Characters/Ship: TWICE Momo/Sana Tags: heteronormativity is the enemy, what are we when the lights are off? Permission to Remix: Yes -
"He's a dream," says Sana, lying in Momo's bed. It's one in the morning; Sana had just come from a date with a guy she's been meeting for a month, and at this point it's tradition that she goes to Momo's apartment and crawls into Momo's bed to debrief. "He's kind, he helped an old lady with directions after we watched a movie together. And he's really cute, he has long eyelashes and he's tall, so there's really an appeal. He smelled really nice."
"You like him?" Momo asks, pressing her face deeper into the pillow they're sharing.
"I think I do," says Sana. Momo has heard her say that about different men, all of which she's called a 'dream.' She smiles up to her eyes as she says, "time was passing by so quickly with him, like a blur. It felt romantic."
"Do you want to kiss him?" Momo asks.
Sana's smile weakens. "Maybe not." She shifts closer to Momo, knees touching under their shared blanket. From this close the strong bridge of her pretty nose led straight to her lips. "Not yet, I mean. I need to be a little more sure."
"What would that mean?" Momo asks, angling her face to see Sana's in all its perfection. The angle of her cheekbones, the softness of her brown eyes, the long hair that framed it all so gently. Angelic.
When Sana doesn't answer, she sighs. "What is it?"
Sana doesn't speak. Instead she reaches forward, a cold fingertip finding its way to Momo's collarbone. "I still haven't found it," she says.
Momo shudders as the fingertip traces a line down to the collar of her pajama shirt. She lets Sana continue, tangling their legs together as Sana unbuttons the shirt all the way to the end.
Cold hands warm themselves on Momo's waist. Sana smooths her hands around, shifting closer so she can press herself to Momo's naked torso, the feel of her sleep shirt and smell of her laundry filling Momo's senses. "I'm still looking for the spark," Sana says, pressing their foreheads together. Momo has heard her say that about different men, all of which Sana had told they were better off as friends.
What Sana doesn't say out loud is that the only time she's ever felt the spark was when they were kids, when Momo kissed her for the very first time. Momo hears it loud and clear, though. Sana's eyes beg her to.
Sana once told Momo they were better off as friends, but it's Sana's lips that press to Momo's every single time.
[FILL] she's a dream
Tags: heteronormativity is the enemy, what are we when the lights are off?
Permission to Remix: Yes
-
"He's a dream," says Sana, lying in Momo's bed. It's one in the morning; Sana had just come from a date with a guy she's been meeting for a month, and at this point it's tradition that she goes to Momo's apartment and crawls into Momo's bed to debrief. "He's kind, he helped an old lady with directions after we watched a movie together. And he's really cute, he has long eyelashes and he's tall, so there's really an appeal. He smelled really nice."
"You like him?" Momo asks, pressing her face deeper into the pillow they're sharing.
"I think I do," says Sana. Momo has heard her say that about different men, all of which she's called a 'dream.' She smiles up to her eyes as she says, "time was passing by so quickly with him, like a blur. It felt romantic."
"Do you want to kiss him?" Momo asks.
Sana's smile weakens. "Maybe not." She shifts closer to Momo, knees touching under their shared blanket. From this close the strong bridge of her pretty nose led straight to her lips. "Not yet, I mean. I need to be a little more sure."
"What would that mean?" Momo asks, angling her face to see Sana's in all its perfection. The angle of her cheekbones, the softness of her brown eyes, the long hair that framed it all so gently. Angelic.
When Sana doesn't answer, she sighs. "What is it?"
Sana doesn't speak. Instead she reaches forward, a cold fingertip finding its way to Momo's collarbone. "I still haven't found it," she says.
Momo shudders as the fingertip traces a line down to the collar of her pajama shirt. She lets Sana continue, tangling their legs together as Sana unbuttons the shirt all the way to the end.
Cold hands warm themselves on Momo's waist. Sana smooths her hands around, shifting closer so she can press herself to Momo's naked torso, the feel of her sleep shirt and smell of her laundry filling Momo's senses. "I'm still looking for the spark," Sana says, pressing their foreheads together. Momo has heard her say that about different men, all of which Sana had told they were better off as friends.
What Sana doesn't say out loud is that the only time she's ever felt the spark was when they were kids, when Momo kissed her for the very first time. Momo hears it loud and clear, though. Sana's eyes beg her to.
Sana once told Momo they were better off as friends, but it's Sana's lips that press to Momo's every single time.