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aurorawritestoescape · 5 months ago

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THE OTHER BROTHER

Johnny Miller (Joel’s twin) x f!reader | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re in love with your neighbor Joel but he doesn’t notice you. After another failure to get his attention, someone unexpected offers their help - Joel’s twin brother, Johnny.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, twin au, age gap (Joel and Johnny are in their 30s, reader is in her early 20s), pining, unrequited love, heartbreak, hurt/comfort/hurt/comfort?, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft Johnny, praise kink, size kink, f!oral, breast play, unprotected piv (wrap it up), belly bulge, aftercare, kinda hopeful ending. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a dress.

Word count: 7,6 k

A/n: Kate, are Joel and Tommy not enough for you?! Nope, I need one more Miller bro!! I was inspired by Aly’s/ @iamasaddie post and Mina’s / @evolnoomym comment💕💕 Idk whose edit it is, lmk if you do, so I could send my kudos. That edit did something to me. Hope y’all will like the story!💖 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for betaing💋 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You walked into Joel’s backyard with hope, carrying you on its wings, and excitement, twisting your stomach. A cute summer dress, open sandals, accessories— everything had been planned out and thought over lots of times beforehand. It was your chance to get him to notice you, to finally see you as a woman and not only as his neighbors’ daughter.

You had attended Joel’s barbecues every summer since a few years back when your family had moved on that street. Almost instantly you had fallen in love with your middle aged neighbor Joel. He was handsome, funny, polite, very charming and on top of everything a single parent. Joel seemed to be a wonderful father. You weren’t friends with Sarah, but it wasn’t hard to notice the way they connected. They had that heartwarming father-daughter bond that you and your dad for some reason had never had.

You couldn’t think of anyone else but him. You had thought that leaving for college might have helped but it hadn’t. No one could compare to the perfect Joel Miller. Unfortunately you were just a girl for him. He was always polite and warm but his gaze would always slide over you. You had been crying and yearning for his love for years but it had felt as unreachable as the stars over your head. Unattainable dream.

Thinking that you had nothing to lose, you decided to try your luck once more. You had come back home for a summer break, and after a long time away from your parents you felt mature and confident enough to make Joel notice you. So you stepped into his backyard with a set goal in your mind—to win Joel Miller’s heart.

You found your parents among the other guests and joined them, before searching the backyard for a pair of beautiful brown eyes. Of course Joel was handling the grill. Butterflies in your stomach swirled in excitement, your heartbeat increased but the initial joy of seeing the man of your dreams evaporated instantly, when you noticed that he wasn't alone. His strong arm was wrapped around a waist of a beautiful woman. She was laughing and talking to him, and when Joel leaned down to gently kiss her lips, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What's wrong, honey?"

You tried to control your emotions when you heard your mom's voice but it was next to impossible. Upcoming tears squeezed your throat, your lower lip began trembling.

You shook your head and hastily turned away from the sight that set your butterflies on fire - the love of your life was kissing another woman.

“I’m ok,” you lied. “just something in my eye.”

You tried to cover your tears with your hand, and your mom stepped up closer to you, about to offer help but suddenly you heard a deep voice to your right.

“Hey. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Wetness was coating your eyes, distorting your sight, and you barely glanced at the man, who came up to your parents and you, and mumbled,

“Excuse me... I need…need to use the bathroom.”

You rushed away, your parents calling after you but you didn’t stop. You were full on crying.

You ran through Joel’s kitchen and hall and rushed to your house.

You were walking up the stairs of the porch when you heard someone shout behind you,

“Hey, wait!”

You turned around, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, and what you saw made your jaw drop. Or rather who you saw.

It was Joel. At least you thought so at first. The man looked exactly like your crush but he was dressed differently— Joel whom you had seen five minutes ago was wearing a dark tee while his doppelganger had a plaid green shirt on with a white tee underneath. But the most striking difference was his hair- he had a short buzz cut contrary to Joel’s dark curls. His hair was lighter than his twin’s, just like his eyes.

The stranger came up to you slowly, his expression full of concern and sympathy. You were so flabbergasted that you forgot to hide your reddened eyes and wet face and were staring at the man with your mouth agape.

“I’m Johnny. Joel’s brother. I wanted to make sure ya fine.”

You continued staring at the man, completely lost for words and he talked again,

“I’m his twin brother,�� he added, noticing your surprise. “I guess he doesn’t talk much about me, huh?” The stranger smiled as you shook your head.

“Wanna sit down?”

He motioned to the porch bench and you should have probably said ‘no’ and gone to your room to cry your eyes out but a few last minutes were so surreal and emotional that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You nodded. The man followed you there, took a seat at a respectable distance from you, his body turned to you slightly. You were staring at your hands, not sure what to talk about with your new acquaintance.

For a few moments you two were sitting in silence until you remembered the way Joel had been looking at the woman and a pathetic sob crawled up your throat.

“I don’t like her either,” Johnny said and your teary eyes snapped up at him.

“Hm?”

“His new girl. Too bossy. I’m not a fan.”

“I -I don’t… ’don’t like her’. I don’t know her at all,” you croaked.

“Yeah, but you like him, right?”

Your stomach dropped and you faked an awkward laugh, shaking your head.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Quit lyin’, girl. I’m not dumb. I saw you waltz in there with a happy smile and then when you saw them...Damn, poor thing. Unless you’re in love with her but—,” he chuckled and you hastily shook your head again, waving your hands in protest.

“I don’t love him, oh my god!”

“Ok, ok. Keep denyin’ it. You can watch him get married and have a bunch of kids then.”

When you heard his words your heart froze and, not being able to hide your feelings, you broke into tears, covering your face with your hands.

“Fuck.” The man immediately scooted closer to you and placed his arm around your shoulders.

“’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been harsh. Maybe I’m a fool and you just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“No, no, you’re right. I do! I do love him,” you confessed in between sobs.

For a few moments you were crying and Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big hand until he spoke softly,

“You seem like a nice girl. Beautiful, sweet. Have you tried makin‘ him interested?”

You raised your teary eyes at the man and for some weird reason you admitted to him that you had fallen in love with Joel a long time ago but he had never noticed you.

“My brother sounds like an idiot. Look at you. You’re hot, baby.”

You smiled and dropped your eyes.

“And your smile is fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You felt warmth spread in your belly when the man put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up to face him.

You looked at him attentively, taking in every feature of his familiar yet novice face, and noticed that he was as handsome as Joel. His skin was more tan and his eyes were lighter, a mixture of hazel and green, and your heart fluttered at his beauty.

“Do you wanna get ‘im?”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Get him?”

“Yeah. First you need to make him notice you.”

“But he has a girlfriend,” you mumbled with defeat ringing in your words.

“So? She ain’t his wife. He can dump her whenever.”

You were quiet.

“Listen. I can get you into this house. Into his life. He’ll see you often and I bet he’ll notice the fuck out of such a hottie.”

You felt your cheeks heat up when you glanced at him and asked,

“How would you do that?”

The man winked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Let’s pretend that you and I are going out.”

You giggled, thinking it was a joke, but Johnny kept talking and you realized that he was absolutely serious.

“I’m stayin’ with him right now. We’ll spend a lot of time in his house. He’ll notice you and then fall in love with you in no time.”

“I’m not sure he will. I’m too shy,” you admitted.

“He loves shy girls. And even if you ain’t very talkative. Damn, look at you. You’re hot. And I’ll wingman the fuck out of you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Brothers share everything. Like, “Bro, yesterday she rocked my world. Her mouth’s heaven. And then she rode me! Damn, she’s the best I ever had. See?”

You were blinking at him with an open mouth and burning up cheeks. When you heard his filthy words you couldn’t help but gush into your panties. Johnny didn’t seem to hold back.

“He’ll be hard over you immediately.”

You furrowed your brows and asked,

“But isn’t there a bro code or something? that you can’t date your brothers’ ex girlfriends?”

“Nah, we don’t follow that.” Johnny waved away your concerns with his big hand. “We dated the same girls all the time in school. What’s good for me’s good for him, right?”

You didn’t know what to think. Johnny's idea was crazy but all of his arguments made a lot of sense. And you were desperate.

“Ok. We can try I guess,” you said, nervously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Fuck yeah we can!”

He gave you a charming smile and you smiled back, feeling a little better.

“But my parents can’t know, ok? I’ll tell them I’m with friends.”

“No problem. It’s fake anyway so no reason to make ‘em worry. But—,” he paused, his expression turning serious, — If we want it to work, we need to spend time together beforehand. It’ll help you to get comfortable around me, yeah? to make it believable.”

You nodded, trying to understand what he meant by ‘spend time’.

“Wanna do it now? Let’s hang out in your room. For some time.”

“Aren’t they gonna look for you?” You asked, glancing back at Joel’s house.

“I’m a big boy, baby, I don’t need to tell anyone where I’m goin’.” Johnny replied with a wink.

“Oh yeah, right.”

You got up and headed to the door. Your accomplice followed you, and when you were walking upstairs, you turned to him.

“Johnny, if my parents come early, they can’t see you ok?”

“No problem, I’ll hide in a closet,” he chuckled and gave you another wink.

When you entered your bedroom, Johnny looked around and took his flannel off. He was standing in the middle of your room, white tee stretched over his broad chest, his muscles bulging out of the short sleeves. He rolled them up, exposing more of his arms, and you swallowed loudly. He was bigger than Joel and in your small room he looked so huge and tall, that you felt your core burn.

“Cosy,” Johnny said, walking to your bed and plopped on it unceremoniously. He leaned his back against the headboard, his booted feet hanging off the edge. You were staring at him awkwardly, not knowing if you should sit next to him. Getting on the bed with practically a stranger was not something you could do easily.

So you sat down on a chair by your desk.

"Nah-uh. Get over ‘ere, bunny." He shook his head and patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Ehm... I don't know."

"Jesus, I don't bite. You need to get used to bein’ close to me. Joel isn't stupid. He'll sense that something's fishy if you're skittish like that."

You couldn't deny that he was right. So you came up to the other side of the bed and settled next to him.

"Wanna tell me a bit about yourself, beautiful?" he asked, flashing you a charming smile.

You felt your cheeks burn but after a moment of hesitation, you began telling him about your hobbies, your friends and your plans after graduation. He didn't interrupt you. He asked a few questions but mostly he was just nodding, listening to you attentively. A few times his gaze slid down to your lips, your cleavage, your naked legs, crossed at the ankles.

His eyes were leaving a pleasant heat in their wake until your whole body lit up and a constant warmth settled between your legs. Your pussy was tingling only from you being next to your new acquaintance, hearing his scent, masculine and enticing, seeing him smile at your words. His hazel eyes were getting darker the longer you talked, the more he looked at you.

“What about you, Johnny? What do you do?” You asked, wishing to learn more about the man you were about to fake date.

He averted his eyes and rubbed his scruffy cheek.

”It’s complicated, baby. I’d tell you if you were my girlfriend. For real I mean. But —.” He looked at you with an apologetic smile.

“Oh,” is all you could say in return, blinking at him.

“I can tell you that I travel a lot. ‘s prolly why we’ve never met. I can’t often visit Joel and Sarah.”

It got silent in the room for a moment except for the sound of birds’ chirping, coming through an open window.

“Do you wanna watch something?“ you asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Yeah, ‘k.” Johnny took his boots off and placed his feet on the bed. You marveled at how quickly he seemed to get comfortable but decided that he was just that easy-going.

You took your laptop and asked what he wanted to watch.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment and your chest fluttered.

”We can watch The Office. It always relaxes me.”

“Yeah, I really wanna see you relaxed, bunny,” he smirked and you stuck your tongue out at him.

A few minutes later you were on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching a random episode of the Office that you put on.

Soon Johnny slid down the bedspread and placed his head on your pillow.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you down with him.

You didn’t know how and why you let him but soon his hand was wrapped around your shoulder and your head was resting on his broad chest.

He was warm and big and you felt your panties dampen more.

“I like that guy,” he commented after some time of watching.

“Ryan? He’s kind of a douche,” you giggled.

“Really?” Johnny hummed.

You continued watching the show, sometimes chuckling from time to time. Once Johnny absentmindedly bucked his hips up and your gaze involuntarily landed on a prominent bulge in his jeans. And then a few times on purpose.

Getting too turned on, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down the fire in your core. Unfortunately it got worse as without your eyesight your whole being concentrated on the strong arm resting heavily on you, on Johnny's scent, his steady, deep breathing.

“Baby?”

Johnny’s voice took you out of your horny trance and you hummed feeling your cheeks burn.

“Can you tell me something?”

“Yes?”

He sat up and you did the same, looking at him with confusion, trying to hide your arousal.

“Can you close your eyes and tell me if my voice is similar to Joel’s? People always answer differently. I wanna know what you think.”

You raised your brows.

“I can tell you right now. It’s similar. Very.”

“No, close your eyes, listen to it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and did what he asked, a little smile dancing on your lips.

“Hey, baby. You're very beautiful.” You smiled wider when you heard his gruff voice, squealing inside at the compliment.

”Thank you, Joel,” you laughed and added, “You sound just like him.” You opened your eyes but Johnny shook his head, motioning for you to shut them again. You did and heard the man sigh deeply.

“Ya know. I’ve been such a fool. I didn’t notice you before but now I see. How gorgeous you are. Crazy hot.”

Your smile vanished as you were listening to him, eyes closed, chewing on your lip. You had dreamed of hearing those words for such a long time that your heart could burst out of your chest at the moment.

“You have a girlfriend, Joel,” you whispered, playing along.

”She’s a mistake. Wish you could forgive me for not tellin’ you all this sooner… Wish I could rip this pretty dress off you and make you scream my name right now.”

Your breath hitched and a new surge of wetness made you squirm in your place.

“Wish I could kiss you right now.”

You instinctively wetted your lips, hearing his words, and the next second Johnny pressed his mouth to yours. You tensed up at first but in a second your body melted at the soft touch. Not opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly to the side and parted your lips, inviting him in. Immediately Johnny’s tongue slipped inside and brushed yours, gently at first but then more assertively. He was swallowing your pleasured whimpers again and again as you were making out.

”Johnny, I can’t,” you murmured, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

You glanced at him and his expression took your breath away. He looked like he was ready to pounce on you any second. His eyes were burning with desire, lips glistened with your saliva and his broad chest was heaving, dangerously close to ripping his tee.

He visibly tried to calm himself down— he took a deep breath and then placed your hand between his.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.” His expression softened as his eyes were locked with yours.

“No, don’t be. It was nice but … but…”

You struggled to continue, the words got stuck in your throat.

Johnny’s eyes were darting between yours, as he was patiently waiting for you to continue.

Then you whispered, your voice barely audible, gaze downcast, “I’m a virgin.”

You expected any reaction but not the one he gave you.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes snapped up at him and tears immediately welled up in your eyes. Johnny looked straight up disappointed. He pulled away from you and your sob broke the icy silence in the room. You were always terrified to admit it to people, especially to men, and at that moment your worst nightmare was coming true.

“‘s bad,” Johnny mumbled, still not looking at you. “Shit.”

You were hurt but your pain quickly turned into anger.

“Please leave!”

As if finally having noticed your distress, Johnny turned to you, shaking his head.

“Oh fuck, no, no, I don’t mind. Shit. I think— it’s great—for whatever reason you—no. It’s Joel, baby.”

“What? What about Joel?” you asked, feeling a little better, when he took your hands in his and answered,

”He’s not a fan of virgins. Never was. He told me many times he didn’t want the responsibility of bein’ someone’s first.”

“Why?” You felt your heart shuttering again.

“Don’t know,” Johnny shrugged, ”I guess he prefers someone more experienced. Once he broke up with a girl when he found out she was a virgin.”

Now it was your turn to curse.

“Fuck.” You probably looked absolutely defeated and Johnny rapidly wrapped his arm around you to pull you to his torso.

You started silently crying on his shoulder, having realized that Joel would never love you, would never even give you a chance.

Johnny was rubbing your arm with his big warm hand while you were soaking his white tee with tears, until he said,

“You know, it’s not a big deal.”

You sniffed and sat up straight.

“What do you mean not a big deal?” your voice was shaky and small. “You’ve just said he hates virgins.”

Johnny lifted his hand to wipe your wet face with his thick fingers.

“Kinda easy to lose it, beautiful. Your v card.”

“No, it’s not. I wanted Joel to— to do it. I don’t want anyone else.”

You were pouting your lips, eyes reddened and teary staring at the man sitting close to you. In your blurry vision he looked even more like Joel.

”I can help you, bunny,” Johnny offered with a lopsided smile. He tilted his head to the side and waited for your reaction.

You swallowed loudly when you heard him and turned away. You couldn’t deny that Johnny was hot, your soaked panties were a good evidence of your desire for him but how could you do it with a man you had just met. Who wasn’t Joel.

Joel who had a girlfriend.

Joel who didn’t want to deal with virgins.

Joel who never noticed you.

You looked back at the twin brother of the man you loved and asked,

“Would you really do it for me?”

Johnny cleared his throat.

“Ehm… yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re hot,” he said it so matter of fact-ly that it sounded sincere and you believed that he really wanted to help.

“Ok, good,” you said, with an air of uncertainty. “We can try but maybe not today, ok? We’ve just met,” you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” Johnny smirked and then quickly added, “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

Not looking at the man you nodded.

“Want me to do it again?”

His question made your heart skip a beat. You had felt amazing when he had kissed you, your body reacted to him in a wonderful way and, after glancing up at his plush lips, you nodded the second time.

Johnny gently cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His lips began caressing yours, your tongues tangled and, not breaking the kiss, you scooted closer to him on the bed. He read your intentions and pulled you into his big strong arms. His hand snaked up to the back of your head, the other was pressed to your lower back, keeping you close, as you were tasting him, feeling his heart thump against your chest. You were floating.

Soon his mouth slithered to your jaw and he nibbled on your skin there while his hands began roaming your body, gliding over your back, your arms until he squeezed your ass with his palms and you moaned into his mouth.

“Oh, baby, ya fuckin’ hot,” he groaned and you felt his lips suck a hickey into your neck while his hand snaked under your skirt. He engulfed your whole asscheek with his palm and your thin lacy panties easily let the heat of his skin seep through. You whimpered when the pads of his fingers glided down to your clothed pussy. Just one touch was enough for your brain to panic and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry, Johnny, it’s too much.”

You wanted to get off the bed, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but he grabbed you by the hand.

“Don’t leave. Please. Sorry, bunny. I went in too fast.“

You sat down on your heels, catching your breath and trying to calm down your foggy mind and burning up body.

“Let’s cuddle. C’mon. Jus’ wanna hold you.”

He returned your laptop to your desk and lay down on the bed that now seemed too small for his huge body. It made the whole situation even hotter.

A fear of the unknown and an immense desire were fighting in your heart, and you let the latter win, assuring yourself that you were just going to get used to him hugging you, so you could get close to Joel later.

That’s why you let him wrap his strong arms around you, let his face be inches from yours, let his hot breath fan your lips, let his scent intoxicate you. You were lying in his embrace for just a few moments before his lips found yours, and you didn’t fight it anymore, you welcomed their warmth.

He was more careful that time, slowly pulling you close to his body, but his hands didn’t wander. What was making you melt was his quiet words, seeping into your ears between kisses, barely audible through your soft whimpers, smacking of the lips and his breathing.

“Ya taste like honey—beautiful girl—Joel’s fuckin’ lucky—so pretty—could eat you whole, baby.”

Contrary to him, you were getting bolder and sent your hands roam his broad back, squeeze his masculine arms, glide over the slopes of his shoulders and then run through his short hair that pleasantly tickled your palms.

It was a matter of time before he slowly pushed you on your back and began kissing your neck. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving him more access and he happily growled against your heated skin.

“Good girl,” you heard his praise and the ache of your pussy made you press your thighs together.

“Oh, Joe…Johnny,” you started and then hastily corrected yourself.

Johnny stopped nibbling on your collarbone and your heart froze, expecting him to get angry, but the man smiled at you.

“You can call me Joel, beautiful… to practice, yeah? Soon he’s gonna be the one kissin’ you.”

The suggestion sounded insane but in your aroused, overwhelmed with feelings state you let yourself imagine the man you loved caressing you with his lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and it was so easy to fantasize about Joel’s hand holding your hip and pressing you into the mattress, Joel’s lips peppering kisses along your neck and then going down, reaching the plush of your cleavage. Drowning in your fantasy you missed the moment Johnny’s chin pushed your neckline down, exposing more of your breasts. You rubbed your thighs against each other, chasing pressure on your tingling pussy, as his palm started kneading your tit over the fabric.

“Yeah, Joel,” you breathed out and didn’t stop yourself that time, fully succumbing to the want of your heart and body.

Your mind turned off completely, you were so gone in pleasure, that when you finally opened your eyes, to your surprise you saw Johnny’s hot tongue swirl around your pebbled nipple. A loud moan flew out of your parted lips as your hazy gaze took in the sight of your dress and bra pulled down and the man caressing your nipples, alternating between sucking and licking them, while your naked chest was heaving under his ministrations.

With his mouth almost engulfing your whole breast, Johnny glanced up at you and his blown out lustful eyes sent another bolt of arousal through your core.

“Johnny, please,” was all you could muster. He hummed into your tit before parting from it and searching for your glossy eyes.

“Do you like it when I do this?” He asked, his breath hitting your saliva coated skin, your nipples as hard as diamonds now. You mumbled a weak ’yeah’..

“Good. And have you ever had your pussy kissed, beautiful?”

You bit your lip, almost reaching your high just from hearing the question.

“No,” you whispered back and Johnny shot you a mysterious smile.

“Can I be the first, baby?”

“I— I don’t know,” you said hesitantly.

“C’mon, bunny. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna feel real good?”

The act seemed to you so intimate and vulnerable, just an idea of it made you anxious.

“Lil scared bunny,” he smiled and then wrapped his fingers around your naked breast, holding it in his hand. “Look.”

A second later his lips brushed your nipple again, his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Imagine the nipple is your little clit. I’ll jus’ lick it like that.”

His tongue stroked it, covering the sensitive bud in his saliva.

“Then I’ll suck on it like this.”

Johnny took it into his mouth and applied gentle suction to it.

“I’ll make you come so hard like that. It’s just another type of kissing, baby.”

You’ve never been turned on more than at that moment so after a few moments of consideration you shoved your fears away and whimpered,

“Ok.”

“Good girl.”

You hole clenched when you heard his praise. Johnny pulled the hem of his tee up and took it off.

Your breath hitched when you saw his strong chest and soft belly with a happy trail that led under his jeans. Johnny casually glided his hand over his strong torso and you bit your lip, not letting out another needy whimper.

“‘s getting too hot,” he mumbled and lay down between your thighs. His legs were hanging off the bed and you marveled at the muscles, flexing in his back and shoulders. You wondered if Joel’s body was as gorgeous as his twin brother’s. Of course it was, you thought.

The dress was still covering you and after a nod from you, Johnny lifted your skirt. Your hips flew up as if by themselves when he started sliding your panties off.

”Fuck, baby, this is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen,” his soft voice praised you as you were lying in front of him, almost naked and trembling with nerves.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“Can’t wait to taste you.”

He spread your folds with his index finger and a thumb while his shoulders were keeping your thighs wider apart. Your pussy opened up to him like an offering.

“Pretty flower,” he commented and immediately did what he’d promised.

He licked your hardened clit, drawing a pathetic moan from you, and then lapped at it a few times. The sensations you were feeling were incomparable to anything you’d ever experienced. Your hand darted to your naked breasts and you began twitching your nipples.

“Fuck, yeah,” he mumbled against your sex and the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

Johnny smiled, having noticed your reaction, and began sucking on your bud, massaging it between his lips.

“Ahhh—oh my god—oh yeah,” was all you could mutter. When you were on the brink of ecstasy, his tongue slid down and snuck into your virginal hole. He began fucking you with it, spreading your walls with his flattened tongue and your needy screams, moans and whimpers filled the bedroom. You were sure that if someone was passing by your house, they’d hear the sounds of your pleasure but your mind was switched off, only the bliss between your legs and the man giving it to you mattered at that moment.

You tried to grab his hair but it was too short to hold on to so your palm pressed onto the back of his head as you were greedily holding Johnny's mouth against your pussy.

“Fuckin’ delicious. Can’t believe I’m first.”

With your glossed over gaze you watched him return his tongue to your throbbing clit and stroke it a few times, until your eyes rolled back and a hard orgasm exploded like fireworks inside your core, sending hot waves of euphoria through your body.

Johnny didn’t stop lapping at you until you tried to close your legs, the ache of overstimulation burning you.

He sat up and wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand, the other hand splayed over your thigh, gently rubbing it.

“Look at you, beautiful. Came hard for me, huh? Jus’ like I promised.”

He smiled at you, visibly pleased with your almost drunk post-orgasmic state. Your tits were out and slightly pushed up by the neckline, nipples puffy from his and your caress, your summer dress bunched up around your waist, your glistening pussy fully on display.

While your eyes were admiring the beauty of his features, so similar to Joel’s, you failed to notice his hands unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

Your gaze darted to the lower part of his body when you spotted a movement there— his hard cock bobbing over your naked cunt.

It was long, quite thick, with a fat tip that was oozing clear precum. He stroked the shaft a couple of times with his big hand and grunted, “ya wanna make me feel good too, baby?”

As if by an instinct your thighs opened up wider, inviting him inside you, your mind clouded by lust.

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Nah, baby, call me Joel,” he gruffed as he bent down, planted his hands on the bed, next to your shoulders and added, ”I know you wanna. And I ain’t against role playing.”

“Really?”

“Sure, bunny.”

It was wrong. And so hot at the same time. You giggled, sound strained by the nerves, twisting your stomach. He was big and you had never imagined your first time happening with a man you’d just met. Yet your pussy was screaming to be pierced with a cock. His cock. You’d never been turned on that much in your life and you gave in to the temptation without a second thought.

His lips found yours at the same time his tip nudged your hole, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the head of his cock pushed assertively into you.

He swallowed your whine and paused, hovering over your face, your eyes locked.

“Shit, ya tight. But we can do it, yeah, bunny?”

”It hurts, Johnny.”

“Shhh, not Johnny, remember? C’mon, it’ll help you relax.”

“Joel.”

“Yeah, good girl.”

As if the name of the man you loved was magical, you walls relaxed a little, letting in a few inches of his brother’s manhood.

Johnny planted a light kiss on your lips and you felt his thumb graze your clit before he began gently rubbing it.

“Close your eyes, beautiful, let my cock taste your sweet cunt.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moaned, fully lost in the fantasy, and squeezed your eyelids shut.

“Now breathe. Big breaths, bunny.”

He was whispering praise into your ear, distracting you from the dull pain of the stretch, slowly pushing his length in while his thumb was swirling around your clit.

“Like that, beautiful—yeah, tight little cunt— the tip’s in—good, so good—a little more, baby—my good girl—fuck, it’s almost in—-YEAHHH..”

His triumphant growl mixed with your loud moan when his balls hit your ass and you felt full like never before.

As soon as he sheathed his manhood inside your warm tight cunt, your lips locked, and while your tongues were sliding against each other, you were trying to get used to the feeling of something so long and thick stuffed inside you.

Your walls soon accommodated his cock and the pain slowly dissipated, giving way to pleasure.

“Ima be gentle, baby,” Johnny promised, after breaking the kiss, and languidly rolled his hips into yours. The sensation of his big member moving inside your tight channel made you tilt your head back into the pillow and open your lips in a silent moan.

He didn’t lie. With one hand planted on the bed, the other playing with your clit, he was sliding his cock in and out of your sopping pussy, slowly but surely bringing you closer to the peak. Your greedy hands danced over the slopes of his strong chest, fingers digging into his biceps, nails leaving white marks on his tan skin.

“Yes, Joel—please—so good, Joel,” you were whispering, letting your broken heart believe that the man you had always dreamed about was between your legs at that moment.

Johnny’s greedy eyes couldn’t get enough of you- your lustful expression, your tits bouncing with each thrust, your folds, spread around his base.

“Ya have the wettest pussy, baby. Soakin’ me so good. Look at all that cream.”

With hazy eyes you watched him swipe his thumb over the base of his cock, coated in your pearly juices, and bring it to his lips. He took the finger in his mouth and hummed in pleasure.

Your tongue slid over your lower lip and, taking it as an invitation, Johnny kissed you, sharing the taste of your desire.

You were melting under his unhurried thrusts, but your core needed more and, too shy to ask for it, you began meeting his hips halfway, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

“Mmm, bunny wants more?” Johnny smirked into a corner of your lips.

“Yes, Joh—Joel, please.”

“Of course, beautiful. Let’s make this sweet pussy scream.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he sat up and pulled your hips to himself. You slid one the bed with a gasp and he chuckled before thrusting in harder.

His tip hit your cervix and you grasped the sheets with a moan.

“Hurts, baby?”

“A little.”

He shook his head, grabbed a spare pillow and, after lifting your hips, placed it under your ass.

“Now?” he asked as he pulled his cock out to the tip and then shoved it back inside.

You whimpered when his cock kissed something delicious inside you and the sensation made you clench around his stiff member.

“Like that, yes, yes,” you mumbled, sounding drunk, eyes set on the place where you were joined.

Johnny smiled and rolled his hips again, the stroke hard and deep, and then again and again until he was rutting into you while you were turning into a whimpering, cock-dumb mess.

When he tilted his hips up and drilled his manhood into your cunt, you both saw a bulge appear in your belly and you gasped at the sight. You’d never seen anything like it.

Not stopping, Johnny placed his palm over the lump and tilted his head, watching and feeling his cock move under your skin.

“Fuck, ‘s hot.” He looked mesmerized. “You’re hot, bunny. Shit, gonna come soon. Do it with me.”

His thumb continued dancing on your clit and it took just a few strokes for you to explode. Your pulsating pussy was flattering around his manhood, nerves ablaze, while your juices flooded him inside your core, soaking his hot, soft skin, stretched over his throbbing cock. It was the hardest, most pleasant orgasm of your life and the warmth between your legs spread out, filling your heart with gratitude and affection.

Johnny was unaware of your inner feelings, and as soon as your pussy relaxed around him, he pulled his cock out and after a couple of pumps, started painting your pussy and belly with pearly white ropes of his thick cum.

You watched his balls draw up, his slit push out the load like you’d never seen anything more beautiful. Endorphins in your blood made you feel like you were floating, your limbs pleasantly tingling, and when your eyes met, you gave Johnny a tired, satisfied smile.

He answered it with his lopsided one and plopped on the bed next to you. You were catching your breath for some time until he tucked his softening cock into his jeans, got up and went to the bathroom.

You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle and, when he returned, he helped you to clean up with a wet towel.

“I reckon you ain’t on the pill,” he mumbled, wiping the cum off your skin.

“No. I will be,” you said, glancing up at him but his eyes were set on the task.

When he was done, you reached for him.

“Wanna cuddle?”

To your disappointment Johnny shook his head, and grabbed his tee off the floor.

“Need to go, bunny. I have a thing.”

You sat up, fixing your wrinkled dress, covering yourself up.

“Ok.” Your voice, small and sad, made him pause and he stepped up to the bed and bent down, reaching for you.

His hand cupped your heated cheek and he kissed you before speaking.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. At Joel’s.”

You beamed at him, nodding eagerly.

Before leaving he wrote his number on a note and gave you a wink.

“Wear something hot for Joel. And for me.”

You barely slept that night— the memory of your first sex was playing on a loop in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt Johnny’s hands on your body, his cock stretching you, and your pussy ached for him again. You made yourself come twice with your fingers and when the sun was already breaking through the inky sky, only then you fell asleep.

The next day you woke up early and texted Johnny ‘good morning’. He didn’t reply and you thought he must be still sleeping. So you busied yourself with preparations for the dinner— choosing the clothes to wear, makeup, accessories. You wanted to look casual but hot like Johnny had asked you. You decided on a pair of tight jeans and a sexy top and went to the kitchen.

You lied to your parents that in the evening you were meeting a friend. Like always after any party your mom was spilling out all the gossip she’d gathered the day before. Both you and your dad just hummed here and there, not really interested in the boring rumors but suddenly your ears perked up when she mentioned Joel’s twin brother.

”I can’t believe that man. No shame at all.”

She noticed that she finally had your active attention and her eyes lit up.

“What’s wrong with Johnny?” you asked, while fear was creeping up in your chest.

“He’s such a deadbeat brother. Poor Joel.”

It seemed like you stopped breathing altogether, listening to your mother talk about the man who had taken your virginity the day before. She continued,

“Johnny visits him once a year, borrows money and vanishes until the next time he needs it. Joel’s a single father! Working man! And that leach uses his kindness and generosity. Ugh!”

“How do you know all that?” you asked, grasping at the last straw of hope that it was a lie, misunderstanding, baseless rumour.

“Dear, everyone knows that,” your mother laughed and started talking about the other neighbor who had told her and you didn’t hear her anymore. Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

You excused yourself and ran to your room.

‘He vanishes’—the words of your mother were ringing in your head, your stomach being twisted by nerves.

You plopped on your bed and called Johnny. He didn’t pick up. You decided to wait. 5 min later you called him again. Nothing.

In three hours you were a nervous mess. You had cried several times, had sent dozens of messages that were unanswered and unread, had called him more times that you wished to admit but hadn’t heard his voice once.

That phone number was the only thing that he had left you, yet you realized that there was another option.

You put on the clothes you’d prepared for the dinner, rinsed your face off your tears as well as you could and headed to Joel’s.

When you knocked on the door, you feared that no one would answer. The uncertainty was suffocating you and your breathing was heavy. All you wished for was to get answers - did the man who had taken your virginity lie to you? Did he use you like a fuck toy and vanished? Was his attention to you just a means to get into your panties?

You were chewing nervously on your lower lip when Joel opened the door. For a second you thought it was Johnny, so much they looked alike but a little ray of hope dissipated when you saw the man’s soft curls.

”Hey, sweetheart,” Joel greeted you, visibly confused by your visit.

You cleared your throat and mumbled,

“Hello. Could I see Johnny?”

Joel opened his mouth and closed it before mumbling,

“Fuck.”

Your heart fell in your stomach when you saw him pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

“Sweetheart. Excuse me but— Was he with you yesterday?”

You nodded and he cursed again.

“He told me— he—,” Joel paused, his expression sad and apologetic. ”I’m so sorry, sweetie, but he left this morning. I don’t know what he told you but—.”

He shook his head, looking physically pained to be telling you that.

When all your fears were proven right, you couldn’t keep your despair inside anymore. Tears burst out of your eyes as you were nodding at Joel’s words like everything was alright. Like you weren’t hurt. The tears flowed so much that you barely could see Joel through the wetness in your eyes.

Joel placed his warm hand on your shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, come inside.”

When you asked Joel about Johnny, he immediately understood that you were the girl he had slept with the previous night. Johnny had bragged about fucking the hottest chick in the neighborhood.

Joel couldn’t believe it had been you, so shy and sweet, he’d never expected Johnny to get his hands on someone so pure and lovely.

He felt horrible for letting his vagabond brother into his home again, and subsequently into your life. When you were sitting in his kitchen, crying quietly, he wanted to comfort you so badly his heart hurt. He placed a hot cup of tea in front of you and you thanked him between sobs. A pang of guilt shot through his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, stepping up to you. He took your hands in his and when you lifted your face and gave him a little smile, your gorgeous eyes full of tears, Joel felt something stir in his heart. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. It made his breath hitch for a moment.

Even with your face streaked with tears you were so damn beautiful.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed how beautiful you were?

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

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svt-luna · 3 months ago

Text

ʚིᵋ ⋆ WEVERSE LIVE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── 241012: Hello!

synopsis: Catch up with Luna on her Weverse live after their ‘Right Here’ opening concert in Goyang.

this live happens right after the ‘Right Here’ day 1 concert in Goyang so if you haven’t already, please read my one-shot Him and I before this so that you’d understand some of the references made 💖

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ weverse lives

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

Luna settled back on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she cradled her phone in one hand, waiting for her Weverse Live to connect.

The soft glow from the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the remnants of her stage makeup— subtle glitters dusted across her cheekbones and a touch of shimmer on her eyelids. Her hair was loosely tied in a messy bun, with a few stray wisps framing her face, though her bangs had been meticulously smoothed into place. She wore a soft pink hoodie, its oversized fit giving her a cozy, relaxed look, in contrast to the sharp-edged glamour of her stage presence just hours ago.

For a moment, Luna simply stared into the screen, her wide, doe-like eyes scanning the early comments that began trickling in. Her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as she watched the viewer count steadily climb. She sat quietly, occasionally tilting her head and letting her gaze flicker down to read what fans were saying.

The sight of her, still aglow from the post-concert adrenaline but in the warmth of her home, created an air of intimacy that drew fans in.

“Hello,” she greeted softly, her voice gentle, almost a murmur, as if she were speaking to each fan individually. Her gaze shifted back and forth, her eyes following the flood of comments with an almost endearing attentiveness. “I’ll start once there are a few more people here,” she said, her voice calm and sweet as if she were inviting her fans into her living room.

She waved every so often, reading out the occasional fan comment with a quick, “Hello!” or “I love you too!” Her smile brightened as she leaned in closer to the screen, her face filling up more of the frame, making it feel like she was looking each fan in the eye.

The viewer count continued to soar, each passing second adding hundreds more viewers. Within moments, it hit ten thousand, and Luna’s eyes widened in soft amazement.

“Oh, wow! That was fast,” she murmured with a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth briefly before she offered a small wave to the screen. “Hello, everyone! Thank you for joining me… I know it’s late.”

She glanced off to the side, as though checking the time herself, before looking back at her fans, a mixture of warmth and slight concern in her gaze. “I just thought I’d come on here for a little while. I won’t keep you for long, I promise,” she assured them, her voice gentle yet sincere.

“I know you all probably need sleep…” she continued with a soft chuckle, “and you should definitely sleep soon!” She leaned back, glancing at the comment section, watching the flood of messages pour in, her expression growing fonder by the second. “But I just wanted to chat a little. Tonight was…” She paused, a soft, almost dreamy look crossing her face as she searched for the right words, “…tonight was really special.”

Luna’s fingers gently brushed the edge of her phone as she glanced down at the comments flowing in, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. She took a deep breath, the residual energy from the concert still radiating from her. After a moment, she leaned in closer, her doe-like gaze fixating on the comments that flooded her screen.

“Did everyone have fun tonight?” she asked, her voice soft but brimming with enthusiasm. Her lips curled into a gentle smile as she awaited the responses, her fingers unconsciously tracing a pattern along the edge of her pink hoodie. Her gaze darted across the screen, reading each comment with genuine interest.

The responses came pouring in.

“It was amazing, Jiyeon! Thank you for an unforgettable night!”

“You guys really put your all into it! My voice is gone from cheering so much!”

“We had the best time ever! Thank you, Luna! You were beautiful!”

A soft laugh slipped from her lips as she read each comment, her eyes crinkling at the corners with delight. “Ah, thank you,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’m so happy you all enjoyed it. We really worked hard for tonight… it was the first show of the tour, so we wanted to make it extra special for you all.”

Her voice grew tender, almost thoughtful, as she spoke. “It’s such a surreal feeling, you know? I’ve been doing this for years but it never gets old. Standing on that stage and seeing all of you cheering and waving your light sticks… it feels like a dream.”

She paused, her gaze softening as she seemed to replay the concert in her mind. “And even though we were missing a couple of special people tonight… we could still feel all the love and energy from each of you.”

Luna’s eyes returned to the comments, her smile growing wider as she browsed through more.

“‘Luna, you looked so pretty! I couldn’t take my eyes off you!’” She read before laughing, bringing her hand to her mouth as her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh, stop! You’re making me shy,” she replied, her voice playful yet sincere. “But thank you… it means so much to hear that from you all.”

“‘I loved the new songs! You guys totally killed it!’” Luna’s eyes lit up at that, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you! We were so nervous about it… but seeing everyone’s reaction made it all worth it.” She leaned back slightly, letting out a contented sigh. “You guys give us so much strength. Really.”

As she continued to read through the comments, a gentle warmth seemed to settle over her, a comfort that only her fans could provide.

“Thank you so much to everyone who came tonight,” Luna said, her voice softening with emotion. “And to those of you who couldn’t be there in person but watched the livestream… we felt your love too.” She placed a hand over her heart, her expression sincere and full of gratitude. “Every single one of you made tonight possible. Thank you for supporting us, for cheering us on, and for being there through every high and low.”

Luna paused, her gaze still locked onto the screen as she took in the steady stream of love pouring in from her fans. Her voice grew even softer as she added, “We couldn’t do this without you, Carats. You mean everything to us.”

Luna grew quiet, her gaze fixed on the screen as she scrolled through the endless wave of comments. The faint reflection of her phone glimmered in her wide, doe-like eyes, her brows furrowing slightly as she read in silence. The room, save for the occasional faint rustle of her hoodie as she shifted, was still, a comforting contrast to the chaos of the concert just hours ago.

Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but she hesitated, letting her thoughts simmer. Some comments stood out to her as she read.

“Tonight was unforgettable. Thank you, Luna, and thank you, SEVENTEEN!”

“I can’t believe I was there for the first concert of the tour. It was magical!”

“Did everything go okay with that little fire? I was so scared for everyone!”

“The fire during the show made my heart stop, but you all handled it so well. Are you okay?”

Her expression softened as she spotted the last two comments. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her knees up onto the chair and leaned forward slightly, her messy bun bobbing as she began to address the concern. “Oh, about the fire…” she said, her voice quieter but steady, her expression serious yet calm. “I saw some of you mentioning it just now.”

She adjusted her position slightly, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “First of all, let me just say… I’m so glad none of you were hurt. That’s the most important thing to me, to all of us.” Her voice carried a weight of sincerity, her usual lighthearted tone replaced with a calm resolve.

“We didn’t even realize what was happening at first,” she admitted, her brows drawing together slightly as she recalled the moment. “It wasn’t until our staff told us there was a small fire caused by a light fixture that we understood what was going on. Honestly, we were all worried. Even though the staff reassured us right away that it was small and under control… it was still a fire.”

Luna’s voice grew softer, her fingers absently toying with the edge of her hoodie sleeve. “Hearing something like that… it’s scary, you know? The thought that something could’ve gone wrong, that someone could’ve been hurt.” She paused, her eyes flickering back to the screen. “But our crew… they’re incredible. They acted so quickly and handled everything so professionally. I can’t thank them enough for making sure everyone was safe.”

She offered a small, grateful smile as she continued, “And you, Carats… thank you for staying calm and waiting patiently during the delay. I know it wasn’t easy, but your understanding means so much to us.” Her voice softened even further, almost like a whisper, “You all are so amazing, really.”

Her fingers reached up to adjust her bangs, smoothing them down as she exhaled deeply, as if releasing the lingering tension from the memory. “I’m just… really thankful that it wasn’t anything bigger. And I hope you know that your safety is always our top priority.”

The comments began flooding in again, filled with reassurances and love.

“You guys did amazing. No one blames you for the delay!”

“Thank you, Nana, for worrying about us. We’re okay, don’t worry!”

“You guys were literally fire that you set the stage a blaze!!!”

“The crew deserves an award. They handled it so well!”

Luna read each comment, her expression softening further, her shoulders relaxing as she soaked in the support. “Thank you, everyone,” she said quietly, her voice brimming with gratitude. “Really… thank you.”

Luna’s fingers gently tapped the edge of her phone as she read through the flood of comments streaming up her screen. The corners of her mouth lifted faintly as she scanned each line, her eyes sparkling with quiet amusement and fondness. She shifted slightly in her seat, adjusting her position as she focused on a new wave of fan messages.

“The show was amazing, Luna! What was your favorite song to perform tonight?”

“Will you come to Europe soon? We miss you!”

“Luna, which stop on the tour are you most excited about??”

“You were glowing tonight! Thank you for everything!”

Her gaze paused on the third comment, her head tilting slightly as she read it again. A small, thoughtful smile tugged at her lips before she glanced back up at the camera. “Hmm,” she murmured aloud, her voice soft but carrying a playful undertone. “‘Which stop on the tour are you most excited to go to?’”

Luna leaned forward slightly, her arms resting on her knees, and clasped her hands together as she spoke. “Honestly?” She paused, drawing out the word with a teasing tilt of her head. “I don’t think I can pick just one. I mean… it’s hard because every city, every country, has its own vibe, you know? Its own energy.”

Her voice grew more animated as she continued, gesturing lightly with her hands. “Like, one place might feel super lively and loud, while another feels more intimate and warm. They’re all so different but in the best way possible. I think that’s what makes touring so exciting for me.”

Her eyes flickered back down to the comments, briefly scanning them before continuing. “I’m just really excited to perform and to travel in general. Meeting Carats in person, seeing their smiles, hearing their cheers— it’s something that never gets old.” She paused, her gaze softening, and added, “You guys make every city feel special.”

The comments began to flood in again, and her fans responded to her answer with enthusiasm.

“We can’t wait to see you, Luna!”

“Please rest well when you can during the tour!”

“That’s such a Luna answer! We love you!!”

“I hope you feel all of our love no matter where you go!”

Luna chuckled softly, her laugh warm and light as she read the messages. “Ah, you guys are too sweet,” she said, her tone affectionate. “And don’t worry, we’ll make sure to rest whenever we can. The members and I know how important it is to take care of ourselves so we can give you our best on stage.”

She glanced back at the camera, her smile widening. “But seriously, I can’t wait to see you all, no matter where you are. Whether you’re at the concert in person or watching the livestream, just know that we feel your love. And I hope you can feel ours too.”

Luna’s fingers lightly drummed on the table as she leaned forward to get a closer look at the scrolling comments, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to catch specific ones before they disappeared. One, in particular, caught her attention, making her lips curve into a bright, genuine smile.

“Your makeup tonight made you look like a fairy princess!”

Her laughter spilled out, soft and melodic, as she pressed her hands together in delight. “A fairy princess? That’s so sweet!” she exclaimed, her cheeks visibly glowing under the stage makeup she still wore. “Thank you so much for saying that. Honestly, I’ll never get tired of hearing things like this— you guys are so cute. You guys always know how to make me feel special.”

She straightened up a little, her tone turning more animated as she continued. “You know, this is another thing I absolutely love about concerts and my job in general— the dressing up part! Getting to wear gorgeous outfits, experimenting with makeup, and feeling like a different version of myself on stage? It’s so much fun.”

Pausing, Luna giggled, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. “You might not believe this, but I’m actually the girliest girl you’d ever meet. Like, I genuinely get so excited about sparkles, glitter, pretty clothes, and all those things.” She leaned closer to the camera, pointing to the glitter and tiny gems decorating the corners of her eyes. “Look at this!” she said with an amused grin. “My stylists always go all out to make me look pretty for you guys. Don’t you think they’re amazing?”

“They are doing Gods work, Jiyeonie!”

“Your stylists deserve a raise fr.”

“The prettiest with it without makeup.”

“Where do I apply? I don’t know anything about makeup but I’d apply for you, Bae Jiyeon.”

Her doe eyes lit up as she giggled again. “But,” she added with a laugh, “I really do need to remove all of this soon. My skin will yell at me if I keep it on too long.”

Luna tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she explained, “Honestly, I came straight on here to talk to you guys because I was just so excited. I mean, how could I not be? The concert, seeing all of you, and now getting to chat with you— how could I wait?” She laughed, resting her chin in her hand. “But yeah, lowkey… I was also too lazy to take my makeup off first.”

The comments flooded in again.

“Noooo, keep it on for a few minutes. You look so pretty, my fairy princess!”

“Girl, go cleanse your face before you regret it!”

“Relatable! I’m always too tired to remove my makeup after a big day.”

Luna laughed again as she scanned the responses. “Should I take it off now?” she mused aloud, her expression playful. “What do you think? Should I stay like this or just… remove everything right here?”

The fans were quick to chime in.

“Yes! Take it off live!”

“Let’s see the bare-faced Luna!”

“Do it! We’ll wait for you!”

“Okay, okay,” she finally said, laughing and holding her hands up as if surrendering. “I’ll remove it now. Just wait for a few seconds while I grab my makeup remover and stuff from the bathroom.”

She stood up, adjusting her pink hoodie as she turned toward the door. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right back!” She gave the camera a playful wave before disappearing out of frame, the sound of her light footsteps trailing off as she made her way to the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled Luna’s ears as she stepped into the bathroom, its faint echo bouncing off the pristine marble walls. The large space was immaculate, illuminated by warm, ambient lighting that reflected off the mirrors and polished surfaces.

On the far side of the room, behind the frosted glass divider, the shower ran steadily, steam curling upward and blurring the glass. The faint outline of Jeonghan’s form moved within, his arms lifting to rinse his hair under the stream of water.

Luna hummed softly to herself, busying her hands as she grabbed her makeup remover, cotton pads, and a few skincare products from the countertop. Her mind wandered briefly to the live she had left running, thinking of the fans who were probably speculating about what she was doing off-camera. She pulled open a drawer, rummaging for her cleanser when the sound of the shower abruptly stopped, the whooshing of water replaced by the soft rustle of Jeonghan grabbing his towel.

“Nana-ya,” came Jeonghan’s voice, sing-song and playful, breaking through her thoughts.

Luna paused, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she glanced over her shoulder toward the divider. “Hmm?” she replied, her tone distracted as she continued sorting through her things. “Don’t be too loud,” she warned gently, her voice light but firm. “I’m live.”

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his voice muffled as he dried himself. “I know,” he replied casually, his usual laziness evident in his tone.

Luna returned to her task, carefully arranging her products in front of her. The faint rustling behind her signaled that Jeonghan was getting dressed, though she didn’t turn around. Her focus was on the small pile she had made on the counter, ensuring she had everything she needed before returning to her livestream.

A few moments later, she felt a familiar presence behind her, warm and comforting. Jeonghan’s arms slid around her waist, pulling her gently against him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. His damp hair brushed against her skin, and she laughed softly, the sound a mixture of affection and exasperation.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly as he moved to kiss the side of her neck. His hold tightened slightly, his actions unhurried, deliberate— his way of silently demanding her attention.

“You’re being clingy,” she teased, though her tone lacked any real reprimand.

Jeonghan rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I just missed you,” he said, his words carrying a soft smile.

Luna chuckled, reaching up to play with the damp strands of his hair. “I won’t be long, I promise,” she said softly, referring to the livestream she was about to return to.

Jeonghan shook his head, his hair brushing lightly against her fingers. “It’s alright, my pretty moon,” he replied, his tone easy and understanding. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before patting her stomach lightly. “Go. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Turning slightly, Luna placed a soft kiss on his lips, lingering just enough to convey her gratitude before pulling away. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her smile warm.

Jeonghan’s lazy smirk returned as he stepped back, giving her space to move. “Don’t make too much noise,” she reminded him once again, her tone a mix of amusement and caution.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jeonghan drawled, his voice dripping with playful laziness as he moved to the other side of the bathroom.

Luna couldn’t help but shake her head, her smile widening as she turned her attention back to the counter. Her thoughts wandered briefly as she gathered her things.

She had been extra cautious during the livestream, mindful of the fact that her fans were already aware of her living situation with Jeonghan. Ever since their five-year relationship and engagement had been confirmed, there had been no shortage of curiosity from fans. And while they had chosen to share parts of their lives with the public, she preferred to keep certain moments— like Jeonghan’s presence during his military enlistment— out of the spotlight.

Jeonghan’s enlistment was still fresh, and though he was serving alternative duty due to his injury, he was technically inactive. Being seen in her livestream wasn’t ideal, especially with so much attention already on them as a couple.

It wasn’t about hiding— just protecting the bits of privacy they had left.

With a soft sigh, Luna turned on her heel, her arms full of skincare essentials as she left the bathroom and walked back toward the table. The phone, still perched where she had left it, lit up with the stream of comments waiting for her return.

Luna settled back down into her seat, the plush cushions sinking slightly beneath her weight as she adjusted herself comfortably in front of her phone. Her face came into view, glowing softly under the warm lighting in the room. She propped her phone securely against a stack of books, angling it perfectly so that her fans could see her as she worked.

Carefully, she placed the assortment of skincare items she had been holding onto the table beside her. The camera caught the delicate sound of glass bottles softly clinking together.

“Sorry if I took a little long,” she said with an apologetic smile, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. Her voice carried the faintest hint of a laugh. “I have a lot of skincare stuff, okay? It’s part of the job,” she joked, giggling softly before sitting up straighter in her chair.

Of course, she tactfully left out the part about being momentarily distracted by her fiancé in the bathroom.

She picked up the makeup remover and unscrewed the cap with practiced ease, her slender fingers steady as she poured the liquid onto a cotton pad. Her movements were calm and deliberate, the small act of self-care grounding her as she turned her attention back to the comments rolling in on the screen.

One comment in English caught her eye, the bold text making her pause mid-motion:

“The set list was perfect, Jiyeon.”

Her lips curved into a smile as she leaned closer to the screen, reading the comment aloud in her soft British accent. “The setlist was perfect?” she echoed, her tone warm and grateful. “Oh, thank you so much! I’m really glad you enjoyed it.”

As she began gently removing her makeup, her tone shifted into a conversational rhythm. “Honestly, putting together the setlist is one of the hardest parts of preparing for a concert,” she admitted, her words punctuated by the hum of the air conditioner. “All of us want to accommodate as many fan requests as possible— and of course, there’s the management’s input and what we, as a group, want to do. It’s like this big jigsaw puzzle where every piece needs to fit perfectly.”

She giggled softly as she lowered the cotton pad, now smudged with traces of glitter and foundation. “If we could, we’d perform our entire discography for you,” she said with a playful smile, her accent lilting slightly on the word entire. “But we’d probably be on stage for days. None of us would survive that, would we?” Her laughter bubbled up, light and infectious, and it was echoed by the steady stream of laughing emojis and “LOL” comments flooding the chat.

As Luna moved on to removing the makeup from her other cheek, she leaned forward once more to glance at the chat. A new comment stood out to her, written in bright, enthusiastic text:

”‘Ash’ was so exciting to see live for the first time!!!”

Her eyes lit up as she read it, her excitement evident in the way her posture straightened. “Ash! Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, setting down the used cotton pad and moving her skincare bottles slightly to the side. “You don’t understand— ‘Ash’ has become one of my absolute favorite songs to perform. Like, it’s got this energy that just…” She trailed off, miming an explosion with her hands before laughing at herself. “I don’t know how to explain it— it’s just electric.”

Her voice grew more animated as she continued. “When we were rehearsing it for the first time, I remember thinking, ‘This is going to be so much fun to perform live.’ And seeing how much you guys loved it tonight? That just made it even better.” She placed her hands on her cheeks for a moment, a gesture of pure delight. “It’s honestly so cool that we can share these moments with you.”

Her face glowed with enthusiasm as she leaned forward, bringing herself closer to the camera. “I’m really glad you all enjoyed it. It’s one of those songs that feels special every time we perform it,” she added softly, her smile lingering as she sat back.

Luna’s fingers brushed gently against the table, reorganizing her skincare bottles as she scanned the comments quietly. One after another, compliments began flooding in, bright and direct:

“Barefaced Luna supremacy!”

“Unnie, your skin is perfect, how do you do it?”

“So natural and beautiful, no makeup needed at all!”

“She STILL looks like a fairy princess!!”

She bit her lip, a soft smile spreading across her face as her cheeks flushed lightly. Looking directly into the camera, she said shyly, “Ah, you’re all too kind. Thank you. I still think makeup helps a lot, but I really appreciate it.” Her voice softened, her humility evident in the way her hands briefly fluttered before resting on her lap.

She reached forward to adjust the camera slightly, all the while keeping her focus on the chat. Her eyes darted from one comment to the next, and for a few moments, the stream was filled with the rhythmic tapping of her nails against the table as she adjusted her posture.

But from the corner of her vision, she caught a glimpse of movement— subtle but distinct— near the doorway.

Jeonghan had quietly entered the room, his presence almost ghostlike as he walked behind the camera.

Luna’s heart gave a small, familiar skip, but she forced herself to keep her gaze locked on the screen in front of her. She knew the fans would pick up on even the smallest glance, and the last thing she wanted was to stir up more attention than there already was.

Still, Luna couldn’t resist.

Just once.

Her eyes flicked upward for the briefest of moments, only to meet the sight of Jeonghan settling lazily into the chair directly across from her. His posture was utterly relaxed, his back resting against the chair as his long legs stretched out in front of him. His damp, freshly washed hair clung slightly to his forehead, now brushed back enough to reveal his smooth features.

And though his expression was calm, his gaze never wavered, locked firmly on her with that familiar, mischievous glint that always made her stomach flip.

She snapped her eyes back to the screen immediately, pretending as though she hadn’t noticed a thing. Her fingers began fiddling with a nearby bottle as if that was the most important thing in the world at the moment.

A comment caught her attention, allowing her to refocus.

“I’ll be at the concert tomorrow for Day Two! So excited to see you all again!”

“Oh, really?” Luna said, her voice brightening. Her tone was natural, but there was an edge of determination in it— an effort to ignore the pair of eyes still glued to her.

“Are you excited? Because I’m really excited for Day Two! It’s going to be so much fun.” She laughed.

The comments lit up again, and Luna seized the opportunity to dive further into answering questions. “Are there any songs you’re looking forward to seeing live tomorrow?” she asked, leaning closer to the camera.

Her tone was curious, but inside, she was trying her best to block out the man sitting just behind the lens, clearly amused by her attempts to stay focused.

Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t falter, and she could feel it as surely as the warmth of the room. But Luna pressed on, scrolling through the chat and doing her best to give each question her full attention.

Luna’s eyes scanned the flood of comments until one stood out:

“‘Very Nice!’” She let out an immediate laugh, the sound filling the room as her shoulders shook. “Oh, of course!” she exclaimed, her tone playful and knowing. “It’s always that song, isn’t it?” Her grin widened as she leaned back slightly in her chair, a hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You all love it so much, but honestly…” Her voice dropped into a deadpan tone as she delivered the punchline. “We could be eighty years old, wrinkly, barely able to dance, and ‘Very Nice’ would still be haunting us. I’m telling you, it’s going to outlive us all.”

The comments exploded in reaction, laughing emojis and playful agreements dominating the chat. Luna’s laugh softened as she reached for her phone to adjust its position slightly, but the subtle shift in movement caught her attention.

Jeonghan leaned forward now, elbows resting casually on his knees, his chin propped on one hand as he gazed at her. The way he was looking at her— it was soft, warm, and unguarded. His eyes practically sparkled with affection, and it was enough to make Luna’s heart stumble in her chest.

Her gaze snapped up involuntarily, caught like a deer in headlights. The moment she locked eyes with him, he didn’t even try to mask the adoration in his expression. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and so full of unspoken love that she couldn’t help but smile, just a little, before quickly looking back down at her phone.

Realization hit her almost instantly, and her lips parted slightly in a subtle, shocked bunny-like expression. She tried to play it off by busying herself with scrolling through the comments again, but Jeonghan’s silent, knowing laughter was unmistakable. The faint shake of his shoulders, the way his lips curved in amusement— it was clear he found her reaction absolutely endearing.

The fans, however, were far from oblivious. The comments swarmed with a wave of chaotic energy:

“Did you see that look?!?!”

“SOMEONE IS IN THAT ROOM!!”

“IT’S JEONGHAN, ISN’T IT?!”

“THE WAY YOU LOOKED!!! HEART EYES!!! WE SAW THAT, JIYEON.”

“OMG THIS IS WHY YOU’RE GLOWING!!!”

“JUST ADMIT IT, PLEASE!!”

“Your fiancé is THERE, isn’t he?”

Luna glanced through the barrage of comments, her laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. She covered her mouth for a moment, trying to regain her composure, but the amusement dancing in her eyes betrayed her.

Without addressing the questions directly, she instead clapped her hands lightly and leaned forward. “Okay, okay, but what other songs are you looking forward to tomorrow?” she asked, her tone overly enthusiastic as she skillfully dodged the topic.

Though there were answers—song titles like ‘Fear’, ‘Super’, and ‘Water’, appeared— most of the fans were far from fooled. The chat remained relentless, teasing her mercilessly:

“Nice distraction, unnie, but we KNOW.”

“My answer is ‘Fearless’ now answer me!! IS YOON JEONGHAN THERE?!”

“You can’t escape us!”

“Breath if Jeonghan is there!”

“STOP TRYING TO CHANGE THE TOPIC!”

“We’ll talk about the songs, but FIRST—JEONGHAN?”

Luna pressed her lips together, clearly holding back laughter as her shoulders shook. Her grin was bright and mischievous as she refused to indulge the speculations.

Instead, she focused on the few non-Jeonghan-related comments, answering thoughtfully. “Oh, ‘Candy’? That's one of our new songs,” she said, nodding. “It’s such an emotional song to perform live. I love seeing everyone sing along.”

But every now and then, despite her best efforts, her eyes would dart back to Jeonghan. He was still there, still watching her with an expression that was impossible to ignore.

To him, Luna might as well have been the only person in the world.

Jeonghan’s smirk grew every time she glanced his way as if he knew exactly what she was doing and found her attempts to stay composed utterly adorable.

The comments continued to spiral:

“Go end the live and hang out with your lover at this point.”

“Ma’am, we’re right here, but go ahead, live your love story. Who are we to get in between that?”

“TELL HANNIE THAT WE MISS HIM!!”

“The way she keeps sneaking looks back…we SEE you! She knows that right?!”

“Wow even without seeing him I just know y’all flirting… first at the concert earlier now this… CARATS WE ARE OFFICIALLY THIRD WHEELS!!”

Luna bit her lip, her grin widening as she pretended to focus solely on the questions about the concert. She was clearly enjoying the fans’ reactions, even as she tried her best to ignore the chaos surrounding her and Jeonghan.

Luna’s eyes flicked over the comments as they continued their playful chaos, her expression a mix of amusement and concentration. Then, amidst the sea of teasing remarks, one question caught her attention:

“Did you know Jeonghan was gonna be watching the show tonight?”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head immediately. “No, I didn’t know,” she admitted, her voice light but laced with a hint of incredulity. “Apparently, the rest of the members knew. They kept it a secret from me for some reason. I think they wanted it to be a surprise.”

Her answer sent the chat into overdrive.

“THE REASON IS OBVIOUS, MISS THING!!!”

“HELLO?! YOU’RE HIS FIANCÉ, THAT’S WHY!”

“You know damn well they just wanted to see your reaction, Jiyeon, don’t even lie.”

“Because they know you’re his favorite person!!!”

“Couple things, I’m gonna cry now.”

Luna’s laughter bubbled up again as she silently read through the flurry of responses, her thumb scrolling idly across the screen. Her lips twitched into a softer smile as her gaze lingered on a calmer comment, one that shifted the tone slightly.

“Is it hard when not all the members are there?”

Luna exhaled softly, nodding to herself before answering. “Yes,” she said, her voice quieter now. “It’s hard. Not just for me but for everyone. We’re a family, and when even one person is missing, it feels… different. Like something’s off.” She paused, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of her phone. “Jeonghan and Jun not being with us right now— it’s tough. But we’re all doing our best to make up for it. We’re working twice as hard to fill those gaps.”

Her smile faltered ever so slightly, the sadness creeping into her expression despite her best efforts. Her head dipped a fraction, her focus dropping back to the comments, but the emotion was unmistakable.

From his seat behind the camera, Jeonghan caught the subtle change immediately. Without hesitation, he pushed himself up from the chair, the soft creak of it barely audible in the quiet room. Luna didn’t look up, too focused on maintaining her composure as she scrolled through the comments, but the movement was impossible to ignore.

Jeonghan crossed the room silently, his footsteps deliberately light as he perched himself on the edge of the table directly in front of her, still out of frame. His presence was a comforting weight, grounding her, but it was the way he reached out beneath the table— his hand finding hers with practiced ease, his fingers intertwining with hers in a familiar, reassuring hold— that made her pause.

Luna’s gaze lifted, almost instinctively, meeting his. The sight of him so close, his expression tender and unspoken reassurance in his eyes, made her heart swell. Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one she didn’t bother to hide this time. Let the comments think about what they wanted.

The chat, however, was already spiraling.

“HAN MOVED CLOSER TO HER.”

“There was a shadow on her face just now!!!”

“That’s him. IT’S HIM.”

“DID YOU SEE HER SMILE?! THAT WASN’T FOR US.”

“ARE THEY HOLDING HANDS???”

One particularly eagle-eyed fan had even managed to catch a fleeting detail:

“Guys, I swear I saw her hand. And she’s holding someone else’s.”

“They are holding hands! Brb… just gonna cry…”

Luna’s gaze flickered back to the screen, her smile widening slightly as she read the comments. A fan’s message made her pause, the sincerity in their words standing out amidst the chaos.

“Unnie, tell Jeonghan we miss him so much.”

Luna tilted her head slightly, her thumb brushing across her fiancé’s in a subtle gesture beneath the table. She glanced up briefly, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of teasing as she addressed the comment. “He knows,” she said softly. “And he misses you all too.”

The simple acknowledgment was enough to send the chat into another frenzy. Luna let out a small laugh, her fingers tightening around Jeonghan’s hand beneath the table as she returned her attention to the fans.

For now, the moment was hers to cherish.

Luna lifted her free right hand absentmindedly, her fingers brushing through her dark hair in a practiced, fluid motion. The movement caused the loose sleeve of her oversized hoodie to slip slightly, revealing a delicate gold band bracelet around her wrist. The light from the room caught the polished surface, making it gleam faintly against her skin.

The comments lit up almost immediately, fans’ sharp eyes catching every detail.

“Wait, what’s that bracelet?!”

“Luna, WHERE did you get that?! I want one!”

“Is that new? I don’t remember seeing it before!”

Luna blinked down at the screen, her lips twitching upward into a slight, knowing smile. She read one particular comment aloud, her tone casual: “‘Where did you get that bracelet?’”

Her response was equally nonchalant as she leaned back slightly, resting her free elbow on the armrest. “Oh, this?” she said, holding her wrist up a little higher so the camera could catch it better. “It’s from Hannie.”

Her answer was simple, offhanded even, but it was enough to send the chat spiraling into chaos.

“I KNEW IT!!!”

“Oh you mean your FIANCÉ???!!!”

“OF COURSE IT’S FROM HIM, OMG.”

“He gave it to her?! When???”

One comment in particular caught her eye, making her brow quirk slightly in amusement. She read it aloud, a faint teasing lilt in her voice: “‘Did he give it to you before he started his service?’”

Luna shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. “No,” she replied simply, glancing down at the bracelet for a moment before continuing. “After the concert earlier.”

The explosion in the comments was immediate and, frankly, unhinged.

“AFTER THE CONCERT??? THE CONCERT TODAY?! THE ONE YOU JUST FINISHED!? THAT CONCERT!!?”

“HELLO?! HE GAVE IT TO HER TODAY?!”

“GOODBYE I–!!!???”

“HE SAW HER AND GAVE HER A GIFT AFTERWARDS, I’M SCREAMING.”

“LITERALLY, STOP. I CANNOT HANDLE THE TWO OF THEM ANYMORE.”

“THIS IS SO CUTE I’M GONNA CRY.”

She couldn’t help but laugh softly as she scrolled through the flood of reactions, her thumb pausing briefly on one particularly dramatic comment before continuing. She didn’t say anything more about the bracelet, though; she simply let the fans draw their own conclusions, her expression calm but amused as the chat continued to buzz.

Luna stifled a small yawn, covering her mouth quickly with her free hand while her eyes flitted back to the comments, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

The thumb of Jeonghan’s hand, still firmly entwined with hers under the table, tapped against her skin lightly. The motion was subtle but deliberate, enough to make her glance up at him instinctively.

He was watching her, his gaze warm but resolute, and he gave a single, firm nod. That was all it took for her to understand.

He wanted her to rest now.

Luna’s lips parted slightly as she processed the silent request, but she nodded back in agreement, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Turning her attention back to the screen, she gently started to ease the live session toward its conclusion.

“I think it’s time to wrap things up, my loves,” she said softly, her voice laced with warmth but tinged with exhaustion. “It’s getting late, and we all need to sleep and rest now, don’t you think?” Her eyes flitted across the comments, watching as the fans began to respond in real-time.

“NOOO DON’T LEAVE US!”

“But we’re having so much fun, mom!! Five more minutes!!”

“Rest well, Luna, we’ll miss you!”

“SHE’S RIGHT, GUYS, WE NEED TO SLEEP TOO. I LEGIT HAVE EXAMS TOMORROW.”

“See you tomorrow, Jiyeonie!”

She chuckled softly at the mix of playful protests and agreement. “I need to rest and prepare for day two of the concert tomorrow,” she continued, her tone playful but soothing. “And for those of you who are attending, you’ll need your energy too. We can’t have you falling asleep in the audience, can we?”

Her smile brightened as she read more comments streaming in.

“We could NEVER fall asleep at a SEVENTEEN concert!”

“I’LL HAVE SO MUCH ENERGY, DON’T WORRY!!”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep from excitement!”

“I’m so excited to see you tomorrow!”

Luna’s gaze softened at the outpouring of enthusiasm. “I’m excited to see all of you too,” she said sincerely. “I hope we can make some more amazing memories together tomorrow. Let’s make it another day to remember.” She paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words, before adding, “I’ll try to go live again soon, okay? But for now, I hope all of you get a good night’s sleep.”

She leaned closer to the camera, raising her free hand to wave. “Goodnight, everyone,” she said, her voice tender. “Rest well. I’ll see you all tomorrow. I love you guys so much.”

For a few moments, she stayed on screen, waving repeatedly, her fingers curling and uncurling in an affectionate gesture. Then, grinning playfully, she blew a few kisses toward the camera, making exaggerated smooching sounds that had the chat in a frenzy.

“I’M CATCHING ALL THE KISSES.”

“Stop, you’re so cute, Bae Jiyeon.”

“GOODNIGHT, QUEEN!”

“I’ll dream of you tonight.”

“SEE YOU TOMORROW, LOVE YOU!!!”

Suddenly, a large hand entered the frame, its fingers splaying briefly in a casual wave beside hers.

Luna froze mid-wave, her eyes widening in surprise as her gaze darted up toward Jeonghan, who had leaned in slightly to wave at the camera himself. Her laugh came instantly, bright and uninhibited, as she covered her mouth with her free hand.

“Yah,” she scolded lightly, her tone affectionate as she looked up at him. He didn’t reply, just smiled at her, his expression filled with the same lazy charm he always carried, but his actions had clearly left their mark.

The comments erupted into chaos.

“THAT HAND!!!”

“YOON JEONGHAN!!!”

“IT’S JEONGHAN, I KNOW THAT HAND ANYWHERE!!!”

“STOP, THAT’S THE TEAM RING ON HIS PINKY. IT’S ACTUALLY HANNIE!!!”

“JEONGNA IS MAKING ME LOSE MY MIND.”

“GOODNIGHT, MOM AND DAD!”

“JEONGHAN WAVING GOODNIGHT HAS KILLED ME, GOODBYE WORLD.”

Luna glanced back at the comments, reading the reactions with a small, knowing smile. “Okay, okay, calm down,” she teased softly, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She looked back up at Jeonghan briefly, her gaze tender, before turning to the camera one last time. “Goodnight, everyone. Sleep well.”

With that, she pressed the button to end the live, her smile lingering as the screen dimmed. For a moment, the room was quiet save for the faint hum of the camera powering down. Luna turned back to Jeonghan, her expression melting into one of quiet gratitude.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, her tone affectionate as she shook her head, but the smile playing on her lips said she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jeonghan’s lips curved into that familiar mischievous smirk as he leaned forward to help Luna up from her seat. His hand lingered at her elbow, steadying her as she rose, before sliding casually around her shoulder.

The movement was effortless like it had been practiced a thousand times, and she instinctively leaned into him, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. His touch radiated warmth, grounding her in the moment as the exhaustion from the day finally began to settle in.

Together, they began walking toward their room, Jeonghan’s steps slow and deliberate, guiding her with an almost imperceptible care.

As they passed the dimly lit hallway, he tilted his head slightly, his smirk only growing as he remarked with a teasing lilt, “And with that, Luna and Jeonghan trend again for the hundredth time just this year alone.”

Luna let out a soft laugh, the sound light and airy as it slipped through the quiet space. She turned her head slightly, peeking up at him with mock disbelief. “You’re insane,” she murmured, her voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

Jeonghan’s response was immediate. Without missing a beat, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, the gesture both tender and deliberate. He lingered there for just a moment, letting his lips brush against her skin as if sealing away all the weariness that clung to her.

When he pulled back, his hand moved to her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. His dark eyes locked onto hers, the playful glint softening into something deeper, more intimate. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

Jeonghan’s voice broke the stillness, low and quiet but filled with certainty. “It’s my turn to have your attention now,” he said simply, the corners of his lips quirking up in a soft, confident smile.

The words hung in the air between them, and Luna felt her heart skip in response, his meaning clear without him needing to elaborate.

They were each others’ rest after all.

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n1ght0f-nyx · 6 months ago

Note

WOVEN BONDS IS AMAZING!!!!! Pls make part 2,3,4,5,6 😭🫡💖

woven bonds pt 2

this was very requested so here we are!!

You've been sold to an orc by your father, and after shutting yourself in for a few weeks, youve finally started to come to enjoy your new husbands company

warnings/tags- bedrotting, arranged marrige but pertah loves you so thats nice, pert'ah speaks with semi-broken english

word count- 1167

The days that followed were filled with silence, but it was a different kind of silence. No longer filled with the heavy weight of anger or hopelessness, it was instead filled with uncertainty. Pert'ah continued his routine—bringing you food, speaking to you in soft tones, always giving you space while he worked outside or wove intricate tapestries by the hearth. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Yet, you felt a change inside yourself.

It was small at first. One morning, after he had left a bowl of fruit by your bedside, you reached out and took a piece, biting into it with a sense of resignation. It was sweeter than you had expected, and you found yourself eating more. That night, you ate a bit of the stew he left. It wasn’t the same as the dishes from your old home, but it was warm, hearty, and made with care.

Pert'ah noticed. You could see the relief in his eyes when he glanced at the empty bowl later that day. He didn’t say anything, but the gentle way his lips turned upward spoke volumes.

As days passed, you started to leave the bed for longer periods. You’d sit by the window and watch him work outside. Pert'ah would spend hours weaving, his large hands surprisingly nimble as they guided the threads into beautiful patterns. Sometimes, he would carve small figures out of wood or clay, his concentration deep as he brought the raw materials to life. The more you watched him, the more you saw the softness behind his hardened exterior. There was an artistry to everything he did, a careful thoughtfulness.

Slowly, you began to speak to him.

It wasn’t much at first—a word here, a question there—but Pert'ah’s eyes lit up each time you addressed him. His responses were always careful, his voice soft and unsure as if he feared saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

One evening, you found yourself standing outside the hut, watching him work on a large tapestry. The orange light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting warm shadows over his figure. He glanced up when he noticed you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"I… I work on this for winter," he said, standing up slowly, dusting off his hands. "Keep us warm."

You nodded, stepping closer. The tapestry was beautiful, its rich colors weaving together in patterns of leaves and flowers. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, a testament to his skill.

"It’s… it’s beautiful," you said softly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Pert'ah’s eyes widened slightly. He looked at you as though you had given him the greatest compliment in the world. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he took a step toward you, his large hand tentatively reaching out as though he wanted to touch your arm, but he hesitated.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice low, almost shy. "I… I make it for you. For us."

You felt something in your chest stir at his words, a warmth that was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Pert'ah had been nothing but kind to you, patient in a way you had never expected from an orc. And now, as you stood in the golden light of dusk, watching him look at you with such raw vulnerability, you realized you were no longer as angry as you once were.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to him more and more. Pert'ah would tell you stories of his clan, how he had been raised as a weaver and how orc culture was not as warlike as humans believed. He would sit by the fire in the evenings, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke of the orcs’ long history of craftsmanship, of art, and of building rather than destroying.

And slowly, your barriers began to crumble.

One night, after dinner, you sat together in the hut, the fire crackling softly as you both shared a quiet moment. Pert'ah was working on another carving, his large fingers skillfully shaping the wood into something delicate. You watched him for a while, fascinated by the contrast between his size and the gentleness of his craft.

"Why… why do you make so many things?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pert'ah paused, looking up at you with a small smile. "I make because I love it. It make world… more beautiful." His eyes softened as they met yours. "And now… I make for you."

The way he said it, so simple and yet so full of meaning, made your heart skip a beat. Pert'ah wasn’t just making things to fill the space. He was making them for you, offering pieces of himself in every woven thread and carved figure.

Over time, Pert'ah became more than just the orc you had been forced to marry. He became the person you looked forward to seeing each day, the one who spoke to you with care and treated you with a tenderness that slowly melted away your fears.

Pert'ah, for his part, was falling deeper in love with you with each passing day. He adored every small smile you gave him, every word you spoke. It was as though you were the center of his world now, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He would wake up early to prepare your meals, always trying new dishes to see which ones you liked. He would carve small figures for you, weaving your favorite flowers into tapestries.

His love grew more intense, almost obsessive, but never in a way that felt suffocating. He watched you with reverence, always making sure to give you the space you needed, but it was clear in his eyes—Pert'ah was head over heels in love. You had become his muse, his heart, and every moment with you only deepened his feelings.

One night, as you sat together by the fire, Pert'ah spoke softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"[Name]… I never think I can feel like this. You make my heart… full." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I do anything for you. Alway.."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. You could feel the depth of his feelings, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of rejection or acceptance.For the first time, you didn’t shy away. Instead, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. His skin was warm, rough but comforting beneath your touch.

"I don’t know if I’m ready to say that yet," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But… I do care about you, Pert'ah."

His face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart flutter. "That enough for me. I wait for you..alway.."

And for the first time since your marriage, you smiled back.

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pitchsidestories · 4 months ago

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met someone II Lena Oberdorf x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1452

a/n: dear readers, the poll chose Lena Oberdorf for this oneshot, we hope you're enjoying it. 💖💖

“Lena?”, Lea sounded surprised.

“Lea, this bar sucks!”, the dark-haired woman yelled into her phone

“But that’s there all the hot lesbians are according to Georgia.”, the blonde frowned.

“Georgia is wrong. The thing is full of straight women.”, she observed with growing frustration as a group of them was laughing hysterically about a joke one of the girls had made.

“Wait, but it’s a gay bar are they all celebrating their bachelorette parties?”, the forward asked confused.

“I don’t care what they do here but they’re all here. I think I’ll go home.”, Lena replied grumpily.

To lighten up her best friend’s terrible mood the blonde suggested. “Tomorrow at my place? I’ll cook a lot of hot chocolate and then we’ll watch a stupid romcom?”

“Didn’t you do that today already?”, the brunette teased the older player.

“Uhmm.”, Lea responded awkwardly.

“I know you.”, Lena stated chuckling.

“Well, I can do it two times in a row if you don’t tell our coach.”, she answered sheepishly.

“Okay, I won’t tell him if you don’t tell him that I’m out at a bar.”, the younger footballer offered grinning.

“We’ve a deal. See you tomorrow night!”, Lea chirmed.

“Bye.”, the brunette ended the phone call. Her dark eyes wandering one last time through her surroundings. The bar had its charm, she could admit that. It had a fading elegance to it like an old diva where you could tell that the woman once was a great beauty, something with a lot of history.

The barkeeper had mentioned to her that back in the 1980s Freddie Mercury was a reoccurring guest. Probably it was a bit more colourful back in the day.

For a second Lena tried to imagine how it would’ve looked like when the British rockstar was still alive but when her eyes locked with yours and all she could think about was you. Why hasn’t the football player noticed you before?

“Uhmm hi.”, the brunette greeted you nervously.

“Hey.”, you bit your lip.

“I’m Lena.”, the stranger introduced herself. Her smile was infectious, it immediately calmed you and made you feel less awkward than you’d usually feel in front of a person you just met.

You told her your name and when added. “You’re alone here too? There’s a lot of groups tonight?”

Lonely hearts recognized each other you thought to yourself. Especially in a crowded room where people who came alone were rare.

“Yeah, I was about to go home. But then I saw you and I thought.. I could at least try and shoot my shot.”, Lena winked.

“That’s funny because I was about to leave too until I saw you.”, you confessed without hesitation in your voice.

A smile spread across Lenas face: “Oh really? Looks like this was meant to be.“

You chuckled in response, teasing her: “Are you a romantic, Lena?”

“Not really.“, she shook her head, her smile unwavering.

“So you don’t believe in love at the first sight?”, you asked.

She tilted her head slightly: “I believe in attraction at the first sight.“

You could barely tear your eyes away from that smirk, confident and cool.

“Me too.“

Lena pointed back towards the entrance of the bar and suggested: “Maybe we should stay for another drink?”

You nodded quickly: “Yes.“

Unsurprisingly, the bar was still crowded when the two of you went back inside. Lena led you right towards the counter to two empty bar stools. She had already ordered drinks while you sat down.

“Come on, it’s on me.“, she grinned as she pushed one of the glasses towards you.

You smiled politely at her: “Thank you.“

“You’re welcome.“

You sipped on your drink. Despite its dangerously clear look, you could barely taste the alcohol.

“So, what got you here tonight?”, you asked.

“I moved here a couple of months ago. I guess I’m just looking for someone…“, Lena admitted willingly.

It was more than understandable.

“A big city like Munich can get lonely…“, you mused, absentmindedly swirling the liquid in your glass.

Observing you, she raised an eyebrow: “Speaking from experience?”

“I do…“, you replied but quickly frowned at yourself. That sounded all wrong, you weren’t lonely. “I mean I love my friends…“

“But a romantic relationship is different. I get that.“, Lena completed your thought.

You paused for a moment, not because her interruption felt invasive, but because you felt an immediate connection.

“It is.“

“I feel the same way about that.“, Lena agreed.

You lifted your glass and clinked it against hers: “Cheers to the Lonely Hearts Club.“

Lena laughed: “Who knows. Maybe we’re at the right place at the right time and won’t be part of that club for much longer.“

Your heart skipped a beat, swelling with hope that this could be more than just a last-minute flirt at a bar but your forced it to calm down.

“Do you want to go for a walk after this?”, you asked, once your heart had started pumping blood to your brain again.

Lena checked the clock on her phone and nodded: “Sure.“

“Perfect.“

Both of your glasses emptied quickly.

“Ready to leave?”

“Yes, I’m ready.“, you said as you got up.

“Let’s go.“

Lena followed you outside where you both were met with the chilly breeze of the late night.

Side by side, you started walking against the cold. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk just enough. You watched the shadows dance across Lenas face as you walked to nowhere in particular.

“Do you like living in the city so far?”

“I do. I expected the move to be harder but.. I like it.”, she admitted. You could tell that the young woman meant it. Immediately you asked yourself where Lena had lived before. Possibly somewhere smaller and calmer.

The brunette glanced at you with curiosity. “What about you? Have you lived here for a long time?”

“Yes, I moved here for university. It felt very freeing.”, a shy smile played on your lips as you spoke.

“I can see that.”, she observed in a friendly tone.

“In Munich you can be yourself.”, you added meaningfully.

A moment of realization hit the dark-haired woman unexpectedly. “You came out here, huh?”, Lena recognized.

“I did.”, you nodded. Pictures of the past were flashing behind your eyes. The small Bavarian village you grew up in, the catholic church being the centre of everyday life and gay people were basically non-existent. When you came to Munich it felt like you were able to breathe normally for the first time in forever.

“I think I understand why this city means so much to you.”, the brunette replied.

“You were out before moving?”, you asked her although it was more an observation than a question.

“Yes, for a while. I’m a football player so everyone is very open about it.”, Lena explained blushing.

“Ah a football player.”, you smiled at her mildly.

“Oh. You don’t sound impressed.”, she stated sounding almost a bit disappointed. But from the inside the midfielder felt relived too as sometimes the only thing women found interesting about her was her job.

The Lena off the pitch didn’t interest them at all, the one who loved her friends and family fearlessly, who liked to have fun, party a little and who wanted to take care of a dog again, but knew she wouldn’t have enough time without a partner to help her.

“No, I was just wondering why your arms are so impressive.”, you countered grinning, your fingers intertwined as you kept walking.

“You’re impressed by my arms? You should see my thighs.”, she smirked.

“Can’t see them through those trousers.”, you continued the banter making the woman you felt attracted to break into a warm and loud laughter.

“Sorry that joke went a bit far for a first meeting.”, Lena biting her full lips apologetically.

“A little but I’m already liking what I can see.”, you responded truthfully.

“Oh, you do?”, the football player raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, too much honesty?”, you chuckled.

“No, I like honesty.”, she replied earnestly.

“Same. So, what if I’d like to see you again?”, you questioned bravely, your heart pounding hard against your chest.

“How about tomorrow?” That ask sounded like music to both of your ears. Like this night might came to an end but it was only the beginning for you two.

The following day Lea exclaimed surprised. “Wait, you’re bringing a plus one to our movie night?!”

“Either that or I have to cancel. And you won’t forgive me for that.”, Lena said smiling.

“Okay, you can bring her.”, the striker sighed dramatically.

“You won’t regret it.”, the brunette promised wholeheartedly. Lena got butterflies in her stomach as she thought about you.

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sthavoc · 11 months ago

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Hi bestieeee, can I request something cute ? It could be short if you like.

You never call Enzo by his name he is used to hearing “mi amor” or whatever you like but when you say his name for something he’s like the confused pikachu meme like what did I do wrong? Who you talking to cuz that ain’t me I’m the love of your life future father of your children EXCUSE YOUUU TREAT ME WITH SOME RESPECT.

Thank you !! 💖

*๑՞ 🍏 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: you decide to pull a little prank on your boyfriend, wanting to see his reaction to you calling him by his name.

·˚ ༘ warnings: I believe it’s only fluff (if not i’m sorry)

·˚ ༘ note: guys i’m finally on spring break!! I can write more fics now! this one is a small blurb <3 i’m sorry if there’s any grammar mistakes.

The times you’ve called Enzo by his name could be counted. Those few moments could be times when the two of you would either fight or be on serious topics. Apart from that, his name wouldn't be a part of your daily vocabulary around him, or on the list of names you were used on calling him.

But today, you decided to see and test the waters. What would his reaction be to you randomly calling him by his name? Right now both of you found yourselves in the kitchen after you guys had gotten back home from doing your grocery shopping.

You thought this was perfect timing for you to ask him for something.

“¿Enzo, me pasas las manzanas por favor?” And there was his reaction. You tried to ignore it, but the facial expressions he had were difficult to dismiss. Your lips quivered from trying your best not to break character, you even had to seal them completely.

“¿Cómo me llamaste?” He spoke with confusion and astonishment in his tone. You never looked up from what you were doing and continued to put the groceries away.

“¿De qué hablas?” You followed along. The smallest of smiles broke from your lips when your back faced him and he wasn’t able to see any sign of facial expressions on your face.

“Me llamaste Enzo.” He sets both palms on the cold stone of the kitchen counter, his knuckles bending with the action. By this moment you had turned towards him again but continued to move.

“Pero si así te llamas amor.” You played dumb.

“No, no—” He points with his index before making his lips damped with his tongue. “Para vos yo soy tu “mi amor”, futuro marido, el padre de tus futuros hijos, el amor de tu vida.” You were trying your very best not to laugh right now. He appeared offended from hearing his name coming out of your lips.

You couldn't hide the smile on your lips, and he realized it. The crease that formed between his brows hadn't missed the way your cheeks grew for the smile. Which was when he asked—

“¿Por que sonreís?” he continued to look annoyed as you continued to smile.

You shook your head trying to cover your smile, but you were failing to. “Era una bromita amor.”

A smirk appeared on his lips, where he stuck his tongue inside his lower lip with a small shake of the head. “Ah ¿una bromita eh?” He copies. He had walked closer to you, his hands had found its way to your waist. “Pues tus bromitas me van a dar algo chiquita. Pero todo lo que dije es verdad eh.” He points.

“Lo se, y lo siento.” you whisper genuinely. Your eyes looked up at him while you continued to share your smile.

His index finger and thumb rested on your chin while the lack of space stayed between the two before he leaned in to share a gentle kiss. A kiss from which you were able to hear the smooch after you both pulled away.

“respeto, nena.” He said.

And you knew that the man meant for you to have respect for him, on knowing how to call him. It was mostly banter, but he did prefer for you to call him any cute pet name than his name. A million times.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x you

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reidmarieprentiss · 7 months ago

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Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Penelope texts Y/n, Rossi has a dinner party, Y/n and Spencer meet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of virginity and sex (16+), playing never have I ever, teasing from friends, consuming alcohol

Word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am cranking this story out it is going to be finished so fast dear goddd ,, hopefully y'all like it!!! probably like 5 ish more parts is my guess

main masterlist

Y/n was settling in for the night after a long shift at the hospital, kicking her feet up on her coffee table with a glass of wine in hand when her usually dead phone vibrated.

Hey, Y/N! 😊 It's Penelope from the BAU. Hope you don't mind me texting! Just thought I'd check in and see how my favorite child psychologist is doing. 🌟

Hey, Penelope! Of course, I don't mind :) I’m doing well, just busy with work as usual. How about you?

Busy saving the world, one computer at a time! 🖥️💪 So, tell me, are you still too busy to date, or have you finally joined us mere mortals in the quest for love? 💘

Haha I guess we’re getting right into it. I suppose I am feeling ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool. But I’ve been avoiding it for a while 😅 Awkward first dates are terrifying!

Ooh, exciting! 🥳 But I totally get the fear. Blind dates can be the worst. You never know if you're going to meet Prince Charming or... well, not. 😬

Exactly! And I've been so focused on my career that I haven't really thought about dating in a while. Plus, all my undergrad flings made me a bit wary of anything serious.

Understandable. Sometimes you just need to have fun, right? But now that you’re settled, maybe it’s time for a change? 😉

Yeah, maybe you're right. I wouldn't mind meeting someone who shares my interests and gets my sense of humor.

OMG, that sounds like a dream. Let me know when you find them and send me one too. 💖

Ha! If I find one I will let you know. How does one even go about meeting new people nowadays?

Well… You remember Rossi, right? He’s having a pasta and wine night at his mansion this Friday at 8 pm!! 🎉

Pasta and wine?? Sounds perfect. Thanks, Penelope! I’ll be there, I appreciate you thinking of me :)

Anytime, Y/N! Can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the team. I’ve got a good feeling about this! 💖✨

—

The rest of the team? Y/n thought to herself. She had assumed she met everyone already when she went for drinks with Aaron and the team. Maybe they added a new member. Regardless, she's excited to do three of her favorite things, eat pasta, drink wine, and let rich people pay for everything.

—

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over David Rossi’s expansive estate. Nestled in the Virginia countryside, the elegant home exuded both charm and sophistication, a perfect reflection of its owner. The team arrived one by one, greeted by the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread and simmering marinara sauce that wafted through the air, promising a feast of Italian delights.

As Y/n stepped into the house, they were embraced by the warm ambiance of the living room, where a crackling fire in the stone fireplace added a cozy touch. The room was tastefully decorated with leather-bound books, framed photographs, and art pieces that told stories of Rossi’s travels and experiences. Soft jazz music played in the background, the soothing melodies mingling with the lively chatter of the guests.

The dining room was a vision of elegance, with a long mahogany table set for the evening's festivities. Flickering candlelight danced across the table, casting a gentle glow on the polished silverware and delicate china. Each place setting was thoughtfully arranged, complete with fine crystal wine glasses waiting to be filled with Rossi’s carefully curated selection of wines.

On the far side of the room, a sideboard displayed an array of antipasti: olives, cured meats, marinated vegetables, and various cheeses artfully arranged on rustic wooden boards. A large bouquet of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a splash of color and vibrancy to the room.

The kitchen bustled with activity as Rossi, ever the gracious host, put the finishing touches on a variety of homemade pasta dishes. Large pots simmered on the stove, the fragrant aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. A pan of lasagna bubbled in the oven, its cheese topping perfectly golden brown. Fresh basil and parsley were sprinkled generously over platters of spaghetti aglio e olio and creamy fettuccine alfredo, each dish a testament to Rossi’s culinary skills and passion for Italian cuisine.

In the adjoining patio, strings of fairy lights twinkled overhead, providing a magical canopy under which the team could relax and unwind. Comfortable seating areas were arranged to encourage conversation, and a small fire pit offered warmth as the evening grew cooler. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets added a serene backdrop to the lively gathering.

The evening at Rossi’s house was in full swing. The room was alive with laughter and conversation, and the clinking of glasses mingled with the soft strains of jazz music. The warm glow from the fireplace and the dim lighting created a cozy, inviting atmosphere that wrapped the team in a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

As the doorbell rang, David straightened his jacket and moved toward the entrance with a welcoming smile. He opened the door to reveal Y/N, who stood on the threshold, looking radiant in her deep green dress that highlighted her curves and complemented her confident demeanor.

“Y/N! Welcome!” Rossi exclaimed, stepping aside to usher her into the house. His voice was warm and genuine, filled with the kind of hospitality that made his guests feel immediately at home. “I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

Y/N’s face brightened with a warm smile as she stepped inside. “Thank you, David. I’m excited to be here. The house looks wonderful.”

Rossi gave a hearty laugh. “It’s all thanks to the amazing team I have. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

With a graceful wave of his hand, Rossi guided Y/N into the living room, where the BAU team had gathered. The room buzzed with the energy of friends reconnecting after a long day. Rossi’s arrival with Y/N caught the attention of the group, and they turned to greet her with friendly smiles and nods.

Spencer, who had been deep in a conversation with Derek about a recent case, felt a shift in the atmosphere. His gaze followed Rossi and Y/N as they entered, his attention abruptly captured.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he took in Y/N’s presence. The warm lighting seemed to highlight her natural beauty, and the graceful way she moved across the room was both captivating and disorienting. The rest of the team offered her friendly waves and greetings, but Spencer was fixated on her, his curiosity piqued.

Hotch, noticing Spencer’s focused attention, decided it was time for introductions. He approached Spencer with a friendly, knowing smile and gestured toward Y/N.

“Spencer,” Hotch began, his tone calm and reassuring, “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Spencer turned to face Hotch, his heart racing a bit. Hotch continued, “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid. He’s one of our most brilliant team members here at the BAU.”

Y/N extended her hand with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

God, even her voice is beautiful.

Spencer, momentarily taken aback, felt a flutter of nerves as he took her hand. “Hi, Y/N. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” he replied, his voice tinged with both shyness and genuine interest.

Y/N’s gaze was kind and her smile reassuring, making Spencer feel more at ease. “I hope it’s all been good,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Spencer managed a small, tight lipped smile, as he tucked his hair behind one ear and his nerves started to settle. “Definitely,” he replied, feeling a warmth that contrasted with his usual social anxiety.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her eyes meeting Spencer’s with a genuine curiosity. “So, Spencer,” she began, her tone light and engaging, “what’s one thing you’re passionate about outside of work?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up as he considered her question. “Well, I’m really into chess,” he admitted. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. It’s a great way to exercise the mind and challenge myself.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I didn’t know that. I used to play chess with my grandfather when I was younger. It’s a fascinating game. Do you have a favorite opening strategy?”

Spencer’s face brightened, and he leaned in a bit more, his enthusiasm evident. “Yes! I’m a big fan of the Queen’s Gambit. It’s a classic and very versatile. What about you?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she shared her own chess experiences. The conversation continued, the two finding common ground and enjoying each other’s company.

Hotch observed the interaction with a pleased expression, satisfied with the introduction. He stepped back, allowing Spencer and Y/N to continue their conversation. The team resumed their chatter, though the undercurrent of excitement about the new connection was palpable.

The evening had progressed into a more relaxed phase as the team retreated to Rossi’s lush backyard. The gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation blended with the soft rustling of leaves in the warm night breeze. The group had moved outside after enjoying a sumptuous Italian feast prepared by Rossi and Penelope, and now they were settling into comfortable chairs and sofas, each with a glass of wine in hand.

Spencer, still a bit on edge but feeling slightly more at ease, had decided to join in on the wine, especially since Y/N had done the same. The rich, full-bodied wine paired perfectly with the after-dinner atmosphere, adding to the relaxed ambiance of the evening.

Derek, always the instigator of fun, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a game. How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” He looked around the circle with a gleam in his eye, clearly excited about the prospect of the game.

Emily raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, this should be interesting. Let’s see who’s willing to spill some secrets tonight.”

Y/N looked intrigued but a bit hesitant. “Sounds fun. I’m game.”

The group settled into a comfortable rhythm as Derek began the game. “Okay, I’ll start. Never have I ever... gone skydiving.”

A few people sipped their wine, including Emily and Rossi. “Guilty as charged,” Rossi said with a chuckle. “Skydiving is quite the adrenaline rush.”

Y/N, who had taken a sip, smiled and said, “I’ve always wanted to try it, but never had the chance.”

Spencer, still holding his glass, observed the interactions with a mix of curiosity and caution. He had never played this game before, not having ever been invited to parties in high school or college, and while he was intrigued, he wasn’t sure how much he was ready to reveal about himself.

JJ leaned forward, looking at Y/N with a grin. “Okay, your turn. What’s something we’d never expect from you?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then laughed softly. “Alright, never have I ever... been to a strip club.”

This time, the whole team, including Penelope, sipped their wine. “Oh, I mean we all have been on multiple occasions for a case,” Penelope admitted with a grin. “It’s a rite of passage.”

Spencer watched Y/N closely, noticing how easily she blended with the group, her laughter and easy demeanor making her approachable. He found himself feeling more comfortable, the game serving as a welcome distraction from his usual reservations.

As the game continued, Derek took his turn. “Never have I ever... gone on a blind date.”

Spencer, who had been carefully sipping his wine, hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. He caught Y/N’s eye and saw her smile warmly. “Well, that’s a new one for me,” she said, clearly amused.

Hotch, enjoying the playful banter, decided to chime in. “I think it’s safe to say that a lot of us have had some interesting experiences with blind dates.”

The game continued with a mix of laughter, surprises, and the occasional sip of wine. As it came around to Spencer’s turn, he took a deep breath, deciding to take a small risk. “Never have I ever... read all the books in a series before the final book was released.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed. “Oh, I’m guilty of that too. I get too impatient for the next installment.”

Spencer felt a small spark of connection, his nerves easing as he realized they shared a common interest. “It’s the only way to avoid spoilers,” he said with a smile.

The conversation flowed easily as the game progressed, with everyone sharing stories and bonding over their revelations. Spencer found himself more relaxed, the warmth of the wine and the easygoing nature of the game creating an environment where he could be himself.

The group settled into their seats even more lubricated with wine, ready for the real revelations. Derek went first, his tone playful. “Never have I ever... been to a nightclub and partied until dawn.”

Y/N, Emily, Penelope and Derek took a sip, with Emily laughing. “Oh, I’ve done that more times than I can count. Nothing like a night out on the town to blow off some steam.”

Spencer seemed slightly more at ease with each revelation. “I’ve never been to one of those. It sounds like an experience.”

The game continued with more revealing questions. Emily, with a mischievous glint in her eye, asked, “Never have I ever... had a one-night stand.”

Spencer was visibly surprised when Y/N took a sip. Y/N gave a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s a part of life’s experiences, but I guess I’ve been more focused on my career lately.”

Spencer nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was still a virgin, and while he wanted to connect with Y/N on a deeper level, he found himself struggling. She had undoubtedly had more romantic and physical experiences than he had. The thought that someone as stunning and sophisticated as Y/N would be interested in a novice like him seemed almost inconceivable. He was trying hard not to let his insecurities cloud his mood. The way she smelled—like a wet dream—was both intoxicating and overwhelming. Her laughter, so genuine and carefree, only accentuated the gulf between them. Spencer tried to shake off the discomfort, reminding himself to stay engaged.

Derek, sensing the shift in the conversation and relishing the opportunity to provoke more personal revelations, threw out another provocative prompt. “Never have I ever... gone on a vacation just for the sake of hooking up with someone.”

Penelope and Emily took a sip, with Penelope letting out a soft laugh. “Sometimes you just need to get away and see where the night takes you,” she said, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/N, now visibly more at ease and enjoying the shared camaraderie, leaned in slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ve always found travel is more about the sights than the romance. But I suppose the adventure can include a little... spontaneous connection,” she said, letting her words linger with a hint of allure. Her gaze flicked towards Spencer briefly, a subtle challenge in her eyes.

Spencer felt a slight flush creeping up his neck as he realized Y/N’s playful comment was not lost on him. The conversation had taken a decidedly more personal turn. “I’ve never really mixed vacation with... personal pursuits,” he admitted, his tone tinged with shyness. The idea of combining travel with romantic endeavors seemed foreign and somewhat intimidating.

As the game continued, the topics grew more intense and revealing. Rossi, with a knowing smile and a glint of mischief, asked, “Never have I ever... been in a relationship where both partners had different kinks.”

Everyone, even Hotch, took a sip, with Rossi adding, “Sometimes those differences can make things... particularly exciting.”

Y/N, engaging more openly with the group, nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s definitely something that can add a layer of complexity to a relationship,” she said, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. “It’s all about finding that balance and exploring what truly works for both partners.”

Spencer, taking a sip and feeling the warmth of the wine begin to loosen his nerves, found himself caught between curiosity and shyness. “It sounds like navigating those differences can be... challenging,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, trying to read the subtle nuances in her expressions. The vulnerability she displayed in her words made her even more intriguing.

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, a mix of empathy and flirtation in her gaze. “It can be, but it’s also part of what makes relationships interesting,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a suggestive undertone. She met Spencer’s eyes with a confident yet gentle look, as if inviting him to share more of his thoughts.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling a blend of attraction and apprehension. The way Y/N spoke, her casual yet intimate revelations, made him want to know more about her and, perhaps, reveal more about himself. The game had opened a door to a new level of connection, one that both excited and intimidated him.

The night had drifted into a mellow haze as the stars began to twinkle in the sky. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of glasses had subsided into a relaxed murmur as the team lingered in Rossi’s backyard, enjoying the cool night air. The rich aroma of the evening’s wine lingered in the air, adding a heady undertone to the tranquil setting.

Spencer had been engaged in a conversation with Rossi, but his mind kept drifting back to the playful exchanges he’d shared with Y/N. She had been captivating throughout the evening, her laughter and teasing remarks sticking in his mind. He found himself drawn to her energy, even as he struggled with his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, guests began to trickle out, and the ambiance of the backyard shifted to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere. Spencer watched as Y/N, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the wine, made her way towards him. Her movements were graceful, and there was a certain confident allure in her stride that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N approached Spencer with a mix of determination and vulnerability. She cleared her throat gently, her eyes locking with his in a gaze that was both direct and inviting. The faint glow from the string lights above cast a warm halo around her, highlighting her striking features and the subtle sheen of her skin.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, her voice soft but laden with an undeniable edge of sincerity. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Spencer, caught off guard, nodded. “Of course, Y/N. What’s up?”

Y/N led him a little away from the remaining guests, her hand brushing lightly against his as she guided him to a more secluded corner of the backyard. Spencer found he didn’t mind the contact too much, he might still wash his hands after. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his with a mix of hesitation and resolve. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight,” she began, her voice a touch more vulnerable than usual. “And I have to admit, I’ve been thinking... I’d like to see you again. Maybe for a coffee or dinner sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he took in her words. He felt a rush of warmth at the idea of spending more time with her, but the reality of his inexperience and his nerves threatened to overwhelm him. He managed a small, nervous smile, his mind racing through a whirlwind of thoughts.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’d really like that. I... I didn’t expect this, but I’m glad you asked.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm, her fingers lingering for a moment. “Good,” she said, her tone taking on a more intimate quality.

Spencer felt a surge of excitement mixed with his usual apprehension. The way Y/N looked at him, with that blend of confidence and genuine interest, made him feel like he was worthy of her attention.

“Absolutely,” he said, feeling more confident. “Let’s definitely make plans. I’d like that very much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a mix of relief and satisfaction crossing her face. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, she gave him a warm, lingering smile and a light touch on his arm before heading back towards the group to say her goodbyes. Spencer watched her go, with a brand new phone number in his pocket, feeling a renewed sense of hope and excitement. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection with Y/N might lead.

#spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fandom #bau team #bau family

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deanwritings · 4 months ago

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The Guest House - Chapter 12

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,760

A/N: I'm back! Therapy has been great, I'm feeling like myself and that I can breath again. It's been a tough year and ya girl's mind needed a restart, but I am back and doing good.

Also, hope this chapter can be a bit of escape with the election insanity this week. Take care of yourselves everyone! 💖

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he rests against the door.

What the fuck are you doing? Is all that rings in his mind.

Here he is, with some random girl who's staying in his guest house, put there by his bitch of an ex wife, basically groping her while his mother is a room away. Like he’s seventeen again.

Really and truly. What the fuck. Are. You. Doing?

Dean rubs an exasperated hand down his face, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes before his hands slap down against his sides.

It’s the whiskey. He tells himself. Just the whiskey.

It has nothing to do with your smile. Like when you lit up on the track when you found out Rick would be taking you racing in your dream car.

Nor your smart ass remarks that always seem to be waiting behind those pretty lips of yours. Or how you drive him crazy in the best and worst ways. Like making him say “please” in the garage this afternoon.

It definitely has nothing to do with the way you look at him, no longer with disdain, but more recently with shining Y/E/C eyes and something that makes him want to throw you against this damn door, his nose running down the delicate skin of your neck as he takes you in as his hands explore every part of you.

It also doesn’t help how you react to him; like when he turned your manners game around on you in the garage, and your eyes lit up in a way that made him want to throw you across the hood of Baby and have his way with you. Then just now in the hallway, how you seemed to want this as much as he did. How you leaned into him at his touch, the feel of your curves everywhere as he held you against him.

Those god damn hips.

Dean’s jaw tightens at the thought, his teeth grinding down as something besides his heart rate starts to rise.

Fuck. His head falls back with a thud against the doorframe.

Y/N is hardly the first woman he’s been attracted to since his separation from Lisa. Hell, in the beginning, women were what kept his mind off his imploded marriage. Benny had laughed that Dean was making up for lost time since he and Lisa had gotten together when they were so young, but in reality, Dean just hated coming home to an empty house every day. All he could think of was Lisa and Gavin in his house. In his bed.

But Dean would be lying to himself if this was only attraction. Ever since their hike, he’s found himself looking towards your cabin everyday before work, hoping to catch a glance of you before he has to leave. When sitting at his empty dining table, he would think about texting you, or maybe even going over and knocking on the cabin door, envisioning interrupting your own meal and riling you up in the process. Watching that fire come alive in you set something alive in Dean. It was like a wildfire, and he was happily caught in its path. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that. Somehow, at some point, you had drawn him in, and god damn did he want more. So much more.

And it’s not just your body he wants to get to know. He’s found himself wondering what your favorite color is, or what movies you like to watch. He wanted to know, besides him, what made you tick? What makes you happy?

Could I make her happy?

Dean shakes his head and toes his boots off, shaking his head, trying to rid his thoughts of you. He doesn’t want to think about that last question, because he knows the answer.

And while he tries to focus on undressing, his body is not willing to let go of the idea of you just yet.

He’s wound up, and god damnit did he need a release.

He undoes his belt and reaches into his boxers, feeling himself strain against the fabric as he takes a deep breath. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut before pulling his hand out of his pants.

He shakes his head. He can’t do this. Not with you a wall away and his mother across the hall. He has some self respect. Not much, but he couldn’t sink as low as jerking off to you while you slept in his little brother’s room.

Sam.

And just like that, thinking of Sammy snaps him out of it. He relaxes with a deep breath, the tension finally beginning to fade away.

For extra measure, he pushes himself off the door and pulls it open, striding quickly down the hall to the unoccupied bathroom. He locks the door behind him and reaches into the shower and throws the water on. He drops his undone pants, letting them and his boxers pool around his feet before stepping out of them and throwing his sweater over his head before stepping into the shallow tub.

He takes in a sharp breath as the cold spray of the shower meets his heated skin, his teeth clenched tight as he drowns himself under the stream as he works to think about anything but you.

Your eyes flutter open, a glimmer of the morning sun sneaking through the gaps of the curtained window. You take in a deep breath, flipping from your side to your back and sigh as you look up at the ceiling.

Your mind is still reeling from last night; Dean’s hands holding you tight against him, his lips teasing your neck.

You shut your eyes and swallow.

It was simultaneously one of the hottest and most frustrating things a man has ever done to you. Of course you had wished he had done a hell of a lot more, but the tease of it somehow made it that much more exciting. It made you wonder what else was in store for you. Just a sweet little taste of the possibilities that was Dean Winchester.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you, and you shake off last night’s memories as you lean over to pick it up, the screen reading 9:52 with a few notifications beneath it.

Shit. You quickly sit up. Normally, this would be a regular wakeup time for you on vacation or on the weekends, but you were a guest in someone’s home, and it felt incredibly rude to be up here sleeping while they were most likely downstairs waiting for you.

As you scramble out of bed, the throb from last night’s wine is front and center in your head. You reach into your purse and throw back two Advil with a swash of water that you set out on your bedside last night before you throw on some fuzzy socks and a hoodie large enough to snuggle yourself into.

Before you reach for the door, you peek at yourself in the full-length mirror and grimace. You smooth down your hair and give it a fluff with your fingers before you reach into your makeup bag, dabbing on some concealer under your eyes and on a few of your red spots, with a light swipe of subtle blush on your cheeks before you deem you look good enough without looking like you’re trying.

You take a deep breath and open the door, taking in the quiet hallway and noticing both the doors to Mary and Dean’s rooms are ajar.

Fuck. You were at least hoping Dean might have also slept in after last night. But no such luck.

You head down the stairs, your hand on the rail so you don’t slip in your socks before you wander into the kitchen. Mary is sitting at the table in front of the windows, one of her legs propped up and her head hidden by a book. Dean is hunched on a barstool at the island, a plate of food in front of him, currently being shoveled into his mouth, his usual caveman behavior, you’ve noticed, when it comes to food.

“Morning,” you offer softly as you head over to the coffee maker, a half pot waiting for you. Mary had given you a tour of the kitchen while you cooked dinner last night, and you reach into the cabinet above the brewer and grab a light yellow ceramic mug and fill it about 3/4s of the way.

“Milk’s in the fridge.” Dean mumbles over the food in his mouth and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are cast down at a paper spread flat in front of him next to his breakfast. A smile you hadn’t intended falls at his lack of attention and you head over to the fridge, pouring until your coffee resembles the color of sand. Exactly how you liked it.

“Want some coffee with that milk?” That deep voice rings out again, and this time when you look up, you’re met with Dean’s enchanting, forest eyes. Your heart skips a beat in your chest and you recap the milk before putting it away and closing the fridge door.

“Some of us enjoy flavor.” You smirk at him as you lean against the counter behind you, your hands wrapped tightly around the warmed mug, the kitchen cool in this March morning.

“Milk doesn’t have flavor.” Dean grumbles, shoving a fork filled with eggs into his mouth. You frown at him.

It’s like the tale of two Deans. The suave, sexy sweatered Dean who looks at you like he’ll throw you over your shoulder and make you scream until your voice is hoarse, and the pain-in-the-ass, mannerless idiot you’ve mostly grown accustomed to these last few weeks.

Looks like you were getting the idiot this morning. You sigh at your own disappointment and swallow down your frown, wondering what that means about last night.

When you don’t respond, Dean looks back to you, a question in his eyes.

“There’s a plate for you in the oven.” Dean points his fork to said appliance. You turn your head, following the direction of his utensil-turned-compass.

“Oh,” your shoulders drop. “You didn’t have to save me a plate.” You feel your cheeks flush at the thought that they waited for you so long this morning that they had to keep a plate warm for you in the oven.

“Oh don’t worry, Dean made it fresh.” Mary peeks out from behind her book for a quick second before disappearing again behind the cover. Dean drops his fork with a clank and shoots his mother a look, one she misses.

You push off the counter and pad over to the oven. You pull open the door to find a blue ceramic plate.

No way.

You pull out the plate from the oven, the platter only slightly warm, and are greeted with two pancakes and a side of bacon.

You quickly close the oven and turn on your heel facing Dean.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice catches in your throat as you stare down at the fluffy buttermilk pancakes sitting poised on the plate.

“Yeah, well, mom made eggs and I know your picky ass won’t eat those. Can’t have you starve before a big day.” Dean’s eyes met yours for only a moment before he shifts on the barstool and returns to his paper.

You smile, even though Dean’s not looking at you anymore. You maneuver around the kitchen, grabbing a fork and knife before settling down at the island, a barstool between you and Dean.

You turn and look at him, his shapely jawline adorned with a devilish level of scruff.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly. This catches Dean’s attention, his gaze finding and holding yours long enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Don’t mention it.” He lingers on you for a moment longer before turning back to his paper and flipping a page.

Your lips quirk but you try to not think too much on it as you begin digging in; the pancakes, buttery and full of vanilla, melting deliciously in your mouth.

The rest of breakfast goes on in silence; Mary reading her book, Dean focused on the paper, and you left flipping through your phone since no one seemed interested in chatting.

As you load up your dishes in the dishwasher, Dean folders his paper up and slaps it down on the counter before sitting up straight and crossing his arms as he stares you down.

“Think you can be ready in an hour?” Your face falls.

“More notice would have been nice, but yes, I can be ready in an hour.”

“Good, cause we’re leaving in an hour.” You cross your arms, matching his stance.

“You don’t say.” Dean rolls his eyes at you and you huff.

“Just go get ready.” He shakes his head, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

Such a pain in the ass. A handsome pain with a handsome ass. But still a pain.

“Fine. See you in an hour.”

Forty-seven minutes later, you’re showered, your hair is dried and curled into a soft wave, and you’re putting on the finishing touches of your makeup when there’s a soft knock on your door.

You peek at your watch.

“I still have thirteen minutes!” You call out.

Dean really was pushing the boundaries today. And it was driving you crazy.

He practically dry humps you last night, ignores you this morning, but makes you a delicious breakfast because he remembered you hate eggs. The man was impossible and it was starting to annoy you. And frustrate you, in a way you were not used to. You bite down on your lip.

“It’s just me.” Mary’s gentle voice calls back.

Shit.

You drop your mascara into your makeup bag and push yourself off the floor and scurry to the door.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize as soon as Mary comes into view. “I assumed you were Dean.” You offer a half smile as Mary chuckles.

“It’s okay. Mind if I come in.” You step aside and open the door fully, allowing Mary to step in.

“I just wanted to see if you need any help with your outfit.”

“My outfit?” Your brow furrows, and you look over to your bed where your black chunky sweater and jeans lay waiting for you. Mary’s eyes follow your line of sight.

“I’m going to guess Dean didn’t give you a heads up, since men never think about these things, but these car shows tend to be on the dresser side.”

Fuck. No, Dean did not tell you that. Your jeans were the nicest thing you brought with you.

“Yeah, he failed to mention that.” Now you stare at your outfit, anxiety flooding through you at the thought of sticking out for being underdressed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Mary just smiles at you.

“Come with me.” She waves at you before heading out of the room, and like you’re told, you follow her, heading across the hall and into her bedroom.

The room is large and full of windows and natural light. The lake-chic theme of the downstairs continues through the primary bedroom, with white furniture, a canopy bed with a blue bedspread that matches the wainscot walls, and yellow accents throughout the room. On one of the dressers is a large, framed, selfie of Mary and John, which looks more recent than a lot of the pictures in the living room. Mary’s smile is bright as ever as John kisses her cheek, the two of them in heavy jackets and beanie hats, the hint of snow behind them.

Mary continues through the room, stopping in a short hallway before disappearing through a doorway.

“I’ve got a few options that will probably fit you.” Mary’s muffled voice carries through the open doorway before she steps back into view, several hangers in her hand. “You look to be about my size from twenty years ago. And luckily I’m terrible at throwing out old clothes.” She chuckles as she lays out her six options on the ombre comforter that probably matches the lake when it’s not frozen.

They’re all a mix of dresses, different colors and styles, but the fifth from the end catches your eye.

“Ohh, how about that one.”

Dean taps his foot as he waits in the foyer, checking his watch again. It’s now been an hour and seven minutes since you went upstairs.

“God dammit woman,” he mutters out in a sigh.

He meant to tell you last night what time you had to be ready, but the two of you got a little preoccupied. Now he was paying for it by not giving you more of a heads up.

He should have said something the moment you came downstairs this morning, but he wasn't ready to face you right at that moment. The dreams he had about you last night made it hard to look you in the eyes. And when he finally did, you looked absolutely beautiful, sleep still in your Y/E/C eyes and a glow in your cheeks. You looked like you belonged here, resting against the counter in his mother’s kitchen, cozied up in some giant hoodie and pajama pants with coffee-flavored milk in your hands.

The floor above him creaks and he turns quickly on his heel, his face dropping with his mood when he sees who it is.

“Is she ready yet?” Dean all but whines to his mother as she descends. Rather than answer him, she stops two steps from the bottom, standing slightly higher than her statuesque son, and smacks him right in the side of the head.

“Ow!” Dean’s hand jumps to where his mother landed her stinging blow. Not that there was much power behind her swat, but she hasn’t smacked him like this since he was a teenager.

“What the hell was that for?” Dean bemoans with a grimace, cradling his head.

“Dean Michael Winchester.” Dean’s eyebrows furrow at his mother’s use of his full name.

This was not good.

“You didn’t think,” Mary takes another step down. “To one,” she raises a finger. “Tell her that the car show is cocktail attire.”

Shit.

“And two.” The second finger goes up. “What time to be ready. So don’t you stand here with a puss face asking when she’s going to be ready.” Dean drops his hand at his mother’s scolding and rolls his eyes.

He starts to shake his head when Mary’s hand makes contact again, the surprise sending Dean stumbling.

“OW!” Dean yells louder this time, more annoyed than actually hurt. With how much smaller Mary was compared to him, Dean doubted she could actually hurt him even if she really wanted to.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Dean.” Her voice is sharp as her grass-green eyes stare him down.

“I’m sorry, fine.” Dean concedes. “I just didn’t think about it.” But Mary doesn’t break eye contact.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes.” Mary gives him one last pointed look before taking the final step down and disappearing into the living room.

Dean watches her go before glancing back towards the empty staircase, sighing out his frustration and giving you a few more minutes of grace.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, Dean is leaning against the frame of the front door when the upstairs landing groans again.

Dean’s head whips in that direction as he pushes off the door, just in time to see you take the first step. You’re wearing the black heeled boots you had on yesterday, but it’s paired with a strapless beige dress, the edges trimmed in black with a matching belt wrapped tight around the gentle curve of your waist.

Without thinking, Dean lets out a low, impressed whistle, ignoring the pounding in his chest as he stands up just a little straighter.

Your hair is down, styled off to one side, with the most makeup Dean has seen you in so far; with full, dark lashes, pink cheeks, and bright red lips, which Dean can’t seem to look away from.

Something else is starting to stand a little straighter too.

Dean clears his throat, and offers out a hand as you get to the last step.

“Thanks,” you reply gently before you drop his hand and head for the coat rack.

“You look nice.” Dean’s now taking in the view of you from the back, leaving little to the imagination like those workout pants did a few weeks ago as the dress seemed to hug your body perfectly.

Damn. And here mom thought you weren’t prepared.

You spin on your heel, one arm shimming into your jacket sleeve, your eyes as bright at your smile.

“Thanks.” You repeat. “The dress is your mom’s.” You smirk.

Dean’s mouth drops open as his stomach falls.

“Please don’t tell me that.” Dean groans. The last thing he needs to think about is his mom in that dress. The same dress he was just checking out your ass in.

You just quietly chuckle as your other arm flails for your second sleeve, just missing the opening.

Without a word, Dean steps closer, grabbing your jacket for you and holding it steady so you can slip your arm into. Once it’s in, Dean raises your jacket just a bit before resting it on your shoulders.

You turn back to him with a smile of thanks, which he can’t help but return.

“Ready?”

“Sure am.”

Dean opens the front door for you and you step outside into the bracing afternoon air.

“Have fun, kids!” Mary’s voice travels behind the two of you as Dean steps outside and closes the door behind him.

You take gentle steps across the driveway, avoiding the few patches of ice that are still lingering. This gives Dean the opening he needs to step in front of you, getting to the passenger door of the Impala about three steps ahead of you.

Without a word, he pulls open the door.

“Wow, getting the full gentleman treatment today, huh.” Your cheek dimples with your half smile as you lower yourself into the passenger seat. Dean smiles down at you.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” You chuckle as Dean gently shuts the door before heading around to the driver’s seat and hopping in.

With one last check of the mirrors, Dean backs out of the driveway, and the two of you were off.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #the guest house

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m1ckeyb3rry · 13 days ago

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Synopsis: Sunday is your mirror, as you are his — or, how meeting him spells your doom, just like losing you spells his.

HSR Masterlist

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warnings: female reader, second person in some parts and third person sunday pov in others, religious themes because…it’s sunday…, not canon compliant because idk wtf happened in penacony and i don’t feel like figuring it out, not lore compliant either because i’m #toocool for that, ooc because i wanted to make sunday a freak, major character death but not really on screen just mentioned/implied, unreliable narrators, halovians are Very Different (both from their canon depictions and from humans in general), robin mentioned but she’s also probs ooc idfk i’ve never written for honkai star rail and i’ve played for like a month tops, sunday is a d1 piner, sunday loses it, sunday crashes out, weird narrative structure, very nonsensical, in terms of endings we have no endings (it’s like open to interpretation ig), m1ckeyb3rry’s monthly drop of MID

A/N: i wrote this really quickly for my beloved illu’s birthday!! unfortunately i didn’t get the idea until like two days after the date itself so it’s a bit late LMAOO also it sucks but. it has SUNDAY !! my first foray into the hsr verse…hehe…anyways illu i could go on about how much i appreciate you and how glad i am that we’re friends but for the sake of conciseness i shall leave it at HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY GOAT @milksnake-tea I LOOK FORWARD TO ANOTHER YEAR OF CRASHING OUT TOGETHER 🙂‍↕️💖 LOVE AND KISSES I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS A BIT!!!

There is a ghost waiting for him in the confessional booth. Velvet curtains cover the latticed wood, obscuring its contents from his view, but the effect comes to nothing. He knows she’s there, he always does, he can feel her presence. It’s a chill seeping into his bones as he kneels — he doesn’t need to kneel, of course he doesn’t need to, but it’s a habit he’s yet unwilling to break — and clasps his hands together. It’s a supplication for something, but it isn’t until his mouth is opening of its own volition, his wings fluttering in alarm and his eyes widening as the words are wrenched from his lips, that he realizes what he’s begging for.

“Please,” he whispers. His voice echoes in the empty room, mocking him, teasing him. Please. Please. What right does he have to ask her anything? He’s sure that’s what she’s thinking. He’s sure she’s laughing in that odd way of hers, and his throat constricts at the image. “Please—”

Forgive me? It reverberates in his mind, that fragment of a thought, jagged at the edges, sharp like a blade and twice as cruel. Isn’t that it? Forgive me. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.

“Condemn me,” he says instead, and then he’s struck by a burst of anger, hot and unyielding and entirely at odds with the weight of his tongue in his mouth, which is all leaden and unwieldy and clumsy and despicable. “Condemn me or forgive me or what have you!”

He waits, as he always does. One, two, three. He counts on his fingers, an invisible metronome ticking in his mind, mechanical and perfect in rhythm, keeping time for his vigil. Four, five, six. The curtain flutters in a phantom breeze, and for a second he can pretend that he sees a flash of bright in the darkness of the booth, a dancing shade like a glittering iris peering back at him. Seven, eight, nine. He doesn’t care what she says. He doesn’t care about any of it. As long as she says something, it’s fine. Condemn me. Forgive me. He’s not sure which he would prefer at this point.

Ten.

The ghost is silent.

The first time you met Sunday, it was raining. Everything about him was limp in the storm — his clothes, the fabric clinging to his slender frame; his hair, spilling onto his pale brow and trailing down his mannequin-straight back; even his wings, which drooped miserably towards his shoulders, the preened feathers translucent at the edges from dampness.

When he turned to glance at you, you expected his demeanor to shimmer with the famous benevolence of his family. Sunday Oak, the heir, the young lord; certainly there would be a kindness to him, a gentleness permeating throughout the very essence of his being. Certainly he had been born a saint, anointed in the waters of his mother’s womb before he could even draw breath, incapable of humanity’s many shortcomings and fallacies. Certainly these things were true, and that was why it frightened you all the more when, for one singular moment, his impassive mien crumpled into a glare, as baleful as it was captivating.

His eyes were a sharp, canny gold, feline in both shape and shrewdness, framed by lashes clumped together with wet. They were terrible in the way of a dying star, that peculiar brand of horror so beautiful that it was impossible to look away, and indeed you stood transfixed until he cleared his throat and arranged his face into a polite smile.

“I wasn’t aware we had visitors today,” he said. He spoke carefully, perfunctorily, reading from a script he must’ve memorized long ago. You stiffened, for although he had not given you any reason to think it, you were suddenly very certain that you were not supposed to see him like this, his fingers curling over the slick rail of his balcony, his dark abdominal wings folded tightly over his stomach and his halo dull in whatever light struggled through the clouded sky.

“I was just leaving,” you said. “I must have made a wrong turn. I apologize for disturbing you, sir.”

“You needn’t apologize,” he said, and there he was, the man who you had expected: Sunday, the scion of the Oak Family. Gracious Sunday; magnanimous Sunday; Sunday the prince and Sunday the saint. He was so finely constructed it made you wince, his blinding delicacy and keen refinement eerie, preternatural. A baser instinct of yours told you to run, reminding you of a time when those of his kind ruled over humanity with impunity, pleading with you to save yourself before it was too late.

You bit back your fear so hard that blood exploded over your palate, salty and sweet in turn, viscous as you swallowed it back and offered him a smile. He did not return it in full, but the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. That should’ve been soothing, but it only served to worsen the electric anxiety running through your veins.

“I shall call my sister and tell her to fetch you,” he said. “I would hate for you to find the Oaks remiss in our hospitality. I am sincerely sorry that you were not given an escort earlier.”

There were so many things you could say to him. I ran. Does that make me remiss? I’m the one who ran from them. You could reassure him, promise him that you would be alright on your own and there was no need for Robin to come. You could do any of these things, yet you were frozen like an insect in the amber of his stare, and so you did not.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing slightly, lowering your eyes to his leather shoes in a valiant attempt to free yourself, “for your generosity.”

“Do you think it’s possible for people to forgive themselves?” he asks his sister. They’re sitting in the parlor, porcelain teacups in their hands, pinkie fingers raised primly in the air. His sister’s cup is chipped at the base, but every time he tries to throw it away, she pitches a fit, which is so uncharacteristic of her that it renders him speechless. This one is special, she insists. There’s doves painted on it. See?

It isn’t special, there’s countless others exactly like it, but he caves to her whims far too easily, as he always does. He’s prone to it, after all; she wants for things so rarely as it is, which means denying her few requests when she makes them is nigh-impossible. So he allows her to keep the ruined cup, on the condition that in his presence, she holds it in her left hand, for he never wants to see the blemish again.

“I’m not sure,” she says. Her voice is always dreamy, but as of late there’s been a tangible sadness to it. He’s asked her what’s troubling her countless times, but his every attempt is met with a shake of her head and a solemn oath that it’s nothing. “Maybe.”

“I don’t think that it is,” he says. “At least not at first. You can’t forgive yourself before you’re forgiven by anyone else.”

“If you were already so sure of the answer, brother,” she says, cocking her head at him, “then why did you ask?”

“Hm?” he says, furrowing his brow. She takes a sip of her tea, and maybe it’s the angle or maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he swears that that dammed chip is taunting him, smarting like a peeled-off scab.

“It’s a strange practice of yours,” his sister says, batting her eyes at him in a way that makes him feel shrunken and tiny, as if she knows everything and he knows nothing, although by all rights it’s the other way around.

“What do you mean by that?” he presses, voice coming out harsher than he’d like. Cringing, he sets his teacup down and folds his hands in his lap. “My apologies, sister. I — I did not mean to speak to you in that way.”

She raises her drink to her lips, smiling at him over the dove-painted rim, and says nothing more.

Robin Oak was like nightshade, the most beautiful flower you had ever seen and, incidentally, the most poisonous. She was lilac where Sunday was silver and sapphire where he was gold, but although the edges of her halo and her face were rounder than her brother’s, as malleable as he was rigid, she was no softer than he. Perhaps she was even colder for it, all the more deadly, unassuming and quiet, poised to strike with a warbling song and a tittering giggle.

“Hello,” she said, and although the two of you were ostensibly having a normal conversation, she still talked like there was a song in her voice, her cadence lyrical and amused. “We’ve been looking for you for a while.”

“I didn’t go very far,” you said, following after her as she navigated the hallways without hesitation.

“Of course not,” she agreed. “But who would’ve thought you’d end up in Sunday’s room?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” you said, cheeks heating up at the sly implication. “I sincerely thought I had happened upon some study or restroom where I might recuperate.”

“He does keep his surroundings austere,” she said. “I’ve tried to convince him to hang up paintings or photographs, but he refuses. He’s like that.”

“I see,” you said, as neutrally as possible. Robin must’ve sensed your disinterest, for with a soft, breathy, chuckle, she steered the conversation away from her brother and to another subject entirely.

“Ah, you mentioned recuperation? Do parties tire you, too?” she said, and maybe it was manipulation or maybe it was genuine kindness, but it disarmed you all the same. Bashfully, you nodded, your shoulders hunching in on themselves involuntarily as you continued down the corridor.

“They are exhausting. I can never handle them for more than a few minutes at a time,” you confessed. She wrapped an arm around your torso, a companionable vice of a grip, and although you shouldn’t have been, you were surprised to feel that her skin was blazing to the touch.

“Nor can I,” she said. “There’s a commonality. Let’s be friends.”

It was a command, not a request. You knew better than to believe that Robin Oak would request anything; the world was at her feet, the universe shifting so that her words became truth, so why would she bother with questions and hesitance the way the rest of you did? She was no more human than Sunday. She was even less, only just as good at pretending, at painting on a doll-like mask to disguise her lies.

“Well, then it is a pleasure to be your friend,” you said.

“Don’t talk like that,” she protested.

“Like what?” you said.

“Like I’m somebody important, or like I have a status worthy of only the highest respect,” she said.

“But you do,” you said. She nudged you in the side with some measure of eagerness.

“No, no, forget about that,” she said. “I’m just like you, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, even though that could not be further from the truth, even though she could not be further from you.

“I swear on truth,” he says to the congregation, the beige churchgoers in their beige robes with adoration sparkling in their devoted eyes. “I swear on the calendar. I swear on words. I swear on values. I swear on rules. I swear on meaning. I swear on—”

A chill rushes down his spine, icy fingers grabbing onto the roots of his wings and yanking. He hisses under his breath, prayers of rebuke and protection, nails digging into his palms as he chants furiously, lips moving too fast for the gatherers to understand what he is doing.

Anxious murmurs arise like the songs of a choir the longer and longer he is frozen. Somebody coughs. A child whines audibly. He continues his chanting.

Ena, the Order; Xipe, the Harmony; defend me in this tribulation. Curse this evil, bind its spirit and banish it to whence it came. I swear on truth, I swear on the calendar, I swear on words, I swear on values, I swear on rules, I swear on meaning, I swear on—

The hair by the nape of his neck is ruffled, and then the sensation vanishes and he is left alone once more. He is grateful for only a moment before he mourns her absence with a sudden savagery that takes even himself by surprise. It’s a contradiction, but she is a contradiction, so it’s fitting. He could never understand her before, so why should it be different now?

Clearing his throat and subtly adjusting his lapels, he raises his hands to silence the throngs of worshippers. They do his bidding at once, and he closes his eyes so that he does not have to see their naïveté at this final part, so that he is speaking to himself and the ghost alone — because nobody else matters in the end.

“I swear,” he says, his heart beating faster and faster until it is almost bursting from his chest and pounding in his skull, “on human dignity.”

What do Halovians know of human dignity?

“Nothing,” he says, responding to the unasked question as he turns away from the others, away from their applause and their grins. His wings cover his eyes and his hands cover his ears as he leaves the cavernous hall, the thunder of laudation fading and fading, replaced with nothing but a whistling, lonely emptiness. “They know nothing.”

He pauses, his eyes darting around surreptitiously. Then, when he is sure he is alone, he continues, under his breath so that no one can hear even if they try very hard to.

“I know nothing.”

He is sure of this much, at least.

On Halovians:

They abide by a so-called “divine creed” which they refuse to divulge to outsiders. However, they maintain that if they break these secretive laws, they are punished severely in what amounts to a foreshortened process of decay. Their holiness and altruism is, thus, not a choice but a compulsion; the one sin they are permitted is lying, and many will spin tall tales as a form of indulgence.

They are comparable in ability to the sirens from Lucyke — indeed, many researchers believe the species share a common ancestor and are one of many examples of divergent evolution found throughout the cosmos. They are nonthreatening when approached, capable of rational thought and intelligent speech, and have advanced societies with defined familial structures; hence, they are classified as a Level 0 Intelligent Species.

His halo is cracking. He doesn’t know when it began, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say he doesn’t want to know, but regardless it’s happening. The burnished gold, once a plain, gleaming expanse, is now marred by thin, unmistakeable fissures in the shape of spiderwebs. At first, he can only stare at his reflection in abject horror, but then he’s stuffing his fist in his mouth and screaming.

What will people think? When they see it, they will know what he has done. It’s tainting him. It’s above him and behind him and all around and he can’t escape, he can’t do anything, his halo is cracking and he’s screaming and she’s there again.

“Stop it,” he snaps. “Stop coming back. If you’re only here to torment me, then — then stop it!”

Is she laughing? She must be. She always laughs at him, always finds him so curious. An oddity. A Halovian. He’s not like her, she’s fond of reminding him, he’s different. He’s born for the Harmony and the sky. He’s born for a purpose greater than hers, with black wings and a bright halo and a tongue made to lie.

“Don’t leave,” he says when she begins to withdraw. “Hey. Hey. Don’t leave — don’t leave me — I can’t — don’t!”

Her absence is like a hole carved into his stomach daily anew, and if his wings weren’t losing their feathers so rapidly, he’d fold them over the gaping wound in an attempt to disguise it, to transform it, to hold himself together until he can once again become whole in earnest.

It’s pitiful. He’s pitiful. He longs for a ghost who he despises, a ghost of his own making, a ghost who is pulling apart his halo and his wings and his sanity alike. She is ruining him and he is powerless to stop her; somewhere deep inside of him, he’s not sure if he even wants to. This is what he’s owed. This is what he deserves. No matter how much he begs, she will not forgive him; no matter how much he prays, he will not forgive himself.

This time when he screams, he does not bother with muffling it.

You were certain that, in the pools of her mind, in places unknowable and unreachable, Robin believed that she loved you. She repeated that lie so often that she fooled everyone, even herself — everyone, of course, but you. You knew the truth. You knew that she never had, that she never would, that she never could.

“This is my very best friend in the entire universe,” she’d say, holding your palm against her heart. “I love her.”

She carried it like a trophy or a weapon, that meaningless phrase. I love her. Lilac instead of silver. Sapphire instead of gold. I am not a Halovian. That was what she really wanted to say. That was what you really meant to her. I am human, too. Treat me like I am human. Talk to me like I am human. Love me like I am human.

I am human.

His sister is worrying about him. He wishes he could allay her concerns like he always does, wishes he could promise that it’s nothing, that he’s fine, but whenever he tries, he can’t. It sticks in his throat, and he’s left to stare at her miserably, helplessly.

“If you need anything…” she murmurs, voice trailing off into nothingness as she pretends like she’s not looking at his halo, which is on the verge of collapse, or at his wings, which are approaching a skeletal state. “Maybe you should stay home today. Someone else can pray.”

“No,” he says. He has to do it. If he doesn’t, then he has nothing left — which is the truth, really, but he can’t accept it. Not yet. “No, I—”

He wants to say I can do it, but the words won’t come. She waits, but when he does not finish his sentence, she only sighs and nods.

“If you think that’s what’s best,” she says. If she’s expecting a response, she won’t get one, or at least not one that’ll satisfy them both. He can’t maintain his facade anymore. Those carefully constructed falsehoods which were once his birthright have abandoned him; now, he is left with nothing but the truth in its harshest form, his eyes sewn open to it and his wings tied back so he can no longer cower behind their trembling defense.

Unlike his sister, Sunday never pretended to love you. Indeed, he treated you no differently than he treated everyone else, keeping a polite, reserved distance between the two of you at all times. He was kind when you spoke, though he tended to avoid such occasions, and he took great pains to ensure that he appeared as harmless as possible, pulling his wings close to his body, averting his eyes from yours and shifting so that his halo was always partially obscured.

Robin told you that he was a proud man, so the fact that he shied away before you meant something. I’ve never seen him like this, she would ponder when he would sidle past, his feathers blending in with his pale hair, a coat thrown over his shoulders and his gaze trained directly ahead even when he greeted you. It’s unlike him.

It’s kind. That was all you ever said when she prodded at you for answers. He’s being kind to me.

Unlike her brother, Robin didn’t understand what that meant, so she would only embrace you, deceptively strong despite her frail figure, wings extending to skim along your skin in what she must’ve considered a sign of affection.

I’m glad you’re getting along, she’d say, and then you’d wonder, invariably, what it’d take to break the chords of her speech. Was she capable of producing dissonance? Or was it one of her many blessings, that avoidance of discord, of cacophony? I’m really glad. I hope one day he loves you, too.

She never asked you to love him back. She never dared to even hope for it.

“I can’t recall you ever laughing at me this much when you were alive,” he says, lying on his bed with his limbs splayed out. He’s looking up at the ceiling, which is bare, as are the walls, and the furniture — entirely by design, of course. Periodically, his wings will flap weakly, wracked with nervous tremors as he waits for her to quiet.

He doesn’t reprimand her anymore. The prospect of chasing her away is unbearable, even more unbearable than the sound of her mirth, which is as wrong to his ears as music from an untuned piano. So he ignores it, and when it is particularly agonizing, he speaks to the empty air, saying everything and nothing all at once in an attempt to silence her.

“You would ask me questions,” he remembers, drumming his fingers against the mattress. “But you wouldn’t laugh. I don’t think you found me amusing, unless I tried very hard to appear that way. I was better at it back then. At becoming what people expected of me.”

She’s not laughing anymore, but he knows she hasn’t vanished yet. She’s there in his periphery, poised to disappear as soon as he turns his head but there nonetheless. Taking advantage of the rare silence, he sits up, hugging his knees to his chest and closing his eyes.

“I didn’t pretend quite as much when it was you,” he says. “You know that, right? By the end, I couldn’t bring myself to at all.”

Does she believe him? He can’t tell. If he were her, he wouldn’t believe himself, so likely not. Exhaling heavily, he collapses backwards, tangling himself into a pile of blankets that he pulls over his shoulders.

“I should have lied to you more often,” he says, eyes drifting shut. “Maybe things would be different if I had.”

On Halovians:

Halovians are the only Level 0 Intelligent Species that do not choose long-term mates, although there is evidence to suggest that in the distant past, they remained with the same partner for life. According to legend, this is because they gave up fidelity for falsehood, trading their ability to love eternally for their freedom to lie at will.

Research disagrees with this old story, and many alternate theories have been proposed. The most common and widely-accepted is the claim that the Halovians once faced extinction and thus had to procreate at speed, leading to a permanent shift in their mating habits. The most substantial proof for this, of course, is the otherwise-inexplicable population boom…

You couldn’t say for certain when you began visiting Sunday in his room. It had happened so suddenly and yet so gradually that by the time you realized what you were doing, it was too late for you to stop. He never did anything untoward — you doubted he was capable of it — staying at his desk and scowling at his work while you wandered about, familiarizing yourself with the confines of the space.

“Why don’t you decorate?” you asked him one day.

“Decorations are only needless distractions,” he responded promptly, signing a paper with a flourish that, somehow, represented his name. Sunday Oak. You didn’t know how something so enormous and grand could be summed into two squiggles and a cross, but he seemed confident of it, so who were you to question the method? “I cannot fathom sleeping with such clutter surrounding me.”

“I see,” you said, and that was the end of it.

Your conversations with him typically went as such, endless games of question-and-answer, where you would ask whatever was on your mind and he would respond as truthfully as he was able. You often wondered when he would grow tired of it, of you, but he never did. You asked Robin why it was so, and she only shrugged enigmatically.

“Maybe he’s glad to be the one speaking for once,” she said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“You ought to ask him,” she said. “He might not tell anyone else, but if it’s you…if it’s you, then he’ll definitely answer.”

His sister’s hands are frigid on his shoulders. She’s warm by anyone else’s standards, but for a Halovian, she’s always been cold. Even when she was born, half the size she should’ve been and with eyes as boundless as the sky, she was freezing, a shivering slip of a baby shoved into his arms by his bleeding mother.

“Your halo is breaking,” she says to him, but she’s angry, her melodic voice wavering as her fingers dig into his muscle, shaking him back and forth. “It’s breaking. Why is it breaking?”

She’s glaring at him, tears welling at her lash-line. He wants to reach out his hand and wipe them away, but more will replace them in an instant, so what is the point? She shakes him again, harder and harder, and he allows her, because he’ll always allow her impulses, and because he’s never seen her like this before.

“Why?” she says. “Why is it breaking? Tell me what you did, brother, tell me what you did!”

She isn’t asking because she wants him to give her the answer. She’s asking because she wants him to deny it, to tell her that she’s wrong, that the conclusion she’s arrived at is incorrect somehow. Once, he could’ve. He could’ve made up some story about tragedy and misfortune, and she would’ve believed him, as she always did.

That was their relationship. He lied and she believed him. She asked and he obliged her. But now that he can not lie and she has nothing to ask for, what is left?

“You know already,” he says. She gasps in the manner of an injured animal, berry-stained lips parting, indubitably to hurl accusations at him.

He doesn’t think he can handle hearing them, not from his sister of all people, so he leaves before he gets the chance.

“Does it feel strange when people touch your wings?” you said. Sunday was in his bed today, afflicted by some illness of the lungs, and you were rummaging through his bookshelf, pulling out volumes at random before putting them back where you had found them.

“Huh? Why do you ask?” he said, raising a porcelain cup to his lips. It was prescription, a medicine reeking of menthol but wearing the guise of peppermint tea — the only way, according to Robin, that he would drink it. A servant had brought it and presented it to him with a bow, walking out of the room with a look thrown at you over their shoulder, concern and envy blending into something razor-thin and cutting.

“I don’t have any,” you explained, taking out a book and tracing your fingers along the gold lettering of the title. “I can’t fathom what it’d be like.”

“Come here,” he said, and although it was mildly done, you obeyed immediately. You could never forget what he was, not completely, no matter how hard he tried to make it so that you did. You would always be human and he would always be Halovian; this fundamental disconnect was insurmountable, and anyways, you had no interest in surmounting it. It’d serve you well to remember these many little differences between yourself and the Oak siblings, between yourself and Sunday in particular.

He extended his hand, the palm facing up, and dipped his chin towards it. You tilted your head in confusion, for the act was all but inexplicable, and at this he smiled. He did not smile very frequently, and it transformed his face when he did, lighting it up, turning it into something close to human — not quite, but close. Closer than he ever was otherwise.

“Here,” he said, setting aside his teacup and using his other hand to place yours against his, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and then waiting. “Does that feel strange?”

“No,” you said.

“It’s the same for me,” he said. “To you, my wings are bizarre and outlandish, but to me and those of my kind, they are simply another body part. No more or less fantastical than an arm or an ankle.”

“Ah,” you said. He settled back against the cushions of his bed, allowing the wings by his ears to stretch out comfortably, closing his eyes and letting out an exhale that shook with the remnants of a cough.

“You want to touch them,” he said. He phrased it as a statement, not a question, and when you paused before answering, his smile grew imperceptibly larger. “I don’t mind it.”

“You don’t?” you said. He shrugged.

“It’s only fair,” he said, pressing down on the point where your veins nearly surfaced, tapping in time with your pulse before drawing his hands back and clasping them together in the cavity below his ribcage. “I wouldn’t have told you you could if I’d hold any resentment for it.”

“Aren’t Halovians known for lying?” you said. He snorted.

“Have you been doing your research?” he said.

“It’s common knowledge,” you said.

“We are,” he said. “But I swear I will always tell you the truth.”

“How can I believe that? What if that’s just another one of your lies?” you said. He cracked one eye open so that he could peek at you, and whatever he saw must’ve proven your seriousness, for he hummed in thought, carefully considering your words.

“I suppose you can’t,” he said. “It’s your prerogative. Do as you’d like, then.”

He closed his eyes again, which you supposed was his version of an invitation. Waiting until his breathing stilled and he was caught in some form of repose — whether he was truly unconscious or not escaped you, but either way he was certainly in some altered state of mind — you extended your arm and brushed your index finger against his feathers.

They were as soft as you had anticipated, cottony and shapeless compared to the firm flight-feathers of the pitch-dark wings jutting out at his sides. The bones were hollow and slight, as if you could break them only by taking them into your fist and squeezing. This was such a contradiction to the appearance he so carefully maintained that your heart softened to him despite your greatest efforts to guard it.

“Those ones are mostly down,” he said, startling you out of your daze. You had assumed he was asleep and had allowed your movements to become casual and complacent. Jerking your hand back as if he had burnt it — which he just as well might have, given the temperature of his body — you held it to your chest and took an involuntary step back while he adjusted himself in his nest of bedding. “In antiquity, back when we still ruled the skies and rarely touched the ground, it was considered a sign of friendship for Halovians to groom one another’s upper-wing feathers.”

“And now?” you said.

“And now it means nothing,” he said. “Fetch me a new cup of tea if you have the time. This one has grown cold, and I am yet unwell.”

The feathers he used to be so proud of are fraying at the edges. He hasn’t cared for them in so long, hasn’t carefully misted them or doused them in diluted soap in ages, and now they have come to this. Scraggly and broken and bent and wrong.

Sticking a finger in his mouth, he rubs it along his teeth and the bitten flesh of his inner cheeks. Decay. This is decay. He’s seen it so many other times, in so many other forms, but never did he think he’d experience it himself. And least of all so quickly! Yet it has come for him, as it comes for everyone in the end.

He finds it’s different this time. It’s different when he’s the one who’s dying.

“They say it haunts us,” Sunday said. His arm was heavy over your waist, his blankets pulled up over your chin and tucked tightly around your shoulders. Your forehead was flush with his collarbones, your eyes fluttering shut as he played with the hem of your shirt while he spoke. “The first time we kill something. It haunts us to death.”

“Is that why you’re vegetarian?” you joked.

“Yes,” he said, and although he sounded grave, you could tell he was joking, too. “Can you imagine being followed around by the ghost of a chicken and then dying while it watches?”

“A horrible way to go,” you said, laughing at the image of Sunday plugging his ears and running from the shadow of a bird as it chased him, his own wings flapping furiously as it squawked at him with no small amount of indignation.

“Indeed,” he said with a laugh of his own. Then, after a pause, he hummed thoughtfully. “You should laugh more often.”

“I’ve been told my laugh is grating,” you said.

“It’s not,” he said. “Not at all.”

“Then I shall endeavor to do as you ask,” you said. “I will laugh until you tell me to stop.”

“I’ll never tell you to stop,” he promised, and you should’ve known better than to trust him, because he was a Halovian and donning that impenetrable mask of his was a part of his nature, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You did, you trusted him more than anything or anyone, and didn’t that make you a fool? A happy, laughing one, maybe — but a fool nonetheless.

He is close to collapse when he drags himself to his bathroom. Leaning over the counter of his sink, he grips the marble edge, noticing in fascination that his knuckles are almost as white as the stone. He almost can’t endure the thought of looking in the mirror, but in a last burst of inspiration, he drags his gaze up to his haggard reflection.

His heart skips a beat when he realizes he’s not alone. Standing there, beside and behind him, is her. The ghost. His ghost.

Her face is placid — she’s not laughing, and neither is she frowning. He doesn’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but he can’t change it, so who is he to complain? He waits for her to speak, but she is silent, and he considers calling out for his sister before deciding that this time, this once and never again, he will be selfish.

“It’s you,” he says, reaching out and placing his fingers against the mirror, where the image of her cheek is distorted by imperfections in the silver.

The metal is cold under the involuntary curve of his palm, which tries to follow the contours of her face but finds it to be impossible in the second dimension. Then again, to him, she was always cold, so there’s no difference, except that she is flat where once she was whole, empty where once she was everything.

“I killed you,” he says. It’s the first time he’s spoken it aloud, the first time he’s spit out the words that he’s been dancing around ever since she appeared to him, almost a year ago exactly. Somehow, it feels like a dagger driven into his heart and a weight lifted off of his shoulders simultaneously. If he had the strength, he’d run down the hallways of the mansion and scream it at everyone.

I killed her. I killed her and now I am dying for it. You bowed your heads in reverence to me, and all along I have had this blood on my hands. I killed her! How does it feel to have followed a sinner for so long? How does it feel to know that I am forsaken, and that one day, if you are so lucky, you will be, too?

Sunday’s mouth on yours was hot like a furnace, clumsy and demanding, with a lingering aftertaste like menthol. At first, it alarmed you, the overwhelming sensation, the much of it all, but before you could even pull away, something in the back of your mind twisted, and then you were grasping for anything you could. His hair, his wings, his shirt, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered, you only needed to hold onto him in some way. You could not breathe without him. You could not live without him.

That was your first indication that something was very, very wrong.

On Halovians:

Much like their presumed cousins, the sirens of Lucyke, Halovians are irresistible to their prey. Unlike the sirens, the Halovians no longer hunt; some assume that this must be one of the religious laws they abide by, while others argue that it is mere ecological responsibility.

Simply put, the Halovians were too efficient as hunters. Several lesser species have been driven to extinction by their efforts, and it is only due to the reduction in Halovian numbers, their vows of vegetarianism, and concentrated conservation efforts that the food webs on the Halovians’ native planets have stabilized in recent years.

“Sunday,” you said to him one day, when the sun had not yet risen in the sky. “I think that I will die soon.”

His mouth moved, but no sound came out. No, it seemed he was trying to say. You won’t. His lips formed the words, but they wouldn’t take shape in his throat, wouldn’t bloom into existence, and you watched as he struggled for a while before pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead.

“Yes,” he said.

“It will be your fault when I do,” you said. You weren’t accusing him; you said it simply and plainly. You were dying. It was his fault. He was the curse and the cure, if a mere prolonging of the inevitable could be considered as curing it.

He was quiet for so long that you assumed he had forgotten about the question entirely. You did not begrudge him for it — how would he answer, anyways? There was nothing that he could say which would change it. There was nothing that he could say which would reverse what he had, knowingly or unknowingly, done.

“Yes,” he said when you were halfway to dozing off.

“What?” you mumbled, the contents of the conversation already escaping you.

“Yes,” he said. “It will be my fault.”

The ghost doesn’t say anything, watching him as he turns on the sink and splashes the water onto his face in a futile effort to cool himself off. He’s feverish as he pushes himself back into a semblance of good posture, pacing back and forth along the length of the bathroom. He can only see her in the mirror, and he wonders if he somehow trapped her there or if that’s her way of teasing him; she must find him so absurd, storming away from her visage before crawling back to it like he is starved.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “You must understand that. I didn’t know! Not at first, anyways. I would’ve sent you away. If I had known, I would’ve sent you away…”

He can hear her feet against the tile, copying his own path, but he dares not turn around. What will he see if he does? What emotions will reflect in her eyes? The first time he saw her, it was fear, unadulterated and pure and choking him with its overwhelming intensity. Then, over time, it warmed into something resembling indifference, which in turn became fondness and then, finally, a sick sort of dependence, the former liveliness and curiosity glazed over with vacancy and fixation.

“I did this to you,” he admits. He’s read that accursed book on Halovians and their accursed vestigial organs and accursed archaic hunting methods so many times that he knows this for a fact. He killed her. “But I didn’t — it wasn’t my intention, please, it wasn’t, you must know that. Did you die knowing that?”

When he halts, she halts. When he takes a step forward, she does the same. It’s maddening. He doesn’t want her to echo him. Her steps sound like a prophecy, the drumbeat to a seer’s chant, and they clang in his head, the antithesis to everything he holds precious. Order. Harmony. And then there she is, discord, cacophony, waiting for him at every turn, inescapable and unavoidable.

“It’s the truth!” he snaps. The argument is entirely one-sided; the ghost never speaks to him, after all. She only laughs and sighs in turn, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot convince her to say anything. “I can’t lie anymore. Although, that’s irrelevant; when it comes to you, I haven’t been able to lie in a long time.”

Ena, the Order; Xipe, the Harmony; defend me in this tribulation. Curse this evil, bind its spirit and banish it to whence it came.

I swear on truth. I swear on the calendar. I swear on words. I swear on values. I swear on rules. I swear on meaning. I swear on human dignity.

He’s murmuring every prayer he can think of. They play in an endless loop, springing to his lips at random, more like nonsensical jumbles of words than anything coherent. A prayer for salvation. A prayer for forgiveness. A prayer for protection. A prayer for order. A prayer for harmony. A prayer to banish her. A prayer to bring her back.

A prayer to bring her back. A prayer to bring her back. Bring her back. Bring her back. Bring her back.

“I won’t come back, you know,” she says. That’s the first time he’s heard her voice in so long, and he’s startled to find that it’s almost foreign, like he’s already begun to forget her, like she’s turned into something entirely beyond his understanding.

“Why not?” he says, his voice cracking as he scrambles for purchase against the wall. “I’ll do anything they ask. Anything you ask.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or who you beg,” she says with a snicker. “You can’t bring someone back once you’ve killed them. You should’ve regretted it earlier; it’s meaningless now. Well, anyways, I have a question for you.”

He swallows but nods, his back to her, vision blurring out of focus as he squints at the plain wall in front of him.

“If you could meet me again, would you?” she says.

“Yes,” he says without thinking, because of course he would. How could he not?

“Knowing that it would kill me?” she adds, giggling.

Is this what it’s like for those who he interrogates? Now he is the one who cannot hide behind the comfort of fabrication, who must strip himself bare to an unsympathetic audience. He hates it, in truth. He hates it more than anything, but — but he doesn’t hate her, so clenching his jaw, he nods once more.

“Yes,” he says.

“Oh, my,” she says. “How romantic. Careful, or I’ll think you really do love me.”

He whirls around. “I do—!”

There’s nobody there. He wonders if there ever was.

#sunday x reader #sunday x y/n #sunday x you #sunday #sunday hsr #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #reader insert #canon au #hierophant #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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sleepymothafterhours · 2 months ago

Text

Rough day made rougher

Inspired by @indiewritesxoxo! (hi this is my side blog!) I love her cyberbully!sukuna series so much and i think everyone should go read all her works right now(that is your homework)

Divider Credits: @cafekitsune

Synopsis: After a rough day at work you just wanna wind down by playing your favorite game with your favorite guy, but hwat happens when he gets a little too mean and drives you over the edge :(

Warnings: mean Kuna, Bully!Sukuna, lmk if theres anything else

Word Count: 1080 Full fic under the cut, check sleepy moths after thoughts at the end for more <3

Thirty more minutes. That's what you kept telling yourself at least. Thirty more minutes and you could get in your car and speed home, get in your pajamas(and away from this cold, wet, and stupid drive thru window). you could make hot chocolate and sit at your desk and play your game to get your mind off it.

Though playing alone is never that much fun, you wonder if Sukuna will log on tonight when he always does. After months of him helping you learn the mechanics, you could finally get through a match without him raging(very much) at you.

Your thirty years minutes of torture ended with a screaming customer, you biting back a few tears and your boss telling you could leave. You grabbed your bag leaving with a quick "Bye!" not saying much else as you walked out to your car. On your phone were a few messages, none really that important until you got to a text from Sukuna asking if you were gonna be on tonight.

The drive home was loud, your playlist from work screaming in your ears but it was nice. And as you finally pulled into your driveway you sat for a moment to collect yourself before going inside and getting ready for sleep. Your cat was in your business like she always was whenever you got home from work, but in the end after a few pats and holding her for a few minutes she let you go free. Comfy in your pajamas you could finally sit down to play, in your haze getting home you had neglected to text him back and when you got on found an invite sitting in your games almost immediately. "Eager much?" You teased when you joined, it was just you, you adjusted his volume so that you could hear him just fine when he spoke, but so he wouldn't blow your eardrums out whenever he inevitably raged at the game. You'd come to enjoy the little ritual you had, so it did sting a little whenever Sukuna responded with a sharp, "Please. Figured you'd need my help again. As usual."

You gave him a witty, "What was that about needing your help?" When you got the first few kills in your first match.

"Yeah yeah your okay. You're welcome." He grumbled into his headset. It was almost enough to get your mind off of what a shit day you had at work, at least now you could do something right. Round after round you seemed to just get worse. Just an off day you could've guessed but Sukuna's constant teasing and yelling was starting to get you. "DUDE. Fucking seriously what is this guy doing." His yelling made you flinch and you realized he was talking about you but hadn't realized it was you. "Jesus fuck dude needs to uninstall." He grumbled. "Sukuna." you snipped as your character got hit. "That was me." You said a little hurt edging into your tone. He gave you a shit excuse and moved on. Once the match ended you couldn't help how you were feeling.

"Sorry you're bad tonight." He said before the next match started.

"Jesus asshole. I know I'm the fuckin' worst. " Thoughts of work flooded your mind, and you just wanted to curl up in bed and forget it. Alt-f4. Without thinking you left the game, you'd get penalized for going afk mid round but you just couldn't handle him tonight. your phone buzzed almost immediately, bombarded by texts from him.

Kuna 💖👹: Dude? Where tf r u?

You: WiFi shut out. Prob wont get back on 2nite, its been shit lately.

Kuna💖👹: Great maybe you'll quit fuckin up my rr.

You put your phone on do not disturb right after that, your computer was on, the mouse hovering right over the delete button. You thought it was stupid to delete a game over some guy. You went to sleep shortly after logging off. You ignored Sukuna for days after that, he hardly reached out really unless it was to see if you'd be on tonight, you gave him a shit excuse every time, "working", "busy", "Don't feel good." the last one wasn't necessarily a lie, you had caught the stomach flu in your two months of silence, and you had been working a lot but not enough for this much silence. After awhile he'd started checking up on you a lot more, asking if you felt better before asking if you were down to game. You kept telling him no until he called you on the way home from work one day.

"Why haven't you been playing?" He growled into the phone. "I've been busy. Don't you have someone better to be playing with?" You said, "Dude I'm driving call me back."

"Promise you're getting on tonight." He said

"Unlike you I have a life outside this game which means homework. I can't play."

"Come on! I'm sorry okay! Whatever you're mad about 'm sorry." He said, his tone changing from that harsh one he normally used to something softer, maybe he had missed you.

"You get 30 minutes." You said before hanging up.

You gave him his 30 and he was almost pleasant, he was definitely containing himself but he was pleasant. You stayed in the call when the thirty was up, your body on autopilot after another long day.

"I am sorry ya know." He said, cutting you off after a moment.

"What?" You asked,

"What I said was mean. I might have missed playing with you. You're the only one who actually matches me." You chuckled.

"Well I had a good teacher." You said softly as you adjusted your headphones. "I should go do homework. I'll be on tomorrow 'kay?"

"Does that mean I'm forgiven." He said

You were quiet for moment, so quiet he almost thought you had left already.

"Buy the new skin bundle for me and I'll consider forgiving you." You said, it was a long shot and you fully expected him to say not before the exact amount of credits you needed was being gifted to you by one "Kingofcurses". "Holy shit. Can I have this new vandal skin to-"

"Okay brat don't fucking push it." He said hanging up on you before you could ask for anything else.

Your phone dinged as you started working.

Kuna💖👹: for the record I had that leftover and didn't want the bundle.

You: Yeah yeah love you too Kuna

Sleepy Moths After thoughts: GAWD I LOVE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA ‼️‼️‼️

ALL MY HOMIES LOVE THE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA SERIES

Go give @indiewritesxoxo some love her series is to die for 💋🫶🏻

uhhhhh Idk what else I just had a lot of fun writing this out

also in my head they played Valorant (cus im a loser) together but I tried to keep it obscure enough so you can all imagine what game they're planning yourselves

night!

-Sleepy Moth

Pretty Please don't repost anywhere else <3

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader fic #au #gamer au #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x you #inspo

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Text

CLINGING TO CHRISTMAS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Request: Please, "Time Together" with Tony/f!reader, because it's my dream to share a quality time with him! Spend some time in bed in the morning, cook breakfast together, watch movies cuddling on the couch, eat some snacks, visit a coffee shop in the afternoon, walk on the streets admiring the Christmas decorations and of course buy some decorations for their house 💖 you can add all the fluff you want, love! Thank you! 💖 (@little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing pure fluff

ᯓ★ Sorry if I'm not posting much, I didn't expect this period of the year to make me so busy :(

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The morning light filters into the penthouse through curtains half-drawn, painting soft, golden streaks across the room. The December chill whispers against the glass, but none of it reaches you. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and luxury, you stretch lazily, your toes brushing against the silk sheets and your back pressing into the solid warmth behind you.

Tony Stark, self-proclaimed genius billionaire and undoubtedly the clingiest man alive, has you locked in his arms. His chest rises and falls against your back, his nose buried somewhere near the curve of your neck. It’s a miracle you can breathe at all with how tightly he’s holding you, as though the world might steal you away the second he lets go.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with an unmistakable softness. He doesn’t lift his head, just tightens his hold and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Actually, scratch that. Let’s stay in bed and make it an all-day kind of morning.”

You laugh softly, your breath visible in the cool air of the room. "We both know you can’t stay still for that long."

Tony’s lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Challenge accepted. If you try to move, I’ll just make a counter-play and pull you back.” His hand, warm and strong, splays across your stomach as he shifts to kiss the side of your jaw. “How am I supposed to work when this—” he gestures vaguely, as if encompassing you, the bed, and the whole moment—“exists?”

“You’ll survive,” you tease, but you don’t make any move to escape his embrace.

It’s rare to see him so utterly unguarded, his usual whirlwind of energy and rapid-fire wit replaced by this tender, sleepy version of himself. You suppose that’s what the holidays do to him—or maybe it’s just what you do to him.

The penthouse feels different this time of year. Warmer. Cozier. The massive space, which you used to think was too cold and impersonal when you first moved in, has been transformed by the simplest of touches. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, its branches adorned with lights and ornaments you picked out together last week. Tony had grumbled through most of it, claiming he could’ve just hired someone to do the decorating, but the way his face lit up when you found the perfect star for the top told you he didn’t regret a second of it.

“You know,” he says, his voice interrupting your thoughts, “I don’t think I’ve ever really done Christmas right. Not like this.”

“Not like what?”

“This.” He props himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes meeting yours. “With you. The tree. The... not-hiring-a-company part. It’s new, and I like it.” He leans down, his nose brushing yours. “But you’ve ruined me, you know that? Stark Industries is going to fall apart because I can’t focus on anything except this face.”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his compliment. “I’m sure Pepper would argue that you’ve been distracted long before I came along.”

“True. But now it’s your fault, so congrats.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and you melt into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his already-messy hair. The taste of coffee lingers faintly on his lips, even though he hasn’t left the bed yet—an early morning habit, courtesy of the automated coffee machine he designed to deliver a steaming cup to his bedside at 7:00 AM sharp.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his grin boyish and carefree. “So, what’s the plan today? More holiday cheer? Gingerbread houses? Are we making a wreath? Stringing popcorn on a garland?”

“None of those things, because you don’t have the patience for them,” you tease, laughing when he huffs in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an incredibly patient man when it comes to—” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Actually, never mind. You’re right. But I’ll be an excellent assistant. You’re the boss of Christmas around here.”

You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I could put you to work.”

Tony smirks, his hands trailing down to your waist. “Put me to work. I dare you. I’m excellent at manual labor. By which I mean supervising while you do all the hard stuff.”

“Exactly what I thought,” you reply, poking him in the chest. “Lazy.”

He grabs your hand before you can pull it back, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Not lazy. Just very efficient at conserving energy for important tasks—like keeping you warm.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” You laugh as he pulls you back down into his arms, burying his face in your neck again. The scratch of his stubble makes you squirm, but you don’t mind.

Outside, the snow begins to fall in lazy flurries, dusting the balcony and the tops of skyscrapers. Inside, the world feels smaller, quieter, and infinitely more perfect. Wrapped in Tony’s arms, the chaos of the world seems a million miles away, and for once, neither of you is in any rush to bring it back.

“Alright, Mr. Efficient,” you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence as Tony’s thumb lazily traces patterns on your hip. “Time to get up.”

He groans dramatically, tightening his arms around you like a human bear trap. “Nope. Hard pass. The bed is warm, you’re here, and there’s no world-ending emergency—why would I leave this paradise?”

“Because you need to eat,” you counter, trying to wiggle free. “And I’m starving.”

“I have protein bars for that,” he says, burying his face further into your neck. “Energy-efficient, calorie-packed, no mess.”

“Tony,” you scold, though you’re laughing. “That’s not breakfast.”

“It can be if you eat it in the morning,” he retorts, smug as ever, and you can feel his grin against your skin.

You twist around to face him, your hands braced against his chest. “What if I promise pancakes? You love pancakes.”

Tony’s eyes crack open, a flicker of interest sparking to life. “You’re not wrong. Pancakes are a pretty compelling argument.”

“And we can make them together,” you add, your voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “It’ll be fun.”

He narrows his eyes at you like you’ve just proposed an evil plot. “Fun, or me getting roped into some sort of ‘domestic bonding experience’ that ends with me covered in flour and you laughing at me?”

“Both,” you admit shamelessly. “But there will be pancakes.”

Tony sighs like a martyr but sits up, the sheets falling from his shoulders. “Fine. But if I’m going to embarrass myself, I reserve the right to wear the apron. The manly apron.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “The one that says ‘Genius at Work’?”

“It’s the only acceptable choice,” he declares, climbing out of bed with a dramatic stretch before extending a hand to you. “Let’s go make the kitchen regret its existence.”

The kitchen, with its sleek, state-of-the-art design, looks more like a high-tech laboratory than a place where anyone actually cooks. You rummage through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients, while Tony stands by the island, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re really going to make me do this, huh?” he asks, leaning on the counter.

“It’s just pancakes, Tony. Flour, eggs, milk—basic stuff. Even you can’t mess this up.”

“First of all, rude,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Second, I don’t see you factoring in my wild card genius. You might end up with... I don’t know, a soufflé by accident.”

“Pretty sure pancakes aren’t supposed to turn into soufflés,” you reply, laughing as you hand him a mixing bowl.

Tony takes it with exaggerated caution, as though it might explode. “Alright, boss. Tell me what to do.”

You start instructing him step by step, trying to keep it as simple as possible. Crack the eggs. Add the flour. Measure the milk. It seems to go well at first—until Tony decides to get creative.

“Shouldn’t we add something extra?” he asks, glancing at the spice rack. “Cinnamon? Nutmeg? A splash of whiskey?”

“Whiskey? It’s eight in the morning,” you say, snatching the bottle out of his hand before he can pour it into the batter.

“Never too early for innovation,” he argues, grinning as he sets the whiskey down. “Alright, no booze. But we’re definitely adding chocolate chips.”

You roll your eyes but let him sprinkle a handful of chocolate chips into the batter, which he does with far too much enthusiasm. His “help” becomes increasingly questionable as you move to mix everything together, his hands finding more excuses to end up on your waist, your shoulders, or brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Tony,” you warn as his arms snake around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “If you don’t let me stir this, you’re not getting pancakes.”

“But you’re doing so well without me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “I’m supervising.”

“Your supervision is going to make me spill this everywhere,” you say, laughing as you try to keep the bowl steady.

“I’d argue that’s part of the fun,” he counters, but he relents, stepping back just enough to let you finish mixing.

When it’s finally time to cook, you heat the griddle and ladle the batter onto it, the sizzle filling the air. Tony insists on flipping the pancakes, despite your skepticism.

“Just watch,” he says confidently, spatula in hand. “I’ve seen a hundred YouTube videos on this. I’ve got the wrist action down.”

You cross your arms, watching as he slides the spatula under a pancake and attempts to flip it with a flourish. The pancake arcs through the air—almost gracefully—before landing halfway on the griddle and halfway on the counter.

Tony stares at it for a moment, then turns to you with an unapologetic grin. “See? Perfect.”

“Perfectly disastrous,” you correct, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess. “Let me handle the flipping.”

“Fine,” he says, stepping back. “But only because I don’t want to overshadow your skills.”

By the time you’ve finished, the kitchen looks like a flour bomb exploded. There’s batter smudged on the counter, chocolate chips scattered across the floor, and Tony has somehow managed to get a streak of flour across his cheek.

“You’re a menace,” you say, laughing as you reach up to wipe the flour from his face.

“I’m adorable,” he counters, catching your wrist and pulling you closer. “And you love me.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it, especially when he leans in to kiss you. His lips taste faintly of chocolate, and his stubble tickles your skin. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you forget the mess, the pancakes, and everything else except the two of you.

When you finally pull away, you’re both grinning like idiots.

“Alright,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s see if we actually made something edible.”

The pancakes are far from perfect—slightly misshapen and a little unevenly cooked—but they taste good enough, especially with a generous drizzle of syrup. You sit together at the island, plates in hand, as snow falls softly outside the windows.

Tony nudges you with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I told you we’d make a good team.”

“You mean I made the pancakes and you got in the way?” you tease.

“Semantics,” he says, taking another bite. “The important thing is, we survived. And the pancakes are edible. Mostly.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he leans over to steal a kiss, syrup and all. It’s messy and chaotic and far from perfect, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because with Tony, even the simplest moments—like making pancakes on a snowy December morning—feel like magic.

“Alright, genius,” you say, stacking the plates in the sink and turning to face Tony, who’s leaning casually against the counter, his coffee mug in one hand. “Breakfast mission accomplished. What’s next?”

He sets the mug down with exaggerated importance, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “My turn to pick. Pancakes were your idea; now I get to call the shots.”

You raise an eyebrow, already suspicious. “That’s fair. But if you’re about to suggest working in the lab or something involving an explosion—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No gadgets. No explosions. Just a simple, low-tech activity that even you’ll approve of.”

You cross your arms, trying not to smile. “I’m listening.”

Tony steps closer, his grin widening. “We’re going to cuddle on the couch and watch one of those absolutely atrocious, cliché Christmas movies that are so bad they’re good.”

“Tony Stark wants to watch a cheesy Christmas movie?” you ask, feigning disbelief. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hey, I have layers,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Besides, the movies aren’t for me. They’re for you. I’m just the selfless guy who’ll hold you through the ridiculous love triangles, improbable snowstorms, and overacting.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Blankets, snacks, and no interruptions.”

Tony salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

True to his word, Tony transforms the living room into a cozy oasis. He grabs every blanket he can find, piling them onto the couch with dramatic flair, while you raid the kitchen for snacks. When you return with a bowl of popcorn and a tin of Christmas cookies, Tony is already sprawled out on the couch, patting the spot beside him.

“Get over here,” he says, his tone playfully demanding. “I’m sacrificing my cool reputation for this. You owe me cuddles.”

“Sacrificing your cool reputation?” you tease, settling in beside him. “Pretty sure that went out the window the moment you flipped a pancake onto the counter.”

He narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t argue, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Pick your poison,” he says, handing you the remote.

You scroll through the seemingly endless options of holiday movies until you find one with a laughably predictable title. “How about Snowed In for Christmas?”

Tony groans theatrically. “Do you try to find the most ridiculous ones, or is it just a gift?”

“You said cheesy,” you remind him, pressing play before he can protest further.

The movie is every bit as absurd as you’d hoped. The plot revolves around a big-city journalist who gets stranded in a small, snow-covered town, where she falls in love with the ruggedly handsome owner of a struggling Christmas tree farm. Every trope in the book is present: the meddling townsfolk, the magical snowstorm, and, of course, the inevitable misunderstanding that threatens to ruin everything right before Christmas Eve.

Tony provides running commentary throughout, his dry humor making you laugh so hard you nearly spill the popcorn.

“Wait, wait,” he says, sitting up slightly. “Did she just quit her high-paying job in New York to stay in the town she’s been in for, what, a week? Who does that? Do people not have bills in these movies?”

“It’s called romance, Tony,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow. “Suspend your disbelief.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning back again. “But I’m just saying, if you ever ditch me for a lumberjack with a secret heart of gold, I’m suing Hallmark for emotional damages.”

“Noted,” you reply, laughing as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on your knee.

By the time the credits roll, you’re both in stitches, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “That was… something,” Tony says, shaking his head. “If my A.I. ever wrote a script like that, I’d have to reprogram it.”

“You loved it,” you counter, snuggling into his side. “Admit it.”

“I loved you laughing at it,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “But the movie? Eh, I’d give it two out of five stars. One of those stars is for the accidental comedy.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can argue, Tony grabs the remote and starts scrolling again. “Alright, my turn. Let’s find another one.”

“Another Christmas movie?” you ask, surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, smirking. “I’ve got the spirit now. I’m all in.”

The next movie is somehow even cheesier, involving a magical ornament that grants wishes and an overworked single dad who learns the true meaning of Christmas. Tony is relentless with his commentary, but somewhere around the halfway mark, his snarky remarks grow quieter. His hand strokes lazy circles on your back, and his head tilts until his cheek rests against the top of your head.

“Getting sleepy?” you ask softly.

“Not sleepy,” he mumbles, his voice low and warm. “Just... comfy. You make everything feel... easy.”

Your heart melts a little at his honesty. For all his bravado, Tony has a way of surprising you with these moments of unguarded vulnerability. You turn your head to kiss his jaw, your fingers curling around his.

“Love you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his lips brushing your forehead. “Love you more.”

The movie plays on in the background, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. The world outside the penthouse fades away as you bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment—just you, Tony, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights.

Hours later, when the snow outside has turned the city into a winter wonderland, you wake to find Tony still holding you, his breathing slow and even. The credits of the third movie you didn’t realize you started are rolling, and the room is bathed in a soft, golden glow.

You shift slightly, and Tony stirs, blinking sleepily. “Mmm. Did we win Christmas yet?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“You fell asleep during the movie,” you tease, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Only because you’re too comfortable,” he says, pulling you back down into his arms. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere. I’m holding you hostage for the rest of the day.”

You smile, resting your head on his chest and letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into contentment. If this is what being held hostage by Tony Stark feels like, you’re more than happy to surrender.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the city in quiet magic, you can’t think of a single place you’d rather be.

When you finally stir from your cozy spot on the couch, the afternoon sunlight is already streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The snowy city below looks like a scene straight out of a Christmas card, and the twinkling lights of the decorated streets are just beginning to glow as dusk approaches.

“Alright,” you say, stretching as you stand. “We’ve been lazy long enough. Let’s go out.”

Tony, still sprawled out on the couch like a contented house cat, raises an eyebrow. “Out? In this weather? Have you seen what’s happening out there? There’s snow, Y/N. Cold, wet snow.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “It’s December, Tony. Snow is kind of the whole point. Besides, you owe me.”

“For what?”

“For all the Christmas cheer you’ve been soaking up without lifting a finger,” you tease, pulling on his hand to get him to sit up. “Come on. We’ll stop by that coffee shop you like. They’ve got peppermint mochas.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously, but you can see the faint flicker of temptation. “You’re using coffee as bait.”

“And it’s working,” you counter, grinning as you toss him his coat. “Get dressed, Stark. We’re going.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re walking hand-in-hand through the snowy streets of Manhattan, the air crisp and cold but not unpleasant. True to your promise, you stop at Tony’s favorite coffee shop, where the barista greets him with a starstruck smile and immediately starts preparing his usual order.

“I have to admit,” Tony says as he takes a sip of his peppermint mocha, “this is a solid bribe.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, your own cup warming your hands as you lead him down the street.

But as you take a turn onto a quieter, festively lit avenue, Tony slows down, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. This isn’t the way home.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, your voice innocently cheerful.

He stops in his tracks, glancing up at the string lights crisscrossing above the cobblestone path ahead. The street is lined with rows of wooden stalls, each one festooned with garlands and wreaths. The scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of Christmas carols being played by a nearby quartet.

Tony looks at you, a mix of amusement and betrayal in his expression. “You tricked me.”

“I prefer to think of it as gently guiding you toward holiday spirit,” you say with a grin. “Come on. It’s just a Christmas market. Think of all the overpriced, handmade trinkets we can buy.”

“I’m not carrying bags,” he warns, even as he lets you tug him forward into the bustling market.

Despite his initial protests, Tony doesn’t seem to mind as you wander from stall to stall. The two of you weave through the crowd, pausing occasionally to admire the glittering ornaments, intricately carved wooden figurines, and colorful knitted scarves on display.

Tony keeps a protective hand on your back, steering you gently through the throng of people. Every so often, someone stops to ask for a selfie with him, and he obliges with surprising patience, though not without a few snarky comments.

“See?” you whisper after the third fan walks away, beaming from their encounter. “The Christmas market isn’t so bad, is it?”

Tony gives you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “It’s tolerable. Mostly because of you.”

You beam at him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll take it.”

As the sky darkens and the market’s lights grow brighter, the atmosphere becomes even more magical. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, landing softly on Tony’s dark hair and your scarf. You stop at a stall selling mulled wine, and Tony buys you a steaming cup, his free hand still intertwined with yours.

“This is suspiciously romantic,” he remarks, his voice teasing as you take a sip of the warm, spiced drink.

“Suspiciously?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” he says, smirking. “It’s almost like you planned it.”

“Almost?” you tease back. “Tony Stark, are you implying that I orchestrated an entire romantic outing just to make you enjoy Christmas?”

“I’m saying it’s diabolical,” he replies, leaning in to kiss the tip of your cold nose. “And I’m impressed.”

As you continue strolling, you stop in front of a stall selling Christmas decorations. The display is dazzling, filled with glass ornaments, sparkling tinsel, and miniature wreaths. You let go of Tony’s hand to pick up a delicate, hand-painted ornament shaped like a snowflake.

“This one’s pretty,” you say, holding it up to show him.

Tony eyes it, then glances back at you. “We already have a tree. We don’t need more decorations.”

You put the ornament back with a sigh, turning to face him. “Tony, the tree is literally the only festive thing in the entire penthouse. It’s sad. Like, single-guy-who-forgets-it’s-Christmas sad.”

“I was a single guy who forgot it was Christmas,” he points out.

“Exactly!” you exclaim, grabbing his arm. “But you’re not anymore. We live there together now, and I want it to feel like home—not just for me, but for you too.”

Tony hesitates, his expression softening as he watches you. Finally, he sighs in mock defeat. “Alright, you win. But I’m not carrying boxes of decorations.”

“That’s what delivery services are for,” you reply, grinning as you pull him toward the stall.

An hour later, the two of you are laden with bags containing everything from garlands to fairy lights to an assortment of quirky ornaments you couldn’t resist. Tony insists on buying a ridiculous set of baubles shaped like miniature Iron Man helmets, claiming they’re “for balance.”

As you make your way back home, you can’t help but smile at the sight of him carrying one of the bags, his usual swagger intact despite the snow and the festive chaos around him.

“You’re smiling,” he notes, glancing down at you.

“You let me drag you to a Christmas market and convinced you to buy decorations,” you say, leaning into his side. “I think I’ve earned a smile.”

Tony chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Fair enough. But just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’ve gone full holiday enthusiast. I’m still the same, cool, non-cheesy Tony Stark.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, smirking.

When you finally reach the penthouse, the two of you dump your bags on the living room floor and collapse onto the couch. Tony kicks off his shoes and stretches out, pulling you down beside him.

“You know,” he says, his voice soft as he glances at the tree in the corner, “you were right. The tree looked a little lonely.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s going to look perfect once we put everything up.”

Tony kisses the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “If it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.”

As the snow continues to fall outside, you sit together, the glow of the tree lights casting a warm, golden hue over the room. For all his grumbling and sarcasm, Tony Stark has embraced the holiday spirit in his own way—and you couldn’t love him more for it.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

Made For Him XI

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: I really wanna power through this one.... Masterlist HERE.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

You shivered but not because you were cold. You didn’t feel the temperature. You didn’t feel what they felt. You were not one of them. Yet you were scared. Terrified to the point of shaking.

Now you knew what you were and they did too. The world saw you and they rejected you. They saw what you were. A monster. Yes, that’s what you were. Peter would never tell the truth but it was what you were. He lied. About everything.

Your chest hurt but you didn’t know if it was truly your heart. It wasn’t your heart! None of it was yours. The hands did not match the arms, and those did not match your shoulders or torso. Even your face did not belong. Every part of you was wrong.

You sunk down and wrapped your arms around your head. You hunched as you bent your knees to your chest, the sea crashing loudly right outside the cave. The taste of salt stained your tongue and nose. You sobbed as the nightgown absorbs the dingy smell of the coast.

The water thrashed in the dark, the moonlight twinkling on the waves. You looked once then not again. There was a flicker of something that peaked your fear. That thought of walking out into the black ripples and never emerging. You shouldn’t be alive but you were. The idea of what would come after trapped you in this cursed existence.

He made you a monster and a coward.

You stayed in the cave. There was nowhere else to go. If you left, you would be seen and they would scream again. They would look at you with those cruel eyes and whisper in their horrified tones. They would chase you again and if they caught you, you didn’t know what they would do.

The night faded to dawn. Only then, did you peer out from your hiding hole. The sun looked warm but you could not feel its rays. Your body was slick with the humidity and heat and yet you could not recognise what made it do so. You are defunct. Inhuman. Unwanted.

The waves continued their ebb and flow. Not so loud as the night time, calm even. You sat against the craggy wall and counted the scars on your hands and arms and legs. Peter taught you the numbers and now you can use them to know all that he did to you.

Voices wafted in the wind and drove you deeper into the shadows. The rose and fell, hooting, hollering, laughing. Together. All as you sat alone and listened. As you hid from them, too afraid to look.

Yet, you could see the sea. You saw a boat with a light the night before you found the cave and it floated again in the bright day. The lights were off but it remained, trawling around the waves. You followed it with your gaze until the sky dimmed again. The light came on and fanned the water, an orb floating off in the distance.

You stood, limbs stiff, and turned to the depths of the cave. You could go deeper and see what lurked within. To leave wasn’t an option. What was within could not be as bad as what was outside.

Day appeared from behind the azure sea. You resumed your place against the wall. The birds squawked harshly and people stirred on the coast. Their voices grew closer and you kept still. If you sat there long enough, you wouldn’t have to choose. That thing Peter called time would make that decision. Like in the movies.

A hiss drew your attention to the mouth of the cave. You looked over and gave a start. The small people pointing in at you reeled and ran away. You scrambled on your knees and crawled further into the dark, not enough to lose the light. You hate the dark!

You hid behind a jagged rock and the voices returned. This time more. You didn’t move. They left only as the light did.

You peeked out and saw nothing but the silver moonlight flowing in. You stood and slowly came closer to the pale shine. You could not bear to remain in the lifeless slate behind the rock.

You touched the wall and stared out. The thought of getting closer, of seeing past the walls, tugged at you but could not coax you further. You leaned into your arm but before you could sit, you heard the shift of sand. Were they still there? Waiting? Would they bring fire like in that movie?

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice stopped you before you could even try to flee. You stand straight and rigged, gripping the ridge in the cave wall. “Can you hear me? Do you understand me? I won’t hurt you.”

You shivered and a piece of the wall came off in your hand. You let it drop heavily to your feet. You searched the open mouth of the cave. There was no one there.

“I hurt you,” you said back. “Go.”

Silence. You wondered if your mind was going bad like a movie you watched. You peer off into the night. Waiting.

“You didn’t hurt anyone before. So why would you hurt me?” The deep voice rose again.

It was real.

“If I not hurt, then why are you hide?” You uttered.

Another shift, a step. The shadow emerged from beside the cave and stood in the open space, between you and the sea. Big and tall. You had never seen someone that large.

“I won’t hide then.”

“Why here? Why bug me? I don’t want.”

He lowered his head and took a breath. “I’ve been watching you. Keeping you safe. This place will not stay safe.”

“No safe. Nowhere safe.” You said.

He was quiet again. His posture straightened, “are you hurt?”

“Hurt. Inside.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he raised his hand and light bloomed from it. He held something that glowed. “You can see me. See...” he spread his other hand, “I have nothing.”

You shielded your face and backed away, “no look. Ugly.”

He didn’t move. He seemed to lean in. “All I see is a scared woman. All alone.”

“What--” You began and stopped, frowning as you struggled to sort your words. “What are—Who? Who you?”

“My name is Steve. I... I’m a soldier. I help people. Lost people.”

A swell pounded in you and made you lurch. You flailed your arm as you could barely contain the energy. You were confused. Even more scared.

“I don’t know what is. Soldier.”

“I protect people,” he assured. “What about you? What is your name?”

You eyes rounded. You didn’t have a name. Peter called you precious but you don’t like him anymore. You looked down and hugged yourself. You might not have been pretty but you wanted a pretty name.

“Audrey,” you answered. That was the best name you knew.

“Audrey,” he lowered the light so you could see him behind it.

He had hair like gold and a sharp jaw. His eyes were so blue, like the water in the sunlight, and his expression was... kind? You thought. Or wanted to.

You looked behind you then at him. There was no way out. He was big.

“I in trouble,” you said. “I didn’t mean to do bad.”

“No one was hurt. Just scared. Like you. I just want to get you out of here. The nights are cold, aren’t they?” He asked.

“I--” you couldn’t tell him you didn’t feel it. “Yes.”

“And you must be hungry? You don’t have food.”

The suggestion twitched in your stomach. The loud groan couldn’t be suppressed as it rippled from your stomach. You looked down and back up.

“Not... not your... not your...” you could not put your thoughts out right. “I me. Not you. I stay. Be alone.”

“You can stay but not alone.”

He stepped into the cave and you pushed yourself against the wall. You watched him as he ducked through and he turned to face you. He lowered himself down to the ground and sat. He looked at his hand and turned off the light. He rested the thing it came from down beside his leg as he bent it.

You stared and tapped your fingers on your legs. You didn’t know what to do. He would not leave but you won’t either. You slowly sat and watched him. He looked back and did not flinch.

“You not scared?” You asked.

“Of you?”

“I scaring. I... look... wrong.”

“I’m not scared, but I know you are,” he leaned back into the cave wall.

You dipped your head and stared at your feet. You brought them in to hide under the nightgown. You didn’t want him to see that all of your is hungry.

You didn’t say anything else. This stranger, Steve, stayed silent and still across from you. You couldn’t guess why he would stay. It was only as the night crashed on with the water that he began to slump. After a while, his breath evened out. He slept as you were stuck awake.

You could have left him then. You didn’t. When the morning came back, he stirred and rubbed his eyes. He flinched and sat up but relented as he found you. Just as you were.

“You tired. You been waiting for me long time.”

He nodded, “I did wait. I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“Then I go with you. You lock me up and no one else be scared.”

He frowned, “I’m not going to lock you up.”

“It okay. You should. I don’t belong.”

His forehead lined and he let out another thick breath, “I won’t.”

“Then what. Kill?”

His eyes widened, “no, I don’t-- don’t do that.”

You blinked and turned to look out at the water.

“I go but not be saw. No see me.” You grew frustrated as you tried to find the right way to say it. “I hide from people. So not scared.”

“Alright. Will you wait here?”

“I been waiting. All night.”

He swallowed and stood. He gave you a long look before he turned away. He left and you turned your attention to the pocked wall. You didn’t know if he was telling the truth but you knew you couldn’t stay.

When he returned, he had a bag. He handed you clothes. A pair of rough pants and a big sweater with a hood. You thanked him and then he gave you something else. A bag of nuts and other goodies.

“Thank you,” you examined the food.

“Not much but I have more waiting,” he explained. “We should go now before anyone else is around.”

You tucked the bag of nuts in the pocket of the sweater and pulled up the hood. You slipped your hands up the sleeves to hide the scars. You faced the mouth of the cave and the big unknown. There was a whole world out there and no place for you there.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #series #made for him #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #frankenstein #mcu #marvel #avengers #spider-man

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the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

Note

Requests for Katy my beloved writter👁️👄👁️✨💖

Hobie and R making multiple batches of cookies for friendsgiving/friendsmas, when they finally arrive at Ned's house they just see absolute chaos in the kitchen. The turkey is burnt, the mash potatoes are somehow liquid and the bread is hard as a rock.

-🪦

Hihihi I had so much fun writing their shenanigans! Thank you for requesting, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is mentioned wearing makeup, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, Fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Hobie!” You yell for him after seeing smoke slither its way inside from the patio. Your arms are full of the hot baking tray while your foot kicks the oven door closed for what seemed like the third time today. “Hobie!”

You two have been working on dinner for the past three hours now. Ned tasked you two in making dessert and for grilling anything you want; while he volunteered to have the holiday party at his place, and for the rest of the party to bring their own preferred potluck. You thought it would be easy considering that it'll just be you two and the band celebrating, but with the last minute addition of Hobie's friends from the society, you had to adjust the serving by a lot.

His muffled voice calls out from outside the house, then his unmistakable footfalls thump against the wooden floors of the patio, sound reverberating around the cozy place. The sliding door opens with a squeak, a second later you see his handsome face peek out from the crack while smoke billows inside.

“You called?” He smiles at the sight of you in your pink frilly apron complete with a matching pair of oven mittens. He got that for you as a joke a few years ago, but he always loves it whenever you don it on.

You're still in your striped pajamas under the apron, complete with Hobie's old shirt. With him mirroring your look but with a loose tank top on his body. Sweat dribbles down his brows, tongs in hand. There's only a couple hours left before the party starts, that's why your slight panic is evident in your frantic look.

“What're you smiling about? It looks like you're setting our backyard on fire!” Gesturing towards the smoke wildly, his grin spreads across his smug face.

“As much as I love settin’ fire to shit, ‘m not burnin’ our place down, lovie.” The thick smoke entering inside and spreading around the living room says otherwise. You reply with a ‘really?’ look on your already stressed face. “It's fine.” He shrugs, sliding the door closed before you could argue with him.

“Brown!” You call again, he turns back around and answers with his face scrunched against the glass while smoke fills outside, almost engulfing him. “You better not burn all the meat!”

“It'll be brown alright, love! The smoke brings out all the flavour!”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile. You're absolutely stressed and frantic right now, especially when the cookies are still cooling on the tray and you still have to decorate it. The red velvet cake you purposely baked earlier now sits on the counter with its half decorated self waiting for you to continue. Despite the stress of it all, you love doing this with Hobie. You love seeing him relax, and just be at home once in a while, and you think that he's having the time of his life too based on the wink he gave you before turning back towards the grill. At least he's warm outside.

Stretching your aching neck, you once again hear the sound of the door squeaking open. Before you could look at Hobie, he quickly closes the distance, wide strides allowing him to get to you in record time. His hands reach out to you, before you know it, he's cupping your cheeks and pressing a loving kiss right on your lips. You stand there, surprised by the kiss but the familiarity immediately takes you over, making you hold him within half a second. Your arms reach up to the back of his neck, flour covered hands pushing him impossibly closer against you. He smells like smoke and cinders, you smile at the thought, an act he notices, eyes cracking open briefly to see your smile before deepening the kiss as he mirrors your smile.

Breathless, he finally pulls away, thumb brushing along the sheen of your lips. The lovestruck haze in his eyes are unmistakable, lips still puckered as if he wants to taste the icing on your lips again.

“What was that for?” You ask in between breaths, palms kneading along his shoulder blades. All the while you stare at him with hearts in your eyes.

His arm slides down towards your hips, embracing you closer. “I forgot to snog you today.” Shrugging, his lopsided smile has your heart taking a leap.

“Didn't you kiss me this morning?” You raise a questioning brow, teasing him.

“Ah shit, you're right.” Hobie chuckles, index wiping at the flour sticking on your cheek. He thinks for a second before leaning towards your lips again. “Want another one?”

“Ohh, a bonus one?” Your hands wrap around his tank top, pulling him closer as his breath fans your waiting lips. But the smell of something burning has him groaning in disappointment, head falling atop your shoulder. “You gonna get that, chef?”

He pecks your cheek before leaving your side, immediately making his way back outside the house. “Don't put icing on it yet! I want to help!” Yelling backwards, he pretends to take a deep breath and pinches his nose before opening the door and exiting the smoke filled patio. “Ah fuck!”

You laugh at his muffled coughing while he desperately fans away the smoke.

—

You and Hobie finally arrive at Ned's, the outside is filled with strings of twinkling light, inflatable reindeers and Santas dot along the yard, giving a very festive mood. Checking the time, you're five minutes earlier than you thought you would be even with the traffic and the fact that Hobie's insatiable mood had you redoing your hair and face twice. Craning your neck towards the driver's seat of his van, you see a very giddy Hobie smiling back at you.

“See, right on time.” He clicks his seatbelt, releasing it so he could lean over the center console to smooch your already kiss bitten lips. “D’you think five minutes would be enough?”

Laughing, you push him back on his seat gently with your palms right on his best dress shirt that you've customized for him with different buttons and random colourful stripes splashed on it after he complained that it looked too much of an office shirt. Not to toot your own horn, it definitely looks better than the washed corporate vibe it was before. It fits him better as he looks handsome under the warm light of his van.

“Five minutes for you isn't enough, Hobs.” He feigns a pout that you chastely kiss away. Moving back, you peck again, thinking, you kiss him again before finally pulling away. He looks victorious. “That should satisfy you before we get home.”

Tilting his head, hand reaching towards you, his thumb fixes your smudged lip gloss. Making sure he traces your lips while meeting with your eyes. “Later though, right?” There's something in the air, and it's not just the sweet scent of cookies filling the van.

You roll your eyes with a wobbly grin. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, you feel like you're burning up. “Yes, later.” Patting his cheek, you wipe your gloss from his lips to hide the evidence from your friends lest they tease him throughout the night.

Hobie looks like he won the lottery. “I'll tell Ned to hurry up dinner service.”

“No, you won't!”

Chuckling, you two exit the car with his and your arms full of food and presents. Your shoes click against the pavement, fixing your hold on the cookies whilst the aromatic smell of grilled meat (that was a second away from being charred) has your stomach rumbling. Hobie admits that the cookies you made were absolutely pants after he probably ate seven of them in one sitting. And with you sneaking a nibble of the barbequed meat, you almost placed it on a plate to devour it all. You two did a fantastic job with the food. The only thing missing now is actually celebrating with friends. You can't wait to taste what they've cooked up.

“Do you think Yuri will like her gift? She's hard to shop for.” You ask as you two walk towards the front door.

“She'll love it, trust me.” Cold air billows out from his lips, you wonder if his lip piercing is cold and whether you have enough time to warm it up before Ned could open the door. “What do you think about Miles’ present?”

His voice takes you out from your ogling. “The Hobie Brown worried about what someone thinks about him?” You teasingly poke his stomach.

“Come off it.” He smiles despite his words. Pressing the doorbell, it chimes softly. You two wait for a second before Hobie groans impatiently and presses the doorbell numerous times until a very worried Gwen opens the door.

“Hi—!”

“Thank goodness you're here!” She grabs the bags from your arms, only to drag you quickly inside. “The kitchen's fucked! This place is cursed!”

“How fucked?” Hobie shuts the door with his foot, following behind a confused you. Placing the bags down on a nearby table, he sniffs the air, smelling something…funky. “What's that smell?” As the three of you enter the mess that is the kitchen, a flying garlic knot heads towards Hobie that he effortlessly dodges and catches in one swift move.

“What the fuck happened here?” You stand there in shock at the state of the place.

The stove is covered in liquid potatoes that ooze from the pot. The walls look like it's crying out cranberry sauce, (you hope it's cranberry) and poor James looks like he's the living embodiment of a marshmallow puff. To your surprise, the turkey on the table looks perfectly cooked. Well, on the outside it is.

They all pause from trying to clean up the chaos. Pavitr looks like he's about to burst into tears, Yuri's busy with trying to wipe down James. While Miles and Ned try to save whatever they can from whatever's left in the oven. It's a mess to say the least.

Hobie squeezes the bread in his hand, finding it as hard as a rock. He might be Spider-Man but even with his strength, he had to put some force on it to even crack. The bread shatters into a million breadcrumbs in his hand, followed by his ear bursting laugh rousing the whole neighborhood.

“Help.” Pavitr says softly.

“Uh, we've got cookies and grilled meat?” Their sighs of relief echoes throughout the house.

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xxkissesforchanniexx · 10 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 6k Warnings: Blood, Hyunjin is missing, JYPEeeEe KING OF DA SEEEEAAAAA, challenges for king, memories of sexual scenes >.>, Hyunjin AND the kid have hallucinations, kidnapping..., RANDOM MERMAID CRAP I THOUGHT WAS COOL (heart of the sea, coral palace, etc), reunions, chan becomes king of the sea... i think that's it... sweet sex (not entirely soft...), possessive Hyunjin, JYP dies.... forgive me its for plot.

A/N: Based on this TikTok link to pt 1 AHHHHH THE LONG AWAITED PART 2 i hope you like it <3 changing the formatting of my work and page again soon >.>

"I'm trusting you to take care of them, at least until I get back..."

Chan stared at his friend, "And if you don't?"

Hyunjin sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder at Chan, "Let her... Make her... Forget me."

"Mommy what's 2 x 2?"

"Why are you worried about multiplication right now? Sugar you can't even add your hundreds place yet." You sighed.

"Uncle Ji said it's important to start early." You child pouted.

"Uncle Ji doesn't know much about math either." You chuckled.

"I second that." Chan laughed.

"Uncle Chan." She looked at the dark haired man, "What's 2 x 2?"

You gave Chan a look.

"I'll teach you another time we should work on addition first, y'know?" The man smiled.

You smiled and looked back at your work, you had been studying a certain type of guppy for just about a month now. A type of guppy that always lingered around Hyunjin's home...

You clenched for fists as you thought about that man, his beautiful sea green eyes, his gorgeous smile, the way he held you.

The doorbell made you look up. "Chan, can you get that?"

"I got it." Chan opened the door to Changbin.

"UNCLE BINNIE!" Your child ran to the short man's arms.

He them up and spun them. "Look at my favorite kid." He smiled, "You ready to go?"

Your child grabbed her bag and dragged it to the door, waving goodbye, "I'll see you in two days Mommy. Bye bye!"

You laughed lightly and waved. "Take came of her Changbin."

"I will." He called back.

You were positive she would be fine when you heard Minho's "I'll watch them both."

You kept to your work until Chan tapped your shoulder, "You're going to die of work. Go out and do something."

"Who are you my dad?" You laughed lightly. "Fine."

You picked up your computer but Chan took it from you. "Go relax... Go for a drive, go out to eat, get your nails done. SOMETHING!"

"FINE!" You huffed, muttering a you put on your shoes and grabbed your car keys.

You drove around town for a bit, looking out at the sea, you parked by the beach and walked to the shore, taking off your shoes and sitting there on the sand.

You watched as the water lapped around your bare feet, remembering sitting here with Hyunjin, who seemed shocked that crabs could be so mean when he didn't appear like a merman. You smiled and gripped the sand between your fingers before reaching up and playing with your sun charm.

You lie back on the sand as you remembered the day you and Hyunjin sat on the beach at night, the moon was full and he was talking about his parents.

"And apparently, my dad was the most romantic guy ever. But I can't be so sure about that now."

You giggled. "Do you think I'll meet your parents?"

He looked at you. "Maybe..."

"Maybe?" You tilted your head at him.

"I'd have to make you my mate first." He smirked.

"You'd bite me?" You laughed. "Like a werewolf?"

He made a face and grabbed your face. "I'd present you to the Mother of the Sea and beg for her blessing. I'd give you all my air..." he looked into your eyes and you felt your face get hot. "And then..." He leaned in close so his lips brushed against your jaw. "I'd give you my seed."

You shoved his face and hid yours in embarrassment as he cackled.

"Is it so bad to you???!" He laughed.

"No just..." You looked at him. "You've already done 1 of those things."

He smirked. "Then let me do it again.." he took your hand into his and kissed your wrist then your arm before moving to your neck.

You blushed deeply as your remember how he'd practically dragged you under the water and done... jiendsjiok Y/n. Focus..."Hyune... Where are you?"

Uncle Changbin and Uncle Minho had taken me around all day, we went to the mall, to the park, then we went to go eat, when we finally got to Minho's place and I went to bed I smiled slightly to myself. Mommy never let me go out often.

It was late, I was staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what Daddy's doing right now... the thought of my father made me smile, I still remembered his pretty face. Mommy used to smile more then. It's been two years if I've done my math right.

I hugged my narwal plushie that he bought me the last time we went to the aquarium together. I closed my eyes and whispered softly, "Mother of Sea... bring my daddy back." And I fell asleep.

Mommy says I got my hyper awareness from Daddy. The soft sound of steps woke me up and I froze. The steps weren't near the door or in the hall. They were in the room.

My eyes focused into the darkness and I glanced around without rolling over. I tried to look like I was sleeping as the steps grew closer, was it a monster? was it the boogey man my friends at school talked about...

"Jazz hands and flash." Daddy's voice came to my mind, I was 4 then and he told me to be careful when I flared my hands out because my claws would appear...

The steps grew closer and I swallowed, should I scream for Uncle Changbin...

I should scream..

The steps were beside my bed now.

The shadow stretched over my bed, moonlight from the window pouring in.

I saw the hand reaching for me.

One...

"Deep breaths.." I sucked in a slow, steady breath.

Two...

"Jazz hands..."

Three...

"FLASH!"

I flared my hands out and my claws connected with a hard substance that made me cry out in pain and pull my hands back. The person grabbed me suddenly and I shrieked.

The door burst open and Uncle Changbin was lunging claws out. Another person flew and slammed him hard into the wall just as Uncle Minho ran for me.

My gaze locked on the corner of the room. There was a woman who looked like my mommy dressed differently, like the olden days.. I was pulled out of my window as my uncles shouted.

Something pricked my arm and then the world went dark.

It was so hot... so hot he couldn't move. The heat crushing him place almost.. He looked up as he heard the door to the chamber open.

"Time to eat." the maid said as she set the food in front of Hyunjin.

He stared at it for a long time and as he reached for it he heard a voice.

It's the food...

And he pulled back, smacking the food away with his tail and shouting. "LET ME GO!"

The maid looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head and walked away.

I struggled for a moment before I heard the voice.. her voice... "Hyunjin... it's almost time."

You stood there in shock. Chan was very quiet. Changbin winced as Jeongin dabbed at the wounds on his neck.

"It was the royal guard." Minho said softly.

You looked at the floor, squeezing your necklace...

"Why would they take her.." Chan finally spoke.

Yongbok twirled his thumbs. "How did they even know she existed?!"

Seungmin sighed. "If it's the royal guard it had to have been a roayl decree."

"HOW WOULD KING JINYOUNG HAVE EVEN KNOWN ABOUT HER THOUGH?!" Jisung shouted. "THEY COULD KILL HER!"

The boys went quiet and Chan said softly. "He's been king for a long time."

The others looked at him.

"Chan what are you thinking.." Seungmin whispered.

Chan sat up straight. "I guess I owe you all an explanation."

If there was ever a merboy King Jinyoung put effort into. That boy would be Chan. That boy who was made to be a model king, his parents were impossibly proud of him for being so close to the king. It was when he was thirteen the king really took him in. Fight like this. Kill humans like that. Humans are evil because of this.

It was when Chan met his friends things became a little different, he was freer, the group following him around as it grew, and Hyunjin... Hyunjin who told Chan first where he got his necklace... who told Chan first he felt drawn to you.. who told Chan first that the child was his.. who trusted his love and daughter to Chan.

And Chan gradually slipped away from the king of the sea. But everyone knew.. from the Arctic to the southern most sea, and all the way back again they all knew the next king of the sea was going to be Chan.

And Chan neglected his duty.

"If we're going to get her," Jisung stared at you. "You need to blend into the sea."

You pursed your lips. "Huh-"

Seungmin hummed and circled you. "An octopus or a sea horse..."

"I think she'd make a good shark woman personally." Minho said.

"I agree." Jeongin seconded.

You made a face. "Why can't I be a pretty mermaid like you guys?"

"Because," Yongbok huffed, "Not all of us look the same." He cleared his throat and glanced at Changbin, "First girlfriend had tentacles."

Changbin shouted. "SHE WAS REALLY PRETTY THOUGH!"

They all shrugged.

"Don't listen to them." Chan sighed. "I have something ready already."

They all looked at Chan.

"Watch him make her some ugly black thing-"

"Betta cross." Chan said, looking you over, "Y/N would look good as a Betta fish with a mix of mandarin... Don't you all agree?"

The boys tilted their heads at you.

"Yes." Minho said.

"Definitely." Changbin smiled.

"She'd look gorgegous." Jisung jumped.

"Stunning." Felix nodded.

Seungmin shrugged.

"I think she'd look really pretty." Jeongin agreed.

"What on earth-" You started but the men practically dragged you to your car and put you in the drivers seat, before crowding in your van.

"Drive." Chan said. "We're going to the beach."

for yall who are wondering this is a betta fish (siamese fighting fish).

Chan stared at the shore. "This brings back memories..." He exhaled slowly.

"It's now or never." Jeongin huffed, taking off his expensive human trinkets and leaving them in your car.

You stared at the sea. "If they hurt my baby. I'll dump plastic."

The boys all blinked at you in shock.

"Gimme the pill." You huffed.

Chan cleared his throat and put the pill in your hand.

The boys jumped into the water one by one and you watched as they swam away, clothes washing up to the shore.

You looked at Chan who tilted his head to the water, "After you."

You sucked in a breath and jumped into the water, shoving the pill into your mouth and gasping, watching the bubbles float to the surface before you tried to move you legs. You looked down and shrieked.

Jisung and Seungmin snickered at your reaction.

Yongbok swam around happily. "YOU'RE SO PRETTY!"

You looked at them. Chan dove into the water and you turned away as his legs became one and when you looked back, there was a dark blue tail.

He smiled. "The look suits you..."

You looked down at the big tail, sparkling scales and pretty frills waving and wafting in the current. Hyunjin would've thought it was so gorgeous..

You exhaled. "Lets go."

You followed the boys deep into the water, the coral grew larger, then you saw another merman swim by. Your eyes widened at the sight of a more merpeople, the boys weren't lying, they were all built differently. Some with octopus arms and others with shark teeth.

You pursed your lips as a merman with a striped tail in gold, brown, and black like a lionfish..

Jeongin nudged you. "He's venomous.."

You blinked a few times and nodded. "Noted."

You felt like the merpeople you passed were staring at you and suddenly you forgot how to work your tail. Could they tell you were human..?

Jisung turned and grabbed you, dragging you after the rest of the group. "You're pretty, like.. top tier mermaid princess kind of pretty.." He smiled. "It's natural for them to stare. They'd think the mother of the sea blessed you with her beauty."

You tried to assure yourself that they couldn't tell you were human.

Chan swam towards a huge rock structure and smiled at you. "The person in here is trustworthy." He motioned for you to enter.

You saw a very pretty mermaid with big black eyes her tail was gold and yellow with black spots and there was spines all over it.

"Chan... who is this pretty girl and why is this the first time I'm meeting her?" She circled you a few times and her tail swished happily. "Is she a model for me?"

"Rin-" Chan started but the mermaid lifted your arms and started using a length of something to measure you.

"Rin she's-" Seungmin tried.

"I have just the thing for you darling!" She started running off to get something but Chan grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

"She's human!" He whispered shouted.

Rin's eyes widened. "This is Hyunjin's.."

The boys nodded.

She smiled at you, much calmer than before. "I'm Rin, I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Rin." Yongbok said, "Did the royal guard bring a little human girl through?"

"They did actually." She sighed. "While you were gone King Jinyoung said he'd found the Heart of the Sea."

Chan's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's encased in something, they say the girl is the key to opening it." She looked at you. "That girl is your daughter isn't she?"

You nodded and took a few breaths trying to collect yourself.

Changbin took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can you keep her h-"

"No!" You snapped, pulling away from Changbin. "I'm not staying when some 500 year old man kidnapped my daughter! No! I'm going with you!"

Chan pursed his lips. "Please... Y/N-"

"I'm going and you can't stop me." You touched your face as something behind your ears flared.

Minho hummed. "She's still pretty while she's angry."

"Fine." Chan sighed. "Hands up."

You put your hands up and he flared his hands before baring his nails at you. You jumped back on instinct as his claws appeared.

"Do it." He glared at you. "If you can't, you can't come with us."

You shrank under his condescending gaze.

"Well?" Chan raised a brow at you.

Rin swam between you two. "You're scaring her Chan."

"Stay." He told you.

"Chan that isn't fair to her-" Rin started.

"Yea-" Jeongin started.

The appendages behind Chan's ears flared and he shouted. "She stays. That's final."

The boys and Rin all went quiet.

"Let's go." Chan huffed, swimming out.

The boys looked at you and swam after him, Yongbok smiled at you. "We'll get her back.."

Hyunjin tugged at the chains. He pulled and pulled until his wrists went raw.

"Food time." the maid entered and the heat from the bubbling hydrothermal vents calmed somewhat.

Hyunjin looked at her. "What's happening up there... It's loud."

"The king has found the key to the Heart of the Sea. The sacrifice is in two days time." She said as she set the food down. "I suggest you stop struggling, by the time you get out that half human brat will be dead."

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "If you scum touch her-" Hyunjin tuggd at his chains with all his might and he felt them shift in the sand.

"What will you do?" a voice said behind the maid.

She quickly bowed and excused herself.

Jinyoung stared down at Hyunjin. "I'm going to restore the Merman empire. And when I do, merpeople like you will stop existing."

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed. "You're a monster."

"A monster who cares for his people. And if I have to kill a few humans to reach my goal... So be it."

Hyunjin tore from his chains and vaulted for Jinyoung.

The older merman was stronger than he looked, throwing Hyunjin hard against the rock of the dungeon.

Hyunjin's vision blurred as he slumped to the floor. He saw a luminescent something before he felt the sting and his vision went dark.

Jinyoung stared at the almost diamond casing of the heart of the sea. He looked at the child sleeping in the bubble, it resembled Hyunjin so much.

He held the dagger Chan and his friends had recovered. This was for his people..

"Your highness." a servant entered and bowed, "Chan is here."

"Send him in." Jinyoung covered the child with the seaweed curtains and turned as Chan entered the room.

"My king." Chan bowed.

"Chan, please."

Chan looked up and locked eyes with him. "It's been almost two years since Hyunjin disappeared..."

"A tragedy really." Jinyoung swam to the wall of his study and traced the shelf.

"He had a lover." Chan said softly. "A lover I promised to protect.. and he had a child a child I'd give my life for."

Jinyoung turned eyes wide, the appendages behind his ears flaring. "That half human bastard child!"

"She is not a bastard child!" Chan's eyes narrowed. "In 2 days the moon will be full and at its strongest, the tides low, the fish will move for the coast. The Coral Palace will be accessible. If we have the Heart of the Sea."

"So what?" Jinyoung glared at Chan... This boy can't read through me.

"The Mother of the Sea blesses one. One person to harness the Heart of the Sea." Chan looked at the seaweed curtain, "And Hyunjin's daughter is missing."

"What' the point of all this? You want me to search for a mista-"

"No." Chan moved so fast, Jinyoung barely saw him before Chan's claws were at his throat. "I challenge you."

"Chan!" Minho and Yongbok came around the corner just in time to see it. Their eyes went wide.

"Park Jinyoung. I, Bang Christopher Chan, challenge you to be King of the Sea." Chan said coldly.

Jinyoung stared at him for a long moment. "I accept.."

You sat with Rin talking about the quality of her clothes.

"But really..." she sighed looking at you. "You shouldn't mind it."

"Don't mind what?" You raised a brow.

"How Chan talks to you..."

You looked at her. "Of course I shou-"

"Chan is going to be the next king one day. Simply by being in contact with you, he's risking his future." She said quietly. "By hiding the secret about your daughter for so long... He's risking his life."

Your eyes widened slightly. "So.."

"He's mean sometimes but it's because he cares.." she smiled, "So don't let that get to you."

You nodded, looking at your hands. "I'm just worried about C/n.. and Hyunjin.."

Rin smiled and took your hand in hers. "It'll be okay..."

She spoke too soon.

"RIN!" Minho entered the coral building with such speed he was dragging bubbled behind him, eyes wide and frantic with fear. "Chan challenged the king!"

He opened his eyes again... he felt so tired.. His sea green eyes looked over the hydrothermal vents and he tugged at his chains. He'd broken free before.. why couldn't he now?

He felt something.. something.

Turn. Hyunjin turn your damn head. He turned his head with so much effort and he saw it. The jellyfish that had stung him. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, how the hell did he let this happen.

"SHIT!" He shouted as he realized what would happen. He pulled at his chains. Y/N, C/N, Chan, Changbin, Yongbok, Jeongin EVERYONE!

Hyunjin pulled at the chains one last time before giving up.

He sank to the floor and grit his teeth as he remembered the last time he'd seen you.

"You'll come back right?" You looked up at him with the saddest look in your eyes.

"Of course I'll come back.. when haven't I?"

And how you'd kissed him as if it was the last time you ever would.

Hyunjin screamed and pulled at the chains again, he looked up at a little ball of light in the distance and somehow he saw you... No.. not you.. but you.. dressed in something so much like the old days hundreds of years ago.

"The Heart of the Sea is here... it's been waiting on you."

By the time you got to the arena area Chan was in the sand, the man he was fighting, who you assumed was Jinyoung, was beating the crap out of him. The other people watched with sad expressions as Chan got punched again..

You swam to the closest place you could to see. "CHAN!"

Minho tried to move over the coral railing as King Jinyoung's claws emerged, but Changbin held him back.

"He's going to kill him!" You shouted.

Jisung grabbed you around your waist and held you back. "That's how the challenge works... the one who lives is king..."

You stared with wide scared eyes as blood swirled into the water. "Chan.."

You tried to pull away from Jisung as Jinyoung released Chan and stood straight. Chan lie there in the sand, blood curling up into the water. Was he dead... Chan... dead?

Something in you snapped and you tore from Jisung's arms with alarming force.

This man. This King of the Sea. He'd kidnapped your daughter. He'd destroyed your peace. He'd forced Hyunjin to go back to the ocean. He'd hurt Chan.

You tore through the water, seeing red, you felt numb. There was nothing but this Jinyoung. This monster.

You raised your hands on instinct and felt your nails shifting on your skin before you really saw red. Your barbed claws buried themselves in Jinyoung's chest just as the royal guards swam for you, just as Chan sprung back up, just as the crowd screamed and a messenger shouted over the arena... "THE SEA DEVIL IS FREE!"

Hyunjin woke up in a bed. It wasn't soft by any means but he wasn't complaining, a familiar warmth was pressed to his chest and he smiled as he held her tighter pressing his nose against he head, the familiar scent filled his nostrils.

He opened his an eye and smiled at you. He barely noticed the sheets looked different.. how strange they felt, he heard something and tensed.

"What is it?" You looked up at him.

"Nothing.." He lied. "Go back to sleep." He got up from the bed, and stepped on to wood flooring. His brows furrowed as he realized... this floor wasn't the one in your house.

He went to the door and felt something looming over it as he opened the door and walked into the hall, the chairs in different rooms looked old... and he saw it... a baby crib... His eyes widened, that wasn't..

The sound of the front door opening made him turn with such speed he could have cracked his neck.

"The oceanic beast is here!" Someone shouted.

Hyunjin turned to run back to your bedroom but someone grabbed him and he shouted, "Y/N!"

He heard you scream as you were dragged from your bedroom.

Hyunjin saw red and before he could stop himself he spun from the people holding him and slashed their throats, Lunging for the men holding you. Heavy metal chains fell around him and he was pulled back baring his claws.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

And Hyunjin stopped struggling.

He let the people drag him away...

From where he was chained in the village square he'd seen you multiple times, but you were always with someone, they always kept you away... and one night he heard something and looked up.

The moon was full and he saw his people storming the village..

You came running to him, and as you tried to unshackle his chains he stared with wide eyes as a long dagger, tore through you. "Y/N!"

Your grip on his chains slackened and Hyunjin tore away from where he was held about to lunge for the person but he froze. It was a boy... a merboy, no older than 16.

"Human devils and Sea devils are the banes of this world. You should die!" The boy shouted.

And as he opened his mouth to shout a human sword ran him through.

"You can't let the past repeat itself..."

He looked up at you. Or what looked like you.

"You have to go now..."

"But-"

"Hyunjin..." You leaned to him and kissed him gently. "Give me your air."

Hyunjin screamed and tore his chains from the ground, swimming to the stalactite edge of his enclosure and pounding on it before he slammed into it and the rock crumpled. He swam up frantically towards light, and surfaced in the remnants of the Coral Palace.

He stared around for a long time. Then his ear appendages twitched and he turned in the direction of the New Palace.

Jinyoung held his chest and stumbled back. His eyes widening at the sight of you. "HUMAN!"

The crowd gasped and Chan stood in front of you, defensively, "She's trustworthy-"

"NO HUMAN IS TRUSTWORTHY! ARREST HER!"

"Your highness, the moon-" A frantic servant tried to say but Jinyoung pushed him aside and swam for the palace.

Guards circled you and Chan as the others tried to get to you and the crowd began to panic.

"UP!" Chan grabbed you and slammed his tail hard, sending you shooting upwards before he released you and began to swim as fast as he could.

You followed before you looked back. "I can't.."

Chan looked at you. "Y/n! We need to go!"

"Chan..." You breathed before turning back to the palace. "She's all I have."

Before he could stop you, you swam around the guards and followed Jinyoung into the palace. You followed the merman as he swerved through the palace and then you finally caught up to him as he stopped in front of a seaweed curtain.

"JINYOUNG!"

He pulled out a bubbled and turned to you. Inside the bubble was.. your daughter..

The artifact Hyunjin had stolen from the museum in his other hand. "With this dagger... Mother of the Sea... Bless the Heart! And devour Man."

You screamed as he raised the dagger. "NO!" You swam for him but something was faster, grabbing Jinyoung and slashing his face. He dropped the bubble and you dove for it. Looking up, you stared in shock at the familiar figure. "Hyunjin.."

"You want the heart..." he said lowly, raking his claw over his palm, blood coiled from the wound into the water as Hyunjin grabbed a crystal locked object.

You stared at it. Jin-young sprang up to attack Hyunjin but something slowed him...

Hyunjin gripped the crystal and shouted. "COME GET IT!"

And it shattered.

Jin-young stared at him. "This can't be... You're not- You can't- You... You love that HUMAN! You're not one of us! TRAITOR! LIAR! DEVIL!"

Hyunjin tossed the crystal to the ground before staring a beautiful blue pearl.

"This... is for 500 years ago." Hyunjin grabbed the dagger from the floor and stabbed the pearl.

Jin-young screamed and lunged for him but Chan swam past you and grabbed the shrieking king. "Your dynasty is over."

Hyunjin's brows furrowed before he swam and covered your eyes. And yet you couldn't mistake the sound of Jin-young's neck breaking.

It took several hours to get everything handled with your daughter as she couldn't believe Hyunjin was back. Chan was going to recover and the planning of a formal coronation was under way. It was early the next morning, when you finally got home, settling your daughter into bed. But now you had questions.

"Where were you.." you whispered as you returned your home.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Jinyoung ordered me to return and kept me when I tried to leave. He... he imprisoned me in the Coral Palace and I saw... you..."

You looked into his eyes. "You were gone. I thought you-"

Hyunjin remembered what he begged Chan to do and bit his plump lip.

"I thought you left us." You whispered.

Hyunjin fell from the couch on his knees in front of you. "No... Jagiya no..." he breathed. "I would never."

You felt the tears welling in your eyes as he took your hands in his. "I'm sorry... you've been struggling and I just-"

"No. Don't apologize. I.. I should've figured out something-"

"You were in a dungeon, I was just here and-" the tears started streaming down your face before you could stop them. "C/n would ask where you were and I wouldn't know what to say.."

Hyunjin took your face in his hands and shushed you, wiping your tears. "You did amazing..." He whispered. "You are amazing.."

You looked into his pretty green eyes as you tried to control your tears. "I missed you.."

He smiled gently and leaned to press his forehead against yours. "I'm here... I'm finally back... And I'm never going to go again.."

You kissed him softly. He held you against him, pushing his tongue past your lips and sighing as he tasted you for the first time in so long. "Let me..." He breathed.

"What..." You exhaled.

"Make you mine. I want you to meet my parents." He muttered. "But first-"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you pounced on him.

Your lips were molded to his in a desperate heated kiss as you ran your fingers through his long hair. He muttered against your lips "I love you so much..." as he lifted you, hands firmly on your butt with your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you to your bedroom, lip never leaving yours as he set you down on the bed, leaning into you, pulling your shirt over your head as you worked at his pants. He smiled against your lips after he pulled the shirt off you, "Shit, I missed this.."

You gasped as his lips moved to your throat and he bit gently at the skin before kissing and licking at your chest as you mewled softly.

He lifted you and unclipped your bra before taking your of your nipples into his mouth. He groaned as you pulled off his pants just enough to palm at his cock through his boxers. He moved lower kissing at your stomach before kneeling as he pulled your pants and panties off, looking up at you past your breasts. His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with desire.

His green eyes trailed to your pussy before he leaned in and kissed your clit gently before giving it gentle licks.

You whined and grabbed at his hair.

"Shh.." He hummed, "I've got you pretty thing." He took one of your hands in his and your fingers intertwined as he began licking and sucking at your clit.

You tugged at his hair and gasped, "Hyunjin-"

He groaned into your womanhood, the vibrations sending sparks down your spine before he pushed a long finger into you. You moaned at the stretch and Hyunjin hummed.

"You missed me filling your pretty pussy?" he whispered as he moved his finger in and out green eyes admiring the way your slick coated the digit, before he pushed in another.

You gasped as he curled his fingers to rub your g-spot. He fingered you faster, grinding his palm against your clit, you moaned louder as you felt the familiar knot tightening in you gut. Hyunjin moved up and kissed you moaning as you pulled his hair.

Hyunjin released your hand and took his hand to your clit, rubbing in figure 8 motions as you moaned.

"Cum for me, baby.." He whispered.

And the knot inside you snapped, you jerked as your vision went white and Hyunjin continued fingering you stretching your orgasm thin.

He pulled away and drew his fingers out slowly, admiring your slick as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at your taste. He pulled his shirt and pants off, dragging the boxers as well before grabbing your legs and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He looked down in you eyes as he took his shaft into his hand, rubbing the tip against you slit and slapping it against your clit. You whimpered and he smiled as he pushed into you before leaning over you.

You both moaned as he sank into your tight heat.

"I love you so much..." he breathed, kissing you as he pulled out. He pushed in slowly and the kiss swallowed your moans as he repeated the motion, pushing into you over and over. He pulled away to look into your eyes before he stood to his full height and grabbed your hips.

You gasped as he began fucking into you roughly, desperately, even, as if you might disappear, as if he were dreaming. You moaned as his cock reached deep inside you, brushing your cervix.

"I missed you so much... I thought you'd forgotten me... moved on.. given yourself to someone else." He groaned and and wrapped your legs around his waist, moving you up on the bed and slowing his thrusts. "This is mine.." He kissed your hand,"mine." he kissed your stomach, "mine..." he the valley between your breasts, "mine.." he kissed your lips, "mine. You are mine.." He slammed into you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs and the bed creaked.

"Hyunjn-" You reached to hold onto him and he took your hand again, kissing your palm as he started pounding into you again, his eyes glazed over and distant but at the same time so focused on you and only you.

You the human he learned to trust. You the girl he used to think about all the time. You the girl who seemed to be everywhere he was. You the only woman he would ever love. You his human.. the mother of his child.. his savior.. you.. the Heart of the Sea.

"I'm not leaving you again... never.." he breathed as he moved faster. "'M going to stay for our little family.. for you." He leaned down and kissed you, muffling your cries as he picked up the pace. "I'm going to cum..."

You gasped and whined as you felt the knot building in you again. "Me too.."

He licked two fingers and brought them to your clit. "Come on jagiya, you can give me one more baby..." He rubbed furiously. "Please he whined and you came again, pussy clenching tightly on Hyunjin.

He moaned and grit his teeth as he came as well. His hips bucked to yours as he released load after load into you before falling over you, holding himself up with his forearms.

You pulled him down to you, his head resting on your bare chest, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and you whispered, running your hand through his damp hair, "I love you, Hyune... Welcome home.."