticking to your sun-kissed cheeks. A small sheen of sweat clung to your collarbones as you moved with ease, toned legs flexing as you chased after the ball. Every step was like something out of a slow-motion movie scene.
And then—the ball bounced right at your feet. You bent down, arching your back slightly as you picked it up, completely unaware of the jaw-dropping spectacle you had just caused.
A sharp inhale passed through the group.
"No. Fucking. Way," Kaiser murmured, visibly shaken.
Sae’s cool façade cracked just slightly, his eyebrows raising in disbelief. Rin’s arms fell from his chest, his fingers twitching at his sides as if trying to process what he was seeing. Isagi had forgotten to breathe.
"She's—she’s unreal," Chigiri whispered, shaking his head like he was seeing a mirage.
Meanwhile, Barou just clicked his tongue. "Tch. There’s no way Bachira pulled that"
And then—then you looked up, locking eyes with Bachira, and a slow, breathtaking smile stretched across your lips. With effortless grace, you strode toward him, the sunlight illuminating your every move.
The guys stood frozen as you reached Bachira, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a quick but affectionate hug. Before they could even process that, you placed a soft, playful kiss against his cheek.
"Hey, Meguru. Missed me?" you said, voice smooth like honey.
A shit-eating grin spread across Bachira’s face. "Told you, boys. My girlfriend’s the real deal!"
Silence.
Pure, stunned silence.
And then—
"EXCUSE ME?!" Kaiser practically screeched, gripping his hair in disbelief.
"No, this has to be some kind of social experiment," Isagi muttered, looking personally victimized.
Sae was still silent, lips slightly parted as he processed what he had just witnessed. Rin, on the other hand, had turned away completely, face twitching as he glared at the sea as if it had personally offended him.
Barou clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Bullshit. What kind of witchcraft did you use, Bachira?"
"HAHA! The power of my monster, obviously!" Bachira cackled, wrapping an arm around your waist with unfiltered pride.
Chigiri blinked. "Are we in an alternate timeline?"
Gagamaru just nodded solemnly. "We have to be"
Meanwhile, you simply looked at all of them, lips twitching in amusement. "So, you guys didn’t believe Meguru?"
"WE STILL DON'T!" They all shouted in unison, still unable to process the reality before them.
But as you laughed and pressed another teasing kiss to Bachira’s cheek, there was no denying the truth:
Bachira Meguru had, indeed, pulled the hottest girlfriend they had ever seen. And it was breaking their brains.
1K notes · View notes
kingkaisen · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋! 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 gets incredibly pissed off when someone disrespects you in any sort of way.
Your husband is typically a calm and chill person; he doesn’t really get upset when someone even dares to disrespect him.
That all changes when it comes to you.
Be it a cashier with an attitude or a curse trying to attack you, Gojo’s protective instincts kick in and it’s absolutely unreal how he can become so scary and predatorial.
When the gum-smacking cashier at your favorite store gave you a total that was double the amount it should have been, Gojo gave the two of you a chance to work it out yourselves.
After all, he knew you could handle yourself. It was others that he worried about.
“Um,” you started politely, giving a soft smile. “I think you might have rung up a few items twice.”
“I didn’t, hun. Been workin’ here for ten years. If I say your total is $75, it’s $75.”
“But I saw you-”
“If you can’t afford it, then just leave, hun,” the cashier rolled her eyes as she interrupted you.
That was when you looked back at Gojo.
A few moments ago, he was grabbing your grocery bags and putting them into your cart, but now, he was standing right in front of the cash register, staring at the cashier with a facial expression that made her skin crawl.
“I’m gonna ask you kindly not to talk to my lady like that,” Gojo warned. “I’d hate to make a scene right now.”
That was all it took for her to fix her mistakes and rescan your entire cart. Gojo glared at her intensely as she did so. She even gave you a few items for free.
Now, when it comes to curses who can’t easily be scared off with a glare, he’ll destroy even the toughest of special grades instantly if they harm you, even if he was struggling during the fight originally.
His baby being in danger just gives him extra strength, truth be told.
Although he wants you to be as safe as possible, he’s not afraid to let you fight by his side. He actually loves it when you can kick a curse’s ass.
But, when a curse user knocked you unconscious in the middle of a fight, and he actually saw a small pool of blood pouring out of your new wounds?
Those striking blue eyes of his widened. He was so pissed off that he smiled, gritting his teeth. Slowly, he approached the curse user as he spoke.
“Did you just hurt my wife? My wife?”
He killed them. Not instantly, though — he wanted to make them suffer a bit.
Call him sick. Evil. Twisted. He doesn’t give a damn.
As he gently scooped up your injured body, he carefully tended to your wounds, even leaving small random kisses across your body as he did so.
He just loved you more than anything.
11K notes · View notes
8housevenus · 8 months ago
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ placements that feel like a fairytale ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Tumblr media
🧚pisces venus - "i've walked with you once upon a dream," such an exceptional place for venus and a very good lover. thoughtful and remembers little things about somebody. gives even when they have nothing. venus is exalted here, which strengthens the power of venus. rosed-colored glasses, natural lovers. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚neptune in 1st/2nd/7th/9th - 1st/ dreamy appearance, "i wish i could look like you," "i don't know if i wanna be you or be with you," wins people over, sometimes unaware of their influence, stands out in a room full of people. 2nd/ "you sound so sweet," delicate voices, gives the best compliments or receives unique compliments, gets money for no reason or gives money for no reason, very questionable kind of person but it is a likable feature about them. 7th/ unpredictable in love, "tag you're it," loves the chase and the longevity of a new/fresh relationship. people wish they could be with you or have had dreams/thoughts of pursuing you. sometimes people might drop many hints but never say. 9th/ super underrated, people feel elevated in your energy, you bring out a new lens to others, your ability to change and only get better overtime seems super unreal. the type to go mia and then randomly appear in a fancy italian restaurant with 1 million dollars and a rich spouse. they think it and it is, very big planners and attractive to the outside. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚sun in 5th/7th - 5th/ their love is their passion, and their self-expression is one that is bold and unique. this is your "entertainer," placement, understands the role they play in this life. courageous in their love and give an experience that one will never have again. 7th/ people-person, revolves around being open-minded and naturally attracting friends, partners, and even some enemies. a very commendable individual. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚libra/taurus rising - the symbols of beauty and allurance. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚cancer sun - exudes a tender warmth to others. "wifey material, mom friend, therapist," has probably heard it all. cancer sun has seen the vulnerability of everybody they have met, there's a strong trust here and their strength is undeniable. think of fairy godmother. has an emotional depth that allows others to easily fall for them. double points if it is a man with a cancer sun; women will admire this difference about you from other men. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚libra moon - pretty when you cry, everyone stops to hear you talk, such a mediating and magnetic energy, wears their heart on their sleeve and can empathize very well with others they have nothing in common with. all about fairness and equity, wants to be the peacekeeper in most situations. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚venus in 11th/2nd/7th - 11h/ friends will admire you and pick up on your aesthetic and can even try to "become" the same way. you make people feel really good and you are inspiring. 2nd/ you are well kept and seem orderly. soft voice, soft appearance, and loves to smother themselves and others with little gestures. 7th/ ideal partner placement, looking for love in everything they do, has very good connections and dazzles their flirt onto everybody they meet. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚personal planets in 4, 7, 12, 16, 19, 24, 27 degrees - these are libra, cancer, and pisces degrees, can amplify these placements by sprinkling on some of these signs qualities. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚neptune conjunct/ trine sun - dreamy-esque, can't keep you off my mind, is it love is it lust? naturally charming and independent. knows how they make others feel, giving others a sense of hope that makes them cling on forever. usually, the favorite boy or girl for somebody. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚venus conjunct moon/neptune - awareness to what relationships might require, or what other people want out of you. knows how to express themselves properly, can be sweet/seductive one minute, then manipulative/moody the next. likes to change up their style for their partner; very intimate and puts their partner's needs first. will be super feminine for their loved one. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚midheaven conjunt/trine/sextile neptune or venus - enhanced beauty in the public eye. people want to be around you and there's maybe some type of distance between you and your lovers- which makes relationships so much more intriguing. "i've got my eye on you." these people love makeup, jewelry, skin care, anything to appear ideal. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚virgo midheaven - seen as a damsel in distress sometimes; but they are elegant and reserved. they are the ones that people usually rely on and open up to the fastest. their fairytale qualities come from how they act rather than how they speak. they will make sure you are covered and will attract you with their practicality and realness. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚virgo venus - has a purified perception of love, very service oriented and even shy. they are slow and steady in terms of love language, however a virgo venus will always make sure their partner only gets the best. they want to make everything perfect for their significant other, which makes the virgo venus placement seem so admirable. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚cancer venus - soft, sweet, and giving. full of the feminine and embodies the nurturer archetype. magnetic to the opposite sex; babe magnet, and usually wear pastel colors or colors that are bright. they don't like to make themselves unknown to the idea of love. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚moon/neptune in 5th - has such a childlike approach to the world, very full of nostalgia and is deep-rooted in being memorable for others. oftentimes moon in 5th has a dramatized identity about themselves, which gives the fairytale vibes because it can feel almost surreal. neptune can also have this affect, neptune 5th might always get "i wish you were here," or "where's so and so," very memorable and such sweet and delicate impressions to the public. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
🧚sun in 9th - would take their partners through all kinds of experiences, the kind of people to take you higher and change your mind-set on various subjects. very underrated placement and i find it quite fairy-tale like due to the fact that there's always some form of expansion for these individuals and you can see and feel their inner glow when they are in new environments. usually, can have foreigners or various kinds of people fall for them, they quite literally shine in new horizons. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
thank you for reading <3
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
miquiti · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Emotional Disconnection in Lloyd Garmadon: A Psychological and Narrative Analysis
In the most recent season of Ninjago, many viewers noticed a significant shift in the characterization of Lloyd Garmadon. Compared to previous seasons, Lloyd appears withdrawn, distant, and shows clear signs of emotional flattening. His involvement in key events is minimal, his verbal contributions are scarce, and his body language reflects a noticeable sense of detachment. A friend and I even ranked Lloyd as the third ninja with the least screen time this season—only behind Cole and Jay. However, even they maintained their typical personalities in their brief appearances. What concerned us most was the absence of his visions, a trait confirmed as permanent in the previous two seasons.
At first, this change was frustrating. However, after discussing the matter with a friend who is about to graduate in Psychology, she offered an interpretation that completely shifted our perspective: Lloyd may be experiencing emotional disconnection as a result of accumulated traumatic events. Based on this hypothesis, we developed two plausible theories, both supported by psychological literature.
Emotional Disconnection: Clinical Definition and Foundations
Emotional disconnection is a psychological phenomenon associated with conditions such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), dissociative disorders, major depression, or even temporary adaptive responses to chronic stress. Broadly speaking, it refers to a reduced or lost ability to experience or express emotions, whether as an unconscious defense mechanism or as a symptom of a greater disorder.
In high-stress emotional contexts—such as repeated traumatic experiences (war, loss, betrayal, guilt, excessive responsibility)—the nervous system can enter a prolonged state of hypoactivation, meaning a general decrease in emotional, behavioral, and cognitive responses. This phenomenon is also known as emotional numbing.
Common Symptoms of Emotional Disconnection
Social and behavioral withdrawal: The individual avoids active interaction with their environment. In Lloyd's case, this is seen in his passive stance, scarce dialogue, and minimal group engagement.
Affective flattening: There is a visible reduction in emotional expression: few smiles, rare signs of distress or anger, even in situations that would typically provoke them. This matches Lloyd's attitude, as he rarely reacts emotionally during critical events.
Feelings of unreality or detachment from the environment (derealization): The world may feel distant or artificial. Narratively, this could be reflected in scenes where Lloyd silently watches events unfold, seemingly disconnected from his surroundings.
Disconnection from one’s own emotions (depersonalization): The individual may feel like they're acting automatically, without personal involvement. This could explain why Lloyd behaves mechanically in combat or lacks clear motivation.
Reduced motivation or initiative: Often, there is a loss of interest in previous activities or a lack of energy to act. In a setting like Ninjago, where characters are usually proactive, Lloyd’s passivity becomes even more striking.
Blocking or suppression of intense memories or mental processes: In individuals with traumatic experiences, the mind may suppress access to emotionally threatening content. In Lloyd’s case, this could explain the temporary absence of his visions.
Clinically, these symptoms align with conditions like PTSD, dissociative disorders, or even adaptive forms of depression. Lloyd’s training with Rontu gave him tools to manage his visions, so he may have learned to suppress them as a coping mechanism. However, such suppression can trigger an emotional rebound—an abrupt and intense resurgence of emotions or abilities—which could signal a major narrative turning point in the second half of the season or in future installments.
Application to His Visions and the Two Proposed Theories
Theory of emotional repression of visions: If Lloyd is in a dissociative state, it’s plausible that his visions—often emotionally intense (e.g., foreseeing death, betrayal, or failure)—have been unconsciously blocked. His training with Rontu gave him some control over these visions, and he may have “shut off” that channel as a form of self-protection. This aligns with clinical patterns observed in individuals who choose not to access unusual mental functions (in narrative terms) to preserve their mental stability.
_ _ _ _ _
Theory of resignation due to inevitability of visions: Another theory suggests Lloyd still has visions but no longer fights them. In battles such as those against Zeatrix or Thunderfang, he doesn’t use his usual combat style: instead of confronting, he dodges, retreats, and attacks from a distance. This behavior may reflect a resignation to a fate he has already foreseen.
From a psychological perspective, this relates to the concept of learned helplessness (Seligman, 1975), where a person, after repeated failures to avoid a negative outcome, stops trying and adopts a passive stance. For Lloyd, this might be a form of emotional self-preservation: if resisting the vision changes nothing, perhaps it’s better not to resist. This narrative arc is powerful because it ties directly into his past development: Lloyd, who always rebelled against his lineage and tried to shape his own destiny, now seems to be surrendering to the weight of inevitability. This may be a direct consequence of the battle with Zeatrix, where he believed he had overcome his vision, only to see it come true anyway.
Professional Conclusion
Both interpretations are supported by legitimate psychological concepts. In one case, we see the effects of trauma as emotional dissociation; in the other, cognitive adaptation to a perceived inevitability. Both are plausible in characters exposed to constant stress, loss, the burden of responsibility, and supernatural abilities that carry a mental toll.
If this portrayal was intentional—which is likely—we are witnessing a characterization that realistically reflects real psychological processes, adding depth to Lloyd’s arc and opening new possibilities for future development.
639 notes · View notes
floorpancakes · 2 years ago
Text
tired asf but im this close to snapping and finally drawing watanuki as this
0 notes
lucenra · 19 days ago
Text
He Knew My Name
Tumblr media
𝓟airing ↳ Abby X F!Reader
𝓘𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 .. you finally gain the courage to talk to the most known guy on campus.
𝓦arnings .. no warnings !
𝓐uthor's note .. this is a college au (he would def be a frat boy)
Tumblr media
It was another day on campus, and for the first time ever, you were late.
The door creaked loudly as you slipped into the lecture hall — thirty-two minutes past the hour. A few heads turned, some with amusement, others with annoyance, but you didn’t really care. You scanned the room quickly and slid into the first empty seat you spotted, near the middle, hoping not to draw more attention than you already had.
You reached into your bag to grab your notebook and pen — and froze.
Of course. You’d left both in your dorm.
You let out a quiet sigh, already annoyed with yourself. Class was halfway over, and now you couldn’t even pretend to be productive. You glanced to your left, debating whether it was worth asking someone for help — and then your eyes landed on the person sitting next to you.
Abby.
Of course. Of all people.
He was one of the most recognizable faces on campus — always showing up in someone’s TikTok, always wearing that same silver chain, and always, always too pretty for his own good. People whispered about him like he wasn’t real. Girls giggled when he passed. Professors somehow always let him slide with late work. He had that calm, cocky energy, like he knew he didn’t have to try too hard.
And now, he was seated right next to you, calmly taking notes with perfect posture and a watch you were pretty sure cost more than your tuition deposit.
You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. But not for long.
“Hey,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.
He turned toward you, meeting your eyes, and up close, he was even more unreal. Sharp jawline, dark brown eyes, slightly messy pink hair, and an unreadable expression like he wasn’t used to being approached without a purpose.
“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” you asked.
Abby blinked once, then reached into his bag without saying a word. He pulled out a sleek black pen— probably some unnecessarily expensive kind, and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours lightly. Just for a second.
“Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly very aware of the limited space between you.
“No problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, before turning back to his notes.
You grabbed a random flyer from your bag to write on, pretending not to be hyper-aware of the fact that Abby just lent you his pen.
You felt his eyes on you once or twice after that. Not in a weird way. Just… curious.
And somehow, even with no notebook, no pen of your own, and no idea what the professor was going on about, the rest of the class didn’t feel like such a disaster anymore.
After class, you made your way to the library to meet up with your best friend, Zoey. You spotted her at a long table near the back, headphones on, completely locked into study mode.
You crept up behind her.
“Boo.”
She jumped and yanked off her headphones. “Oh my—! You scared me!” she laughed, turning to face you.
You dropped your bag onto the chair next to hers and sat down, grinning. “Okay. You will not believe who I just had an interaction with.”
Zoey’s eyes lit up instantly. “Who, who, who?? Tell me right now.”
“Abby. As in the Abby. Abbs.”
She practically squealed, loud enough that a few people looked over. You threw your hand up quickly.
“Shh! We’re in a library, girl,” you whispered with a smile.
Zoey clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. But ohmygosh, he’s so hot.”
You leaned in, voice low. “Right? And get this— I forgot all my stuff, and he gave me his pen. Like, actually handed it to me.”
Zoey gasped. “Wait, handed it to you with eye contact, or like… tossed it in your direction?”
“Eye contact,” you confirmed with a nod. “And his fingers brushed mine. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it honestly felt like a scene out of a movie.”
Zoey dropped her head against the back of her chair in mock shock. “You’re living my fantasy. I’ve never even been in the same row as him.”
“Yeah, well,” you said, trying to sound chill, “he definitely knows I exist now.”
Zoey leaned closer, her expression serious in that overly dramatic Zoey way. “So what’s the plan? Are you gonna say hi next time? Make small talk? Seduce him with your perfectly winged eyeliner?”
You laughed. “I mean, I want to… but what if he just thinks I’m another girl trying to get his attention? He probably deals with that every day.”
“Okay, first of all? You’re not just another girl. You’re you. And second, he gave you his pen. That’s, like, sacred college bonding.”
You smiled despite yourself.
Zoey suddenly perked up. “Okay, forget the pen. Forget the tension. I have even bigger news.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger than Abby’s hand brushing mine?”
She nodded, eyes wide. “Beach. Party. Tonight.”
You blinked. “What beach?”
“Haeundae Beach,” she said like it was common knowledge. “Apparently someone on the swim team’s cousin is throwing it. Bonfire, drinks, music — the whole scene.”
You gave her a skeptical look. “You know I don’t do sand like that.”
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “You’ll survive. And it’s not just any party, everyone is going. Even Mira and Rumi said yes.”
You laughed. “Okay, but are we talking chill bonfire vibes or full blackout-regrets-in-the-morning energy?”
“Both,” she grinned. “But like, aesthetic regrets. Trust me. We’re going. I already picked your outfit.”
You groaned but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you love it.”
The sun had just started to set when you and Zoey arrived at the beach. The sky was streaked with warm shades of orange and pink, and the breeze off the ocean felt cool against your skin. Somewhere in the distance, music thumped, heavy bass mixing with waves crashing against the shore.
Groups of people were already gathered around the fire. Some were dancing barefoot in the sand, others were lounging on blankets with drinks in hand. Someone had strung fairy lights between two wooden poles, casting a soft golden glow over everything.
“This is actually kind of… nice,” you admitted, pulling the sleeves of your oversized tee down past your hands.
“Told you,” Zoey said proudly. “Vibes? Immaculate.”
You were about to agree when your gaze shifted across the crowd… and your heart dropped into your stomach.
There, leaning casually against a log by the fire, red cup in hand — was Abby.
Same smirk. Same chain. Same energy like he didn’t have to try to be the center of attention — he just was.
Zoey followed your gaze and gasped. “No. Freaking. Way.”
“Did you know he was going to be here?” you whispered, eyes still locked on him.
“No! I swear! But… okay, maybe this really is fate.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Don’t start.”
She grinned, nudging your side. “Start what? I’m just saying… the beach is magical. He’s here. You look hot. And maybe… tonight’s not about borrowed pens anymore.”
You glanced back at Abby — and this time, he looked up.
Right at you.
And smiled.
406 notes · View notes
lexiputellas · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Car Kiss
The moment your car collides with his, two things hit you harder than the airbag that just exploded in your face:
1. This was absolutely not your fault. (Technically.)
2. You did not deserve this.
For a second, everything is still. Your hands are locked around the wheel, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The scent of burnt fabric and chemicals fills the car, the deployed airbag sagging pathetically in your lap like it just gave up on life.
Then—
"Are you fucking serious right now?!"
A voice—loud, pissed, and very much alive—cuts through your haze.
Your pulse stumbles.
Right. The other driver.
Slowly, stiffly, you peel your fingers off the wheel, every nerve in your body still humming with leftover adrenaline. The heat outside is relentless, pressing against the windshield, turning the inside of the car into an oven. Your skin feels sticky, your dress clinging uncomfortably as you try to process the disaster you just walked into.
You force yourself to move. The door groans as you push it open, and the second you step out, the sun slams into you like it's personally offended by your existence.
The man standing by the other car is fuming.
He's tall, broad, dressed in a crisp white button-down that’s now slightly wrinkled—probably from the sheer force of his frustration. His tie is loosened, his hands are on his head, and his expression is pure disbelief.
"You weren’t even looking!" he accuses, waving a hand toward the wreckage like it’s some kind of crime scene.
You inhale slowly, adjusting your sunglasses, trying to summon even a shred of calm. "Okay, first of all—let’s not jump to accusations."
His nostrils flare. "Look. At. My. Car."
You do.
And—okay. Yeah. It’s… seen better days. The bumper is hanging on by a miracle, the front crumpled in like a crushed soda can.
Then you turn to Alexia’s car.
And feel actual fear for the first time.
The front end looks exhausted. Like it’s seen things and would like to never be perceived again. The airbag is fully deployed, slumped over the steering wheel in silent, tragic judgment. The scent of burnt chemicals still lingers in the air.
You swallow hard. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home today.
"Are you even listening?!" the guy snaps, dragging a hand down his face. "You literally just crashed into me, and you’re acting like—"
"Okay, I hear you," you interrupt, forcing a smile. "I do. But, like… have you ever tried deep breathing? It’s amazing for stressful situations."
His eye twitches. "We're calling insurance."
You're already pulling out your phone. "Great idea!"
Of course, you’re not calling insurance.
You're calling her.
Alexia picks up after two rings.
"Bebé” Her voice is soft, familiar, but there’s an edge to it—like she already knows.
You hesitate.
The airbag. The crumpled hood. The fact that this isn’t even your car.
"Before I say anything," you start, voice syrupy sweet, "just know that I love you."
Silence.
Then—
"What did you do?"
You glance at the guy, who is still pacing beside his ruined car, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like legal threats.
You wince. "Hypothetically speaking, if something happened to your car—"
The silence sharpens.
"—not saying it did, but if it had a little accident—"
"Define ‘little.’"
You peek back at the scene. The wreckage. The airbag’s limp, tragic existence. The guy still looking like he’s one second away from suing you for emotional distress.
"Like… a kiss. A car kiss. Just a very unfortunate, high-speed one."
"You said you needed my car for work."
"I did. And I used it so responsibly. Except for this… one tiny—okay, medium—moment."
She exhales, long and sharp. "Is it bad?"
You hesitate. "...Define bad?"
"Is it drivable?"
"Technically."
"Is anything hanging off?"
"...Define ‘hanging.’"
"You’re actually unreal."
"It’s mostly cosmetic!" you argue. "Like, it still looks like a car! Just… also like it needs a nap. And a therapist."
"Where are you?"
"Outside work. I just parked. But the guy’s yelling about insurance and—wait, hold on—" You lower the phone. "Sir, are we exchanging info, or are you just gonna keep pacing?"
He glares. "Someone’s paying for this."
You sigh, lifting the phone back. "Ale, babe. Help."
"Send me a picture."
"...Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather hear about it first?"
"Now."
The call ends.
You groan and snap a photo of the wreckage. Then, because you’re already in deep shit, you send another one.
Of your boobs—one of the many emergency nudes you keep saved, because honestly, who doesn’t have a backup plan?
Her reply is immediate.
Alexia:
You are actually deranged.
A few more seconds. Then—
Alexia:
I’m leaving training. Stay there.
Uh-oh.
Fifteen minutes later, an SUV pulls up fast.
Too fast.
The tires bite into the pavement, rolling to a sharp, precise stop. The door swings open, and she steps out.
And suddenly, the heat of the sun feels second to the way she carries herself.
Alexia looks dangerous in the way only someone completely in control can. She’s still in her training gear—dark compression shorts hugging her legs, a fitted Barça tee damp with sweat. Her hair is tied back, loose strands framing her face in a way that should not look as good as it does. She shuts the car door with purpose, her sharp gaze sweeping the scene like she’s assessing an opponent.
First, the damage.
Then, the guy.
Then, you.
You smile delicately, clasping your hands together like the very picture of innocence. "Hi, my love."
"Are you hurt?"
The question takes you by surprise.
You blink. "Huh?"
Her eyes soften—just barely. "Are you hurt?" she repeats.
Your stomach does something weird.
You clear your throat. "No. Just—bruised ego."
She nods once, accepting that, before turning to the guy.
"We’ll handle this through insurance," she states, her tone cool, absolute.
The guy, who had previously been full of righteous anger, suddenly looks… uncertain. "Well, yeah, obviously, but—"
"Give me your details," she cuts in, leaving zero room for argument. "The tow truck is already on its way. We’ll handle the paperwork."
You glance at your phone, realizing you missed the call she must’ve made while driving.
The guy hesitates, then sighs in defeat. "Fine."
Alexia doesn’t waste another second. She turns to you, jaw tight. "Passenger seat."
You hesitate. "I can explai—"
"Passenger. Seat."
Your stomach flips.
Something about the way she says it—calm, but final—sends a thrill through you. You don’t argue this time.
The tow truck arrives as you settle in, the driver stepping out and immediately greeting Alexia with a handshake. She’s already handling it, already making the process smooth, efficient. You watch her through the windshield, chin propped on your hand.
Eventually, she gets back in. Silence settles between you as she pulls onto the road. It lingers for a while, heavy with everything that just happened.
Inside the car, you watch her, awed despite yourself. The way she carries herself. The way people listen to her. Honestly, kind of hot for someone who’s about to yell at you.
You reach over, fingers brushing against hers on the console. Her grip loosens slightly.
"You're mad," you murmur.
She exhales through her nose. "You sent me nudes after crashing my car."
You grin. "Did it help?"
Her lips twitch—just slightly. "You're impossible."
You smile. "But you’re not mad about the boobs, right?" A pause. Then, carefully—
"You crash my car and send me nudes." She shakes her head, half in disbelief, half in something else you can’t quite place. "Honestly. Who raised you?"
You shrug. "A woman with taste."
A pause. Then, carefully—
"Your driving privileges are suspended."
You gasp. "You can’t do that."
"Watch me."
"Babe. My freedom."
She glances over, lips twitching. "I’ll think about it."
You grin, leaning in, voice low, teasing. "I can be very persuasive."
She hums, eyes still on the road but amusement curling at the edges of her mouth.
743 notes · View notes
paxaz535 · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
CONTROL (4)
reader x nika x paige x azzi
azzi and paige’s turn to get manhandled
Tumblr media
It was organized chaos.
Cameras being set up, makeup artists bustling around with powder brushes and blotting sheets, stylists fixing jersey collars and touching up edge control. The lighting rigs were hot, the hallways buzzed with chatter, and CD was somewhere yelling about timing and media windows.
You stood against a backdrop with Azzi, both of you in full uniform, arms crossed and flashing the same easy grin for the camera. She leaned close when the shutter clicked, whispering something about how good your ass looked in the shorts. You stepped on her foot—lightly. She grinned wider.
A few shots later, you were all shuffled toward the interview room.
It was simple: each player would sit down, one at a time, and answer questions for a “behind-the-scenes” segment UConn’s media team was shooting for fans. Just fun little stuff.
But with how tense everything had been lately—tense in the wettest, filthiest, horniest way imaginable—this was a test of pure will.
First up: Paige.
She sat in the chair, looking effortlessly calm. A media guy clipped a mic to her jersey.
“So, Paige. How’s the team chemistry this year?”
She smirked. “Unreal. Like… maybe the best it’s ever been.”
“Anyone you’ve grown closest to?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Azzi. She’s my person.”
You saw Azzi bite her lip off to the side.
Paige added, “But, like, in a teammate way of course.”
The media guy chuckled. “Sure.”
Next up: Nika.
Nika slouched in the chair, arms draped over her thighs, her expression unreadable behind sleepy eyes.
“Nika, describe the vibe on this year’s roster in one word.”
She thought for a second. “Dangerous.”
“Why?”
She grinned. “Because we all got something to prove. And some of us are…” She glanced toward you, slow and heated. “A little extra competitive.”
“Is there a player who pushes you the most?”
She licked her lips. “Yeah. [Your name]. We’re always trying to outdo each other. It’s fun.”
You flushed. Paige raised a brow.
Then came Azzi.
She sat with perfect posture, hands in her lap, that sweet smile she always had on during media days.
“Azzi, what’s been your favorite part of this season so far?”
Her eyes flicked toward the group watching.
“Late nights. On the road. We’ve had some good bonding.”
“Any teammates you’ve bonded with most?”
She smiled like butter wouldn’t melt. “Honestly? [Your name], Paige and Nika. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
The interviewer nodded, writing something on his clipboard.
“Off the court?” he asked.
Azzi blinked. “Yeah. Especially off the court.”
Your turn.
They called you up last.
You sat down, adjusting the mic on your jersey, trying not to think about all the eyes on you—especially the three pairs currently boring into your soul.
“Okay,” the interviewer smiled. “First question. Who’s the biggest flirt on the team?”
You almost choked. “Um…”
He waited.
“…Probably Nika,” you admitted. “But like… it’s not really flirting if it’s mutual, right?”
You heard Nika laugh off-camera.
“Interesting,” he said. “And who’s most likely to get you in trouble?”
You paused, smiling. “That’d be Paige. No hesitation.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t deny it.
“And Azzi?”
You looked at her—then down at your lap, biting your smile.
“She’s the one who makes it worth the trouble.”
Azzi’s cheeks turned pink.
The media guy blinked. “Okay. This is… good content.”
“Glad to help,” you said sweetly.
He wrapped it up with a few general questions, but by the time you were unhooked from the mic and walking off set, all three girls were already waiting for you.
Nika leaned into your ear. “I liked what you said about me.”
Azzi brushed her hand against yours. “Was that a compliment?”
Paige just looked you up and down. “You’re lucky we’re still on camera.”
You licked your lips. Gosh, you loved them so much.
-
The restaurant was dimly lit, buzzing with quiet chatter and the occasional clink of silverware. The four of you sat at a tucked-away corner table, plates half-finished and drinks slowly drained. Paige was leaned back in her chair, one arm slung over Azzi’s, while Nika’s hand rested lazily on your thigh beneath the table. Everything felt relaxed. Too relaxed.
Until she showed up.
A girl, maybe early twenties, clearly not from the team. She hesitated for a second by the hostess stand before making a beeline straight to your table. Tall, cute, clearly excited. But her eyes were only on Azzi.
“Hi, oh my God—sorry to interrupt,” the girl said breathlessly, already pulling her phone from her back pocket. “Are you Azzi Fudd?”
Azzi blinked. You felt Paige’s hand twitch against the table.
“Uh, yeah,” Azzi said, trying to be polite.
“I just—I’m such a huge fan. Seriously. You’re amazing. Do you mind if we take a quick picture?”
You watched as Azzi smiled—genuine, a little shy—and nodded. “Of course, that’s fine.”
The girl moved to Azzi’s side, standing a little too close. Her hip pressed against Azzi’s arm as she leaned in. “You’re even prettier in person,” she said, low like it wasn’t meant to be heard.
It was meant to be heard.
Your jaw ticked. Paige sat forward. Nika’s hand on your thigh clenched.
“Smile!” the girl chirped, snapping the photo.
You didn’t smile. Paige didn’t blink. Nika licked her bottom lip, visibly annoyed.
The girl didn’t even acknowledge the rest of you. Didn’t thank Azzi before walking away, phone already open to scroll through the photo she’d just taken.
Azzi sat back down, a little stunned. “Well… that was something.”
You leaned in slightly. “She didn’t even look at the rest of us.”
“She flirted,” Paige muttered, murder in her voice. “Right in front of us.”
“She touched your girl,” Nika added, her eyes still on Azzi. “That’s crazy.”
Azzi tried to laugh it off, but it was awkward now. Tense.
“I didn’t do anything,” she defended lightly, her eyes wide.
“You didn’t stop her either,” Paige said, not looking at her.
You tilted your head. “You liked the attention a little too much, huh?”
Azzi’s brows raised. “Wait, are y’all seriously mad?”
Nika leaned in close, her voice low and dangerous. “We’re not mad, baby.”
Paige smirked. “We’re going to show you what happens when someone thinks they can touch what’s ours.”
Your stomach flipped. Azzi visibly swallowed.
And she knew.
She was in for it tonight.
-
That night, back at the hotel, Azzi was the first to be pinned.
Literally.
You had her wrists bound to the headboard with Nika’s hoodie. Paige was between her legs, teasing the strap over her soaked folds but not giving her anything. Nika sat at her side, brushing her fingers down her ribs, her voice low and taunting.
“Oh, but she was just a fan, right?” Nika murmured, licking a stripe up Azzi’s neck. “Did she get you this wet?”
“She—she didn’t—” Azzi stammered, hips twitching up toward Paige’s hand.
You leaned over, close to her face, voice teasing but with an edge of control. “She touched you like she could take you from us. That pisses me off, Az.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Azzi breathed.
“Exactly,” Paige added. “You let her.”
And then Paige slammed her hips forward, burying the strap in deep, and Azzi cried out, fingers curling against the sleeves tied around her wrists. She was already close, and you could tell. Nika could too—she reached between them, pressing a small bullet vibe right against Azzi’s clit.
You leaned back, watching her unravel.
“Let’s see how many times she can come before she remembers who she belongs to,” you said softly.
Azzi was shaking after the third orgasm. Legs trembling, stomach clenching, her voice broken and ragged.
“Please—please, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
But none of you stopped.
Paige thrust deeper. You flicked the bullet up to its highest setting. Nika kissed her mouth open and sloppy.
Azzi screamed as she came again—harder this time, squirting all over Paige’s stomach and the sheets below her.
You were relentless. No one said stop.
“You like this don’t you, baby?” You asked her as her legs shook. She nodded viscously, her face filled with pleasure. “Let me fuck her, P.” Nika spoke as she waited for Paige to take off the strap.
Paige pulled out, making Azzi whimper from the loss of contact and watched as Nika pulled it over her. The brunette held eye contacts with Azzi, watching her bite her lip in enjoyment.
“Let’s see if you can squirt for me, pretty.” Azzi moaned at the words, her legs spreading even wider. You chuckled, “Oh she loves this shit.”
Paige looked at you with a smirk, before bending down and kissing Azzi on her lips. Nika slipped it in and Azzi’s moan was muffled by Paige’s mouth. You were lying down next to Azzi, pinching her nipples.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” Nika moaned as she grabbed onto her hips and pounded into her. “Mmm— shit!” Azzi moaned as she put her hand on Nika’s stomach.
Nika quickly slapped it away, “Stop running, take it.” Azzi squealed, tears sprinkling down her face. “It’s so fucking big— fuck!”
“Yeah?” Paige asked as she rubbed Azzi clit. The curly head nodded, eyes rolling back as Nika continued to pound in her.
You put your hand on Azzi’s lower stomach and felt the strap, eyes widening. “I can feel it, she’s deep.” Azzi screamed, the pressure making it feel even better.
“Fuck, i’m gonna come—“
“Let it out baby, make a mess on Nika.” Paige spoke in her ear as she continued to rub Azzi.
Azzi legs shook, her back arching off the bed. “Mhmm— okay! okay—“
Nika pulled out as she seen Azzi’s stream of wetness squirt onto her stomach, her grin on her face. “Shit, that was hot.”
By the time you all stopped, Azzi was boneless. Red-faced, soaked, hair stuck to her forehead. Her thighs still spasming every time you touched her.
Nika smirked. “Still thinking about your little fan?”
Azzi didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her mouth opened but no sound came.
You kissed her gently then. “Next time, say no to strangers.”
-
It was finally time to head back, and you were excited to return to the comfort of your own home. You missed your bed, your kitchen, your couch. The hotel had been fun—really fun—but you were more than ready to leave.
“Dang, I feel bad for whoever gets this room next,” Paige teased as she zipped up her suitcase.
You snorted, already knowing what she meant.
“They should be happy,” Nika chimed in from behind you, her big, soft hands gripping your thighs as you sat contentedly in her lap. Her fingers slid along the inside of your legs, a lazy rhythm that made your body ache. “We’ve blessed this room with our presence.”
Azzi walked out of the bathroom holding a Ziploc of her toiletries. “I feel bad for housekeeping. Look what I did last night.” She pointed down at the carpet, where a very obvious dark patch sat near the edge of the bed.
Everyone glanced at it.
“Ha, I was the cause of that,” Nika said smugly, licking her lips.
Azzi rolled her eyes, not even entertaining it.
“Actually that was me, twin. Let’s not,” Paige challenged as she crossed her arms.
Nika didn’t respond—just hit her with a flat, “Shhh,” and continued rubbing your thighs. She already knew better than to go back and forth with Paige when it came to competition. That battle never ended.
Paige laughed and flopped back onto the bed, legs spread wide, hands behind her head like she owned the place.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
“Y’all think we can get one more in before it’s time to go?”
Everyone turned to you.
You blinked at them innocently, trying to hide your grin.
Paige sat up immediately. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The ride back had been calm. Sleepy. Paige drove. Azzi dozed in the back with her head on your shoulder, and Nika rested her chin in your lap. Everyone was tired, but satisfied. You didn’t end up going again at the hotel—time got tight, someone forgot to charge the toy—but you’d promised to make it up later.
That night, one of the players hosted a casual postgame party in her apartment. Just a few drinks, good music, and people standing around in crop tops and tight sweats, showing off abs like it was nothing. You stuck close to your group, mostly tucked between Azzi and Nika while Paige leaned on the counter, beer in hand.
That’s when it happened.
She came out of nowhere—a girl from the opposing team, tall, beautiful, and clearly tipsy. She walked right up to Paige and didn’t hesitate. Ran her eyes down Paige’s arms, then her legs. Laid a hand gently on her bicep.
“Damn,” the girl said. “If I were your girl, I’d never let you leave the house in those shorts.”
You froze.
Nika looked up slowly, one brow raised. Azzi’s head tilted, a dangerous kind of smile blooming on her lips.
Paige laughed. Cool and smug. “You tryna start a fight or somethin’?”
The girl just winked. “Nah. Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
You caught the look on Paige’s face. Amused. Proud of herself. That little grin like she knew she could get attention if she wanted.
Oh, hell no.
No one said a word on the ride over. Paige drove again—still smug. Nika sat with her arms folded. Azzi had your hand in hers, her jaw tight.
The moment the front door shut behind you, it changed.
“Bedroom,” you said flatly.
Paige turned. “Damn, y’all mad?”
You didn’t answer. Just walked past her. “Get on the bed.”
She blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
Nika stepped in then, low and sharp. “You think you’re cute, huh?”
Azzi pushed Paige by the chest, guiding her toward the bed. “You think we’re just gonna let that shit slide?”
“What?” Paige laughed, sitting back on the edge. “It’s not my fault she wanted a piece—”
You grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes on you. “And do you want a piece of her?”
Her breath hitched. Just slightly.
“No,” she said.
You leaned closer, face inches from hers. “Good. Because you belong to us. And tonight? We’re gonna remind you exactly who the fuck you belong to.”
Clothes came off fast. You took her top and tossed it aside. Nika peeled down her shorts. Azzi leaned in, mouth hot at Paige’s neck.
Paige tried to smirk through it. Still cocky. Still teasing.
Until you pushed her back flat and climbed on top.
She inhaled sharply when she felt the press of your strap—already harnessed, already slick with lube.
“Oh, shit—”
“No talking,” you warned.
You kissed her hard. Bruising. Nika straddled her arms, pinning them above her head while Azzi sat on her stomach, grinning.
“You’re not gonna be smirking much longer,” Azzi murmured.
You pushed in slowly. Inch by inch.
Paige moaned, legs twitching under you.
“Oh my god—”
Nika covered her mouth. “Did we say you could speak?”
Her hips bucked.
You dragged out the first few thrusts. Deep. Cruel. Paige was already writhing by the time you hit your rhythm, sweat gathering at her temples.
Azzi leaned down and bit her collarbone, then whispered, “Was she hotter than me?”
“No—fuck—”
Smack.
Nika slapped her thigh. “Wrong answer.”
You started fucking her harder. Deep, relentless strokes that made her eyes roll back. She looked wrecked already—but you weren’t close to done.
You pulled out.
Paige gasped for air, only for Nika to climb down and wedge a vibrator between her thighs. You locked it in place with a strap, then handed the remote to Azzi.
“Edge her.”
“Gladly.”
You didn’t even let Paige adjust before you were sitting on her chest, your strap brushing her lips.
She opened without being told. Of course she did.
“Such a good little slut when she’s put in her place,” Nika muttered as she watched her girlfriend choke on you.
Paige’s legs were shaking already. Azzi clicked the vibe up to max, then back down, then up again—laughing every time Paige tried to lift her hips.
Eventually she stopped fighting. Eyes glazed, mouth full, hands trembling as Nika held them still.
You pulled out of her mouth and stood back, admiring the mess. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed. Her thighs were soaked with vibration.
“Ready to come?”
She nodded frantically.
“No.”
You clicked the remote off entirely.
She wailed. Actually wailed.
“You shouldn’t have smiled at her like that,” Azzi whispered, crawling between her legs.
“I’m—sorry—”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
-
Paige was shaking by the time you turned the vibrator off.
Her legs kicked out weakly, desperate for friction, for relief, for anything.
“I’m—fuck, I’m sorry—” she gasped.
You knelt at the edge of the bed, gripping her jaw.
Behind you, Azzi was already sliding down her body, slow and deliberate, like a predator about to feast. Her fingers gripped Paige’s thighs, prying them open, and her voice was calm. “You know better than to act like that.”
Paige tried to nod, tried to say something else, but then Azzi’s mouth was on her.
Full tongue, no mercy.
The sound Paige let out was somewhere between a moan and a sob. Her back arched, arms still pinned by Nika, who leaned over her face now, grinning down at her.
“Aw, look at you,” Nika cooed, brushing Paige’s sweaty curls back. “Little miss cocky can’t even keep her legs still.”
You watched Azzi work, biting your lip. Her rhythm was devastating—slow enough to tease, deep enough to torture. Paige’s thighs trembled with every pass of Azzi’s tongue, her hands twitching uselessly against Nika’s grip.
You climbed back onto the bed, straddling Paige’s hips. Reached down and gently circled her clit with your thumb.
She screamed.
“Too much—fuck—don’t—”
“Yes you do,” you whispered. “You can take it.”
“No—I can’t—”
You leaned closer, letting your strap drag over her stomach while Azzi moaned into her cunt. “You don’t get to decide. Not tonight.”
Paige was crying now. Not out of pain—out of sheer desperation. Her whole body was twitching, every muscle tight. She was so close she could barely breathe, and still, you didn’t let up.
Nika kissed her jaw sweetly. “You look so pretty like this.”
You pulled your thumb away and sat back. “Azzi. Stop.”
Azzi pulled off slowly, face glistening, lips slick. “She’s right there,” she warned, almost breathless herself.
“I know.” You reached for the remote and clicked the vibrator back on, holding it there until Paige was screaming again. “Let her feel it.”
Paige thrashed, completely undone.
“Fuck—please—please, I’ll be good—”
You tilted your head. “Say you’re ours.”
“I—I am—”
Nika tightened her grip on her arms. “Louder.”
“I’m yours—fuck—I’m yours, all of you, please—”
You let her come.
Not softly. Not gradually. You slammed her into it—Azzi back on her clit, you circling the toy harder, Nika kissing her neck as Paige shattered under all three of you.
She didn’t just cry—she sobbed through it. Her orgasm hit so hard her legs locked up, then buckled completely. She squirmed, begged, moaned, then finally went limp.
For a second, there was nothing but the sound of her breathing. Ragged. Spent.
Then you reached for her again.
She whimpered. “No—please—too much—”
“Mm-mm,” you murmured as you pulled her onto your lap. “Not even close.”
This time, she was on all fours, arms shaking. Azzi and Nika knelt at her sides, whispering to her, stroking her back. You lined up behind her, dragging the strap through her slick folds before pushing back in.
She howled.
You fucked her deep. Rhythmic. Slow. Every thrust made her cry out, her hips twitching helplessly as her body lit up with oversensitive nerves.
“Such a good girl now,” Azzi whispered, stroking Paige’s curls.
“Think she learned her lesson?” Nika asked.
You slammed into her hard enough to knock her forward.
“She’s learning.”
Her voice was cracked now, nearly gone. “I’m—I’m sorry—m’sorry—”
You didn’t stop.
You kept going until she collapsed. Until she couldn’t hold herself up. Until her knees slid out from under her and she sank into the mattress, your strap still deep inside.
Only then did you pull out.
Only then did the others release her wrists, stroke her spine, kiss her gently.
Azzi curled up beside her, brushing sweaty hair from her face. “Still think she was hotter than me?”
Paige gave the tiniest shake of her head.
“Didn’t think so.”
You wrapped her in blankets and laid her between the three of you.
She couldn’t speak. Just blinked slowly, breath steady but spent.
Nika kissed her temple. Azzi rubbed her arm. You laid a hand on her chest.
“We’ve got you,” you whispered.
She managed a tiny smile.
“…still the hottest one here, though.”
All three of you groaned at once.
“You must want some more.”
“Ding, ding, ding.”
249 notes · View notes
tragedy-of-commons · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
HOMECOMING.
── dan heng x gn!reader
summary: Your boyfriend invites you to spend Christmas break with him and his eccentric (but lovable all the same) family. You oblige.
contains: modern and university au, established relationship, comedy and tooth-rotting fluff, christmas shopping, the astral express fam all make appearances (pre-2.7), setting is very american-inspired (sorry), cringefail exuberant reader, one hurt/comfort scene
word count: 11.4k oops
taglist: @singularity-sam, @mitsvriii, @tetrachrxmacy, @bladism, @mikashisus
notes: for @azuresaqua, written for the @/stellaronhvnters secret santa 🎄 this took all month, but i hope you like it crys!! also this totally looks fine on dark mode. if you think otherwise then ummm SHHH. dividers by @/cafekitsune!
Tumblr media
Your phone blares with its usual grating ringtone, startling you out of your reverie.
Scrambling to pick the device up, you’re pleasantly surprised. So much so that you drop the sweatshirt in your free hand mid-fold. The caller ID reads Dan Heng, lighting up your homescreen with his contact icon.
A warmth buzzes in your chest as you look it over, a giggle erupting from your throat. The selfie is of you and him, with Dan Heng looking particularly spacey in the midst of the bustling street.
You’re now considerably less bored. You’ve been looking for an excuse to procrastinate doing your laundry all day, and it just so happens to entail talking with your lovely partner. Not waiting any longer, you clear your throat, tap the green accept button, and press the speaker to your ear.
“Hi, darling!” you chirp, shifting to sit more comfortably, “I miss you. How’re you holding up? Still in the library studying the day away?”
The other line crackles with life. “Hello. I feel the same,” Dan Heng informs you matter-of-factly, his cadence clear as a river. “And no, I’m not there anymore. It was… too crowded for my liking.”
That’s no surprise. Finals are upon the whole campus in a few days, and it shows. There is a distinct, depressing atmospheric pressure that weighs upon your fellow students. 
The scourge of exams, the final boss of the semester, the enemy of mental fortitude and peace. Though Dan Heng loves your university’s expansive library, you can imagine he’d be less enthralled when a hundred tired young adults are populating it to cram.
“Yeah, I can imagine,” you wince. “Well, look on the bright side. We’re almost done, yeah? Soon enough, the library will be solely your domain once again, and you can be a doll and skim the archives in my stead.”
His voice takes on a sarcastic lilt, affection hidden underneath the words like a hard-won reward. You think it’s an indulgence for him. “If my memory serves correctly, I had to smooth things over with the librarian on your behalf. I don’t think it’s a wise idea for you to loiter there any longer, as energetic as you are.”
How cheeky! Honestly, you’re not even that loud. Sometimes you laugh a little too hard at benign things (like the way some book titles sound out of context), or react too vibrantly at the wrong times (like exclaiming profanities after tripping over your own feet), but those aren’t crimes.
Even now, ruminating over this reasoning, you still don't understand how you got banned from the library. Unreal.
“Hey, come on now! I don’t even loiter… I just want to spend time with you, even if studying isn’t something I burden myself with. That guy has it out for me,” you insist, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. “Anyway, I’m not saying this to be rude, but…”
“But?” Dan Heng asks cautiously.
“You normally don’t call first. Is everything okay?”
You mean it when you ask. Though you love your boyfriend, he isn’t the best at initiating longform communication. Sometimes you’ll get a text with a link to a video he found interesting, or he’ll update you with life (mostly just classes and endless papers), and then you’ll respond by quadruple-texting and then maybe calling him. For hours. And then asking to come over to his dorm. And then falling asleep with him. All at your request, which he doesn’t seem to mind.
That being said, it’s atypical that he takes up the mantle, which makes you worry. And if you worry, Dan Heng feels guilty. Trying not to be patronizing, you patiently wait for him to speak on his own terms, humming to yourself idly. You could, y’know, do your laundry, but you’re not gonna do that. Free will is so cool and awesome.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” he assures, words measured. “I just have something I’d like to run by you, but I didn’t want to interrupt if you were busy.”
“I’m never busy! Spill!” Extremely curious, you pluck your phone from your ear and put Dan Heng on speaker. While you’re at it, you also stand up and pace the short length from your bed to the door of your suite, clothes abandoned on the floor. 
“It’s about this winter break. We haven’t conferred on plans yet, but I was planning to ask you if you’d meet my… my family. Of course, it all depends on your availability - don’t feel too rushed to answer, I’d just like to know in advance so I can get things in order on my end.”
Woah, what just happened? You stop walking to think, gears spinning and grinding and pushing all sorts of implications. His family. 
Dan Heng has one, yes, he divulges details every once in a while and elaborates on his mishmash of a homelife when you ask, but you’ve never heard him refer to these mystical figures as family. They’ve always been referred to as my friend, followed by their name. You know them well, committing each to memory despite not having met them yet: March, Caelus, Welt, and Himeko. 
Of course, you pester your boyfriend about them. Nothing too invasive, just remembering the important details. Asking for updates about March’s creative ventures or inquiring if Himeko’s coffee has gotten any more palatable, to name a few. 
In turn, Dan Heng would make a comment about how they also pester him about you. It’s like a big game of telephone - this indirect communication is what you’re used to. It’s kind of surreal to think about actually meeting them after all this time.
Then the joy comes. He wants to share this part of his life with you. Is this the natural next step in your relationship, like all seasoned married couples fondly reflect back on? Dan Heng wants to spend three and half weeks with you, uninterrupted, at home. His home.
Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, grinning like an absolute fool. Does he really think you’ll say no? You’d already do anything to make him happy. Despite being several buildings and crosswalks away from him right now, your hearts feel impossibly close together.
(It’s not like you have anything else planned.)
That thought is pushed away as quickly as it comes. No time for you to be bitter when it’s the season of giving and all things cheerful! This opportunity is nothing short of a blessing… you’re saved from being cramped up inside the inevitably deserted hall for the entirety of break. You’re saved from having to admit to Dan Heng that I have nowhere to go and nothing to do like everyone else. 
Shock, joy, relief. 
“Oh my god,” you laugh, breathy. With a repressed-young-man-trained-ear, you catch a soft sigh of relief dissipating on the other line. “Yes, of course I want to meet them! Dude, this is so exciting! What if I died? What if I blew up the entirety of campus in my merriment? What then?”
He is far too used to your theatrics to react too strongly to them at this point. “...I wouldn’t put it past you. But I’m glad you said yes. There’s just the issue of details to work out.”
Dan Heng proposes different times on different days to leave. Well, he probably went more in depth than that - he likes to schedule and plan for the future, even if he doesn’t always stick to those self-imposed regulations in the end - probably droning on about the cost of gas or something. But you’re way too shell-shocked to respond coherently, muffling squeals and noncommittal hums that give away exactly how much you’re not paying attention.
Digesting about half of the information, you bring up what you have left to do before winter break after he does the same: registration for next semester’s classes, turning in textbooks for certain courses (thank the stars renting is affordable here), and the remaining days riddled with finals. 
Despite how daunting these tasks are for others, you find yourself enjoying the denouement. Guessing on scantrons has gotten you pretty far, and the other obligations can be swiftly eliminated through sheer will and lots of Christmas music. Your Spotify listening history must look like some kind of tinsel-festooned warzone.
This will be your first ever Christmas with Dan Heng. He’s never been extremely festive by any means, but you cajoled him into a matching Halloween costume a month ago, and he is fond of horror movies despite how silly they can be, offering little bits of trivia or his critiques on the film’s score. 
You think this holiday, spent at his home, in his hometown - will be the source of many happy memories. It’ll also, hopefully, be another endless source of teasing. 
Images flit through your mind, the most notable of which being your stoic boyfriend in a truly hideous red and green sweater. You snicker to yourself until your amusement is disturbed by Dan Heng promptly clearing his throat. 
He says your name in that soft way that makes you weak in the knees. You’re under his spell just as much as he is under yours. You should take to reminding him of that more often. “Just to be clear, is this alright with you?”
It’s so much more than alright, you think. Winter, for all of its bitter cold and unforgiving responsibilities, still teems with life as the leaves die. For every day you’ve spent alone during the last two Christmases, you’ll be repaid with one in kind spent with Dan Heng and the people he trusts most.
You’re blessed with the sweet thought that you’re now a part of those treasured, trustworthy few as well. 
You know you’ve been treasured for a long time, but feeling it actualized, solidified in action, is as homey and warm as a burning hearth.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am, darling. I’m so excited that I think I’m shaking!”
You tighten your grip on your phone, almost leaving indents in the shitty case, attempting to still your vibrating fingers. His response is a mumble along the lines of you should probably eat something, and I’m glad. Dan Heng can be a little awkward, especially over the phone, but that just speaks of his sincerity. He’s glad you’re coming. 
You scuttle over to the window beside your bed, yanking the blinds askew to peek outside. A glimpse of the first frost coating the student parking lot promises something more. Something magical and childlike.
Joy. You have a feeling you’re going to be extremely insufferable to any and all scrooges (people rightfully sick of dealing with your chipper attitude) in the coming days. Oh well, they can suck it up because it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and you’re in love with the most amazing person in the world. 
You tell him not to worry, which he sighs at, and then the brunt of the conversation is over. The following silence is calm but electric, dragging on for just the right amount of time. A well-deserved respite, you think. 
“I love you,” you confess.
“...I love you too. Touch base soon.”
With that, the call ends abruptly. Your cheeks feel hot and you’re reinvigorated, daydreaming of Dan Heng’s expressions obscured by distance - you want nothing more than to see him, but you know your partner well enough to realize when he needs a break; to realize when he needs his alone time. You would never begrudge him for it.
That was a fucking whirlwind.
You shove your phone in your pocket after nudging the blinds back in place. There’s so much to do, and you’re definitely gonna need another run-down of the schedule (preferably in person), but for now, you’ll let yourself be over the moon and overrun with task paralysis. 
Triumphantly, you turn to flip off your abandoned pile of laundry. Free will is so cool and awesome.
“We are so back!”
Tumblr media
You’re so impatient that you’ve started counting the hours.
The final stretch is a lot more boring than you thought it was going to be. Picking a time to check out of your dorm, fixing up any scuffs on the walls from your shitty posters before room inspection, actually passing your classes. The normal stuff. 
Both you and Dan Heng decided that you would leave at around three in the morning on the first day of break. It sounded bewildering at first, and you had levelled him with a look that made him hurriedly elaborate.
“In order to get there at a reasonable time, it’s the best way to go,” he’d said over coffee. “The drive isn’t more than a few hours, but if we leave right after routine inspection, we’d be arriving in the middle of the night.”
Though the mental image of showing up on a quaint little home’s doorstep in your pajamas and waking up the whole neighborhood with your knocking is funny, it’s not funny enough to quell your nerves. 
You’ve noticed, usually in the midst of trying to be productive, that the excitement is weighing heavily on your heart. Your hands are perpetually shaky, you’re sweating disgusting buckets, and you’re sure you look as if you’ve lost your marbles to any soul brave enough to strike up conversation.
That last part came to your attention when Bronya, your desk neighbor in your Interpersonal Communications class, dared ask you if she could borrow a pencil. She barely got the question out before she asked if you were alright. And if Bronya asks you if you’re alright, it means that you must look terrible. 
Sure enough, you are getting less and less sleep, and you’ve been prone to twitching. In retrospect, you probably had that wild look in your eye that screamed I am at rock bottom and it’s in the public’s best interest that I’m contained.
But you’re not at rock bottom! You’re just nervous, and it’s weird when you’re nervous, because such an occurrence is as rare as a blue moon. You’re going to be meeting Dan Heng’s family in a matter of days, and you’re expected to behave as a normal, functioning member of society. Unbelievable. Even the love of your life has noticed the difference in your behavior - he seems disturbed but respectful. 
You recall him asking if you were ill, which you had vehemently denied. Then he kissed you under the thin covers of his bed, and everything was fine for a moment.
But you think you’re feeling better on this day in particular. To distract yourself from the anxiety, you’ve sunk deeper into the holiday cheer. With Dan Heng at your side, you’ve blown off classes for the day to go gift shopping. The outlet mall near your university is always bustling, but during this time of year, you’d think there’s an overpopulation crisis wreaking havoc on your city.
Escalators are crammed with excited children dragging their parents along, there are decorations painstakingly put up in every nook and cranny, and you have a mission to see through.
“Thanks for ditching to help me out,” you preface. “It’d be way too difficult to shop for your family on my own. Just the idea of stress-buying things they may not even like… ugh. Also, wow! I realized you haven’t told me jack shit about them! I’m actually clueless.”
Dan Heng is not amused, but he doesn’t outright refute your assertion. “I suppose you have a point. And I didn’t ditch class,” he emphasizes, ears red. “Psychology got canceled.”
Here, among the sea of people, Dan Heng looks his least confident. While you, the person known for befriending every stray cat you meet, look your best.
The juxtaposition makes you feel fuzzy, and you know in your heart that he would've helped you anyway, even if he had class. He can be so obvious but so subtle at the same time. You tug on the sleeve of his sweatshirt once, purely affectionate. 
“Right. Uh, where do we start? Who’s the easiest to shop for?” you wonder aloud, crossing the stretches of marble and doing your best to peer down the massive store-lined strip. “We could start with March. She’s into crafty stuff, right?”
Your boyfriend tames a cowlick in his dark hair. “Yes. You seem to have a plan figured out already, but she uses up heaps of film while taking photos. An arts and crafts store would likely have the 600 type for her Polaroid. That’s what I had in mind in terms of a gift she’d appreciate.”
“We seem to be on the same page, but that just sounds so… impersonal! Bit of a safe choice, don’t you think? Let’s play it by ear and see what they have. I’m sure she’d also appreciate something handmade. I think I have enough time to DIY a gift; they probably have kits for all sorts of stuff.”
Dan Heng is starting off in the direction of the correct storefront. The display window is easily spotted, plastered with all kinds of paper mache ornaments. “You don’t need to fret. Knowing her, she’ll love anything that comes from you.”
You blink, grinning. “Really? Didn’t know I was so popular.”
“You have no idea,” sighs Dan Heng.
Warmly titled Make n’ Create, the door chimes, signifying your entry. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the smell of candles - a few hundred thousand, you hazard. 
Scents of vanilla and evergreen paired with cinnamon burn your nostrils as you survey the aisles of winding shelves overflowing with endless possibilities. Almost forgetting to return the greeting of the woman behind the counter, you snap out of your stupor and drag your boyfriend along.
Everything looks enticing… your savings account is telling you to be responsible, but your heart is telling you to snatch up and squirrel away any item of interest just in case. You wander the marble floor under the bright fluorescents, humming under your breath. “Hey, we can probably save some time and split up. Could you go look for the film? We’ll definitely get that along with whatever catches my eye.”
Relieved to have something to do, Dan Heng nods and disembarks from your side, perilously weaving between other shoppers buzzing with excitement. He mentioned that he deliberately put off Christmas shopping since you insisted on doing it together, the thought alone satisfying. 
The prospect of scrawling both of your names on the same box, passed off into eager hands. The words will read From: Dan Heng and his partner.
Rounding a corner, the pottery and ceramics section calls to you like a siren. There are stocks upon stocks of white, unpainted Christmas trees and wreaths, advertised as blank canvases to decorate as your own - paint included. Those are cute, but something relevant year-round would probably be received better. 
Impressions, impressions. Your gaze drops lower, dutifully searching…
Aha!
Ceramic jewelry dishes. Same gimmick as the trees and wreaths, but not necessarily seasonal. There are a few different types among the kits - heart-shaped, some with hinges that open and close, even some with music box elements with heftier price tags. 
Your intuition slaps you across the face multiple times. March will love one of these, you just know it! Cautious, you spare a shifty glance from left to right before squealing to yourself. The package in your hand is crisp and promising as you check over the price and instructions.
Dan Heng returns to witness your perfect find. You know this because you recognize the soft padding of his footsteps anywhere (which is not creepy). You turn to see him and the fond look in his eye - and the aforementioned packages of film he’s clutching. 
“Hey, you,” you chuckle. “You found it, great! Anyway, look what I stumbled upon. Do you think she’ll--” “Yes,” he breathes, suddenly decisive. “She will. Especially the heart one.”
Quickly heeding the ever-rare suggestion from Dan Heng, you discard the now inferior package and seize the heart-shaped one. “I trust your judgment. She has good taste, honestly. Thanks for your help, love, I appreciate it. I know for a fact she likes pink, and though my hands are a little clumsy… I’ll make a masterpiece outta this, trust me.”
He exhales through his nose. That’s a laugh if you’ve ever heard one. “You sound so resolute…”
“Duty-bound, if you will,” you grin. “We can move on to the next place if you’d like. Didn’t expect to be done here so fast.”
“...wait.”
You tilt your head, following his line of sight back to the shelves. He seems transfixed on something else there, and a few seconds go by in silence as you’re left to figure out what it is on your lonesome. 
Dan Heng has gotten better at speaking his mind - he was never bad at it, but sometimes words get tangled up in his reticent hesitation. You understand this well. So, you try to determine what’s caught his eye. The understanding you come to is a nice one. The lowest rung of the shelf, almost overshadowed, are more ceramics - no surprise there. But it feels like fate the way that they’re displayed; two sturdy coffee cups with intricate handles, then a miniature raccoon forever inlaid with a devilish expression, practically commanding a paintbrush to make its mischievous grin come to life with color. 
Himeko, Welt, Caelus.
You laugh, loud and bright, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand with a conspiratorial grin. “Four birds with one stone, huh? We’re gonna need a cart!”
Dan Heng is blushing. It’s subtle, not at all burning or obvious to any nosy bystanders, but it’s enough to make your heart sing with delight. You take it he’s glad that you picked up on his thoughts so wordlessly. 
He excuses himself after muttering something about going to get the cart while you smile like an idiot. A lovestruck idiot. A lovestruck idiot with a soon-to-be overdrawn bank account.
…well, not exactly. After you gather everything and go to check out, he insists on paying for all of it. You make sure to argue with him in front of the very amused cashier, reaching a compromise in no time at all thanks to your amazing negotiation skills. He’ll pay for this load (whatever), and you’ll pay for any remaining splurges today. It’s only natural you need to stop by a few more places, considering March has two gifts while the others only have one. 
By the time Dan Heng’s social battery is drained and yours is frayed, you have everything. An apparel outlet that you would’ve never stepped foot in normally now has your patronage; a golden brooch in the shape of a rose (that’s surprisingly affordable) for Himeko, a classy but patterned tie for Welt, and a trendy jacket for Caelus.
You think you’re the most jealous of that last one - it has many pockets and takes up enough space to suffocate a small orphan.
Hauling the bags into the icy parking lot, you suddenly stop in your tracks, feeling the generous weight of your spending in the process. “Hold on.”
Your tired but loving partner heeds your command. “What? Is something the matter?”
“We forgot to shop for each other,” you point out, sheepish and breathy. Seems you’ve both been so caught up in the tradewinds that you forgot. “Should we go back inside?”
“No,” he blurts, “I’ve already acquired your gift.”
Gobsmacked, you almost drop your share of the bags. He’s been holding out on you?! The surprise quickly fades into mushy limerence before it dulls. “Huh? When did you do that? Oh shit, I haven’t gotten you anything yet… dude, I’m sorry, I’ll head back inside, all secret mission-esque and find you something while you wait in the car--” 
Dan Heng shakes his head. “You… you don’t have to.”
The hell? Does he even know how Christmas works? “Of course I do, come on,” you push forward. Knowing you’ve already forgotten where you’ve parked, he strides out in front of you and leads the way, preparing to argue his case. “We’ll put these in the back, and I’ll find you an amazing gift, you’ll see.”
You both reach his little beat-up sedan (which you’ve aptly named Granny), while he fumbles for his keys. He sighs, rolling the frigid joints in his shoulders as he opens the driver’s seat to unlock the trunk. Setting the bags down on the gross pavement is unfortunately inevitable. You throw the thing open, already loading. 
Dan Heng’s rebuttal is almost startling.
“I don’t need an ‘amazing gift’. I have you.”
You freeze. Where did he pull that from? Are you hallucinating again? Is this like the time you stayed up for two days straight to half-ass a dozen unfinished assignments? Or maybe it’s selective hearing… such a line is probably from an old romcom that you’re mentally regurgitating and then projecting onto him.
But you don’t tease or ask him to repeat it. Instead, you choose to fully believe and embrace that compliment, warming your heart and your cheeks. His expression is obscured from your position, but he probably looks the same.
“I’m… really glad you think so, Dan Heng,” you almost whisper.
Before he can say anything else that’ll ruin the moment, you decide that’s your job! and slam the trunk closed, deafeningly loud. 
“But that’s unacceptable! I’ll find you something perfect in the coming days no matter what!”
You hear him sigh before you hear his approaching footsteps. “Try not to stress too hard about it. Also, open that back up, there are more bags.”
“Oops,” you giggle. “Why not ask me nicely, like in that Romeo way you did five seconds ago?”
Your other half rightfully elects to ignore you.
As you finish wrapping up with him at your side, the subsequent ride back to campus is in comfortable silence. The buzz of what’s to come lingers on your mind as you stare out of the passenger window at the familiar scenery. You’ll find time to squeeze in finding a gift for Dan Heng, you’ll make sure of it. 
But for now, what to pack for the impending trip…?
Tumblr media
You wake to the sound of your blaring alarm. Scrambling for your phone to make the thing shut up, you’re blinded by the time. It’s 2:30 in the morning, you’re disoriented, and you desperately want to go back to sleep. But when you really come to a minute later after hitting snooze, it all sinks in. 
Your room inspection is over with, your finals have been taken (you didn’t fail any of them, yay), and you have to leave campus with Dan Heng in about thirty minutes. Surreal that you’re awake at this hour, you go about getting ready - this includes texting the man of the hour to make sure he didn’t oversleep.
To your satisfaction, he responds swiftly. To your horror, he mentions that he’s ready and waiting. Unfair, in your opinion - why is he always punctual, and why are you always late?
You look in the mirror at your haphazard reflection. Not too shabby; just a leisure t-shirt and some sweatpants, pulled together by the thickest jacket you have since it’s grown even colder out. Your bags are already packed and practically bursting at the seams, loaded with your essentials, and of course the presents for Dan Heng’s family. 
You spent all of your free time crammed between everything else painting the ceramics while he wrapped and made everything else look pretty.
(You almost got crudely mixed pink paint on your dorm wall - well, you did just a little bit. Luckily it came off without the need to go sprinting to the nearest hardware store in pursuit of a cover-up job. That would have been bad. Very bad. Also, you left the primary suite door open to ventilate, and at least three students walking down the hallway witnessed your perfectionism-driven breakdown. Also, your suitemate hates you now.)
All of that’s over, though. Making sure you have everything once, then twice, then three whole times - you decide it’s finally time to go. You lug everything out of your dorm, down the hallway, into the elevator, and wait as it descends.
You check your phone, updating your boyfriend as the cabin grinds to a halt on the ground floor. Outside is nothing short of beautiful, if not hypothermic.
Snow falls in tiny flurries that make the dark cement purgatory look like a dream. The floodlights leave some corners of the parking lot shadowed, but illuminate Dan Heng just right. You spot him and his old ass car smack dab in the middle of all the empty spaces, just about everyone having vacated already.
“Hi, darling,” your breath syncs with the air as a wispy cloud. You kiss his cheek. “You ready?”
“I have been for the better part of an hour,” he informs you, perhaps a little grumpy from waking up so early - or it could just be that wry sarcasm rearing its head.
You find that Dan Heng is neither an early bird nor a night owl, oscillating between the two like nobody’s business. He’s up when he needs to be, including now, softened under the touch of your lips. 
And so, without much fanfare, the road trip commences. It’s notably different than the other times he’s chauffeured you around - so silent and grave. It kind of puts a damper on the Christmas spirit you’ve so painstakingly adopted, but you think twice about cranking the radio. He is the one driving, after all.  
You offered to switch with him halfway, and to his credit, he thought about it. But then Dan Heng politely shook his head and muttered something about bad weather and hydroplaning. Whatever a hydroplane is, you aren’t sure what it has to do with you being untrustworthy behind the wheel. 
The pleasant blast of the heater, the occasional robotic warbling from the GPS app, and the noise of the light drizzle outside are your more talkative companions. You’re getting antsy; you feel it in the bouncing of your leg and how you mindlessly chew on the dead skin of your bottom lip. 
Should you try to ignore it? Put on your headphones and tune out? The thought is appealing. 
Instead, you pipe up a few minutes before you’re due to turn on the interstate.
“Wanna get coffee?” you singsong. “I mean, you especially are going to need the caffeine to keep awake. Sleep deprivation is, like, the number three reason people get into car crashes.”
Dan Heng huffs in amusement. You’re glad that got some kind of reaction out of him, glad that the stoney silence has been broken. But if you’re being completely honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), this detour suggestion is just an excuse to delay the inevitable. For all of your joy, lingering anxiety chips away at your trademark smirk. 
You decide to bribe him just a little. “I’m buying.”
He turns into the nearest place without any further prodding. The coffee, which you have successfully paid for by the way, is nice. The searing light of the menu options, clambering over Dan Heng to place your orders as loud as you can because you know it’s hard for them to hear anything - fleeting memories of taking orders at your high school part-time job and all that. 
As you take the cup holder tray from your partner, ferried through the drive thru window, he speaks up, much to your chagrin.
“You’re nervous,” he says, leaving no room for doubt. You continue to situate the drinks and glance into the side view mirror, taking a sudden rapt interest in the line forming behind you.
You decide to lie. Maybe he’ll be merciful and let you work this one out on your own. “Me? Nervous? Whatever gives you that impression? Perhaps you needed the coffee more than I thought… poor Dan Heng, so tired that he’s hallucinating…” you whistle.
Gaslighting, unfortunately, doesn’t work. Persuasion check must’ve rolled off. Dan Heng says your name, soft but stilted in a way that makes your heart ache. He rolls out of the drive thru after checking the rearview mirror, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. They gain their color back after he realizes you’re staring at them.
“I’m nervous too. Extremely.” You’re back on the highway, and you fiddle with the GPS to get yourself back en route, taking in his words as they come. Dan Heng is being candid with you; encouraging. “Going back home is always an… ordeal.”
You deflate a bit, conflict warring on your face. Considering how flustered he gets when you dote on him, albeit within his limits, you can’t imagine how exhausting being fussed at from all angles would be. Not like he’s a kid, but that he’s returning home after another semester of being independent.
“Yeah, um, I can imagine. I don’t know much about that stuff, but it’ll probably be amplified with me coming with you. We’ll get through it together and have a great time.”
You say it to convince yourself more than him, but it works. Perhaps that was his plan all along?
“Yes,” agrees Dan Heng. “We will.”
The interstate stretch, predictably, is the most sizable chunk of the trip. Temptation whispers in your ears tantalizingly, the idea of a nap or two at the forefront of your sleep-addled mind. The soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield battling with the snow makes it even harder to resist.
So, you doze soundly in your reclined seat, nice and warm. You think you feel a hand, cold and calloused, brushing against your cheek, but fighting it would require waking up to demand he focus on the road! It retracts, and you’re out for a good long while.
You know that for a fact, because when you wake up, dawn is encroaching. The stars are still visible against the bleeding horizon. You feel much better, even if Dan Heng suppresses a smile at your expense - you seriously must look wrecked from a few simple hours of rest. Geez.
You yawn, waking up to chat. Your boyfriend looks unruffled, cool eyes scanning road signs for a place to apparently fuel up.
He tells you that there’s only about an hour or so left, the ETA checking out. Nerves flood your system, but after a deep breath and stepping out to stretch your legs, you feel better.
“Who knew you were so good at pep talks,” you tease, if not to hide the fact you’re completely enamored with him. You fill up the tank after he cuts the engine, purposefully yelling so he can hear your words through the rolled up windows. “My man, the motivator!”
You hear his ensuing groan, claiming mental victory as the pump dings. Easy. 
Staring at the signs of his hometown, a foreign sense of wonder engulfs you as you split from the interstate. Has that diner been there since Dan Heng was a kid? Did he even spend all of his childhood in one place? Should you ask, or is that too invasive? 
The trees lining the grassy outcrops are tiny and thin, likely just having been planted by the city. How much has changed since you’ve started monopolizing his time?
Your questions spill out, and he does his best to answer them - but he also seems nostalgic, wistful and pained. Your earlier revelation rings true; you don’t know much about Dan Heng’s past.
That’s slowly changing as he tells you some stories, though his words are messy and create a muddled image in your head. You don’t push too far, chattering his ear off in response to keep things lighthearted. 
(Maybe you’ll be more open about yourself too. Maybe.)
Then you careen into a residential area. It’s more suburban than you expected for a city-town hybrid of this size, streets of apartment units and then gated communities of houses. You whistle because you’re almost there, you can feel it!
“Which one is it, huh?” you pester, practically pressing your face against the glass. “Come on, pick up the pace a little!”
“I am not keen on getting a ticket this far in. A few more turns.”
True to his word, a row of townhouses come into view. They’re not massive, but the few you see are brimming with character. Full, decadent awnings and aged brick matched with just the right colors to make your brain happy. They look lived in, filled with memories that you’re eager to digest and, hopefully, be a part of.
Dan Heng pulls into the driveway of the oldest-looking one and parks. The GPS drones on, informing you of your arrival. Your anxiety has almost entirely abated at this point, thank the heavens and stars, and it’s near time to face the music with open arms.
“What a nice place! I guess we should greet them, and then start unloading?”
He nods. It’s still cold out, but less so than at school. Stepping out onto the pavement gives you a little thrill, and you trail behind Dan Heng, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets as you stare at the front door.
It has a little brass knocker in lieu of a doorbell, and you reach out to grasp it on instinct. Your hand brushes his that had reached out at the same time.
You wiggle your eyebrows at him. 
He sighs and finally knocks after you reel your grubby hand back. It all comes down to this - kind of anticlimactic from someone else’s perspective, but paramount from yours. Who will answer the door?
The answer is immediate: Welt. The thing creaks open, revealing a tall, older man with graying brown hair and glasses. He’s utilizing a cane and looks exactly like you imagined, distinguished and fitting right into the scene with his creme turtleneck and kind eyes. He regards you both, first Dan Heng, then you. 
“You’re here early. Welcome back - and I see you’ve brought them, as promised,” Welt’s voice is warm, and you get the feeling the small smile he’s wearing is quite rare. “Come in, we’ve been waiting on you two. It’s an honor to meet Dan Heng’s esteemed partner.”
You’re utterly awestruck, responses forming on your tongue only to dissolve into garbled nothings. As you robotically follow inside, you watch as Dan Heng falls into an awkward-looking side hug with Welt - quickly averting your eyes so they can have a moment. Then, you can’t contain it anymore, speaking to your heart’s content.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot - well, not a lot, but enough,” you ramble unapologetically, taking in the decor of the foyer, “and I’m really excited to be here, you have no idea. Are those Ray Bans? You have a lovely home!”
Your boyfriend, wetting his chapped lips, communicates silently with Welt. You think it’s something like a greeting, a familial synergy you can’t quite grasp yet. Maybe it’s a warning: I am dating an idiot chatterbox, please be nice to them. 
That seems unlikely; necessitates further observation. This is just like Animal Planet. 
“Thank you, I recognize your sincerity. It’s a rare trait, these days,” he mutters mostly to himself, probably reminiscing on some mysterious past. He goes on to curtly answer your more frivolous questions while leading the two of you deeper inside. Dan Heng squeezes your hand and you share your own telepathic glance with him. 
This is going well!
The interior of the living room is striking, bearing the marks of age and care. You recognize most of the furniture as antiques - leather couches and loveseats with beautiful upholstery, a sage grandfather clock standing tall near the stone fireplace, and overflowing bookshelves that’d satiate even the most voracious of readers.
Paintings adorn every wall, not a square inch left blank. The mantle boasts many trinkets and baubles of various cultures, some of which you recognize - and some of which you don’t. Those could definitely be a great conversation starter! 
So charming, so quaint, so rich in history! You’d wax poetic and stare at each nifty little thing until your eyes bled if you could.
“Darling, I didn’t know you were so well-off! Maybe I should start calling you Mr. Old Money.” “...please don’t.”
Welt hides a chuckle in his gloved hand before surveying the room. “It seems everyone is doing their own thing. I’ll go get Himeko, she must be in her study,” he throws a look over his shoulder, uttering your name with just the right amount of phlegm. “Welcome. Don’t be afraid to make yourself at home.”
And you’re left alone to breathe for a short minute. You run your thumb over Dan Heng’s knuckles reverently, pondering aloud. “He’s so cool! He’s an animator, right? I’ve heard you mention something like that before.”
He nods. “Indeed. He’s worked on various pitch bibles for all kinds of IPs, but he’s more content on assuming quieter roles in the industry, or so he’s told us. His passion is what carries him, not the spotlight.”
“...that’s a great way to live,” you marvel. The air feels vulnerable after that, the nature of something as intangible as family running through the undercurrents of the house. “Do you think he’s right for being so humble?”
“It is not my place to comment, but… I can say that I look up to him,” he admits, giving your hand a shy squeeze. “Himeko is similar. She’s--” “--enthralled to finally meet your acquaintance?” 
A new voice cuts in. Himeko is also a vision, donning a winter shawl that wraps around a sepia-colored dress with tights, topped off with a beret. She looks absolutely stunning, and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to compliment her profusely. She stands at a comparable height to Welt, expression softened with mirth.
“It’s long since overdue,” Himeko extends a handshake which you take. Your jaw must be scraping the floor, which Welt and Dan Heng see fit to ignore.
She whips a ruby curl out of her face to scrutinize you - shit, you probably should’ve worn something nicer. First impressions and all that!
She greets Dan Heng with a hardy embrace after letting your hand go. He stands rigid.
“I was beginning to think he was making you up,” she teases. “When you both settle in, we have a lot to catch up on. Can we help you with your bags?”
You grin at your boyfriend, nudging him with your elbow. “Whaddya say, huh?”
He nods, shoulders slumping as if he’s made it past some great obstacle. 
“Great,” Welt interjects, heading back towards the front door with Himeko in tow. Dan Heng turns to you, voice akin to a whisper.
“March and Caelus are probably in their bedrooms or,” he sighs, “conspiring elsewhere. If you’d like, you can go on and look around while we deal with the luggage. It’s a lot to get used to, and you’re better off getting your curiosity out of your system.”
You gasp, splaying a hand over your heart. “You say that like I’m some unruly child! I’m not going to break anything…”
Dan Heng gives you a look.
“...this time,” you begrudgingly add.
Before he can hurry after them though, you gingerly (roughly) grab him by the collar and give him a smooch. It’s over as quick as it began, and you barely get a glimpse of his scandalized visage before you set off to explore. 
The adjoining hallway leading you out of the living room is painted stark white, all kinds of framed photographs hanging on display. Most of them are noir shots of famous people; movie stars, historical figures and the like. You stop in your tracks to look each of them over.
Some aren’t so impersonal. For example, there’s one of Himeko standing in a train station, posing on the platform with a massive and austere steam locomotive behind her. There is also a gray-haired dude at her side, pointing at the train with an exaggerated expression of shock. Caelus. And the photo’s signature - March 7th. 
Right on time, before you can continue snooping, you hear the distinct noise of bickering further down the hallway. You grin, sensing drama like a blood-sniffing shark. 
The muffled racket becomes clearer as you approach what is probably a bedroom door, and you hesitate for only a second before not-rudely throwing it open. You can deal with the consequences later. After all, this sounds more like banter than a serious argument - you would know!
The first thing you see are two figures with their backs turned to you. Pink and gray hair hunched over a desk - Caelus sitting and clicking furiously with March pointing at the one of the three flashing monitors, posing a threat to this hell of a gamer setup.
“You actually suck at this! Log off already, Dan Heng and his guest are going to be here soon,” she chastises as Caelus huffs, him dying moments later (in Pac-Man of all things). “Seriously, this is as boring as watching paint dry. I don’t know how you have so many viewers…”
You blink, scrutinizing the monitors again. Yes, there’s Pac-Man, but there’s also a live chat that seems to be going crazy, dozens of messages burying even more dozens of messages. There’s a facecam too, framing all three of you - wait, three? 
Oops. You’re live on Twitch.
“March is just a grade-A hater,” Caelus declares to his audience, “always betting against me. I’ll have all of you know that I, Whisperer of Dumpsters, Toilet Destroyer--”
A groan. “Not this again.”
They seem oblivious to the fact that you’re here, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. Clippers must be going nuts right about now…
Dan Heng never mentioned that Caelus took this career path - but then again, you can imagine he was trying to avoid the headache of you pestering him with stream references. Either way, you’re here now, and you’ll be damned if you pass up an opportunity this golden.
“They’ve been keeping me in the basement for three years!” you yell, causing both of them to jump and turn in bewilderment, “They’re frauds, kidnappers, liars--”
“We’ve been what?!” March shrieks. She’s either 1.) quickly adjusting to your improv and playing along or 2.) now wholeheartedly convinced that you’ve been held captive here under the floorboards.
The chat lags from how fast messages are coming in, and Caelus cackles maniacally before mashing a shortcut on his keyboard to switch to a Be Right Back screen. What a performance, and you also burst out in laughter, not unlike his. 
“Well, you certainly uh… made an entrance,” March grimaces, looking only slightly mortified. That sourness fades into a friendly smile as she scratches the back of her head. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Oh my god, c’mere!”
Caelus stares at you with beady eyes as she bounds towards your form in the doorway, engulfing you in a giant hug. You feel like crying again. This was supposed to be unserious, but you can’t help but already feel at home. 
“It’s nice to meet you too. Your hair clips are so cute!” 
You exchange pleasantries for a moment before you hear creaking. Caelus has stood up now, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches slowly - like molasses slowly. One menacing stomp in front of the other like he’s trying to intimidate a bear. You tilt your head curiously while March spins around to look at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Group hug. Bring it in,” he answers cryptically.
March wrinkles her nose. “Why do you sound like that? You’ll creep them out!”
Caelus turns to you, looking for confirmation. Immediately, you understand what you must do. This chemistry you share with this kindred spirit should be studied in a lab under a microscope.
“Collective embrace,” you parrot. “Bring it in.”
“...so you’re both weird, huh? Just great.”
You respond by smushing both of them in a crushing hug, a chorus of giggles echoing off the walls, all three of you being the perpetrators. 
This year’s holidays are off to a great start.
Tumblr media
Things surprisingly don’t drag on. 
What that means is a little hard to quantify; nebulous like carbon monoxide. You can’t see it, you can’t taste it, but it certainly takes its toll. 
The first day comes to a close after a shared dinner, a feast, really - you’d never seen so much food in your life and you scarfed it down like a starving man in between conversation on every topic under the sun. You’ve fallen into the swing of things so naturally, and while that’s good, it’s a little too good.
You’ve never considered anxiety to be a formidable foe in your life. You carry conversation, pass the cornbread, spice up everyone’s lives (sometimes at the detriment of your reputation), and most importantly, you do it with a smile.
But after a night or two spent in Dan Heng’s almost spartan bedroom, tossing and turning, you’re starting to believe you’re in more trouble than you thought previously.
The nerves are easy to suppress when you’re bouncing energy off someone else, lost in the moment, because you do truly enjoy the socializing - but that feeling lingers.
And when you’re left with nothing to do, staring at the ceiling with a vengeance on the third night of your stay, all of the doubt catches up. It gains ground until your heart thunders in your chest.
You’ve learned that Himeko is buddy-buddy with the department of transportation, doubling as an engineer and cartographer. She’s even had a part in restoring defunct trains to their former glory, spearheading many vacations along the way. 
(You don’t deserve to be privy to such a meaningful story.) 
Caelus can’t ride a bike. Neither can you. Upon coming to this seismic revelation, he offered to take the plunge with you in an attempt to learn if you were interested. You agreed before he could even get the full sentence out. 
(You’re only good at goofing around.)
March insisted that you be a temporary proofreader for her own university essays, most of which being on topics you could never wrap your head around in a million years.
Shenanigans ensued until you ended up denouncing higher education as a whole, choosing to believe in her own freestyle structure rather than whatever hellish rubric was being peddled. 
(You’re too airheaded to help in a normal way.)
You’ve even grown closer with Welt. You two listened to the crackling of the old gramophone in his respective study, chiming in with your own thoughts on his archaic but classic music taste. There was a little bit of discussion on media preservation, your earnest passion pairing well with his own. 
(You’re coming off too strong.)
But you feel the worst about the man sleeping next to you. 
You’re supposed to be in your highest spirits, but Dan Heng has gotten good at spotting your tells. The tightness of your smile comes off as overjoyed to your new friends, but strained to him. The guilt of possibly ruining it all is unforgiving, tightened about your neck like an evil scarf.
He knows something’s up, and you know that he knows. It’s on you for not being forward about your struggles - hell, you’ve scolded him countless times about how he clams up about feelings and all that mess. You’re just a little bit of a hypocrite, then. What would you even say on the subject?
Sorry I’m such a buzzkill? Sorry I haven’t been more open with you? Sorry that I’m the actual wors--
You muffle a sob, burying your face in Dan Heng’s pillow. You just need to calm down, even if that means getting snot on his nice shams. You hiccup, and to your muted horror, the mattress creaks with movement.
Voice rough with sleep and alarm, Dan Heng calls out to you. You tense but otherwise refuse to lift your head up from your comfy sanctuary, chest rising and falling in snappy bursts.
You can’t face him like this, so tangled in everything you feel. You feel so unbelievably guilty, even if a more sensible part of you knows you’re just overthinking.
“Please look at me.”
If you’re making comparisons, Dan Heng must be the wind. Gentle and mild like a calming gale, never a torrent eager to knock you off your feet. No, he is sobering like a wayward breeze. His plea is so soft, and you only hate yourself a little bit for giving in and meeting his eyes.
His hair is sticking up in every direction just like yours. It’s not a foreign sight - you’ve slept in the same bed at least a hundred times, but the worried frown tugging at his lips is new. You sniffle and wipe your face, words a jumble of nonsense.
“Try to breathe. It’s going to be alright,” he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll wait.”
That last part might sound impatient in some other context, but right now, it’s resolute - it’s a promise. He’ll wait until you’re ready, however long that will take.
You crumble, shakily inhaling and exhaling until you sit up to mirror his stance. You fumble to embrace him, which he accepts readily - not unused to your spontaneous acts of affection. 
However, there’s a stutter in his movements. He’s not used to seeing you so put out, you hazard, unable to even produce coherent speech.
“I love you so much,” you gasp.
“...is that what this is about? Or is there more?”
Dan Heng strokes your hair through your tearful explanation. You know you don’t make a lot of sense right now, but it’s all you can manage. He still listens with scholarly attention to detail, not doting or prying. He’s here. He’s here for you, just like you are for him.
The dam has burst. “Have I ever told you about my family?”
“No,” he admits. “Do you want to?”
So you tell him enough. You only paint a vague picture; recounting endless disagreements and fighting, being kicked to the curb and ostracized, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your barely adult life before being thrusted into college all alone with no one to watch out for you. You’ve only dropped hints beforehand - after all, who wants to reopen old wounds? 
Silence can be just as powerful of a response as spoken words. Dan Heng understands, you know that already, but the way he holds you is compelling evidence alone.
Dan Heng’s family is wonderful; being part of it makes you feel a little sick inside, somehow made worse by his ministrations. “It may be unfair of me to say, but… I think I know how you feel. My life before I came to live and travel with everyone was lonely. Lonely and painful, and you don’t deserve to feel that way. Ever.”
When you don’t respond, he continues. 
“But I’m now content to call them my cherished companions. And you,” Dan Heng emphasizes, syllables unsure despite his best efforts, “are one of them as well. We haven’t pried too much into what is painful, but I’ve always felt like we’ve never needed to. That was my mistake.”
He makes a point of thumbing the residue of your episode away, an apology in and of itself. Of course he blames solely himself, you muse, biting back a playful reprimand that wouldn’t land well right now. Your breathing regains a semblance of normalcy as you muster up enough gusto to respond. 
“No, don’t be silly. I want to talk to you more about our lives before each other, I think. Together, y’know? I-Isn’t that just so romantic? Being emotionally constipated doesn’t do either of us any favors.” 
Your tone has lightened, enough for him to notice and furrow his brows in concern. Given, you rebound at the speed of light, never wishing to linger on the bad - partially because sadness is unpleasant and uncommon, but mostly because you feel like you’re unable to. That’s just how you are. However, the way he looks at you is encouragement enough to move forward.
You feel better, you do, but your eyes are still red and puffy. The night outside is still cold and unpredictable.
“Whatever you need,” Dan Heng nods. He can only be so sworn in his promises - so determined - before you crack a smile.
“Alright, easy on the white knight talk,” you chuckle. Realizing how close you actually are, there’s a pause. You can smell the mint of his shampoo, and your arms are tangled with his in some kind of human knot that’d have Houdini sweating. “It’s weird…”
He stares at you, unimpressed. “I thought you wanted me to talk to you in a ‘Romeo’ way.”
You only huff, unable to come up with a retort for once, which is fine. You wipe your face again and drag him down with you back onto the bed, which he allows, because Dan Heng is too good for you and also happens to be a complete pushover. At least you can use your frazzled, unstable emotional state to get what you want.
Case in point: you spoon him. The covers assume their original position after you wrangle them to behave, holding him close from behind. A little part of you does this so he can’t see if you start up the waterworks again, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“It’ll be alright,” Dan Heng reminds, surrendering to your whims as always.
The dust settles and you’re inclined to believe him. There is still much time left, with Christmas day being the focal point of your visit, and you’re starting to get sleepy again. That’s always a good sign; sleepy, relaxed, and with a head drained of pressing worries - at least for the present moment.
Your eyes close, bereft of tears as you murmur your agreement.
Tumblr media
To your surprise and horror, this house didn’t have a Christmas tree. It’s not like it mattered that much, but it was still shocking nonetheless. With a building exploding with life, there wasn't an evergreen decked out in ornaments or a pine covered in lights to tie the room together.
Honestly, where were they going to put their presents? 
However, you forgave this transgression a day or two later under the condition that you would be allowed to pick one out. Everyone seemed to be fine with it, with you offering to cover the cost this close to the 25th - and your determined expression that would’ve been pointless to argue with. Santa Claus works hard but you work harder.
Caelus and March jumped to go with you, much to the others�� relief, and that was more than enough hands on deck for you to hop in Caelus’s car and drive to the nearest tree farm in the dead of winter, borrowing some mittens and a cute knitted hat from March so you wouldn’t become a human popsicle before your 30s.
Uh, you did get a bit lost. You had to interrogate the shit out of the GPS and one poor local to get there; the latter was not your fault by the way! Caelus just so happened to be carrying a bat and had a concerning look in his eye. That put you in good enough standing to make it there, even if the selection of trees were picked over, leaving only the runts on sale.
All three of you turned away with your hands empty, opting to make a last minute shopping trip to the mall to buy a fake one. You were against it, but your suggestion to buy three small trees and place them really close together was vetoed. “Majority rules” is totes unfair…
But the mall trip turned into a lot more when you actually got there. Both of them ganged up on you with a reminder that you haven’t gotten Dan Heng a gift yet! Honestly, you could say you regret confessing that to them earlier, but you totally needed to hear it.
Imagine you, waking up on Christmas morning with nothing to give the love of your life! Deplorable, unforgivable, and tragically heartbreaking. 
And you had a council there to help you; people that know Dan Heng just as well as you do. 
“He’s so hard to shop for,” March had groaned, flicking through racks of clothes with a dark aura surrounding her. “Trust me, I’ve tried in the past. He always says he’s fine with anything, giving me zero hints…”
“Maybe get him nothing,” Caelus suggested after, more occupied with trying to steal coins from the nearby wishing fountain. Like one does. “You could run him over and he’d thank you politely.”
Similar experiences there. He’s always been more attuned to your wants than his own, which you’ve been trying to get him to work on at his own pace. Unfortunately, the place was about to close for the night since you already spent the day gallivanting around.
The burly mall security guard looked dangerously close to kicking your trio out, with at least one of you kicking and screaming, so you had to leave empty handed again. 
The others assured you that you’d find a present in time. You decided to go with the flow and hope that the heavens above would drop one into your lap by the day of.
Spoiler alert: they didn’t! Because Christmas day is now here, and it all seems hopeless. Well, aside from the fact that you’re all settled around the coffee table and a big, burning fire is roaring in the fireplace. 
There’s still a smile on your face as Welt and Himeko tear open their presents with wise, softened gazes. You can’t let your own mistakes ruin the moment, after all.
“Truly, thank you both,” Himeko croons, looking over her respective mug and brooch with awe. “I was prepared to perhaps play up the excitement a bit, but… I’m very impressed. Dan Heng, you’ve picked well.”
He flushes. “They helped me,” he nods to you.
“No,” she laughs, “I meant you picked a good partner.”
Before you can stammer out a reply, Welt chimes in. He’s inspecting the quality of his tie with muted gratitude - his new mug seems to only serve as a reminder that he has to drink Himeko’s coffee out of it. Hey, at least your heart was in the right place!
“I have to agree. Both of you must have collaborated seamlessly to shop for our preferences.” 
Caelus, wearing his big ass jacket that you and Dan Heng bought him, sprawls out across one of the couches like a housecat. “This is a lot better than what you got me last year, Cold Dragon Young.”
Dan Heng bristles and you burst out laughing at the expression he’s making. “Cold Dragon what?”
“Ignore them,” he pleads, lips twitching upward just a smidge; a ghost of a smile. Dan Heng really does like the teasing more than he lets on. 
March was almost reduced to tears by the jewelry dish you painted for her - which is more of a jewelry box at this point - but she recovers from her reverie and endless thank yous to giggle at your partner’s expense, something that’s swiftly turning into a group effort. “One time, we all got roped into fistfighting these bad guys in a club, and after Dan Heng took care of them--”
“I was left with no other choice--”
“--then that became his ring name. Cold Dragon Young!” she finishes. 
Himeko and Welt exchange an exhausted look. You immediately decide that the moniker is going to become his contact name in your phone until the end of time. You also start wheezing (and also kind of blushing) at the idea of Dan Heng, the near-pacifist, duking it out with someone. “S-Sounds like you guys have been everywhere…”
“...we have,” your boyfriend clears his throat. You sense a topic change, or even a segue, drawing your attention. You sit up a little straighter and wipe the comically-induced hysteria from your eyes. 
He’s looking at you expectantly with some of the earlier heat coloring the tips of his ears. The room lulls into silence as he makes his way over to the tree to retrieve a box from underneath the branches, wrapped in pastel yellow with no bow.
Dan Heng hands it over, and when your skin brushes against his for a fleeting second, you feel the clamminess of his palms.
“Oh, me next?” you blink. Shaking the thing a bit too aggressively, listening for any indication of a bomb (just in case), you get a good feel of its weight. Light and mysterious. You’re too busy making mental guesses that you don’t notice Welt shepherding the others out of the room.
“Yes. I hope you like it,” he watches as you tear open the wrapping paper and the box itself. Dan Heng is so beautiful it’s almost criminal, unintentionally batting his lashes in a way that has you swallowing drool.
You scoff. “Of course I will!”
Inside the box rests… two tickets? Your mind jumps to movie tickets first and foremost, but that’s obviously not the case; the ones here are golden with faded ridges and accented with red, sparkling as you fawn over them. Then you read the printed text lining the bottom of the thin cardstock.
The Astral Express. They’re two boarding passes.
“No way,” It’s the name of the restored steam locomotive in the picture, the very same one that Himeko told you about working on during the height of her career. “Does this mean…?”
Dan Heng drinks in the surprised part of your lips, scratching at his neck. “You mentioned that you wanted to travel. I, and the rest of us, thought you’d like to accompany us on a trip. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine,” he promises. “I can get refunded, and we’ll all stay. But it’s scheduled to start the day after tomorrow and last until the new year.”
You don’t want to cry again, even if they’re happy tears, so you launch yourself into his arms as a welcome distraction. You may be imagining it, but you think you feel him slump in relief. Again. How long will it take to get it through his thick skull that he could never disappoint you?
“Duh, of course I want to! Darling, what kind of jerk would I be if I said no and made everyone cancel their plans? Oh my god, oh my god--”
“You m-may want to breathe.”
His concern is so genuine - that’s not even meant to be teasing. You scream into his shoulder, already thinking of nights spent in velvet cabins and days spent watching the cross-country scenery go by on the silver rail. With good food. Lots of it. 
“I’m breathing,” you huff, in fact, short of breath. “Thank you, Dan Heng. I love it so much.”
You pull back, box and tickets still safe in your grasp despite your earlier flailing. The magical moment fizzles, your joy stunted as guilt emerges. “But I… I didn’t get you anything. I’m so sorry, we shopped all over, and everything’s been so hectic…”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I meant what I said.”
“Huh?”
“When we were shopping all that time ago,” he clarifies. “I don’t need anything but you. And with the others coming along,” Dan Heng gestures to the tickets, everyone else’s likely stowed away somewhere safe, “It’s the best gift I could ask for, more than I could ever want.”
You don’t rebut him this time.
The guilt has all but vanished, and you pull Dan Heng into a tender kiss. This has, no joke, probably been the best break of your life so far. Not to mention you have a whole new trip to look forward to, with a whole new family at your side.
Just as you think this perfect moment is unshakable, hoots and jeers break out from behind you. You whip around, dazed, and Caelus is cheering both of you on like his life depends on it.
“Wooooo! I told you they’d like it, dude! May your love burn bright for years to co--”
…then March clamps a hand over his mouth and hauls him away. 
Dan Heng is so embarrassed that he chokes on a laugh. You make sure to join him in kind, the present moment also holding the infinite possibilities of the future.
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! it means the world to me 🎅🎁 on ao3
392 notes · View notes
krispdreemurr · 8 days ago
Note
what do you make of ramb saying the sword route is the game kris *actually* wants to play? does kris actually like the original game more than the games tenna prepared for them? do they just see the sword route as a means towards an end (obtaining freedom, presumably)? would they even be playing it if it was up to them? i'm trying to figure out if anything of what ramb says about kris is accurate or if his view of them is distorted by his nostalgia goggles
i've expressed this a few times before, but my loose take is that ramb is, deliberately or not, pointing out to Kris how loose the layers of things are. kris liked games where doing violence was the only way to progress, they probably did the evil route in db2 to get full completion, they had fun and even got to 'healthily' process nastier intrusive thoughts thru taking things out on game characters.
what the games are illustrating is that the dark world is just as unreal as the video game, and so surely just as consequence-free. even if you're broken off the main route and ended up on the evil one, whether you meant to or had the choice to or not, hey, now you're on it and can have fun! there's some cool spooky scenes and a really interesting challenging boss fight on this path, and if there's no other way to progress, surely it's okay to just Enjoy it?
freedom can mean making a single, terrible choice that locks you to a far worse path, so long as you enjoy it, so long as you're having fun. freedom can mean not caring about consequence or responsibility because you can do anything and it won't change anything at all. freedom can mean giving in to all the worst of yourself.
have fun, Kris. play the game. it's just fake, like everything else here.
162 notes · View notes
w1w2 · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
A Game of Almosts
Part 2 - Three Words, Eight Letters
Karina x Fem!Reader feat. Winter
Word Count: ca. 8k
Synopsis: Amid the elite halls of Yonsei University, Y/N and Karina navigate a friendship laced with unspoken tension, lingering glances, and the weight of everything left unsaid. As their world of luxury and power shifts around them, Y/N begins to question whether waiting for Karina will ever be enough.
Req by 🐻 anon
English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
♡ Enjoy! ♡
The sun hung high over the sprawling campus of Yonsei University, casting long shadows across its historic, ivy-clad buildings. This wasn’t just Korea’s top university, it was a symbol of power, a place where the children of billionaires, politicians, and entertainment moguls walked the same halls, each one groomed for greatness. Every corner of Yonsei whispered of old money, of dynasties built over decades, of futures already mapped out before students even set foot on campus.
To study here was an honor. To rule its social scene? That was a privilege granted to only a select few.
At the very top stood as everyone called them The Power Group.
Six women. 
Y/N, Karina, Giselle, Ningning, Yeji, and Ryujin, who embodied wealth, influence, and an effortless magnetism that made them the undisputed elite. Their last names were printed on the glass towers of Gangnam, their families' businesses controlled entire industries, and their mere presence could elevate a casual gathering into an event worth talking about.
People watched them from a distance, careful not to stare too long, yet unable to look away. They were untouchable, unattainable, yet endlessly fascinating, a world of their own, one that everyone wanted to be a part of, but no one could reach.
At the center of it all was Y/N.
A girl whose smile had the power to melt even the coldest hearts. She was the embodiment of sunshine, effortlessly charming, perpetually warm, and with an energy so infectious that people found themselves drawn to her before they even realized it. With a heart-shaped face and expressive eyes that sparkled with mischief, she had a beauty that felt both delicate and undeniable. Though she exuded an air of playful confidence, there was a sincerity in her laughter, a softness in the way she carried herself that made her impossible to resist.
Where Y/N was light, Karina was ice. 
Karina was the epitome of poise and control, a woman who carried herself with an effortless grace that made her seem almost untouchable. With a strikingly symmetrical face, sharp eyes, and a tall, elegant frame, she had the kind of beauty that felt almost unreal, like something sculpted rather than born. She was intelligent, meticulous, and always composed, a perfectionist raised in the world of corporate dynasties where power was a game of patience and precision.
On the surface, Karina was cool and calculating, her emotions kept under tight lock and key. But those who truly knew her, an exclusive, almost nonexistent list, understood that beneath the icy exterior was something far more complex. There was a quiet protectiveness in the way she handled the people she cared about, a depth to her loyalty that she would never admit aloud.
Yet, even among their circle, Karina remained an enigma, a woman who could command attention with a single glance yet remained just out of reach, her true feelings buried beneath carefully crafted indifference.
The rest of the Power Group played their roles seamlessly, each one an essential piece of the empire they had built. They weren’t just a group of wealthy, beautiful women. They were a force, a dynasty in their own right, each member carrying a presence so distinct yet perfectly in sync with the others.
Giselle, the sharp-tongued genius, was the strategist of the group. With a razor-sharp wit and an uncanny ability to read people, she knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Her words could be a weapon or a lifeline, depending on how she chose to wield them. Effortlessly cool and disarmingly intelligent, Giselle never had to try too hard, she was the kind of person who naturally drew people in, even as she kept them at arm’s length. Her family’s influence in global finance had given her a mind trained for power, and though she often wore a laid-back smirk, everyone knew better than to underestimate her.
Ningning was the wildcard, the unpredictable one, the kind of girl who could go from laughing over expensive champagne to stirring up trouble in the blink of an eye. She was as bold as she was stunning, her confidence carrying an almost reckless charm that made her impossible to ignore. She thrived on chaos, on pushing boundaries, on keeping things exciting. With a devil-may-care attitude and a mischievous glint in her eye, Ningning kept even the most composed members of the group on their toes, never letting anything get too serious for too long. But behind that playful exterior was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, she was no fool, and she never played a game she couldn’t win.
Yeji and Ryujin were a force of their own, a duo that balanced sharp wit with sheer intimidation. Yeji, the composed and calculating one, had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect without ever needing to ask for it. She was the group’s silent observer, the one who saw everything, always three steps ahead in any situation. Where Yeji was refined and strategic, Ryujin was bold and commanding, carrying herself with an effortless confidence that made people hesitate before daring to cross her. Together, they were an unshakable presence, whether through influence, intelligence, or sheer dominance, they knew how to make people fall in line without needing to lift a finger.
Together, the six of them weren’t just a friend group, they were an empire, an unspoken hierarchy that the rest of Yonsei University unconsciously bowed to. They didn’t need to declare their power. It was simply understood.
Though the Power Group was impenetrable, an undeniable shift occurred when it came to Y/N and Karina.
Their connection ran deeper than the others’, woven into the very foundation of their lives. They had grown up together, their names tied to each other since childhood, their families intertwined through business and legacy. To the outside world, they were simply best friends, a natural pairing, two daughters of conglomerates who had known each other longer than they had known themselves.
But there was something more.
Something lingering in the way Karina’s gaze would hold onto Y/N just a second too long, her normally unreadable expression softening, as if caught in a moment she didn’t want to admit to. Something in the way Y/N’s teasing carried an edge, her playful words laced with a challenge, as if daring Karina to acknowledge what they both pretended wasn’t there.
Their interactions were effortless yet loaded, a shoulder brush that sent shivers, a shared look across a crowded room that spoke volumes, a casual touch that lasted a second too long. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection so deep it blurred the lines between what was friendship and what was something else entirely.
And yet, they denied it.
To the public, Y/N and Karina were just two childhood friends, inseparable but strictly platonic. Their names were often thrown together in whispered gossip, speculation running wild about whether they were more than what they claimed to be. But Karina dismissed the rumors with a flick of her wrist, a smirk tugging at her lips as if the idea itself was ridiculous. She was practiced in avoidance, in brushing things off, in controlling every narrative that threatened to slip out of her grasp.
Y/N, on the other hand, never confirmed nor denied anything. She simply laughed. A knowing, teasing kind of laugh, the kind that gave people nothing yet made them wonder even more. If someone asked, she’d raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips, as if amused by the question itself.
But their friends saw the truth, hidden in the stolen moments, in the tension thick enough to suffocate.
They saw it in the way Karina’s fingers would tighten around Y/N’s wrist whenever she tried to walk away, her grip just firm enough to hold her there, just gentle enough to pretend it wasn’t out of desperation.
They saw it in the way Y/N’s mood would shift depending on Karina’s presence, how she could be laughing one second, but the moment Karina entered the room, everything else faded into the background. Her eyes would instinctively find her, drawn to her like gravity.
They saw it in the way Karina’s face would soften, how the ice that usually shielded her from the world would melt away whenever she looked at Y/N, when she thought no one else was watching.
It was a game they had played for years, balancing on the line between too much and not enough, pretending that the tension wasn’t suffocating.
A push and pull, a cycle of longing and denial. A storm brewing just beneath the surface.
Long before they were Karina and Y/N, before their names became the subject of whispered gossip and admiration, they were simply Jimin and Y/N, two children born into privilege, yet seeking something only the other could provide.
Their friendship had been written in stone before they were even old enough to understand it. Their parents, both titans of industry, had long moved in the same circles, their empires intertwined through business, influence, and unspoken alliances. From the moment they were born, their lives had been parallel, two heirs growing up in the same opulent spaces, expected to walk the same gilded path.
Their earliest memories were of summer afternoons spent running through the vast estate of the Yu family, their laughter bouncing off the grand marble walls of Karina’s childhood home. The estate itself was something out of a dream, endless gardens stretching toward the horizon, a private lake reflecting the golden hues of the sky, corridors so vast that their younger selves could get lost in them for hours.
Y/N remembered the feeling of Karina’s small hand gripping hers, leading her down secret hallways, through hidden doors, into spaces only they knew. She remembered midnight escapades, the two of them sneaking out of bed, tiptoeing past their parents’ grand dinner parties, muffling their giggles as they stole sweets from the lavish dessert trays before making their escape into the gardens.
And then there were the quiet moments, the ones that stayed with Y/N the most.
Late nights spent whispering beneath silk sheets, Karina’s voice hushed but full of curiosity as they spoke about the future, about what they would become, about whether they would always be together like this. The warmth of Karina’s head resting against her shoulder, the steady rhythm of her breath as sleep slowly took her away. The way Karina’s eyes, so guarded in front of others, would soften in the dim glow of their shared childhood, revealing something fragile, something real.
Jimin.
That was what Y/N called her back then. The name only Y/N was allowed to use, a privilege she had never taken lightly. No one else, not their parents, not their friends, not the world that worshiped Karina, would ever be allowed to utter that name the way Y/N did, like a secret, like a promise.
Even as children, Y/N knew.
She knew that what she felt for Karina was different. It wasn’t just friendship, wasn’t just the deep-rooted bond of two girls who had grown up as sisters in all but blood. It was something bigger, something unspoken, something that made her chest feel too tight whenever Karina pulled away, something that made her crave the moments when Karina’s walls would crack just enough for Y/N to slip through.
But Karina? Karina had always been careful.
Even as a child, she was cautious, measured, never allowing herself to feel too much, never letting anything slip beyond what she could control. She cared for Y/N, that much was obvious, but even back then, Y/N could sense Karina’s hesitance. The way she would let herself get close, but never too close. The way she would reach for Y/N, but never hold on for too long.
It had been that way ever since.
And no matter how much Y/N wanted to believe otherwise, some things never changed.
The shift came on a night that should have been just like any other.
They were alone in Y/N’s dorm, the warmth of the room wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. The city lights outside flickered through the tall windows, casting soft, golden shadows along the walls, making the space feel more intimate than it was. The faint hum of traffic from the streets below filled the silence between them, a distant reminder that the world outside still existed, even if, in this moment, it felt like it had faded away.
They had been drinking champagne stolen from an exclusive event earlier that evening, its expensive bubbles still fizzing in the half-empty glasses on the coffee table. Neither of them had really been trying to get drunk, but there was something about the stolen luxury, the quiet rebellion of it, that had made it taste sweeter. Y/N sat with her legs folded beneath her, her head resting against the back of the couch, while Karina lounged beside her, legs stretched out, fingers absentmindedly twirling the stem of her glass.
There was a stillness to the moment, a rare kind of quiet comfort that neither of them ever spoke about but always cherished. Karina looked different like this, softer, more open, the usual tension in her shoulders gone. The dim lighting smoothed out the sharp edges of her face, made her seem almost fragile, almost reachable.
It was in moments like this that Y/N let herself wonder.
Wonder what it would be like if Karina let herself want this, want her. If she would ever stop hiding behind carefully measured glances and playful denials. If there would ever be a day when Y/N didn’t have to guess, didn’t have to settle for almost.
Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the exhaustion of pretending.
But this time, she reached for her.
Her fingers brushed against Karina’s wrist, a slow, deliberate touch that trailed upward until she could feel the warmth of Karina’s pulse beneath her fingertips. A quiet inhale, barely audible over the space between them. Karina didn’t move, she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either. Her stillness spoke louder than words.
Y/N exhaled softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You know,” she murmured, her fingers still resting against Karina’s skin, “sometimes I think about what it would be like if we didn’t have to pretend.”
She felt it then, the slightest tremor in Karina’s wrist, the way her pulse jumped under Y/N’s touch. For a second, just a second, it felt like the whole world had stopped breathing.
Karina’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.
She just stared.
And then, as if snapping back into herself, she laughed.
A quiet, airy sound that should have been lighthearted, but felt like a wall being rebuilt in real time. It was carefully crafted, forced in a way that made Y/N’s stomach twist.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karina said, shaking her head as if Y/N had suggested something as absurd as moving to Mars. Her tone was easy, playful, the same way it always was when she was dismissing something that mattered. “We’re just… us.”
And just like that, the moment was gone.
The air between them, once charged with something fragile and electric, turned cold.
Y/N let her hand fall away, curling her fingers into her lap as if trying to erase the touch entirely. She forced a grin, mirroring Karina’s effortless amusement, pretending it didn’t sting. Pretending it didn’t feel like she had just been made a fool of.
But something inside her cracked, something small, but significant.
Because in that instant, she realized that as long as Karina refused to acknowledge what was between them, as long as she kept pretending it wasn’t real, Y/N would always be the one left feeling foolish.
And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if being "just us" was enough anymore.
Y/N didn’t bring up that night again.
She didn’t reach for Karina’s hand, didn’t press for answers, didn’t let herself fall into that same cycle of almosts and what ifs. Instead, she let Karina’s laugh echo in the back of her mind, let it settle like a dull ache in her chest, and convinced herself that this, whatever this was, would never change.
Maybe Karina thought Y/N had accepted it. Maybe she thought Y/N would always be there, waiting, willing to play along with the silent, unspoken push and pull they had fallen into over the years.
But if Karina thought Y/N would stay in this emotional limbo forever, she was wrong.
Because it wasn’t just that one moment in the dorm. It was every moment after it.
The way Karina still acted like she always did, possessive, territorial, constantly hovering, but never in a way that meant something real. She was always there, standing too close, fingers ghosting over Y/N’s wrist, whispering things that made Y/N’s heart stutter, but the moment anyone else acknowledged it? The moment Y/N wanted more?
Karina erased it.
She would lean in but never stay, touch but never hold, watch but never claim. Always there, but never enough.
And Y/N was tired of it.
She was tired of being treated like something Karina couldn’t let go of, but couldn’t keep, either. Tired of the stolen moments, the fleeting touches, the way Karina’s eyes would soften when no one was looking, only for her to turn cold the moment anyone else noticed.
And then came the final push.
It was an extravagant evening, one of those dinners that only the richest, most powerful students at Yonsei could attend. The restaurant was luxurious, private, their usual crowd filling the most exclusive table in the room. The air hummed with quiet conversations, laughter spilling over the rim of expensive wine glasses, servers moving like shadows between tables, ensuring that every need was met before it was even voiced.
As always, the Power Group sat in their usual formation, Giselle effortlessly charming the room, Ningning and Ryujin caught up in some playful argument, Yeji sitting back with that knowing smirk of hers. And, of course, Karina beside Y/N, like always.
The conversation had drifted to them.
To Y/N and Karina. To the way people always seemed to watch them a little too closely, to the way they moved around each other, to the rumors that never seemed to die no matter how many times they denied them.
Y/N wasn’t paying attention at first.
She was too distracted by Karina’s fingers, idly toying with the stem of her wine glass, her nails tapping lightly against the delicate crystal. Too caught up in the way Karina’s knee brushed against hers under the table, just the faintest touch, one that she could have pulled away from but didn’t.
But then she heard it.
“You and Y/N are basically a couple, right?”
It was said so casually, so teasingly, that it shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
Because for the briefest second, Y/N let herself hope.
She let herself believe, just this once, that maybe, just maybe, Karina wouldn’t dismiss it this time. That maybe, this time, Karina would acknowledge it. That maybe, for once, Karina would meet her halfway.
Instead, Karina barely reacted.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes, her lips curving into an amused smirk as if the mere thought of it was laughable.
“Don’t be stupid.” Her voice was light, dismissive, so easy. “She’s just my best friend.”
Best friend.
Y/N felt the words like a physical thing. A cold, sharp knife to the gut.
The room didn’t change. People kept talking, the music still played softly in the background, waiters continued pouring wine. Everything remained exactly the same, except for the way Y/N’s world tilted slightly, just enough to make her feel like she was falling.
She should have been used to this by now, Karina’s refusal, Karina’s indifference when it mattered, Karina’s ability to shut down every possibility of them with a single sentence.
But tonight, it felt different.
Tonight, it felt like a slap in the face.
Because tonight, Y/N was done pretending that it didn’t hurt.
She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe through the sting, to hold herself together, to smile like it didn’t matter.
And then, without a word, she pushed her chair back, excused herself, and stepped outside.
The cool night air hit her instantly, sharp against the heat still clinging to her skin. She exhaled slowly, pressing her hands against the railing of the balcony, staring out at the cityscape below. Seoul stretched out before her, bright, endless, indifferent.
She waited. Some foolish part of her still believed Karina would come after her.
But Karina didn’t. She never did.
The next morning, Y/N made a decision.
She wasn’t ready to cut Karina out of her life completely. Maybe she never would be. There was something about Karina, something in the way her presence felt like home and destruction all at once, that made the idea of walking away seem impossible. 
How could she sever something that had been a part of her for so long? How could she erase years of intertwined memories, of laughter shared under childhood blankets, of whispered secrets, of lingering touches that never quite meant enough?
No, she wasn’t ready for that, but she was ready for something else.
She was ready to stop waiting.
Waiting for Karina to change, to wake up one day and finally realize that Y/N had been there all along, standing at the edge of her world, waiting to be let in. Waiting for Karina to want her back, to stop treating her like a secret too fragile to acknowledge in the light of day. Waiting for Karina to choose her, to finally say the words Y/N had spent years aching to hear.
But Karina wouldn’t. She never had and deep down, Y/N was starting to wonder if she ever would.
So when she walked into her economics lecture next morning, shoulders still heavy with the weight of last night’s rejection, she didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary, just another dull class, another assignment that barely held her interest, another hour spent trying to convince herself that she wasn’t thinking about Karina.
She barely paid attention as the professor droned on about their upcoming group project, listing off student pairings with the kind of monotonous tone that made the words blur together. Y/N let her eyes drift, staring absently out the window, watching the way the early morning light cast golden reflections over the rooftops of Seoul, painting the city in soft, muted hues.
And then she heard it.
Her name.
Snapping back to attention, she sat up a little straighter, blinking as her professor continued.
And then he said another name.
Kim Minjeong, known as Winter.
The name rang out through the lecture hall, crisp and clear, cutting through the haze in Y/N’s mind. She blinked again, tilting her head slightly, as if she hadn’t heard correctly.
She knew the name. Everyone at Yonsei University knew the name and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt something other than heartbreak. It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t an immediate, earth-shattering moment of clarity. It was something smaller, something quieter, but something real.
Maybe relief. Maybe curiosity. Maybe fate nudging her in the right direction.
Whatever it was, she took it as a sign. Winter was different.
Where Karina was sharp edges and suffocating tension, an endless cycle of push and pull that left Y/N feeling strung along, dizzy, and uncertain, Winter was easy, like exhaling after holding her breath for too long.
She didn’t smother. She didn’t confuse. She didn’t make Y/N feel like she was standing on unsteady ground, teetering between hope and heartbreak, waiting for something that would never come.
Winter was steady, a quiet presence that carried weight without ever demanding it. She wasn’t cold, not exactly, but there was a kind of measured detachment to the way she moved through the world, as if nothing could rattle her, as if she had long ago learned how to exist without needing the validation of anyone else. People noticed her, but not because she sought their attention, she simply had a presence that made it impossible to look away.
Y/N had seen her before, of course. Everyone in Yonsei knew Winter.
She was a music major, but she didn’t fit the stereotype of an eccentric artist, the kind who wore their emotions on their sleeve, who poured every thought and feeling into the world without restraint. No, Winter was the opposite of that. She was contained, unreadable, effortlessly charismatic yet somehow distant, like she existed on an entirely different wavelength from the rest of them.
People whispered about her.
Rumors surrounded her like an aura of mystery, but Winter never entertained them.
They said her family was old money, deeply entrenched in Korea’s entertainment industry, controlling the very foundations of pop culture itself. They said her parents had already mapped out her future for her, had crafted a carefully constructed path for her to follow, one that led straight to the boardrooms of an empire she didn’t want to inherit.
Winter was supposed to be next in line.
She was supposed to be sitting in business meetings instead of lecture halls, supposed to be preparing to take over one of the country’s largest entertainment conglomerates. But instead, she spent her time in soundproofed studios, fingers dancing over piano keys, lost in the kind of passion that had nothing to do with profit margins or market trends.
And yet, here she was.
Forced to take economics, forced to sit through courses that held no meaning to her, forced to solve equations for a future she didn’t want. Y/N could relate to that.
Maybe that was why, when they sat next to each other for the first time, when Y/N turned to her, hesitated for a split second before offering a small, uncertain smile, Winter simply raised an eyebrow, smirked, and said, “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
There was something so effortless about it, something light, something freeing in a way that Y/N hadn’t felt in a long time.
And just like that, Y/N felt the first piece of herself begin to realign.
Their first meeting outside of class took place at a quiet coffee shop nestled between the bustling streets of Sinchon, a small, tucked away place that smelled of freshly ground espresso and warm vanilla. It was the kind of café that only locals knew about, a haven away from the crowded student-packed chains near Yonsei’s campus, somewhere discreet, somewhere safe from wandering eyes and unnecessary attention.
When Y/N stepped inside, the soft hum of music playing through the speakers mixed with the occasional clinking of porcelain cups, the atmosphere calm, intimate, undisturbed. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of emotions she had been drowning in for the past few days, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to exhale.
Her eyes instinctively scanned the room, and there she was.
She was already seated in a corner booth by the window, bathed in soft afternoon light, her fingers idly twirling a pen between them. In front of her lay an open notebook, pages slightly curled at the edges, an untouched latte sitting beside it, the foam still perfectly intact. She looked effortless, like she had been there for hours, like she belonged in a painting, a quiet scene frozen in time, detached from the world rushing outside.
Y/N approached the table, sliding into the seat across from her.
Winter barely glanced up before speaking, her voice smooth, laced with the slightest hint of amusement. “You’re late.”
Y/N blinked, glancing at her phone. “I’m five minutes early.”
Winter smirked, finally looking at her fully, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Exactly. I’ve been here for ten.”
For a moment, Y/N just stared at her.
And then, before she could stop herself, she laughed.
It was a small thing, nothing extravagant, nothing loud, but it felt like the first real breath she had taken in days. Some of the tension in her shoulders, the weight pressing against her ribs since that disastrous dinner, began to ease. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
They started with economics, diving into topics that Y/N had expected to be mind-numbingly dull, supply and demand, market failures, the intricacies of elasticity. But Winter made it bearable.
She had a way of twisting even the most boring concepts into something absurdly funny, throwing in sarcastic remarks and offhanded analogies that made Y/N laugh more than she actually took notes. At one point, Winter compared monopolistic competition to a high school popularity contest “You think you’re special, but at the end of the day, you’re still competing with five other people for the same spot” and Y/N had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing too loudly.
For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overanalyzing every interaction, wasn’t waiting for something to shift beneath her feet. It was easy.
Then, somewhere between discussing oligopolies and price discrimination, Y/N noticed something.
Winter wasn’t paying attention. Not entirely, at least.
Because while Y/N had been scribbling notes in her textbook, Winter had been doodling in the margins of her own notebook, her neat handwriting fading into tiny musical notes, unfinished lyrics scattered between economic formulas.
Y/N tilted her head, watching the way Winter’s pen tapped absently against the paper, as if she were lost in another world entirely.
“You really don’t want to be here, huh?” Y/N mused, a teasing edge to her voice.
Winter let out a slow sigh, leaning back in her chair. “What gave it away?”
Y/N grinned. “The fact that you just spent the last ten minutes composing a song about opportunity cost.”
At that, Winter let out a quiet chuckle, tapping her pen rhythmically against the table. “It’s not a bad song, actually.”
Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it, then.”
Winter didn’t hesitate.
She merely smirked, her eyes meeting Y/N’s, holding her gaze for just a moment too long.
And then, she hummed.
It was soft at first, almost absentminded, a simple melody that rolled off her lips effortlessly, like it had been waiting to be sung. It was unpolished, wordless, but there was something about it, something delicate yet captivating, something that made the air between them feel just a little heavier.
Y/N froze.
Because for a second, just a second, she forgot.
Forgot about Karina, forgot about the ache in her chest, the lingering sting of being dismissed, forgot about every moment she had spent waiting for something that would never come.
In that instant, there was only this.
Only the girl in front of her, singing about opportunity cost like it was poetry.
Maybe this was what she needed. Not romance, not another emotional gamble that left her questioning her worth, not someone who would make her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.
Just someone steady, someone safe, someone who didn’t leave her drowning in uncertainty.
It wasn’t romantic. Not yet, but for now, it was enough.
Karina noticed immediately. She didn’t say anything, not at first. Not with words, anyway.
But Y/N felt it.
She felt it in the shift of the air whenever Karina entered a room, the way her presence became sharper, heavier, like a storm pressing against the edges of something fragile. She felt it in the way Karina’s eyes lingered too long, her stares colder, more calculating, filled with something unspoken, something dangerously close to unraveling.
Karina had always been collected, untouchable, unreadable, moving through life with an effortless grace that made it seem as though nothing could shake her. But now? Now, she was fraying at the edges.
It started small.
An irritated sigh when Y/N excused herself from their usual lunch table a little too quickly, claiming she had to finish up work on her project. A tension in Karina’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before, the way she tapped her fingers against her thigh in agitation whenever Y/N laughed at her phone a little too much. The sharp, clipped tone in her voice when she asked, almost too casually, "Who are you texting?"
At first, the others chalked it up to stress.
Midterms were approaching. Business meetings with her family’s company had been piling up, leaving Karina with even more weight on her already burdened shoulders. It was easy to assume she was simply dealing with pressure, after all, she was Karina Yu, the girl who carried expectations like armor.
But then it became clear.
Because the moment Winter’s name came up? Karina tensed, she would grip her pen too hard, look away too quickly, straighten her posture like she was bracing for impact.
The moment Y/N laughed a little too much at her phone, answered a text too eagerly, made an excuse to leave a conversation early? Karina would go silent.
Her expression wouldn’t change, not noticeably, at least, but there was a shift, a quiet yet undeniable pull in the air around her. Her jaw would tighten ever so slightly, her fingers curling against the table as if she were trying to suppress something before it could escape. She would press her lips together and pretend she didn’t care.
But everyone knew, because Karina was unraveling.
And one night, she broke.
They were at Karina’s apartment, the usual post-dinner hangout spot for their group. The others had already left, retreating back to their own lives, their own worlds, leaving behind only half-empty wine glasses and the distant hum of city lights filtering through the floor to ceiling windows.
Giselle had stayed behind.
She stood in the kitchen, casually leaning against the cool marble counter, watching as Karina sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched drink in front of her. She wasn’t drinking, she wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there, still as a statue, her thoughts tangled in something Giselle could already guess.
It had been a week of this. A week of Karina shifting between moods, of her icy exterior cracking, of her usual composure faltering just enough for those closest to her to see the storm underneath.
And Giselle, ever the observer, had finally had enough.
"You’re jealous."
Karina’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing instantly. "What?"
Giselle sighed, setting her glass down with an exasperated clink. She tilted her head, studying Karina like she was a puzzle missing just one crucial piece.
"You’re jealous of Winter."
For a split second, Karina didn’t react.
And then, a scoff. A small, humorless laugh, low and empty, as if the very idea was so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth entertaining.
"That’s ridiculous."
But Giselle wasn’t buying it.
She pushed off the counter, stepping forward, voice lowering slightly. "No, what’s ridiculous is how you’re acting."
Karina’s fingers curled into her palm, knuckles white against her skin.
"You’re shutting down," Giselle continued, crossing her arms. "You’re lashing out at people who don’t deserve it. You’re sitting here sulking instead of actually doing something about it." She arched an eyebrow. "It’s pathetic."
Karina scoffed again, shaking her head. "Y/N can be friends with whoever she wants."
"Friends?" Giselle let out a dry laugh, sharp and knowing. She took another step forward, pressing just enough to make Karina flinch ever so slightly.
"Yeah, sure. Because that’s all you two have ever been, right?"
Silence.
A silence so heavy it felt like it crushed the space between them.
Giselle leaned in, voice dropping to something almost gentle, though the weight of it was anything but. "She’s slipping away from you."
Karina’s jaw clenched. Her nails dug into her palm, pressing deep enough to sting.
She knew. She knew Y/N was pulling away, knew she was tired of waiting, tired of being led in circles, tired of holding onto something that Karina refused to define.
She knew, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop her, because if she admitted it, if she said the words out loud, then there would be no more hiding. No more pretending that Y/N wasn’t the only person who had ever made her feel like this, no more pretending that she didn’t want her, no more pretending that she hadn’t already fallen, long before she ever realized it.
And that terrified her.
Giselle exhaled, shaking her head, her voice turning softer, not out of pity, but something else. Something almost sad.
"If you’re not going to do anything about it, then let her go."
Another silence, another wound left open.
Karina didn’t answer, because the truth was, she wasn’t ready to let Y/N go. She just didn’t know if she was ready to fight for her, either.
Karina had spent years perfecting the art of control.
She had been raised to master it, to curate her image with precision, to hold her emotions under lock and key, to never let the world glimpse anything that could be used against her. She was composed, poised, untouchable. She dictated her own narrative, never allowing anyone to see her falter.
Her emotions did not rule her, she ruled them. At least, that had always been the case.
Until now, until Y/N and Winter.
She wasn’t sure when it started, when the cracks first appeared, when the tight grip she had on herself began to slip. She wasn’t sure when watching Y/N with someone else became unbearable, when the sight of Winter standing too close, speaking too softly, looking at Y/N like she was something to be treasured, started making her stomach twist in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. She wasn’t sure when she started feeling like this.
All she knew was that the first time she saw them together, really saw them, outside of class, it hit her like a slap to the face.
It was in the campus café, a place where she and the rest of the Power Group often lingered between lectures, occupying the best seats by the windows, their presence effortlessly commanding the space. They owned it in ways no one questioned, moving through it like it was simply another extension of their world.
Karina hadn’t meant to notice them.
She hadn’t been looking for Y/N, hadn’t been seeking her out, hadn’t been scanning the room like she always did or so she told herself.
But then she heard it.
Y/N’s laughter.
Not the polite kind, not the forced chuckle she used in social settings when she wanted to appear engaged, not the half-hearted giggle she offered in conversations she wasn’t actually interested in. But the real kind.
The kind that started soft before bubbling over, filling the air with something light, effortless, genuine. The kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners, made dimples appear on her cheeks, made everyone around her feel like they were in on some private joke. The kind of laughter that Karina used to think belonged only to her.
Her fingers froze around her coffee cup, grip tightening just slightly as she turned her head, too quickly, too sharply, as if drawn by something involuntary, instinctual.
And there they were. Y/N and Winter.
Sitting together in a booth by the far window, away from the usual noise of the café, caught in a moment that shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did.
Karina’s gaze locked onto them, drinking in the details before she could stop herself. Y/N, leaning forward slightly, her fingers brushing against Winter’s wrist as she grinned, Winter, smirking, eyes steady on Y/N, gaze unwavering, as if she were studying her, memorizing her.
Something hot, sharp, unfamiliar coiled deep in Karina’s chest.
Winter was looking at Y/N like she wanted her. Like she knew something no one else did, like she had already figured out what Karina had spent years running from.
Karina’s stomach twisted violently.
It was too much.
Before she even registered the movement, her body was already reacting, a sharp exhale, her hands gripping the table as she pushed back her chair a little too hard.
The sudden scrape of wood against tile was loud, cutting through the comfortable hum of conversation.
Too loud.
People turned. Her friends turned. Y/N turned and Karina didn’t meet her gaze.
She didn’t look at anyone, didn’t bother to smooth over the moment with an easy smile or an excuse, didn’t try to mask the fact that something was very, very wrong.
She just grabbed her bag, turned sharply on her heel, and walked out.
Not waiting, not explaining, not acknowledging the fact that she had never run from anything in her life. 
Until now.
“Karina?” Ningning called after her, blinking in confusion. “Where are you going?”
Karina didn’t answer.
She didn’t stop, she didn’t even know where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here. Because if she stayed, if she kept watching, if she let herself sit there for even a second longer, she would have to admit… She would have to admit what this really was.
The next time they saw each other was at Giselle’s apartment, an informal gathering meant to finalize the details of an upcoming event, something routine, something familiar, the kind of thing they had done so many times before that it should have felt effortless. It should have been just another evening spent in the comfortable presence of their closest friends, a seamless continuation of the rhythm they had all fallen into over the years, where conversations flowed easily, laughter came naturally, and unspoken tensions were carefully avoided.
But tonight, nothing felt easy.
Karina sat stiffly in her seat, her posture rigid, her fingers curled against the fabric of her pants as if she were physically restraining herself from reacting, from speaking, from looking at Y/N for too long. There was a restless energy simmering beneath her skin, an irritability she couldn’t shake, an ache she didn’t want to name.
She had spent the entire day trying to push down the lingering unease that had taken root in her chest, trying to convince herself that the image of Y/N and Winter laughing together at the café wasn’t burned into her mind, replaying itself over and over like a cruel reminder of everything she refused to acknowledge.
And yet, despite her best efforts, it followed her here.
It pressed against her ribs every time Y/N spoke, making her jaw tense involuntarily, the sound of her voice feeling too familiar, too distant all at once. It crawled up her spine whenever Y/N’s phone vibrated, whenever she glanced down at it with a small, knowing smile, fingers typing out a response that Karina knew was meant for Winter. It clawed at her patience every time Y/N reacted to something in the room that had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with them, and yet somehow still felt like a personal slight, like proof that Y/N had already begun to slip away, piece by piece, step by step.
She wasn’t sure why she thought this would be any different. She wasn’t sure why she had expected to sit across from Y/N tonight, in the same space they had always occupied, and not feel the weight of her absence in a way that felt devastatingly personal. She wasn’t sure why she thought she could handle this.
But then, Y/N said something, something lighthearted, something innocent, something that should have barely registered in Karina’s mind.
It was probably a joke. A passing comment.
Any other day, Karina would have laughed. Any other day, she would have let it slide, smirked, teased Y/N back, turned the moment into something fleeting and forgettable.
But tonight, her control snapped.
Her voice came out harsher than she intended, sharper, laced with something bitter and possessive, something she didn’t even fully understand herself.
“Well, maybe if you spent more time focusing on this instead of… other things, we’d actually get somewhere.”
Silence fell over the room in an instant, heavy and suffocating, the energy shifting so suddenly that it felt as though the walls themselves had shrunk, trapping them in the thick weight of unsaid things.
Y/N’s laughter, which had been so effortless just moments ago, vanished.
For the briefest of moments, she just stared at Karina, a flicker of surprise flashing through her eyes before something else took its place, something colder, something Karina had never been on the receiving end of before.
And then, Y/N let out a short, humorless laugh.
Slowly, she placed her phone down, fingers deliberate, controlled, as if she were holding herself back from doing something she might regret.
“Other things?” she repeated, her voice deceptively light, though the sharp edge in her tone was impossible to miss.
Karina shrugged, as if she wasn’t bothered, as if she wasn’t feeling the painful clench of something deep in her chest, something dangerously close to unraveling.
Y/N narrowed her eyes. She leaned forward slightly, gaze locking onto Karina’s, the space between them charged with something volatile, something that had been building for far too long.
“Say what you actually mean, Jimin.”
The air between them felt like a live wire, buzzing, waiting for one of them to ignite it.
Karina refused to look away.
She wasn’t sure if it was stubbornness or fear that kept her frozen, refusing to flinch, refusing to admit to the emotion clawing at her throat.
But then, Y/N scoffed. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, exhaling slowly, like she had just come to some final, quiet realization.
“That’s what I thought.”
The tension in the room grew unbearable.
From the corner of her vision, Karina could see Ningning shifting uncomfortably, glancing between them with wide eyes, sensing the shift in the air. Yeji pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose, exchanging a look with Ryujin, like they had been waiting for this to happen. Giselle, ever the silent observer, sat back against the couch, watching, waiting, as if she knew that whatever was happening between them was long overdue.
But Y/N wasn’t finished. Not yet.
She tilted her chin up slightly, her expression unreadable, though Karina could feel the underlying challenge in her gaze, the way she was silently daring her to speak, to do something, to admit something.
“You don’t get to do this.”
The words cut deeper than Karina expected, slicing through something she had spent years fortifying.
She already knew what Y/N meant.
You don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to be angry, you don’t get to act like you have a right to me when you refuse to claim me.
Karina’s expression remained carefully blank, but Y/N saw right through her.
She always did.
Then, Y/N spoke again, delivering the final blow, the one that hit Karina harder than anything else. “You want control, but you don’t want commitment.”
The words lodged themselves into Karina’s chest, burned beneath her skin, left behind something raw and unspoken.
Before she could stop herself, before she could regain her composure, before she could reinforce the walls that had been cracking all night, she flinched.
It was so quick, so slight, that no one noticed.
No one except Y/N.
For just a second, just a fleeting, painful second, her expression softened, but just as quickly, it was gone.
She inhaled deeply, as if grounding herself, as if settling into something she had already accepted long before this moment.
She stood up.There was no hesitation, no second glance, no waiting for Karina to stop her. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and turned toward the door and before anyone could react, before Karina could swallow her pride long enough to speak, before she could piece together the right words to fix what she had just shattered.
Y/N walked out.
And Karina?
She didn’t go after her. She never did.
245 notes · View notes