#(THIS WAS VERY FUN FOR ME TO WRITE AND EVALUATE....)

[unionizedwizard]

backing up my files & just stumbled upon a very old journal entry (september 4th 2015) that is literally the biggest egg-in-denial copium ive ever seen. godbless

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I have been trying for days to find a topic for the "paper" I need to turn in for this Philosophy of History course on Friday, and I got nothing.

I so intensely dislike this subject you cannot imagine.

[shortfeather]

still can't write bc wrists still hurt but what i CAN do is daydream an entire star system's relationship to ritual combat and fighting prowess that will be relevant to only two people in hermnautica

[crownshattered]

@diverse-hearts inquired: "Have you ever known anyone that didn't hurt you?" - Kovit / Monica

⁕| Stuff From The Old Blog |⁕

The woman's words caused him to pause. Normally, he wouldn't even bat an eye at the comments of a stranger, but some reason...this stuck with him. He actually considered her question, and once he did, he didn't like the result. He couldn't find a single person in his memory who hasn't hurt him before.

Henry was obvious, he used him for years and didn't actually care for him at all. Gold had been a pain in his ass for a long time before he realized she was May, and that realization struck him to his core. All his online friends kicked him out once they learned the truth about him, and honestly, he couldn't blame them. His mother harmed his friends. Reyes treated him like a dog. Even Matt, who didn't explicitly do anything to harm Kovit directly, was always dragging the zannie into his shit and putting him in danger with the Family.

And then, there was Nita... Kovit followed her willingly and was happy to do whatever she asked--as long as it was in the confines of his rules--but he would be lying if he said she never hurt him. He knew she was afraid of him at times, and that hurt him. The only times she wasn't disgusted by him was when he tortured whoever she wanted him to... So in the end, the only person in his life who never hurt him was Patchaya, but Kovit was afraid of hurting her. But he guessed being hurt by so many people was what it means to be a zannie. He hurt people, so people hurt him.

"Why?" he questioned, his brows furrowing as he stared at the woman before him. Something about her put him on edge... It wasn't like him to feel like the prey for once. "What does that have to do with you?"

[rainrot4me]

First the compliment: your writing is much better than mine when i was at your age, props for writing creepypasta hcs like YOU imagine them while still making it feel like it could absolutely pass off as canon/in character. Thats some talent right there.

Can i request the creeps with a reader that tends to escapism/ suffers from maladaptive daydreaming? Thanks in advance!

Thank you so much!!! As someone who uses daydreaming to get away from the hectic cycle of life, this was very fun to do :)

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

At first? Jeff’s annoyed.

“Earth to space cadet,” he snaps after the third time you don’t respond when he calls your name. Jeff has always been a face-value guy, so it’s hard to understand why someone he wants to talk to doesn’t always want to talk to him. But eventually, he realizes it’s not disrespect, it’s protection.

And after a while, he starts watching you during those dissociative moments, leaning in close, not to scold, but to anchor you. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice unusually soft. “Where’d you go just now?” He wants to know where and what it is that takes you away, what makes that other place so much better than where he is?

Sometimes he’ll jokingly insert himself into your fantasy, “If you’re gonna vanish, at least imagine me shirtless and feeding you grapes or something.”

But other times, when he sees how hard you’re clinging to your daydreams, his voice gets quieter. “You don’t have to run up there anymore,” he says, brushing your hair back. “You got me now. Let me be your somewhere else.”

✦ . ticci toby

Toby understands.

God, does he understand. Dissociation, checking out, needing the dream version of life just to make it through the real one? That’s been his whole survival method. He doesn’t interrupt your spells, he just sits with you, quietly. Maybe fidgets with your hands or hums under his breath so you know he’s still here.

When you come back around, he doesn’t push. Just gently says, “You drifted again… You okay?”

If you let him, he’ll join you in your mental escape. “What’s it like in your head? Ca-Can I come too?” He wants to build you a safe world outside your mind, even if it’s messy and full of shadows, he just wants you to feel safe inside and outside of your head.

“I’ll be your anchor, if you want,” he says once. “Just tug on me when you need to come back.”

✦ . eyeless jack

Jack takes a clinical interest at first, but it turns personal fast.

He notices the signs—the unfocused stare, the half-listening answers when he asks you questions, the barely-there smile like you’re living in a different timeline. “You’re retreating,” he says one evening, gently. “It’s a protective response.” It’s more like he’s evaluating exactly why more than letting you know.

But instead of shaming you, he asks questions. “What does it look like, in there? Are you safer there? Happier?” He’s not offended, but he does want to know why your mind works the way it does without feeling like it’s an interrogation. He’s happy when you let him into your personal space.

Over time, he starts helping you ground—hand on your thigh, blanket over your shoulders, little sensory tethers that ease you back to him without abruptly dragging you from your headspace.

“You don’t have to leave to feel okay,” he tells you. “Let’s make the real world something worth staying in.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim has no patience for it at first.

He’s from a world where zoning out gets you killed. “Stop checking out,” he growls during a heated moment. “You can’t afford to float off.” But then he sees the aftermath, the guilt in your eyes, the way you cling to your sleeves like they can shield you.

And suddenly, he sees himself in you. He sees that scared man who was being ripped apart at the edges by some horrifying force out to get him. It hits him like a guilt-filled truck.

Next time, when you space out, he doesn’t snap. He sits next to you in silence, lights a cigarette, and murmurs, “It’s not real, whatever’s happening in there… but I get it. Sometimes you just need out.”

He’ll stay for as long as you’re gone, making sure that nothing and nobody bothers you. He’s protective, so when someone he cares about is vulnerable, he’s sure to have their back. Eventually, he’ll nudge you gently. “Come back. I miss you when you go.”

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

Brian recognizes the signs immediately.

He’s been there—lost in thought, lost in nightmares, lost in anywhere-but-here. He never interrupts harshly. Instead, he waits for you to return, then meets your eyes behind his mask. “You were somewhere else again,” he’ll say calmly. “Did it help?”

Sometimes, he sits beside you and just says nothing, letting you wander mentally while he holds your hand. He’ll build rituals to ground you—soft touches, steady sounds, warmth.

He doesn’t force you to stop escaping, but he does give you something to escape to instead of from. If it’s silence you want, he’ll offer that, but if it’s noise and activity, he’ll offer that too.

“When you need to drift,” he says, “make me part of the dream. I’ll keep you safe in there.”

✦ . kate the chaser

Kate’s response is quiet at first.

She sees you drifting off and doesn’t call attention to it, just places a hand on your arm and keeps it there until your eyes clear. There’s no need to rush anything, she’ll take all the time she needs to bring you back. She feels honored that you feel comfortable enough around her to zone off.

But one day, after a long silence, she speaks, “I used to do that too. Escape—into stories, into people, into a version of me who didn’t have to fight so hard.”

She doesn’t try to fix you. But she will make sure you’re okay. “You don’t have to explain where you went. Just… come back when you’re ready. I’ll still be here.”

Eventually, she starts narrating things to help keep you present. She knows it’s easy for you to slip away, so she wants to make sure you’re always being attended to. “We’re in the woods. It’s dusk. You’re holding my hand. We’re walking back to the mansion.” Because with Kate, she makes sure you are never forgotten.

✦ . ben drowned

Ben lives in fantasy.

He’s half code, half memory, always just slightly unreal. So when he finds out you’re a dreamer too? He lights up. “Finally,” he says, half-grinning. “Someone who gets it.”

He’ll ask you about your worlds, your characters, your imagined futures. He wants to play there with you—build kingdoms, bend the rules, dream impossible dreams.

But when it becomes too much, when you start forgetting to eat or sleep, he gently reins you in. “I know it’s beautiful in your head,” he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek. “But you’re beautiful out here, too. I need you with me.”

He enjoys spending time with you, inside your head or out, but there’s no way he’s going to let you ruin yourself. “…Besides, you’re way cuter in person.”

✦ . clockwork

Natalie notices the disconnect, but she doesn’t get angry.

Instead, she plants her palm against your chest and says, “Hey. You still in there?” If you don’t respond, she waits. And when you do, she doesn’t make you explain yourself. She’s patient. Fierce, but patient.

“You’re not weak,” she says. “You’re surviving however you can. I respect that.” She becomes oddly motivating and supportive.

But she’ll challenge you when the daydreams start taking over your real life. “Tell me what your dream self has that you don’t. Go on. I’ll wait.” Because she wants to help you become that person—here. Now. With her.

“I’ll fight the world for you,” she says, gripping your hand. “But you gotta stay present enough to fight it too.”

✦ . laughing jack

Jack is fascinated.

“You escape into fantasy?” he says, tilting his head like a raven. “What’s so wrong with this twisted little circus we call life?” Jack is a being of the dreamworld himself, but that’s a control tactic, something he uses to lure victims and churn feelings, not an escape.

But then he sees how much pain you’re hiding, how deeply you need the dream world. And strangely, something shifts in him. “Fine,” he says. “Then I’ll make the real world just as colorful. Let’s paint the walls with glitter and scream at the moon. Let’s make this place worth living in.”

He pulls you out of your fugue states with humor, with chaos, with surprise. But always with a touch of care. Whenever you slip, he’ll make sure to lure you back with the sweet smell of baked goods or the wonderful sensation of a dryer-warmed blanket, anything to bring you back to him.

“You don’t have to go to Wonderland, darling. I’ll bring Wonderland to you.”

✦ . slenderman

Slender is eerily in tune with your disassociation.

He can feel when your presence flickers. He doesn’t speak, but his tendrils will coil protectively around you. He grounds you with texture, sensation, pressure, drawing you back into your body.

When you return, he gently cups your face in his clawed hands. “Your mind is a vast, haunted forest,” his voice echoes. “But even the wildest forests need a path home.”

He never demands you stop dreaming. But he offers reality as something beautiful, terrifying, and shared. He understands slipping away for a while, but he’ll always make sure to stick close to keep a watchful eye over you. Nobody is allowed near, at least not until you’re back again.

“If you must wander,” he says, “let me walk with you.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[scififettuccine]

Homelander x SupeTeen!Reader

Idk ya'll Homie has really been getting on my nerves recently. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this one at first, but I LOVE the way it turned out. It was a doozy but it was SO FUN to write! This isn’t proof read just yet so please don’t yell at me💀

Summary: You meet your biological father for the first time at Vought Tower after your adoptive mother's unexpected passing...he's not exactly what you expected.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Homelander (Obviously), death of a parental figure, mentions of death, manipulation tactics, awkward parental conversations???

Being a Supe had never been easy for you, though, luckily you had never been forced to live in a lab. Soon after you were born, one of the Vought scientists had taken you in as her own, -due to the fact that your biological mother had died during childbirth- directly going against Vought's policies. She was found out eventually, to no one's surprise...but this breach in policy gave headway to a new experiment. So, she was allowed to keep you and raise you as her own. You were raised as any other child would be, but you were treated with extra caution...and being the only Supe in school wasn't exactly a cake walk. But the worst thing you had experienced was a little bullying, but your doting, caring, adoptive mother put an end to that rather quickly by talking with the school board. The first 15 years of your life were...tolerable, if not ideal. It was supposed to stay that way...until your mother was found dead at her place of work.

It had only been two weeks since your mother died. In those two weeks, you had been relocated and told, verbatim, that your father was one of the most iconic Supes in the world...Homelander. Now? You were sitting in The Seven's meeting room at Vought Tower, anxiously toying with the handle of the swivel chair you were sitting in. Part of you was still just...numb. Everything you had ever known had been ripped away from you seemingly overnight. Any other child would be over the moon...but you? You were just...detached. You were pulled out of the endless depths of your own thoughts when a voice echoed off the walls of the room.

"Hey there, kiddo!"

You looked up from your anxious fiddling, and were met with the blindingly white smile of your biological father. You did your best to give a convincing smile back, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. His presence wasn't exactly the most comforting. He tilted his head to the side a bit when you didn't respond.

"You're Y/N...Right? Hopefully we didn't get the wrong kid...that would be awkward, wouldn't it?" Homelander asked with a laugh. He sort of stopped in the center of the room, looking you up and down, like he was trying to evaluate you...to decide your worth. You nod sheepishly.

"Yeah...yeah. That's me." It honestly didn't help that you were the age that you were...it made it more awkward somehow. Homelander didn't say anything for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to say something else. When you didn't, he sort of chuckled.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" He asked. You had opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "I guess that's understandable. Meeting your old man for the first time is no small feat..." He paused for a moment as he evaluated your expression. "I'm sorry to hear about your mom...tough stuff there, kiddo." You took a breath when he mentioned your mother. It was all so fresh...and there were so many things you had recently learned that she had never told you. You didn't even know she wasn't your biological mother until after she died.

"Mmm...Don't be sorry...not your fault."

Oh, the unknown irony of that statement.

Homelander let out a small scoff and frowned. Admittedly, the frown looked incredibly fake...almost like he was mocking you.

"Still...I can't imagine what you must be feeling. I mean, to find out that she was keeping so much from you...after she died...? That must pack an even worse punch." You sort of stiffened in your seat. You weren't exactly stupid...you could read his tone. He was hiding his insults towards your mother with a cruel, mock sympathy.

"She only did it to protect me...I know she did. She wasn't a bad mom, she was amazing, actually." You respond, almost matter-of-factly, your eyes glowing red ever so slightly. "I know raising a Supe couldn't have been easy for her...she had her reasons." It was incredibly hard to talk about your mother in any way, considering she had only died two weeks ago. Homelander sensed your tone, and put his hands up as he noticed the flicker of light in your eyes. It suddenly became clear to him that you couldn't control your powers, which almost made him smirk.

"Hey now, of course she was...Absolutely no hard feelings towards your mom...But I know I would have never kept things from you like that. And registering you at a public school, knowing you're a Supe? That's just...cruel." You were going to continue defending your mother...until he mentioned school. That was something you couldn't exactly convince yourself was a great move on your mom's part.

"School was...a different story. It was rough." You said, pulling your legs up onto the swivel chair so you could hold your knees to your chest. Homelander nodded as he took a few steps closer to you, his hands now at rest behind his back.

"So I've heard...I spoke to your therapist." That comment turned your stomach a bit. Wasn't everything you spoke about with your therapist supposed to be confidential? Homelander noticed the slight change in your expression. "Don't worry, Y/N...I didn't dig into any of the gritty teenager things..." He chuckled, "I was just curious to learn about your school situation. You're a sophomore now, right?"

"Yeah...I will be. In the fall." You said quietly. Homelander smiled, where he now stood beside your chair at the point of the uniquely shaped table.

"Well that's fun, isn't it?" He asked as he pulled out one of the other swivel chairs and pulled it towards him. "One more year and then you're one of the big dogs." You nodded, watching his movements as he sat down, facing you. Everything about him just seemed so...strange. Even the way he moved. It looked almost calculated...and was mildly unsettling.

"I guess..." You said quietly. You sighed as you rested your chin on your knees, grabbing onto the table to reluctantly turn your chair to face his...it was only polite.

"You don't seem too thrilled..." He started, his blue eyes meeting the identical set that you possessed, "Was school really that bad?" That was more of a rhetorical question on his part, he knew everything about you.

"The teasing sucks...They call me 'Laser Eyes'..." Homelander stifled a laugh when you said that, to which you narrowed your eyes.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" He said with a chuckle, "That is the stupidest insult I've ever heard!" Homelander took a moment to stop laughing before he looked back to you. "Look. I'm not laughing at you, kiddo. I would never. But Laser Eyes...? Really? They couldn't come up with anything more original? I mean...Even I'd be hesitant to insult you considering you could just laser them in half." He said. His smile was almost manic looking.

"What?" You asked, almost dumbfounded. "I would never...I could never." You said. You pulled your chin off your knees, your eyes still narrowed.

"Why couldn't you? You're a Supe...aren't you? I mean...mommy swooping in and bribing administration to take disciplinary action against those little shit stains isn't exactly making you out to be the strongest person..." You almost immediately sat up correctly in your chair.

"She bribed the administration...?" You ask softly. Homelander gave a mock frown as he noticed your eyes become glossy.

"You didn't know? Gosh...How much was she keeping from you?" You swallowed as he spoke and tried your best not to cry. The last person you wanted to look pathetic in front of was Homelander...Especially considering his earlier comment about it not being a good look that your mom always had to swoop in and save you. "Awe..." He started, scooting his chair closer to yours. "Don't cry kiddo...It's not your fault that you're so lost...It's hers." Your eyes met his once again, a tear slipping down your cheek, which you quickly reached up to wipe away.

"Lost?" You ask. Homelander nodded.

"Well, most Supes your age, with your abilities usually already have a professional presence...Or at least know how to use their powers correctly." He said, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "I mean, had I raised you? Had you not been wrongfully stolen from me after you were born? You'd already have a place in the Supe community, followers...maybe even a contract with Vought. You wouldn't just be floating in your own little bubble...You'd have a group. A family." Something in you broke when he spoke. Your mother had stolen you from your biological father? And had he raised you, you wouldn't be so...you? So lonely and misplaced? You couldn't help the tears that slid down your cheeks. It was as if your entire life had been flipped upsidedown.

"She...S-she really kept all that from me?" You asked. Homelander tutted softly, almost pitying you. He stood up and held out his arms.

"Come here, kiddo..." He said softly, with a tone of empty sympathy. You almost immediately stood up and buried your head in his chest. At this point....What else did you have? Who else did you have? He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you, his hug firm, considering he was so much larger than you...yet comforting, despite the strange material of his suit.

'It's alright, Y/N...You're right where you need to be. We'll get you up and running with those powers of yours in no time..." He said softly, resting his chin on top of your blonde hair. He caught the reflection of the two of you in the large window that lit the room and his grip tightened, almost possessively. "You're not alone anymore...got it? You've got your dad to keep you company..." You nodded against his chest, sniffling.

"Got it." You responded softly, hugging him a bit tighter. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe Homelander, no, your father was what was best for you. How could you have been living in the dark for so long without realizing it...? You were truly lost. But everything was okay now. You were finally safe, in your fathers embrace.

Homelander smiled wickedly at his own reflection in the window before he rested his cheek on your head. Finally...he had you. His own child that he had been trying to get his bloody hands on for years...Losing another Vought scientist was a necessary sacrifice in the bigger picture of his perfect narrative...and it all started right here. With you. His child. He smiled as he pulled away from the hug, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders.

"How does a milkshake sound, huh? I know Planet Vought has a double chocolate one that's yummers." You smiled and nodded as he moved his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I love chocolate." You said with a small laugh. Homelander chuckled as he turned you towards the door of the meeting room and started walking, his firm hand on your shoulder urging you forward.

"I know."

————————————————————————

I hope ya’ll enjoyed! I left it open for more parts so totally let me know if you’d be interested in reading more. Writing for Homes is always a questionable adventure 💀 Until next time, Adieu!

[trendywaifus]

↳ you know you’re better than this.

featuring — anya x gn! reader (mouthwashing)

no, i don’t write for mouthwashing, there’s just not any anya content.

cw: dark themes, mentions of sexual abuse, abuse, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting, blood, implications of suicide, character deaths, controlling behavior, triggering themes, angst, panic attack, reader is fresh out of medical school, barely hurt and comfort

6 weeks before the crash.

“ guess who~? “

you croon, playfully hovering your hands over the onyx haired woman’s eyes as you snuck up behind her in the med room. anya was standing in front of the sink, quietly washing her hands. a soft giggle rolls off her smiling lips, body language relaxed,

“ hmm, daisuke?”

you snicker, “ i didn’t know i was a silly boy.”

anya hums thoughtfully while the faucet still runs and her hands soaking wet. “ captain? “

“ yes it is i, the big softie blond with curls! “ you proclaimed, goofily deepening your voice to make the voice of the captain, curly. if curly was here, he definitely would of made fun of your half-baked impression of him. anya lets out a bubbly laugh that makes the corner of your lips curl upwards even more. you fight the urge to hug her from behind and squeeze her silly from how wondrous she is. to think you get to be on a space trip with the woman you love and admire deeply makes you wanna float through the endlessly sea of stars and wonder.

“ now that I guessed you right, can i finish washing my hands and greet my lover properly? “ anya asks in a jovial tone.

“ mhmm~ “ you removed your hands away from her eyes and backed off so she can finish washing her hands. it takes a few moments for anya to finish. she turns the faucet off, grabs a paper towel from the dispenser, and wipes her hands off. after throwing the crumbled paper towel in the small bin, she turns around to finally face you. despite her hues resembling a gloomy grey, they brighten as they drink you in. anya immediately seeks for you, wrapping her arms around your frame and gently brushes up against you. you gladly reciprocate the loving gesture, running a delicate up her back and let it rest on her upper back.

“ so, how’s evaluations going three months in? “ you asked, pressing a quick kiss to her brow, “ has the others evaluations been okay? no crazy confessions yet right? “ you inquired with a teasing voice. anya is far experienced in psychology than you are so you leave the evaluations to her. and because anya’s more outgoing and hands-on, you felt like anya’s more capable of taking on medic role. you were luckily squeezed on this ship as a last minute intern similar to daisuke for the experience. six people on a four-man ship is so far quite the experience. you try not to get in the way of the others and besides anya, you mostly interact with curly and daisuke.

anya pauses, recalling her memories from the monthly evaluations.

“ hm. .—oh! daisuke. .a very bright and funny boy that really puts himself out there. he inspires me to be more optimistic. ugh, he’s also disgustingly lucky when it comes to those board games we play. “ her lips ball up in a cute pout, you laugh, “

“ stop saying he’s lucky, anya. you’re just being a sore loser. just accept that he’s better than you at board games! “

anya playfully rolls her eyes, “ oh hush. don’t tell me you’re on his side. “

you smirked, “ i’m on your side, beautiful—buttt i’m still gonna hand you the truth. lovingly. “

anya tells you about the other three evaluations, curly, swansea, and jimmy. her voice is light-hearted when she talks about curly. she describes him as being kind but a bit reserved. he never talks much about himself. everyone has their own story and perhaps even some like him chooses to not tell his as it’s locked away behind the fleshy walls of his bleeding heart. when anya got to swansea, her tone is the same but it’s dampens a bit; melancholic. she describes the crude mechanic as a man who’s been through a lot in life and still lives on despite his struggles. despite how rough he acts, there’s something about him that makes you feel sorry for him. there’s a sort of loneliness that clings to him like the fresh scent of dry balls after drying your clothes in a dryer. however, you can tell that daisuke’s light is smearing onto the much older man’s demeanor. he’s a little more livelier, although very rough on the edges—swansea expresses his care for daisuke in a tough love kinda way.

when anya finally gets to the gruff brunette man, the atmosphere shifts. her words holds a certain weight to them that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable. her voice is meek and reluctant as she talks about his recent evaluation. you pick up on anya’s careful wording and brief pauses during it. she rests her cheek against your shoulder, holding you visibly tighter as if she’s trying to ground herself through you. anya says that he doesn’t really take his evaluation seriously and makes particularly sarcastic comments at her. great. you don’t like jimmy because there’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. was it that permanent mean look on his face? that judgmental look in his hooded, brown eyes whenever he passes by you in the hallways? what could have you possibly done to him to make him look at you like that? you don’t really talk to him and care more for curly. he is the leader and main pilot after all.

“ . .if he’s making you uncomfortable, i can do his evaluations for you. psychological evaluations require a one on one session and i can do it while you’re outside of the door.” you mutter, rubbing loose circles into anya’s back.

your lover stays silent for a moment. “ . . .no, i can handle it. but, you standing behind the door instead puts me a little more at ease though, haha. “

“ of course. anya, look at me. “ and she does, pulling her head away to peer at you with those pretty, upturned eyes of hers. a tender palm cups her cheek. anya’s skin feels warm and soft to the touch. “ if anything happens, you’ll tell me right? i may only be the intern but i will absolutely raise hell for you. “

anya smiles at you warmly at you, grayish eyes twinkling with endearment. she leans in and kisses your lips. “ i prefer that you not to because i’d hate for you to get booted into space by the crew. “ she remarks jokingly in between brief kisses.

“ hmm. “ you bring your lips to the bridge of her nose, under the tender flesh of her eye, everywhere until she’s a smiling mess. “ we’ll have to see about that. “

5 weeks before the crash.

restless, you exhale as you blankly stare at the white ceiling. due to anya’s head laying on your chest and her body nuzzled against your side, you can hardly change positions or get up, really. you don’t want to wake her up either.

“ can’t sleep? “ she whispers out gently, her hand that was intertwined with yours, lightly squeezed.

“ mmm, not really. did i wake you up with my defeated sighs, anya? “

“ . . kinda. but i’m use to this by now since this is a habit you like to do when you can’t sleep, (name).”you can hear the fond smile in her voice. after two years of dating, anya’s able to read and soak up your habits. she’s so attentive to your mannerisms, knows when you’re apprehensive by the twitching of your fingers and eyes. she knows when you’re happy, sad—it’s quite ridiculous how could someone so knowledgeable like her is struggling to get accepted to med school several times while it only took you once to get in. you’re not a registered nurse prior to getting into med school or anything like that. yes, you worked really hard—but lets admit it; you were just simply lucky to get in. lucky and currently hundred thousand dollars in debt after finishing.

“ i’ll let you sleep. i think i will just sneak into med bay to finish reading the social animal. i wanna be good at psychology as my awesome, future wife is.” you asked, pressing a chaste kiss on her temple.

anya laughs sleepily, “ oh, stop it. you’re not going to fall asleep in there, are you? “

“ of course not! i’ll come back to you once i’m feeling tired. but, if you miss me or have a nightmare, you know where to find me~ “

she removes her head off your chest and breaks away from you with a soft pout. “ i suppose so. “

you get up from the bed and dipped down to kiss the tip of her pretty roman nose. “ buh bye for now, beautiful. ” you coo, adjusting the blanket back over her body.

“ see you, hun. “

you slip on your slippers and walked out of your shared cabin. besides the sound of the low humming noise of the ship, silence fills the void of the still atmosphere. it’s surprisingly chilly as you exit the sleeping quarters and walk through the narrow-like hallways to medical. your footsteps softly bounces throughout the metal walls and your distorted shadow follows behinds you. there’s a churning feeling in your gut as you walk and walk. was it really okay to skip off to medical at the middle of “night” just to read? wouldn’t it have suffice to simply stay and talk to anya until you were able to fall asleep?

your eye twitch and your fingers curl ever so slightly.

should you just go back to her?

“ hey, you’re still “up.”

a rough voice calls out, ripping you away from your thoughts. you stop walking. your eyes wander over to the source and a shiver runs down your spine. jimmy, still in his jumpsuit, stands by the hallway leading to the cockpit. there’s a sense of uneasiness in the air as his quiet gaze lingers on you, waiting for your response.

“ yeah, can’t sleep. “ you say in a deadpan voice, “ what about you? “

jimmy runs his fingers through his tousled chocolate locks before shrugging. “ same as you. but i’m just taking a aimless stroll. where you headin’ to? “

none of your business.

“ medical. “

there’s something in his eyes that visibly changes; a taunting glint that has you side-eyeing him. a corner of his thin lips curl into a subtle, smug smirk.

“ you’re a little ways to go, dr. intern. “

you roll your eyes and start walking pass him, “ i know. at least i know where to go, mr. co pilot. “

jimmy clicks his tongue behind you, muttering something under his breath before his footsteps become distant in your ears. you turn your head, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder. you see his tall silhouette walking down the direction towards the sleeping quarters. “ smug fuck, i hope you sleep like shit tonight. “ you murmur, trying your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your tummy.

with a tired sigh, you slumped in the chair, turning one of many pages you gone through. the ticking clock in the background occasionally hits your ears as your fingers lazily drum against the pristine white surface of the desk. your droopy (e/c) eyes skim across a quote that leaves the remainder of your conscious mind wondering.

reason and emotion are not separate and opposed. reason is nestled upon emotion and dependent upon it. emotion assigns value to things, and reason can only make choices on the basis of those valuations. the human mind can be pragmatic because deep down it is romantic.

“is it wrong to use only reasoning to make a decision devoid of emotion . .? or is it actually wrong to let your emotions influence your decisions and reasoning? ” you sleepily muse to yourself.

oh, being human is so complicated.

your head perk up at the medbay door sliding open. surprise is written all over your face once you see a seemingly shaken up anya walking inside. her arms are tucked to her chest, hands clutching her elbows.“ anya? it’s only been. .two hours? you had a nightmare already? “ you asked worriedly, standing up from the desk to make your way over to her.

“ i. .y-yes, it was t-terrible. .” anya whispers in a quivering voice. her head is down, avoiding eye contact. you try to grasp her elbow and lure her into your arms but she violently flinches from your touch.

pulling away quickly, your face contorts into a look of worry. “ baby? “

teary-eyed, anya quickly lifts up her head, mustering a shaky smile. “ oh dear, i-i’m sorry. i-i’m just still quite shaken up from the nightmare, h-haha. i need a minute or so to recoup myself. can i stay here with you? “ anya sometimes get nightmares but it was only due to stress. she never had a nightmare that got her like this.

“ . .of course. you don’t even have to ask. here, you can sit on one of those beds. “ carefully, you ghost your hand over the small of her back as you guide her to a bed. she quietly sits down with a soft sniffle and you follow suit. your heart squeezes at the sound of her soft hiccups and the sight of her head down. you can hardly see her face due to her saber strands hanging down. “ can. .is it safe for me to have my arm around you? “

she meekly bobs her head and you delicately curl an arm around her, taking note of her body momentarily stiffening up before gradually relaxing. “ do you want to talk about your nightmare? “

it takes her a moment to reply. “ . . no. i don’t really remember much of it now anyways. “

you frown, leaving it at that despite wanting to push for more. anya always remember her nightmares. there’s something that’s eating away at your gut and it’s making you anxious. you gnaw at your lip and your eyes twitch. you should be focusing on her. whatever you’re feeling right now is the result of your overthinking. you should trust her. it was just a rare, horrible nightmare that gotten her like this.

things can happen unexpectedly without an explanation.

perhaps you shouldn’t push for an answer and leave it alone?

1 week before the crash.

“ hah! i win! in your face! “ daisuke laughs in triumphant, placing his pink piece over on the next move that solidifies his victory. anya groans loudly next to you, crossing her arms and pouts like a kid who gotten their toy taken away. “ this is unbelievable! i almost had it! “

you laughed, “ better luck next time, anya. it seems like the kid has a brighter future than you when it comes to board games! “

ever since that night, anya’s been uncharacteristically a little distant and jumpy. she’d always seek for your touch. but now, she seems reluctant to touch you first. whenever you try to show anya any kind of affection, it takes her a moment to reciprocate. you can’t really surprise her now or she’ll get visibly startled. anya has trouble sleeping and wakes up from the any sound or movement so you have to be still. for the past four weeks, you tried to ask her about her abnormal behavior, and she’d tell you vague reasons like, “ i just haven’t been feeling well. “ or “ that nightmare got to me more than i thought, i’m sorry. “

you’re worried about her—even her smiles are dampened with a sliver of sadness behind them. you really want to help but you don’t know how. it feels like she’s slowly putting a wall between you, her, and her true feelings. at least right now she’s like her old self again. you’re glad.

“ hey guys. having fun in here, huh? “ curly and jimmy walks inside the lounge. the blond waves at the three of you with a welcoming smile while jimmy awkwardly stood behind him.

“ yeah! i was able to beat anya this time! isn’t that right, anya? “

“ mhm, but as usual, it was luck. “ anya says softly, her voice lacking the enthusiasm as it did before. she tucks her arms into her chest. you flash her a look of concern. there it is again, the churning feeling in your belly. why did her mood sour like that? was it because of curly and jimmy’s arrival? your eyes travel back to the two men, quietly observing them. curly ruffles daisuke’s hair as he stood behind the couch daisuke is sitting on. he’s completely focused on talking to daisuke. your gaze transition over to jimmy and his eyes meet with yours.

that same glint he had in his eyes a few weeks ago, has you feeling more than uneasy. then, your mind suddenly flashes back to the subtle smirk he had and him walking back to the direction of the sleeping quarters. not too long after him going over there and you lounging in medbay, anya joins you, trembling and barely wanting you to touch her. you thought about her saying it was a bad nightmare and didn’t remember enough to tell you the details of it. like what you thought about before, anya always remembers her nightmares and only gets them due to stress.

the horrible realization starts to sink in and your heart drops to the very pits of your stomach. it drowns in a sea of dread.

oh god, did he go to her while you were. . .?

you feel sick. why did you ignore that gut feeling in your stomach during your walk to medbay back then? why didn’t you stay with anya? why did you just figure this out now?

you stand up unexpectedly, startling everyone.

“ (name)? what’s the matter? “ anya asks with clear worry. throat dry, you gathered up the strength to cast her a assuring smile that doesn’t reach your eyes in which she notices right away.

“ i. .i need to go to the restroom. i’ll be back everyone. . “

you quickly slide the bathroom door behind you. unable to hold your own weight anymore, you fall to your knees. there’s a suffocating feeling in your chest that’s causing your breathing to become uneven. your mind races back to the evaluations and how uncomfortable anya looked every time she had to do jimmy’s. yes, you stood behind the door to provide her some “security” in the recent weekly evaluations, but god, you actually let her be in the same room alone with this man? her assaulter? you did basically nothing but blindly trusted her words and ignored your intuition.

maybe anya didn’t want to tell you because she knew that you’d make a big uproar out of it, thus making the situation possibly even worse?

or maybe she was afraid you’d look at her differently?

. . .or maybe jim threatened her to not tell the crew?

t r u s t

she kept this in all this time and gave these inconsistent reasons that you knew was out of character for her to make up. . and yet. .you ignored the obvious signals and trusted her anyway. all you had to do was listen to your gut feeling and sit down with her to talk. all you had to say was that you were there for her and you’ll listen to anything she has to say if she wants to talk. you’d do anything for her—anything. even if it meant the cost of your internship which matters practically nothing to you. it’s not like the company was worth shit anyways. what fucking company doesn’t implement locks on doors in rooms where their own employees sleep in? what company just allows someone like him in?

tears bubble in your eyes as you grit your teeth, seething in frustration. you bite down on your bottom until the thin layer skin easily rips and starts to bleed. you bawl your hands into tight fists, nails dig into your palm until moon crescents dig into the flesh. you’re so horrible.

you feel so sick.

this is what she must of felt but much much worse.

you can’t even imagine how she had to process what happened all alone in the dark and walk through the long corridors in dead silence just to get to medbay, to you. you can’t imagine how it feels to hide something so traumatic from everyone while gathering up your broken shards of identity in silence. you don’t blame her—you can never blame her from hiding what happened between her and jimmy. you can only blame yourself for being ignorant and not fully realizing how dangerous he truly is.

your stomach turns upside down and you feel the sudden need to vomit. you scrambled over to the toilet and puke your guts out. series of fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“ ugh. .” you coughed hoarsely, hunched over.

you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick—

a few firm knocks on the bathroom door made you freeze.

anya’s concerned voice calls out behind the bathroom door. “ (name), are you alright? are you feeling well? “

you couldn’t even respond properly without hacking which gave yourself away immediately. alerted by your excessive coughing, she successfully slides the door open and rushes inside to your aid.

you never locked the door behind you, did you?

“ i’m here, (name). please, let it all out. “ anya rubs your back soothingly, not bothered by the drool and vomit spilling from your lips. you feel embarrassed under the worried, gentle gaze of anya. she whispers comforting words as you finishing vomiting. she grabs some paper towels and silently offers to wipe your face. you shake your head and gingerly take the towels from her hands and do it yourself.

anya opens her mouth to speak but you interrupt her.

“ it’s funny, “ you half laughed and sobbed, “ how you were able to come in so quickly just as i realized the door wasn’t locked. “

anya’s eyes widen with shock and looks as if she was about to burst into tears.

1 month after the crash.

“ anya, sweetheart? “ you gently call out to her before resting a hand on anya’s shoulder as stood by the sink, soaking curly’s bandages with soap and water. the fresh bandages are slowly starting to run out because of curly’s nonstop bleeding. you and anya both agreed to clean and reuse the bandages after one use to maintain the supply.

she still slightly jumps and turns her head around with a soft smile. “a-ah! s-sorry, (name). what’s wrong? “

“ let me clean the bandages and give captain his meds. you’ve been standing there for the past forty minutes. sit out in the lounge, okay? after watching you the first few times, i know what to do. “

a look of uncertainty dwells on her face as she ponders over your words. gingerly, you place a hand over her stomach. “ please, anya? i’ve seen how uncomfortable you look when you do this for him, you don’t have to hide it from me because i’m your lover. we’ve talked about this. i’ll do anything i can to shoulder your burden and make sure that you’re not pushing your body. “

anya’s grey hues flicker with appreciation and a twinge of guilt. “ okay, i’ll go sit down. if you need me, please holler out. i-i hate to make you do this after—“

“ anya. “ you interrupt her, reaching out to cradle her pale cheeks. they feel warm under your palms. your gaze pools into her own. “ anything. “ you whisper, resting your forehead against hers. anya’s lips pursue in a thin line. you know she wants to object but she swallows her words without anything to wash it down with, leaving behind a bitter taste. you lift your chin to press a lingering kiss to anya’s forehead.

tentatively, anya walks out of the medical, leaving you and a shell of a man in the room alone. a deep sigh runs past your lips and you go over to the half–foamed up desk to quietly grab a bottle of pain meds. “ captain. “ you mutter, walking over to the bed where he permanently lays. what a pitiful sight to witness. curly resembles a meat bag, his limbs left horribly mutated and amputated, his once tan skin is now all gone and long burned off. he’s stripped from his protection and only his vulnerable muscles are exposed. his only eye, wide and blue, stares up at you. you stare back blankly. through a singular sea of blue, you see a mass of fear, pain, and most of all, regret.

“ i don’t hate you, captain, “ you pop the bottle open. “ i’m sure anya doesn’t either. well, anya wouldn’t bring herself to hate you even if she wanted to anyways. “

he doesn’t respond but his permanent wide–eyed gaze continues to stare you down.

“ i’ll give you 5mg of oxycodone before i do your bandages. i’ll give you your second dose afterwards.”

you shake out two pills from the bottle. “ . . .all of this isn’t really your fault. misguided karma can be cruel. however, “ you slowly opened his jaw, the slimy sound of his muscles moving against each other makes you cringe. you see why anya can get more nauseated off of this. “ misplaced trust in a bitter person who’s undeserving of trust in the first place is what gets someone like you in a position like this. “

you hold his jaw, his exposed, irritated muscles twitch erratically against your protective layer of skin. your stomach swirls with a sinking feeling. curly starts to breath heavily, his pupil dilates. you hold one pill between your index finger and thumb. hot tears prickle at the corner of your twitching eyes as a shaky grin stretches across your face, and a bead of sweat rolls down your brow. you feel sick to the utter depths of your stomach.

“ don’t struggle , yeah? “

this wasn’t your worst moment right , curly?

0 days before the crash.

“ curly, fuck, where did he walk away to? “ you stopped curly in the middle corridors, pulling him back by his broad shoulder with a firm hand. curly, who’s face is full of panic and confusion, frantically responds back. “ i-i don’t know but i’m going to go find him to try and talk—“

“ i-i’m sorry, talk? this goes beyond talking at this fucking point! that fucking dog assaulted anya and she’s pregnant! “ you spat, heart full of frustration, “ do you think talking to her assaulter is going to fix shit? do you think doing the bare minimum is going to take back what she went through?! “

he runs a trembling hand through his blond curls. “ i-i understand but—fuck, let me just try—and—and, “

your hand drops to your side and you send him a look of utter disappointment. “ un—fucking—believable. how many times did anya tell you about jimmy? did you know about his shitty behavior even before she got pregnant? assaulted? she doesn’t want to tell me the answer so i’m fucking asking you! “

he stays slient, the guilty expression dawning on his face says it all.

“ . .what a great leader you are, captain. “ you growled, “ allowing that shitty friend of yours to ride this ship and you do barely nothing until the situation blows up in your face. this is what happens when you let your personal emotions dilute your judgment and reason as a leader. this is the outcome. the crew is my responsibility, my ass. if i had it my way, i would of shoved his ass in the cryo pod the second i’ve found out. but alas, i’m not the fucking leader but a damn intern. i held it allll in for a week for this shit? just imagine how anya felt to endure the awful trauma longer than that only for you, the captain, the only person with power, to handle it so horribly. fool.”you turn your heels and stomping back to medical for anya.

4 months after the crash.

“ daisuke. . kiddo, “ you gently call out to him as you find him somberly laying on his back next to the area leading to the cargo. his forearm rests over his eyes.

“ you okay? “

“ no, not really. .it’s just. .i wonder what my mother thinks right now. .she’s probably thinking i’m finally putting my feet into the water, finally learning and figuring out what i should to do in life during this internship. .meanwhile i’m on my back getting wasted off of. .mouthwash. ”

you sit down next to him. you thought about what to say for a prolonged moment before asking him,

“ before all of this, did you enjoy the internship? “

“ i. . .i did. .i was having fun . .with swansea, anya, you, a-and . . “

daisuke lets out a soft sniffle, you just smile solemnly.

“ don’t cry, sunshine. as long as you enjoyed yourself, that’s all that matters. even in the predicament we’re in now. .let’s have hope. once all of this is over, your mother will be proud that you got through this internship and you should tell her allll about what you did and learned with the ol’ man swansea. that man is a hot mess but i know he enjoys you as his intern.”

“ . . .really? “ he meekly asks, peeking at you from under his forearm with teary eyes. god, daisuke looks like a sad puppy.

“ of course, kiddo. “ you force out a happy laugh to appease him. you hate to lie to him but as long as jimmy is attempting to play captain, the situation will continue to spiral down into the abyss. you know with absolute certainty that jimmy was the one who caused the ship to crash. the fact that man pinned the blame on his close friend, who was trying to see good in him, for crashing the ship is beyond disgusting. judging from curly’s recent evaluation from anya before the crash, he did seem a little melancholic. but, for him to drastically make a reckless decision to sabotage the ship and everyone in it? he wouldn’t do that even if it was on his mind. jimmy on the other hand. .

“ oh. .it seems like you beat me to him. is he alright?”anya’s relieved voice rings in your ears. you draw your attention over to your partner who’s walking down the corridor towards you and daisuke. she uncrosses her arms that was once tucked to her chest and you raise a brow.

“ yeah, just a little sad but i was talking to him. how’d you know he was here? “

her gaze averts to the ground and you jump up, anger bubbles in your chest. “ jimmy, wasn’t it? what did he do? he didn’t hurt or yell at you or anything, did he? “

you pace over to her and rest your hands on her shoulders. “ no, no—seriously, i’m okay. . he sent me here to check on daisuke while he took care of some things. i was just surprised you were here. “ it had to be more then that.

sighing heavily, you turn back to daisuke who was now attempting to get back on his feet. “ daisuke, be careful. .has swansea been making you drink that mouthwash stuff again with him? “ you questioned skeptically, walking over to him to assist him back on his feet. wobbling, the brunette boy softly groans as you let him rest his arm loosely around your shoulders for support.

“. .no. .yeah. . i. .may. .kinda, totally have went overboard with it this time. b-but i gave it to jimmy because i didn’t wanna mess with it anymore. “

aggravated, you smack your teeth, “ so you’re saying that he saw you like that and didn’t even bother to help you up himself and sends anya down here instead? i’m so sick of his shit! some fuckin’ wannabe captain he is! you could of threw up and choked on your own damn vomit! that careless fucker knew that! “

“ you’re starting to sound like swansea. “ daisuke mutters through his drunken haze.

anya speaks up in a soft voice that’s mean to calm you. “ (name), you have to calm down. i understand that you’re upset. .but we need to rest daisuke down somewhere in the lounge. “

your eye twitch and your lips purse. she was right. plus, you don’t want daisuke to hear all of this while he’s struggling with his own inner conflicts. even the effects of the dire situation is dawning down on him and taking a toll on his mental health.

but fuck, you’re tired of being quiet.

d o s o m e t h i n g

? ? ¿ ! months before the ????

you can’t sleep. a soft sigh leaves your lips. anya’s body lightly stirs besides you. you don’t want to leave her but it’d be right to check up on curly to see if he needs his meds. there’s no time clock but curly’s groaning and restlessness indicates you that it’s time for his painkillers. if he is in pain, you’ll just give him his meds and come back to anya. it’s been a straight shot to the medical room ever since the crash. the foam has completely fucked up the sleeping quarters. . maybe it’s for the better or worse now. everyone is bunched together in the lounge room with extra sleeping beds from the medical. luckily, there hasn’t been any problems amongst the crew and it’s easier to keep in eye on jimmy.

“ anya, “ you whispered out to her. she lays on her left side, facing you. pieces of her shaggy hair prettily hovers over her tired eyes as they fluttered open. “ yeah? “ she responds back, you send her a small smile, reaching out to brush the strands away from her face.

“ i’m going to go check up on captain in the medical. i’ll. .be back, okay? if this dumb thing goes off, “ you gesture to the broken robot standing an inch away from you and anya’s sleeping bags. thankfully it’s able to go off, albeit broken thanks to jimmy. originally, anya suggested the idea and you couldn’t agree more with it.

“ i’ll be running to you so fast like how i did after i found out that passed my final exams. “ you whispered playfully.

recalling the joyful memory, a soft giggle leaves anya’s lips. she remembered you were so anxious and restless over the final exams that she kept having to pinch you and make you run with her to get your mind off of things. once you found out that you passed med school, you ran so fast to anya while she was waiting outside of the campus for you and nearly ran her over. she nods with a beautiful smile that you missed so much. anya was always a carefree woman who was willing to go through hardships with a cool–mind and solutions. but, after this overhaul trip going downhill and the terrible shit that’s happened and is currently happening—the light in her eyes is duller. it mirrors her reserved and almost timid-like behavior now.

that’s not who anya is—that’s not her and that’s not who she should by the damages of a terrible, insecure man who refuses to swallow down his own ever-growing problems like a hard pill and take responsibility for his self-sabotaging actions. you bet he’d choke on himself and self-destruct if he ever tried swallowing. all he ever does is vomit and project himself onto others.

“ okay. we can also clean his bandages after we’ve rested. “ anya suggests.

you shake your head, ghosting a hand over her belly. the bump has slowly been getting bigger but isn’t very noticeable to others. “ there’s no we, just me. the last time you got nauseated, you asked jimmy to give curly his meds while i was busy with daisuke and. .he. .” you trailed off and sighed with frustration. you still can’t get over anya telling you the truth about jimmy getting frustrated at her for asking him to give curly his meds because of her nausea.

absolutely horrible.

before anya can say anything, you give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“ i’ll be back this time. “

you got up carefully to not alert the broken robot and paced towards medical. as you did, you glanced around the lounge to see who’s in their respective sleeping bags.

daisuke is laid out asleep.

swansea has been sleeping by the utility and now you know why he was does. you don’t have any objections to it. it’s only fair for the sunshine to be preserved.

jimmy is no where to be found. cockpit, maybe?

as you near the medical, alarming sounds of struggling and curly’s groans made your heart drop. frantically, you sprinted towards the door and slammed it open.

s e c o n d c h a n c e

s e c o n d c h a n c e

“ wh-what the fuck are you doing, jimmy?! g-get off of him! “ her

you ran over to the self-proclaimed captain who was hunching over the defenseless curly, shoving pills into his mouth and down his throat while beating at his stomach. with all of your strength, you shoved jimmy backwards, pulling him away from curly’s mutilated body, who helplessly laid there in the bloodied medical bed, crying and groaning in pain.

“ are you out of your fucking mind, you crazy fuck?!”you screamed at him while he has this mixed, horrid look of panic and frustration on his unshaven face. the pill bottle clutched in his hand made a loud rattling noise as he drops them on the tile floor and it rolls next to you.

“ i-i— h-he was. .m-making too much n-n—oomph! “

thanks to your adrenaline, you shoved him—hard, causing him to stumble back against the desk. pill bottles tumble and crash onto the floor.

hurried footsteps approach the medical from the loud crashes and yelling.

“ so your fucking solution was to beat up that poor man who can’t even goddamn defend himself now? let me fucking remind you since you’re too busy trying to play captain and can’t take responsibility! that man is laying there, the way he is now, because of—ugh! “

in a burst fit of blind rage, he returns the favor and presses his heavy palms against your chest, harshly shoving you backwards. you try to maintain your balance, but your foot accidentally steps on one of the pill bottles, and you fall backwards onto the solid floor, hitting your head. hard.

crack!

you almost instantly black out. not before hearing a loud gasp and anya’s frantic shouting.

“ (name)! j-jimmy. . . at . .did. . .u do?! “

¿!!! ?????????

just me and you vs the world, anya.

“ seriously? this show is so horrible, anya! even my dad who has terrible taste in tv shows, can’t watch this! “ you groaned exaggeratedly, sinking your cheek into your palm, slouching on the elbow of the couch. anya shrugs with a smug smile, placing the tv remote down on the coffee table.

“ well that’s tooo bad, hun. i need to binge this show to clear my mind out completely. all i need is my go-to-combo i usually get from wendy’s. “

you roll your eyes, “ it could of been at least mcdonald’s or something. but. .wendy’s? “

“ they have the best frosties! don’t act you dislike it because they messed up your order once. “ she giggles, leaning over to playfully hit at your ankle.

the show starts and you can barely stomach it. you don’t understand how she zeros out her mind from watching this stuff. it’s so cheesy and bad.

you peer over at anya and just as expected, she’s watching it like she’s into it. anya’s sitting up against the couch, legs crossed while she’s wearing a oversized t-shirt and pajamas. her heap of black shaggy hair that reaches just below her shoulders, was beautifully messy. usually at night, she doesn’t really bother with it. her fair skin shines pretty under the tv light. her pretty lashes fluttering and downturned eyes glistening with interest as she watch the corny reality tv show—god, she’s so breathtaking.

“ so, anya. “ you speak up as soon as the tv cuts to commercials. her undivided attention draws over to you and you cast her a goofy, suggestive smile.

“ while this commercial runs, wanna makeout? “

she blinks at you several times as if to process your question and bursts out laughing.

“ ewwww! “

“ ewwww? what the hell, baby! c’meree. “ you get off the elbow of the couch to playfully grab and pull at the laughing anya’s arm to pull her closer.

“ we’re not some bored teenager couple, you know! “

you successfully pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her body. “ feels like we are when i’m with youu~ “ you coo, puckering your lips at her with teasing intent.

anya blocks your lips with her palm and you immediately lick at it. she gasps and retracts her hand away, allowing you the opportunity to topple her over and kiss all over her pretty face and pouty lips.

“ hehe, (name)! “

once you’re done with your barrage, you bury your face into her neck.

“ marry me once me and you become doctors, anya~ ” you croon, melting into her body.

there’s a momentary pause before her smiling voice responds to you, full of adoration,

“ of course. i wouldn’t have it any other way, (name).”

??? ??¿ is it finally over ??¿!

your eyes peel open, a surge of sharp pain and confusion shoots through your body like a needle. but, once your gaze immediately locks onto the woman you love above you, your heart calms a little. she doesn’t notice that you’re now awake and stares off into somewhere with brooding eyes.

“ a-anya? “

anya’s eyes widen and she snaps her gaze down at you in surprise as your head is currently laid on her lap. tears swell in the corner of her reddened eyes.

“ y-you’re awake again! i-i thought you were finally. .”

despite not being able to move your body from the waist under and through the pain pounding in your head, you smile weakly at her.

“ f-finally what? i-i told you i’ll come back to you. although. . .“ your eyes search the dim setting around you. it’s blurred and bright. it seems like you and anya are in the medical? didn’t you come back from medical after checking up on curly?

c o n f u s i o n

“ why aren’t we in bed? we’re in medical right now. . “

anya’s lips trembles as she struggles to not cry.

“ we’ve decided to rest in here and talk like we’re a bored teenage couple. “

you let out a weak laugh. “ r-really? my br-brain is all over the place right now. everything is starting to feel and look fuzzy. “

your eyes starts to dilate and unfocus but they never leave anya. she says nothing, and quietly caresses your cheek.

your skin has become more discolored while you were unconscious.

how many hours?

how many hours has it been since she locked herself with you and captain? and how many times has her thoughts endlessly ponder and ponder over jimmy’s words he once said to her months back?

t a k e c a r e o f i t

“ a-anya. .? “

anya forces out a smile. her quivering fingers brush away the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead.

my hands are s h a k i n g.

“ . .y-yes? “ anya can barely contain the heartbreak in her voice.

“ w-we’ll take of it together. “ you slurred, “ o-once i get my l-license, i’ll support us and you don’t need to w-worry about a thing. o-once the baby is born, i’ll take care of them while you st-study to get into medical school again. i-i’ll. .even help you. .too. i st-still have my. .notes. “

dark red liquid seeps down your nose. she sees the light becoming dull in your dilated (e/c) hues that she adored so much.

the external bleeding and swelling in your head is pulling you under.

a quiet sob slips from her throat and she gently brings your head up to her chest. her body shudders as she weeps.

there’s a few broken whimpers that sounds far too strangled to be hers or yours.

“ . . d-don’t cry, an. .ya, i. .i’m just g-gonna sleep. y. .you holding. .me like this. .makes me feel at ease. .i. .can finally sleep. .without. .leaving. .ou. .”

your eyes vanish behind discolored eyelids and your head slack against her.

and there’s a gaping hole akin to a black hole that swallows everything that bounded her down, her dreams, her hopes, her love, her fear, her emotions.

what’s left is reason—a reason to the best decision that anya alone can finally act.

with a strangely calm mind and red-rimmed solemn grey eyes, she glances up at the few bottles of pills now left on the desk.

you know you’re better than this.

m a k e n o m i s t a k e , t h i s i s n ‘ t m y w o r s t m o m e n t.

far from it. this is the best decision i’ll ever make.

i’ll take care of it.

everything’s black—but you hear banging, voices, bottles rattling, pained whimpering and strangled noises that sounds similar to a heartbroken man crying.

you slip back into momentary consciousness. through blurred vision, you see a slumped figure above you. you can’t identify who it is but red smears leaves a bit of a hard contrast to your unfocused eyes. without thinking, your feeble hand reach out and you’re only able to make contact with their chin, just with the tips of your fingers.

from one small touch, you can tell the skin long since lost its warmth and now is cold to the touch.

an unknown sorrow strikes your chest and you finally pass with a heart full of confusion, leaving it in a headlock.

[tritoch]

I wish people were willing to have a slightly broader or more expansive understanding of FFXIV's women because I think there's so much there in terms of easily-unearthed subtext that no one really thinks about! And I don't mean this in a "people need to re-evaluate their response to the women of Stormblood" way (though I do think that's largely true), I mean I think fandom's understanding even of the women it mostly likes is pretty weak. And you can say that's because the women are underwritten, and I won't argue that they couldn't use more attention from the writing, but that doesn't prevent you from analyzing them the way you can any character in fiction.

Like everyone's always like, oh, Y'shtola and Krile are like your snarky wine aunts, haha. But...Sharlayan is a pretty ossified and patriarchal society from what we see of it in Endwalker and places like the AST quests. Can we open ourselves to the possibility that it means something that almost every young Sharlayan woman we meet, almost all young women in academia, tends to be a little sharp and quick on the retort? The arch and snarky ways in which those two carry themselves reflect in some sense the facts that Krile is almost literally a nepo baby woman in STEM who is barely older than her students, while Y'shtola learned her behaviors from her much older female mentor, a woman who hated Sharlayan academic culture so much she literally abandoned it to go live in a cave.

Or like, Alisaie! Fan jokes and meta frequently buy into her tendency to characterize the dynamic between her and Alphinaud as a jock/nerd, street savvy extrovert vs book smart introvert thing. Except, tragically, Alphinaud's highest stat is 100% Charisma and he absolutely pulled in his student days. All his greatest achievements are diplomatic, and he very easily develops strong friendships with people in every culture you learn about. Alisaie is the determined, sensitive genius who revolutionizes Eorzea by proving the tempered can be healed. She's just permanently carrying a chip on her shoulder that while she and her brother are remembered as the youngest students in Studium history, actually he got in six months before her, a fact pretty much no one else ever brings up once. She's constantly fuming over the fact that he was marginally better than her in certain specific ways in high school, and looking to differentiate them in ways that actually fail to credit her own obvious strengths and accomplishments. I think that's so fun! It's so juicy, and it's equally good for comedy or serious character studies.

Venat is a genuinely benevolent hero who has no compunction sacrificing lives for the greater good. Minfilia is kind and compassionate and clearly on some level actually buys into the narrative of her own unique moral authority. Ysayle is a revolutionary firebrand with almost no concern for the common man, whose death reflects her Javert-like inability to reconcile her own romantic belief in justice with the tragic ways her blinkered worldview (born largely of trauma) let her be easily co-opted by a violent system. But even people who like these characters rarely move past surface-level reads (people who think Venat is just an all-loving mommy figure make me want to fucking die). The fandom is allergic to drawing connections the game doesn't draw, and fails to recognize that FFXIV is a game where characters voice understandings of themselves and others that are wrong about as often as they're right.

You can already see the ways that women like Wuk Lamat and Cahciua and Sphene are getting flattened or losing their shading in fan reception and it's boring. Like I'm not even saying this because you should take female characters more seriously or something (though you should), I'm literally just bored to tears sometimes and if you guys turn Wuk Lamat into another Hot Dumb Jock Lady, I will combust.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ HIM AND I

❛ 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘦. 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, "𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦", 𝘪 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥— 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: In a momentous night filled with cheers, Luna must confront the void of Jeonghan’s absence, finding solace in the echoes of his unwavering support from afar.

wc: 15k

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of anxiety, cursing, pda, flirting, teasing, texting galore, fluff, fluff, fluff, and more tooth-rotting fluff, prepared to be sick of them

surprise!! i simply couldn’t help myself after seeing my baby in the concert yesterday!! this reminded me of a few anon requests i had a few weeks ago (request 1) & (request 2). there are a couple of scenes here as well which were requested by you lovely humans and i decided to do them because of how excited i was. i hope you guys enjoy this even though it’s a little rushed.

also a little fun fact: i accidentally deleted this the second i finished it 💀 thankfully i had saved it in my google docs… almost had a mental breakdown. so please enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears 🤍

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

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Since the very first day they met in that green-colored practice room at PLEDIS, they were like two peas in a pod.

The moment Luna walked in, feeling the weight of both excitement and uncertainty, Jeonghan was the first to approach her. No hesitation, no judgment— just a warm smile and a hand stretched out in welcome.

From that point on, they were inseparable.

Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, and Luna, who had initially been more guarded, found a natural rhythm together. He was her first real friend at PLEDIS, and because of that, Luna quickly became his shadow. She followed him everywhere, always listened to him, and valued his opinion above anyone else’s.

Even before asking the others, it was always Jeonghan’s thoughts that mattered the most to her.

Jeonghan was the first to notice every little shift in her mood. He knew when something was bothering her just by a subtle change in her expression. A slight furrow of her brow, a distant look in her eyes— Jeonghan saw it all.

And it worked both ways.

Luna could read Jeonghan like a book, noticing the moments when he was tired, frustrated, or simply needed a break, even when no one else could tell.

They shared an unspoken understanding, a quiet connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

But it was during Luna’s first monthly evaluation at PLEDIS that their bond solidified into something deeper. The pressure had been mounting ever since she joined. Everyone knew her as the former YG trainee, the one they called ‘The Ace’.

Other trainees whispered about her in the hallways, speculating about her skills, her future, and whether she could live up to the hype. She was terrified, though she would never show it.

Luna stood there, her posture rigid, her expression stoic, but Jeonghan saw right through her.

He knew her mind was running in circles, knew that she was silently carrying the weight of everyone’s expectations.

Right before her turn came up, he pulled her aside, just out of view from the others. Without a word, he placed his forehead gently against hers. Luna’s eyes fluttered closed, and instantly, the world around them began to fade away. It was just the two of them, their breaths slowly falling into sync. She could feel Jeonghan’s steady breathing against her, and with each inhale, her racing heart began to slow.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan whispered softly, his voice calming and sure. “It’s just you and me.”

Luna’s lips parted as she repeated, her eyes still closed, “Just you and me.”

Jeonghan stayed like that for a moment longer, watching her closely, his forehead still pressed against hers. He saw the tension slowly melt from her face, saw her shoulders relax, and he knew she was ready.

He gave her a few seconds to breathe before he finished with one final phrase: “Nothing else.”

And then, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

From that day on, this simple but powerful ritual became their anchor.

Every time Luna faced a challenge— whether it was another monthly evaluation, their first nerve-wracking showcase, their debut stage, or even the countless music show performances that followed— Jeonghan was there.

Always.

Every single time.

And every time, without fail, their routine remained the same.

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, their breathing in sync.

“Breathe. It’s just you and me,” Jeonghan would say.

“Just you and me,” Luna would repeat.

And finally, Jeonghan would whisper, “Nothing else,” before placing that same gentle kiss on her forehead.

It became their unbreakable tradition, a constant in the whirlwind of their careers.

Every fan meeting, every concert, whether they were surrounded by thousands of screaming fans or in the quiet of a backstage room, they found those few moments for each other.

In their little bubble, it was always just them.

No matter how loud the world outside got, no matter the pressure or the expectations, when their foreheads touched and their breaths aligned, everything else faded away.

Nothing else mattered but each other.

Jeonghan and Luna had always found a way to stick to their ritual, no matter the circumstance.

There were times when Jeonghan wasn’t there with her before a performance, like when he had his elbow injury or when needed surgery for his ankle. He had been forced to sit out, recovering on the sidelines, watching as Luna and the rest of the members continued performing without him. And then there were moments when Luna wasn’t there either— laid up in bed, sick, forced to watch her team from a distance as they carried on without her.

Yet, even then, it didn’t matter.

They always found a way to connect, a way to anchor themselves in their shared tradition.

They would message each other, without fail, right before going on stage, sending the same words and phrases that had become their pre-show mantra.

Jeonghan’s simple, reassuring words would flash on her screen: Breathe. It’s just you and me.

And Luna would respond, without hesitation: Just you and me.

Jeonghan would finish with the final, comforting line: Nothing else.

It was never the same as having him physically beside her, but it was enough to ground her, enough to carry her through those moments of loneliness and anxiety.

Now, sitting backstage a few hours before the start of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Right Here’ tour in Goyang, Luna felt the familiar nerves bubbling up. They were kicking things off at the Goyang Stadium, a massive venue filled with excited fans waiting to see them.

But this time, it was different.

This time, Jeonghan wasn’t recovering from an injury.

He wasn’t at home, sick, waiting for the next chance to rejoin them on stage.

This time, Jeonghan was gone for what would feel like an eternity— two long years of military service.

As Luna sat in the makeup chair, her hair being carefully curled and styled, her makeup artist putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner, all she could focus on was the reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

Her face was dolled up, her hair perfectly styled, but none of it seemed to matter. Her eyes kept drifting back to her own reflection, searching for something to latch onto, something to calm the anxious storm brewing inside her chest.

This time, things were really changing.

She had come to terms with it over the last few years— the fact that Jeonghan would be gone and that after him, the rest of the members, aside from the foreign members and Seungcheol, would eventually follow.

The inevitability of it all had weighed on her, but she knew it had to happen.

Luna and Jeonghan had talked about it endlessly in the days leading up to his enlistment, late-night conversations filled with reassurances and reminders that this was something every man in Korea had to face.

Even on the day he left, Jeonghan had made it clear— he didn’t want her to be sad without him. That’s what he’d emphasized most. “Smile for me, yeah? You can cry, baby, but don’t spend the next two years crying about it. I’ll still be here. You’ll still see me.” he had said, a teasing grin on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But Luna knew better.

She knew how much he hated the thought of leaving her, even if he didn’t say it outright.

She was trying— really.

Really trying to see the bright side.

After all, Jeonghan hadn’t enlisted as a regular soldier. Because of his injury, he would be serving as a social worker instead, meaning he wouldn’t be stuck in the grueling life of a combat soldier. But even so, he still had to complete basic training.

He still had to endure those few weeks of separation. Almost two weeks had passed since and it was slowly driving Luna mad.

The last few months had been an emotional whirlwind, a rollercoaster she was still trying to process.

From headlining at Lollapalooza in Berlin to Jeonghan proposing to her the day before the festival, to their last date just days before his enlistment, and then, of course, being caught by the media.

Their five-year relationship and engagement were splashed across the headlines, their private lives exposed for all to see. The mixed reactions from fans and the public alike were something Luna had expected, but it was still exhausting.

And then, Jeonghan had left.

Just like that.

Officially inactive for two years— the two weeks of basic training already felt like an eternity.

And now, here she was, on the first day of their tour, her emotions on overdrive. The excitement of being on stage again, mixed with the crushing weight of Jeonghan’s absence, made her heart feel like it was caught in a tug-of-war.

She needed him here with her.

She needed his warmth, his comfort, his stupid little quips that always managed to pull a smile out of her, no matter how stressed she was.

As the team continued curling her hair, adjusting the strands to perfection, and applying the final touches to her makeup, Luna closed her eyes, trying to block out the bustling chaos of the dressing room. She could hear the other members around her, each one doing their own pre-show rituals. Some were talking and laughing, others were getting changed, or sitting in the makeup chairs.

It was the usual energy before a concert. But all Luna could hear were her thoughts, the mantra she and Jeonghan had shared for years repeating over and over in her mind.

Breathe. It’s just you and me.

The words echoed in her head as she tried to steady her breathing, to keep herself from spiraling into the anxious pit that had been creeping up on her ever since Jeonghan left.

Just you and me.

She whispered the words to herself, a quiet promise that, no matter how far away he was, he was still with her.

Nothing else.

Luna didn’t even realize her fingers had been fiddling with her rings— a telltale sign of her anxiety. She often did it without thinking, twisting and turning the metal bands around her fingers whenever her nerves got the better of her.

But now, the new addition on her left hand, the oval-shaped diamond engagement ring, caught her eye. Its sparkle under the dressing room lights felt like a beacon, drawing her attention to the very thing that had been on her mind all morning.

Her heart clenched, and for a moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

Seeing the ring, a symbol of her future with Jeonghan, only made her miss him more. But she fought it back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

Not today, she reminded herself. Today is a happy day. It’s the opening day of their world tour.

There was no need for tears— at least, not today.

She had promised Jeonghan she wouldn’t cry about it anymore, not about him leaving, not about the empty space beside her.

She was doing this for him, too.

Those thoughts began to ebb away, only to be replaced by a new wave of anxiety.

This would be her first time on stage since the confirmation of their relationship and engagement, and now, more than ever, she wished Jeonghan were there to face it with her. She always looked to him in these moments when the weight of the public eye felt like too much to bear.

But now, he wasn’t here, and the thought of going out there alone made her heartbeat quicken.

Anxiety slithered its way back into her chest, tightening its grip around her lungs.

I hate my mind sometimes, she thought bitterly, her fingers twisting the engagement ring as she tried to steady her breathing.

Luna wanted to be calm, to focus on the excitement of the concert, but her mind kept drifting back to all the pressure, and all the expectations.

She tried to push the thoughts away, inhaling deeply to force her heart to slow down.

Then, a sudden ding broke through the fog of her thoughts.

Her phone, resting on her lap, vibrated softly, bringing her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at the screen, blinking a few times to adjust.

Her lock screen— a photo of Jeonghan from their trip to Paris last year— made her heart skip a beat. He was posing in that carefree way only he could, the Parisian architecture stood in the background.

The memory brought a small smile to her face, but her heart skipped another beat entirely when she saw the name of the person who had just messaged her.

‘my angel boy🪽’

It was Jeonghan.

Luna almost burst into tears at the sight. Her fingers fumbled to unlock the phone as she hurriedly opened the message, heart pounding in her chest.

One word stared back at her:

Luna could’ve cried right then and there, overwhelmed by how perfectly Jeonghan knew her.

Even when he wasn’t physically there next to her, even when they hadn’t spoken in nearly two weeks, he still knew exactly what she needed to hear.

She didn’t know how she got so lucky, how she had found someone so attuned to her, so aware of her emotions.

How did I get so lucky? she thought, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. How am I this blessed to have him?

Her fingers moved quickly across the screen as she typed, a sense of urgency settling in her chest.

She needed reassurance, despite the fact that it was literally his number. She knew it was him, but a part of her needed to hear him say it again, needed to know he was still there with her in some small way.

The reply came almost immediately as if he knew she’d be waiting, breath held.

Luna’s chest tightened at the words, her heart swelling and her throat constricting. If it weren’t for the fact that her makeup artist was just finishing up her eye makeup, she probably would have let the tears spill over. But she blinked them back, biting down on her lip to keep herself steady.

Luna let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since she’d sat down in the makeup chair.

She was so thankful for him, so unbelievably grateful that no matter what, Jeonghan always found a way to be there for her. Even in the middle of his military service, he had still managed to send her exactly what she needed.

He always found a way for her.

And then, a thought entered her mind— one she didn’t want to entertain, but couldn’t help. She wished it were true, wished more than anything that he was here with her, physically present.

Her fingers moved on their own as she typed the words she was afraid to ask but desperately wanted to hear.

The seconds ticked by slowly, agonizingly, as she waited for his reply. Her heart pounded in her chest, hope mingling with dread, until finally, his answer came through:

For a moment, Luna’s heart nearly stopped.

Jeonghan was here.

He was really here.

The overwhelming urge to jump out of her chair and run through the stadium to find him flooded her senses.

She wanted nothing more than to see him, to feel his arms around her, to know that he was there in the audience watching her, supporting her as he always had.

Luna stared at the screen, her heart racing and her fingers trembling slightly over the phone as she typed back to Jeonghan. The soft warmth of his words lingered in her chest like a quiet flame, steadying the swirl of emotions that had been consuming her moments before.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and soft, comforting her through the miles that stretched between them in her heart, despite knowing he was right there in the audience.

Her lips curled into a smile as her fingers hovered above the keyboard, their playful banter still vivid in her mind.

Her gaze drifted from the phone for a moment, taking in the organized chaos of the dressing room around her. The makeup artists and staff were in their usual whirlwind, preparing for the show, but Luna’s world had narrowed down to that little device in her hands and the man on the other side of the screen.

Luna could practically feel his presence in those words— steady, reassuring like he was holding her hand through the screen.

As the conversation came to a close, Luna found herself taking a deep breath.

The anxiety that had been gnawing at her seemed to ease as Jeonghan’s words echoed in her mind. He had this way of grounding her, making everything seem a little less daunting.

With her heart still pounding but in a much softer rhythm now, she tucked her phone away, letting out a small exhale.

The moment was tender and fleeting, but it was enough. Enough to remind her of why she was here, why she was standing on the precipice of something so grand, and why she wouldn’t let her fears hold her back today.

Because, as Jeonghan had said, it was just them— just Luna and him in this moment, no matter the crowd, no matter the circumstances.

Her gaze returned to the mirror, catching the reflection of the sparkling ring on her finger.

That simple band now held so much meaning.

It wasn’t just a promise of forever; it was a reminder that no matter where life took them, Jeonghan would always find a way to be by her side.

Luna released a long, steady breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she centered herself. She was still buzzing with excitement from the conversation with Jeonghan, her heart racing faster than it had any right to.

But now it was time to focus.

There was a show to do.

Opening night.

Slowly, she stood up from the makeup chair, her muscles loosening as the tension from the past few minutes ebbed away.

Her stylist, Jiwoo, called out her name just as Luna was about to head to her dressing room.

“Jiyeon-ah! Here’s your opening outfit.”

Jiwoo came toward her with the ensemble, a stunning black and white stage outfit designed to captivate under the lights. Luna’s fingers gently brushed against the fabric as Jiwoo handed it to her. The shimmering accents practically glowed under the dressing room lights.

“Wow,” Luna breathed out, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Why does it look better now than during the first dress rehearsal? It’s amazing.”

“Only the best for ou stars,” Jiwoo replied with a wink, smiling as she stepped back to admire the outfit Luna was clutching to her chest.

Luna felt a surge of warmth at her stylist’s words. She thanked her quietly before heading off, her mind now completely absorbed in the rhythm of preparation.

She was halfway down the room when she noticed Seungcheol, already dressed in his own stage outfit, leaning casually against the wall, eyes glued to his phone. His head was bobbing slightly to the beat of the music playing in the background, courtesy of Vernon, who had a playlist going to pump everyone up.

A mischievous smile formed on Luna’s lips as she quickened her pace and approached him. Without warning, she lightly punched him in the arm, enough to startle him but far from anything painful.

Seungcheol blinked in surprise, his eyes lifting from his phone to meet hers. “What was that for?” he asked, not angry at all but pouting back at her in mock offense. His expression was so comically disbelieving that it made Luna’s grin widen.

Luna gave him a playful pout of her own, leaning in slightly as she clutched the outfit closer to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an underlying warmth.

Her heart still fluttered at the thought of Jeonghan surprising her.

The realization dawned on Seungcheol, and his eyes widened slightly before nodded his head in understanding. “So, he told you already, huh?” He crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in mock scolding, looking down at her like a parent about to lecture their child. “Did he also tell you that he told us not to tell you?” His eyebrow raised as if challenging her, though the soft smile on his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

Luna almost burst out laughing at the way Seungcheol worded his sentence. He really could be so serious sometimes. Still, her pout remained as she nodded in confirmation.

Seungcheol sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Then why did you punch me?”

Luna couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, her expression softening as she looked up at him. “Because I’m happy, Cheollie,” she replied, her voice almost childlike in its honesty.

The simplicity of the statement, combined with the sincerity behind it, made the moment feel lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Seungcheol’s expression softened too. His stern act melted away as he looked at her, the leader in him always understanding, always protective. “Well, I’m happy that you’re happy,” he said, his tone gentle, filled with affection for his longtime friend.

Luna hummed in grateful acknowledgment, her chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

If she was fire, Seungcheol’s words had been gasoline, igniting her spirit even further.

She felt more energized than ever, more ready to step onto that stage and give her all.

Without thinking, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on Seungcheol’s cheek. The surprised look on his face made her giggle.

Then, with a renewed sense of excitement, she skipped— yes, literally skipped— down the hallway toward the changing room, her laughter echoing softly as she disappeared around the corner.

The members of SEVENTEEN could feel the shift in the atmosphere almost immediately.

Luna’s energy was palpable, radiating from her as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

For weeks now, they had watched her bury herself in work, her usual brightness dimmed by the heavy absence of Jeonghan. Ever since he left for his enlistment, it was as though Luna had lost a piece of herself. She had kept her head down, moving from one task to the next with little time to breathe in between.

Photoshoots, solo events, rehearsals, preparation for this concert —she threw herself into it all.

Even during Fashion Week, where she shone as brightly as any model on the runway, the members knew it wasn’t quite the same. They could see it in the way her smile never quite reached her eyes, how she lingered a little too long in the practice room after hours, working through the choreography over and over as if hoping the physical exhaustion would drown out the emotional strain.

But no matter how much work she piled on, it didn’t fill the void left by Jeonghan.

It wasn’t just her who felt it.

The rest of the group could sense his absence as keenly as she did.

Jeonghan was like the glue that held them all together, always there with a teasing smile or a comforting word, and without him, something essential was missing. It didn’t help that Jun wasn’t around either, caught up in his own projects back in China.

Two out of fourteen of their pillars were gone, and though the group was as close-knit as ever, the hole they left behind was impossible to ignore.

But tonight, as Luna skipped down the hallway, her lightness and joy infecting the air around her, the difference was startling. It was as if the dark cloud that had been hovering over her for weeks had finally broken, letting the sun shine through again.

And everyone noticed.

Seungkwan, who had been warming up his voice nearby, exchanged a glance with Dokyeom, who grinned knowingly. “She’s definitely in a better mood,” Seungkwan murmured, his eyes following Luna as she disappeared around the corner.

“Thank Jeonghan hyung for that,” Dokyeom chuckled softly.

The rest of the members murmured their agreement. They knew how close Luna and Jeonghan were; they had been witnesses to the growth of their relationship, from quiet glances and hidden smiles to the deep bond they shared now.

Watching Luna struggle these past few weeks had been hard on all of them, especially since there was little they could do to ease the ache of missing someone so important.

But tonight, with Jeonghan’s surprise appearance, it was as if a piece of her heart had been restored. Luna practically floated through the corridors, her excitement contagious. The members couldn’t help but feel a surge of their own happiness, relieved that at least for now, Luna’s spirit had been lifted.

They were grateful to Jeonghan for pulling her out of the fog she had been in, if only for a little while.

The concert looming ahead was significant for all of them— opening night for their ‘Right Here’ world tour. A twelve-member performance instead of their usual fourteen. It felt incomplete, yet seeing Luna smiling again was a balm for their own worries.

They might not be able to share the stage with Jeonghan and Jun tonight, but they would carry the spirit of their absent brothers with them.

And for now, it was enough.

The air in the backstage room buzzed with an electric tension, the kind that always hung in the moments before a show.

Luna could feel her heart racing in her chest as she stood in the familiar circle with the rest of SEVENTEEN, their hands together in front of them as they leaned in close. This huddle had become their tradition, a quiet moment of unity before they stepped onto the stage.

It was their anchor, the reminder that no matter how many people screamed their names or how many bright lights shone on them, at the core, it was still the fourteen of them— or in this case, twelve.

Seungcheol, their leader, always took the opportunity to speak in these moments. His voice was calm, but there was a fire beneath it, a quiet strength that reassured all of them. “Let’s give everything we’ve got out there,” he said, his eyes sweeping over the circle, locking briefly on each of them. “Opening night of our world tour, let’s give them a show. For Jeonghan and Jun.”

There was a pause as the weight of his words hung in the air— Jeonghan and Jun.

Their absence was a wound they all felt deeply, but tonight wasn’t about sadness. It was about showing the world their strength, even if incomplete. And for Luna, it was about showing Jeonghan how proud she was, knowing he was somewhere out there watching.

With a deep breath, they all chanted their group cheer, voices blending into one. The sound reverberated through the room, filling Luna’s chest with warmth and grounding her. As the cheer faded, they broke apart, nodding to each other with a shared understanding.

This was it.

Luna’s heart thudded in her chest as she took her position on the platform behind the massive LED screen with the rest of the members. Her palms were slightly sweaty, and she wiped them discreetly against the fabric of her stage outfit.

The seconds ticked by slowly, anticipation building in the air like a coiled spring. She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath to center herself, repeating the mantra that always ran through her mind before the lights hit her face. She exhaled slowly, feeling the jittery energy settle into something more controlled, more focused.

When her eyes opened again, it was just in time to see the LED screen in front of them begin to part.

The roaring of the crowd outside, though slightly muffled by her in-ear monitor, was deafening. It was like standing at the edge of a storm, the rumble of thousands of voices merging into one wild, electric sound.

The adrenaline that rushed through her veins was immediate, like a shock to her system, awakening every nerve in her body. Luna could feel it pumping in time with the beat of the song, ‘Fear,’ which began to pulse through her ears.

As the screen fully opened, revealing the stage in all its glory. The noise of the crowd swelled even louder, crashing into them like a tidal wave, but the music in her in-ear monitor kept her grounded. She felt the thrum of the bass vibrate through her body, each beat synchronizing with her racing heart.

From the very first note of ‘Fear,’ Luna was on. Her movements were sharp, and precise, every step of the choreography drilled into her muscles through hours of practice.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins made everything feel sharper, more intense— the rush of the performance intoxicating. She was alive in a way that nothing else in the world could make her feel. Every sway of her hips, every lift of her arm, and every spin was executed with flawless precision. The music was in her bones, and the choreography felt like second nature, her body flowing effortlessly from one move to the next.

Luna’s eyes found the cameras, her expression shifting into the sultry, fierce gaze she knew the fans loved. Each camera angle was met with purpose— a glance, a smirk, a fleeting look that would send their fans into a frenzy. She could feel their energy, their excitement feeding into her own, and it made her perform even harder, even better.

The members around her were just as immersed in the performance. They moved as one, the choreography flawless, their presence commanding.

They were SEVENTEEN, a unit, even when parts of them were miles away.

As ��Fear’ bled into ‘Fearless,’ the energy only amplified. The transitions were seamless, Luna’s voice strong and clear as she hit each note with power. Her voice was steady through her in-ear monitor, and she felt the music vibrate through every fiber of her being.

She lived for this— the lights, the stage, the connection with the audience. There was nothing quite like the feeling of performing, the way the adrenaline and music melded together into one euphoric experience.

With every song, every movement, the crowd grew louder, their energy mixing with her own. She craved it, thrived on it. It fueled her, pushing her to give more, to hit each move harder, to sing with more passion.

By the time ‘Maestro’ started, the third song in their opening set, Luna was fully in the zone. Her body moved on pure muscle memory, her vocals strong as they rang through the arena. She nailed every single move, every single note.

And through it all, she couldn’t help but give a little more, and perform with just a bit more intensity. Because tonight wasn’t just for her.

Tonight, she knew Jeonghan was watching. He was out there somewhere in the sea of fans, his eyes on her, and that knowledge made her push herself to give a hundred and one percent.

This is for you, she thought, her heart swelling with pride and love.

Every move, every note— it’s for you.

As the third song, ‘Maestro,’ came to an electrifying end, Luna and the rest of the members made their way to the front of the stage. The adrenaline still coursing through her veins was a heady mixture of euphoria and exhilaration. She could feel the sweat cooling on her skin beneath the stage lights, the pounding in her chest mirroring the thrumming energy of the arena.

The fans were screaming louder than ever, their voices a roaring tidal wave that seemed to rise and crash over the stage, swallowing the entire stadium in a sea of sound.

The members, still catching their breath from the performance, began to line up. Each of them took turns stepping forward for the opening ment, one after another, introducing themselves as a team and sharing their thoughts with the audience.

Luna stood among them, her eyes sweeping across the ocean of Carats before her. The crowd was vast— thousands of faces, all illuminated by lightsticks glowing in the stadium. It was a breathtaking sight, a reminder of just how far they’d come together.

As the other members took turns speaking, Luna allowed herself a small smile. She could feel the weight of the moment, how special it was to open this tour in Goyang. But there was something more than just excitement for the concert tonight— there was a warmth blooming in her chest, something that had taken root the moment she found out Jeonghan was somewhere in attendance watching.

For the first time in weeks, the emptiness she’d been carrying around wasn’t so heavy anymore.

Her gaze flicked back to the crowd as she waited for her turn to speak, her smile softening as she took it all in. The fans, some waving banners with her name, others dressed in shirts with her image printed on them, were giving all their energy back to her.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. These were the people who had supported her from the beginning, who had stood by her side through every high and low, and tonight was as much for them as it was for her and the members.

But before Luna could fully lose herself in her thoughts, the sound of the fans’ screams hit her ears, sharper and louder than before.

Startled, she blinked and realized her face had just been projected onto the enormous LED screen behind them. Her in-ear monitor had been removed earlier, so she heard the screams in all their full, raw intensity. It echoed through the arena, sending a surge of energy back into her, and she felt a slight flutter of amusement as she noticed the reaction of the crowd.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this reaction— the mixture of screams and disbelief. She was used to it by now, especially when her face appeared on the big screen, the high-definition clarity often making her look almost surreal as if she had been computer-generated. She had heard the fans joke about it countless times, calling her “too perfect” or “CGI” whenever she appeared like this.

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyes locking with the camera directly in front of her, playing into the reaction. The screams grew even louder as the fans realized she was looking straight at them, her expression one of playful mischief.

She lifted her mic to her mouth, ready to speak, but before she could even get a word out, another wave of deafening screams erupted, cutting her off completely.

At first, she wasn’t entirely sure why— until her eyes caught the glint of light reflecting off her left hand.

Her engagement ring, the huge diamond glittering under the stage lights, was now visible to everyone as she used that hand to hold up the mic.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, understanding immediately. Of course, they would react to that. This was the first time anyone had properly seen her wear the ring in public since the engagement news broke, and it was impossible to miss.

She waited patiently for the noise to die down, though her amusement was evident in the small laugh that escaped her lips. She raised her right hand slightly, signaling for the crowd to calm down. “Shh…” she hushed them playfully, the warmth of her tone making it impossible for the fans not to fall in love with her all over again. The stadium quieted, but just barely, the energy still crackling in the air.

“Hi, Carats!” Luna greeted brightly, her voice amplified through the speakers, instantly met with another round of enthusiastic cheers. Her smile widened as she continued, her heart swelling at the overwhelming response. “It’s your Luna.” She paused, letting the cheers wash over her again, feeling the adrenaline kick back into her veins.

“I’m so excited to be here with all of you tonight,” she continued her tone a mix of sincerity and excitement. Her eyes scanned the crowd again, drinking in the sight of all the fans who had come out to support them. “Opening the world tour in Goyang… It feels surreal.” She smiled, the sentiment clear in her voice. The fans responded with more cheers, their excitement palpable.

“I’ve missed you guys so much, and I’m so ready to make this an unforgettable night. Are you ready?”

The stadium erupted once more in response, and Luna’s heart soared. She knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be a night they would all remember for the rest of their lives.

Luna was just about to continue her ment, feeling the excitement of the crowd and the energy radiating from every corner of the arena, when the screams around her suddenly surged to a deafening level.

It was so loud that it sent a jolt through her, the vibration of thousands of voices hitting her like a wave. She blinked, momentarily stunned by the intensity, her lips parting in confusion as she glanced around.

“Why?” she mouthed silently, furrowing her brows as she looked down at the pit directly in front of the stage.

Her eyes scanned the faces of the fans closest to her, searching for any sign of what could be causing the commotion. But all she could see were the fans pointing wildly behind her, their faces alight with excitement and disbelief.

Before Luna could fully process what was happening, the members’ shouts reached her ears.

“Jeonghan-ah!” Seungcheol exclaimed, followed by Seungkwan and Dokyeom who chorused, “Jeonghan hyung!”

“Hyung!” echoed through the speakers, their voices overlapping in a mixture of excitement and joy.

Luna’s heart skipped a beat.

She turned so fast that her hair fanned out behind her, whipping around in the rush. Her eyes immediately flew to the massive LED screen behind her, and there, on the other side of the screen— clear as day— was Jeonghan.

Her Jeonghan.

He was sitting in the VIP box, slightly off to the side, his phone raised in front of him.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat when she realized what he was doing— he had been filming her. From the moment her ment started, Jeonghan had been recording, and even now, his phone was still pointed at her, capturing every second of her on the big screen for all to see.

A huge smile broke out across Luna’s face, uncontrollable and radiant. Her heart swelled, a mix of affection and disbelief flooding her chest.

Despite the face mask covering the lower half of his face, there was no mistaking it— it was him.

His presence was unmistakable, and the way he waved at the camera, greeting the fans with that familiar charm, made it all the more real.

The entire arena seemed to vibrate with excitement as Luna felt her emotions catch up with her. She could barely tear her eyes away from the screen, but when she did, her gaze found him in real life. Her eyes locked onto him, sitting in the VIP box at the top of the stadium, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

It may sound cliché but she fell in love all over again.

His simple, unwavering presence— here, in the middle of everything— was enough to make her heart race, and the love she felt for him deepened, filling every corner of her being.

Luna brought the mic to her lips, a laugh bubbling up in her throat as she shook her head. Without thinking, she playfully yelled, “Ya! Yoon Jeonghan!” Her voice came out as a half-whine, half-scream, making the members around her burst into laughter.

The fans, already whipped into a frenzy, screamed even louder at her words, the energy reaching a fever pitch. Luna grinned, unable to help herself, her laughter mixing with the cheers. The other members joined in, their amusement clear as they teased her.

“I miss you,” Luna added, her voice soft but clear over the speakers.

And that was it— absolute pandemonium.

The stadium exploded, the screams of the fans echoing through every corner of the arena, drowning out everything else. Luna couldn’t help but laugh again, the sheer magnitude of the moment hitting her all at once.

But it didn’t stop there.

Jeonghan, ever the showman, lifted his phone higher for everyone to see. The camera zoomed in on the LED screen, and the crowd collectively gasped.

Displayed on Jeonghan’s lock screen was a picture of Luna. Not just any picture— one from a date they had taken in Japan a few years ago, one of their private moments now shared with thousands.

The arena went absolutely insane, the noise level so high it almost shook the stage beneath their feet.

Luna’s face flushed bright red, her hand flying to her mouth in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment. She turned around quickly, facing the back of the stage, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The members around her were jumping up and down, laughing so hard they were barely standing still, their teasing relentless.

“Oh my god, Jeonghan hyung is such a romantic!”Seungkwan shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is that from your date?” Joshua teased, nudging Luna playfully.

“Jiyeonie noona is blushing!” Dino called out as he pointed at her making the others laugh even harder.

Luna turned back around, her face still flushed as she dared to peek at the big screen again. Jeonghan was still there, but now he was pointing at the picture on his phone, then at himself, and then he dramatically pointed at his cheek, a playful demand for a kiss.

The crowd went wild, the screams reaching an ear-piercing level as fans caught on to what he was asking for.

“I think he is asking for a kiss,” Seungkwan exclaimed, laughing.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, her heart racing with a mix of affection and embarrassment. She brought the mic up to her lips, still smiling as she faced Jeonghan’s side at the VIP box. “Alright, alright,” she said playfully, her voice ringing through the stadium.

Then, with exaggerated flair, she blew him a flying kiss, her hand gracefully sending it his way.

The moment her hand dropped, Jeonghan dramatically threw himself back into his seat, clutching his chest as if he had been struck by her kiss.

His playful reaction made the fans go even crazier, and the members around Luna erupted into laughter once again, their teasing and joy filling the stage.

“Look at him, he’s down!” Dokyeom shouted, pretending to fall over in mock imitation of Jeonghan.

“That’s it, he’s been hit!” Hoshi added, cackling.

Luna’s laughter was loud and genuine, her heart full to the brim as she watched Jeonghan’s antics. The fans, the members, and even she herself couldn’t stop laughing.

It was chaos, pure and beautiful chaos, the kind that made nights like these unforgettable.

After the playful chaos with Jeonghan finally settled, the rest of the members resumed their opening ments, their laughter slowly giving way to more composed introductions and heartfelt words for the audience.

Luna, still feeling the lingering warmth from Jeonghan’s surprise, smiled softly to herself as each member took turns speaking. The energy from the fans was infectious, their excitement palpable in the air, and Luna could feel it vibrating through her body as she stood there.

Her heart was full, and despite the adrenaline still pulsing in her veins, a sense of peace settled over her.

As the ments drew to a close, the lights dimmed once more, and the show continued. The familiar rhythm of concert life took over, and the intense but thrilling rush of performing for thousands blended with the organized chaos behind the scenes.

Luna, along with the rest of the members, darted backstage after each set, the heavy weight of sweat-soaked outfits quickly replaced with fresh, intricately designed costumes for the next round of performances. Staff swarmed them, deft hands touching up makeup, fixing stray hairs, and ensuring every detail was perfect for the next stage.

The transitions were fast and seamless, but it was a routine they all knew well. Even though their hearts were pounding from the intensity of the performances, there was an unspoken synchronization between them and the crew that made everything flow smoothly.

Hairdressers would gently direct Luna into place, powdering her face or dabbing at her forehead to control the sweat, while stylists adjusted her new outfit with quick but precise movements, pulling at seams, fastening zippers, and checking accessories.

All of it was part of the dance behind the curtain— a carefully orchestrated chaos that Luna thrived in.

She barely had time to think as they moved from one stage to the next, the brief moments of calm between sets filled with the hurried energy of preparation.

And yet, amidst the rush, Luna found small pockets of time to catch her breath. When there was a moment— perhaps while waiting for the final adjustments to her outfit, or in the seconds before they rushed back onstage— she would glance at her phone.

Jeonghan, ever the dork, had been texting her nonstop from his seat in the VIP box, live-commentating as though he weren’t right there watching the whole thing in person.

His messages were ridiculous but endearing, a constant stream of compliments and observations that made her smile even when she was exhausted.

Between texts about how she nailed a particular move or how amazing she looked in her current outfit, Luna found herself laughing under her breath. Jeonghan’s enthusiasm for her performances, even though he had seen her on stage countless times, never seemed to wane.

His words, no matter how silly or over-the-top, made her feel seen and calm— like she was the only person in the room, even though there were thousands watching her.

As the show progressed, Luna slipped into the rhythm of it all. Each costume change, each song, each interaction with the fans— it all blurred into a heady mixture of excitement, adrenaline, and joy.

But through it all, there was Jeonghan, his presence like a tether grounding her, even from afar. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she wasn’t looking in his direction. And whenever she had a spare moment to breathe backstage, she’d quickly type back a teasing reply, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words.

It was like any other concert in some ways— the fast pace, the never-ending flow of energy— but at the same time, it was different.

There was a lightness in her heart she hadn’t felt since Jeonghan left for his enlistment. His presence here, even just in the audience, brought her comfort in a way that made this concert feel special, as if this night was theirs alone, even in front of thousands.

As the concert reached its halfway mark, the energy in the arena surged once more as the opening notes of ‘Good to Me’ filled the space. The pulsating beat and rhythmic synths set the mood for the song, its sensual yet intense tone capturing the attention of everyone in the stadium.

Luna felt a thrill run through her as she got into position, preparing for her part. This song held a special significance tonight, more so than it ever had before.

This song in particular is about desire, about someone craving the presence and touch of someone else who is always good to them— both emotionally and physically. The lyrics were bold and full of passion, and every time they performed it, it felt like they were laying bare their emotions for all to see.

But tonight, for Luna, those lyrics held an even deeper meaning.

As the first verse unfolded, the members took turns with their lines, their movements synchronized and sharp, every gesture purposeful. The choreography was fluid, with a mix of subtle sensuality and power, perfectly matching the song’s intensity. When it was Luna’s turn to sing, her voice cut through the air, clear and confident.

“‘Cause you, you're my everything, we are a match. Cause you, you're my everyday, you also know it.’”

Her eyes drifted toward the VIP section, where she knew Jeonghan was watching. She sang the lyrics as if they were meant for him and him alone. Her gaze locked on the spot where he sat, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she poured every bit of emotion into the words.

“‘I need you, you need me. Cause you, you already know, everything is you, you.’”

The song spoke of someone whose presence was irresistible, someone who made everything feel right, even when things were difficult. And right now, Luna couldn’t help but direct those words to Jeonghan, who had been her rock, her constant source of support, even though he wasn’t physically by her side these days.

When Jeonghan’s usual part in the song came up, a brief instrumental break building the anticipation, Luna seamlessly took over his lines, her voice rich with emotion as she sang in his place.

“‘You did this once before, only by looking at your eyes I can tell, whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion.’”

She turned fully to where Jeonghan sat, her eyes sparkling under the stage lights as she sang to him, her voice softening slightly as though the thousands of fans didn’t exist at that moment.

It was just her and him.

She could feel the weight of her emotions bubbling up as she sang to him, every word wrapped in the longing she had felt since he left for his enlistment.

The lyrics— about someone being so good to her, about how everything about that person was perfect— took on a whole new meaning now.

It wasn’t just a song anymore; it was her heart speaking to Jeonghan.

As the chorus hit again, the music swelled, and Luna moved back into the choreography, her body syncing with the rest of the members as they danced with precision and grace. The lights flashed in rhythm, and she could hear the deafening screams of the fans, though the sound was muffled by her in-ear monitors. The energy was electric, but amidst the chaos, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, Jeonghan’s face appeared on the massive LED screen behind them, catching both Luna and the other members off guard. The audience roared in response, the sudden sight of him sending a wave of excitement through the arena.

He was watching Luna with that familiar, soft smile in his eyes, his phone held up to capture the moment as if he couldn’t get enough of watching her perform.

Luna’s breath hitched for a split second, but then a smile broke across her face. She couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to sing, her movements a bit more playful now as she pointed toward the screen where Jeonghan’s face loomed above them all. The rest of the members joined in on the fun, laughing and teasing her as they danced and sang around her, clearly enjoying the moment as much as the fans were.

The fans, who were already losing their minds, screamed even louder when they realized Jeonghan was watching his fiancée with such open admiration. Luna playfully rolled her eyes, her heart swelling as she continued to sing and dance, now with a renewed sense of joy.

For a few seconds, it felt like everything in the world was perfect. Jeonghan, despite not being on stage, was still a part of the performance in his own way, and the fact that Luna had been dedicating this song to him all along made it even sweeter. She twirled with the rhythm, her body moving effortlessly through the steps as she threw a playful glance at where Jeonghan sat.

And for that brief moment, as she danced and sang her heart out, Luna felt like the distance between them was nothing. It was as if he were right there with her on stage, sharing the spotlight.

As the final notes of ‘Good to Me’ faded out, Luna couldn’t help but glance once more toward the VIP section, her heart fluttering as she thought of him watching her.

The lights dimmed on stage as the last notes of their set echoed throughout the arena. With a collective breath, the members hurried off the stage, rushing toward the backstage area in their usual post-performance frenzy.

It was the familiar chaos of concerts: stylists, makeup artists, and hair stylists all buzzing around, ready to get them prepped for the next set. Luna felt the residual adrenaline in her veins, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. The fan in front of her chair whirred softly, its cool breeze hitting her flushed face as she sipped from her water bottle.

Her body was still buzzing with energy from their performance, her skin damp from sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her temples. She sat in front of the mirror in her chair, eyes half-closed, her hands limp at her sides as multiple people fussed over her.

One person gently dabbed at her face with a sponge, touching up her makeup, while another tugged at her hair, fixing strands that had come loose during their vigorous dancing. Luna sat still, letting them work, only opening her eyes every now and then to check her reflection, making sure everything was back in place.

Her breathing was finally starting to slow down, the pounding of her heart calming after the rush of the performance. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the vanity in front of her, watching the reflection of her teammates in the mirrors around her as they too got their touch-ups.

The room was alive with activity, the noise of the concert still a faint echo from the stage outside.

But just as she was gathering herself for the next half of the show, a few crew members came in, a noticeable tension in their steps. Luna straightened slightly in her seat as one of them approached Seungcheol, the leader, with a serious expression.

“There’s been a small fire on stage,” the crew member announced, causing the entire room to fall silent. Luna’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening in shock as she quickly glanced at the other members.

Everyone froze for a second, processing what they had just heard.

A fire?

Before any of them could react, the crew member quickly continued, raising his hands to reassure them. “It’s nothing major! Just a light fixture caught fire, but the staff is already handling it.”

Relief washed over the room, but the air still felt tense. Questions were thrown around in rapid succession, the members’ voices overlapping as they expressed their concerns.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Is everything under control?”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Can we still continue the show?”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

Seungcheol, ever the responsible leader, was busy talking to the staff, his voice low but firm as he tried to get more details.

Luna, though still a little shaken by the news, stood up from her chair, adjusting her sleeves as she walked over to where the rest of the members were gathered. Her concern mirrored theirs, but the crew assured them that the situation was being managed.

“We’ll need to delay the show for a few minutes while we make sure everything is safe before you can continue,” another crew member explained, and Luna could feel the unease in the room settle somewhat.

The staff’s confidence was reassuring, but the worry for the fans still lingered.

Luna stood near the center of the group, her fingers absentmindedly fixing the cuffs of her outfit as they all discussed the situation. “As long as everyone is fine and no one is hurt–” she began, her voice steady despite the worry she felt.

But before she could finish her sentence, something felt… off.

The room grew a little quieter, and she noticed some of the members stifling laughter. Seungkwan was biting his lip, trying not to give anything away, while Minghao’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he watched something— or someone— behind her.

Confused, Luna paused, looking down at her sleeves as she fiddled with the fabric. She didn’t notice the figure that had quietly slipped into the room behind her, moving with the practiced stealth that only one person could pull off.

Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from beside her, its gentle tone making her heart skip a beat, though she was so used to it, that she didn’t even question it at first.

“Everyone is fine,” the voice said smoothly, almost casually. “The staff are handling it.”

Without even glancing up, Luna nodded, completely absentminded. “That’s good,” she murmured, still focused on adjusting her outfit.

The members erupted into laughter from in front of her, and that’s when it hit her.

Wait… that voice.

Her hands froze mid-adjustment. Slowly, Luna’s eyes widened, and she turned her head to the side, not fully registering what had just happened. But when she finally looked to her left and saw who was standing next to her, she did a double take, her breath catching in her throat.

“Hannie?!”

Jeonghan stood there, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his eyes, his face partially hidden behind a mask but unmistakable to her.

She barely had time to process it before a squeal of delight escaped her lips, and without thinking, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her just as tightly. “You really didn’t notice me until now?” he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

Luna only buried her face into his chest, her heart pounding with a mixture of surprise and overwhelming happiness. “I— how are you—?” she stammered, her voice muffled against him.

He pulled his mask down slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to the temple of her head, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck gently. “Just wanted to make sure you guys are alright,” he whispered, laughing softly against her hair.

The rest of the members, still watching with wide smiles, couldn’t help but laugh at her delayed reaction.

“We are alright by the way. Thank you for asking!” Seungkwan said sarcastically considering all Jeonghan’s focus was on Luna.

“Seriously, no one’s that used to someone’s voice,” Hoshi added, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Luna pulled back just enough to look up at Jeonghan, still holding onto him as her laughter bubbled out. She swatted at his chest playfully. “You sneak!”

Jeonghan grinned down at her, his arms not letting her go just yet. “You should know by now I love surprising you.”

And despite the chaos of the moment, despite the earlier worry about the fire, Luna couldn’t stop smiling. Being in his arms, surrounded by her members, with the concert still buzzing around them— it was perfect.

Even in the most unexpected of circumstances, with a fire delay and a surprise visit, everything felt right.

Jeonghan stayed with them for what felt like the briefest twenty minutes of Luna’s life, though time itself seemed to stretch and bend while he was by her side.

From the moment he appeared behind her, she felt his presence like an anchor, grounding her amidst the bustle of their delayed concert.

Jeonghan hadn’t let go of her once, keeping her close, his hands never straying far from her skin. The warmth of his touch lingered in every kiss he pressed— soft and tender against her forehead, her temple, the nook of her neck, the curve of her cheek, and even the subtle brush of his lips against her own when the others weren’t watching too closely.

His affection was quiet but ever-present, each kiss a reminder of how much they had missed each other.

It felt like he was memorizing her in those fleeting moments as if they were sneaking time in their usual bubble despite the chaos around them.

When his lips found the back of her hand, her engagement ring cool beneath his touch, Luna’s heart swelled. He had always been tactile with her, but tonight, it felt like every kiss, every touch held extra weight. Each one was a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through together— of how much they meant to one another, of how much he wished he could be with her on that stage.

The rest of the members let them have their quiet reunion without interruption. They continued chatting with Jeonghan, catching up on things, but they gave the couple their space. Despite being surrounded by people, the world felt small and intimate, just for them.

But twenty minutes was never enough.

Eventually, the crew came back to inform them that everything was under control, and the stage had been cleared. The fire was contained and minor— no one had been hurt, and nothing had escalated.

The relief that washed over Luna was palpable, though it was bittersweet because it meant Jeonghan would have to go back to his seat.

She hadn’t wanted to let him go, but as she watched him flash her a reassuring smile, she knew he would be watching, cheering her on just like before. He pressed one final kiss on her lips, his hand lingering on hers for a brief moment before he slipped out of the room.

The twenty-minute delay had passed like a blink, and though they were slightly behind schedule, none of the members seemed to care. They were just grateful that the situation hadn’t spiraled into something worse.

Once they were cleared to go, the members gathered themselves, adjusting their outfits and shaking off any lingering tension.

The fire was a hiccup, but the show had to go on.

And it did— seamlessly.

As they returned to the stage, the energy from the fans was as vibrant as ever. Jeonghan had taken his seat again, watching from his place in the audience, and Luna couldn’t help but glance in his direction, feeling that familiar spark knowing he was there, watching her. She felt renewed, the anxiety from earlier gone as they launched into their next set.

Song after song, they poured everything they had into their performances. The members danced and sang with such passion, interacting with the fans and throwing themselves into their signature antics.

It wasn’t a SEVENTEEN show without a few hilarious, chaotic moments, and despite the earlier scare, they didn’t hold back. The fans were relieved that everything had been handled, roared with approval, feeding off the energy the group gave.

Of course, there were jokes about the fire.

Some of the members couldn’t resist cracking a few light-hearted comments, saying the fire had only started because their performances were just that hot. Seungkwan, Hoshi, and even Dokyeom threw in their quips, teasing that the stage couldn’t handle their intensity, eliciting more laughter from the crowd.

The fans ate it up, cheering and laughing as the members played off the unexpected situation with ease.

And in the middle of it all, Luna found herself back in her element. The slight delay faded into the background as the show flowed effortlessly from one set to the next. She moved with the music, her voice blending with the others, her body moving in sync with the choreography she knew so well.

Every now and then, she’d sneak another glance toward Jeonghan, catching his gaze even from afar, feeling that unspoken connection between them.

As the night wore on, the setlist began to wind down. They’d gone from high-energy songs to their slower, more emotional tracks, each moment imbued with meaning. The atmosphere in the arena shifted as the fans realized they were nearing the end of the show.

Before they knew it, they were standing on the stage, looking out at the sea of fans, about to perform their final song for the night. Luna’s chest tightened with emotion, a mix of pride and awe at what they had accomplished.

The first night of their world tour was coming to a close, and it had been everything they’d hoped for— despite the unexpected bumps along the way.

As the final notes played, Luna felt the bittersweetness of the moment sink in.

The first day of their tour was over.

But it was only the beginning.

The moment Luna stepped behind the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears, but the rush of adrenaline hadn’t yet settled. It thrummed beneath her skin, buzzing like static as their crew and staff cheered loudly, creating a vibrant wall of sound that filled the backstage area.

Members of the team, the staff, and the crew clapped for them, congratulating them on a successful opening night, their faces beaming with pride. Several cameras followed their every move, capturing the behind-the-scenes footage that would later be used for DVDs and special releases for the fans, a memory to be immortalized.

Hoshi and Mingyu were already talking to one of the cameras, playfully waving and making exaggerated poses, their faces red from exertion but their spirits sky-high. The others mingled around, some talking to the crew, others exchanging breathless laughs as they tried to steady their breathing after the intense finale.

But Luna’s mind wasn’t on the cameras, the chaos of the crew, or the noise swirling around them. Her eyes, sharp and singular in their focus, found him immediately.

Jeonghan was standing just beyond the cluster of people, waiting for them— and more specifically, waiting for her.

He had removed his mask, revealing the full brilliance of his smile, and her heart fluttered at the sight. It was the same smile that had always undone her. The same smile that now, five years into their relationship and officially out in the open, still made her feel like she was falling in love all over again.

Luna’s body reacted before her mind fully registered the thought, and before she knew it, she was running. Bolting, really— her legs carrying her with the kind of speed she reserved for the stage, for the most high-energy moments of a performance.

But this? This was pure, uncontainable emotion.

The excitement of seeing him again, of having him waiting for her so openly, so proudly, after everything they’d been through.

She was running toward her home.

And the fans in the nearby seats could see it all.

The backstage area was still partially exposed to the arena, especially the seats that stretched upward, giving some fans a perfect vantage point. As Luna dashed across the back, the fans who could see her immediately erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a frenzy.

Pandemonium broke out as the realization hit that she was running straight into Jeonghan’s arms. The fans screamed, some pulling out their phones, others clutching their chests as they watched the scene unfold like something out of a drama. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the collective gasp of thousands witnessing the moment.

Jeonghan, waiting with that same easy smile, braced himself just as Luna crashed into him. His arms wrapped around her waist with ease, and with a gentle laugh, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her around effortlessly. Luna’s giggle was light and carefree, the kind of sound that made everything else melt away.

It was just him.

Just her.

Just them.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

The moment her feet touched the ground, Luna’s hands came up instinctively, cupping his face as if grounding herself in the reality of his presence. She felt the familiar warmth of his skin beneath her palms, the softness of his hair brushing against her fingers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

But Jeonghan, always one step ahead, beat her to it. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, unhurried, filled with the quiet certainty of their love.

Despite the madness surrounding them— the cameras, the crew, the fans, and even the members throwing cheeky glances and comments their way— none of it mattered.

In that moment, it was only the two of them.

Every kiss still felt like it held new meaning— like they were discovering parts of each other they hadn’t yet explored, even after all this time.

The fans were screaming louder now, their cheers mixing with the laughter of their members, who were already teasing them for being so openly affectionate. “Scandalous!” Hoshi's voice echoed in the distance, followed by Dino’s exaggerated gasp, and the others quickly joined in with their own jokes. Seungcheol shook his head, a playful smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to keep the group in line.

But neither Luna nor Jeonghan cared.

They had stopped caring about the opinions of others the moment their relationship became public.

After years of hiding, of sneaking around, and stealing moments where they could, this openness felt like freedom.

No more disguises.

No more secrets.

Just them, unashamedly in love in front of everyone who cared to watch.

Jeonghan pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against her forehead, then her temple, as if sealing the moment with small, lingering kisses. Luna’s heart swelled in her chest, a smile tugging at her lips as she rested her head against his chest for a brief second, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Around them, the world buzzed with excitement, but in his arms, it felt like peace. The cameras kept rolling, capturing every second of the moment, and the fans continued to scream, but none of it mattered.

It was just the two of them, lost in each other, in a love that had weathered time, distance, and now, the scrutiny of the world.

The members laughed louder at the display, throwing more jokes in their direction, but Luna and Jeonghan simply smiled at one another, content in the knowledge that they no longer had anything to hide.

This was their world now, and they were living it fully, unapologetically.

Luna’s bubble of peace with Jeonghan was suddenly burst when Seungkwan’s voice cut through the noise of the backstage area, dripping with exaggerated sarcasm and mock disgust. “We get it, you two love each other, knock it off!”

Jeonghan’s deep, melodic laugh rang out instantly, and Luna couldn’t help but join in, feeling the warmth of their private moment turning into something shared, something lighthearted. The laughter of their teammates blended into the air, creating a symphony of joy around them.

Jeonghan gently parted from her, his hand grazing hers one last time before he turned, arms wide, playfully chasing after Seungkwan with a mischievous grin.

“Seungkwanie,” Jeonghan cooed dramatically, dragging out his name in a sing-song voice, his playful nature in full force.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as he pretended to scramble away, but it was too late. Jeonghan easily caught up with him, enveloping him in an exaggerated bear hug, both of them stumbling as Jeonghan swayed them from side to side like a father holding a child. Seungkwan groaned in mock suffering but couldn’t stop the smile breaking across his face.

“Why am I always the target of your love?” Seungkwan whined, though his arms returned the hug before half-heartedly trying to push Jeonghan away. “Can’t you just keep your affection for noona?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t dedicate a whole essay for me on Weverse on my birthday,” Jeonghan grinned and ruffled Seungkwan’s hair before finally releasing him, earning a playful shove in return from Seungkwan who pouted, “Shut it.”

“I have so much love to give, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan replied, still laughing.

As the playful banter continued, the group naturally gravitated toward the corridor that led back to their designated waiting room. Conversations and laughter littered the halls, filling the air as they walked, their energy still high from the concert.

It felt like any other day like Jeonghan had never been gone at all, like they hadn’t just gone weeks without his presence on stage or in their daily lives.

Luna found herself walking a few steps behind the group, watching with a smile that spread wide across her face.

It was surreal— Jeonghan, back with them, laughing and joking like no time had passed. For a brief moment, she let herself forget the reality of his military service, letting herself imagine that everything was normal again.

That he had never left and that he would be with them for the rest of the tour.

But as happy as she was to have him back, even if just for tonight, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart.

It wasn’t quite complete. Not without Jun.

She wished he were here with them, completing their chaotic group and filling the room with his quiet but steady presence. With Jeonghan and Jun both gone, it was like a piece of their family was missing. She sighed softly, letting the feeling pass as she reminded herself that Jun would be back soon, too.

It was only a matter of time.

By the time they reached their waiting room, the atmosphere was buzzing with the same energy they carried off the stage.

The room was filled with the familiar sounds of SEVENTEEN— playful banter, teasing remarks, and laughter that echoed off the walls. They were still riding the high of the successful opening night, adrenaline pumping as they began to peel off their performance outfits and transition into their more comfortable clothes.

Some of the members were already seated, pulling off stage shoes with tired groans of relief while others started removing their makeup, faces still flushed from the heat of the stage. The air was thick exhaustion but it was home.

It was the usual post-concert chaos— everyone talking over each other, recounting moments from the show, poking fun at any small mistakes they made during their sets.

Hoshi was standing in front of the mirror, dramatically wiping off his makeup with a makeup wipe. “The energy was insane. I can go another round— I was born for this, you know?” he declared, his voice full of mock drama, earning a round of eye rolls and amused chuckles from the members who are used to Hoshi’s energy.

Luna couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her as she leaned back into her chair, watching the usual antics unfold around her. Even after years together, the energy in the room was always electric post-concert.

No matter how tired they were, there was something about that post-show buzz that brought out the best— and the most ridiculous— parts of them.

Her gaze drifted to Jeonghan, who was now sitting on the arm of one of the couches, his hair slightly tousled from their earlier reunion. He was watching the members with a soft smile on his face, occasionally throwing in a comment here and there, but mostly content to just soak in the atmosphere.

He caught her looking and flashed her a wink, and her heart did a little flip. She smiled back, warmth flooding her chest. Moments like this were what she cherished most— the simplicity of being together, the feeling of family, of belonging.

The noise around her continued, a comforting, chaotic background to her thoughts as she settled back, letting herself enjoy the moment.

This was what she loved— being surrounded by people she cared about, performing with them, and knowing that despite everything, they would always find their way back to each other.

As she sat there, letting the laughter wash over her, she couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for her members, for their fans, and for moments like this— where everything felt perfect, even if it was just for a little while.

Luna leaned back in her chair, sighing softly with contentment. The concert had gone well, their first night was a success, and even with the unexpected fire, they’d managed to pull through together.

Unbeknownst to her, Jeonghan’s gaze had been fixed on her for several moments now, watching her quietly from his seat. He had a way of seeing her, really seeing her, even when she was lost in her own thoughts. His heart warmed at the sight of her— a mix of strength and softness, glowing in the afterglow of their performance.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up from his spot, his movements so smooth and silent that no one noticed as he crossed the room toward her. He gently caressed her arm, his touch soft and familiar.

Luna glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. There were no questions in her eyes, just trust. Without needing to say anything, she let him guide her to a more secluded corner of the room, away from the others, away from the bustling noise of post-concert excitement.

Jeonghan turned toward her, a soft smile lighting up his face as he gazed down at her. “Hey,” he said, his voice a warm melody that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hi,” Luna smiled back, her voice soft, and without hesitation, their hands found each other, fingers naturally intertwining.

The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them again, wrapped in their bubble of comfort and affection.

Jeonghan’s hand rose to her face, gently brushing a few strands of hair away. His fingers lightly traced her cheek as his thumb caressed her skin, his touch tender and careful, as if she were something delicate.

“You did such a good job earlier,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing, the tone that always made her knees feel weak. His fingers continued to brush over her cheek, and then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing soft kisses to the back of her hand, one after the other. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his lips now grazing the tips of her fingers, sending little jolts of warmth through her.

Luna felt her breath hitch slightly, the wall behind her suddenly a blessing as it was the only thing keeping her steady.

Jeonghan’s soft, gentle tone— this was her weakness and he knew this. She tried to compose herself, but the way he doted on her, the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe, made it difficult to remain standing.

“I loved it,” Luna finally managed, her voice a little breathless, eyes locked on his.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued his gentle teasing. “You were amazing out there. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— you always are.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip, and her heart fluttered in response.

Luna’s lips parted slightly at his touch, her usual assertive demeanor slipping away in the face of his gentle cooing. “Stop, you’re making me blush,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Blushing suits you,” Jeonghan teased, leaning down slightly until his forehead nearly touched hers. His lips ghosted over the tip of her nose as he continued to murmur, “I missed seeing you like this, Nana-ya.”

Luna’s cheeks burned with warmth, and she let out a soft laugh, tilting her head back against the wall. “You’re the only reason why I am like this.”

“Good,” he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. His thumb brushed her cheek again, his other hand lifting her left hand to his lips once more. He kissed each of her fingers, his lips lingering a bit longer this time, his gaze never leaving hers.

She could feel the butterflies swirling in her stomach, her mind spinning under his gaze.

Then, just as naturally as ever, Jeonghan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. It was sleek, the kind that made Luna’s breath catch in her throat. Without a word, he placed it in her hand, his expression soft but serious.

Luna stared at the box for a moment, her heart racing. She pouted up at him, curiosity and a hint of confusion in her eyes. “What is this?” she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

Jeonghan’s smile softened, his eyes growing tender as he spoke. “I’ll be watching the show again tomorrow but you know I won’t be able to watch every single one, right? I won’t be able to travel outside the country either,” he began, his voice gentle, knowing how sensitive this topic was for her.

Luna’s heart clenched at his words. She knew this reality all too well. He wouldn’t always be with them, with her, during the tour. It was a thought that had lingered in the back of her mind all night.

As she opened the box, her breath caught again. Inside was a delicate gold band bracelet. Simple, elegant, and timeless— just like him. Luna took it out carefully, holding it in her palm, and that’s when she noticed the engraving.

Her heart swelled as she read the words etched into the gold:

Breathe. It’s just you and me. Nothing else.

Jeonghan’s forehead was suddenly pressed against hers, their shared ritual grounding her, just like it always had. He took the bracelet from her hand, slipping it around her left wrist, fastening it carefully as though it were the most precious thing in the world. “This is so you won’t forget our words to each other,” he whispered.

Luna’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked up at him, her lips trembling into a pout. “Hannie…” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t cry,” Jeonghan cooed softly, pulling back just enough to press a tender kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there before he pulled away and lifted the sleeve of his own jacket. “Look,” he said, showing her his own matching bracelet. “We match.”

Luna sniffled and pushed at his chest playfully, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re always the reason for my tears, you know that right?” she huffed, though her smile betrayed her true feelings.

Jeonghan chuckled, his laugh low and rich. “I know,” he teased, “You just love me so much.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile. “When did you even have the time to do this?” she asked, glancing down at the bracelet again, admiring the way the light reflected off the gold.

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he winked at her. “I have all the time in the world when it comes to you.”

Luna let out a scoff of disbelief, a laugh escaping her lips. “You’ve gotten cheesier.”

Jeonghan smirked, his retort quick and cool. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile as she lightly tapped his chest. “You know, I used to think you were all serious and mysterious,” she teased, her voice light and full of amusement. “Turns out, you’re just a huge softie.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his arms winding back around her waist, pulling her closer as he leaned down. “A softie? Is that what I am?” His voice was low, teasing, with that familiar silky tone that always sent a rush of warmth through her. “Well, I’m only like this because I have you to be soft for.”

Luna felt her cheeks heat up again, but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Jeonghan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “And you’re lucky I can’t resist you.” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes sparkling with affection. “I mean, look at you,” he continued, his voice soft and tender now. “How could I not be completely wrapped around your finger? You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Luna’s heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone making her pulse quicken. She tried to compose herself, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I think I have some idea,” she replied, her voice softening as she met his gaze head-on.

Jeonghan laughed, that light, airy sound that always made her chest feel lighter. “You think?” he teased, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You know you’re everything to me, right?”

Luna’s breath caught at the sudden tenderness in his words. She could feel her heart swelling in her chest, the emotion almost overwhelming. “Han…” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in the softest of touches. “No, really,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t say it enough, but you’re my everything, Jiyeon. No matter where I am, or what’s going on, you’re always on my mind.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally, her lips. It was soft, gentle, full of love and warmth. “You make everything better.”

Luna closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips on hers, the warmth of his touch, the security of his presence. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she murmured when they pulled apart. Her voice was quiet, but filled with so much emotion it nearly cracked. “Especially now… with everything going on.”

Jeonghan nodded, understanding. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “I know it’s been hard. But I promise you, we’re going to get through it. Even if I can’t be with you every step of the way, I’m still with you.” He took her hand again, lifting it to his lips and kissing her knuckles one by one. “Always.”

Luna’s heart swelled, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, though she blinked them away. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of love.

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, then the bracelet, before looking back up at her. “And I will. Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be with you. This…” He gestured to the bracelet, then to his matching one. “This is just a reminder. You and me. Nothing else.”

“Just us. Nothing else.” Luna stared at him, her heart so full she thought it might burst. She couldn’t hold back anymore— couldn’t stop the overwhelming wave of love that washed over her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “So much.”

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around her in return, his embrace warm and steady, his lips pressing into her hair. “I love you too, my pretty moon,” he murmured against her, his voice soft and filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his hand cupping her face again. “More than anything.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of love and warmth. Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, slow and full of meaning. When they finally pulled away, Luna couldn’t help the small, content smile that spread across her face.

Jeonghan grinned, his thumb brushing her cheek again. “You’re mine, you know that?” he teased, though there was a soft sincerity behind his words.

Luna laughed softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’ve always been yours.”

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her one more time, a smile still on his lips. “And I’ll always be yours.”

He held Luna’s hands tighter, his gaze steady and full of love. “When I finish my service,” he whispered, his voice soft but resolute, “I’m going to marry you. No more waiting, no more delays. I promise.”

Luna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling at his words. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and whispered back, “I’ll be waiting, Hannie. Always.”

At that moment, it was just the two of them again.

Just like Luna’s first monthly evaluation as a trainee… it was just them.

Wrapped up in their little world, their bubble, where nothing else mattered.

It felt as if time had stopped, and for that brief space in time, there was no concert, no cameras, no members.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Just them, as it had always been, and as it always would be.

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[yvesssssssss]

HIII hope you’re doing great ^^ i have a request with nagumo shin natsuki and heisuke dating a kind and cute girl AND their families (idk like sakamoto, mafuyu etcetc) want to meet her and they are testing her even if she’s really kind

I love this idea so much!! I had a lot of fun writing it, but honestly, I wasn’t completely satisfied with how it turned out—so I really hope you like it! Let me know if you want any changes!

You knew dating an assassin came with challenges, but apparently, the real test was dealing with their protective families.

And today? Today, you were being evaluated.

Nagumo yoichi

I sat beside Yoichi, hands neatly folded in my lap, smiling politely despite the heavy tension in the air. Across from us, Rion Akao paced back and forth, eyes sharp as she studied me like I was a suspect in a murder case.

Taro Sakamoto sat beside her, arms crossed, unreadable as ever.

“So,” Rion finally spoke, stopping in front of me, “you’re really dating this guy?” She jabbed a finger at Yoichi, who waved lazily, grinning.

I nodded. “Mhm! Yoichi is really sweet, you know?”

Rion scoffed so hard it was almost a laugh. She turned to Sakamoto. “Did she just say something insane?”

Sakamoto let out a deep sigh.

“I mean it!” I said earnestly. “He always remembers my favorite snacks, holds my hand when I’m nervous, and—oh! One time, I was feeling down, and he spent hours making me a really cute origami bouquet!”

Nagumo smirked. “You see? I’m a romantic.”

Rion narrowed her eyes. “You’re a liar.”

I blinked. “No, he really did that.”

“He did that to mess with your head.”

I tilted my head. “But… it worked. I felt better.”

Rion groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re too nice.”

Sakamoto finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Nagumo’s dangerous. If you’re with him, you’ll be in danger too.”

I met his gaze and nodded. “I know.”

Rion’s pacing stopped.

“Okay then,” she said slowly. “Prove it.”

Nagumo sighed. “Oh my god, you guys.”

Rion ignored him. “Let’s say Nagumo gets captured and tortured for intel. What do you do?”

I tilted my head. “Oh, I trust him. I’m sure he wouldn’t get captured.”

The room went silent.

Rion blinked at me. “…What?”

I smiled. “It’s Yoichi. If someone tried to capture him, he’d either talk his way out of it, escape before it even happened, or trick them into thinking they were the ones caught.”

Nagumo grinned. “See? She gets me.”

Rion groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my god, you’re delusional.”

Sakamoto, however, nodded slightly, as if he actually agreed with me.

“But,” I continued, “if by some impossible chance he did get captured, I’d find him and take him back.”

Rion squinted. “And if I was the one who took him?”

I smiled sweetly. “Then I’d negotiate first… and if that didn’t work, I’d take him back by force.”

Nagumo let out a low whistle. “See? Perfect.”

Rion muttered something under her breath. “…Alright, maybe you’re not as helpless as I thought.”

She crossed her arms, eyeing me up and down. “Next question. What’s the worst thing about Nagumo?”

I thought for a moment. “…Oh, that’s easy! He’s always teasing people.”

Rion huffed. “That’s the best thing you could come up with?”

“Well, I like everything else about him.”

Nagumo placed a hand over his heart. “I might cry.”

“Shut up,” Rion and Sakamoto said in unison.

Rion sighed. “Alright. Final test.”

Sakamoto pulled out a knife and slid it across the table. “If Nagumo ever betrays you, would you be able to kill him?”

The air shifted.

I picked up the knife, holding it delicately.

Nagumo watched me, relaxed as always. I met his gaze.

Then I smiled. “I trust Yoichi. If he betrayed me, he’d have a very good reason.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Rion scoffed. “So you wouldn’t kill him?”

I tilted my head. “If he truly betrayed me… then yes, I could.”

Nagumo smirked. “She is perfect.”

Sakamoto nodded approvingly. Rion still looked suspicious, but she finally leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

“…Fine. I still think you could do better,” she muttered. “But you’re not an idiot. I respect that.”

I beamed. “Thank you!”

Rion sighed, rubbing her temples. “Whatever. You’re stuck with him now, so good luck.”

Nagumo grabbed my hand. “See? Told you they’d love you.”

Rion threw a knife at his head.

Nagumo dodged, still smirking. “Ah, classic Rion.”

Shin Asakura

Shin was nervous. Very nervous.

“Are you okay?” you asked, holding his hand as you both stood in front of the Sakamoto household.

“No,” Shin said immediately. “Lu’s involved in this, which means chaos. Hana’s unpredictable. And Sakamoto—” He inhaled. “He knows everything I’m thinking.”

The door swung open before he could knock.

Lu grinned. “You’re late.”

“We weren’t given a time—” Shin tried, but she pulled you inside.

The first test was immediate.

Hana stood in front of you, holding up a picture she very clearly drew herself. “If you don’t say my art is amazing, I’m kicking you out.”

You beamed. “This is beautiful, Hana-chan! The colors are so lively, and I can tell you put a lot of effort into it!”

Hana squinted at you. Then turned to Shin. “She’s either really nice or a liar.”

Lu leaned in. “Would you fight someone for Shin?”

You smiled softly. “I don’t like violence. But if someone tried to hurt him, I’d protect him with everything I have.”

Lu whistled. “Oh, she’s dangerous. I like her.”

Finally, Sakamoto sat across from you, silently watching.

Shin tensed. “Boss, please don’t make this scary—”

Sakamoto leaned back, satisfied. “You’re good. Shin’s lucky.”

Shin groaned. “I hate this family.”

You giggled. “I love them.”

Shin turned to you in horror.

Lu clapped his back. “Oh, you’re so doomed.”

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki underestimated how insane this was going to be.

Mafuyu, his younger brother, had immediately dragged you away the second you entered the Seba household.

“I need to test if you’re worthy of my brother,” Mafuyu said seriously. “If you fail, I’ll make him break up with you.”

Natsuki groaned. “Mafuyu, seriously—”

“Silence, loser,” Mafuyu said, then turned back to you. “First question. If you were a fish, what fish would you be?”

You blinked. “Oh! A clownfish, maybe? They seem friendly.”

Mafuyu hummed. “Acceptable. Next. You’re in the middle of a battle. You have one weapon. What do you choose?”

“I… don’t like fighting,” you admitted.

Mafuyu narrowed his eyes. “Trick question. The correct answer is ‘Natsuki.’”

Natsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re so weird.”

Mafuyu ignored him. “Final question. Do you think my brother is cool?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

Mafuyu gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. She’s delusional.”

Natsuki groaned. “That’s enough, Mafuyu—”

Mafuyu crossed his arms. “Fine. You pass.”

Natsuki blinked. “Wait, what?”

Mafuyu shrugged. “She’s obviously nice, and she likes you even though you’re lame. That means she’s loyal.”

Natsuki narrowed his eyes. “I feel very insulted, but I’ll take it.”

Mafuyu nodded. “You have my blessing.”

Natsuki sighed. “Great. Now never talk to my girlfriend again.”

Mafuyu smirked. “Absolutely not.”

Heisuke Mashimo

Heisuke’s “family” was basically just Sakamoto, Shin, Lu, and Hana, and they immediately went feral with their tests.

Sakamoto just stared at you for a while, then nodded. “Alright. You pass.”

Shin and Lu immediately protested.

“No,” Shin said. “She has to prove she can handle Heisuke’s stupidity.”

You blinked. “He’s not stupid, though.”

Silence.

Lu slowly turned to Heisuke. “You brainwashed her.”

Heisuke pouted. “I did not.”

Shin crossed his arms. “Alright. If Heisuke had to snipe something and missed, what would you do?”

You smiled sweetly. “I’d tell him he did his best and that I believe in him.”

Shin and Lu exchanged horrified glances.

“Oh god,” Lu whispered. “She’s an enabler.”

Heisuke grinned. “I love her.”

Sakamoto sighed. “She’s fine. Let them be.”

Lu groaned. “Fine. But if they end up married, I want a separate house far away from the secondhand embarrassment.”

Heisuke just hugged you, grinning. “I knew they’d love you!”

Shin put his head in his hands. “I need a drink.”

Gaku

Gaku didn’t even try to stop Kumanomi.

“I mean, if she can’t survive you, she probably can’t survive me either,” he reasoned, hands in his pockets.

You just tilted your head, smiling sweetly at Kumanomi. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Kumanomi smirked. “We’ll see about that. Sit.”

You obediently took a seat. Gaku leaned against the wall, watching like this was a free show.

Kumanomi pulled out a piece of paper. “Alright, sweetheart. First question: If Gaku loses a fight, what do you do?”

You blinked. “Oh! I’d help him up and tell him he did great.”

Gaku snorted. “Baby. I don’t lose.”

Kumanomi ignored him. “Second question: If you had to fight Gaku, what’s your strategy?”

You thought for a moment. “Um… Distract him with a video game and then run?”

Gaku threw his head back laughing. “That’s actually so smart—”

Kumanomi narrowed her eyes. “Interesting. Third question: Do you think Gaku is intelligent?”

You nodded earnestly. “Of course!”

Kumanomi stared at you like you’d grown three heads. “Oh my god. You’re delusional.”

Gaku burst out laughing. “She likes me, Kumanomi. Of course she’s a little insane.”

Kumanomi sighed. “Final question. If someone flirts with Gaku, what do you do?”

You blinked, then smiled. “I’d probably just hold his hand and remind them he’s taken.”

Gaku grinned. “Aww, babe—”

Kumanomi smirked. “Wrong answer. You fight them.”

Your smile wavered. “But I don’t like fighting…”

Kumanomi nodded solemnly. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

Gaku grinned. “Wait. This means she passes, right?”

Kumanomi rolled her eyes. “She’s too nice for you, but whatever. She’s cute. I’ll allow it.”

Gaku whooped, throwing an arm around you. “Hell yeah, my girl’s approved!”

Kumanomi sighed. “Just don’t get her arrested.”

Gaku smirked. “No promises.”

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ nanami x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ set in minimum wage, maximum suffering

"Your job is soul-crushing, your baking is terrible, and now Nanami is rolling up his sleeves and standing way too close, all in the name of ‘teaching’ you. This is fine. Probably."

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: so this little side story isn’t canon to minimum wage, maximum suffering—think of it as a fun 'what if' scenario set in the same universe! the main story remains unchanged. this can be read without mwms though! this was a request from this ask, and honestly? the idea was too fun not to write. so, consider this an alternate timeline. hope you enjoy!! 🫶

Your shift started like any other: you contemplated whether faking your own death was a viable escape plan, stared blankly at the espresso machine as it let out an unholy screech (you were growing more and more convinced that the damn thing was haunted or something), and questioned if your manager was legally allowed to schedule you for this many hours without a single break. All things considered, just a typical Tuesday.

But today was different.

Because today, Kento Nanami had walked in—your favorite customer.

Not because he was particularly nice (he wasn’t). And not because he was fun to talk to (he wasn’t that either).

It was because he was the only person in this godforsaken café who had a sense of basic human decency and a fully functioning brain.

He didn’t take a century to order. He didn’t ask for fifty modifications to a drink and then complain when it tasted weird. He tipped. And, most importantly, he shared your deep, soul-crushing disdain for minimum-wage labor.

The only thing you knew about him was that he apparently worked as a salaryman (which, in your opinion, meant he probably hated his life), and that he had an alarmingly deep appreciation for bread. Like, a religious appreciation. You were fairly certain he’d commit a crime if it meant getting his hands on the perfect sourdough.

Unfortunately, the café’s menu had exactly one (1) baked item: muffins.

And not just any muffins. No, these were the kind of muffins that had no discernible origin. You had no idea where they came from. No one ever made them. No one ever delivered them. They simply appeared in the display case each morning, like an eldritch horror spawning from the void.

Nanami had Opinions™ about this.

"You call these ‘baked goods?’" Nanami asked, holding up a particularly sad-looking muffin with the same amount of disgust one might reserve for a crime scene.

"I call them that because ‘technically edible’ didn’t fit on the sign," you said, staring at him, deadpan.

He sighed, which you were starting to suspect was just his default reaction to being in this café. "Your menu is lacking. A proper café should have more than just… these."

"Bold of you to assume this is a proper café."

Nanami gave you a long, evaluating look. A look that suggested he was mentally composing a very detailed PowerPoint presentation on why you, personally, were responsible for the downfall of modern cuisine.

“Do you even know how to bake?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded confidently. “I put frozen cookie dough on a tray and then put it in the oven.”

Nanami stared at you as if you had just confessed to a federal crime.

“That doesn’t count.” he flatly stated.

Okay. Rude.

Then, with the seriousness of a man about to deliver a life-altering statement, he declared: "I will teach you."

You blinked. "Teach me what?"

"How to properly bake," he said, adjusting his tie like he was about to walk into a board meeting and not, you know, attempt to fix your godawful baking. The fact that Nanami—a man who always ordered his coffee with the kind of disappointment most people reserved for their divorce settlements—offered to personally teach you how to bake took you completely off guard.

And just like that, after-hours, you’re being dragged into the café’s kitchen, where Nanami suddenly transforms into the Gordon Ramsay of carbs.

Within minutes, Nanami already reorganized the entire kitchen like a man possessed. The chaos of the café’s usual kitchen setup had been wiped from existence. The flour, sugar, and eggs were no longer sad, forgotten relics in the back of the pantry but neatly arranged components of an impending masterpiece. Measuring cups? Neatly arranged. Whisks? Polished.

You, on the other hand, stood there like an NPC in the background of a cooking tutorial.

You had never seen someone look so intensely focused on baking before. Nanami was scarily efficient in the kitchen. His movements were precise, his instructions clear, his patience... well, moderate. He had removed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his forearms in a way that should probably be illegal. His forearms flexed.

You absolutely do not stare.

Unsurprisingly, things went downhill immediately.

You had the motor skills of a T-Rex wearing oven mitts, which became apparent when Nanami asked you to crack an egg.

"Start by cracking an egg," he instructed, his voice steady and authoritative.

Easy enough. Or so you thought.

You picked up the egg, gave it a confident tap against the bowl… and promptly shattered half the shell into the mix.

“Do you need help?” he asked, in the tone of a man trying very hard not to be judgmental.

“No,” you assured, aggressively fishing the eggshell pieces out with your fingers. “I like a little crunch in my pastries.”

“That is a health code violation.” he stated, unimpressed.

After retrieving all the eggshells (probably), you moved on to mixing. Nanami insisted that you actually follow the recipe, which you thought was stupid. Baking was just fancy chemistry, and you had totally passed chemistry, so clearly, you knew best.

“Why do I have to measure everything? Can’t I just… feel it?”

“No,” Nanami said, looking truly offended.

“What if I just eyeball the baking powder?”

“I will walk out of this café and never come back.”

“Okay, jeez, Mr. Precision,” you grumbled, shoving a tablespoon of baking powder into the mix with great hostility.

Nanami watched you like he was supervising a child with scissors. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerously talented?”

“No."

Somehow, in the process of baking, you ended up with flour on your face. Probably because you had smacked the bag against the counter too aggressively, but whatever.

Nanami, to your absolute mortification, reached out and wiped it off your cheek with his thumb.

You froze.

He froze.

The moment was over.

The café’s espresso machine made a noise like an unholy shriek.

“…I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen,” you said, trying to ignore the way your face felt like it was on fire.

“Good,” Nanami said, his ears suspiciously pink.

You both went back to baking, not talking about it.

"Fold the dough gently," he instructed.

You smacked it down onto the counter like it owed you money.

Nanami’s eye twitched. "Gently."

You half-heartedly patted it. "There. That’s basically the same thing."

"It is not."

"I’m trying my best," you informed him back.

"Your best is unacceptable."

"Yeah, well, so is late-stage capitalism, but here we are."

Nanami exhaled through his nose. "Like this."

Before your brain could even begin processing the fact that Nanami was now standing alarmingly close behind you, he reached out, his large, very warm hands covering yours. His touch was firm. Definitely stronger than they need to be for a guy who claims to be a salaryman. His cologne smelled expensive, the kind of scent found in department stores you were too afraid to walk into. It was warm and clean, a little sharp, but pleasant.

Your brain short-circuited.

You were so hyper-aware of him that you barely even registered the fact that he was guiding your hands in slow, precise movements, kneading the dough.

It was... nice.

You try to ignore the fact that this is weirdly intimate. It’s just dough. It’s just baking.

“Keep kneading,” he says, his voice low and measured, close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear. “You need to develop the gluten. If you don’t knead properly, the bread won’t rise.”

Oh, great. So this is how you die.

Your thoughts were not on the dough rising.

Your thoughts were currently running around like headless chickens, screaming into the void.

You tried—really tried—to focus, but your brain decided to betray you in the worst way possible by noticing everything at once: the way his sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms that had no business looking that good; the way his hands felt strong over yours, steady, like he was used to handling things with precision; the way his breath was warm against your ear when he spoke—

Get it together.

He guided your hands in slow, precise motions, and you focused very hard on the dough, not on the fact that he was basically pressed up against your back like some kind of bread-making Phantom of the Opera.

"This is… a lot of effort," you commented, trying to sound casual instead of violently flustered.

Nanami hummed in agreement, still guiding your movements. "Good things take time," he replied.

You blinked. "Was that a metaphor for life, or just bread?"

"Both."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to concentrate on the task instead of the increasingly dangerous thoughts creeping into your brain.

“…Why are you so good at this?” you asked, if only to distract yourself from the current reality of your situation.

Nanami didn’t even glance up. "I bake for myself often."

"Yeah, but this is, like, domestic of you. Should I start calling you ‘chef’?"

"If you must."

You blinked. "Wait, was that sarcasm? Did you just make a joke?"

"Did I?"

"I can’t tell. You’re an enigma."

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Nanami pulled back, allowing you to knead on your own. You immediately felt colder, which was an entirely unhelpful realization. He continued working on his own dough with the focus of a man who took this way too seriously. He had the facial expressions of a Greek tragedy, but there was something oddly soft about the way he worked—focused, precise, content.

He looked… peaceful.

…You were dangerously close to thinking he was attractive.

This was a crisis.

You realized that the atmosphere in the kitchen had become… almost pleasant.

Weird.

You weren’t used to enjoying things while being at this café.

Somehow, with Nanami standing next to you, looking like a very disgruntled baking instructor from a reality show where everyone cried at least once, you didn’t mind being here as much. The croissants you both made were still cooling on the counter, and Nanami was watching them with the kind of protective concern most people reserved for their children. You, on the other hand, were mostly staring at him.

Baking with Nanami wasn’t terrible. He was competent and took things way too seriously, but he was patient. Kind, even. He corrected your terrible technique without making you feel completely stupid, and somehow, against all odds, the croissants turned out perfect. Flaky, golden, and so buttery that you felt like you were committing a crime just looking at them.

You tore off a piece of croissant and popped it into your mouth. Immediate, buttery bliss. “Damn. This is so good, it’s kind of unfair.”

Nanami picked up a croissant, examined it, then took a careful bite. His expression didn’t change, but you swore you saw the light of God enter his eyes.

"Be honest—did you used to be a baker in a past life?" you asked.

"No," he mused. "But I should have been."

He said it so seriously that you actually felt a little bad for him. You stared at him. He stared at the croissants, a little too wistfully for a man who just baked them.

“…Okay, that was unreasonably sad.”

Nanami hummed noncommittally, but his expression remained contemplative.

You squinted at him. “You ever consider, I don’t know, quitting your job and just doing this full-time? Opening a little bakery somewhere?”

His hands twitched—just barely—but enough for you to notice. “Perhaps.”

“Because,” you continued, breaking off another piece of croissant, “I have never seen someone look so happy to knead dough in my life. You thrived back there, Nanami. I think baking is your true calling.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He just stared down at the croissant in his hands, brow slightly furrowed, as if considering the idea.

“…It would be a less idiotic career choice,” he admitted after a moment. “Compared to my current one.”

You had no idea what he actually did for a living—because he only ever vaguely referred to himself as a ‘salaryman’ like some kind of corporate cryptid—but the way he said that made you pause.

“…You don’t like your job?” you asked, tilting your head.

Nanami exhaled slowly, rolling his sleeves back down. “No one likes their job.”

Okay, fair. You weren’t exactly thriving in the café industry yourself.

“I mean, yeah,” you conceded, “but like, if you hate it so much, why not quit?”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression.

“…It’s complicated.”

You didn’t push.

But something about the way he said it sat heavy in your chest.

After a moment, you shoved the croissant toward him. “Here.”

Nanami blinked. “I already have one.”

“Yes, but this is a pity croissant,” you explained with a small shrug. “It’s for the existential crisis I just accidentally triggered.”

He stared at you, then at the croissant.

Then, to your absolute shock, he huffed a laugh.

It was small. Barely even audible. But you heard it.

And you almost had a heart attack right then and there.

“Kento Nanami,” you gasped dramatically. “Did you just laugh?”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I assure you, I did not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I never lie.”

“That’s a lie.”

Nanami shook his head, but there was something undeniably fond in his gaze as he reached out, taking the second croissant from your hands. His fingers brushed against yours—just barely, just for a second—but it was enough to make your brain short-circuit once again.

Later, after the kitchen was cleaned and the croissants were safely stored, Nanami grabbed his blazer, ready to leave, but he hesitated at the counter. For a moment, it almost felt like the end of a date—which was a deeply dangerous thought that you immediately deleted from your brain. You frowned as he turned back toward you, looking—of all things—almost hesitant, as if debating something.

“I… enjoyed this,” he admitted, like the words were unfamiliar in his mouth. “Baking with you.”

“…You enjoyed doing free labor for a minimum-wage café?”

A long sigh. “That is not what I meant.”

You smirked. “Oh, so you just like my company, then?”

Nanami was silent for a moment too long.

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh.

“...I should go,” he said abruptly, slipping his blazer back on and adjusting his tie with slightly more force than necessary. Then, in a rare, rare moment of kindness, he reached out…

And lightly patted your head. Then, before you could even process the head pat—before you could formulate even a single coherent thought—he turned and left.

You stood there, absolutely frozen, brain fried, body experiencing a critical error, feeling something suspiciously fluttery in your chest.

You barely registered it.

Because all you could think about was that Nanami Kento had just patted your head like you were some kind of well-behaved pet and walked away like it was nothing.

And the worst part?

You… kind of liked it.

Oh, no.

The espresso machine let out another unholy sound like it's summoning demons and the lights flickered.

You groaned. “Yeah, same.”

[coracaodeleao]

NSFW Alphabet — Letters N, O, P & Q | Viktor x GN!Reader

(I think this one is more tame and short, tbh. I got nervous in the O(ral) one because of the fandom’s common perception of Viktor as an Oral God, which I kinda disagree with (I think he’s more of a fingering kinda guy). But anyways, here we have: Viktor telling us "no," a bad review turning into a new scheduled evaluation, me and my analogies on how he fucks, and Viktor suffering through a quickie. Have fun, y’all!)

N - No

Viktor shakes his head at your suggestion. “Absolutely not.”

You pout, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting down the collar and cuffs you’d been teasing him with. “Whyyy, Viktor? What’s the problem with it?”

“The problem?” he echoes, clearly exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “The problem is that I don’t know how long I’d take to come home to you. What if something happens? What if someone breaks in and you don’t even hear them because of the damn blindfold?”

You raise an eyebrow. “We don’t exactly live in a warzone, baby.”

“That’s not the point,” he insists. “You’d be handcuffed. Helpless. What if you get cold? What if you panic and can’t get out? What if I get hit by a car and never make it back and you’re left tied up, waiting for a ghost?”

You blink. “Wow. That escalated.”

He rubs at his temple. “I just— I need to know you’re safe. I like control, yes, but not that kind of power. I don’t want you vulnerable when I’m not there to protect you.”

You smile softly, standing to walk over and wrap your arms around him. “So that’s a no to abandonment play?”

He nods firmly. “A very loud, very anxious no.”

You kiss his cheek. “Okay. No getting left tied up alone.”

He sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“But we can try it while you’re home, watching me squirm from the other side of the room?”

That look returns to his eyes — hungry, focused. “That,” he murmurs, “I can work with.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

O - Oral 

You join Viktor in the living room. He’s sitting on the floor, working on something spread across the coffee table. You sit on the couch behind him, legs spread just enough to guide his head between them. He hasn’t looked up yet.

“Viktor,” you say, patting his hair. He hums in response, distracted. “I have some notes on your last performance.”

His hands pause. You've learned that Viktor cannot tolerate a bad review — not in his work, not in his personal projects, and definitely not in your shared activities. He slowly leans his head back against your thigh.

You can’t see his face, but the quiet sigh he gives is full of dread. “What did I do?”

You balance a notebook on his head like a hat. He doesn’t move, even when he hears the pen click. “You used your teeth on me yesterday.”

His head snaps up just slightly, the notebook wobbling. “Are you talking about me giving you head?” His voice already sounds defensive. “Really? Do I need to remind you how bratty you were yesterday?”

“This is not what this is about,” you say simply, still writing. He can feel the pressure of the pen dragging across the paper above his head. “Focus,”

“Yes, it is.” He reaches up and snatches the notebook off his head, throwing a sour look over his shoulder at you before glancing down at the page.

Only to see a giant “69” written across the middle.

He sighs — long, dramatic, and with all the weight of a man who knows he’s being played and can’t even be mad about it. You burst into laughter behind him.

“You should see your face!”

“I should stop giving you the satisfaction,” he mutters, setting the notebook aside. “But no, I won’t. Because I’m good at it.”

You cock your head. “Confident now, are we?”

“I like it,” he says, suddenly sincere. “Giving it. It’s not just the reaction — although, yes, that’s… extremely rewarding.” His voice dips a little. “But there’s something about using my mouth and having you go completely quiet under me. You never shut up, unless it’s that.”

Your smile softens, amused and flattered all at once.

“I don’t need to finish when I’m with you,” he adds. “Not if I can make you feel like that first. That’s enough for me.”

You nudge his shoulder with your knee. “You realize you’re making it very hard to keep this professional tone.”

“I assumed you were never serious in the first place.”

You grab the notebook and pen again, flipping it to a new page. “Fine. Still giving yourself five stars?”

“Four-point-eight,” he says, smug. “Pending another live demonstration.”

You lean forward, brush his hair back, and grin. “Let’s submit more evidence, then.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

P - Pace 

Viktor fucks the same way he sketches a project. There’s a certain reverence to it — a kind of quiet dedication that starts long before the first real touch. He observes. Studies. Picks the right pencil to start, arranges his space, adjusts his position. He’s not in a rush, not until he’s sure the foundation is set.

At first, it’s all soft pressure and experimental touches. His mind works too fast for his hands sometimes, full of intention before execution, and it takes him a while to translate what he wants into something physical. But when it clicks — when he understands the shape of your breath, the hitch in your voice, the angle that makes your toes curl — something changes.

Some days, it stays soft. Controlled. He takes his time, exploring you like you’re a blueprint he’s redrawing from memory, each line traced and perfected. Other days, he gets the idea fast — and then faster. And harder. All precision abandoned in favor of raw momentum, his rhythm crashing against you like the final stroke of genius after hours of quiet work.

Your fingers dig into his back, and he breathes against your throat, steady but hungry. “Your hips twitch just slightly when I touch here,” he says softly, pressing in again. “I think we’ve found something.”

And from there, he abandons the slow pace entirely.

He moves with such focus it borders on desperate. Every thrust, every grind of his hips, every groan from his throat — it’s all fueled by how much he feels you, how badly he wants to give you everything. His rhythm is relentless, and you match him without question, both of you spiraling toward something hot and inevitable.

Later, tangled in sweat and skin, your voice is hoarse when you whisper, “You start like a research paper... and end like a train crash.”

Viktor just smirks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pulls you closer. “I prefer to say… consistent in intensity.”

You hum a laugh and let him curl into you. He always goes quiet after, but you know it’s not distance — it’s contentment. His breath slows against your neck, his hand still resting over your chest, steadying both of your pulses. He’s still working, in his way. Still studying.

But with you, it’s not about perfecting the design.

It’s about savoring every part of the process.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Q - Quickie 

He takes his vest off and kisses you open-mouthed. “We don’t have time.”

You press your body against him, your hand slipping around his neck to pull him closer. “That’s the whole point of a quickie, silly.”

He groans when your hips roll against his. “I don’t even have time to properly take my pants off,” he mutters against your skin. “Especially with my prosthetic on.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, hunger clear in your eyes. He licks his lips at the sight of it.

“Then don’t take it off,” you whisper, grinning. “I like the look of the uniform on you anyway.”

He exhales sharply, caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re making it very hard to be responsible.”

“You love it,” you murmur, fingers already working at the front of his pants. You don’t rush — you’re just precise, getting exactly what you want.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you in. “You know I prefer taking my time.”

You nudge his nose with yours. “You’ll survive ten minutes of chaos, baby.”

“Ten?” he rasps, shuddering slightly when your hand slides lower. “You’re being optimistic.”

You bite back a laugh. “I’m being generous.”

That’s all it takes.

There’s no more arguing — only the rustle of clothes being pushed aside, your back against the wall, his breath caught in your mouth. It’s rushed, a little messy, improvised in the best kind of way. Hands gripping, hips grinding, low groans stifled by kisses that taste like promises for later.

And when it’s done, when your breathing evens out and your clothes are barely adjusted back into place, Viktor gives you that soft, dazed look. The one that says he’s already replaying every second of it in his mind.

“I still prefer when I can worship you properly,” he murmurs, tugging his vest back into place with slightly unsteady hands.

You press a kiss to his flushed cheek. “You’ll have plenty of time for that tonight.”

He hums, a little smug again. “Good. I intend to make up for every second we cut short.”

And from the way his eyes darken, you know he will.

[starastrologyy]

“You illuminate me”

Sun in partners Houses in Synastry

Hi everyone, please note that this is mainly referring to romantic synastry. I can do more posts about platonic or familial synastry in the future, if that’s something that would interest anyone :)

The Sun shows us the area of life we essentially “illuminate” in the life of another person.

Sun in partners 1st house

This is a great overlay in most relationships, as it suggests that there is a common sense of understanding and resonance between the two. The Sun persons ego and identity are in sync with the House persons personality and outward persona. These two can become fast friends, and feel as if they have a lot in common. The Sun person can be drawn to the Ascendant persons physical appearance, and the manner in which they carry themselves. In turn, the house person can often validate the Sun person’s ego and basic identity. They have a profound impact on each others identities and feelings of self-confidence.

Sun in partners 2nd house

The Sun person brings awareness to the house persons values, finances, possessions, and sense of self-worth. The Sun person has the potential to impact the house persons feelings of self-worth (however, this can be negatively or positively depending on how the Sun persons Sun, is aspecting the house persons planets). Nevertheless, in some cases the Sun person can help the house person re-evaluate how they spend money and handle their finances in general. In a romantic context, the house person can at times feel possessive over the Sun person. This is often because they see the Sun person as someone who they “value”. However, if the Sun person is someone who dislikes feeling restricted, they will at times feel overwhelmed by excessive displays of possessiveness. (Please note that this can go either way, it can also be the Sun person feeling possessive of the house person) Despite this, this a helpful overlay when it comes to the acquisition of material items and gifts.

Sun in partners 3rd house

This is a highly communicative and intellectual overlay. The Sun person can encourage the house person to explore matters related to short-distance travels, communication, writing, and mental processing. If words of affirmation are one of your primary love languages, 3rd house overlays are perfect for you. The Sun person often stimulates the house persons desire to communicate, learn, and explore their immediate environment. There can at times be a ‘sibling-like’ bond between the two, as there are likely to be many lively debates and discussions with this overlay.

Sun in partners 4th house

This can often prove to be a very emotionally intimate overlay. The Sun person can encourage the house person to explore their ancestry, heritage, or familial roots in some cases. Alternatively, the house person may feel as if the Sun person is someone who they can truly open up to. There can even be an emotional dependency that forms between the two people. There’s a sense of comfort and familiarity here (as with most overlays on an angle). In a platonic relationship, the Sun person can “feel like family” to the house person. However, in a romantic context, the House person can develop a strong emotional attachment to the Sun person. If there are other factors that support this, the two may even have the desire to live together.

Sun in partners 5th house

This is a very fun, flirty, and light-hearted overlay. These two likely enjoy each other’s company. The Sun person stimulates the house persons desire for fun, romance, and creativity. There can be mutual affection, attraction, and desire between the two. However, it must be noted that 5th house overlays (by themselves) are often not indicative of long-term relationships. However, they do help keep the “spark alive” in most relationships. There can be a great deal of affection and desire that is generated here. The desire is not raw and primal like 8th house overlays, it’s more of a playful or ‘smitten’ type of yearning. Moreover, the 5th house is also the house of children. Thus, children can be a theme here. Lastly, the Sun person can also encourage the house person to be confident in their self-expression. There can also be an emphasis on creativity and shared hobbies with this overlay.

Sun in partners 6th house

This overlay emphasizes routine, service, health, and productivity. The Sun person can make the house person aware of their routines and habits that may be negatively impacting their physical health. There is also a sense of dependability and responsibility that is generated with this overlay. However, planets that fall on the 6th/12th house axis, can also denote that one person tends to give more than they receive. Thus, feelings of resentment can emerge over time. Despite this, the house person often appreciates how helpful the Sun person is. There can also be an emphasis on work, pets, or physical health when they are together. The Sun person can encourage the house person to adopt healthier habits and a productive daily routine.

Sun in partners 7th house

The 7th house is the natural house of partnerships. Thus, when someone’s Sun falls into your 7th house, you may feel as if this person has all the qualities that you desire or look for in a romantic partner. The 7th house is also the house of contracts and business partnerships. Thus, it’s possible that the desire to be business partners can also emerge. Although, 7th house overlays generally yield positive results. The 7th house is also the house of open-enemies. Thus, there can at times be a “love-hate” dynamic between the two. Despite this, you can often feel a very strong ‘pull’ towards someone who has their Sun in your 7th house. Some astrologers assert that 7th house overlays can lead to co-dependency but I think it depends on the individuals involved.

Sun in partners 8th house

This can be an intense but highly transformative overlay. The Sun person often triggers a great deal of transformation within the house person (even if they are unaware of this). The Sun person can illuminate or bring attention to issues that are related to death, transformation, shared resources, taxes, and psychology, in the house persons life. In a romantic relationship, this can cause a great deal of sexual attraction. However, I would also look for 8th house overlays of Mars, Venus, and the Ascendant when it comes to sexual attraction that involves the 8th house. Furthermore, 8th house overlays are rarely ‘easy’ as they often evoke extreme feelings, reactions, and emotions. However, they can be deeply intimate and binding. It can be hard for the 8th house person to let the Sun person go. These two can connect on an exceptionally intimate level (both emotionally and physically). One person may even introduce the other to matters/mediums that are related to the occult or healing.

Sun in partners 9th house

The house person tends to learn a lot from the Sun person with this overlay. They may even idealize them or place them on a pedestal at times. The house persons belief systems and worldly views may change or solidify when they are around the Sun person. This is a very expansive overlay. Topics related to higher education, foreign travel, philosophy, and politics can frequently emerge. Adventure, exploration, education, and travel are key themes here. The Sun person can stimulate the house persons desire for travel and expansion. The world is their oyster. They tend to expand each other’s worldviews and challenge each other’s deeply held beliefs. They can spend a lot of time discussing religion, politics, foreign affairs etc.. (especially if this is accompanied by a 9th house Mercury overlay).

Sun in partners 10th house

This is often a good overlay if two people want to do business together. However, in a romantic context, the Sun person can motivate the house person to achieve all of their career goals and aspirations. In some cases, the Sun person can often show a lot of interest in the house persons career, status, and reputation. The Sun person may even take pride in being associated with the house person. There can be a great deal of admiration and/or respect generated with this overlay. At times, this overlay can have a superficial quality to it, as one or both people may be more concerned about how the other person enhances their reputation or status. However, if both people are exceptionally career or goal-oriented, this can be an overlay that brings them even closer.

Sun in partners 11th house

The 11th house is the house of gains, networks, friendships, worldly aspirations, and communities. With this overlay, a friendship can form between the two people. 11th house overlays tend to produce dynamics in which two people are very tolerant and accepting of each other. These two may eventually integrate their social circles or introduce each other to their respective friends. In some cases, the desire to participate in humanitarian work together can emerge. Although 11th house overlays are not seen as traditionally ‘romantic overlays’ , I actually have observed that they are often present in many long-term relationships (same with 9th house overlays), as the relationship is primarily built on a sense of mutual friendship and camaraderie. Both people are inclined to be tolerant of each other’s quirks and eccentricities with this overlay. The Sun person can introduce the house person to influential groups or networks .

Sun in partners 12th house

12th house overlays are always very interesting in synastry. Their most positive manifestations can denote a highly spiritual, forgiving, and compassionate bond between two people. However if the planet receives many difficult aspects , there may be elements of mistrust, illusions, confusion or even deception. When someone’s Sun falls into another persons 12th house, they can make the house person aware of their personal “blind spots”. One or both people may have to make some personal sacrifices to make the relationship work. In some cases, the Sun person can serve as a spiritual mentor to the house person. Individuals who are very spiritual often remark how 12th house synastry (or a significant transit to the 12th house) triggered their spiritual awakening. Moreover, there can be elements of fantasy or illusion that accompany 12th house overlays. You don’t always see people who have planets in your 12th house clearly. However, you can feel a very deep and ‘otherworldly’ connection to them. If both people are willing to do the work and have made piece with their shadow-sides, 12th house overlays can be incredibly intimate and spiritually healing.

Chart readings are still open for those who are interested! The link is in my bio :)

[darthannie]

By Way of Louisiana

Remmick x f!OC (mixed oc!!!!!)

word count: 4,019 tags & warnings: (JUST IN CASE) (JUST IN FUCKING CASE) DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark fic!!!, mention of a dead loved one, grief, discussion of pregnancy/infertility, mention of infidelity, dubcon due to extenuating circumstances, inappropriate use of a cemetery, blood, lots of blood, choking, spit, p in v sex, death, but also living eternally a/n (plz read if you can xoxo): I really (x3) wanted to practice writing in first person instead of second person so this is a product of that want. I don't know if this is going to have a second part. I kind of like it as a stand alone, but I do have a half written part 2 that's banter and smut written in Remmick's pov. This was VERY fun to write. I would LOVE to explore his character more. Also, my blog is a space is where I go to explore the parts of me I can't explore in real life. And, that includes a hot southern/irish vampire with very sharp teeth, glowing eyes, and razor like nails. Sorry! Sue me!! Send me to the rack!!! Don't care, argue with the wall. Morally corrupt vampire I need you apologies to the ancestors.

The rich, black fabric that hung on my body felt exceptionally heavy. I entered my quiet home and laid back against the wooden door. My shakey breath rang through the room as the tears welled up and up and up, before finally spilling over, blurring the reminance of my late husband that was strewn around. His favorite hat hung by the door along with the coat he wore when it got too cool at night. I dragged my feet to my bedroom. His handkerchief laid on his bedside table along with a book he never got to finish reading. 

This new life I had to undertake was not one I was ready for; one did not prepare for widowship as they prepared for motherhood. Me and Charlie wanted to start trying for a baby. We had no luck, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe it was why he started becoming distant. I did not want to bring life into this world alone. I wanted to do it with Charlie. We had met years ago when he had just started practicing law at Louisiana’s top law film, making more money than my family had ever seen. Charlie gave me everything. The home I sat in, the food in the kitchen, the clothes on my body. It was all because of him. My closet was full of pieces he bought, insisting I looked the best in clothing he bought me. “Come on, what’s one more dress for my pretty girl?” He’d seal the sentiment with a kiss. Oh, how I’d miss his kisses. His lips felt like they were made for me. 

Sitting on his side of the bed felt wrong. I grabbed the hankerchief off the bedside and fiddled with it in my hands, snaking it between my fingers. I chuckled as I dried my tears with it, remembering a silly moment where he’d spilled a glass of milk on himself one morning because the glass was too slippery. I laughed again, remembering how we danced on our wedding night. Our limbs moved in dissonance with each other as we danced. There were moments, beautiful moments, where our movements finally matched. A humourless chuckle followed as I remembered his lips on my body later that night when we were finally alone.

My only wish was that he not treat me like glass, but he did. He always did. Whenever we had sex, the sole purpose was to have a child. Tender, yes, but boring all the same. I wanted him to bring me to the same conlusion I always brought myself to, but he thought it better to focus on brining an heir into the world. Part of me resented him for it. The rest of me wanted to peel my skin off in shame for ever questioning his treatment of me, especially when he had given me everything. 

I looked down at my black dress, grappling with the impulse to take it off and pretend like this was not happening. I didn’t like this lonely feeling. This emptiness was familiar, but it wasn’t welcome. I sat frozen, evaluating myself in the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. My face no longer felt hot, my eyes slightly red from their agitation. I sucked in a deep breath and watched as the air filled my body. I felt it fill up my belly, reach around my ribs, and rope it’s way up my back. My exhale helped me send enough signals from my brain to my muscles to start moving again. I walked out the room and paced down the stairs, wrapping my shall around me in the process.

There was no need for anything heavier in this weather. The warmth left over by the setting sun wrapped me up and guided me down the path, helping me haul my legs towards the cemetary where my husband lay. I stood at the closed gates. “Go home,” it said. “You saw him today, no need to torture yourself further,” it continued. But, I could not listen to the closed gates plea. I pushed passed the it, not bothering to close it behind me, and hedged forth. 

I quickly became aware of an oppressive weight that I was not meant bare. The heaft of death followed me everywhere. It would not leave me and time has proven that I could not escape it. I wondered when it would be my turn, when death would finally end up at my doorstep and take me away from this excuse of a life. I held my breath and released it when I could no longer restrict my lamentation. I moved quickly, gaining speed as I careened left and right. My cries and tears unfurled over unexpected raised stones and exposed roots. My shoulders began to lead me. My arms extented out towards his headstone before it was even in reach. I fell into it and wrapped my arms around it, letting gravity take my knees to the ground. 

The stone was cold to the touch, no longer warmed by the afternoon sun. My cries contined as the moon hung itself high. I laid my forehead against the headstone and kissed it. “Please come back to me. Please, for the love of God, come back to me.” No answer. I shut my eyes kissed the stone again. “You said you’d stay. You said you wouldn’t leave me,” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a groan, “and you can’t. You just can’t! I can’t be alone again!” My cries got quieter and quieter until I silenced. The graveyard surrounding me was completely empty. The sky was so wide it seemed like it could swallow me whole. The stars above me didn’t twinkle or dance in the sky. They stood still, observing my grief. I let go of the stone and laid against it, resting my eyes. My shall hung off one shoulder and I didn’t bother to tug it back on. Eyes shut, I sniffed and did all I could think to do. 

I wiped my nose and began singing the words I had sang since I was a kid. 

“Will the circle be unbroken by and by, lord, by and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky, lord, in the sky?

My eyes flew open wide when a sweet voice and a banjo that were not mine joined in. 

“There are loved ones in the glory Whose dear forms you often miss, When you close your earthly story Will you join them in their bliss?”

My eyes slid up his body and I realized I should be level with him if I wanted to seem any kind of intimidating. I marionetted myself upright before he finished singing. I was unarmed, a silly mistake. I could throw a punch but that was about it. When he finished the verse, he laid the banjo on the ground and held his hands in front of him. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just heard some hootin’ and hollerin’ and saw the cemetery gate was open. Decided to investigate.” I stepped behind the stone, expecting it to offer me protection. The man read the headstone and saw the dates etched into it. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost a lot of people too,” he relaxed his arms next to him. You avoided his question to proceed with your own interrogation, “What are you doing here? It’s late,” I stammered, “and the cemetery is closed.”

“I could ask you the same question.” He chuckled. I was unsettled by his levity, feeling so very dark as I stood behind my dead husband’s tomb. His face was sad when he spoke again, “Sometimes I feel a bit like a ghost myself.” I cocked my head to the side, “Why?” He ignored me. I changed the subject. “When did you learn to play.

He whistled, “Ooo, a while back. I met a man who played and taught myself.” 

“The man didn’t teach you?”

“He didn’t need to.”

“Hm.”

I got a better look of him in the moonlight. His dark eyes caught the light and made them shimmer in an unnatural way. Odd. His hair was short, but laid shaggy on his forehead. The ends at the nape of his neck started to curl upwards. I leaned forward on Charlie’s headstone and hid my face in shame. I thought the man was fine. Not only that, I thought he was damn fine. I felt like a whore, looking at another man before my husband was even cold in his grave. I lifted my head and he offered me a shy smile before he said more, hooking his thumbs on his suspenders and pulling them. “If its any consolation, based on my experience, I know that grief is firm and steady. But, it does get better… I just don’t know when.” I hummed in agreement this time and for the first time all day, I cracked a smile. “I’ll drink to that.” I kicked a rock at my feet, dusted myself, and returned the shaul to it’s rightful shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’ll be leavin’. Thanks for the talk, stranger.” 

“Remmick,” he said closing the gap between the two of us by a few feet, “pleased to make your aquaintance.” He held out his hand and I did the same. He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, right over my wedding band. I pulled my hand away and sucked in air through my teeth like I had just burned myself on hot cast iron. “Um-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’”

“It’s fine. It’s just…”

“Look, I still wear mine. It’s okay.” He held up his hand and pointed at the gold band that laid on his finger. “I know she’s gone and I should move on, but it’s a nice reminder that, at one point, I wasn’t all that alone.” It wasn’t until his thumb wiped the tears on my face that I realized I was crying. “It feels nice knowing you’re wanted. Feels good to know you have someone to go home to.” All I could do was nod. 

“I met a man named Charles recently, but his friends called him Charlie.” He smiled at me, closing the gap further as I met his eyes. “Me and Charlie… we got to know each other. He told me he had a wife back home. That’s you, ain’t it? Yeah, he told me how much he loved her, how beautiful her voice was. Though, I have to say, that didn’t stop him from sampling all that joint had to offer.” I blinked water away and refocused my gaze on Remmick. “He what?”, it came out of me as a whisper. He kept going, “Even after being with a couple different women he still gushed about you. “She doesn’t sing like a songbird.” He said, “She sounds more like a wolf howling in the night.” And, lo and behold, guess who I find howlin’ in the night? Charlie’s wife.”

I could not digest what he was feeding me. There was a lack of acknowledgement on my part. I wanted to ignore everything Remmick said to me, but all I could think of were the reasons Charlie would sleep with other women. Can’t get pregnant, I thought. I can’t get pregnant. He didn’t want me because I couldn’t get pregnant. My skin burned hot at Remmick’s confirmation, “Such a shame you couldn’t have his child.” 

It broke me out of my trace. I leaned back. “Fuck you!” Remmick only chuckled and I found it in me to place both of my hands on his chest to push him away with all the force I could muster. “You come out here, start talkin’ nonsense about my husband. Damn liar, that’s what you are.” My mind was eddying with the information he fed me.I felt sick as I thought of being relegated to housewife with a husband who snuck around because I couldn’t give him a child. I didn’t want it to be true but what good would it be for a man I had just met to lie? Remmick closed the gap and pressed his body the other side of the tombstone again. He got so close to me our noses almost touched. His hand reached up to my face and wiped the tears off my cheeks again. He skated the back of his right hand against my face, stroking me like one would a frail bird. I swatted his hand away before he could speak, scoffing and making my legs move in the direction of the cemetery gates. “Unbelievable son of a bitch,” I muttered. 

Remmick yanked me back forcefully. It took me all of two seconds to notice that his eyes now more resembled red jewels. Then, I saw the drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. “I got to know Charlie very well. Briefly, but I knew him well all the same. His memories became mine. I know you like to sing in the mornings and read in the garden. I know he bought you that shawl you’re wearing at your favorite shop in town. I know that your family was dirt poor and was picked off one by one. Family of consumptives, picked off one by one, but that wasn’t all was it? Your ma and pa were keepin’ a real big secret, keeping you safe, right? No one had to know. But, that dramatic wave in your hair used to be a dead give away.” I gasped and felt something poke my arm.

Remmick’s nails had formed into claws half the size of my pinky. “We don’t have to bear our crosses alone. We could do it together.” He dragged an open hand down my arm until he reached my wrist. He pressed his thumb down on my arm to create a small cut. He lifted my arm, turned his head, and licked the blood that flowed from my wrist. Remmick moaned, “We don’t have to be alone,” as my blood touched the tip of his tongue.

His other clawed hand reached for my waist as he put my arm around his shoulder. I laced my fingers though his hair, half tugging him away. The fear coursing through my nervous system coiled itself with my desire. This was no man. He was something else, and that excited me as much as it disgusted me. I tested my luck by pulling his hair harder, making the distance between us grow. He bared sharp fangs at me and sucked air through his saliva covered teeth. 

I gawked at him, my lips parting open slightly. He regained his composure and strengthened the grip on my waist. His claws broke skin and left nasty cuts where they impailed. I winced, the pain sobering. This was not right. My husband laid directly under us, likely rolling in the casket I buried him in. I tried to imagine him fighting his way though six feet of earth to get to me. Instead, I saw Charlie staying late at the office with his secretary because he could not stand being with me. I saw Charlie getting drunk and kissing a younger woman. I saw him tossin’ some coin at a man and getting keys to a room for him and a woman liked more than me. I could not get a handle on my thoughts. I wanted to deny him. I wanted to run and escape. I heard my voice before I was able to move, “I don’t think you knew him at all. You don’t know what he wanted. You don’t know how he viewed me, and-”

His voice lacerated mine, “I know what you look like when you’re laying down.” I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. “I know that Charlie came home quietly on some occasions so he could watch how you touched yourself. You never caught him lookin’. Or, maybe you did and liked being watched.” I swallowed hard, my heart attempted to break through my ribcage. “I do know for a fact that he loved seeing that little pussy take him in deep…” He dragged the last word as he slowly pulled the shawl off my shoulder. “I know that you have dark desires you’d rather take to the grave because you told him. He never paid it any mind, assuming you’d grow out of it when you got pregnant. But, you never got pregnant. And, you never lost those needs, huh?”

He pressed me flush against him and my grip on his hair loosened. “I know how you like to be touched, licked, and used. I know more about you than you think.” The hand on my waist moved to my head, guiding me to look up at the sky as he licked from my collarbone allllllll the way up to my ear. “But, I still think I could know you more. We could get to know each other. Isn’t that what you want? To know and be known?” I gulped, “Not like that. Not by you.” 

Remmick sighed, “Let’s fix that then.” 

The second his teeth broke my skin, sweet grunts and hums of appreciation reached my ears. “I sure like the taste of you.” I choked as my blood spilled over my chest in gentle streams. He unlatched from my neck in order to indulge in my body. We made eye contact as his hands traveled down my sides, riping my dress in the process. The thin fabric gave easily to the pull of his sharp nails. He slid his hand under my dress and used his nails to lift the edge of my underwear. He wanted to feel the warmth of my skin against his and the a wild look in his eye told me he was holding back. He cautiously ran his tongue over the swell of my chest, tasting the blood mixed with the salt of my skin. I felt his fangs slowly sink through the skin that protected my heart. He let the blood trickle into his mouth. He drank piously, honoring my body as it slumped against him. I struggled to speak, “Remmick, please… St… stop. Fuck. Ple…Please…” 

He guided me onto the ground, onto my husband’s grave, and kneeled in between my legs. It was difficult to feel much fear when Remmick’s movements mimicked care. My eyes shut too long for his liking, prompting him to tap lightly on my cheek. He cooed “Oh, no, no, no, baby, we’re not gonna stop. You don’t want me to stop. And, right now, I need you awake. I need you to remember this.” He pulled me in for a kiss with a bloodied hand. I wanted to fight him. “Find a way out”, I thought. “This is wrong,” I told myself. It was not enough to convince me. I shut my eyes tight and didn’t feel Remmick against my lips. I felt Charlie, or at least the feeling of when I was with Charlie. It felt like Remmick’s lips were made just for me. He nipped at my bottom lip when he pulled away. The taste of copper was strong on my tongue. I licked the new wound on my lip and reached for Remmick’s suspenders. Sloppy, but determined, I moved the straps off his shoulders and fiddled with his belt buckle. I pulled his pants down and shimmied my dress up, laying back. I needed him to indulge in all my urges. I needed him to take me the way I’ve always wanted to be taken, and I think he could tell. 

Remmick’s body alined with mine as I led him into me. I felt everything. I gripped onto his shirt and he pulled out slowly and entered me again. “I have been waiting for someone like you for a while.” I reveled in the way he stretched me. It was difficult to keep my moans in. He was bigger than Charlie was, and I’d only ever been with Charlie. My sounds were as involuntary as my arms were when they wrapped around Remmick’s shoulders. “Open your mouth.” I did as I was told and dropped my jaw. Remmick let his saliva drip into my mouth, savoring the taste of it mixed with my blood. My head leaned back as his hand ran across my neck and down inbetween my clothed breasts.

He grunted as he handled my body and our movements ended with me on top of him. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I don’t expect you to ride me. Just let me do all the work.” My arms settled on the sides of his body as I laid against him. He cradled me against his chest as I grabbed the sides of his shirt. The absense of his heartbeat registered when I felt mine slow. The arms wrapped around me tightened. He bucked his hips up repeatedly. Over and over again, he hit the right spot inside of me. I was a mumbling mess. “Remmick, I- Plea- Fuck!” The sentence was never a fully formed thought, just an acknowledgment of him and what he was doing to me. He put his forehead against mine as he barrled up into me. He pressed his lips against mine as he consecrated my body. His cock hit every right spot, making me gasp and whine each time he sunk inside me. 

“Look at me,” he begged. His eyes were still red, but softer. No soul in them, but a tenderness still lived there. “We will be beautiful together. I swear it,” his hips moved quicker as his forehead pressed to mine, “We’ll be unstoppable, darlin’, you and I. Okay? You and I. Forever.” My whines continued and I could not quell them. “Forever?” It came out like a plea. I wanted him to promise that forever. I was tired of the temporary nature of every person in my life. For once, I wanted the promise of forever. Remmick grined at me and I smiled back. He was giving me the chance to never be alone. I would always have someone in my corner. I’d finally escape the life I lead, and for that, I would do anything. 

I had heard stories and suspersitions about creatures like him. I should be terrified. I should want to fight back, get away from his grasp and make it til sunrise. I ignored the more sane thoughts by kissing him again. My moans and his grunts formed a symphony that bouncing off nearby headstones, filling out the night sky. My hips tried to meet him half way, but his pace was so solid, and I was so weak, there was no point in me even trying. I began feeling the pressure build up in me. “We’ll never be alone again,” his voice was heavy and sincere. My stuttered moans came to a stop as my orgasm ravanged my body. I grabbed Remmick’s sides as he helped me continue to ride out my orgasm.

His moans and grunts became frantic until he slowed and kissed my lips. He shuttered as his cock twitched and he emptied inside of me. After a moment, his hips moved again, slowly, as he enjoyed the gentleness of my whimpers and the sensitivity of our bodies together. Once our movements and convulsions stopped, he pulled out. We laid still for a while, I was too weak to do much else. He caressed my body and smoothed his hand over my head. He sat up with me still in his arms.

“It won’t hurt too bad. I don’t bite too hard,” he vowed. I nodded. His divine intervention may save me yet. “Now. Please. I’m tired and I-” I gasped as I felt his teeth bite down harder than before. So much for not biting hard. He was relentless. I heard the slurping and drinking as I felt the blood drain from my body. The hands that gripped onto him went limp and my arms fell to my side. I felt cold and empty.

And then, I felt nothing at all.

[therealcocoshady]

Hey! Can you please write marshall's reaction when doctor tells him that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS and all of them are BOYS?

Boy dad 🩵

A/N : I find it absolutely hilarious that you sent this request right after I mention I had a soft spot for writing Eminem as the ultimate girl dad 😅. You’re challenging me and I like that 👀. Also… I had SO MUCH FUN writing this request. I don’t think I have written anything this fast ! I hope you enjoy it ✨.

CW : Mention of infertility diagnosis - surprise pregnancy - triplet - mention of abortive measures - angst - fluff

I imagine that he’d react differently to all these news, this pregnancy definitely bringing him on some type of emotional rollercoaster.

He absolutely did not expect you to tell him you were pregnant. You’d been together for a while and, early on in the relationship, you’d told him that you had endometriosis, and that the rather advanced stage of the condition affected your fertility. He didn’t mind it one bit, though. He already had daughters and did not necessarily want any more kids. If you had mentioned that being a mom was important to you, he would have done everything in his power to make your dreams come true, whether it was by doing IVF or adopting. But you didn’t. You’d known about the condition for more than a decade and, though it hadn’t been easy at first, you were at peace with the idea of not raising kids. As long as you had the love of your life by your side, you knew you’d be happy. The two of you went on to get married and enjoy life together. For years, you enjoyed marital bliss and a childfree home, his daughters being all grown up and out of the house. Never in a million years did you expect to get pregnant. The absence of period didn’t exactly tip you off, since your cycle had always been very irregular. And you almost laughed in the face of your GP when she suggested you get some bloodwork done and do a pregnancy test. Sure, you’d booked a consultation because of fatigue and nausea, but there was no way in your mind that the symptoms could be pregnancy-related. After all, the doctors had evaluated your chances of conceiving as « slim to none ». The only reason you agreed to the pregnancy test was because the bloodwork prescription also included other things, so you figured your GP would actually find the cause, probably anemia, and prescribe you some supplements.

You nearly fell from your chair when she called you about the result, and you had her confirm several times that there was no confusion, or that it was not a prank. When the call ended, you burst in a fit of nervous laughter, still in disbelief. Your laugh echoed throughout the house, causing Marshall to come to your office. You realized you probably sounded manic and demented when you saw your husband’s concerned expression. « Are you… alright? » he asked with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t even think twice abut breaking the news to him. « The doctor called. She had my results », you said, struggling to form a complete sentence. He looked at you, nervosity creeping up on him. When it came to you, he seemed to have the ability to get paranoid over nothing. And if it had you sounding this insane, he figured bad news weren’t exactly out of the question, especially with how sick you had been in the past few weeks. He kneeled by your side, holding your hand in his. « So… Is there anything wrong? » he asked in a concerned tone. « I’m pregnant, » you cackled, sounding like a hyena. « Fifteen years ago, they said I was infertile. I did three years of therapy after that and now… pregnant », you hysterically guffawed. You had tears streaming on your cheeks and you struggled to catch your breathing, the nervous laughter taking over your body. So much so that you didn’t even register Marshall’s reaction, or lack thereof. But, minutes after you said the word, you slowly realized he’d remained silent. He was still in the same position, staring at you without so much as blinking. For a spare second, you thought he’d turned into a wax statue and you suddenly understood why some people had described his stare as « creepy ». As your mind became clearer and the silence settled, you started freaking out. « Marshall…? » you asked. He slowly started blinking, looking at you as if he were a deer in headlights. « P-pregnant? » he whispered. « You’re… pregnant? ». You gently squeezed your hand and nodded, the news dawning on you in a different way. « I am » you confirmed. « And, uh… eight weeks along, approximately ». He let out a sigh, visibly surprised. Then, he took both of your hands and kissed them profusely.

« But you’re alright? » he asked, and you nodded again. « Fuck, babe, you scared me. I wasn’t sure if you were dying, or demented, or both » he let out with a chuckle. « Nope… Just… Pregnant », you giggled, still in disbelief over the word. « That’s wonderful » he said emotionally, a smile appearing on your face. You looked at him, scanning his face, just to be sure. « You really think so? » you asked. « Because I know it wasn’t planned, and… ». He gently pressed his finger to your lips and shook his head. « It wasn’t. Fuck. It really wasn’t. But if you’re happy about it… Wait. Are you? » he asked carefully. You gave him a nod and a smile. « I am. I just… I can’t believe it ». He cupped your face and smiled at you tenderly. « If you are happy about it, so am I. That’s great news, Y/N. We made a baby » he said. You couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, happy tears welling in your eyes. « I thought I’d never be a mom » you whispered, waves of emotions crashing over you as you remembered the first time you were told you couldn’t conceive. « Apparently, you thought wrong » he said, happiness radiating on his face. « And I know our baby already has the best mama » he added emotionally, bringing you into a tight, heartfelt embrace.

The following couple of weeks was emotional but happy. The two of you were ecstatic, determined to welcome this baby as the most beautiful blessing ever. You were still sick and exhausted, but the perspective of welcoming a bundle of joy that was the product of your love certainly made it easier to bear, as did your husband’s gentle care. He seemed determined to make your life easier and give you the most beautiful pregnancy experience, constantly dotting on you and spoiling you. You thought he’d given you the princess treatment in your early courting days but apparently, he was able to take it to another level. You didn’t need the numerous bouquets of flowers (in fact, the smell made you nauseous but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that), nor the many presents, but you enjoyed them nonetheless. Most of all, you loved seeing his excitement and devotion for the baby, whom both of you had yet to see.

Both of you felt a sense of childlike excitement, going for the ultrasound appointment. The closest thing you could compare it to was your niece’s first trip to Disneyland, preparing to meet her favorite princesses. You were a little nervous, praying that the baby was healthy. You’d asked Marshall about the gender, and whether he’d rather have a boy or a girl, but both of you were in agreement that, as long as the baby was healthy, it did not matter. « You know, I always thought being a girl dad was what made me so soft, but I know the baby will have me wrapped around their finger, even if they’re a boy » he said. You knew that it was too early to know the gender anyway, but you couldn’t help it. You kept on trying to imagine what that baby would look like. Marshall held your hand in his as the doctor put the probe on your stomach, squeezing tighter as both of you noticed the furrowing of her eyebrows, looking at the screen. « Alright », she said. « It looks like I made a little mistake while interpreting the hormone rate results » she said, turning to you. You turned to Marshall, a sense of nervosity taking over, unsure what the implications were. Did she mean that there was no baby ? Or that there was some health issues? You felt a lump form in your throat, unable to talk. « What mistake? » Marshall nearly barked, nerves taking over his usual politeness. « Well, you see, we usually use the hormone rates to give an estimate, of how far along the pregnancy is » she explained. « However, we tend to assume that it’s a singleton ». Both of you opened wide eyes and you held two fingers up. « Twins? » you asked in a throaty voice. « Triplets » she announced with a smile. « You’re not as far along as I thought. About six weeks. But all three babies are healthy ».

Part of you wanted to sigh in relief, over the news that the pregnancy was healthy but learning that you were carrying not one, not two, but three babies sent both you and Marshall into a spiral. As you drove home, pictures in hand, none of you knew how to feel, and you both remained rather quiet, exchanging banalities, visibly in shock and in need of some time to process. Not so long ago, you were sure you’d never have kids and now, you had to wrap your head around the fact that you were carrying three. In a way, it was a blessing, for sure. But you’d spent so many years envisioning your life without kids of your own that even the perspective of raising one was overwhelming. Multiplying it by three left you speechless and terrified. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do this. And you weren’t sure how your husband felt either. That would make him a dad to… Six kids. You spent the night in your bed, trying to get some rest and emotional clarity. You took to Google, typing vague and stupid requests such as « pregnant with triplets and freaking out ». You were hoping for some support, some testimonies of parents who had shared your concerns but made it work. Instead, you were met with hundreds of resources about selective fetal reduction procedures. You read a couple of them but, soon enough, you ended up bawling. You couldn’t bring yourself to consider it. You weren’t really churchy or religious by any means, but part of you wanted to believe that life had given you triplets for a reason, and there was no way you would get rid of one of your babies. They were there, and you already loved them so much, even if the perspective of running after three toddlers was nerve-wracking.

When Marshall walked into your shared bedroom and found you crying, he immediately engulfed you into a hug. « Babe, what’s wrong? » he asked softly. « I’m so scared. Three babies is a lot » you hiccuped. « But I don’t want to kill any of them ». He stepped back and looked at you in shock. « Woah, woah, woah. Calm down. Who said we needed to kill babies? » he asked. « I learned that there’s this surgery, that you… I don’t know. Apparently, people do that when they’re carrying too many babies » you tentatively explained in a shaky voice. « I’m freaking out, Marshall. And I know you are, too ». He hummed and nodded, not denying it. « Of course I am » he said gently. « I mean, I wasn’t prepared for a new baby. And now, knowing there’s three of them… It’s a lot. But we can do it. It’ll just take… a lot of logistics. And diapers, I guess. ». His tone was reassuring, though you could tell he was definitely stressed out. « But how are we going to do? With work and all? And do you think we’ll get any sleep at all? » you asked nervously. He shrugged and pressed a kiss to your forehead. « I don’t know » he admitted. « But we’re lucky enough that we can afford anything we need. If you want to quit your job, you can. Or we can get nannies, or a chef, or whatever. Or I can quit my job. But we’ll manage, I know it ». You let out a sigh and let your head roll on his shoulder. « It’s going to change everything » you said. « Yeah, it is. But we’re doing this together. » he replied. « So… You don’t want to get rid of two of them? » you nervously asked. « No. If you think you can’t handle three kids and you want to have that surgery, I’ll support you. But other than that, it’s not up to me to decide. It’s your body and your pregnancy. And whether we have one, three, or seven babies, I will love and support all of you ».

In the months that followed, Marshall continued to dot on you, trying to provide comfort and reassurance, but you could feel each other’s nervousness. This wasn’t help by the reaction to your pregnancy announcement. Your friends and family, though they were happy for you, were not exactly tactful about the huge change the triplets would bring in their life, sometimes making little jokes about Marshall being « too old for this shit ». They also seemed concerned about the impact on his career, though he made it clear that family would remain his priority, as it had been in the past, and that he would put his career on hold if need be. He reiterated the sentiment when you confronted him about it. « You don’t have to do this, you know? I know your career is important to you, and that you had so many plans in mind. The last thing I want is for the pregnancy to ruin it for you » you told him one night. « I know I don’t have to » he assured you. « But you’re my wife. You became my family the day I put a ring on your finger. We vowed to support each other and you held your part of the deal all these years. You supported me in everything. I want to be here for you and our babies. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to sacrifice more than you have » he said. You nodded, swallowing dryly. You had felt his tension and nervousness in the past weeks. He remained loving and caring, but you knew he was trying to anticipate everything. «Look, I’ve already talked to Paul. We cleared the schedule for a while. Two months before your due date, and six months after that. Then, we’ll reevaluate. But it’s not just all the career, you know? We’re welcoming three babies, everything is going to change and, some of it is going to be hard, but it’s also going to be happy. I don’t want to miss any milestone. The first time they smile, the crawling, the first steps… I want to be there. So, really, you giving me three amazing, beautiful, healthy kids is not ruining anything ».

As the pregnancy progressed, however, the nervousness remained. The two of you certainly had a few cold sweats when you tried to prepare for the birth, overwhelmed by the amount of baby stuff. Cribs, diapers, bottles, car seats… Everything was to be multiplied by three. In true dad fashion, he decided to buy a new car to accommodate the needs of your growing family, but you could see his frustration. « I think I’ll just end up repurposing a tour bus » he sighed. « The amount of stuff we’ll be driving around is insane ! Have you seen the space we’ll need, just to fit the stroller and diaper bags?! ». The more you tried to prepare, the less joyful it became. The two of you were still happy, determined to welcome the babies and love them, but you were both overwhelmed, especially Marshall. Carrying the babies, feeling them growing inside of you was your main source of comfort and reassurance but, even though your husband was involved, he didn’t have that bond. For him, it still felt distant and logistical. Until the gender reveal.

Prior to learning you were having triplets, the two of you had toyed with the idea of waiting until the birth to find out the gender. But now that the planning was overwhelming, it felt like knowing the gender would make things easier. You also suspected that it might help Marshall feel a little closer to your little ones, since he would be able to at least picture it a little better. However, you opted out of turning it into a huge event. Carrying triplets was exhausting and you were in no mood to be social for a whole afternoon. Instead, you decided to enjoy the moment, just the two of you. The doctor had given you an envelope with the gender of the triplets, which you have to the owner of your favorite bakery. You ended up with a three-layered cake, the color of each layer representing the gender of one baby. « Are you ready? » you asked as you opened the box, revealing an elegant cake, coated in white frosting. « Ready » he said with a smile. « Still no preference for the gender? » you asked teasingly. « I’m hoping for at least one son, » he admitted. « I love being a girl dad, but six daughters and a wife would feel… A little lonely » he chuckled before crouching in front of you and placing a loving kiss on your belly. « But I love y’all anyway » he whispered. You took a deep breath and cut the cake, careful not to look before he could. « I can’t do it! » you said. « I can’t look! You have a look and tell me! ». He chuckled as you closed your eyes. You heard the cluttering of cutlery, followed by a « HOLY SHIT!!! ». You immediately opened your eyes and saw all blue layers inside of the piece of cake on the plate.

Marshall was covering in mouth, in absolute disbelief. « Boys! All boys! » he said. « Looks like your wish came true » you whispered. He took your hands and kissed you lovingly. « You’re going to be a boy mom » he stated with a smile, knowing full-well you’d always said the boy moms were the most annoying of the species. You giggled and pressed your forehead to his. « Hopefully, I don’t become too annoying » you chuckled. « Do whatever you want, I’m definitely going to be an annoying boy dad » he grinned. «After we eat that cake, I’m ordering Lions jerseys for them. And Jordans. Oh my God, I’m having sons ». You watched lovingly as he rambled about how great it would be to introduce them to football, how much fun they’d have bonding over sports. His joy, which had seemed quieted by the logistical concerns, was overwhelming and he was positively beaming. « I’m quitting » he finally said. « You’re what?! » you asked. « Babe, picture this: you give birth to these three, and you do it twice more. Maybe just twins for the last pregnancy. We only need 11 players for the Mathers football team! ». You rolled your eyes at him and patted his chest. « We’ll see how you feel about it after the first night home from the hospital » you said. He rolled his eyes back at you and placed a kiss on your lips. « I can’t wait to meet these guys ».

[narastories]

on the topic of writing software

I want to ramble at you about some writing software options. 98% of the time I'm perfectly content with LibreOffice Writer (and previously I used Word, back when Microsoft products were less shitty). But every now and then when I have a new project (like now - more on that later) I start looking for something shiny and new to try. And I fell down into another research rabbit hole lol

I usually don't talk a lot about this bc my needs are very simple, and not sure how useful my opinion is to others, but I enjoy the topic. It's an intersection of creative writing and tech nerdiness and I like both of those things. Also what writing software you prefer really depends on the type of writer that you are, and everyone has a slightly different writing process and I find that fascinating.

Now, as I said, I'm coming at it from a slightly tech-nerd angle. I don't care if the installation is clunky, I'm happy to see the words open-source, and the need to create an account will already mildly piss me off (:

Don't worry, I'm not as intense as the guy writing his novel in Vim. Though fucking respect. And I can't say I'm not tempted to try it even with the steep learning curve lmao (Seriously, if you don't know Vim is notorious among software developers.)

Anyway, things I've tried so far:

Manuskript: this was listed as an open-source Scrivener alternative (though I haven't tried Scrivener. so.). I gave it a go when I was writing heart worth the trouble and it was pretty nice. It helped me when I had to move scenes and chapters around. But overall I think it was made with plotters in mind bc it wants you to enter a lot of information upfront. I'm not a planner/architect type of writer so this type of software is a bit overwhelming for me. Still, the fact that it's open source and works on Linux gets kudos from me.

Wavemaker: I recently played around with this, and I actually surprisingly like the features it has. You can put multiple books in a project, which is very nice if you like to work on different things, like fanfic, novels, etc. The mindmap is a feature I liked, though it's a bit clunky bc it collapses the text fields when you exit, and once I added an image field by accident that I could never remove lol I do like a bit of a snowflake method, so that feature is cool, and the cards are pretty straightforward too. Usually, my problem with these apps is that I don't even want to touch half of the features so they are pointless to me, but the features of Wavemaker were kind of nice. It's a web app that you can download and use offline but it's still working from your browser if that makes sense. That was what I didn't really appreciate. Also, it doesn't give you a lot of options to back it up. You either save the wavemaker file, export it into a document (which is fine, but it adds an extra step to the backup process) or you sync with Google Drive *shudders*

Things I want to try out:

Calmly Writer: now this is just purely a text editor that focuses on being very zen, streamlined, distraction-free, etc. It's pretty and it has typewriter sounds. (Yeah, I'm not immune to a pretty UI and harmless fun features alright? I can contain multitudes :P) It has an online version, but you can also download it, and works on Windows, Mac, and Linux. On paper, the desktop app requires a license, but the way they put it is that you can evaluate it for free and the evaluation doesn't have an enforced time limit... So. As good as free. (Though if I really like it, I would totally consider buying a license for 20usd that I can use on 3 computers, that seems fair. I appreciate a license over a subscription model for sure.) Honestly, I think this is the one I'm going to try next bc it just integrates perfectly into my writing process. That being: a multitude of messy, hand-written notes and notebooks + a document editor + backups on hard drive and GitHub (yes, really) ^^"

Shaxpir: This is on the opposite end of the spectrum basically, but out of the "fancy" ones, I kind of like the look of this the most. I like the statistics part in particular. But honestly, I probably won't try it bc it doesn't have a Linux version which would be a pain in the ass for me, and is cloud-based. I kind of don't really trust them, which is my biggest issue with these companies. (Although the creator's heart seems to be in the right place when it comes to AI. Basically, some of their features are based on machine learning and language models. For example, it will recognize passive voice, if it's an adverb with "-ly" or the emotion of a word. Which I think is all cool and fine and shouldn't be lumped in with generative AI. But he also had a website that did this analysis for already published works, and when people pointed out that it was sketchy, he took that down and I can respect that. I'm not sure how much it influenced the actual features of the app, maybe I'll just take a peek out of curiosity. The whole thing does make me have trust issues though lmao) If anyone has experience with it though, I'm interested to hear about it.

Obsidian: not a dedicated writing software, but rather an elaborate note-taking app. I heard good things about it from smart people lol If I really wanted to access my writing on my phone, I would probably use this bc it works on every platform and has end-to-end encrypted sync with version control. I heard you can also integrate it with GitHub which is always music to my ears lol But the setup probably takes a bit of time and I'm not particularly motivated to do that right now.

So yeah, those are the options that appeal to me right now. If anyone used these and has opinions, I'm all ears :D