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alohajix · 1 day ago

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𝐒𝐡𝐡𝐡… 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐔𝐬

Description: I wasn’t supposed to be here again. He wasn’t supposed to notice. But when Harry pulls me onto his tour bus after the show, things get filthy fast—and staying quiet is the one thing he can’t do.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, power imbalance, oral (f. & m. receiving), praise kink, spit kink, hair pulling, chocking, dirty talk, slight degradation & risk of being overheard. Readers +18.

Words count: 4.4K

author note: okay so… this wasn’t supposed to be posted until thursday, but i got an unexpected day off today and couldn’t resist finishing it early ♡ this one-shot is based on a request (which was such a fun idea to play with), but i’ll be honest—i definitely struggled trying to make it feel just right ✨ still, i’m really happy with how it turned out and i hope you love it as much as harry loves being loud on that tour bus…

also!! if you ever have a request, don’t be shy—my inbox is always open ♡ i love writing about everything and anything, so hit me up whenever your brain is full of chaos and ideas

enjoy the filth, angels ☆彡

*****

I told myself this was the last one. No more spontaneous flight bookings. No more overpriced tickets. No more chasing cities just to stand front row and pretend it was a coincidence that he always looked my way.

But here I was—again. Pressed against the barricade, surrounded by screaming fans, heart pounding hard enough to shake my ribs. I could already feel the bass thrumming through the floor, could smell the mix of fog and stadium air. And when the lights dropped, my entire body lit up like it knew he was near. The roar was deafening when he walked out. Curls wild. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease. Smile lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He waved to the crowd, took the mic, and scanned the sea of faces with practiced ease.

And then he saw me. I knew the exact second it happened. His eyes found mine and held. Not a quick pass. Not a maybe. A beat. Then two. Long enough to feel the air catch in my lungs. Long enough for my hands to tremble where they gripped the rail. He didn’t smile. Not right away. Just tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure me out. Like he remembered. Then, as the intro to Love Of My Life started, he looked away—just barely—and smirked. I felt it in my knees.

The rest of the show blurred, but not the way it usually did. My body moved on instinct—singing, swaying, screaming when everyone else did—but my head? It was back in that moment. That glance. That smirk. That impossible possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t just looking through me like every other night. And by the time the last song faded, my throat was raw and my chest felt like it had been cracked open.

The lights came up. People started to file out. But I stood there, frozen, gripping the barricade like it might disappear. I didn’t even notice the staffer until he was standing beside me, subtle in black with a headset tucked behind his ear.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

My mouth barely moved. “Yeah.”

He glanced around, voice low. “Would you like to come backstage?”

My heart thudded. “Wait—seriously?”

“He asked for you.”

The walk backstage felt unreal. Like I wasn’t in my own body. The halls were dim, the walls pulsing faintly with the echo of music still vibrating through the venue. Other fans walked beside me—maybe ten of us in total—all chatting and laughing and smoothing their hair in their phone cameras. But I couldn’t join in. I couldn’t even think straight. Because if this was what I thought it was… If he really asked for me… Then none of this was just in my head.

He walked into the room like the encore never ended. Still glowing from the stage, hair messier now, shirt hanging open over his chest, towel slung across his shoulders. He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way—like he hadn’t had time to come down from the high of performing, like he’d stepped off stage and walked straight into this moment.

His gaze swept over the group, casual… until he saw me. And then it wasn’t casual at all. He stopped. His smile twitched into something warmer, softer. Something only for me.

“Hi, love,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “You made it.”

Every cell in my body flipped. He moved closer, hugging the fan beside me quickly, then stepped into my space like he belonged there. He didn’t even hesitate. His arms wrapped around my waist—firm, warm, way too sure. And when I hugged him back, my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt without meaning to. His scent hit me hard: sweat, cologne, something faintly sweet. Familiar. Overwhelming.

He didn’t let go right away. I felt his breath against my ear when he leaned in for the photo. Felt the slight press of his chest against mine.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he murmured. “But I’m glad I did.” My heart stuttered.

He pulled back slowly, hand lingering against the small of my back. His eyes flicked down to my lips—so fast I almost missed it—and then met mine again, steady and full of things I couldn’t even begin to name.

“You look good tonight,” he said simply.

I didn’t even remember smiling for the photo. I don’t think I blinked the entire time he stood next to me. And when he moved away, I felt cold.

They ushered us out a few minutes later, gently guiding everyone toward the exit. The group chattered happily, already buzzing about social media captions and edits and which pose Harry used with who. But I wasn’t paying attention. Because just before I reached the hall, a hand caught my wrist.

“Wait.” I turned—and it was the same staffer from earlier. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Don’t leave with the rest.”

My pulse skipped. “What?”

“He said he wanted to see you. Properly.” I blinked. “Come with me.”

I followed him through the back halls like I wasn’t entirely sure I was awake. The venue had mostly emptied. The muffled chatter of crew echoed in the distance, paired with the dull thump of gear being loaded into trucks. But the further we walked, the quieter it got. The kind of quiet that made my pulse echo in my ears.

The staffer didn’t say much—just kept a steady pace and glanced over his shoulder once or twice, like he was making sure I hadn’t run. Believe me, I’d thought about it. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be him. But I didn’t stop walking. He led me through a gate, past a few trailers, and toward the tour buses parked side by side under flickering lot lights. The biggest one sat tucked behind a row of gear crates, its door slightly open. The inside glowed low and golden through the tinted window. He paused just before it, turned toward me, and gave me a look that made my stomach flip.

“Wait here. He’s just finishing up.” I nodded, unsure my voice would come out right.

He stepped onto the bus and shut the door behind him. The silence that followed was too much. I folded my arms to keep them from shaking, looked down at my shoes, tried to steady my breathing. Every second stretched. I could still feel the way Harry’s hand had pressed against my back. Still hear the rasp of his voice in my ear. Didn’t think I’d see you again. It was on a loop. Every word. Every glance. The way he looked at me like he knew what I’d been thinking from the very first night.

The bus door creaked open again. My head snapped up. He stood there, framed by warm light. Loose sweats low on his hips. White towel draped around his neck. Damp curls sticking to his forehead. His eyes found mine instantly. Something shifted in his expression. Like a string being pulled tight.

“Come in, sweetheart.” His voice was lower than before. Rougher. Not a question.

My legs moved before my brain caught up. I stepped onto the bus, my breath catching the second the door shut behind me. The inside was dim, cozy. Blankets tossed on couches. A few flickering lights running along the ceiling. It smelled like him—clean sweat, something warm and woodsy.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at me. I could feel the air buzz between us. He took one slow step forward.

“You’ve been following the tour,” he said, voice soft.

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t teasing. Just… noticing.

I nodded. “Since Denver.”

He smiled, barely. “I know. I’ve seen you.”

My stomach flipped. “I thought maybe you had.”

He kept moving closer. “You wore that green thing in Nashville.”

My cheeks burned. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything.”

Now he was standing right in front of me. I had to tilt my head back just slightly to meet his eyes. They were darker now. Hungrier. And I swear—swear—he looked at my mouth like he’d already had it.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “Tried to. Told myself it was nothing.” His fingers brushed my wrist. Light. Barely there. “But then you showed up again tonight… and I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to wait.”

I let out the softest breath. He leaned in.

“You want this, don’t you?” he whispered.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

He didn’t hesitate. One hand slid to the back of my neck. The other gripped my waist. And then he kissed me. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was messy and hot and open-mouthed, like he’d been waiting for this since the moment our eyes first met. Like he didn’t have time to be careful. I kissed him back like I’d been aching to. His hands roamed—over my back, my hips, curling into my hair. I gasped when he tugged. He groaned when I bit his lip. It was clumsy in the best way. Urgent. Desperate.

When he pulled back, we were both breathless. He pressed his forehead to mine.

“We’ve got about ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe fifteen.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “That enough?” he asked.

I smiled, breathless. “More than.”

He grinned, wicked and boyish. “Knew I liked you.”

Then he took my hand, pulled me toward the back of the bus—and locked the door behind us. The second the door clicked shut behind us, something in him shifted. His grip tightened. His mouth crashed onto mine again, more urgent this time—less like a kiss and more like a collision. Tongue deep, teeth nipping, hands everywhere. He was all over me. Pushing me back until my knees hit the couch.

“Sit,” he rasped.

I dropped onto the cushions without thinking, my thighs pressed together in anticipation. He stood over me, chest rising and falling. His eyes dragged slowly down my body, so full of heat it made my skin burn.

“You’re real fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

I swallowed, nodding before I even realized I was doing it. He leaned down and tugged me forward by the hips until I was slotted between his legs. One of his hands slid into my hair—fingers twisting—and the other cupped my jaw.

“Open your mouth for me.” I obeyed instantly. He smirked, then let a string of spit drip from his mouth onto my tongue. “Swallow.” Fuck.

I did, and he groaned under his breath like I’d just touched him.

“Good girl.” I whimpered.

He knelt down, suddenly eye-level with me, and reached under my skirt without warning. His fingers pushed past the waistband of my panties, sliding through the slick mess already there.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

I could barely breathe. “Been like that since the meet and greet.”

He laughed—a soft, breathy sound full of disbelief. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Then his fingers dipped inside me, slow at first, curling just right. My head dropped back with a moan.

He leaned in, lips against my throat. “You gotta be quiet, angel.” I nodded quickly. “You gonna be good for me?”

I nodded again, harder. “Yes. I promise.”

But then he pushed a second finger in, twisting them just right, and my hips bucked.

He groaned into my neck. “You’re already losing it.”

I bit my lip to keep the sound in, whimpering as he fucked me with his fingers, faster now, his thumb circling my clit with practiced ease. My thighs started to shake.

He pulled back to watch me. “Want you to come just like this. Think you can do that for me?” I tried to answer but it came out as a whine. He smirked, breath hot. “C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t make me work for it.”

A few more strokes and I was gone—legs shaking, mouth open in a silent cry, nails digging into his shoulder. He kissed me through it, swallowing the broken sounds, letting me fall apart all over his hand. And then—without warning—he stood up, yanked his sweats down, and wrapped a fist around his cock. I gasped. It was thick. Heavy. Veiny. Red at the tip. And already leaking.

“You wanna be on your knees for this,” he muttered, voice gone rough. I dropped instantly. He let out the filthiest moan I’d ever heard when I wrapped my lips around him. “Fuck, that’s it… just like that.”

His hand tangled in my hair again, gently guiding the pace as I sucked him deep—tongue tracing every ridge, cheeks hollowing. He hissed every time I gagged a little, then praised me like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Fuckin’ mouth on you… god, I’m not gonna last—” But he didn’t pull away.

He grabbed the back of my head and held me there, cock deep, hips jerking forward once—twice—and then he pulled out last second, stroking himself with fast, desperate movements right in front of my face. I looked up, eyes wide, panting, spit smeared across my chin.

He groaned. “Get on the couch. Now. On your back.” I scrambled up, heart racing. He climbed over me, lined himself up, and paused. “Still want this?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Please.”

And he slid in, slow and thick and deep. We both moaned—his low and drawn out, mine high and choked. He started to move, hips snapping hard and fast almost immediately.

I gasped. “Harry—fuck—too loud—”

“I know,” he panted. “I know, I’m sorry. Can’t help it.”

He bent down, buried his face in my neck, and kept fucking me like he didn’t care who heard. But then someone walked past the bus. Footsteps. Close. I tensed. Froze. Covered my mouth with both hands. Harry didn’t stop.

He looked me straight in the eye and whispered, “Stay with me. Ride it out.”

Then he grabbed both of my thighs, shoved them up, and drove into me deeper—hard enough to make the couch creak. I bit back a scream, head thrown back. He watched me come undone again, completely wrecked under him, my body trembling and breath hitched. He didn’t even try to be quiet now.

“Fucking—shit—this pussy’s perfect—fuck—” I reached up, hand over his mouth. He growled behind it. Licked it. Bit my palm.

When he finally came, it was with a broken moan into my neck and a final, hard thrust. His whole body shook. He muttered something I couldn’t understand—just breath and curse words and my name over and over. He collapsed on top of me, still inside, breathing hard. Neither of us spoke for a while. His hand found mine, fingers lacing. Then he laughed, barely.

“I was so loud.”

I nodded, dazed. “You were.”

“I’ll take the blame if anyone says anything.”

I smiled. “Worth it.”

He leaned up just enough to kiss me again—softer this time. Sweeter. Then he grinned.

“Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

*****

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk199o @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @mads3502

#harry styles #harry styles smut #masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles request #x reader

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adragonprinceswhore · 8 months ago

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Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room.

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep.

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce.

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show.

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you.

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name.

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained.

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No.

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued.

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower.

No hair.

No makeup.

Great.

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down.

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit.

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour.

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for.

Three interviews down, two to go.

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated.

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is.

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so”

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life.

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum,

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest.

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present.

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh.

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words.

Betrayal?

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath.

You will not cause a scene.

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you.

You will not give him what he wants.

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps.

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond?

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet.

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror.

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red.

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album.

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process.

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately.

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour.

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates.

Well, mostly with Aemond.

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now.

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close.

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name.

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak.

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body.

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it.

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can”

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses.

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches.

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition.

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained.

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan.

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin.

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories.

They hurt the most.

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be.

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own.

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time.

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving.

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap.

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you.

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over,

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented”

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking.

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks.

“Of course”, you reply shortly.

Why is he asking for permission?

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds,

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door,

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind.

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin.

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room.

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic.

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you?

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name.

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night.

“What would you do if I were there?”

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background.

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”.

Aemond groans.

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are.

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you.

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage.

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good.

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers.

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’.

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio.

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing,

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him.

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience.

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds.

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best.

Where you can contribute something to the world.

Make people happy.

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song.

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder.

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you.

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing,

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back.

Fuck that.

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell.

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down.

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you.

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching.

Why is he suddenly so intimidating?

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago.

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago.

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man.

You hear the crowd cheer.

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye.

The crowd cheers louder and louder.

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar.

Never looking down.

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #my fics #rumours #Spotify

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ryeomin · 1 year ago

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ಇ jungkook headcanons.

pairing : idol!jungkook x f!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

𓇢𓆸 while on tour

:: brings you souvenirs from the different cities he goes to while on tour. :: you send each other cute photo dumps at the end of the day; him getting ready on stage, outfit checks, mirror selfie, pics with other members, him on stage. and you send pics of you trying a new café, what you ate today, you walking bam, your outfit before going out with you friends, you spending the weekend at his parent’s house (they love you a lot ♡) :: always make sure to wear the necklace you gifted him for the encore stage. :: sends you a text once he’s back at his hotel to know if he can call you. :: you always try your best to stay awake but if you fall asleep he will make sure to write a cute text for you to wake up to. :: before he leaves he will wear as many hoodies as he can so they can have his scent on them for you to wear or sleep with.

𓇢𓆸 at home.

:: you two have this routine where you watch a movie together once a week. one is in charge for the drinks and the other for the snacks. :: he loves to see you in his clothes. :: since you have the same taste as him in fashion he sometimes will buy matching shirts for you two. :: when he comes back from work he tries to bring you your favorite pastries if the bakery is open. :: karaoke nights are a must ! :: likes to make new recipes and you are always the first one to try them, complimenting him and telling him to share the recipe with army. :: loves when you hug him from behind while he is in the kitchen or the other way around. :: stay up late staring at you while in bed, sometimes will get up and write some lines about you, you are his muse.

𓇢𓆸 at work.

:: appreciates a lot when you come visit him during rehearsals to support him, kudos if you bring him an iced americano ! :: writes lyrics about you but will only show them to you when he deems them perfect :: your opinion matters a lot to him !

:: always tries to include you in his works, whether it is in the lyrics, the mv, the album packaging. :: asks if you are okay with your voice being used for the intro song of his album. :: loves to see you getting along with the other members ♡

#bts #jungkook #jungkook headcanons #kpop #army #bts army #jungkook imagines #jjk #bts jjk #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts headcanons #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook fic #bts x female reader #jungkook x female reader

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somenights · 14 days ago

Text

AESPA ♡ Synk: Parallel Line - Encore / 250315

#aespa #femaleidolsedit #femaleidol #idolady #aespaedit #aespainc #flashing tw #g #a #💐#i can't believe it's come to an end i'm so glad i was able to see them live 😭

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w1w2 · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request for Yn surprise Sana in last day of misamo concert promotion . Tnx

Encore of Love

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 4,5k

Synopsis: Reader surprises her girlfriend Sana during Misamo's final concert at Kyocera Dome.

Notes: My first request! *kicking my feet and giggling* I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The grand Kyocera Dome hummed with electric anticipation, a living, breathing entity alive with the chatter of tens of thousands of ONCEs who had gathered for Misamo’s final concert of the HAUTE COUTURE promotions. The sprawling venue, renowned for its iconic architecture and exceptional acoustics, was transformed into a dazzling world of light and color, each corner meticulously designed to reflect the elegance and energy of Misamo.

Banners bearing images of Mina, Sana, and Momo adorned every available surface, their radiant smiles seemingly watching over the crowd. Outside, vendors sold exclusive merchandise, lightsticks, posters, and limited-edition concert wear, all of which fans clutched tightly as they shuffled into the arena. The faint sound of music seeped through the walls, further heightening the excitement.

Backstage, the mood was just as electric, albeit tinged with nervous energy. The members of Misamo were in the final stages of their preparation. Stylists fluttered around them, adding last-minute touches to their already impeccable hair and makeup. Mina reviewed her choreography with the precision of a seasoned professional, her calm demeanor a steadying force amidst the chaos. Momo bounced on the balls of her feet, her vibrant energy filling the room as she hyped herself up for the performance.

And then there was Sana, who was the heart of the group tonight. She stood near the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of her sparkling outfit, a mix of glittering silver and pastel hues. Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of excitement and focus as she practiced her warm-up routines. Yet, beneath her radiant smile, a hint of something softer lingered, a yearning.

Sana’s thoughts drifted momentarily to Y/N. It wasn’t unusual for her to miss Y/N before a big performance, but tonight felt different. The culmination of the Misamo second mini album promotions was a milestone, one she’d poured her heart into, and the absence of her partner left a subtle void. The phone call they’d shared earlier replayed in her mind.

“Baby, I wish I could be there…” Y/N’s voice had sounded warm but hurried, laced with a vague excuse that Sana couldn’t quite decipher.

“It’s okay,” Sana had replied, masking her disappointment. “I know you’re busy. Just… don’t forget to watch the stream, okay?”

“Of course,” Y/N had reassured her, her voice softening. “You’ll be amazing, I know it. I’ll call you right after.”

Back in the venue, Sana shook the thought away. There was no room for distractions now. She had to give her all for the fans who had supported them every step of the way. Yet, as she headed towards the stage, a small voice in her heart whispered, I wish you were here.

Meanwhile, in the audience, hidden among the crowd, a figure sat quietly in the shadows. Clad in a hoodie, a mask, and a baseball cap pulled low over their eyes, Y/N kept her head down, careful not to attract any attention. She gripped her lightstick tightly, heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.

Just a little bit longer, Y/N thought, stealing a glance at the stage where the preparations were in full swing. The plan she’d meticulously crafted over the past few weeks was set in motion. All she needed now was perfect timing.

In the distance, the roaring chants of the crowd swelled, echoing through the dome as the stage lights dimmed, signaling that the concert was about to begin. The countdown had started, not just for Misamo, but for the surprise that would light up Sana’s heart.

It hadn’t been easy, pulling off a gesture like this. There had been countless sleepless nights, a relentless travel schedule, and the constant fear of slipping up and giving herself away. But Y/N knew it would all be worth it when Sana finally saw what she had planned. As the lights danced across the stage, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to the whirlwind of planning that had led her to this very moment.

Few hours earlier Y/N paced back and forth in her hotel room, phone pressed to her ear. Her chest tightened with both guilt and excitement as Sana’s voice came through, soft and loving despite the distance between them.

“Baby, you sound exhausted,” Sana said, her tone tinged with concern. “Have you been eating properly? Sleeping enough?”

Y/N smiled despite herself, Sana’s caring nature always finding a way to melt her heart. She glanced at the clock, calculating the hours until she would see her girlfriend. Not long now, she thought, biting her lip to suppress the excitement bubbling inside her.

“I’m fine, love,” Y/N replied, her voice steady though her heart raced. “Work has been hectic, that’s all. I promise I’ll call you later tonight, okay? I have to go now.”

A faint pause came from the other end. “Oh… okay. Just don’t overwork yourself, alright? I’ll miss you tonight.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hated being vague with Sana, but the surprise was worth it. “I’ll miss you too. You’re going to be amazing tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sana said softly before the line disconnected.

With a sigh of relief, Y/N dropped onto the bed, her mind racing through the intricate plan she had spent weeks coordinating. This wasn’t just about showing up at the concert; it was about making a statement, proving to Sana just how much she meant to her.

Step One: Learning the Choreography

Y/N’s first challenge was mastering the choreography for the encore medley, a feat she had never attempted before. Dancing wasn’t her forte, but she was determined to nail every move.

Under the guidance of Misamo’s choreographer, she practiced tirelessly whenever her schedule allowed. Late nights in the dance studio became a ritual, her muscles sore and her body aching, but the thought of Sana’s smile kept her going.

“She’s going to freak out when she sees you up there,” Momo had teased during one of Y/N’s secret rehearsals.

“You think so?” Y/N asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“Absolutely,” Mina chimed in, offering Y/N a bottle of water. “But you’ll have to keep it a secret until then. Sana’s like a radar when it comes to you.”

Y/N grinned, her determination hardening. “I’ll make it worth it.”

Step Two: The Flowers and Letter

Next on the list was preparing Sana’s favorite bouquet, an arrangement of pastel pink and white peonies, accented with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. Y/N had spent hours researching florists in Osaka to ensure the bouquet would be perfect. Alongside it, she penned a handwritten letter, pouring her heart into every word.

Dear Sana,

I’ve missed more than just your concerts. I’ve missed you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and I can’t wait to tell you just how much you mean to me tonight.

You’ve been my light, even when I’ve been far away. I hope this little surprise makes you feel as loved as you make me feel every single day.

Love, Y/N.

She folded the letter carefully, slipping it into an envelope adorned with a small heart sticker.

Step Three: Gaining Permission

Convincing the managers to allow her on stage had been a delicate process. Misamo’s schedule was packed, and every second of the concert was tightly planned. Thankfully, Mina and Momo had pulled a few strings, vouching for Y/N’s commitment and the sentimental significance of her gesture.

“We promise she won’t disrupt the flow,” Momo had assured the managers with her signature cheeky grin.

“Just think of it as an extra special encore for the fans,” Mina added diplomatically.

Reluctantly, the managers agreed, giving Y/N clearance to join the stage during the closing part.

Step Four: The Disguise

On the night of the concert, Y/N’s final task was to blend in with the crowd unnoticed. She donned a simple black hoodie, paired with jeans and sneakers. A baseball cap and mask completed her disguise. As she entered the arena, she felt a thrill of nervous energy.

Y/N pulled back from her thoughts as the fans around her were buzzing with excitement, waving lightsticks and chanting Misamo members names. Y/N sat near the back, where she could watch the first half of the show without drawing attention to herself. She clutched her lightstick tightly, her heart pounding as the lights dimmed and the concert began.

For now, she was just another fan in the crowd. But soon, she would take the stage, and Sana would know exactly how much she was loved.

The stage, an intricate masterpiece of dazzling LED panels and towering floral arrangements, pulsed with vivid colors as the opening notes of Misamo’s first song reverberated through the air.

Mina, Sana, and Momo emerged from behind the massive screens, their synchronized steps and radiant smiles igniting deafening cheers from the audience. Their outfits sparkled under the stage lights, sleek designs that exuded both elegance and charm.

From the moment they stepped onto the stage, Misamo radiated effortless grace and energy, their performances honed to perfection. Mina’s moves were fluid and precise, every gesture executed with the poise of a professional. Momo’s energy lit up the stage, her sharp, dynamic dance style captivating the crowd. And Sana—

Sana shone brightest of all.

Her soft features were illuminated by the glow of the stage lights, her eyes shimmering as she sang and danced with effortless charm. Her radiant smile, the one that could light up even the darkest corners of a room, was ever-present, and yet… something was missing.

As Sana twirled across the stage during “Marshmallow”, the fans could see nothing but joy, but there was a subtle, fleeting shadow in her expression, a quiet longing. She gave her all to the performance, yet there was a small space in her heart that felt incomplete.

Hidden in the crowd, Y/N's eyes never leaving Sana. Her heart swelled with pride and affection as she watched her girlfriend perform with such grace and confidence. But she also noticed the faint longing in Sana’s gaze, and it only made her more determined to make her surprise unforgettable.

Y/N clutched her lightstick tightly, her fingers trembling slightly from the mixture of nerves and excitement. “You’re incredible, Sana,” she murmured under her breath, the words swallowed by the thunderous applause around her.

As Misamo transitioned seamlessly into “Identity”, the energy in the room reached a fever pitch. The camera operators expertly captured every moment, occasionally panning across the audience. On one such pan, the lens lingered briefly on a hooded figure seated discreetly near the back. Y/N froze for a split second but quickly turned her face away, pretending to adjust her cap.

The fans, blissfully unaware of the figure’s true identity, simply assumed she was another ONCE enjoying the show.

Y/N, however, felt the weight of the moment. Her chest tightened with anticipation as she waited for "New Look", her cue to slip backstage and put the next phase of her plan into action. Until then, she allowed herself to enjoy the performance, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she whispered to herself, “Just wait, Sana. I’ll make tonight unforgettable.”

The thunderous applause from “New Look” had barely subsided when the stage lights dimmed, casting the arena into a hushed anticipation. The opening notes of “Behind the Curtain” began to echo through the dome, a hauntingly beautiful melody that always left the audience spellbound.

This was Y/N’s moment.

While the crowd cheered in unison, Y/N slipped away from her seat and made her way through the staff entrance, her heart pounding. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now. A backstage crew member ushered her into a small dressing room where a coordinated outfit awaited her.

Y/N changed quickly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tightened the laces on her performance shoes. One last glance in the mirror revealed a nervous but determined woman. She took a deep breath, clutching the bouquet and letter she’d prepared.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself before handing the bouquet to a staff member to bring to the stage later.

As the first song of the encore was ending Y/N joined the backup dancers lining up behind the screens for the encore medley.

Sana, alongside Mina and Momo, twirled across the stage with radiant energy, their synchronization flawless as they transitioned into the last part of the encore. Her playful expressions and smooth moves captivated the audience, drawing cheers so loud they vibrated through the air.

She was too immersed in the performance to notice at first.

When Y/N stepped onto the stage among the backup dancers, blending seamlessly into the choreography, she couldn’t help but smile at how surreal the moment felt. Each step she had rehearsed so many times now felt automatic, her focus entirely on Sana.

The crowd didn’t seem to recognize Y/N right away, though a few murmurs rippled through the audience as some fans noticed a new face on stage.

It wasn’t until the "Wah Wah Wah" part, when Sana turned to interact with the dancers, her gaze landed on Y/N.

For a split second, Sana froze mid-step, her eyes widening in disbelief. Her usual polished composure faltered as her radiant smile transformed into a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” she mouthed silently, her voice drowned out by the music.

Y/N flashed her a small, playful wink before continuing the routine. Sana quickly recovered, her movements a little lighter now, as if she’d been infused with a burst of joy.

The audience, unaware of their connection, erupted into cheers at Sana’s visibly delighted reaction. Fans began speculating among themselves, sensing there's something more special then just friendship between two girls.

As the medley ended, the lights dimmed again, and the stage was briefly quiet. The members of Misamo moved toward the front of the stage to thank their fans, their microphones already in hand. But before they could begin, the spotlight shifted to Y/N, who stepped forward from the group of dancers, clutching the bouquet of flowers.

The crowd gasped in unison as Y/N pulled off a mic, lowered her head slightly, and began to speak into the arena’s microphone.

“Hi, everyone,” Y/N began, her voice steady despite the overwhelming mix of nerves and love. She turned her gaze to Sana, who stood frozen, her hand pressed to her chest as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I wanted to take this moment to say how incredibly proud I am of you girls. Especially you, Sana. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done, everything you’ve achieved. Even though I couldn’t be there for most of this journey, I’ve been cheering for you every step of the way. You light up every room you walk into, and you’ve been my light too. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

Sana’s tears finally spilled over as she stepped closer, her radiant smile trembling with emotion. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their phones lighting up the arena as they captured the heartfelt moment.

Y/N held out the bouquet, which Sana accepted with trembling hands. Pulling Y/N into a tight embrace, she whispered, just loud enough for Y/N to hear, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N murmured back, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

As the cheers grew louder, Sana and Y/N stepped back together, still holding hands, their smiles beaming brighter than any spotlight. Rest of the Misamo joined them moments later, Mina and Momo grinning mischievously as they teased Sana for tearing up on stage.

The group waved to the crowd one last time before disappearing backstage, the echoes of the audience’s applause following them as they left the stage together.

The backstage area buzzed with post-show energy. Crew members congratulated each other, Misamo’s managers offered heartfelt praise, and staff snapped photos to commemorate the final concert. In the midst of it all, Y/N found herself pulled into hugs from both Mina and Momo, their teasing smiles already giving away their plans to poke fun at her.

“You really pulled it off,” Momo said, grinning as she leaned against the dressing room doorframe. “I was a little worried you’d trip on stage during ‘Marshmallow,’ part but you nailed it!”

Mina nodded in agreement, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “We’ve been keeping this secret for weeks, and honestly? Watching Sana’s face when she realized it was you made it all worth it.”

“Her jaw practically hit the floor,” Momo added with a laugh, glancing at Sana, who was trying (and failing) not to blush. “The fans noticed too. You might’ve just become the most iconic backup dancer in Misamo history.”

“Stop it, you two,” Sana huffed, though the blush on her cheeks deepened. She turned to Y/N with a small pout, her tone softening. “You really had to involve these two in your grand scheme?”

Y/N shrugged, feigning innocence. “I needed backup for the backup plan. And I’d say it worked out pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

Sana rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Stop teasing me,” she whined, though her soft smile betrayed just how happy she was.

Y/N, emboldened by the lighthearted banter, chimed in, “Come on, it was worth it just to see you cry on stage.”

Sana narrowed her eyes, pretending to be offended. “I wasn’t crying. It was… emotional perspiration!”

“Right,” Y/N said with a laugh, reaching out to take Sana’s hand. The group dissolved into laughter, the camaraderie between them shining brighter than ever.

After a flurry of photos with the crew and staff, the four of them retreated to Misamo’s dressing room. Momo flopped dramatically onto the couch while Mina carefully began removing her stage accessories.

Sana and Y/N sat side by side, their fingers intertwined as if they couldn’t bear to let go. Despite the teasing, Mina and Momo exchanged knowing glances, quietly slipping out of the room to give the couple a rare moment of privacy.

As they left the venue later that night, the streets of Osaka were alive with fans lingering in the afterglow of the concert. Y/N and Sana walked hand in hand, their steps slow and unhurried as they basked in each other’s presence.

“You know,” Sana began, her voice soft, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you here tonight until I saw you on that stage. It felt like… everything was perfect.”

Y/N squeezed her hand gently. “I hated missing so much of your promotion. I felt like I wasn’t there for you, and I wanted to make up for that. You deserve to know how loved you are, not just by ONCEs, but by me.”

Sana leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder as they continued walking. “You don’t have to make up for anything. Just being here tonight was more than enough.”

“Well, I’m glad I made you cry anyway,” Y/N teased, earning a light shove from Sana.

Later that night, the warm glow of the hotel room’s ambient lighting created an intimate cocoon around Y/N and Sana. They sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, a late-night dinner spread out between them. The faint hum of the city outside was the only sound beyond their laughter.

Sana picked at a piece of sushi, giggling as she recounted the encore’s highlights. “Did you see Momo trying to suppress her laugh when the confetti cannon misfired? She almost tripped over Mina during the turn.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning back on her hands as she watched Sana relive the moment, her face animated and glowing with happiness. “I did. But somehow you managed to keep it together and still look flawless. Seriously, how do you do that?”

Sana shrugged with mock modesty, a playful glint in her eyes. “Years of practice. You pick up a thing or two when the cameras are always on you.”

Their lighthearted conversation slowed as they finished their food, settling into a comfortable silence. Sana leaned against the edge of the bed, her head tilted slightly as she admired the skyline from the room’s window. Y/N, meanwhile, shifted nervously, her heart racing. She reached into her bag, her fingers brushing against the small velvet box she’d kept hidden all evening.

Clearing her throat, Y/N finally spoke. “Hey, um… I have something for you.”

Sana turned to her, curious. “What is it?”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Just… open it.” She handed Sana the box with a shy smile, her palms slightly sweaty despite the calm demeanor she tried to project.

Sana’s brows knit together in surprise as she took the box, her fingers gently traced Graff logo on the box, carefully lifting the lid. Her breath hitched when her eyes landed on the delicate diamond necklace nestled inside. The necklace sparkled even under the soft hotel lighting, its intricate floral design exuding timeless elegance.

“Y/N…” Sana’s voice wavered, her fingertips brushing lightly over the diamonds. “This is… it’s stunning. But… this is way too much. I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” Y/N interrupted, her tone gentle yet firm. She shifted closer, taking Sana’s free hand in hers. “Because you’re worth everything to me. This necklace, it’s not just a gift. It’s a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, I’m always thinking of you. You mean more to me than I could ever put into words, and I want you to have something that shows just a fraction of that.”

Sana’s eyes brimmed with tears, her lips quivering as she tried to find the right words. She shook her head softly, a smile breaking through the emotion. “You’re so ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, brushing her thumb across the back of Sana’s hand. “Ridiculous in the best way, I hope.”

“In every way,” Sana whispered, her voice barely audible as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Y/N’s.

Y/N gently took the necklace from the box and moved behind Sana, her fingers deftly clasping it around her neck. The cool weight of the diamonds settled against Sana’s collarbone, glinting softly in the light. Y/N adjusted it slightly, leaning back to admire how it looked.

“Perfect,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with warmth.

Sana turned around slowly, her face inches from Y/N’s. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice hushed. “But you… you’re the one who makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her. “I think that makes two of us.”

Without another word, Sana leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, unhurried, and filled with all the unspoken love between them. Y/N cupped Sana’s cheek gently, her thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as they shared the quiet moment.

When they finally pulled back, Sana rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder, her fingers tracing absent patterns on Y/N’s arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For tonight. For everything.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her heart swelling with love. “Always.”

Later, as they lay curled up on the bed, Sana’s head resting on Y/N’s shoulder, the necklace caught the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

The soft glow of Sana’s phone illuminated the room as she scrolled through the TWICE group chat, her head nestled comfortably against Y/N’s shoulder. The two of them were snuggled under the blankets, their legs tangled together, exhaustion from the long day settling into their bones. But neither seemed ready to fall asleep just yet.

“Look at this,” Sana murmured, tilting her phone so Y/N could see the screen. The chat was alive with messages, the names of TWICE’s members lighting up with playful banter.

Momo: The way Sana looked at Y/N… iconic. Mina: Her jaw literally dropped. I should’ve recorded it from the stage instead of waiting for fan cams. Nayeon: Sana, if you don’t marry her soon, I’m calling dibs. Jihyo: Nayeon, stop stealing people’s girlfriends! Chaeyoung: Sana, can you ask Y/N to teach us the choreography? She’s a natural. Dahyun: The fans are losing it! Y/N is officially a Twice bias now. Tzuyu: You mean Sana’s bias.

Sana giggled softly, hiding her face in Y/N’s neck. “They’re relentless.”

Y/N laughed, her hand gently running through Sana’s hair. “I think Nayeon unnie might actually be serious about that marriage comment.”

“Not a chance,” Sana said with a playful pout, shifting to look up at Y/N. “You’re mine.”

Y/N smiled down at her, their eyes meeting in the dim light. “Always.”

Sana’s phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t the group chat. It was a flood of notifications from social media. Curiosity piqued, she tapped into one of the trending hashtags. Sure enough, the internet was ablaze with clips and fan edits of Y/N’s surprise appearance at the concert.

Fans gushed about Y/N’s unexpected presence, praising her dedication and swooning over Sana’s emotional reaction. The hashtags #YNSanaSurprise and #BestFriendGoals trended worldwide, with tweets and videos pouring in by the second.

“Look at this one,” Sana said, pointing to a video compilation of their moment on stage, set to a romantic ballad.

The caption read: “Y/N and Sana’s friendship goals… or something more? Either way, we’re obsessed!”

Y/N chuckled. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

Sana locked her phone and placed it on the nightstand, turning her full attention back to Y/N. “Let them guess,” she said softly, her fingers tracing small circles on Y/N’s arm. “As long as we know the truth, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N leaned down to kiss her forehead. “And the truth is, I love you more than anything, Sana. Today, tomorrow, forever.”

Sana’s smile was radiant, even in the dark. “Forever sounds perfect.”

They lay there in comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing together. Outside, the city lights sparkled, a reminder of the bustling world beyond their little sanctuary. But in that moment, there was only them.

As the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink, Y/N tightened her hold on Sana, their bodies wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Their breaths intertwined, their hearts beating as one, creating a silent melody that spoke louder than any words ever could.

No matter what the future held, grueling schedules, endless flights, or the watchful eyes of the world, they knew their love would endure. It wasn’t just a fleeting moment of happiness, but a steady force that grounded them, a light they could always turn to even on the darkest days.

Y/N placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sana’s head, her voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the morning. “We’ll take on everything together, no matter what. You and me, always.”

Sana stirred slightly, her lips curving into a small, sleepy smile as she murmured back, “Always.”

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