#( verse: path of acceptance )

[oceanicxeyes]

Plot: Walter’s nature as a siren is a secret from pretty much everyone but he isn’t necessarily opposed to the occasional mayhem and chaos when they are perfectly justifiable. Y/M caughts Walter in the act as he is preparing to potentially kill or at the very least seriously maim some petty criminals that had the audacity to try to rob him Open to: Mutuals &Non-Mutuals // established connection welcome HUMANS. Such brazen and pathetic little creatures. Hairless little apes that believed to be the top of the damn food chain when they were actually one step above bacteria. There was always someone who attempted to take what was not theirs. To go down the easy route and steal rather than work for it. Wasn’t that what humans had done to his home? Polluted the seas? Used it as a dumping ground for chemicals? Drilled into the ocean bed without caring one bit about what their actions could do? Always greedy. Always thinking solemnly about themselves and not giving a crap about the next person. And now they had the distinct audacity from trying to rob him. Petty little criminals, probably in their mid-twenties or so. What were the odds that they were part of some gang and wanted to make a name for themselves?

“Idiots.”

Walter sighed and crouched next to one of the assailants while the other was still grunting and holding onto his stomach after being kicked against a wall. “In what pathetic little excuse for an attempting robbery did you guys think this would work?” His expression was the opposite of his words. Serene. Calm. He didn’t even appear angry at all. He was just… bored. He had other places to be and instead, he was dealing with trash. “You picked the wrong person to mug.” Making a clicking sound with his tongue, Walter looked over his shoulder to check on the one still grunting before turning all of his undivided attention to the one on the ground in front of him. “Maybe I should rob you instead. Or kill you. Jury’s still out on that one really.”

[incendiorum]

io after accepting venadeus viii's proposal has... significant issues with not really believing they're alive again. in a way, they're not - they've become a concept. the moment they became a god they stretched infinitely forwards and backwards. the last scar they'll ever get is the one that killed them, knotted and ugly and never fading. io clings to the last vestiges of humanity as much as they try to embrace their divinity. the resurrection isn't easy. the idea of being dead for a length of time isn't easy. io comes to in a body that can feel the utter agony of it all. a hundred new sensations (can feel it all happening all at once and everywhere and how do you turn awareness of everything you are off?) and it's impossible to even tell if there's breath in their lungs or if their heart is beating and oh, yes they weren't breathing and they just remembered how and it hurts. but do they even need to? io clings to the last shreds of humanity, but humanity wasn't even really theirs to begin with. was living ever really theirs, too?

[svt-luna]

let me start by saying I absolutely love your creativity and story telling! Your Luna pieces are so refreshing and I look forward to reading them!!

We have seen a jealous Jeonghan, and I was hoping we could see the jealous side of Luna. As much as I love an unbothered queen, I think it would be interesting to see how she would react in a jealousy situation.

𝜗℘ THE BOY IS MINE

❛ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 ��𝘰 𝘮𝘦— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. ❜

timeline: 2023

synopsis: In the city of love, Luna finally snaps and learns just how far she’ll go to protect what’s hers.

warnings: 18+ mdni, mature content, sexual content, smut, cursing, possessive!Luna, angry!Luna, Luna’s self-conflicting thoughts, sexual tension, flirting, subtle innuendos, alcohol consumption, kisses!, pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex (girly pop is on birth control), teasing, dirty talk, dry humping, riding, degradation, edging, Jeonghan the menace, Jeonghan’s desire to be possessed, lowkey toxic, a little bit of a red flag for the both of them, they are both freaky af, pure filth!

thank you so so much for loving my works! also, thank you for requesting this, i absolutely fell in love with this idea— i have also been getting a lot of possessive!Luna and angry!Luna requests so i have mixed all of those ideas here. plus, you guys voted for a smut for this one on my last poll… so here it is! so i hope you lovely humans enjoy it!!

‘freak like me, you wanna good girl that does bad things to you.’ that reminds me of them.

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. It is intended for adult readers only. If you are under the legal age or find these subjects uncomfortable, it is advised for you to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

There was a quiet shadow that hovered over Luna.

It had been there for as long as she could remember— silent, unseen by others, but always present. It wasn’t something she could simply brush away or ignore, no matter how much she tried.

At first, it had confused her, this weight that pressed down on her chest, something that tugged at her insides, tightening like a vine when certain people or situations crossed her path. But over the years, she had learned to understand it, control it, and accept it as a part of her personality.

It wasn’t something to fear— just a quiet burden she had grown used to carrying.

Luna remembers the first time she noticed that quiet shadow.

She was seven years old, back in Kensington, London. Her memories of that time are vivid— her mom, graceful and elegant, the very image of a ballerina, guiding her students with precision and patience. Luna’s mom had once been a professional ballerina, but after an injury ended her dancing career, she became a ballet teacher, molding the next generation of dancers.

She was who Luna aspired to be, her biggest inspiration. Luna loved ballet because of her mom. It was her way of connecting with the person she admired most, the person she wanted to be like— this was before music had stolen her heart before she dreamed of stages and lights and becoming an idol.

One day, during one of their ballet classes, Luna sat at the edge of the dance floor, her small hands gripping the bar as she watched her mom in the middle of the studio. Her mother was focused, and poised, her sharp eyes tracing the movements of each student as they worked through their routine. But that day, her attention was particularly fixed on one new student— Mila.

Mila was good. Even Luna had to admit that. Her lines were sharp, her movements fluid in a way that most of the other girls in the class couldn’t quite replicate.

Luna’s mom corrected her form, praised her posture, and used her as an example for the rest of the class. She wasn’t biased— Luna’s mom would never show favoritism just because Luna was her daughter. She was a professional, and Luna understood that, even at seven.

Luna didn’t expect her mom to treat her differently from the other students, nor did she want her to. She wanted to earn her mother’s praise the same way everyone else did.

And yet, something about that day sat uncomfortably with her. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t even jealous that Mila was getting all of her mom’s attention.

Luna understood why.

Mila deserved the praise. She was graceful and talented. It made sense that her mom would focus on her. Luna could see that clearly.

But what bothered her was how Mila seemed to cling to her mom, how she wouldn’t leave her side after class ended. She followed her, asking questions, seeking more help with this step or that turn.

It wasn’t the attention itself that made Luna’s heart twist— after all, her mom was the teacher. It was her job to help the students.

Luna understood that, too.

But then, Mila had called her “Mom.”

That was the moment Luna met the shadow.

The quiet shadow that curled inside her, wrapping around her chest like a creeping vine, tightening, making her feel… strange.

She wasn’t mad, not really.

She knew her mom was just doing her job. But hearing Mila call her “Mom” made something inside Luna snap, something she didn’t fully understand yet.

It wasn’t jealousy— it was something different, more deeper.

An anger she hadn’t known existed until that moment.

How dare she? How dare Mila try to claim something that wasn’t hers?

Luna sat there, frozen in place, watching as her mother gently corrected Mila’s posture, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside her daughter.

It was in that quiet moment, with Mila standing so close to her mom, that Luna realized she didn’t want to share.

Not her mother.

Not ever.

Luna remembered how ashamed she had felt for feeling that way.

Even as a child, it hadn’t made sense to her— this sudden, overwhelming wave of anger that had no real direction, no clear target.

It was Mila, but it wasn’t Mila’s fault.

It was her mother, but her mother had done nothing wrong.

The feeling that had curled up in her chest was irrational, something she couldn’t place, and she hadn’t liked it.

Not at all.

Luna hadn’t understood it at the time, but the way it made her skin prickle and her stomach tighten was something she wanted to forget.

She had ignored it, pushing it down deep where she wouldn’t have to face it, wouldn’t have to explain it to herself.

Because how could she? How could she explain a feeling so ugly, so selfish?

She had done nothing about it that day. She had simply sat there, forcing a smile when her mom looked over, her small hands clenched into fists behind her back as she tried to shake off the knot in her throat. And she had told herself it was a one-time thing.

Just a bad day.

She thought she had been tired, maybe hungry, even sick— anything to explain away the strange feelings she couldn’t put words to.

That was it, Luna had thought. She was just having a bad day, and the odd tension in her chest would pass by tomorrow.

But it hadn’t.

Every now and then, when Luna least expected it, that quiet shadow would resurface.

It wasn’t constant— thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to deal with every day. But every once in a while, when someone tried to take or claim something that was hers, the feeling would crawl back into her mind, winding itself around her thoughts like it had all those years ago.

It was subtle and quiet in a way that made it easy to dismiss, but it was there.

Luna could feel it, simmering just beneath the surface.

It could be small things— someone borrowing her Barbie doll without asking or someone stealing her answers in school. Or it could be bigger moments, like when she noticed a friend growing too close to someone she cared about, or when someone new joined a group and immediately seemed to click with people she had known for years.

The feelings were rare, but they came.

And when they did, Luna would find herself reacting in the same way.

She would feel her face flush, red creeping up her neck, and a tightness would settle in her chest. Her gaze would harden, and she’d find herself glaring before she could even stop herself. Her eyes would burn, locking onto the person who had unknowingly triggered that shadow to stir.

But she never did anything about it.

Never once.

Luna was good at brushing it off, pretending it didn’t matter because she knew better. She was logical, rational. She prided herself on being someone who didn’t let her emotions control her. So she never let it show, never let it become something more than a fleeting thought.

Her mind would scream, her heart would pound, but outwardly, she remained composed.

Calm.

Luna never let herself act on it, because she was a good person.

She didn’t lash out, didn’t make a scene, especially not for something so petty. She told herself that it was her problem, not theirs. No one else seemed to notice these things— no one else saw a threat where she did.

It was all in her head, this quiet burden that only she carried.

However, there was only one person in existence who ever seemed to notice this shadow that clung to her, silent and unyielding.

And that was none other than Yoon Jeonghan.

Jeonghan had always been exceptionally good at reading people, an uncanny talent for seeing beyond the surface.

With Luna, though, it was different— he didn’t just read her, he understood her in a way that made her both comforted and unnerved.

He never asked too many questions, never pried, but the way he looked at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking, was something she could never quite shake.

It was during her trainee days at PLEDIS when Luna first realized just how much Jeonghan could see her— really see her.

She was sixteen, and the bright green walls of the infamous training room, known as the ‘Melona Prison,’ loomed around her and the rest of the trainees.

Boys and girls, all in their teens, filled the space, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the mirrored walls. It was another long day of practice, but as usual, they managed to steal moments to goof around, to release the tension building up from endless hours of training.

Jeonghan had been her closest friend back then.

Her best friend.

And she was his.

They were inseparable, the two of them gravitating toward each other with an ease that made everyone else assume they had known each other for years, when in reality, they had only met a few months prior.

Jeonghan had always been Luna’s safe place, the one person who could coax a laugh out of her even when she felt like she was drowning in exhaustion.

But on that particular day, Luna felt something stir inside her, something familiar yet unwanted.

She was sitting against the wall, catching her breath while the others horsed around, when her eyes drifted toward the far corner of the room.

There, Jeonghan stood, his back to her, talking to one of the female trainees— Seoyeon. They were close— closer than Luna liked, though she told herself it didn’t matter.

Jeonghan was charismatic, naturally friendly with everyone, and she had no reason— no right— to feel anything but indifference toward the scene playing out before her.

And yet.

Luna’s gaze sharpened when she saw him lean down, his hand coming up to playfully squeeze Seoyeon’s cheeks. She watched as the girl laughed, a bright, carefree sound that seemed to cut through the room. Jeonghan grinned at her, the way he always did, that smile of his that could disarm anyone in seconds.

Luna felt it again.

That tightening in her chest. The heat rushing to her face. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, her knuckles turning white as she stared at them.

She wasn’t mad.

She wasn’t jealous.

She had no reason to be.

Jeonghan was her best friend, and she knew how he was.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

And the trainee— she was just enjoying his attention.

Luna understood.

She understood perfectly well.

But why, then, was she so angry?

Jeonghan’s eyes flicked toward her then, catching her in her quiet storm. His gaze lingered on her for just a second too long before a grin spread across his face.

It didn’t even take him a moment to read her— he had known instantly, like he always did.

Leaving Seoyeon, Jeonghan strolled over to where Luna sat, his expression lazy, amused. He dropped down beside her without a word, his shoulder brushing against hers, and with that same teasing smirk, he reached out and squeezed her cheeks just like he had done to Seoyeon.

“Nana-ya,” he sang in that lilting, sing-song voice of his, his eyes twinkling with that hidden understanding that made Luna’s heart stop for a moment.

That’s when it clicked.

After years of brushing off that quiet shadow, after years of pretending it didn’t exist, Luna finally understood.

She had met this shadow before, but it wasn’t until now— until this exact moment, with Jeonghan sitting next to her, arm slung lazily around her shoulders— that she realized what it was.

Luna wasn’t jealous.

She had never been jealous.

As she sat there, Jeonghan’s presence steady beside her, watching the other trainees continue to fool around, Luna’s mind whirred with realization.

Luna didn’t want to be Seoyeon, just like she hadn’t wanted to be Mila all those years ago. She had no desire to trade places with them, to be in their shoes.

That wasn’t the problem at all.

No, what bothered her— what had always bothered her— was seeing someone else take what was hers. Watching them try to claim something that belonged to her, something she held dear.

It wasn’t envy.

It was never about wanting what someone else had.

It was about protecting what was already hers.

Jeonghan gave her a knowing glance, his arm tightening slightly around her shoulders, and that was all it took.

In that moment, Luna understood.

The shadow she had known since she was a child wasn’t jealousy.

Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours.

Possessiveness, however, was not wanting anyone to take what already belonged to you.

And Luna was possessive.

If jealousy is an ugly green friend, Luna’s friend was possessiveness, a quiet shadow, always hovering close, guarding fiercely and pulling tightly at whatever it holds dear.

Possessiveness.

The word tasted bitter in Luna’s mind, like something dark and twisted that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

She despised it.

Even the sound of it in her thoughts made her skin crawl.

Possess.

It was a word meant for things— objects, items you could hold, keep, or claim as your own.

But not people.

People weren’t possessions.

They weren’t things you could control, own, or dictate.

And yet, she felt it— deeply.

From time to time, that ugly shadow would wrap its fingers around her chest, tightening with every breath until she felt suffocated by it.

It was a feeling she had grown to hate.

Luna didn’t want to possess anyone.

She never wanted to be the kind of person who clung to someone so tightly that it hurt.

People weren’t objects to own. They had their own lives, their own choices, their own freedom. And yet, the shadow— her shadow— didn’t care about that. It didn’t care about logic or reason. It only cared about keeping what was hers close, about holding on so fiercely that no one else could ever take it away.

Luna hated it.

She found it toxic, the way it crept up on her, curling around her like smoke, impossible to escape. There were moments when the feeling would rise up in her chest like a wave, threatening to crash over everything she held dear.

But Luna always fought it. She had to.

She would remind herself that this wasn’t who she wanted to be, that people were not things to be controlled or claimed. Every time that feeling surfaced, she forced herself to ground it, to bury it deep inside where it couldn’t reach anyone else.

It was her burden to bear.

Even now, sitting in that green training room, the feeling flickered in her veins like an old, unwelcome memory.

Luna could feel it watching her, that quiet shadow, as Jeonghan laughed with someone else, as his hand touched someone else.

But she didn’t act on it. She never did. What would be the point?

Jeonghan wasn’t hers, not in the way that word implied. He was her best friend, sure, but she had no claim over him. No right to feel this way. So, she ignored it. She always did. She let the feeling settle somewhere in her chest, a familiar ache she was used to managing.

But deep down, Luna knew she couldn’t control when it would show up. And every time it did, she made sure to ground herself, to force herself not to react. To breathe through it until the feeling passed.

She never wanted to be ruled by it.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan, still sitting beside her, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth was steady and reassuring, but it was also a reminder— a reminder of the one person who could make her feel this way.

Jeonghan had always been the one who stirred something different in her, something she couldn’t quite explain. He was her closest friend, yes, but he was also the person who made her feel like this shadow had more power than it should.

And unbeknownst to sixteen-year-old Luna, at that very moment, the person who would make her feel the weight of this shadow more than anyone else for more years to come was sitting right next to her.

Yoon Jeonghan.

It was him.

It had always been him.

Jeonghan was Jeonghan.

There was something undeniable about him, something that people couldn’t help but notice.

He had the look— handsome in that effortless way that didn’t need to be flaunted. But “handsome” didn’t even cover it.

No, Jeonghan wasn’t just handsome.

He was beautiful.

Strikingly, impossibly beautiful.

His features were delicate but sharp, almost ethereal in a way that made Luna think, God, he’s beautiful every time she looked at him. But that wasn’t what made him special.

Jeonghan’s beauty was simply the surface of something much deeper.

He was naturally easy to be with. Effortless. Comfortable. People gravitated toward him, not just because of how he looked but because of how he made them feel. Jeonghan had a way of making anyone feel seecn like they mattered, like they were worth his time. He was charming, of course, but it was never forced. It was natural, something that seemed to come from him without any effort.

People just liked him, and it was no mystery why.

From their teen years in the cramped, fluorescent-lit practice rooms of PLEDIS to the bright lights of concert stages, from the endless hours of rehearsals to the long nights of sleepless training, Jeonghan had always been Jeonghan.

Their friendship had blossomed during those years, starting as something simple, easy, and natural. And from their trainee days to their debut, to their lives as successful idols, it had been the same.

The bond between them grew and deepened. The long hours spent together, the shared struggles and triumphs, the quiet moments in between it all— it was like they were always meant to find each other.

It had been gradual, a quiet blossoming from friendship into something more. It wasn’t a sudden realization for Luna. It was more like the slow unveiling of something that had been there all along, something neither of them had fully acknowledged until it became impossible to ignore.

And throughout it all, there was that strange feeling, the shadow lurking at the edges of her awareness.

Luna’s possessiveness.

Surprisingly, she realized early on that it didn’t apply to the members of SEVENTEEN, and thank God for that. When it came to them, Luna felt nothing but warmth, affection, and camaraderie. The idea of being possessive over her members felt absurd. They were family, an extension of herself in so many ways. She never minded when they were close with Jeonghan, never minded when they teased or hugged him.

And thankfully, it didn’t apply to the fans either. SEVENTEEN’s fans adored Jeonghan— of course they did. They loved him with a fervor that could only be described as awe-inspiring. And yet, when it came to them, that shadow never reared its head.

Luna felt nothing but gratitude toward them. In a way, they shared Jeonghan, all of them basking in the warmth of his presence, and that was fine.

It never bothered her.

For a long time, Luna thought maybe that strange feeling had disappeared altogether like she had outgrown it— an awkward teenage phase she’d left behind. She thought maybe she had matured, evolved past that irrational emotion, and put it to rest.

Until it showed up again.

And it was always because of Jeonghan.

It always was.

Luna realized, as time went on, that the possessiveness wasn’t something she’d outgrown.

It was just lying in wait, dormant, until the right circumstances stirred it back to life. And those circumstances always revolved around Yoon Jeonghan.

Even before they were officially together, Luna would noticed it.

Little moments that seemed harmless on the surface, but made that old familiar feeling stir within her chest. New staff members, stylists, random people who crossed their paths— everyone seemed to be drawn to Yoon Jeonghan like a magnet.

Luna would watch it happen, time and time again, seeing the way people gravitated toward him, and how they lit up when he flashed that effortless smile.

And each time, that shadow would bloom out of thin air, wrapping its fingers around her tightly.

It would start in her chest, a subtle tightening she tried to ignore. But then, she’d feel her face flush, heat creeping up her neck, and her hands would ball into fists in her lap. Her jaw would clench, and that sharp glare would settle in her eyes. She would sit there, watching, fighting the urge to do anything about it, because what could she do?

It wasn’t like Jeonghan was doing anything wrong.

He was just being Jeonghan.

But every time someone flirted with him— especially when it was right in front of her— that shadow flared, dark and consuming.

And it only got worse once they were officially together.

Once Jeonghan became hers in the way that mattered, the possessiveness grew more potent, more intense.

Luna had always prided herself on being rational, on keeping her emotions in check. But when it came to Jeonghan, there were moments when that possessiveness felt like it might consume her whole.

It wasn’t the members. She was perfectly fine with them. They were family. She trusted them with everything, including Jeonghan. And the fans— she never felt threatened by their love for him. They were a part of their lives, an integral part, and she shared in their adoration of him.

But when it came to other people— people who didn’t know him like she did, people who only saw him as that beautiful, charming idol— Luna could feel that shadow rise up in her like a wave, ready to crash down and smother everything in its path.

The new staff who whispered about him, the random stylist with a too-long gaze, the brief interactions with people who clearly had crushes on him— it all drove her insane.

And Jeonghan… Jeonghan, being the person he was, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did notice, and he simply didn’t care. He’d smile that lazy, mischievous smile, charm them without even meaning to, and Luna would sit there, her blood simmering beneath the surface.

Luna hated it.

She hated the way it made her feel, the way her emotions spiraled out of control when it came to him.

Because it wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy. Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours. Luna didn’t want what she didn’t have.

She just didn’t want anyone else to have what was already hers.

When other people gawked at Jeonghan, whispered about him, had crushes on him, and flirted with him—especially when she was right there— Luna felt like she could lose it.

The shadow inside her, that friend she’d grown so familiar with, would flare to life, ready to guard what was hers, to protect it fiercely from anyone who dared come too close.

She wasn’t jealous. She was possessive. And there was a difference.

Jeonghan was hers, and no one else’s.

Luna hated thinking this way.

She despised the possessiveness that clawed at her insides, wrapping around her chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

It wasn’t who she wanted to be.

She didn’t want to be the kind of person who felt like she had to hold onto someone so tightly as if they might slip away if she let go for even a second.

People weren’t possessions, least of all Jeonghan. She knew that. She reminded herself of it constantly. He’s not an object. He’s not your property.

But despite her best efforts, that gnawing feeling never truly left.

Every time someone got too close to Jeonghan, every time someone lingered in conversation with him a little too long, every time eyes wandered over his beautiful face and easy smile, Luna felt it stir again. And God, she hated it. She hated that it made her feel this way, irrational and out of control.

And yet, no matter how hard Luna tried to mask it, to suppress it, she could tell— Jeonghan could tell.

Jeonghan always knew.

He could read her like a book, his favorite book, in fact.

Luna could see it in the way his eyes would find hers when she was glaring at whoever had decided to flirt with him.

He never looked surprised or confused. No, Jeonghan knew exactly what she was feeling, and even more, he enjoyed it.

That was the thing about Jeonghan.

He was a mischievous tease to the core, always playing around with people, always stirring up trouble just to see what would happen. He enjoyed the chase, the thrill, the challenge.

And Luna? She was his favorite challenge.

Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t doing it on purpose— not in the way that would hurt her.

He wasn’t cruel— he loves her too much.

He would never actually flirt with someone else to provoke her or make her feel insecure. He wouldn’t do that to her, and Luna knew that deep down. But there was something about the way he reveled in her possessiveness, in the way she reacted to it, that made her blood boil even more.

Whenever that familiar tension rose between them, whenever she was on the verge of snapping, Jeonghan would always, without fail, baby her. He’d get more clingy, more affectionate, more of a tease as if he was purposefully testing her limits. His voice would drop into that soft, teasing tone, laced with a kind of condescending flirtation that only he could pull off.

He’d speak in that sing-song voice he reserved just for her, leaning in close with a playful grin, the words dripping with an infuriating sweetness that made her want to both kiss him and strangle him at the same time.

“Aww, is someone getting a little upset, hm? You know there’s no need for that, pretty girl,” he’d coo, the endearment rolling off his tongue like honey.

Or worse: “What’s the matter? You know you don’t have to worry, baby. No one else could ever take me from you,” he’d say, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against her ear, his tone dipping lower. “Only you, baby.”

And then there was the one that always pushed her the hardest, the one that made her breath catch in her throat every time: “You look so cute when you’re mad, you know that? Like a little kitten, all puffed up. What are you going to do about it, hmm? Just glare at me all day?”

Luna’s glare was sharp, piercing through the teasing words that dripped from Jeonghan’s mouth. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the familiar flush of frustration mingled with that damned possessiveness.

His words always had a way of igniting something deep within her, something she despised but couldn’t fully control.

Jeonghan, of course, noticed. He always did.

He leaned down, his lips still curled into that maddeningly soft smile, one hand reaching out to cup the back of her neck. His fingers were warm, and the touch, though gentle, sent a shiver down her spine. He held her there, not tightly, but just enough to make her feel trapped in that moment, in his presence.

Jeonghan nudged his nose against hers, brushing their foreheads together as he tilted his head. His voice dropped to that low, teasing tone that he knew got under her skin. “My moon,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her lips, “you know I’d never get taken from you, right?”

His thumb stroked lightly at the base of her neck, his grip softening as if lulling her into a sense of security. “They’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” His lips were so close now, almost brushing against hers, his gaze locking onto her eyes, studying the irritation simmering in them, the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a snarl.

But there was that underlying tone again, that subtle challenge woven into his words, as though he was daring her to act, daring her to stop pretending she could ignore it. He leaned in just a fraction more, his lips ghosting against hers without quite closing the distance.

“No one can compare to you, baby,” His voice lowered even more, a whisper now, intimate, taunting. “You should show them that, hmm?”

The words hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown at her feet. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her neck, not forceful, but just enough to remind her of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, within reach, hers to hold onto if she wanted.

His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous spark, the one that always set her on edge. “What’s it going to be, Nana-ya? Are you just going to keep glaring at me?” His voice softened, but the challenge lingered. “Or are you going to show them?”

The way he said it, like a coo, like a teasing dare, made her blood simmer even more. He was pushing her, testing her limits again, and he knew it. He was always so sure of himself, so confident that no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure, he could make her unravel.

There was always that underlying tone in his voice, that unspoken dare woven into his words like he was tempting her— pushing her to do something about it.

No, scratch that… Jeonghan wanted her to do something about it.

He was daring her to let that possessiveness out, to stop holding back, to give in to the anger simmering beneath the surface.

And Luna hated how much she wanted to. She hated that part of her wanted to rise to his challenge, to make it clear to everyone that Jeonghan was hers and hers alone.

But she never did.

Instead, she would just glare at him, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought the urge to snap. She’d take a deep breath, then another, and force herself to look away, to move on, to push the emotions back down where they belonged. She refused to give in to it, no matter how much Jeonghan taunted her, no matter how much his teasing made her want to lose control.

She never let it take over.

Jeonghan knew this about her, though. He could see through her every time, peeling back the layers of her composure with a single glance. She thought she was doing a good job of keeping it together, of staying calm, but Jeonghan could always tell what was really going on beneath the surface. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and he knew, too, that she wasn’t going to act on it.

Not yet, at least.

And that amused him.

Unbeknownst to Luna, Jeonghan enjoyed the game just as much as she feared it.

He found her possessiveness endearing, almost charming in a way, because it was so unlike her usual composed self. It was a side of her that only he got to see, a raw vulnerability that she kept hidden from the rest of the world.

And Jeonghan, with his sly smile and ever-calculating mind, wanted her to act on it.

He wanted to see what would happen if she let go if she stopped holding back and let that fiery possessiveness take over. He wasn’t afraid of it; in fact, he reveled in it. He knew how much it frustrated her, how hard she worked to keep it in check, and it thrilled him to push her just enough to see her struggle with it.

Because Jeonghan always got what he wanted in the end.

Always.

And what he wanted was for Luna to stop fighting it.

Jeonghan wanted her to let go, to show him how much she cared, how much she hated seeing other people fawn over him, how much she wanted to claim him in front of everyone.

He knew she could do it, and he was going to get her there.

He always did.

Then, Jeonghan finally got his way.

It finally happened in Paris, of all places.

Jeonghan always knew how to push her buttons, but Luna had never truly snapped before. She always found a way to hold it together, to remind herself that he was his own person, that she couldn’t— shouldn’t— be so possessive.

But Paris, with its old-world charm, its elegant streets and glittering lights, became the stage where everything came undone.

They had flown out for Fashion Week 2023, the pinnacle of their already busy schedules. Jeonghan, being the brand ambassador for Yves Saint Laurent, was the centerpiece of their show, while Luna, as Miu Miu’s ambassador, would be attending their event.

Their schedules aligned but diverged, each pulled into their separate orbits by the fashion world’s demands.

Everything had been normal up until that point.

Well, as normal as it could be for two idols navigating the storm of fame, fashion, and flashing cameras.

The flight to Paris had been peaceful. The two of them sat side by side, hidden behind the anonymity of first-class curtains, though they didn’t really talk much— both too absorbed in resting in preparation for their individual roles in the whirlwind that was Fashion Week. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a sense of routine, of being used to this kind of life.

When they landed, they were whisked away to separate fittings— Jeonghan heading toward the sleek, moody atmosphere of YSL’s atelier, while Luna was surrounded by the playful and elegant charm of Miu Miu.

They had exchanged texts throughout the day— small updates about their schedules, complaints about too-tight shoes, or a particularly exhausting interview, but they hadn’t seen each other much. The demands of Fashion Week were relentless, pulling them in different directions.

The day of Jeonghan’s YSL show came first. Luna didn’t attend— she was in the middle of her own preparations for Miu Miu—but she saw the photos. Jeonghan looked breathtaking, dressed in sleek black, with sharp lines and an effortless cool that sent waves through the fashion world.

The press and fans fawned over him and so did Luna.

Then came her own day— Miu Miu’s show. It was an entirely different vibe from YSL, more playful and eclectic, but Luna shone just as brightly. She reveled in the attention for a moment, feeling the pride that came with representing such a prestigious brand. But the busyness of it all kept them from each other again, just fleeting texts exchanged between interviews and fittings, always running parallel but never quite crossing paths.

Once their obligations were done, they finally had a few days off together. That was when they started playing tourist, doing all the things they rarely got to enjoy because of their packed schedules. Mornings were filled with museum visits— Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, and even the quirky and vibrant Centre Pompidou. They took photos for each other, snapping candid shots for their fans to see later, knowing these moments would end up on SEVENTEEN’s YouTube channel as part of their SEVENTEEN Records series.

Luna still remembered the way Jeonghan would lean into her as they walked through the narrow Parisian streets, his breath tickling her ear as he made quiet jokes, teasing her about how her coat looked too big for her— “You’re being swallowed whole, baby.” She had shoved him lightly, laughing at his antics, but the warmth between them was undeniable.

They were just two people, away from the madness of their lives for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.

Afternoons were spent shopping in the chic boutiques of Le Marais, where they wandered hand in hand, occasionally separating to browse different sections, only to reconvene with secret smiles and a few more bags to carry.

They tried on clothes, Luna teasing Jeonghan when he lingered too long in front of the mirror, and he returned the favor by commenting on how she had too many shoes already— though that didn’t stop him from buying her another pair.

It had been peaceful— normal, even— and for a moment, Luna thought that maybe she’d outgrown that old possessiveness. That shadow of possessiveness that once lingered at the edge of her thoughts felt distant. It seemed like an awkward phase she had passed, something she could leave behind in her teenage years.

But she should have known better.

Luna had told herself that possessiveness was something she could overcome, that it was just a phase from when their relationship was new and uncertain.

But now, she realized how wrong she had been.

That shadow had never disappeared— it had simply been lying in wait, simmering under the surface, lingering in the quiet moments between them, waiting for just the right moment to break free.

And Jeonghan knew it, he had always known it. He wanted her to let it out, to snap, to show just how much she wanted to claim him, no matter who was watching.

And, of course, it would all happen here, in Paris— the city of romance, the city that demanded passion in all things.

Their dinner was planned at an upscale restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets. They had reserved a private room to avoid the scrutiny of prying eyes, to keep the illusion of their relationship hidden for just a bit longer.

It was rare for them to have such an intimate setting in public, without the watchful presence of managers or bodyguards. Just the two of them, free to be themselves, free to let their guards down.

As they stepped inside, heads turned immediately.

There was no fanfare, no cameras flashing or crowds gathering around, but Luna and Jeonghan commanded attention just by their presence.

Tall and slender, both of them had an air of sophistication mixed with the slightest edge of danger, as if they didn’t quite belong in the same world as everyone else.

Luna’s long, wavy, blonde hair fell loosely behind her, framing her sharp features, and she was dressed entirely in black. A fitted black top tucked neatly into a black mini-skirt, accentuated with a thick black belt, thigh-high black boots that hugged her legs perfectly, and a long black leather coat that gave her an almost ethereal, otherworldly aura. She looked like she had stepped out of a noir film, every detail perfectly curated.

Beside her, Jeonghan was equally striking, his shoulder-length black hair framing his face in soft waves. He wore a black top that clung to his lean frame, black pants that accentuated his long legs, and polished black boots that added an extra touch of elegance. His long, dark coat fell in gentle folds around him, moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic.

As they walked in, the soft murmur of conversation in the restaurant quieted. Eyes followed them, some openly staring, others trying to be more discreet but failing to hide their curiosity.

A few older patrons, French locals enjoying a quiet meal, looked at them with a kind of bewildered fascination, as if trying to place them in some distant memory. They didn’t know exactly who they were, but there was something unmistakably famous about the two of them.

Younger diners, however, recognized them immediately. A few phones came out, subtle but visible, snapping photos and recording videos, capturing this rare glimpse of Luna and Jeonghan together.

But they weren’t worried.

Their fans were used to seeing them together; they knew how close they were, how often they appeared in public side by side, laughing and touching, their bond evident to anyone who watched.

Some fans were convinced they were dating, while others chalked it up to an unbreakable friendship.

The truth, of course, was the former— a truth that Jeonghan and Luna kept carefully guarded, shared only with their family and the members of SEVENTEEN. They knew all too well how the media could twist things, and they preferred to keep their relationship a cherished secret, just for them.

Luna stepped up to the maître d’, her expression neutral, almost cold at first, as she spoke softly. “Bonsoir,” she greeted, her voice calm and polite, her French accent carefully practiced. “We have a reservation under Bae Jiyeon.”

The maître d’ nodded, checking his ledger, clearly aware of the weight these two held, even without their entourage. As he glanced up, Luna allowed a small smile to break through her composed facade, a warmth that contrasted sharply with her intense gaze, and Jeonghan’s hand slipped to her back, a gentle but firm touch as he leaned in, listening.

“Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Bae,” the maître d’ replied, his tone respectful. “Right this way, please.”

Jeonghan gave the man a brief smile, a subtle flash of charm that was both polite and distant, a glimpse of the man he was when the cameras were on him.

The staff and patrons continued to watch as they were led deeper into the restaurant, a quiet murmur of whispers trailing behind them. There was a low hum of intrigue from the older patrons, and the younger ones, who recognized them, clutched their phones tightly, capturing every second.

The maître d’ guided them down a softly lit hallway to a secluded area, hidden behind dark, ornate doors. He opened one with a flourish, gesturing for them to enter. “Your private dining room, just as you requested. I hope you both enjoy your evening.”

Luna offered him a soft nod. “Merci.”

With a final nod from Jeonghan, the maître d’ closed the door behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the space, reflecting off the fine crystal glasses and polished silverware.

Luna settled into the plush velvet of the round booth, tucking her legs gracefully beneath the table as she took in the quiet ambiance around them. The dim lighting softened every edge, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room.

Jeonghan slid in beside her, his body close enough that she could feel his warmth without even touching. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat behind her, his hand resting on the cushion just inches from her shoulder, his fingers occasionally brushing the fabric of her coat as he settled in. It felt effortless, as if they belonged there, hidden away in their private world.

Luna picked up the leather-bound menu, her fingers running over the embossed gold lettering on the front before she opened it, eyes scanning the options. She was quickly absorbed in the list, flipping through each page with a quiet focus.

Jeonghan, however, didn’t even glance at his own menu. Instead, he leaned in, reading over her shoulder, his chin nearly brushing her temple as he followed her gaze.

“Not even going to look at your own?” she murmured, a playful hint in her voice as she kept her eyes on the page.

Jeonghan tilted his head, the hint of a smile curving his lips. “Why should I? I trust you to pick something good for me,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and lazy, his hand slipping a little lower on the cushion behind her. His thumb brushed against the back of her shoulder, a gentle, absentminded gesture as he spoke.

Luna gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she scanned the menu. “You say that now, but if I end up picking something you don’t like, you’ll be the first to complain.”

He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ll have any complaints if it’s coming from you,” he teased, the words slipping out like silk.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips as she focused back on the menu. “Alright, well… let’s see. For appetizers, there’s escargot, but I know that’s probably not something you’d enjoy.” She paused, glancing up at him with a knowing look.

Jeonghan made a face, feigning horror. “Snails? Really? Are you trying to test my love for you? I mean… I’d try for you.” He let out a soft laugh, his fingers brushing lightly against her hip where his hand rested.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just making sure,” Luna replied, a grin slipping through. “Alright, no snails for you, then. How about a charcuterie board? Some cheeses, cured meats… I know you like those.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes fixed on her face rather than the menu. “Sounds perfect. See? You know me so well.”

Luna flipped to the next page, detailing the entrees. Jeonghan’s hand moved subtly along the back of her seat, his fingertips tracing small circles against her coat’s fabric, eventually resting on her hip with a gentle, almost possessive hold. It was casual, natural, the way his touch lingered on her, as if he had every right to her space and she welcomed it without question.

She continued reading aloud, her tone calm and thoughtful. “For the main course, they have a classic coq au vin, which is chicken braised with red wine, mushrooms, and garlic. Or there’s a filet mignon with a red wine reduction sauce. I think you’d like that.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against her hip. “Mmm… I think you’re right. The filet sounds good,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr as he let her continue describing the dishes.

Luna flipped another page, her own shoulder relaxing under his gentle hold. “They also have bouillabaisse, which is a seafood stew. But I’m guessing you’re more in the mood for the filet tonight?” she asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smile.

Jeonghan nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy grin. “You always know what I want. Makes it easy for me,” he said, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly against her hip, a subtle reminder of his presence. “I’d be lost without you here to guide me through all this.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you’d manage just fine. But I’m happy to help.”

His hand stayed on her hip, his touch steady and familiar, as he looked down at her with an expression that was both playful and intent. “And I’m happy to let you,” he murmured, his eyes holding hers for a beat longer, a hint of challenge and warmth flickering in his gaze.

They exchanged an easy smile, the conversation flowing naturally, unhurried, as if this was exactly where they were supposed to be.

The small gestures between them— the gentle brush of his fingers, the quiet way she explained each dish— were all woven with the kind of comfort and intimacy that only came with time and understanding.

Luna didn’t mind his hand on her hip, didn’t mind his arm stretched behind her as if he owned that space around her. It felt right, his touch a steady reminder that he was hers and she was his, even here, in this quiet little corner of Paris where no one else needed to know the truth.

“So, filet mignon for you, then,” she said finally, closing the menu with a satisfied nod.

Jeonghan’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you say, my pretty moon.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with a warmth that made her heart skip.

As Luna settled back, the two of them sat in their shared silence, content, feeling the weight of their secret world cocooned within these four walls, away from prying eyes. For now, they had each other, the food yet to come, and the unspoken understanding between them— one that didn’t need words, just the simple, easy closeness they shared in these stolen moments.

The quiet murmur of the restaurant was briefly interrupted as the waitress finally entered their secluded corner, her gaze drifting from the notepad in her hand to the couple seated in the booth.

Luna looked up, ready to greet her with a soft, polite smile, but her expression shifted the moment she caught sight of the waitress’s lingering stare— one that didn’t even attempt subtlety as her eyes moved up and down Jeonghan, taking in every detail as though committing him to memory.

Luna’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the way the waitress’s gaze lingered on him.

She couldn’t blame her.

Jeonghan was striking, painfully so. His hair fell in loose, casual waves framing his face, his shirt collar open just enough to suggest sophistication and ease. His presence had a way of turning heads, and Luna was more than used to it by now— people stopped and stared at him every day. They did the same for her too, and in most cases, she brushed it off, almost amused by it.

But there was something different in the way the waitress was looking at him, something just a bit too bold, too unprofessional.

Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, a small, knowing smile on his face as he eyed Luna, his expression amused as if he could read every thought in her mind.

The cocky bastard was egging her on.

Luna shook her head, trying to dispel the initial irritation that had crept in, telling herself it was nothing. She didn’t need to let her imagination get the better of her.

It was probably nothing, just the standard reaction most people had to seeing someone as breathtaking as him.

She was better than this, Luna reminded herself. She wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions or judge someone so quickly. Her mother had taught her better than that.

She was a good person, a good girl, Luna repeated to herself.

Taking a breath, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at the waitress, offering her a renewed, polite smile. “Hi, we’re ready to order,” she said, her tone calm and measured.

The waitress finally pulled her eyes away from Jeonghan, glancing at Luna, but there was a flicker of something sharp, a hint of annoyance as she met her gaze.

It was subtle, almost too quick to catch, but Luna didn’t miss the way the waitress’s eyes hardened, the friendly mask slipping just enough to reveal something beneath it. Luna’s brows raised slightly in surprise, but she held her tongue, reminding herself to give the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe the waitress was just tired, or maybe she was having a bad day.

Luna forced herself to ignore it, smiling gently as she started to place their order.

“We’ll start with the charcuterie board,” she began, her tone steady as she listed the items they had discussed. “And for the main course, he’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare, with the red wine reduction sauce. And I’ll have the coq au vin.”

The waitress scribbled down the order without much acknowledgment, her expression indifferent as she glanced up, her attention sliding right back to Jeonghan with a warm, overly bright smile. Ignoring Luna entirely, she leaned in just a fraction, her eyes locking onto him with an intensity that made Luna’s jaw tighten.

“And what kind of wine would you like to have with your meal?” the waitress asked, her voice suddenly softer, more intimate. Her attention was so fixed on Jeonghan that it was as if Luna didn’t even exist.

Jeonghan, however, barely looked at her, giving a polite nod as he glanced at Luna, his silent way of deferring the choice to her.

“We’ll have the Bordeaux,” Luna said smoothly, her tone polite but firm, making it clear she was still there, still a part of the conversation. She offered a slight smile, determined to maintain her composure.

The waitress shot her a fleeting look, one that barely hid her disdain, before turning her attention back to Jeonghan. “And do you visit Paris often?” she asked him, her tone a little too friendly, a little too familiar.

Jeonghan blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, and gave her a polite but hesitant nod. “Sometimes… for work,” he replied in his choppy English, clearly trying his best.

Luna felt a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement tug at her as she watched Jeonghan struggle to answer. His attempts at English were always adorable, endearing in a way that only he could pull off, and it was something she had fallen for countless times.

But in this moment, watching the waitress’s smile widen with newfound interest, she felt a pang of irritation. It was as though every word out of his mouth only drew the waitress in deeper, her gaze growing more flirtatious, more determined.

The waitress leaned closer, a coy smile playing on her lips as she asked, “Are you a model? You look like you could be one.” Her voice held a breathy quality now, her eyes never leaving him.

Luna clenched her jaw, willing herself to keep her composure. She told herself to let it go, that the waitress probably didn’t know who they were, and maybe that was a blessing in disguise. But that didn’t make it any less irritating.

Jeonghan, however, remained unfazed, his face cool and relaxed as he replied, “Sometimes… we model.” His English was halting, but his tone was confident, and he let his hand drift to Luna’s thigh, his fingers resting there as he gave her a small, almost mischievous smile.

He was referring to both of them, making it clear that Luna was just as much a part of that world as he was.

The waitress’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of irritation crossing her face before she quickly recovered. “Have I seen you before?” she asked, her tone implying something more, her eyes flicking to Luna with a hint of challenge, as if daring her to respond.

Luna’s irritation spiked, but she forced herself to remain calm. Instead, she simply pulled out her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen as she began typing a message to Seungkwan, her fingers practically flying as she poured out her frustration. She knew Seungkwan would appreciate the gossip, and it was the only thing keeping her from doing something she might regret— like flipping the table.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan turned back to the waitress, his face a picture of casual indifference as he replied in his choppy English, “Probably with her… my girlfriend.” His tone was calm, almost bored, as he gestured to Luna with a slight nod, his hand still resting on her thigh.

Luna’s fingers froze mid-text, her eyes snapping up to side-eye Jeonghan.

A small part of her wanted to gush over how adorable his broken English was, how proud she was of him for managing to get the words out so smoothly. But her possessiveness was clouding everything else, making her focus on how risky it was for him to say that out loud, especially when they were supposed to keep their relationship hidden from the public eye.

Jeonghan, however, seemed completely unbothered, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he met her gaze, his expression filled with a knowing, almost smug amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he clearly didn’t care about the risk.

It was as if he was challenging her, daring her to react and do the same, all while maintaining that calm, cool demeanor.

They were so focused on each other, locked in a silent exchange, that neither of them noticed when the waitress huffed quietly and left the room, her frustration evident in her hurried steps as she disappeared back into the restaurant.

Luna let out a slow breath, feeling her irritation slowly melt away as she glanced down at Jeonghan’s hand still resting possessively on her thigh. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips as she looked back at him, shaking her head in quiet exasperation.

“You know, you didn’t have to say it like that,” she murmured, her voice soft yet teasing, her annoyance already forgotten.

Jeonghan simply shrugged, his smirk deepening as he met her gaze. “She needed to know,” he replied nonchalantly, his voice low and casual, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Luna crossed her arms, frustration evident as she glared up at Jeonghan. “What if she tells, Han?” she hissed under her breath, her voice a blend of worry and annoyance. “We’re gonna get in troub—”

But Jeonghan didn’t let her finish.

Before she could get another word out, he reached out, his slender fingers tilting her chin up with the gentlest touch, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. His gaze was intense, smoldering with a fire that seemed to flicker just for her. Her breath caught, heart stammering in her chest as the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk, equal parts mischievous and reassuring.

The kiss was fervent, searing, filled with a raw passion that took her by surprise.

Jeonghan's lips moved over hers with purpose, a demanding rhythm that left her struggling to keep up. He pressed closer, his hand sliding behind her head, fingers threading through her hair as he held her firmly in place. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in a surprisingly tender contrast to the urgency of his mouth on hers.

Luna's heart raced, pounding against her chest as she surrendered to the moment, her initial shock melting into a haze of sensation. She tried to match his intensity, but Jeonghan's fervor was relentless, his lips guiding hers in a way that left no room for hesitation. His mouth was warm and soft, but his kiss was anything but gentle-each movement a silent declaration, as if he was staking his claim, proving a point without a single word.

He angled his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his lips parting to invite her in, his tongue brushing teasingly against hers, coaxing her to respond. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, filling the small space between them with a dizzying sense of intimacy. Every touch, every brush of his lips, felt deliberate, designed to make her melt under his touch.

Luna's hands moved instinctively, grasping at his shoulders to steady herself as his kiss grew more insistent, more consuming.

Her fingers tightened against the fabric of his shirt, holding on as he continued to kiss her with a fervor that bordered on overwhelming. She could feel the strength in his hold, the way his hands held her close, anchoring her to him as though he couldn't bear to let her go.

Her mind spun, her senses flooded with him-the scent of his cologne, the softness of his hair brushing against her forehead, the heat radiating from his body as he pressed closer. The world around them faded, leaving only the taste of him on her lips, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips.

The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in this intimate bubble, a silent declaration of their connection.

Just when she thought she'd drown in the intensity of it all, Jeonghan's pace slowed, his lips lingering against hers in a series of softer, slower kisses, as if savoring the moment. His hand moved from her face to her jaw, thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheek, while his fingers splayed possessively along the back of her neck, keeping her close. His lips parted from hers just enough for them to share a breath, his forehead resting against hers as his eyes remained closed, as though he were still savoring the taste of her.

Slowly, he pulled back, his gaze meeting hers with a satisfied, almost smug gleam, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he observed her dazed expression. He didn’t let go of her face, his hands lingering, fingers tracing gentle circles along her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

“People will believe what they want to believe,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, each word wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “Our fans… they already think we’re together, and even if some don’t, it doesn’t change what’s real between us.”

His words were so matter-of-fact, his tone so calm, it eased something within her. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek, his gaze unwavering, steady and reassuring. “Besides,” he added with a little smile, “that waitress? She has no proof. She clearly doesn’t know who we are, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” He leaned back slightly, tilting his head to study her, as if gauging her reaction. “No one can touch us. Not here. Not like this.”

Luna felt her heart rate begin to slow, her body relaxing under the weight of his calm certainty. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to form a response, but Jeonghan was already there, cradling her face as though she were something delicate, precious. His fingers traced along her jaw, then down to her hands, where he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to each one. His lips were soft, feather-light as he moved from one finger to the next, then finally to the center of her palm, where he lingered, eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re too good for this world, my angel,” he murmured, voice filled with a gentle affection that left her chest feeling tight.

His words were soft, coaxing her like one would soothe a child, and somehow, despite her normally assertive, strong-willed self, she felt herself softening under his touch, the tension slipping from her shoulders as she let herself be pulled into the warmth of his adoration.

Only Jeonghan could make her feel like this— vulnerable, small, and cherished, all at once.

She pouted, her lips curving downward as she finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if she spits in my food?”

Jeonghan chuckled, a warm, deep sound that reverberated through her, and for a brief moment, his gaze softened even further, filled with a fondness that seemed to overflow. “Then we’ll switch dishes,” he replied, his tone halfway between serious and playful. “Or,” he continued with a slight smirk, his fingers still caressing her hand, “I’ll get her fired if you want.”

She gasped, swatting at his chest lightly. “Hannie!” she scolded, though her voice held no real anger, just the remnants of her lingering irritation mixed with a playful reprimand. “That’s mean!”

His smirk softened, morphing into a gentle smile as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a feather-light touch that was far less urgent than before, filled with a quiet reverence instead. “You’re an angel,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a hushed whisper as he pulled back just enough to look at her. “My pretty angel. Such a good girl.”

His words sent a rush of warmth through her, leaving her speechless, her face heating up at his doting tone. There was something about the way he was looking at her, the softness in his eyes, that made her want to melt, to let go of every worry and just stay here with him, lost in this moment.

As they settled back into their seats, Luna felt an almost tangible shift in the air between them. The kiss had left her dazed, a gentle flush still coloring her cheeks, and Jeonghan’s casual return to their conversation only added to the surreal nature of the moment. She found herself leaning into him, their shoulders brushing, her hand casually resting on his thigh beneath the table.

They spoke in hushed tones, laughter and soft smiles passing between them, as though they were in their own world where time moved a little slower, and the rest of the restaurant faded into the background.

Every once in a while, Jeonghan would reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, making her pulse quicken all over again. She responded by nudging him with her shoulder, pretending to be annoyed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

When their food finally arrived, it was the same waitress who reappeared, balancing their plates and the wine bottle with a practiced ease. Luna glanced up to thank her, but Jeonghan’s gaze was already fixed on the waitress, his expression carefully unreadable as he watched her approach. As she moved to set the dish in front of Luna, Jeonghan’s voice cut in smoothly, yet with a hint of something sharper beneath his polite tone.

“Here.” He pointed to the space in front of him, gesturing for the waitress to place Luna’s dish there instead.

The waitress hesitated, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face as she looked between the two of them. But she quickly masked it, her expression returning to the same blank professionalism she’d shown throughout the evening. She set the dish down in front of Jeonghan without a word, her gaze momentarily meeting his.

Jeonghan held her stare, searching for any sign of guilt or discomfort, any indication that she might have tampered with their order out of petty jealousy. But the waitress remained stoic, her demeanor calm and unbothered, which he noted with a slight nod of approval.

“Thank you,” Luna said politely, offering a small smile as the waitress set down her own dish and poured the wine. Jeonghan echoed her thanks with a subtle dip of his head, his attention already shifting back to Luna as the waitress left them in peace.

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Jeonghan reached across the table, nudging Luna’s plate toward her with a grin. “Well, I didn’t see any poison in it,” he murmured, his voice teasing, though the protective glint in his eye made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit ridiculous for her earlier concerns, yet touched by how quickly he’d picked up on her worries and how naturally he’d moved to reassure her.

They settled into their meal, casually swapping bites from each other’s plates. Jeonghan’s utensils found their way to her dish as often as her own did, a shared rhythm developing between them as they tasted each other’s choices. He’d lift a piece of food to her lips, his gaze warm and attentive, waiting for her reaction with a small smile. She’d make a face if it was something she didn’t particularly like, and he’d chuckle, offering her his glass of wine to wash it down.

“Here, try this one,” Luna said, holding out a forkful of her dish to him. Jeonghan leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers as he accepted the bite, savoring it with a small, appreciative nod. His hand found its way to hers on the table, his thumb idly tracing circles on her skin, grounding her in the intimacy of the moment.

The wine bottle sat between them, and they poured for each other in turns, watching the liquid swirl in their glasses before clinking them together softly. Jeonghan raised his glass, a playful glint in his eye. “To dealing with overly friendly waitstaff and stealing each other’s food,” he toasted, his smirk making her laugh.

“To stealing each other’s food,” she echoed, touching her glass to his, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her with each sip.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they enjoyed their meal, slipping into easy banter and shared glances, as though they’d done this a thousand times before. Each bite, each sip of wine, felt like a part of the dance between them—unhurried, comfortable, intimate. It was as if the restaurant around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them and the soft glow of candlelight illuminating their little corner.

By the time they’d finished eating, their plates nearly empty, they sat back in their seats, both satisfied and content. Jeonghan reached over, his fingers brushing a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth, his touch lingering as his eyes softened.

Luna’s heart fluttered, a smile playing on her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers lacing with his beneath the table. She felt a profound sense of gratitude and joy, as though every part of this night was a precious memory they were crafting together, one that would stay with her long after they’d left this place.

And as they sat there, basking in the quiet intimacy that had settled over them, Luna couldn’t shake the feeling that moments like this— moments that were simple, genuine, and filled with laughter and warmth— were what made everything worth it.

As dinner came to an end, Jeonghan signaled for the check, slipping his card to a new waiter without a second thought. They exchanged quiet smiles as they waited, still reveling in the comfortable intimacy that had blossomed over the evening. When the waiter returned, Jeonghan handled the payment swiftly, and with one last glance around the cozy, dimly-lit restaurant, they made their way out into the crisp night air.

The cab ride back to the hotel was quiet, but in a way that felt perfectly right. Luna rested her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her hand intertwined with his in her lap, their fingers loosely laced together. They didn’t need words; the warmth of his hand in hers and the faint thrum of the car engine beneath them were all they needed in that moment. It was as though the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the two of them and the soft hum of the city around them.

Once they reached their hotel, they navigated their way through the lobby, exchanging tired smiles as they waited for the elevator. By the time they reached their room, a gentle, lazy fatigue had settled over them, the kind that made them crave the cozy confines of their space together.

As soon as they were inside, Luna kicked off her shoes, the satisfying clack of her heels hitting the floor filling the room. She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap, before draping herself across the sofa with a sigh of relief. She stretched out, curling her legs up beneath her as she settled back, pulling out her phone and beginning to scroll lazily.

Jeonghan, meanwhile, slipped out of his own coat, his gaze drifting over to her as he hung it up. His eyes raked over her relaxed form, taking in the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her casual posture, the slight pout on her lips as she focused on her phone. He smiled, an affectionate warmth spreading through him as he crossed the room toward her.

Without a word, he settled beside her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently into his side. Instinctively, Luna leaned into him, snuggling up without looking away from her phone, her head coming to rest on his chest as she continued scrolling. Jeonghan watched her from above, a soft smile playing at his lips as he took in the way she fit perfectly against him.

They sat in comfortable silence, a quiet intimacy enveloping them. Some couples might have found this unproductive, or even a little boring, but for them, this was everything. This was where they were most at home, in the quiet spaces between words, in the shared stillness that felt like a world of its own. Both of them, introverted and often easily drained, found a sense of peace in simply being together like this, with no need for conversation or grand gestures.

Luna shifted slightly, curling up closer against him, her body fitting perfectly into the crook of his side. Jeonghan held her a bit tighter, his hand slipping up to run through her hair, his fingers combing gently through the soft, blonde strands. He removed a stray strand from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that was second nature by now.

Then, suddenly, Luna gasped, her body jolting slightly as she sat up, startling Jeonghan. His face remained composed, though his eyes widened a touch as he looked at her in surprise.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raising as he watched her.

“We forgot to eat dessert,” Luna pouted, her expression serious as though this was a matter of utmost importance.

Jeonghan blinked, and then his concerned look melted into one of pure, unfiltered fondness. His lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling as he watched her, a quiet chuckle slipping out.

“Aigo…” he cooed, slipping into his sing-song, babying tone. “What do we do? Hmm?” His voice held a teasing lilt, his gaze resting on her pout as if it were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

Luna huffed, still pouting as she glanced back at him, her eyes holding that familiar glint that told him she was about to ask for something. He waited, raising an eyebrow, letting the silence hang between them as if to say, Well?

“You want us to order room service?” Jeonghan asked, already knowing her answer.

Luna nodded, her eyes lighting up with a hopeful gleam as she met his gaze.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head at her fondly. “Alright.”

Her face lit up, a beaming smile spreading across her lips as she practically bounced off the sofa, following him to the small telephone on the desk in the corner of the room. She reached for the room service menu, flipping through it as Jeonghan hovered beside her, watching her with that same indulgent look.

“What do you want, Nana-ya?” he asked, his voice soft, playful.

“Cake,” Luna replied simply, her eyes still scanning the menu before she glanced up at him. “You?”

“We can share,” Jeonghan said with a grin, his eyes meeting hers as she nodded in agreement.

Satisfied, Luna picked up the phone, dialing the number for room service. As she waited for someone to pick up, she felt Jeonghan’s presence close behind her, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder. Then, without warning, he leaned down, his head nestling into the curve of her neck as he inhaled her familiar scent, the faint aroma of her perfume filling his senses.

“Room service, how can I assist you?” the receptionist’s polite voice crackled through the phone.

“Yes, hello,” Luna began, her tone polite and measured. “We’d like to order a dessert, please. Just a slice of your chocolate cake.” She paused, glancing at Jeonghan to confirm, and he gave a lazy nod against her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin.

As she spoke, Jeonghan’s lips found her neck, placing gentle, feather-light kisses along her skin, his face nestled in the crook where her neck met her shoulder. She could feel the soft brush of his hair against her cheek, the subtle scrape of his teeth as he teased her with a playful nip. She bit back a smile, her cheeks warming as she focused on the conversation with the receptionist.

“Yes, just one slice of the chocolate cake, please,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady as Jeonghan’s lips trailed lower, his hand wrapping around her waist as he held her close. He let out a soft, almost petulant whine against her skin, the sound vibrating through her neck, as though he was annoyed she wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Uh… yes, that will be all,” Luna finished, a hint of breathlessness creeping into her voice as she ran her fingers through his hair to appease him, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that made him sigh contentedly against her.

“Very well, it will be delivered shortly. Thank you,” the receptionist replied.

“Thank you,” Luna managed, before hanging up and setting the phone down with a soft exhale.

The dim light of the room cast a warm glow across Jeonghan's face as he and Luna held each other's gaze, a silent but magnetic pull between them. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail as if he was committing it to memory-the subtle curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes, the way her cheeks held a faint flush that only deepened as he looked at her.

And she, in turn, scanned his face with equal intensity, noticing the playful glint in his eyes, the slight tilt of his lips that hinted at his next move.

"So," Jeonghan began in a low, teasing murmur, "you think dessert was really worth interrupting our time alone, hmm?"

Luna smirked, shrugging in that casual, flirtatious way of hers. "A girl has her priorities," she quipped, her voice as cool as her expression, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And it's not my fault you dragged me out of the restaurant early."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to fill the room and reverberate through her chest. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Oh, is that right? I'm the one to blame?"

She tilted her head back to maintain eye contact as he advanced, her posture cool and composed, though her heart was racing beneath her calm facade. "If you have something to say, Hannie," she teased, her voice just above a whisper, "you should say it instead of just staring."

He arched a brow, clearly amused. "Maybe I'm saying plenty... without words."

Their banter flowed with ease, layered with unspoken tension, each word a deliberate nudge in a game neither wanted to end. As he took another step, Luna found herself instinctively moving back until her legs bumped against a chair, forcing her to sit.

She watched him intently, eyes wide and breath held as he loomed over her, one hand braced on the back of the chair near her head.

Jeonghan leaned in, his dark hair falling forward, nearly brushing her face. His free hand reached up, fingers ghosting over her cheek as he cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing her skin in slow, tantalizing circles. Luna's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her expression softening, her eyes reflecting an unspoken plea. She wanted him to close the distance, to eliminate the aching space between them.

He dipped his head lower, his face so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. She closed her eyes, leaning in, lips parted in anticipation as their mouths brushed. But just as their lips met, Jeonghan paused, his smirk growing as he pulled back ever so slightly.

Her eyes flew open, meeting his with a mixture of frustration and longing, but he only grinned, his gaze holding a wicked gleam. "What's the rush, hmm?" he murmured, barely containing his laughter as he watched her reaction.

She let out a small, frustrated whine, her voice soft but audible, as she chased his lips again. But he leaned back just enough to keep her wanting, teasing her with the closeness yet denying her what she craved. He cooed at her, his tone dripping with playful condescension, "Aigo... are you that impatient, baby?"

Luna's lips formed into a pout, her eyes pleading as she whispered, "Please, Han..."

His laughter was soft, warm, a gentle rumble that made her heart skip. "Now, how can I say no to that?" he replied, finally relenting as he closed the gap between them.

Their lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle-he pressed against her with a fervor that matched the tension that had built between them, his mouth moving over hers with practiced ease. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. His lips were soft but firm, tasting faintly of the wine they'd shared at dinner, and she could feel the warmth of him seeping into her as their mouths moved together, slow and deep.

His hand stayed on her cheek, fingers brushing back the stray strands of her hair as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a controlled intensity that left her breathless. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly, drawing a soft, muffled groan from him as their mouths continued their unhurried exploration.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself entirely in the kiss, her senses drowned in the taste of him, a sudden sound interrupted them-the shrill ring of the doorbell. Jeonghan pulled back, breathing slightly heavier, his lips curving into a smirk as he glanced toward the door.

Luna's eyes flew open, her expression one of dazed frustration as she realized what had happened. She whined again, softer this time, her fingers still clutching his shirt as she leaned forward, trying to capture his lips once more.

But Jeonghan laughed, straightening as he gently extricated himself from her grasp.

"Guess dessert couldn't wait," he teased, reaching down to press a quick, affectionate peck to her pouty lips before pulling away entirely. “Priorities right?”

She huffed, crossing her arms as she sank back into the chair, watching him move toward the door with an exasperated expression. "I regret mentioning dessert," she muttered under her breath.

“Oh I bet you do,” Jeonghan looked back at her, chuckling softly. "Don't pout, Nana-ya. I'll be right back," he cooed, his voice teasing as he shot her a wink.

Jeonghan moved gracefully to the door, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and pulled it open, revealing a young woman dressed smartly in the hotel’s uniform. Her eyes widened a fraction as she took in his features, her gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary, clearly caught off guard by his ethereal presence. Jeonghan offered her a polite smile, his usual charm dripping effortlessly as he opened the door wider to allow her in.

The staff member seemed momentarily stunned, her steps hesitant as she entered the suite with the cake on a silver platter.

Luna, watching from her seat with narrowed eyes, tilted her head back slightly, caught in a moment of exasperation. She wasn’t sure if she should thank the universe for blessing her with such a gorgeous boyfriend or curse it for how every other woman seemed to be magnetically drawn to him. She sighed, the sound soft but noticeable, and leaned back in her chair, arms folded.

“You can place it there. Thank you,” Luna said, her voice polite yet firm as she gestured to the table in front of her.

The staff member barely glanced in Luna’s direction, seemingly dismissive as she followed her instruction but kept her attention fixed on Jeonghan. She set the cake down with a smile that was far too warm for a mere transaction, and as she straightened, her gaze returned to Jeonghan with a coyness that was impossible to ignore.

Jeonghan, sensing Luna’s mood shifting, subtly leaned back against the cabinet behind him, his eyes sliding over to her as though waiting for her to finally reach her limit. His eyebrow lifted in a silent challenge, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes as he watched her closely, a silent spectator to the tension building in the room.

The staff member, oblivious to the silent exchange between the couple, stepped closer to Jeonghan, her tone lilting with a French accent as she spoke. “You are staying long in Paris?” she asked, her voice filled with a flirtatious curiosity. “It is a beautiful city, no?”

Jeonghan offered her a polite nod, his understanding of English limited at best. He caught only pieces of what she said, but he remained courteous, his eyes shifting momentarily to Luna, who sat perfectly still, her gaze fixed on the woman with a barely concealed edge.

Luna, on the other hand, understood every single word. Every subtle inflection, every soft laugh, every lingering glance— all of it rang clear as day to her. She was used to seeing women fawn over Jeonghan; it was practically part of dating him or simply being friends with him. Luna usually had no issues with it, didn’t blame them for admiring what was hers.

But what grated on her now was the lack of respect— the dismissal in the way these women acted, first the waitress earlier and now this. The feeling of possessiveness simmered within her, a dark and shadowy friend she knew well.

The staff member’s next words, however, set something off within her.

“Is she your sister?” the woman asked, gesturing subtly toward Luna without even glancing her way. Her tone was deceptively innocent as she continued, “If so, I can give you my number, and we can get to know each other more. I bet we’d hit it off.”

The question barely registered in Jeonghan’s mind, his limited English leaving him clueless, but Luna? Luna understood every syllable, and as the words settled, she felt the blood rush in her ears, a wave of red tinting her vision.

Jeonghan, however, seemed to sense the shift in the air. His gaze snapped to hers, and there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes— something dark and almost wicked, as if he was daring her, waiting for her to react.

No, he wanted her to react. He wanted her to claim him, just as he’d claimed her earlier at the restaurant, making it clear that she belonged to him.

The woman’s suggestion was the final straw.

“Oh honey, it would take a miracle for him to like you,” Luna’s voice cut through the room, her tone sharper and deeper than usual, each word laced with a lethal edge.

The woman’s head snapped to Luna, her eyes widening in surprise, clearly not expecting such a reaction. Jeonghan leaned further back against the cabinet, arms crossed and an amused smirk curling his lips as he watched the scene unfold, his ego clearly enjoying the moment. If anything, he looked more intrigued by Luna than ever, his gaze holding a fierce appreciation for the fire in her eyes.

“Actually,” Luna continued, her tone unyielding and dripping with sarcasm, “I’m his girlfriend.” She smiled, the expression so sugary sweet it could have given someone a toothache, but there was no mistaking the bite beneath it. “Thank you for going above and beyond as our hotel staff— your service is no longer needed. I’ll make sure that your management gets my feedback on your… attentiveness.” She paused, letting the word hang in the air before adding, “You can leave now.”

Jeonghan may not have understood the specifics of what she said, but he didn’t need to. Her body language, her voice, and the way the staff’s face twisted in irritation before she huffed and turned on her heel told him everything he needed to know. The woman left the room with her head held high, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving the air heavy and charged with an electric tension.

Jeonghan’s smirk widened as he watched Luna, a low chuckle escaping him as he took in the defiance and possessiveness radiating off her. She sat there, her arms still crossed, her gaze challenging as she held his eyes, waiting for his reaction.

“So,” he drawled, moving from the cabinet to stand in front of her, his eyes glinting with amusement, “you were jealous.”

Luna scoffed, though the slight pink tint on her cheeks betrayed her. “Jealous? Don’t make me laugh, Han. You know me, I am never jealous.” she repeated, lifting her chin. “I was simply reminding her of her place.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and smooth as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. “Oh, is that all it was?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. “Looked a bit like jealousy to me.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed, the spark in her gaze sharp and unyielding. She leaned forward, her voice firm as she shot back, “I am not jealous, Yoon Jeonghan. Not of someone like her, not of anyone like her. Do you really think I’d waste my time and energy on something so… so… trivial?”

Jeonghan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his amusement only growing as he watched the fire flare in her eyes. “Of course not,” he replied, dragging out the words with deliberate ease. “I must have it wrong, then.” His tone was mockingly thoughtful as he tilted his head, studying her intently. “It’s not jealousy, hmm?” He paused, then added, “No… it’s just my possessive little bunny finally showing her true colors.”

The nickname made Luna’s retort die on her lips. She inhaled sharply, a flicker of awareness flashing across her face as his words settled, leaving her momentarily speechless. Because as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew he was right. The word “possessive” rang true, and he could see the admission in her eyes before she even had to say it.

Unwilling to concede completely, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a huff, her expression guarded yet defiant. Jeonghan’s eyes softened with an amused glint as he took in her posture, seeing through every layer she tried to hide behind. He lowered himself down, crouching directly in front of her, bringing their faces level. His gaze was warm yet teasing, as if he were savoring this moment of truth between them.

Luna met his eyes, her gaze unwavering, though there was a slight flush in her cheeks. She might have given in this time, but her defiance lingered, a silent reminder that this battle between them was far from over.

Luna narrowed her eyes, though she couldn’t help the corner of her lips tugging upward. “Don’t flatter yourself, Yoon Jeonghan. I was being considerate,” she replied coolly, the fire in her eyes flickering dangerously. “Thought she’d appreciate knowing that she was wasting her time.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the way she held her ground, the tension between them sizzling with every exchange. “Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her cheek, “considerate or not, I have to say, I like seeing this side of you.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with a challenge. “And which side is that?”

“The side that knows I’m hers,” he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving hers.

Luna’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her composure, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected her. Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Then I hope you remember it, too.”

Jeonghan’s smirk softened into something deeper, his eyes warm as he leaned down, his lips just a breath away from hers. “Trust me,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Luna raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze unwavering, an amused spark dancing in her eyes. "Yeah?" she asked, her tone laced with playful skepticism as her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him just a little closer.

Jeonghan held her gaze, unflinching, the corners of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly charming way. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly rose from his crouching position in front of her, her arms still looped around his neck, lifting with him as he stood. Their faces remained mere inches apart, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the air.

"Yeah," he breathed out, his voice low and filled with certainty. He gently guided her to rise with him, his hands steady at her waist, and in one fluid motion, he turned them around. Before she fully registered the shift, Jeonghan had slipped into the chair she'd been sitting in moments earlier, leaving her standing between his legs, his hands still firmly on her waist.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he tugged her closer, pulling her down onto his lap in one swift motion that caught her completely off guard. She gasped, her voice spilling out in a startled laugh as she found herself straddling him, her knees bracketing his hips as she settled in his lap.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, her heart pounding as she gazed down at him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck once more. She began to absentmindedly toy with a strand of his long hair, letting it curl around her fingers as a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan leaned back in the chair with a lazy, contented grin, his fingers pressing into her waist with a possessive hold. He adjusted himself in the seat, pushing his hips deeper into the cushion and sinking further into the chair, all while his gaze never left hers.

"You seem comfortable," she remarked, a teasing edge to her voice, but the way her fingers trailed through his hair betrayed just how much she was enjoying this, too.

Jeonghan's grin only widened, his fingers tracing gentle circles against her waist.

"Comfortable?" he echoed, his eyes glinting up at her. "With you right here? Very comfortable." He gave her waist a light squeeze, leaning back even further, as if daring her to keep her balance as he gently guided her hips to move against his with a teasing smirk, showing him how much her little stunt earlier had affecting him.

"How about you, hmm? Are you comfortable?" Jeonghan asked her.

Luna's breath hitched as she felt the hard length of him straining against his pants, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her skirt that has ridden up. She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savored the sensation, her hips instinctively rolling against him in response. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that mirrored his own.

"Not quite," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tightening in his hair. "But I could be."

Jeonghan's smirk faded, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated desire. His grip on her waist tightened, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin, pushing her skirt higher up her thighs. "What do you want, my angel?" he growled, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down her spine.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I want you to prove to me that your mine, Hannie."

He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer, his hips bucking against her. "Fuck, Jiyeon," he swore, his voice ragged, "you drive me crazy. Is that what you want?"

She smirked, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she rocked against him, her eyes locked onto his. "Uh huh. That's the plan," she purred, her voice laced with a sultry promise.

Jeonghan's hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt up until it bunched around her waist, baring her to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, his fingers tightening around her waist as he helped her grind on him.  His cock throbbed, pressing painfully against his zipper, desperate to be freed. He could feel her heat through her panties, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there.

"Fuck, Luna," he groaned, his voice strained as he watched her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Just like that."

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she continued to ride him, her movements growing bolder, more confident. "Your mine right?" she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Say it, Han. Please, tell me you're mine."

Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust his hips upward, meeting her grinding movements with his own. "I'm yours, Bae Jiyeon," he growled, his voice ragged with need. "Always fucking yours. I’m yours, every single part of me… don’t ever forget that.”

Luna’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she reached down between them, her fingers finding the button of his pants. With a quick flick, she popped it open, her knuckles brushing against his straining erection as she lowered the zipper.

Jeonghan hissed, his hips jerking involuntarily at the contact, his eyes never leaving hers. Luna licked her lips, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling both his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock. It sprang forth, hard and ready, and she couldn't help but admire the sight of him, her mouth watering at the thought of having him inside her.

Jeonghan watched her, his chest heaving as he waited for her next move. Luna's eyes flicked up to meet his, a wicked glint in them as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke that made him groan. Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he fought to maintain control.

"Baby," he purred, his voice ragged. "You're killing me."

She smirked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she continued to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. "Not yet, baby," she whispered, her voice laced with a sultry promise. "But I will." His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, her fingers tightening around his shaft.

His cock throbbed, desperate to be inside her, but he wanted to watch her, to see her lose control.

"Grind on my lap, pretty angel," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much you want me."

Luna's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and excitement, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. She hesitated for a moment before slowly started moving her hips back and forth faster while Jeonghan leaned back, his hands falling off her waist as he let her do all the work.  Luna's eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back as she focused on the sensation of his hard length rubbing against her clit through her soaked panties. She moaned, her fingers tightening around his cock, stroking him in rhythm with her movements.

Jeonghan watched her, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of her. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through her panties, coating his length.

The friction was exquisite, driving him wild, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel her bare, to slide into her warmth without any barriers. He reached up, his hands finding the hem of her shirt, and in one swift motion, he pulled it off, revealing her lacy bra underneath. Luna's eyes flew open, her pupils dilated with desire as she looked down at him, her chest heaving.

"Han..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Shh," he hushed her, his fingers trailing up her stomach, between her breasts, until they reached the clasp of her bra.

With a flick of his wrist, it came undone, and her breasts spilled out, her nipples already hard and aching for his touch. Luna gasped, her back arching as he cupped one breast, his thumb circling her nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

"Fuck, Han… Hannie," she moaned, her hips grinding harder against him, seeking friction, needing release. "I need you."

He growled, his eyes locked onto her bouncing tits, his cock throbbing with need. "You want my cock, angel?" he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me how bad you want it."

Luna whimpered, her hips rolling against him, her pussy aching for him. "I want it so fucking bad, Han," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me. Now."

Jeonghan's grip on her hip tightened, his other hand moving to her ass, squeezing it roughly as he helped her grind against him. "You want me to fuck you, my pretty girl?" he coos, his voice low and dirty.

"Say it, Jiyeon. Beg for me."

Luna's breath hitched, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and excitement. She loved it when he talked to her like that, when he took control and demanded things from her. It made her feel alive, desired, and utterly fucking sexy.

"I want you, oppa," she moaned, her hips rolling against him, her pussy throbbing with need. "I need you to fuck me hard. Please."

“You do?” Jeonghan hummed as his eyes darkened, his grip on her hip and ass tightening as he lifted her slightly, sliding her panties to the side before positioning himself at her entrance.

Luna's breath hitched as she nodded, her eyes locked onto his as she felt the head of his cock press against her, hot and ready. She was soaking wet, her panties drenched, and she could feel her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide in.

"Look at me, Jiyeonie. Let me see that beautiful face," Jeonghan instructed, his voice low and rough. "I want to see your eyes when I fuck you."

She nodded, her gaze never wavering as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size, her inner walls stretching to accommodate him. Jeonghan groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.

"Fuck, angel," he moaned, his voice strained as he opened his eyes to look at her. "You feel so fucking good."

She smirked, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper. "I could say the same to you, Hannie," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction.

She began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous dance as she rode him, taking him deeper with each thrust. Jeonghan's fingers dug into her flesh, his grip tight as he helped guide her movements, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Nana-ya," he groaned, his voice ragged as he watched her, his cock throbbing inside her. "You feel so good. All mine."

Luna smirked, her nails raking down his chest, leaving red lines in their wake. "All yours, huh?" she taunted, her voice low and sultry. "Prove it, Han. Fuck me like you mean it."

Jeonghan's eyes flashed with a primal hunger, his grip on her hips tightening as he slammed up into her, making her gasp. "Like this, baby?" he growled, his voice laced with a dark intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Han– Oh, fuck, baby,” Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she met his thrusts, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper with each stroke.

“Look at you, getting all flustered… my little bunny can’t handle a bit of the attention now, hmm?” Jeonghan's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he slammed into her, his cock filling her completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her that made her see stars. “That feel good? Yeah? Just like this?”

"Fuck, Jeonghan!" she cried out, her head tilting back, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. "Yes! Just like that!"

Jeonghan chuckled, his teeth sinking into her neck, marking her as he pounded into her, his hips moving with a ferocity that took her breath away.

Luna's fingers clawed at his back, her nails digging into his flesh, leaving red welts in their wake. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a freight train, threatening to consume her whole.

"Oppa– Han…," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm close."

He lifted his head, his eyes burning into hers, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. "Not yet, baby,” he tutted, his voice low and rough as he stopped making Luna whine.  "Not until I say so."

She glared at him, her chest heaving, her body aching for release. "You're being mean, Hannie," she panted, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He smirked, before lifting her as he stood up off the chair, her legs wrapping around his waist as he placed her on the bed. "Am I being mean to you, bunny?" he cooed, his voice laced with amusement, "But you like it when I’m like this."

Luna's eyes flashed with anger, but he could see the desire burning in them, too.

She wanted this, needed this, just as much as he did. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. She moaned, her body melting into his, her legs tightening around his waist as she ground against him, seeking friction.

Jeonghan broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this moment, of him, long after tonight was over. He pushed her back onto the bed, his body following hers down, his hips settling between her thighs.

Luna's breath hitched as she felt the weight of him, the hard length of him pressed against her, throbbing with need. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and defiance, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

Jeonghan smirked, his eyes darkening as he took in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, and her heaving chest. "You're so fucking beautiful, my love," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

His hands traced patterns on her skin, his fingers skimming over her curves, making her shiver. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, hot and insistent, and it made her ache for him even more.

"Hannie," she whispered, her voice laced with desperation. "Please."

He chuckled, a low, dirty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Please what, Nana-ya?" he teased, his fingers dipping lower, tracing the edge of her panties. "What do you want me to do to you?  “What is it, baby? You want more? Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

Luna's breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her eyes locked onto his. "Fuck me, baby, please," she pleaded, her voice ragged with need. "Make me come.”

Jeonghan's eyes darkened, his grip on her thigh tightening as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down roughly. He grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide, and positioned himself at her entrance. She was soaking wet, her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide back in.

Jeonghan's eyes locked onto hers as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? Anything to make my baby happy. God– I’m in fucking love with you.”

He groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you, my sweet girl?” Jeonghan groaned as he continued to thrust into her. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a storm on the horizon.

“Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

Jeonghan moaned, his grip on her hips tightening, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Come for me, Jiyeonie," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Come all over my cock, baby. Show me how much you love it."

Luna's breath hitched, her fingers clawing at his back as she felt the heat inside her coil tighter, ready to snap. "Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

“I know, I know baby,” He tightened his hold on her, his hips slamming into hers, his cock filling her completely. "Do it, bunny," he grunted, his voice strained. "Come for me.”

And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, consuming her whole.

“Fuck, Han!” She whined his name, her body convulsing beneath him, her inner walls clamping down around him, milking him for all he was worth. Jeonghan groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his hot seed.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths ragged as they came down from their high. Jeonghan rolled off her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close as he spooned her from behind.

Luna's breath was still ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. She could feel Jeonghan's cock, still semi-hard, nestled against her ass, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

"Fuck," Jeonghan murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice still heavy with desire. "You drive me insane. Only you, baby. Only ever you," Jeonghan told her, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the warmth of his body pressed against hers. "Only me," she agreed, her voice soft, intimate, as she turned to face him, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Her back pressed further into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart matching her own.

"My pretty girl," he muttered against her lips, breaking the kiss to look at her, his gaze dark with desire and affection. "You're insatiable."

A smirk danced across her lips as she pulled away slightly, just enough to settle her head on his chest, draping herself over him with a kind of lazy confidence. "I can't help it," she whispered, her voice taking on a sultry edge. "You bring out the best and worst in me, Hannie."

Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, wrapping his arms around her, fingers tracing idle patterns along her back. "Well, l'd hate to deprive you of such excellent inspiration," he replied, a playful glint in his eye. "Though if this is the 'worst' in you... I think I might be the luckiest guy alive."

She gave him a playful glare, swatting at his chest. "Don't get too cocky now," she teased, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

"Oh, baby," he cooed, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "I think you're the only one allowed to be cocky here." He leaned down, brushing his lips over her forehead with a featherlight touch. "I'm just here to keep up, give you what you need, and maybe make you a little crazy along the way."

Luna let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at his words, but she felt her heart swell with the warmth only he could give her. "Maybe?" she challenged, arching an eyebrow.

"Fine," he conceded, smirking. "A lot crazy. But only for me, right?"

She settled back into him, her voice barely a whisper. "Only for you. Only ever you."

Luna hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as she snuggled closer, her body worn out from the intense lovemaking.

They lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Luna could feel Jeonghan's chest rising and falling rapidly under her, his heart beating rapidly against her ear. She could feel his lips pressed against her forehead, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

Luna savored the way Jeonghan made her feel— a feeling of belonging so profound that it left her utterly captivated. She felt claimed, possessed in the best possible way, like she was both his entire world and something he would fight to keep all to himself. No one had ever made her feel like this before, like she was more than just someone to hold.

Jeonghan made her feel desired, cherished, protected… all at once.

She loved the softness in his touch, the gentleness in his eyes, and the way he could melt her defenses with a single word. But she also loved the way he unleashed something wilder within her, something she hadn’t even known existed until she met him. He made her feel wild and untamed, free to give in to desires that once felt foreign, unrestrained in a way that sent a thrill racing through her.

For the first time in her twenty-six years of existence, Luna found herself thankful for the presence of that lingering shadow she usually kept hidden—possessiveness. It was always there, lurking quietly, rarely stirred.

But Jeonghan, with his effortless charm, his mischievous smile, and that knowing gaze, he brought it to life. And instead of shying away from it, she welcomed it. She embraced it because it meant she didn’t have to hold back when it came to him. She could be unapologetically hers and his all at once, unguarded in her feelings, reveling in the thrill of knowing he was hers to claim just as much as he claimed her.

Just as she was sinking into this feeling, basking in that delicious sense of belonging, a sudden thought shot through her mind, jolting her from the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms.

Luna gasped, sitting up abruptly.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened, his hand immediately coming up to steady her, a flash of worry crossing his face. “What?” he asked, his tone laced with confusion and a hint of alarm.

She pouted, her gaze darting toward the table. “My cake!” she exclaimed, voice tinged with frustration as she moved to get up.

Jeonghan watched her, and after a second of stunned silence, he sighed and chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that,” he muttered, standing up to grab the cake himself before she could.

Luna huffed, crossing her arms and shooting him a playful glare. “The cake, Han!” she complained, her pout only deepening at his apparent lack of urgency.

He held up his hands in surrender, smirking as he reached for the cake on the table. “Alright, alright,” he said, indulging her with a gentle tone, his voice full of doting affection as he brought it over to her. “Here’s your precious cake, my demanding little bunny that I love so much.”

“I love you more,” Luna replied instantly, her focus shifting entirely to the cake now in her hands, a gleam of satisfaction lighting up her face.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. “Are you talking about the cake or me?” he asked, his tone deadpan but his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Luna’s head snapped up, her gaze narrowing as she glared at him, lips curling into a stubborn pout. She held the cake protectively, as if shielding it from any further teasing.

Jeonghan chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate coo. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Nana-ya,” he teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I know you love me more. But you’re still adorable when you’re pretending otherwise.”

Luna’s pout deepened, but the hint of a smile betrayed her. She rolled her eyes, and despite herself, her lips quirked upward just slightly.

Jeonghan’s chuckle turned into a warm laugh, his gaze filled with that familiar mix of mischief and adoration that only he could pull off. And in that cozy, sweet moment, with Luna clutching her beloved cake and Jeonghan’s laughter filling the room, the night felt perfect— just the two of them, in their own little world.

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[katherinemckay]

one musical to movie change i haven't really seen anyone talk about is the subtle difference in how glinda's potential future with the wizard is laid out to her before defying gravity (and how that changes how you can read her motivations).

in the musical the wizard explictly says "you have so many opportunities ahead of you - you both do" and then that's that, so glinda has reason to believe she has a legitimate future with the wizard regardless of whether elphaba's there. this can play into the interpretation that she stays behind for her own ambitions - she clearly has opportunities waiting for her.

however, this actually isn't how it comes across in the movie, at least to me. the wizard's original inclusion of glinda in his plans is changed from explicitly mentioning opportunity to just "you having a home here [...] and if it'll make you happy, possibly, your friend." in the movie version, the wizard directly states only that glinda would be joining them in the palace - and it's merely a suggestion as an addition to elphaba (she's even just referred to as her friend, not being spoken directly to) to make elphaba want to stay, rather than him describing glinda as someone who could have her own individual opportunities.

then, when elphaba runs away, morrible tells glinda "you want to do yourself some good, bring her back." here, morrible now suggests that glinda could do something for herself and her individual future. what i find interesting is that glinda instead jumps on the hot air balloon with elphaba and even fights off the guards with her. while glinda does try to talk elphaba down for awhile ("let's just have a word with them," "you've got to let him explain," etc.), she ultimately abandons this approach by the time elphaba has chosen to defy gravity.

in the movie, glinda goes against morrible's direct orders of bringing elphaba back when she accepts elphaba's choice to leave and helps her get ready. this means that by supporting elphaba in her decision, glinda actually abandons the chance she believes she has to finally get in with morrible (and by extension the wizard). in movie-verse, glinda really has no reason to believe staying behind without elphaba could advance her own ambitions, because both the wizard and morrible have laid out a potential future for her that is reliant on having elphaba at her side and keeping elphaba compliant to them (and using glinda to do that). i don't think that movie!glinda ultimately stays behind for selfish/power-seeking reasons, because the wizard and morrible haven't actually suggested to her that she has a path alongside them as an individual. (they also just truly show no interest in glinda as an individual person in a much more obvious way than in the musical, but that could be its own post.)

ariana grande has spoken a couple times on how one of the emotions glinda feels in the added hug scene with morrible is relief, and i think this all is why. glinda chose to stay behind while helping elphaba escape, knowing it was disobeying what was asked of her. given glinda is also being detained by the guards in that moment, i think that relief comes from her genuinely not having known if she would be safe or would become essentially a prisoner after staying behind, and feeling relief when morrible does free/accept her and suggests there's still a path for her.

there's definitely moral grayness to discuss with how glinda accepts her position within the regime and settles into it, but i think (in movie-verse) the actual choice to stay behind isn't one of those moments — it wasn't established to glinda that staying behind without elphaba could actually lead her to power and opportunity with the wizard, and she directly goes against the one path to power that was suggested to her by helping elphaba leave.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

A/N: I am just starting to play Honkai so if there is anything wrong or that just doesn't make sense, please tell me!

A/N ²: This is me attempting to adopt and protect my babies, wrapping them in cotton and never leaving their side... And I got sleepy at the end, or else I would have written Aventurine and Dan Heng too :( If anyone has ideas for Honkai SAGAU, please do send some asks 👏🏻

Imagine... The Creator!Reader in Honkai verse. You were just idly passing by, to see what your children were doing after the Ones you left in charge... Pretty much usurped your throne.

Imagine the Creator!Reader seeing, witnessing all the deaths and sorrow IPC created...in the name of "economy". Such thing was absurd, why would they do that, slaving and using people for their benefit to make more and more when you gave all the humans and even the Aeons enough source to love in harmony?

Why would they destroy people, families, lives... Planets?

Imagine... Creator!Reader's disappointment as They slump back on their throne. They gave them life, opportunities to overcome their mind's limit and be someone to be remembered... They gave them life sources, water, air, planets to live on, souls to feel and think and passions to find a reason to be alive... And yet, there were some people, the people of your Aeon Qlipoth, who was usualy indifferent, deciding that they were the ones to destroy the harmony and balance you had settled for everyone.

They thought Yours wasn't the final saying, that your word wasn't the absolute

How many more times did they have to go through all of the syages of self-destruction before they finally used their mind and consciousness together? Before they realized your Balance was the most beneficial for everyone?

Imagine... Knowing what would happen, even though pain was a constant part of human life, They didn't want their creation to suffer such a fate. Loosing humanity, everything that made humans humans... Loosing your family and witnessing their deaths right before their eyes, only being seen as the sins someone that wasn't you did and being exiled, pushed aside and running away for not to be hunted and all the reasons for your disappointment... Creator!Reader decides to take the reigns.

First, they go to visit a certain father and daughter duo. They watch from the side as they spend time, caring for the horses, playing guitar and braiding each other's hair. They couldn't help the smile that slowly took over their face, watching with fondness at the innocence of that little toddler... Before their eyes met, and a spark erupted.

From now on, as much as Boothill was first skeptical about them, he accepted to have Them around since his daughter and siblings loved Them so much. The little girl often slept on Them while cuddling, her soul immediately knowing the presence of its creator... Of course They didn't tell them everything, that their lives would be over because of Their greedy creations... And of course, the fact that They were the Allmighty Creator they kept telling tales about.

They loved this little found family a lot, with the human body They crafted to blend in, and soon found Themselves attached. Soon, They found Themselves cooking and cleaning around, running after the children with a toddler attached to their hip as the silent affection between Them and Boothill grew with all the loving and fleeting touches, hugging and cuddling, stargazing at night but never leaving their eyes off of each other...

But an omnipresent being falling in love with their creations was...against the balance... Especially when the day of their death too, came closer, and They were the one who lied, although it was to protect them.

But please, they were the Creator, to Weaver of All Fates, were the measly humans really going to stop Them? Take what was rightfully theirs?

Don't think so.

Before the fall of the planet, when all the equipments of IPC broke and the Path of those who worked under it, alongside Qlipoth's, were taken away for some time... That was when Qlipoth understood that they initially fucked up and angered the Creator. Now, another Aeon who had a head over their shoulders, would probably go nuts with fear and cower at some kind of corner of the universe...

But greed? Greed was often stronger that rationality.

Did any of that shitty behaviour stop? No, not really.

So, it was up to you to save and protect all those traumatised kids... And also make sure that a whole race didn't get wiped out.

[slowd1ving]

EAT MY HEART, I'LL EAT YOURS ⁺ 　 . ✦ MOZE

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides,  Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles,  The moon grins once again tonight.  He hates you. He hates your plans, how you talk, how you work. He loathes being stuck with you: detests it to his very core. But that's great, because the feeling is mutual with you! Tied to an ill-omened crow of your own, what's there not to abhor? continuation of tales of a disgruntled corvid art by @ RMavio on x!! pairing: moze + male reader warnings: blood, death, violence, yall HATE each other bro, v slow burn, pre established relationship (if you don't count the relationship of HATING each other's GUTS) wc: 6.3k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Copper defiles the carefully manufactured oxygen that circulates this tiny starship. Its stench pervades the past the clean air, past the distinctly alkaline tang of bleach, and past what little protection your visor affords you. In fact, the clear nanocomputers pick up on a distinctly sanguine hue to the air: labelling tiny crimson specks as biological matter—human blood (tentative). 

“Adult Foxian male, died approximately forty hours ago,” the man crouched before you narrates, oblivious to the you who stares up at the ceiling of the small room—as if the gesture could possibly shield you from the horrifying reality at your feet. No matter how many times you’ve stepped into a situation like this (too many to count ever since your career path practically merged with the Shadow Guards’), you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. This is Moze’s sphere of knowledge: Moze’s work that intimately twines and dances with the very cesspit of vice and umbrage. 

“Died from presumably loss of blood caused by the deep lacerations across his abdomen and throat,” he continues—the details, unfortunately, seep into your brain as you try your best to tune him out. Thank you, Captain Obvious, you’d bite out, but unfortunately opening your mouth in these conditions would make you sick. “Or at least, that’s what the perpetrator would want us to think.”

There’s viscera splashed even on the very walls. Messy streaks of scarlet contaminate the aged wallpaper in the small room: capricious strokes, as though a child painted them, form characters and seemingly random lines of verse that register as unusual on your visor. That’s your area of expertise. 

Like clockwork, your gaze remains unwavering on the riddle presented on the structure. That’s how you’ve dealt with being in such proximity to Reapers: by pretending the wall is a block of stone and its red ink is precisely that—ink. That’s how you separate yourself from the victims of these gruesome cases; bit by bit, you’re slowly growing accustomed to the nauseating reek of metal that wafts before you. 

And so, when you finally glance down at the glazed-over eyes of the latest victim, it is with startling impassiveness that you assess his cadaver. He’s gone, you accept. Your little ritual has worked, as it oft does. 

“Same sigils as the other bodies.” You finally regain your voice, and the silver-haired man turns his sharp gaze up at you. “But the last line to the verse is different.”

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides, 

Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles, 

The moon grins once again tonight. 

The characters rest heavy on your tongue—foreign meanings straightening themselves out as you slowly sound out the snippet. It’s a verse from a children’s book of poems: a short tale about an obsolete, oceanic planet and its restoration by few brave souls. 

“The moon slumbered tonight,” you mutter the original line to yourself. This ancient script doesn’t suit the naïve phrases, but it’s commonly used for rituals—both antique and modern, you’ve unfortunately found. 

With a heavy sigh, you pull out the gun in your holster; it’s warm, humming to life which seems terribly ironic to you, considering where you are. You’ve not used the weapon for quite some time: the flickering it emits seems both familiar and unfamiliar. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His clipped speech warily assesses the ease with which you handle the arm you never seem to use: preferring the glassy, almost invisible blade currently strapped across your back when in combat. 

“Xiaoze,” you sigh tauntingly, infusing the firearm with quantum energy that briefly glows indigo in this dim room. “Shut up and let me do my job.”

“Ew,” his face sours almost immediately at the nickname, embittered by both how it drips with condescension and no real affection, and how off putting it is for you of all people to be adding things to his name. “Don’t do that.”

“Then shut up.” You line the sights experimentally, having successfully blackmailed the Shadow Guard into keeping mum for a few minutes while you turn the qualitative verse into quantitative data. Perhaps he does feel threatened by the promise, for you only feel his heavy stare on you and not his words. 

The bullet careens and phases through the wall where the verse is located, and with a shimmer of data, the strings of numbers behind the verse reveal themselves: meaningless to all but yourself. It’s a temporary display, containing important information about the very foundations of this riddle. Or, at least, it’s a shortcut since the verse has already been decoded. 

Seek the answer ‘neath the tides: a reference to where the power ‘current’ of Madam General Feixiao is absent. Or at least, these murder locations point to that; they’re in the areas least looked over in the Alliance: namely, not aboard the Flagship. 

Madness shall prosper, forget her wiles: a crude depiction of Moon Rage, as well as the shedding of a ‘Foxian’ identity. Considering all these victims have been Foxian, it’s no far-fetched assumption to think that these have all been building up to something sinister. 

The moon slumbered tonight: a reference to the plaguemark hung over the Yaoqing—a moon left behind by Yaoshi. Past tense. Sleeping.

But that had all changed with this particular murder. Whatever goal the perpetrator hoped to achieve was finally coming into fruition with the awakening of this ‘moon’. 

The data transmitted onto your visor is as elapsed: the time of writing, the exact coordinates relative to the Flagship at the time of writing, as well as some background noise of little relevance to this current predicament. These numbers are duly inputted into one of your pre-created ‘equation’ sheets: linking abstracts together in their own relationships to receive a divinatory variable. It’s one of the few successes you’ve had with qualitative equations; linking energy and mass and speed is easy, but linking feeling together is not. 

In this case, tying down the exact time and coordinates to a specific intention. Any organic creature or ingenium leaves behind a trace of intention, whether it be through actual thoughts or a pre-programmed function. But in this case, the result comes out void. 

Thirty-two hours since verse was written. 

“How long did you say the man has been dead?” you ask, urgently. Moze snaps back to attention at the specific tone in your voice. 

“Forty hours,” he answers. When it comes down to the bloody aspects of this job, he returns to his laconic, reticent ways—it’s truly a shame he can’t keep it up in other aspects. 

“You’re sure about that,” you probe, half a question in your voice.

“It’s my job,” he deadpans, and you scowl as he uses your words against you. 

“Well, this verse appeared about eight hours after the man died,” you comment wonderingly. The strokes of the characters for grins once again appear a bit messier than the rest—almost like a map. Well, it’s not a deduction; your visor picks up on the strange wording right before you do. “Unlike the others that were written manually by a perpetrator.”

“So, this sacrificial lamb was finally the success,” he mutters darkly. 

“But the trail is no longer dead.” You sheathe your pistol back into its holster with a touch of relief, because finally this set of murders is coming to its conclusion.

⁺ 　 . ✦

You take back whatever compliments you had of him focusing on his job when it came down to it. As you pilot the star skiff along the trail of data outputted from your visor and the crude map from the bloody drawings, he’s practically talking your ear off about the garbled string of answers you sent him from your visor. 

“And what is beef’s relevance to this case?” he asks, each syllable drawn taut with what could only be mockery. 

“Typo,” you grit out, tilting the control wheel starboard. Now is not the time. 

“Egg, too?” he taunts. 

Your eyes flick to the top left of your visor, where you did in fact merge the contents of your grocery list with the file meant for him. 

“Use your common sense,” you bite on the inside of your cheek, hard, to prevent any insults from slipping past your lips. “You do still have that, right?”

“So what’s for dinner tonight?” He leans back against the co-pilot seat, and you can feel his gaze prick your face—much like you feel the tiny, irritating smile he wears. 

“I will crash this skiff if I have to, and you’ll have to explain to the General why the cryptologist exploded into itty-bitty pieces, Xiaoze,” you seethe. 

“Not if they don’t find your body,” he returns—far too accustomed to the patronising name for someone who blanched at its usage just an hour prior. Worst part is, he’d definitely make do on this vaguely-worded threat. 

“Madame General and A-hua would know it was you.” You propel the stern forward, if only to feel his hands grip the sides of his seat tighter. He courts death daily as an assassin, but wouldn’t it be a treat to die because of reckless driving. It’s not like you can entrust the programmed visor to him (and it’s not like you want to send the decoded map to the skiff). 

“Would they, though?” He pares away the dirt beneath his nails with his knife, and you hope the sudden jolt in the vehicle gave him an injury. 

“Jump.” A single syllable, gracing the space with your tender command. His brow raises minutely. 

“No one will miss you,” you add. 

“Since you’ve got no friends,” you tack on with an air of finality. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

He hates you. He hates you: hates the way your hands deftly turn the control wheel on the skiff; hates the way you trip and stumble through life, leaving countless messes behind yet still managing to have Feixiao’s approval to work with him; hates your facetious and conniving and sly insults. But most of all, he really fucking hates your plans. 

“This is so stupid,” he mutters in your ear; invisible to all but the tell tale outline on your shrunken visor. You’d reply, but you’re already conspicuous enough in the tailored suit you’ve donned—all sharp lines and a cut too bittersweet for your home planet. So actually, fuck that, then—there’s no point in being all Spy-like and Inconspicuous any longer. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, adjusting the cufflinks beneath the rich jacket—then subconsciously running a thumb along the edge of your fake identification card that’s pinned to your collar. Unlike that weirdo, you can’t turn invisible—so you’re left firing quanta bullets at the hull of this rig right outside Yaoqing airspace (or technically, space-space) and gleaning whatever information you can to assemble a persona for yourself. 

 <Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> how do I look < 1:34

The message pings to him from your visor, and you know he’s seen it—from the caustic sigh that leaves his lips, because if he ever blows his cover while he’s invisible, it will have been because of you.

< Weirdo > 1:34 > Focus on the damned mission.

Lukewarm, you scoff, brain sounding out your response. How… do… I… look, you type out once more.

1:35 > Terrible. 

Aggravated, you clench your fist, and you swear you can hear the space behind you warp and distort when he snickers. Terrible! What a joke, you seethe—jabbing the code into the airlock that you’d worked out by the little tones left on the verse, as well as reading the intentions left by people at this door. 

Your job is simple—getting to the bottom of these long-standing murders while also planting a bug on the ship that would allow the Seat of Divine Foresight of the Yaoqing to monitor the situation. Nothing more, but maybe something less if something went wrong. This was only a two-man operation, after all. 

Of course, you neither kept optimistic nor pessimistic. Though there were only two objectives,  those that underestimated the simplest missions oft suffered the brutal brunt of defeat. And of course, the former term being negotiable showed just how difficult it was. Or at least, if you managed to find the office of the higher ups, the data you stole would allow you to reconstruct the space virtually—though what you needed were concrete files that pointed to clear motives. 

No—not the office. 

You squinted as a rough plan of the building popped up from the continuous data you fed your visor—a general prediction of where the lab and computer room would be located, which were simulated as being in the same wing as the office. Perfect. 

<Weirdo> 1:40 > Done all your shopping already, or are you just tired of steak?

You grind your molars as you travel past the small throngs of borisin and humans alike: you don’t look entirely out of place as they’re dressed in a medley of different outfits, from IPC uniform replicas to Penacony garb to even the long robes found on Herta’s Space Station. Point is—your Earthwear doesn’t stand out, and there’s enough people that your badge does not go noticed. 

<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> gonna shoot you how about that < 1:40

It takes the time of twenty-seven heartbeats to stride through the corridors (tunnels) that make their way around the aircraft. Twenty-seven heartbeats, three checkpoints and one smile shot at presumably a ‘coworker’—before you finally make it into the final stretch. He knows, though you don’t, because he’s counted: listening to the rhythmic beat of your organs as you calmly navigate the ship like you know what you’re doing. 

It’s devoid of souls, except for the two of you as you pad down the corridor. Even the very lab and big office seem abandoned—but Moze’s urgent text alerts you of the presence of someone in the office, just not the lab. 

Guess we’ll start there then. 

A quick swipe of your falsified keycard, and you were in—slipping on one of the freely available lab coats and extending your visor to cover your eyes at the entrance. You do respect lab etiquette, after all; erasing even your thoughts about food and drink as you press through the automatic glass doors. 

<Weirdo> 1:43 > You almost look like a scientist now.

You can hear his exhales—they’re so obviously deliberate, because no way would he blow his cover by accident. He’s snickering, that sod is. 

I am a scientific doctor, you senile fuckwad. < 1:44 

1:45 > Thought your default display name was just a joke. Did you hit your head and hallucinate some credentials?

You seethe, since you can’t exactly scroll through endless files to locate your dissertation on ancient science and qualitative formulae. Over sixty-thousand words, reduced to mere mockery by this cretin. 

It’s a triple entendre < 1:45 And I’ve got the creds < 1:45 prick < 1:45 

1:45 > moron

He types this lightning quick, not even pausing to stop walking—not even pausing to capitalise and punctuate his stupidly mocking text like normal—and you can still hear him because he’s letting you hear his normally silent steps, he’s letting you know he can fulfil the mission while shit talking you to your own face.

this is why you have no friends < 1:46

1:47 > this is why you don’t have friends outside your job. no one actually likes you

You rummage around in the large filing cabinet besides all the gleaming equipment: large centrifuges, safety cupboards, fume hoods, and weird display cases filled with samples of what can only be blood. Swiftly, you snap several photos of the evidence with your visor, then mindlessly write a response. Talk about a call coming from inside the house, you think. 

name two people who voluntarily spend time with you < 1:49 [<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> sent index.finger.pointing emoji] < 1:49 [<Doctor, Who is slightly Strange> sent laughing.crying emoji] < 1:49

He’s no longer in the peripheries of your earshot; so you know he’s gone off to investigate the other areas of the small lab—beyond the equipment and into the computer room. Good, you exhale—at least he respects lab protocol. 

1:51 > name a time feixiao actually talked to you outside of work

I will…. lend you… my gun so… you can shoot…. yourself, you type, then quickly hit backspace before you can send it by accident. 

yesterday. eat shit xiaoze < 1:52

1:52 > that was charity work don’t flatter yourself

Hastily, you scan any files in the weird stronghold that look even remotely related to borisin and Foxians and especially the one you cradle: labelled only with the icon of a moon and containing eerily similar rituals to the crime scenes you found. 

oh you want to talk about charity work? lets ask the crowd bro < 1:55 everyone who interacts with you is doing charity work.. < 1:56

1:57 > ok at least my job wanted me

Wow. Wooow. You stare incredulously at the message—he’s dragging the Intelligenstia Guild into this, knowing you got put on leave for ‘engaging in querulous behaviour’ and ‘lacking in real life experience’. Low blow. 

…and no one else did so what now < 1:58 name a single friend you have < 1:58

1:58 > .. 1:59 > Jiaoqiu 

Jiaoqiu. How cute, you scoff, resuming your hate typing while you flick through the last few files hidden around in drawers and cupboards. 

idk how to tell you this but you are NOT the friend bro you’re the test subject… < 2:00 I think he pitied you or smth.. < 2:01

2:02 > ew 2:02 > don’t call me bro it’s sickening 2:02 > we are not alike

it’s exposure therapy < 2:03 since you don’t have any friends you don’t and probably never will be called anything endearing < 2:04 aren’t I so nice < 2:04

Pausing, you glance up at where the glass doors lead right to the computer lab; a dim glow washes over the space. Nothing much to worry about, you think—copying data is a far less burdensome task than rifling through pages upon pages of reports and then arranging them back into their rightful place. Though, if you were worried about anything, it was that the virus and bugger installation would take longer than they had to. 

Maybe it’s the paranoia getting to you. 

Or maybe, maybe, it’s the faint click of footsteps against linoleum floors—getting louder and louder and louder. As does your heartbeat: thundering deafeningly in your ears. You can’t turn invisible. You don’t get the luxury of slipping into the shadows like your colleague (to put it very politely) does. 

And so you swallow—tongue thick and leaden within your suddenly too-dry mouth. There are two courses of action you can take (hurry, the steps are getting louder): the first being to hide away in the little storage cupboard and take the escape from there. You will not be able to fool a scientist who knows their colleagues far more intimately than the grunts in the lobby. Moze has worked alone before. He’ll figure out how to get the virus downloaded and the data copied before the person even gets close to noticing him. 

Or—and your eyes flick to the computer room clearly visible from the lab—you could put on an act to save both your life and Moze’s time. You could… probably do that, right?

Heart moving renditions…. Never mind that your heart was pounding right out of your chest—never mind that your glassy sword could not be wielded in this narrow hallway, never mind that flipping the switch on your gun was not quite something you were prepared to do. 

They were almost at the corner, and you made your decision to step out into that narrow corridor. One hand in your pocket and the other raking across your face as you yawned. The epitome of casual. 

And Moze’s ears pricked as he watched you; though you’d never know, and he’d never admit that he did so. He heard the sound of sharp shoes, and was honestly expecting you to turn tail. 

But you didn’t. 

You’re taking lazy strides as he hears the researcher approach—counting on the secrecy of this organisation being tight enough to operate on a need-to-know basis. In other words, you’re operating on the high-risk gamble: that this particular person would be unaware of changes in personnel. There’s no time to read the data streaming from their steps. Ordinarily, from their intention you could figure out their rank in the pecking order—but you are plumb out of luck. 

He rounds the corner: wearing a suit far more well cut than yours, though his tie sits loose at his throat and his jacket is slung over one shoulder. From one glance, you can tell immediately. You’re screwed. Still, it’s too late to run now: far too late to leave Moze to figure out how to download the data faster. 

“Who are you?” The drawl is heavy with a cadence far too confident. Just your fucking luck, you momentarily scowl—of course the lab would be frequented by some clear higher-up. Not a regular degular scientist you could simply sweet talk, but someone not in the lower strata of this shady organisation.  

He’s handsome: black hair that sheens prussic, eyes glinting practically amber even in the frigid lighting that washes over this space. Something you’ve unfortunately learned while traversing the galaxy is that this guy cannot possibly be a grunt; and if he is, there’s something seriously wrong with the corporation. He’s eye candy—which makes this situation so terrible. You are screwed. In that moment, your lazy smile wavers somewhat; you are utterly and irredeemably fucked. You could shoot him, but that would no doubt put the rig on immediate lockdown with the sound of the gun. 

Fuck. You want to slam your head against the glass, but that would no doubt screw you over even further. 

You’re not built for this. 

“Oh, are you part of the research team too?” Naive. Your qualifications have just landed you this position, and you’re not quite capable of discerning if you should be divulging that information or not. That’s the mindset you centre this particular character around: just some random guy who’s a bit gullible. 

“Just got transferred,” you lie through your teeth, shamelessly. It’s a sin to lie, but you’ve committed bigger ones before. 

“No wonder I’ve never seen a cutie like you here before,” he murmurs—leaning in as though to inspect your face. And so, you freeze; naturally, this was not the direction you thought this conversation would take. Maybe sweet talking is not entirely off the table, but you sincerely doubt you’ll actually get away. 

You swallow. How much longer do you have to stall for? Is Moze done? What the fuck do you say next?

“Uh.” Thanks? I guess? You’re pretty cute too? You find your hand inching towards your holster—minutely, of course—while potential replies whirl through your mind chaotically. Miniature storms wrapped up in slimy brain matter and miniscule neuron connections. 

It’s only when he lets out a short laugh that you realise that you might’ve let out your thoughts, and you curse at yourself in your mind. 

“Wow, you’re bold,” he comments, closer: until you can almost taste the lingering iron and manufactured scent he has. Like wood. Earth pine. A bitter pang goes through your heart at that: someone from the surviving fallout of Earth, here of all places. In a clean, sterile lab dedicated to sacrificing Foxians—for what? Money? Stupid credits? Humans are rotten creatures, cut from a cloth macerated in cesspits. On Earth, it was no exception. 

Still. Your lips press into a line at his clothes, the particular way the tie is knotted. You’ve never seen another survivor prior to this. 

You may also be completely mistaken. Penacony and doubtless others have the same strands of fashion—but this. This is wholly Earth. 

“People do tell me that,” you return, unbuttoning your lab coat since you’re no longer in the lab boundaries. Moze, hurry the fuck up. You’re already regretting it, but you need to confirm it. Alien everywhere, what other choice do you have?

His eyes don’t widen like you expect, and you feel a stupid ache at the realisation that you’re once again alone. But rather, they flicker to your breast pocket, where your falsified keycard peeks out. Closer. His fingers pluck the plastic as though it were a flower, and you’re much too astounded to stop him. 

“What a shame…” he murmurs, and only the nails digging into your palm remind you fitfully of just how near he is—practically tasting the fucking lies on your breath. 

“Sir, back up a bit,” you grimace. This sucks. The perks of keeping the guy from witnessing the glow in the computer room is slowly fading away the longer you keep this up. Should’ve left Moze to get caught. 

“O strange doctor, do movies of the bygone era really interest you so?” 

You freeze. Shit. Shit. You’d let down your guard—attempting to gauge his reaction to your attire and getting caught out yourself. Really, was there any spy worse than yourself? The falsified card was hastily put together with the help of your visor; of course it autofilled that stupid alias. 

It’s not the first time your mistakes have cost you. 

“You…” This guy. You should’ve run. You suck at gambling. 

“How odd. I should’ve been aware of one like me being transferred.”

“Who the hell are you?” Cautiously, you take a minute step back. He notices—of course he does. 

“The head of the research department, who else?”  Fuck, fuck. Your heart is entering arrhythmia: pounding flush against your eardrums like some goddamn hammer against piercing nail. You’re dead meat. 

“It’s unfortunate that I can’t buy you a suit to replace that cheap one—if you hadn’t infiltrated, we might’ve been good friends.” He’s still putting up a front, but you can tell he’s close to a fight. It’s the snarling instinct of a cornered human—fight or flight activating almost immediately at every minute movement of his. Each shallowed breath, each minute shift in sinew. All of it. 

“No, definitely not,” you retort in disgust. “Most people from that planet sucked.”

It’s true, but your heart twinges blue just the same. Millions of years, all for that stupid molten iron planet to just cease. None but you—all alone amongst the cold, dead stars. 

It was a graveyard of the giants: hulking Jupiter, so wretched and broken; stars slowly winking out one by one. Even the massive silhouette of the Sun had finally been conquered. Had the universe ever been so lonely for the wandering?

“Even you?” And now his fists punctuate the empty space with his words. 

“Especially me.”

How foolish. How foolish, as he’s barely breathing on the floor beside you. How foolish, as you let your teeth grind in stupefied frustration. How foolish, that you wanted to communicate with a remnant from that obsolete planet. 

You’re an idiot as you clutch at your side: warmth seeping between your fingers as you prop yourself up against the wall. Shallow, heaving breaths come ragged—though the fight didn’t last even five minutes, courtesy of your visor working overtime to electrocute that fool by your feet. He looks fried, but you don’t look much better: being stabbed does that, after all. 

You don’t know what you’re doing here. 

What were you trying to accomplish?

Iron tastes especially caustic today. Ah, you realise with a start—this stupid endeavour was all to buy time. Maybe it was all pointless. Maybe you’ll slip into slumber here—tripping over the sleeping man at your feet and seeing your planet once more, if only in your dreams. 

The flicker of lights reminds you of your wretched childhood apartment. All concrete and dilapidated structure, but it was your home. A cruel and cold home—though it was also one where the sun touched the horizon just so, in a way that erased pain for a singular moment in time. 

Stupid. All this to fulfil your stupid mission. 

Your legs wobble, and you would’ve slammed right into the wall were it not for the cold arms wrapping around your ribcage—gelid hand splayed on your chest. 

“Idiot.” Moze’s voice is low and angry; practically shaking while he supports your body. He’s pressed right up against your side—making the smell of blood ever more pungent. Slippery, metallic copper—all coming from you and ruining that stupid suit for good. “Are you illiterate too?”

“Huh?” You don’t know why he’s upset; he got the job done, didn’t he? Maybe he’s mad he has to prop you up while navigating the dim tunnels of this building—his teeth are gritting, after all, even if you can’t see him. You can hear the molars grind together. 

“Are your eyes just for show, or do you occasionally read your messages?” he seethes. Your trembling heart is far too loud to register the final death rattles of the man left behind in the corridor—courtesy of a blade thrown right into his jugular. 

“Hah. Muted them to not read your irritating texts anymore.” You close your eyes as he guides you past the chemicals, past the cleaning supplies in the closet that leads to a hidden path outwards. He’s more… gentle than you would’ve expected; grip firm on your arm slung over his shoulders rather than constricting. 

“I didn’t need your help,” he informs you: tone boreal as ever. “You blew our cover.”

Still, you cannot see the furrow in his brows as he peers down at you; neither can you see his lips pressing together. His heart’s pounding weirdly: focused on you rather than leaving this stupid place far behind. 

“I didn’t do it for you—” you grit out, stumbling the last few steps to the concealed star skiff while alarms blare on the ship the two of you leave behind. And he’s grasping your waist as you lean against the rocking vehicle—but you were not going to fall. Blood seeps onto his clothing, though he pays the mess no heed for once. 

“Don’t need your help either,” you scoff, returning his words back to him as you lean against the worn seat. It’s cold. So cold, but you’d rather die than admit it hurts. “Get off me.”

“I’ll drive.” His rich voice finally has a body once more as he settles into his copilot seat. He can visualise the path back to the Yaoqing already—back to the messy, warm place you call home. Where you linger on all those stupid trinkets, the decorations you put up, and the food simmering in the pot on your stove—he knows the route like the back of his scarred hand. 

“I’m fine. It’s not that deep, and Jiaoqiu will take a look at it anyway.”  Jiaoqiu. His lips curl into a sneer as the dashboard lights up—flipping switches with such harsh precision it’s much too apparent that he’s in a terrible mood. 

“Or A-hua,” you add, and his heartbeat becomes something twisted and wretched as he hears the dimmed affection in your voice. You’re tying off the bandage tight around your side—very rudimentary first aid, but the priority is to get as far away as possible from this facility while their systems go down.

“Neither of them will be in when we report to Feixiao.” 

He doesn’t quite know why he lies: syllables rolling off his tongue like a blunder, yet he manages to keep his voice steady. 

“Then I’ll give myself stitches.” So damn stubborn, he thinks. He’s irritated, for reasons unclear to him. 

“No, this was because of me. I’ll treat you.” He doesn’t know why he insists either; one thing he knows for sure though, is that he can’t help but cling onto the scent of your embodiment. Blood and sweat, laundry powder and soap. You. It’s nothing like the damp of his cell. 

“No thanks. You’d probably—hah—use this opportunity to get rid of me,” you wince out. Well, he cants his head in thought—you’re not wrong. He might’ve left you behind: no regrets, no more dead weight. 

“You think so little of me?” 

“Yes. Why else would you come close?” On edge—that’s what he can hear in the tremulous pulse beneath the flesh, all torn and never at ease. It’s not fearful, precisely, but gone is the casual annoyance in your tone—it’s more of a void acceptance, as though you’re stating the obvious. 

To answer your question, he doesn’t know. He’d normally recoil at the sight of the dried blood on his clothes—scrubbing at his skin the moment he could—but he’s absent-mindedly pulling at the threads laved in you with a hand not preoccupied by steering. 

“Anyways. If you keep pushing it, you’ll be permanently dubbed that nickname you so hate.” 

“Don’t care.” He meets your eyes through the reflection of the glass window. One gaze—flinty and stubborn. The other pair of eyes—silent and unyielding. “I’m treating you before we report to Feixiao.”

“Little A-ze is all grown up now, huh,” you mutter, and the prefix you put in front of his name is cold and distant. It tastes quite bitter, and for that reason he doesn’t deign to speak for the rest of the flight. 

For once, he’s truly living up to his description of being reticent. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

“Why’d you do such a stupid move?” With each agonised beat of your heart, the needle jabs into one side of your flesh and extends past the other. This may have been taken as to mean he’s fast with your treatment—but your pulse is as sluggish as barely molten lava, burbling and gurgling like you’re on your last legs. “Look after yourself first.”

The towel he painstakingly placed on your couch is spattered with sanguine. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too lost in delirium to realise the gravity of this situation: Moze, kneeling by your side as he carefully stitches you back up. So delirious, you don’t notice his heavy gaze and scarred hands that reverently handle the tools that pierce your body. 

“A-ze,” you slur, half-conscious as you bring a scalding hand to press against his boreal face. He freezes, like he really is made of ice. But alas, your hand falls back to your side just as quickly and his expression settles back into a scowl. 

“I could’ve escaped,” you murmur, eyes heavy with slumber. “But then you would’ve been in trouble.”

I wouldn’t have been, he wants to say back. You and your idiotic plans. He’s thought it before and thinks it now—he really fucking hates them. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he instead grits out, tying off the last stitch with the scissors with a clinical professionality that you’re quite astounded then. “Look after yourself, and I’ll do the same.”

“Shut up and get out then,” you retort—and he plucks the roll of bandages you were planning on winding around your side. You blink: taken aback once more. 

“No.” 

No? 

“Fuckface,” you comment bitterly, though there’s a certain decrease in volume as he winds his arms slowly around your torso to wrap the cloth around you. Like this, his silver tufts of hair brush past your chin—strangely clean smelling for an assassin. And when you rest your palms on his upper back to alleviate the tension in your side, you swear he freezes. 

“Idiot,” he slams back; though, there’s a certain rapidity to his pulse as your chest is right in his eyeline. It’s steady, rising and falling with each even breath you have: naked muscle just about grazing his nose. For the first time in ages, his fingers waver in his task. 

“Call Jiaoqiu then,” you shrug. He’s tucking the ends of the bandage into itself, so you miss how the faint flush on his face immediately fades. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Call who over?”

The foxian stands in the doorway with a pleased, close-eyed smile—much like the cat that finally got the cream. He’s grinning, Moze realises with horror; he saw the vulnerability in his shoulders, even if for a brief second.

Shit. He didn’t even notice. 

“Jiaoqiu?” You take your hand off his shoulder to wave; the man can no longer suppress the irritation in his expression. 

“In the flesh!” 

“Wow, you really don’t look good,” he continues, voice drawing closer as he inspects your bloodied torso. 

“Yeah, because I’m stuck with the fucker who lied about you not being—”

Moze presses his palm against your mouth—heart erratic at the feeling of soft lips against his hand, though it has nothing to do with you. More of the fact that he’s never been so close to someone like this. Yeah. That’s the reason. 

“Why are you here, Jiaoqiu?” he replies in your stead, ignoring how incredulously your gaze pierces into the side of his face. 

“So cold! You two are late to report even though you arrived half a system hour ago! But I totally understand, Moze.” Jiaoqiu’s smile does not quite reach his eyes as his gaze flitters between you and the assassin. That, perhaps, would be the usual description of how the foxian smiles regardless, but especially so today. “He’s injured, after all. Why not let me treat him before the two of you report to our Arbiter-General?”

“Pah–!” With a gasp, you finally wrench his hand from your mouth—glaring at him all the while. “That would be great, Jiaoqiu, thank you.”

Thus, the assassin is left simmering on the other side of your living room: daggers jabbing right into the other man’s back as he finishes your treatment off with a bowl of scorching hot broth. And though he doesn’t outright say it, Jiaoqiu is evidently amused by this turn of events—much like he’s amused with every irritated tell of Moze’s as he inches ever closer to you with his sly smile. 

Sorry, friend, he surmises. Not much of a chance you’ve got. 

It’s a great day for the fox, but not so much for the crow who seethes in the corner. 

⁺ 　 . ✦

[themisteriousentity]

"Golden Deer is boring though it's lackluster, the characters aren't as strong as the other paths there's less conflict-"

You fool. You absolute buffon. Golden Deer is perfectly designed. Not only does it feed into the whole "alliance" theme well by having the characters still work together despite their differences and feelings well before hitting those A supports, but it's ALSO the only route that actually puts the focus on YOU the player. Or, rather, Byleth themself

Black Eagle is about whether or not you can agree to Edelgard's ideals of acceptable sacrifice and perspective that there's only 1 way to do things. The branching happens when you decide whether or not you agree, but ultimately it just explores opposing or agreeing with Edelgard. Anything more than that is really just incidental to that main concept, whether it's Crimson Flower or Silver Snow, the entire time you're focused either on helping Edelgard achieve her goals or you're focused on showing her how wrong she is alongside the Black Eagles who think it's their duty to correct Edelgard's wrongs (and I have a whole separate thing in regards to how the cast acts in Crimson Flower verses Silver Snow). It works really well for characters designed around an empire, a domineering form of government where (usually) a singular ruler determines the course and focus

Blue Lions is focused entirely on working on past issues and learning to bring yourself into the present, but it's done almost entirely through the cast more than the player. The Blue Lions themselves all have their own traumas and deep-seated past issues that hinder or help progress. While both Blue Lions and Black Eagles have a lot in common when it comes to traumatized characters and ideology, the ideology is front and center, while in Boue Lions, their interpersonal conflicts are front and center. This shows especially in the final (non romance) scene, where Dimitri decides that his personal attachment to Edelgard and past memories still matter, and he reaches out a hand, despite her immediately trying to kill him. It's fitting for a route designed around a kingdom, which is usually built entirely on interpersonal dealings between the ruling class

Golden Deer, however, is designed very differently. Unlike the other 3 routes, the player, or more specifically Byleth, is put as the driving force instead of the Lord. And this is actually what makes Golden Deer such a good route and one with the best ending of all of them. Claude has ideals, but he isn't a person who wants to force others to follow his path like Edelgard. Claude has lived a life of strife where his past motivates him, but it doesn't chain him the same way it does Dimitri. Instead, he works on understanding everyone around him and working together towards agreed upon goals, while taking on stuff that isn't agreed upon onto himself. But more than that, while all the Lord's value your opinion, Claude is the only one who actually takes what Byleth wants (rather than just what they think about specific matters) into consideration for his plans. Repeatedly you tell Seteth in Silver Snow that you don't want to kill Edelgard, but he pushes that you have no choice. Pretty much the entire first half of Azure Moon is Dimitri ignoring you. And in Crimson Flower, you've all but completely submitted to Edelgard's will with a couple of exceptions (which actually proves my point because it's specifically in regards to the Golden Deer because you can fight the entirety of Crimson Flower while sparing all of them except for Judith). But in Verdant Wind, Claude doesn't hide that he has a problem with the church and wants Rhea gone. In Golden Wildfire, without Byleth, he's more than happy to just get rid of her without a second thought. But when Byleth is the protagonist, he goes out of his way to accommodate your wants into his plans and goals. When you express as the player that you want to reason with Edelgard and ponder if you can't walk the same path, Claude agrees with you and says he'll make it happen if he can, with the other Golden Deer mostly agreeing. When that,can't happen you both lament the fact that Edelgard gave you no choice together. He makes finding Rhea a priority, mostly because as curious as he is in general, he wants to help you find out answers only Rhea can give you. And all of the Golden Deer do this to some extent, with each other but also with you as the player. I think Hilda and Marianne's A supports with Byleth show this best personally, but that's a personal opinion. And it just works so well for a route designed around the idea of an alliance, people coming together and agreeing to work towards a goal bigger than themselves

And that's not to say the other routes aren't as good as Golden Deer, they're all equally well written, but it just makes me sad when I see people giving the Golden Deer route grief just because the characters aren't the same when it does its theme so beautifully

[tomicscomics]

12/08/2023

On your Mark...

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. The Gospel of Mark begins by talking about John the Baptist.  In a few quick verses, Mark says John was a desert-dweller who came to baptize people in preparation for the Messiah's ministry.  Mark also argues that John's coming was prophesied by Isaiah, who said there would come a voice crying out in the desert, a messenger sent ahead of the Lord, making straight His paths.  Some of John's followers assumed that John himself was the Messiah, but John told them, "One mightier than I is coming after me.  I am not worthy to loosen His sandals.  I baptize you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." 2. In this cartoon, the key verses about "going ahead of the Lord" and "making straight His paths" and "one mightier than I is coming" have been torn from their sacred context and crudely slapped into the new and exciting context of Jesus and John playing Tag as kids. 3. Jesus muses that John always runs in a straight line, making it easy to follow him, and quotes Isaiah as Mark did.  However, unlike Mark's quote, which implied John was preparing his followers for Jesus, Jesus's quote simply implies John is bad at Tag-tics -- that is, the tactics of Tag -- and has erred gravely in accepting Christ's challenge. 4. At the end, John screams in panic.  In Mark's Gospel, he says, "One mightier than I is coming after me," because he knows the true Messiah, Jesus, will be joining public ministry shortly, and he wants people to anticipate His coming.  In this cartoon, John says, "One mightier than I is coming after me," because his little Cousin has come after him with a speed that far exceeds his own, and when John is terrified, he screams like a maniac.

[wangxianficfinder]

Mod Favorites pt.1 ~ (Miss Mojo's ❤️ Favorite tag on AO3)

❤️Miss Mojo (@mojoflower / original creator of wangxianficrecs 2020 and wangxianficfinder 2022)

💖Mod L (@ladyunderthemolehill / Mod since January/27/2022)

🧡Mod C (@misscellophane-ao3 / Mod since April/23/2022)

💙Mod Kay (@the-last-d-boy / Mod for @wangxianficrecs since November/19/2022)

~*~

Mod L

💖 Things better shown by deliciousblizzardshark (M, 5k, wangxian, trans LWJ, pregnant LWJ, accidental baby acquisation, fix-it)

💖🔒The Lotus Defense Society by mondengel (T, 3k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, humor)  

💖 mianmian the disaster lesbian saves the cultivation world by likeshipsonthesea (T, 27k, wangxian, LWJ & LQY, LWJ & JZX,  fix-it, friendship, awesome LQY, war, blood & injury, light angst, self-acceptance, awkward JZX) 

💖 hot necromancer singles seeking dom daddies in your area by Mikkeneko (M, 19k, wangxian, yiling wei sect au, BDSM scene, dom/sub, brat wwx, rope bondage, caning, aftercare)  

💖 Xiao-Ying of the Third Refugee Village by abCEE (T, 31k, wangxian, WWX banished from Jiang sect, not Jiang friendly, found family, mpreg, fluff, flirting)  

💖 (🧡) Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, grief/mourning, angst w happy ending)

💖🔒 After Truth Lies the Honest Path by Vrishchika (M, 10k, wangxian, canon divergence, truth serum, WIP)  

💖 (❤️)🔒love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)  

💖🔒hello my old heart, how have you been? by ravenditefairylights (M, 10k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, trauma, pining, hair washing & brushing)  

💖 You, Asleep and Dreaming by etymologyplayground (M, 9k, wangxian, post-canon, 5+1. LWJ pov, sharing a bed, cuddling & snuggling, intimacy, getting together, fluff)  

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not Rated, 279k, WangXian, CQL Verse, Golden core reveal, Fix-it of sorts, Angst with a happy ending)  

💖 Minding series by WithBroomBefore (G, 85k, wangxian, canon divergence, what if WWX got therapy and recovery post-sunshot, trans LWJ)  

💖 Love made visible by Moominmammashandbag (M, JYL/ZZL, wangxian, hurt/Comfort, amputation, major character injury, sibling love, angst w happy ending, cooking as cultivation, attempted rape/non-con, sexual assault, minor character death, family angst, dysfunctional family, protective siblings, near drowning, amnesia)  

💖 hear my voice and it's been here by Sour_Idealist (E, 56k, JYL/NHS, wangxian, 5th in series, canon divergence, sect leader JYL, sect leader WQ, sunshot campaign, JYL pov, politics)  

💖🔒Advisable Lan rules and other shenanigans by apathyinreverie (G, 4k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, fix-it, humor, drunk LWJ, smitten LWJ, soft WWX, possessive LWJ, gusu lan rules, drunk shenanigans, fluff)  

💖 Soft boys being soft- Wangxian soft fics by deliciousblizzardshark (multiple works, 228k)  

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, first love, love confessions, fluff & humor, denial, pining, happy ending)  

💖 (💙) Paths untaken by apathyinreverie (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, canon divergence, fix-it, fluff, not cultivation world friendly, smitten LWJ)  

💖 (💙) And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, wangxian, canon divergence, grief/mourning, amnesia, implied/referenced sexual assault, angst, hurt/comfort, falling in love, domestic, happy ending)  

💖 sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, wangxian, arranged marriage, different first meeting, falling in love, getting together, lwj in lotus pier, Chinese culture)

💖🔒 Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, wangxian, post-canon, fix-it, fluff & angst, hurt/comfort, de-aging, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, cuddling & snuggling, BAMF WWX, horny teenagers, underage kissing)  

💖 (🧡) Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not rated, 810k, wangxian, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, Basically Whatever I Want, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery, WIP)  

💖🔒The Ballad of Hanguang-Jun and The Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 40k, wangxian, JC/WQ, burial mounds  settlement days, fix-it of sorts, musical theater au, misunderstandings, outsider pov)

💖 The Eternal Recurrence by countingcr0ws (E, 51k, wangxian, time traveler’s wife au, underage kissing, time travel, romance, fatherhood, family, poetry, coming of age, getting together)  

💖 I’d be the one to hold you down (kiss you so hard) by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool (E, 85k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, NMJ/LXC, modern, leverage au, canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, depression, heists, found family, murder, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending)  

💖 Fanclubs do, in fact, save lives series by nienie (T, 6k, wangxian, fluff & crack, getting together, JGS getting what he deserves) 

💖 myself through someone else’s eyes series by thunderwear (M, 59k, wangxian, LJY & LSZ, LXC/NMJ, LXC/JGY, JC & WWX, post-canon, permanent de-aging, depression, implied/referenced suicide, accidental baby acquisation, getting together, love confessions, heavy angst w/ happy ending)  

💖 Paths of Light and Darkness Converge by ataratah (E, 30k, wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, secret identity, non-human genitalia, crack treated seriously, fluff, angst w/ happy ending) 

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied/Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect, mind all the tags)

💖🔒sudden nature series by everbrighter (M, 97k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, 5+1, family feels, parenthood, teenage rebellion, past character death, resurrection, pining, domestic fluff, angst, happy ending)  

💖 oh they call us young and free (hold the golden gates open) by Treha (T, 11k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, hurt/comfort, BAMF WWX, implied/referenced suicide, fluff & humor)  

💖 Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC's Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit, mind the tags just in case)  

~*~

Mod C

🧡 I Don’t Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality show, Idols, Actor LWJ, Forced Contestant WWX, Celebrity, Social Media, Epistolary, Romance, Fluff, Kissing, Poetry, [Podfic] I Don't Want to Debut! by PandaReads (DrPanda99)) 

🧡 Like Rabbits by Setari (T, 41k, WangXian, Kid fic, Canon rewrite, Mpreg, Miscarriage scare, Crack treated seriously, Hopeful ending)  

🧡🔒 do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick (T, 12k, WangXian, WQ & LSZ, WQ & LWJ, Found Family, Brother-Sister Relationships, Reincarnation, WQ wasn't given Meng Po's soup, Reunions, awkward cousins lwj and wq, wq is a creepy child, Grief/Mourning, Trauma, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Rebirth, Soul-Searching, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt)  

🧡 don't threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media) 

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

🧡 a paper friend by soft_wanning (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Paperman!WWX, Identity Porn, Meet-Cute, Different First Meeting) 

🧡🔒your heart, two doors down by ghostsgf (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pining, Parenting)  

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)  

🧡 (💙) Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 762k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)  

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)  

🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder)  

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas  (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma)  

🧡🔒Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Light Angst, Crime Boss LWJ, Rogue criminal genius WWX)   

🧡🔒scienter Series by synonemous (E, 67k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, Eventual happy ending, WangXian's Canon Kinks, Smut, A/B/O, Mpreg, Modern Yi City arc, Angst with a happy ending)  

🧡 tear out the thread one by one from your skin (’til your bones feel embarrassed by all the attention) by lightningalwaysreturns (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern AU, Holidays, Getting Together, Professors, Pining, Spring, Fluff and Smut, Family, single dad lwj, so many novel refs, Explicit Sexual Content, service top lwj/power bottom wwx vibes)

🧡 some life yet unspent by Fahye (E, 28k, WangXian, Background XiYao, Spy AU, Modern AU, 007 LWJ, Q WWX, Fluff and angst, Mutual pining, Injuries, Canon typical violence)

🧡 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, a bit of beefleaf, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time, TGCF)  

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)  

🧡 (💖) One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It's There) by H_Belle (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Pining LWJ, POV WWX, Background Wangxian Getting Together, Jiangs are only mentioned in the passing, inspired by a tumblr post)  

🧡 close your eyes, feel my heartbeat by ThatDesiGirl (T, 11k, WangXian, blind!WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rewriting Canon, not a fix-it but a what-if, Golden Core Transfer, Romance, Pining)  

🧡 (❤️) a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 180k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, arranged marriage) 

🧡 Feline misconduct: How Wei Wuxian defeated catboyphobia and seduced his way into becoming Lan Wangji’s lap cat by Papriqua, vicchan (E, 44k, WangXian, Catboy WWX, Mpreg, Eventual Smut, Homophobia, Not JC Friendly, Cloud recesses study Era)

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)  

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hairstylist AU, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental style)  

🧡🔒Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting)  

🧡 i will find you again by Pip (Moirail) (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Haunting, Horror, Reincarnation, Fate & Destiny, author lwj, Haunted Houses, Happy Ending)  

🧡 Timing is Everything by Talayse (T, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, canon levels of blood, soft, caretaker LWJ)  

🧡 Of Ghosts and Heroes by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 51k, AS & WWX, AS/YH, WangXian, BNHA/MHA Crossover, Dimension Travel, POV Outsider, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst)

🧡 i walk through your dreams and invent the future by TooSel (G, 21k, wangxian, major character death, time traveler’s wife fusion, canon compliant, time travel, friends to lovers, getting together, fluff, hurt/comfort, grief, angst w/ happy ending)  

🧡 built by the fires of volcanoes by isabilightwood (T, 26k, wangxian, time travel, crack treated seriously, canon divergence, fluff & humor)  

🧡 Hello, IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? By overmountainandmeadow (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Office, Modern office AU, IT Director! LWJ, Graphic Designer! WWX, Father!LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Juniors as interns, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, Identity Porn, Rabbits, Cloud Recesses as a company, Happy Ending, Single Parent LWJ)  

~*~

Mod Kay

💙🔒Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending)  

💙 (🧡)🔒Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, WangXian, 3rd person pov, implied offscreen wangxian sex)  

💙🔒Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, modern w/ cultivation, getting back together, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, case fic, pining)

💙 feel better love by Anonymous (T, 8k, WIP, WangXian, implied WangXianXian, Post-Canon, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, in a haha jk...unless? way, Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crack, Crossover)  

💙🔒 Call again by apathyinreverie (T, 5k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, modern, oblivious WWX, gremlin LXC, smitten LWJ, possessive LWJ, not Jiang friendly, hints at mafia, fluff, romance)  

💙🔒Song Unwritten by Kytrin & Mslead (E, 94k, wangxian, temporary character death, angst w/ happy ending, fix-it of sorts, cql meets mdzs, parallel universes, transmigration, yiling wei sect au, YLLZ WWX)

💙 (🧡)🔒不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, wangxian, time travel, reincarnation, fix-it of sorts, social media, identity porn, reunion, pining, angst w/ happy ending, modern era, artist WWX)

💙🔒The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ,  Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide)  

💙🔒catch and release (and catch again) by Gaez (bell_flowers) (T, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Bloodbath of Nightless City, Loss of Limbs, just a little necromancy, as a treat, not exactly jc friendly)

💙 on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, WangXian, Dark JC, not for jc fans, Captivity, Angst with a Happy Ending, no reconciliation though, definitely no reconciliation, Crossdressing, Non-Graphic Torture, Violence)

💙 the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern culitvation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Sort Of, Getting Together, Confessions)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending)

💙 Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending)

💙 When You Finally Find Your Family Series by Eleanor_Fenyx (T, 56k, WIP, WangXian, descriptions of canon events, ie WWX's childhood on the streets, Fix-It, Autistic coded LWJ, Canon-adjacent, Canon Divergence, Homeless WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, wwx is a lan, Fluff and Angst, LQR pov, (mainly))

💙 Talking to Strangers by thetrickisnotminding (G, 4k, NMJ & WWX, LSZ & NMJ, NHS & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Age Regression/De-Aging, Curses, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

💙 All the ways that you remain by Spodumene (G, 23k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canada, Romance, First Meetings, Cottagecore, There Was Only One Bed, Mention of Parent Death, Getting Together)

💙 Love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, WangXian, Happy Ending, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Misunderstandings, Famous LWJ, Coffee Shop Owner WWX, Finding each other again, Found Families, Stupid Grand Romantic Gestures)

💙 divulgences by ataraxistence (Not Rated, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions)

💙 something so flawed and free by verseau (E, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Graduate School, Dom/sub, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Sexual Submission, Kink Negotiation, Biting, Overstimulation, Cock Warming, Consensual Non-Consent, Spanking)

💙 Strange Darling by etymologyplayground (T, 6k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Intimacy, Hair Brushing, platonic gay intimacy, Getting Together, Miscommunication, Cuddling & Snuggling, LWJ POV, Canon Divergence)

💙 (❤️) the best of you by sysrae (E, 41k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, slightly undernegotiated kink, but in a very soft and consensual way, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JFM and Madam Yu's A+ parenting, Dysfunctional Family, Mental Health Issues therapy is good actually, the most tender of railings, Reference to animal attacks/animal cruelty, descriptions of past violence)

💙 Those Who Defy by qurbat (G, 31k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, found families are the best families, everyone who matters lives, justice for the wen remnants)

💙 (❤️) the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 39k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, set after the yiling date, sick child)

💙 (🧡) Bleachwhite Linen by MonocerosRex (T, 44k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, not the traditional kind of soulmates exactly, you'll see, Hospitals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Getting Together, Marriage Proposal, Sibling Bonding, handwaving medical procedure and magical systems, Sickfic, POV Multiple, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sleepy Cuddles)

💙 (❤️) save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Single Parent WWX, Homophobia, LQR’s A+ Parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots to lovers)

💙 And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, lwj needs a hug, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

💙 (🧡) I'm Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) by cosmicmilktea (T, 16k, WangXian, Various OC Sect disciples, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mentor WWX, intersect relations, cultivation sects, Slow Burn, Like seriously it's very slow, Sickness)

💙 Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💙 watch what we'll become by glitteringmoonlight (T, 59k, WWX & JZX, WangXian, Background JZX/JYL, WWX & JZX are married but completely platonically, featuring my let WWX and JZX be bros agenda, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💙 the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by beesinspades (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, Post-Canon, Jack of All Trades Artist WWX, Immortal! LWJ, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Reunions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Asexual Character, good vibes, [Podfic] the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by beeinspades by Beria1021)

💙 The Peanut Butter Jar AU series by ScarlettStorm (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, Like a lot of scent kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens, Pacific Northwest setting, Established Relationship, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Some A/B/O Dynamics, but in a non a/b/o world, No mpreg, yes self-lubrication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

💙 Regrets by antebunny (G, 38k, wangxian, miscommunication, misundersandings, time travel fix-it, temporary character death, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort)

💙 What We Grew in this Forsaken Place by Admiranda (T, 27k, WangXian, Shapeshifter LWJ, bottle episode fic, bunny crimes, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, WWX is a genius, unexpected pet owner WWX)

~*~

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XVIII)

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Hi! Here is new chapter! This is a very important chapter… I hope you like it!!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wisdom

This I say, and this I know: Love has seen the last of me. Love's a trodden lane to woe, Love's a path to misery.

This I know, and knew before, This I tell you, of my years: Hide your heart, and lock your door. Hell's afloat in lovers' tears.

Give your heart, and toss and moan; What a pretty fool you look! I am sage, who sit alone; Here's my wool, and here's my book.

Look! A lad's a-waiting there, Tall he is and bold, and gay. What the devil do I care What I know, and what I say?

Dorothy Parker

Classes for the first semester were over. The Christmas Holiday season had come to a close as well, leaving you buried under piles of articles and documents and books to help you get ready for the new classes that would start after the end of the exams.

It was snowing outside, a part of the Liffey had frozen during the night, apparently. Some idiot had tried walking on it, had fallen into the river, you had heard it on the news. He was equipped for a swim in cold waters, but still… how silly people could be…

You were in bed, you checked the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. Almost midnight. You heaved a sigh. You ought to stop, catch a few hours of sleep before heading to work tomorrow. But you had a thousand things to do and to plan and… God, so many things still…

You were distracted by the vibration of your phone on the bed, looked for it in a hurry under the covers. You frowned as you read Frank’s name on your screen, picked up with a worried frown on your brow. Something ought to be wrong…

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

You recognised the sound of his voice. He was drunk and had been crying. When the two of you were together, he was only in this state when you had a huge fight.

“You’re alright?” you asked him, knowing the answer.

“No, I’m not… God, I’m really not, Y/N. Can you… can you pick me up? I’m drunk, I can’t drive, I don’t know where to go… Christ, I’ve fucked up so bad tonight… please, help me…”

You looked at all the work you had left to do, looked at the time again, but heaved a sigh. Not accepting to help wasn’t even a possibility…

“I’ll come and pick you up. Where are you right now?” you asked him, and you heard the sigh of relief he heaved at your words.

“I’m downtown. At a pub… hang on, I’ll give you the address…”

“What happened? Where’s Samantha?”

He sniffed.

“We had a row.”

You nodded, not surprised.

“Like… a huge one. Our first row. I… I’ve fucked up. She’s home. I can’t go home, I don’t know where to go…”

“You can stay at my place for tonight,” you offered. “It’s alright, I’m on my way.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N… thank you,” he mumbled, the lilt of his accent more pronounced as his words were slurred by alcohol.

“Don’t mention it. I’m leaving now, stay where you are.”

You hurried out of bed, put on some clothes, grabbed your keys. You typed a text while you were in the lift.

Hi, Andy!

Just a warning: Sam and Frank had a row tonight, seems quite bad. Omw to get Frank from some bar downtown. He’ll stay at my place for tonight. Sam might call you too.

You were walking to your car when he answered.

Thanks for the warning. Sam has just texted me, I’ll go to hers.

Good luck with Frank.

You sat behind the wheel, locked your car before answering.

Good luck with Sam too!

You were about to put your phone away in your purse when it vibrated again.

Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.

A tender smile softened your features.

Will do xx

You put your phone away, started driving. It took you a while to find the pub, but Frank was eager to leave, and you were relieved not to have to fight him for his car keys or something like that. Instead, he obediently entered your car. His eyes were red and puffy, he stunk of whiskey, cheap beer, and cigarettes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, voice made deeper by the liquor, words slurred.

“No problem. Let’s go to my place.”

He nodded in silence, dried his eyes.

“What happened?” you asked as you drove, the streets empty at this hour, the lampposts the only sources of light in the sleeping city as clouds heavy with rain were hiding the moon and stars.

“Sam and I had a fight.”

You hummed.

“What was it about?”

“Something stupid. Fucking stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like… something about the wedding. About the guests we should put together, and I was like… like who cares? People can just… sit… wherever they like. But she was making plans, and I took the piss, and she got… so fucking mad and…”

He sniffed, looked by the window at the empty streets.

“Was fucking stupid.”

“You got angry?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said something stupid?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“You generally say stupid and hurtful things when you’re really angry.”

“I don’t mean them.”

“I know. It still hurts.”

He heaved a sigh, rested his forehead against the windowpane.

“I think it was a long-time coming though. We’ve been bickering a lot. I don’t know… it’s just been a lot of stress these past few weeks. I thought it would be better after the New Year’s Eve party, but it wasn’t.”

You slowly nodded.

“I mean… you’ve been moving very fast through this relationship. Maybe you’ve skipped a few steps along the way, and you’re feeling it now.”

He remained quiet for the rest of the drive. When you reached your apartment building, he stared at you, but said nothing.

You helped him through the elevator and hallways all the way to your flat. You texted Andrew that you were safely home while Frank was struggling with his shoes.

Andrew answered in seconds with a thumbs up.

“You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?”

Frank’s voice brought you back to your apartment, made you put your phone away and turn to him instead.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer, even if this was the perfect moment to speak your mind. You were too taken aback for that.

“Everybody does,” Frank nodded. “Everybody thinks I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have… I don’t know anymore… Maybe… Maybe I’ve made a mistake, and I shouldn’t have left and… I don’t know… I don’t know…”

“I think you’re moving very fast. I think all this is going too fast,” you spoke with a gentle voice, moving closer to him. “I mean… you pushed back the engagement, then the wedding, when we were together. While this is so sudden… Everything about you and Sam seems sudden.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to do, I… I want it to be fast though, I don’t want to think things through this time around. I don’t want to be cautious, the way we were, you and I, Y/N. I just… I want to live this fully.”

He rubbed at his tired eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t make any sense right now…”

“You should go to bed,” you gave him a sad smile, but he didn’t notice, he was too tired for that, or… you didn’t know why… but he didn’t notice.

You gave him a pillow and a blanket so he could settle on the couch, he thanked you, closed his eyes.

Before you could move away, he grabbed your hand in his, gave it a tight squeeze. You wanted to cry now.

And then, he surrendered to sleep, and he let go.

Sam wasn’t crying anymore when Andrew arrived to her flat, but her eyes were red and puffy with tears that had already fallen. She let him inside, offered him something to drink while he took off his coat, gloves, beanie and scarf, but he declined. He turned to her with a tender smile, something full of compassion.

“You’re okay? How are you feeling?” he asked with a voice he made deeper than usual, knowing it calmed her down.

“Not great,” she admitted.

“You had a fight with Frank, then?”

“Yeah… we… I… It was pretty bad.”

“Bad?”

“It was a big row.”

“Was he mean to you?” Andrew’s voice shook, a frown digging a line between his eyebrows. “Did he threaten you?”

“What? No! Of course not! We just had a row.”

He visibly relaxed, took a step closer to her. They were standing in her living room, the night was quiet. He wanted to reach out, but he didn’t dare.

“What was it about? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged, but took a step closer to him too, standing close, so close… He could have pulled her into an embrace so easily…

“We fought about the wedding. We… we don’t want the same thing.”

“About what?”

“Silly things. Unimportant details, to be honest. But I didn’t know how to react to it… like… I know you sigh a lot when you’re annoyed. I know your voice quietens first, and then you raise it. I know you get petty when you’re really angry. I know you need to spend time alone to cool down. I know you’ll want to have the last word no matter whether you’re right or wrong, but you’ll never admit it. I know that it’s useless to simply bury the hatchet, that you’ll bring it up again later if we don’t discuss it when the issue arises. I know you don’t talk about what you feel, that I should not be offended if you just lock yourself up in your office until you’re calmer and we can talk about it. I know it’s useless to make you acknowledge your feelings. I know you’re so fucking stubborn when you really want to be. I know… I know how to deal with you, even with your anger, even with the ugliest of your feelings. Cause I… I know you. But I didn’t know how to handle him. I got mad, and he got mad and I didn’t know what to do. And I made things worse. I don’t know what to do…”

She looked up at him with this specific gaze, and he knew what she needed. He knew it, because he knew her. And she had just told him what he was already painfully aware of, that she knew him like the back of her hand. And perhaps this was the part he missed the most now that he was alone. That he used to have someone who knew him so completely.

He wrapped his arms around her, because he knew she needed a hug. She needed to feel safe and warm, and indeed she rested her head on his shoulder easily.

He held her close, the way he had thousands of times before. He always found solace in it, something soothing, anchoring. When she rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, to thank him in a whisper for coming, his chest grew a little warm but he was surprised when his heart didn’t stumble. It didn’t rush, didn’t miss a few beats. It remained steady, although it was content. And the arms that used to soothe him were a nice embrace, a gentle shelter to rest, but they lacked something. Something… he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew that he didn’t feel the way he used to when they held on each other before. He knew he felt less than before.

They remained motionless, bathed in silence for a few minutes, the sound of their breathing the only sign of life in the room. His mind wandered off, instead of being anchored in the moment, unlike the way she used to force his brain to quieten down. Instead, he thought about the classes he had to prepare for the rest of the year, the exams coming up, he thought of Frank and was angry at him for hurting Sam, and he thought of you. He was suddenly worried about you, he hadn’t received any text from you yet, to tell him you were home. Were you alright? It was so late into the night and you were driving to a pub downtown, after all…

He felt his phone buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans, pulled away from the hug. He didn’t notice Sam’s puzzled expression.

“Andy?” she looked up at him with a questioning look.

He didn’t notice she was speaking. He heaved a relieved sigh instead.

I’m home. All good xx

He answered with a mere thumbs up.

“Andy?”

This time he looked up from his phone, put the device in his back pocket again.

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay?”

But he knew her. He knew her better than anyone else in this world. He knew this question meant ‘who is texting you at such an hour?’.

“Yeah… erm… It was Y/N. Frank called her to pick him up at a pub.”

“Did he?” she asked, clearly jealous.

Andrew hummed and nodded.

“He’ll stay at her place for the night.”

“Right…”

She seemed uneasy now. Worried.

“And why was she telling you this anyway?”

“Because you asked me to come here too,” he merely answered.

“So, she picked him up?”

“Yeah, they’re at her apartment.”

“Why is she telling you all this?”

“It’s late. I asked her to tell me when she’d be home, just to make sure she was safe.”

She stared at Andrew with an unreadable expression, one he didn’t know how to analyse, despite how well he knew her. Was it a new one? Did he simply… fail at reading her this time?

“Can you stay tonight?”

The question came out of the blue, took him aback.

Stay the night…

“I… don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.

And Andrew wasn’t sure what she meant. Probably for him to sleep on the sofa, but there was something in her eyes… No, she didn’t mean for him to sleep on the sofa…

It was his chance to get her back, and he knew it. He knew it. He could have her back, maybe, he could try, at least…

He thought about kissing her then, closing the distance between them, finding back what they had lost. But instead, he…

Instead, he thought of your lips on his, of your weight in his arms, of your kiss on his cheek while a new year was born.

He wanted to kiss you. He didn’t want to kiss Sam at all…

He didn’t want Frank to be with you now, in your apartment. He didn’t want you to kiss him, he didn’t want you to be with him, and God almighty, he could feel his heart racing at the thought that you could have sex with him…

Slowly, he shook his head.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he mumbled, his voice not sounding like his own.

“But I…”

“I’m sorry… I… I should go. I should go…”

He hurried to her front door, while Sam remained standing in her living room, too stunned by Andrew’s actions to move or say anything. Before she could go back to her senses, Andrew had left.

He had left. When he sat down behind the wheel, he didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t understand his own actions. He could have tried to get Sam back, and instead… instead he had thought of you, he had… he had wished it was you who stood there before him, offering him a chance to kiss you…

Fucking hell… he bloody liked you. He liked you. He liked you enough to push Sam away…

Holy shit…

Andrew was pacing before a tired Alex, who was sitting on his sofa.

Andrew was lucky his best friend was a night owl like him, but even if he naturally longed to go to bed at an unreasonable hour, Alex was still longing to bury himself under his warmest blanket and finally go to sleep now that it was almost four in the morning.

But Andrew was still pacing. He had called Alex after leaving Sam’s flat, panicked, talking too fast about ‘catching feelings’ and ‘being a fucking eejit’ and ‘ruining everything’. Alex invited him to come over, and now Andrew was burning holes in his carpet…

“This is so bad, Alex. So fucking bad…”

“Calm down, it’s alright. You have a crush on Y/N, so what?”

“SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?! I don’t want to have a crush on Y/N! I want to have Sam back!”

“Not anymore, apparently.”

Andrew threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He had a thousand things to say and couldn’t speak them out loud, he just couldn’t. He was never good at this, opening up about his feelings… He buried them instead, and let them gnaw at his heart. Was it healthy? No, but he couldn’t help it. And then he wrote about it, and he felt better, lighter, and things were alright again.

But right now, he was too much in a state to grab some paper and pen and put it all down.

“This can’t be happening, Alex” he shook his head. “I can’t be catching feelings on Y/N.”

“Why not? She sounds like an amazing woman!”

“She is! Don’t get me wrong, she’s… incredible! But I want Sam.”

“You don’t anymore.”

“Of course, I bloody do!”

“Why did you push her away tonight, then?”

But Andrew wasn’t ready to admit that.

“I don’t know… I don’t know…”

“You’re falling for Y/N.”

“She’s my colleague! We share an office! We’re friends! We’re trying to get back with our exes! She’s still in love with the guy!”

“Well, tell yourself those arguments, cause apparently they haven’t prevented you from falling for her…”

“I haven’t fallen, I just… I fancy her, ‘s all.”

“Yeah, of course. Of bloody course.”

“Alright, I need to think straight.”

“Why do you want to get back with Sam so badly anyway?”

“Because… Because I love her. Because she… I’m…”

“The honest answer,” Alex argued, staring mercilessly at his friend.

And Andrew hated him at that moment, for knowing him so fucking well, for not cutting him any slack, for pressing him on into acknowledging how he felt… even the ugly side of himself…

He stuttered, went silent, but Alex was there to push him again. Until Andrew turned to the window and stared at the inky sky where not a single light remained uncovered by heavy clouds. All darkness. The kind so absolute, one would not see a thing if they were lost in it.

He imagined your features on that darkness, painted it with the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your lips, built your image on the nothingness of the world.

He wanted Sam… he wanted…

“I want someone to know me,” he whispered, feeling the heaviness of the confession drain all his strengths out of his body, feeling empty as he let the words leave. “I want… I want to be known. I want companionship. I’m afraid to be alone. I’m scared. I’m scared no one else is ever going to know me the way Sam does, and love me anyway. After all, even she couldn’t…”

He fell silent, sniffed as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“God, it’s so fucking hard to be unknown. To have no one like that anymore… It feels so fucking lonely…”

Alex had gotten up without a word nor sound, rested a hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Someone else can learn to know you that way again, Andy. You deserve it. You deserve to be loved for who you are. Maybe Y/N could…”

But Andrew shook his head, shook himself out of his friend’s grasp.

“No! No, this is ridiculous! I want Sam! I want Sam! I don’t want Y/N! It was just a flukes, just a glitch, just… I don’t know, a moment of madness! But I don’t want Y/N, I don’t like her, I want Sam…”

“Andy…”

“I want Sam. I must want Sam.”

Andrew rubbed at his forehead, tightly closing his eyes.

“And anyway… even if I don’t want Sam anymore, I can’t fall for Y/N. That’s just… that would just make everything so fucking complicated, and she’s so great, I can’t risk to lose her like that… That would be insane.”

“So… you could want someone else? I could introduce you to someone…”

“We’ll see… we’ll see… I… I don’t know.”

Andrew heaved a sigh, feeling the heaviness of sleep creep up his body. He looked at his watch.

“Christ, sorry, mate… it’s so fucking late… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You can sleep on the couch tonight, it’s too late for you to drive, and you’re too upset for that.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, mate.”

They exchanged a pair of tired smiles, and while Alex was gone looking for some spare blanket and pillow, Andrew was gathering his thoughts and feelings. Trying to calm down.

He wasn’t falling for you. He didn’t have a crush on you. He wanted Sam, he didn’t want you. He couldn’t want you.

Andrew didn’t like you… he couldn’t like you…

… right?

[valtsv]

still going crazy over VAL in the latest silt verses ep. she says "what a terrible thing, to be monstrous and not even know it" and acknowledges and emphasises her complicity in violence, her cruelty, her inhumanity - but she also shows us her kindness, her happiness, her pleasure in the small, ordinary things, her rage at the pointless horrors of war, her disgust, her self-awareness. she sings, she appreciates her surroundings, she gratefully accepts a hot drink from a stranger. she tells stories. she recognises the death and destruction around her as the destruction of human life. she perceives the ugly injustice of it. she is contradictory. she is multifaceted. she ignores orders from her superiors. she meanders from her given objective. she chooses to forge her own path.

what a terrible thing, to be a person and not even know it.

[tennessoui]

the prison AU!!!! oh my!! i do love evil manipulative obi-wan. this definitely has pretty bird vibes going on and i am here for it. and anakin...he's already on a dark path but god do i love a good corruption arc. and of course obi-wan is the head bitch in charge after only 2 months. he would accept nothing less. i imagine he has all the guards either paid off or otherwise under his influence. and of course he'll screw over palpatine. because after all, betrayal is the way of the sith.

[the prison au ficlet]

lol it's certainly a bit pretty bird but i think the anakin in this universe staunchly refuses to be obi-wan's dog and the anakin in the pretty bird verse is like 'if i have to hold my own leash even for a MOMENT i am going to burn the city to the GROUND' which is very valid for his entire corruption and, well, conditioning arc

but i think it would be very interesting if sith obi-wan's own desires for anakin shift and change as they get to know each other and obi-wan begins to train anakin to fall and give himself over to his darkness. obi-wan starts off wanting the dog sidious staked his claim on and then slowly realizes he wants anakin as a partner. fuck the rule of two where one is always a master over the apprentice, anakin has the makings for a perfect complement to obi-wan and obi-wan would be a fool to give that up

but yeah i think a key part of the au for when they're in prison is that obi-wan sort of mind-tricked his way in so no one actually realizes he's a Force user and he's able to get away with a lot by bullying the guards into giving it to him basically (which is how he moves cell blocks, then eventually cells so he shares with anakin - to keep up the ruse that their relationship is explicitly sexual and nothing else) (anakin finds himself terribly disappointed a few months in when he is not being taken advantage of like in the holos he's read about similar prison arrangements)

(and when obi-wan believes he's gained anakin's trust and even loyalty he gets the keys to his force suppressing bracelets from the guards and that's that)

[callmelyc]

Angsty post canon concept:

When Allura dies what if the Altean magic she used on Shiro and Lance weakens and that's how ppl find out Lance also died?

Both Lance and Shiro start with symptoms they can ignore and ones doctors brush aside. They get told it's fatigue, they get told it's after effects from fighting In the war like they had for all that time. Neither realize it all starts after Alluras death.

Then they end up with things unexplainable. Things like extreme full body tremors, sudden extreme chills and are icy cold to the touch no matter the temperature. Their bodies ache in the ways they had in their deaths but neither man admits it out loud too afraid of what that might mean so neither is aware they aren't alone is this bizarre and sudden turn of events.

It's not until Lance collapses and is rushed to the Garrison hospital that they discovered it something more.

His body deteriorating from the inside out seen visibly from their newest high tech scans. Rotting, closing down, slowing or lacking proper function like his body has given up. Like his body is referring backwards to lack of life but no one knows why.

It's almost like its frying itself from the inside out, it's path crawling closer and closer to his heart with every passing day like bolts of electricity pulsing more and more upward.

Shiro is the first to realize what it means once Lance is finally giving the symptoms they'd had to pry out of him. He realizes with dread that his fellow paladin has things that match up too close to his own.

He only realizes bc he's felt similar things, only his resemble his own death and he knows for a fact its thinfs in Excruciating pain, a pain he thought no one but himself would ever understand.

To get lance to admit what happened Shiro goes through the scans himself to prove his point. No one enjoys hearing Lances story, Allura hadn't even known she was capable of what she'd done to him So he's worse off than Shiro is and terrified of the idea of dying again this slowly

both get taken to an off planet hospital, one that could preserve their symptoms until the rest of their team and families could find a way to heal them

But without Alluras alchemy No one knew what to do.

First they try talking to the alteans on new altea but none have any knowledge of the alchemy allura had used for them

Then the team spreads out

Pidge uses her ranking in her field to gain any and all database information she can get her hands on

Hunk uses his connections To the Balmera and other species to attempt to find any information on healing abilities that might help

Keith is the most successful, the man he loves and his brother are dying and he wouldn't accept that one bit

He sends all the Blades willing to look for any possible Leads and anyone who might know anything about healing magic or alchemy

Keith is the one who comes across one of haggars old druids, one well versed in altean alchemy and one bitter at what had become of the craft

She had understood, to a degree, what Allura had done to Save both men

She had tied their life force to her own to ground them back to this plane of existence and now that she's no longer tied to one universe her connection has faded and so has theirs

"You must tie them to another life to keep them but this practice is taboo. If this next life dies they will with it."

Keith doesn't hesitate for a moment "just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He ends up tying Lances life force to his own, Lance so sickly he didn't get a choice and Keith apologizes the entire way

He combs fingers through lances thinned hair hoping it brought any comfort to the man that had no energy to even stay awake anymore "you can be as angry as you want after this, as long as you survive I don't care anymore..."

Shiros husband does the same for Shiro

They know it's worked when their bodies stop dying and start to finally try to heal.

The damage so extensive they both spend months in newly crafted healing pods that do everything to try to reverse it.

Both come out whole, alive and maybe a little worse for wear than before All this took place.

But no one cares so long as they stay alive.

And, if when Keith tells lance what he'd done to save him, Keith earns a strict slap to the face for his recklessness that's followed by a gentle kiss.

Well, no one says a word.

[widowsofchaos]

Buckynat

𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

—- even the unloveable can be loved.

pairing // bucky barnes x brown!fem!reader x natasha romanoff

warnings // dom/sub smut (Shibari), cheating, mention of pcos, stretch marks, and hyperpigmentation. mention of an unnamed omc.

a/n // read it here on ao3. I hope whoever requested this, sees this. sorry for taking so long. wrote this in a low point in my life. hope you enjoy. <3

It’s methodical.

A routine well practiced, it’s recited in your footsteps. Auto-piloting through the lavish apartment corridors, a secluded area in the compound that always leaves you in a daze, coordinating footfalls that felt as a maze—- with keys digging in your grip.

The rigid craved curves dig into the flesh of your thumb, wedging the copper tip underneath your fingernail, edging on subtle pain.

The path to the secure living spaces of the earth’s mightiest heroes is a familiar one. The billion-dollar compound is secured and shrouded in silence.

The ideal timing, when the majority of the avengers are in their own worlds. Some are on a mission, and some are just —- not here.

The walk of shame isn’t something you want. Despite being a lab technician for Tony, you don’t try to rub elbows. You’re use to being alone, casted in the shadows—- and just because you warm the bed of two avengers doesn’t mean, you yearn to fuck your way to the top.

Another turn in the hallway, and right at the end of the corridor, is that familiar sterling gray door. Just beyond it is your solitude.

Copper ridges twist and unlock, the crisp air conditioning fans your face as the door opens, relaxing your nerves.

Slipping out of your flats, by a whisk of your ankle, the shoes are perched at the door. Smoothly you glide your wedding ring off—- hide it away in your pocket, all its value is nothing more than a stranger now.

Steadied steps inside the spacious apartment. Pristine, with cool tones. Perched on the polished flooring is a rich violet pillow.

Well versed motions, mutely, you remove each article of clothing. From the flaps of your beige blazer, to your white button blouse, each button snapping open with anxious aggression, to your unzipping your black skirt—— the anticipation of the zipper splitting open against the flesh of your thigh.

Folding neatly, fabric on top of another, resting on the pristine couch.

It’s all arousing.

To be owned. To be eaten carnally. To be degraded, reduced to nothing. Some days, the aftercare is merely an afterthought, you think you don’t care for it, because it’s a belief of not deserving of it.

Some days, you depress yourself, thinking that you’re just a sex toy to a bored couple. But, when they touch you, caress you—- your heart settles, and you feel safe.

Grateful to them, for once —- in all the years of your life, you never once accepted your sexuality, nor explored regions of intimacy. Embarrassed of extra flesh you carry, and scars, finally, to have anyone adore these flaws.

To be taken care of is still a foreign concept, a notion that even your boyfriend doesn’t even entertain so often.

A few kisses here, and a stroke against the meat of your thigh there—- no, he doesn’t clean up the rawness, the humanity of facing the aftermath of sex.

Nor does he want to. He doesn’t want to touch the darkness that casts upon your inner thighs.

Rarely any relationship birthed from obligation promises a happily ever after.

Now you sit, kneeling on the lush readied cushion, just for you. Awaiting for the touch, the manhandling. The silence prevails in the apartment space. Enveloping you with bated breath.

The walls have eyes.

They’re watching you. You can feel the forest green and icy blue hues stalking you akin to predators in the wild, awaiting their vulnerable prey.

Goosebumps form on your flesh, palms resting on your knees. Skilled and lethal, years of expertise—- they tread in silence. All the more erotic, to be caught off guard, knowing that you can never win. Never hide from them.

They can sniff your soul a mile away.

They need control. After decades of being subjected forcefully to commit heinous acts —- even still seen as criminals, despite saving the world numerous times.

Used as puppets, with no autonomy. Both learned through each other —- even in the most violent environments —- that safety isn’t impossible, if it's through tender intimacy, or communication.

Mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes.

A moment passes, and you wait, as a loyal dog. It turns them on. To see you obedient, even when you’re trembling in your skin, to be touched.

Staring at the wall ahead, fingers fidget against your bare thigh, your bum seated against the soles of your feet.

You didn’t even hear him.

“Privet, moy pitomets.” Hello, my pet.

The vowels slip from his lips with ease, only a few words have been taught to you routinely, but the language remains foreign.

“Let me see your nails.” It’s not a request. Bucky inspects each nail closely. He sighs disappointedly to see swollen red cuticles.

“You’ve been biting.”

“More like ripping.”

Bucky gently smacks your fingers, with his right hand. “What did I tell you?” He chastises, his breath warm and wispy against the shell of your ear.

“Not to do that.”

Your head bows submissively, a twinge of genuine shame birthes itself, all your thoughts consume your mind, yes, yes, punish me, I deserve it.

“And yet, you deliberately disobey us.” A silky, Russian accent that edges on a moan with every vowel. Not daring to turn your face, gracious legs step into your eyesight.

Mindless picking relieves your mind from the small stresses. You don’t tell them the personal issues, just enough to indicate that there is a broken marriage, that was already fractured before the consummation.

“I want the pain.”

You are nothing, you are void of all that is pure. You deserve it—- “Pain, moya lyubov'?” My love. Natasha asks, kneeling to your eye level, but your eyes are downcasted.

Her index finger glides under your throat up the slope to your chin, sending a shiver down the terrain of your spine. Her finger curves, lifting your gaze to hers.

“Is that all you want?” Natasha speaks with silk on her tongue. Smooth metal fingers tread and engulf your throat, a caressing fist.

Bucky’s soft pink lips shower your check in tantalizing kisses—- feathery. Leaving you wanting more, his flesh hand weaves in your hair, stroking your scalp.

Pulling you to him, controlling you, handling you his way. Natasha hums, with that smug smirk she always dons.

“No.” You wheeze a whine, eyes dazed.

“Bucky hasn’t even touched you yet,” Natasha teases, her eyes catch your hip lifting just a bit, craving to be touched, “—- and already you’re cock drunk.”

You whine a whimper.

-

Swinging mid-air, bondaged with a blindfold shielding your eyes.

Washed in cold water, and oiled. Soft and flexible—- intricately hemp tied around the ceiling’s hook, and clings to your anchoring body.

Mischievously, you’re tied in a position that splits your legs apart, arms bent back as a bird’s wing, and digging into your torso in pretzel knots. Heavy breasts hang freely as the hemp is tied akin to a bralet, roving between the hills of each tit.

It’s been hours. Three to be exact. A few breaks in-between.

A gust of breath escapes you, panting as your body settles from another orgasm. Vibrating from your skin, if you could, you would melt within these knots.

Bucky’s thumbs caressing and digging into your hips assuring you.

But, some moments, you cringe at the sensation of his fingers stroking your spilt thighs. Fleshy, and darkened—- you swallow that tightness in your throat with soft moans.

Eye-lids wrinkling behind the shrouded fabric, but you swallow the brewing prickles in your throat. Masking the cringe deep inside.

Natasha is completely naked, unbuckling the leather strap from her hips; smugly staring as Bucky has been ravishing your soppy cunt. Your skin is coated in a dew of sweat, as faint purplish handprints bloom on the swell of your hips.

Both of them have been taking turns on you. Natasha fucking you deep with her strap, and Bucky with his cock. Having you eat Natasha out, her finger gripping your hair as Bucky savored you, thighs split. Just a moment ago, Bucky stuffed your mouth full as Nat’s long smooth pink dildo had you crying with pleasure.

“Hmm,” Nat hums to herself teasingly. Her slender ivory fingers caress your chin, lifting your head. She can see your chest heaving, you’ve been wrung loose. “Maybe we should stop.”

Bucky’s teeth nip at the rope, his lips gliding against your shoulder blade. “Maybe.” He taunts. “You probably had enough.” He whispers in the shell of your ear.

You mumble, but the words just can’t fall out.

“What was that?” Natasha’s brows lift, “We couldn’t hear you.” Her fingertips tapping the underside of your chin.

“Please fuck me.” Wringing your hands against the tight rope, a low whine stretches. Bucky tsks. “Please.”

Both chuckle. Insatiable, Nat mumbles with a lazy grin.

Bucky’s fingers glide against your split mound, fondling the empty connection between you both. With gentle ease, he readies himself inside you, following with a smooth thrust.

Bucky pauses for a second, and sighs. He looks down at his cock with realization, a lazy smirk. You turn your head over the slope of your shoulder, despite being blinded, “What’s wrong?” you pant.

“I guess we forgot a rubber.” Bucky laughs. Natasha breathes a chuckle, murmuring that she’ll get another one real quick.

Adrenaline rushing to your ears. You utter a small no, their smiles fade a little, but you don’t see it. Your skin feels the shift in the air, the quick silence.

Like vomit, your words spew.

“I can’t have children…. it’s okay.” You gesture over your shoulder, tugging on the knots. Not enjoying the silence, you swallow.

“Cum in me, please!” You wail, brows pinching. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Curls stuck to your face by the sheen of your sweat, nearly tangled, and tears kissing your lashes. “You don’t have to be so cautious.” You laugh through a squint, blur of gray cotton. Laughing to guise the bitter twinge, making your words softer.

An odd glimmer passes through Natasha’s face. But it’s gone as fast as it came. Soothingly caressing your cheek, a flutter of her gaze catches Bucky, who nods so tenderly. Speaking through the silence, the need for the rush now dissipates to a kinder pace.

Natasha retrieves another condom, as Bucky’s thumbs caress you in circular motions. One part of your mind enjoys it and the other is sinking into itself, reminding you that he is touching your fat.

Bucky leans down, kissing the arch of your spine, “Remember your safe word—-” another kiss, “we’ll stop if we have to.” Two more kisses, and he gently adjusts by your waist, so his tip is just at your entrance. Curved and hung, stroking through your lips.

Natasha’s hands cup your cheeks, “Remember to breathe.” Your skin yearning with lust, and desperation. Just as your lungs expand, Bucky slowly sheethes himself inside you, earning a breathy sigh from both of you, his eyes fluttering.

Moaning low, as an odd sense of comfort. That he is meant to be here, inside you. A reminder that you are wanted. The taste of Nat lingers on your tongue, and it feels like home.

Starving for that high, reaching for it one more time. Your body can feel every thrust, but your mind is drifting. Stifling the thoughts, you try to focus on the pleasure.

Your body is a spongy blob, in need to be used. You are nothing, and the void must be filled. With a cock, or a strap. Replace the sorrow with the crack of a belt, or a striking hand.

Bucky fucks deep inside you, your breathing becoming heavy. Nat holds your cheeks, kissing you, swallowing your sounds. Her warm tongue slipped inside, dancing against yours.

It’s all so suffocating. To be between their presence. Bucky hit a curved angle, making you cry out.

Yes—- the familiar knot is tightening. The curve of Bucky’s cock stroking and punching that spot, that delicious spot—- his balls slapping your swollen clit.

Soft moans and guttural grunts dance together in the air. Natasha’s slender fingers gripping your throat, no doubt, she’s touching herself. To see her husband fuck animalisticly their third.

String of slick connects between Bucky’s sac and your swollen clit, spilt and weeping on his cock.

The pit in your belly is tightening, so close. Swirling thoughts plague your mind, distracting you from your approaching high. Trying to pay attention to Bucky’s grunts, and gripping hands, but the thoughts of ugliness and shame rip at your skin.

Closer… closer … closer…

A gasp and …. nothing.

“I didn’t … cum.” You spoke in a hush. Eyes moon-wide, lashes blink against the cotton, disbelief eroding within your veins. Staring through the barely mesh blind-fold. Your breathing becomes short.

“That’s okay.” Nat says, caressing your scalp. She’s a slight blur in your hazy vision, coming forth to you with gentle ease.

But all you feel is the rush of blood flooding your ears.

“I — didn’t cum.” You repeat, breasts heaving, the cage of your ribs erratic with breath.

“And that's—- okay.” Bucky repeats. His lips kisses your cheek, caressing the skin with his thumb. Bucky moves around you, being careful with your body. Blood rushes to your ears, dissociating into the void, as their footsteps fade from your mind.

Your head hangs low, eyes watery, and humiliated. Expecting at any second for them to cut you down, and make your grand escape. Ensure that you must resign, never show your face again, pretend you never existed—-

Soft hands gently start cutting at the rope, as another pair grabs at your body, making sure you don’t fall. With kind precision, Bucky pulls you to his warm body. Natasha flicks at the rope, splintering fibers into split ends. A white towel wrapped around his torso.

He caresses your body into a hug, and you’re speechless. Nearly sinking into your skin, like being swallowed by a black hole. Cringing at the realization of being naked. Trying to muster the words, to tell them that you don’t need help, and you’ll be leaving, but Bucky just carries you as a feather.

“Where—-” your words die in a groggy grunt, “—- where are you taking me?” Your eyes are bleary, brows knitting in frustration. Bucky chuckles, “You need a bath.” His lips curl into a smile.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to—” your words are snuffed by a shush, Natasha’s fingers stroke the hairs clinging to the sweat of your brow.

“We’re going to take care of you.” Spoken with such firmness, as if saying you’re not winning this. With such declarations in their tones, it’s enough to shut you up.

And they did. They took such care of you.

Bathing you with gentle hands. You can feel they were deep in thought, a shift now in the air. Silently cursing at yourself for being so compulsive with your words, sitting in the bath with empty eyes.

Pampered you with a soapy scrub, and comforting silence. Naked among each other, but not sexual. Bathing one another, as you slip inside the bubbles. The water is warm, and it nearly lulls you to sleep.

All you can feel is hands holding you gently, and the blur of the dim bathroom lights.

-

The phone is stuck in the grip of your palm, blankly staring at the screen. Desperately your thumb hovers over the keyboard, itching to just rip the band aid off.

You peek over the hill of your shoulder, making sure Nat and Bucky are sleeping. Fiddling with the hem of Bucky’s shirt, you always loved wearing his clothes— spacious and big to conceal your fluffy body; plus, it smells like him.

You couldn’t sleep. Restlessly your mind raced. The pit of your belly pinches, as you set your eyes back on the screen.

His contact picture mocking you.

Let him know. It’s over. No more enduring the humiliation of being nippicked, for what you can’t control. Why continue being with someone who doesn’t love you for yourself? Who always makes you feel less than dog shit?

A soft hand glides up from your shoulder blade to the cusp of your neck, earning a gasp from you.

Your eyes flit to your side, to see Natasha’s sharp eyes staring into your screen. It’s hard to read her face, it’s … void.

“I can’t have children either.” Nat whispers. Her eyes shift to you, a small smile lifts. “Doesn’t make us any less of a woman.” Her eyes blink with sympathy, unflinching.

No quivering in the truth. That’s one of the best aspects of Bucky and Natasha. Neither one lies. It’s always been pure honesty, never looking away from shame.

You wish to master that. To not let shame eat at your core, till it’s festering. To the point of crippling anxiety, falling apart at the idea of being perceived.

And yet, these two, have cracked you open, physically and emotionally—- has seen every bit of you with no judgment clouding their eyes. Found beauty and value within you—- but is it love? What if they found another?

You wouldn’t find this connection again—- “Don’t get lost on me.” Nat’s voice pulls you back, her knuckles grazing against your forearm.

“We can help you pack your things.”

Your brows pinch with confusion. Nat breathes a laugh. “While he’s gone, we can help you move in.” The light of the phone dimmed, but Natasha can still see through you. Her observant eyes unblinking.

“You want me… to move in?” Your voice floats on a whisper, feeling that anxious drop in your belly.

“We’ve been wanting that for so long.” Natasha says. Her eyes flew over to Bucky’s sleeping body, “I had to stop him from just taking you.” She smiles, laughing a bit.

“He was ready to tear the door down.” The image of Bucky barging in your home, and just taking you sent a jolt to your core—- so rugged. Natasha’s eyes gaze back to you. Her shiny nails softly graze your forearm.

“We love you.”

Those three words nearly make you cry. Yet, you have no love for yourself. It felt compulsive to ask—- “Why?” the question just spews. Natasha’s brows pinch.

“How can we not?” She asks, as if it’s the most ludicrous question. Your eyes filter away, staring down in shame. The light of the phone screen goes out, the darkness becomes your veil.

“Because my body is ruined.”

Natasha remains silent, you can only see a glimmer of her through the dark, not even the night slipping through the blackout drapes.

Soft fingertips graze the outline of your shoulder, it was the warm flesh fingers you are so familiar with.

“You’re not ruined.” A soft husk whispers behind you. With how he moves in silence, it should have startled you, but it didn’t. You felt Bucky’s breath fan the skin of your shoulder, caressing you with a shiver in its wake.

You have no doubt he was listening to the entire conversation— nothing could ever be hidden from either. You shake your head, your lips caving into your mouth into a tight lip.

“A lot of people would disagree with you.” You say, it’s second nature to speak with such defeatism, to never accept a compliment. It was always a rare occasion to be told that you were beautiful.

“Many people can fuck off.” Natasha snips. Her finger curls under your chin, making you look at her. A swirl of frustration and sympathy tastes her ivory-skinned features, illuminated by the dim darkness.

“I wish it was that easy.”

“It is.” Bucky hisses low, “You’re making it difficult for yourself.” His words sting, but the truth is all too bare.

He exhales a sigh, so soft you barely hear it. Your eyes staring into the void, straining to see your lap before you.

By now, the light of your cellphone is gone.

Bucky’s flesh knuckles stroke your shoulder blade, you can feel he wants to speak more; but he graces you with the chance to swallow his words.

“What would the team say?” Unshed tears sting your oculus, filtering from your left to right. Your head shakes in disbelief, trying to find words; but the vowels seem to limp from your tongue.

“What— wh…” you stammer, nose flaring to keep the tears at bay. “The three of us…” your lips wrinkle, “I don’t fit…”. Your entire face prunes in despair now.

“How would that look?” You speak hastily and anxiously, your throat feels raw, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel their eyes piercing through your entire body, the rush of blood and heat captures your ears.

“It doesn’t matter what people think.” Natasha says, her tone is edged. Her face leans in closer, her breath fanning your face.

“It matters to me.” You sniffle, your fingertips pointedly hitting against your chest. “I have lived my life by everybody’s opinions…their taunts… I… I don’t know how I…” you begin to fumble over your words again.

“None of them would be against us.” Bucky says softly. “Or mock us.” He takes your fingers into his, interlocking. You can feel his warmth encasing you, from his thumb stroking your knuckles.

“We wouldn’t let them get the chance.” Bucky’s voice is low, an edged husk.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.” You spoke in a whisper, grinding your teeth, restraining the itching in your throat. Droplets of tears rain down your cheeks, soaking the jut of your chin, down underneath your neck.

“We’re not embarrassed.” Natasha’s fingers guide your chin. “Far from it.” She kisses your scalp, earning just the softest hint of a smile.

A pregnant pause.

“I would love to live with you…” you speak as soft as a baby’s breath, “to feel loved for once…”. A resignation rests on you, weighing heavier and heavier. A battle of resistance, to grasp violently onto the sadness, and on the other side, is acceptance.

Just give in. Don’t you want love?

It’s not important what I want.

It’s all here… in the form of two souls… doesn’t it feel nice?

It does feel nice.

“What do I say… to him?” The mention of your boyfriend back home stirs an odd tug in your belly. “How do I tell him? A fight can break out—”

“How about you sleep on it.” Bucky interjects, as Natasha’s open fingers stroke your spine. You nod, trying to swallow the harshness in your throat, muttering an okay under your breath.

A fight won’t happen, Bucky thinks, he won’t let it happen. He can sense Natasha feeling the same. A silent agreement that if anyone tries to hurt you —- it would end quickly and six feet deep in dirt. But, your anxiety vibrates too loud at the moment, it’s best to just rest now.

Laying down between them, sinking into the sheets. Natasha and Bucky encase you, as Bucky puts your phone on the nightstand. Out of sight, out of mind.

You let your last message to your now ex-boyfriend be your white lie of sleeping over at your mother’s. Now, your bones melt into the mattress, tucked between two bodies—- you can start anew in the morning, till then, you just want to rest with the two people who make you feel safe.

[evolutionsvoid]

Though wormfolk like to keep things simple, it does not mean their culture is lacking. Their lives can contain more than just bathing in waste pools, as they too take part in customs, rituals and beliefs. There are different roles within their villages, and even wormfolk who leave their homes to find new paths for them to slither. There is richness to their lives, though it may pale in comparison to what man does. If one is truly interested in learning the extra layers of wormfolk culture, they simply need to seek out an Intestinal Sage.

The Intestinal Sages are a vital part of any wormfolk community. Their title may suggest they are simple dispensers of wisdom, yet their role is a bit more varied. They are a fusion of elder leader, storyteller, sage and wizard, taking bits and pieces from each. Intestinal Sages are not the undisputed leaders of a village, but their words certainly carry hefty authority. They speak of wisdom, prophecy and legends, dispensing whichever is needed at the time. They carry within them the myths of their kind, going back to when they lived within the Hostia Prima. They will speak of how wormkind was born within the Intestinal Cradle, and how they lived carefree in an internal paradise. But greed and gluttony took its toll, and the wormfolk were faced with a dead host. From here, their first civilization fell to ruin, but thankfully they were able to survive. Though much of their ancient knowledge and ways were lost, the Intestinal Sages retain what fragments remain and weave new tales to fill gaps and teach lessons. Wormfolk lost one home already, there is no excuse to make the same mistake again.

Intestinal Sages are also turned to when it comes to fortune telling and magic. They are well versed in the art of haruspicy, in which the future is gleaned from the entrails of sacrificed beasts. When hunters for the village bring forth a great prize, the Intestinal Sage is called forth to cut it open and read its insides so that all may be gifted with wisdom. Scatomancy may also be used at times to divine information on one's life and health. Another way for them to gain visions, or to impart them to others, is through the creation of the hallucinogenic "Reek." Reek is made from fermented waste, often sealed within pots for weeks, then uncovered so that the potent vapors can be inhaled. Such a drug is used to glimpse prophecies or knowledge from beyond, though many humans who imbibe nowadays do it purely for the high. Though it has become profitable for wormfolk to sell these noxious jars to desperate folk seeking escapism, Intestinal Sages certainly grumble to themselves on how their art has become a toy of debauchery.

In times of conflict, Intestinal Sages are able to wield magic, calling upon the fluids of Rot (also called Effluvium). Such spells are foul and fetid things, wielding noxious gases and foul globs of waste and decay. Though few outside of wormkind would stoop to such disgusting arts (as the odor takes days to fade), there is no denying their effectiveness. Their waves and sprays of Effluvium can eat through armor and corrode weapons, while fighters struggle to attack when vomiting from vile gases. If it is possible, Intestinal Sages prefer to avoid violence, and instead aim to disarm and debilitate foes. Stripping them of their tools of war and leaving them gagging is often enough to end a battle. But if their enemies refuse to back off, even when robbed of weapons and senses, then they will sadly accept the need to kill. For outsiders, they find this pacifism odd, especially when gazing upon one cloaked in intestines and membranes. But is this hesitancy truly so bizarre? Isn't it the parasite who knows what is lost in death of another?

To the wormfolk, the intestines are the organa they associate most with. Though it is not officially recognized by the Church as one, it does not matter to them. There is no denying its purpose within the body, the crucial role it plays for god and man. Even humans see the ties between the wormfolk and this ignored organa. One need only look upon these faithful worms to see the comparison. It is said that a wormfolk coiled around one of their egg sacs serves as a perfect symbol for this organa. To show that even the lowly and foul are a part of something greater. Their image serves as a reminder that even parasites belong to this world, as we are all born from the ancient carcasses that came before us.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

We have a full hcs about a smoll MC, now how about a full hcs about a toll MC who's even more toller than Muriel? :0

The Arcana HCs: When MC is taller than Muriel

~ @zedibleandedible how do you always come up with the cutest ideas??? thank you for sending this in, friend! - brainrot ~

Julian

Very, very attracted to this and doing his best to hide it (he's failing)

So used to being one of the tallest people around that most of his flirtatious moves depend on the focus of his attraction being shorter than he is

Which means he's completely lost on how to approach you

He can't make a path for you through the crowd, he can't hide you behind him, he can't catch you against his chest - hang on a sec

This can go both ways

Now he's employing the reverse of all his tactics

Holding onto your elbow while you make your way through the crowd, tripping and falling constantly so you can catch him against your chest, asking you to grab something or spot someone for him

He could get used to this

He has a whole new perspective shift when your relationship progresses to things like cuddling and kissing, because he has to rethink all the mechanics of it (he's used to bending down for a kiss, not standing on his tiptoes) but he finds he quite likes it

Asra

Has loved you for years and is well-versed in interacting with someone your height (they knew Muriel long before they knew you, and they've known you for nine years now)

Though your height proved to be a challenge when he needed to teach you how to be human again

You had to lean on their shoulders, instead of their elbow, and they accidentally led you into so many door frames, signposts, and shop front awnings

There were also issues inside the shop. As it had been yours for quite some time, you had stored quite a few things on some very tall shelves that Asra couldn't reach without magic. (Or a ladder)

And magic lessons could quickly get out of hand when whatever you were doing ended up out of his reach

"Master, I can't control the fire spell!"

"Bring it down towards me! - wait, not near that shelf! Faust is sleeping in those papers!"

Faust doesn't mind your height at all. She loves hitching joyrides on your shoulders and looking down at all the teeny tiny humans below her

Nadia

When she first visited your shop, and mentioned that you were not the same as you were in her dream, this is what she meant

The truth is that you did appear at your regular height in her dream, but at that point everything seemed so out of wack for her that she assumed you just appeared larger than life

But here you are in real life, and you are in fact very large

Finds your frame impressive and, depending on your preferred aesthetic, is determined to find all the best ways to dress it (you have great potential in capes)

Secretly not that fond of having to look up to talk to you. She's used to being the tall one, or at least the same height

Starts wearing heels

Knows the whole time that it won't make a huge difference, but loves the shift in perspective

Never accepts your offers to grab something she can't reach, but she will ask you to spot someone in a crowd for her. Sometimes. Maybe

You are Chandra's new favorite perch

Muriel

A little surprised when he first met you

Hates to admit it, but he's rarely had to look up to talk to someone and he generally keeps his head down anyways. His neck was so sore the first few weeks he spent interacting with you

Genuinely delighted that he doesn't have to be the tallest person in the room anymore

Somebody needs something they can't reach? They go to you instead. Need to spot someone in a crowd? They ask you instead. People want to stare at somebody tall? They look at you instead

You love being in Muriel's hut as well, because it's one of the few buildings in Vesuvia besides the Palace and your shop that have door frames and ceilings that you don't have to stoop under

Once, Muriel had to ask you to put a baby bird back in its nest (the branch was just out of reach for him) and he nearly died on the spot from how surreal and attractive the whole thing was

Learns to like leaning his head on your shoulder when you sit side by side

Inanna has few thoughts about it. Unless you can teach Muriel to stop slouching

Portia

WOAH

She has so many uses for you, you are now required to follow her everywhere she goes (she's only half-joking)

Loves to rub it in her brother's face that she's with someone taller than he is. Not because Julian is insecure about his height, just because it's funny to watch him have to look up for once

Regularly requests to sit on your shoulders while you walk around. If you indulge her, she will only ask more often

Had to make a lot of adjustments to her cottage. Everything from the pots and pans hanging precariously close to your shoulders, to the mirrors hung at your chest height - the whole thing was a maze

She does have a personal goal to pick you up as effortlessly as possible. And, if you allow it, to demonstrate that skill at every party she attends with you

Regularly has you pay "tall tax" by grabbing things she can't reach, but really it's an excuse to grab your arm when you hand it to her and haul you down for a kiss

Pepi tries every day to climb your clothing like it's a cat tree

Lucio

He became so generally disoriented while he was a ghost and then while you were in the realms that he didn't realize how tall you truly were until he got his body back

There was a flash of insecurity there, he's not going to lie

However, he quickly realizes that having you as his lover and best friend means that he gets to brag about you instead of comparing himself to you

And brag he does. Constantly

(If he upped the height of his own heeled boots, no he didn't)

Secretly loves to watch people go slack-jawed when they meet you and they have to get used to looking up that much to make eye contact with you. Yeah, that's his beloved they're looking at

Shamelessly asks you to do height-related favors for him, even when it actually is in his reach or he can see perfectly fine himself

Regularly gets you involved in teasing playing with Mercedes and Melchior

Because you can hold the treats up so high! And they look so funny when they have to jump!