#feel free to use the echo btw!

[ra-vio]

this blog is 11 years old now 🎉

I drew the siblings ever to celebrate as usual

[mrpenguinpants]

Just the weight I needed.

— You ask to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

— Phainon, Mydei + Jing Yuan

[Masterlist]

After that monster of a Lighter fic, I just wanted to write something nice and silly. I'm serious, the next fic I write might actually be 20k words. The title is from BSD btw, love and kisses to whoever gets it.

Phainon

Realistically, if you brought the idea up to Phainon, it could go one of two ways. One possibility is that he’d be fully on board—no hesitation, no questions asked, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. He’d immediately drop to the ground in one fluid motion, presenting his back like a beautifully adorned, living throne, every muscle flexing with anticipation. His arms would be poised, elbows bent just enough to secure the perfect balance, ready to support you as he began his impromptu strength training. His determined blue eyes would gleam with unshakable resolve, like a knight pledging his undying loyalty to his sovereign. To him, carrying you wouldn’t just be an exercise—it would be a calling, an honor, a challenge to conquer.

The other possibility? A completely different reaction. Phainon, with a rare, grave expression—one that only emerged in times of true distress—would place his hands firmly on your shoulders, his grip unwavering, grounding you in place. His normally vibrant demeanor would dim, his brows drawing together in deep concern as he searched your face for any sign of distress. And then, with a devastated choke, his voice thick with unfiltered worry, he’d ask, “Are you being blackmailed?”

It's not like your request is so out there that Phainon needs to find you a scapegoat for why you're asking. This isn't even the first time he's bent far stricter rules with actual consequences slightly to fulfill your requests! The man has an impressive track record of brushing the laws of common decency and practicality under the rug when it comes to helping you out. Take that one time in the baths for instance—when you were trying to get some peace and quiet, hiding under a sea of bubbles to avoid your duties. Phainon, ever the loyal accomplice, had simply closed his eyes, zipped his mouth shut with a soft snap of his fingers, and let you lie in blissful, responsibility-free silence. No questions asked. No protest. Just remarking about how difficult it was to find you before walking away.

Or the most recent example, when you decided to spy on the newest esteemed guests. It was a delicate situation, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to sneak a peek without drawing attention. So, of course, you enlisted Phainon’s help. He positioned himself like a human shield, blocking any unwanted gazes as you peered from behind him, hidden by his imposing figure. All the while, you stayed as quiet as possible, watching the guests converse with Aglaea while Phainon pretended to be entirely uninterested, despite his complete awareness of what you were up to. The point is, this request? It’s nothing compared to the stunts he’s pulled for you in the past. It wouldn't even include anyone outside you two!

Suggestion: Inflection baby! Sound just as enthusiastic as him! (It's not like he would ever say no)

Delighted squeals and giggles echo off the marbled walls as your view of the giant sphere in the sky—situated at the center of Okhema—bobs up and down, like a real ball you used to play with as a kid. In fact, everything about this moment feels like you've been transported back in time, swept up in a childish sort of joy that you haven't felt in years. Even though it's undeniably a silly sight—you, perched sideways on Phainon's back, your toes just barely hovering above the ground—you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t at least a tiny bit fun. It took a bit of hassle to convince Phainon that no, you weren’t being blackmailed, bribed, or coerced into this request. There were no hidden motives, no dark secrets behind it—just a plain, simple, and entirely ridiculous desire to see if he could do it.

"Don't forget that you're supposed to keep count," Phainon chastises lightly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the bright, boyish grin tugging at his lips. His tone is more playful than scolding, his usual boundless energy making it impossible to take him seriously. It's weird seeing him from this angle, half of his face turned over his shoulder as your neck cranes down for once. Seriously, what were they feeding this man?

"Oops, sorry!" you manage between muffled laughter, barely able to catch your breath, "I guess I lost track... maybe we should start over?"

"If that's what Your Highness wants, then it shall be done," Phainon says as easily as breathing, bending his elbows to push up again.

Mydei

Haha. No. Just no.

First of all, you wouldn’t even be a significant weight for Mydei—he could take you on as resistance training in the same way a bodybuilder might consider lifting a single book. If anything, he’d have to stack at least five more of you just to make it remotely challenging. Secondly, why on Amphoreus would you think he’d let you sit on his back? Best-case scenario, he’d stare at you with a long, exhausted sigh before asking if you’d recently taken a tumble down the stairs and cracked your head open. It’s not like he’s even being that mean when he says it anyway. Well, for Mydei standards at least. The fact that he hasn't bashed your head into the floor is, quite frankly, a miracle. The fact he hasn't bashed your head into the concrete itself is a wild understatement that you've lowered any respect he has for you over the days you've been acquainted with him.

Your first meeting was when you had misjudged how many steps there were and slipped forward. The inviting concrete was ready with open arms to split your head open, but Mydei, ever the observant type, had caught you just in time. There you were, suspended in mid-air, not even sure how you ended up there. Your limbs flailed like a ragdoll as he pulled on the back of your shirt with one arm, effortlessly lifting you with little more than the ease of a casual stretch. You'd been too stunned to even form words at the time—only managing a stammered thank-you as he set you back down as if saving you from an embarrassing death by stairs was just another casual Tuesday for him. In retrospect, it was a miracle you hadn’t cracked your skull open on the concrete. And of course, he’d said something entirely deadpan in response, like, "Pay attention next time," before turning back to his blue-haired companion. And he wonders why you're so obsessed with wanting to sit on his back.

Mydei has a short fuse and a quick temper, and as much as you'd really like to put your hand on his chest just to see his reaction, you also enjoy breathing a little too much to risk it. Not to mention, you can’t exactly take him in a fight. If you could, staking a bet that if you won, he’d have to fulfill your request would be a piece of cake. But alas, he's built like a wall, and your ability to land a punch would probably be a joke in comparison. So instead, you're left with the very real, very sensible option of begging and wearing him down with your charm—or at least hoping he’ll eventually tire of saying no. The risk? Well, it's still there, but that’s what makes it fun, right?

Suggestion: Beggars can't be choosers and living is pretty cool. Better to ask Phainon instead.

You've barely uttered the first syllable of your question before you're unceremoniously scooped up by the back of your clothing, lifted from the ground like a disgruntled cub being dragged away by its mother. Except, in this case, it's more like being hoisted over someone's firm shoulder, your limbs dangling helplessly as you're treated like a sack of potatoes. The bewilderment on your face is a new look as Phainon's figure grows smaller and smaller in the distance, the sound of your protests muffled by the unexpected shift. Amid your confusion, you catch sight of the blue bastard waving gleefully, a cheery smile plastered across his face as if he’s just won some kind of victory.

"Um, not that I'm complaining, but... where exactly are you taking me?" you ask, your voice tentative as you try to adjust yourself on his shoulder. On one hand, you're living the dream, able to feel those muscles effortlessly hoisting you up like you're nothing more than a feather. But on the other, his shoulder is starting to dig uncomfortably into your stomach, and it's quickly turning into a rather awkward ride. You shift slightly, trying to find a less painful position, but all you accomplish is further squishing yourself against his back.

"Training room." is all Mydei says. There's no snark, no extra words, just that one brief statement that leaves you quite literally and metaphorically hanging.

"Ah. Training room, huh?" you say back lamely, even though you're internally screaming in elation, your arms up in the air as you bow toward whatever Aeon is looking out for you.

You can totally tell by the way Mydei drops you in the middle of the pathway that he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Jing Yuan

Contrary to popular belief, you aren't blind. Even if the General is a bit too old to still be in his "bachelor" years—do those even truly exist for long-life species?—Jing Yuan is... well, let’s just say he’s easy on the eyes. Super easy. A five-star resort easy on the eyes. Is this what they call a silver foxian? He was the one who off-handedly mentioned it when your traitorous eyes had decided to linger a tad bit too long on the shape of his back during a meeting. Of course, you had to act all professional about it, clearing your throat and giving him a strict reprimand about how inappropriate it was to bring such things up in a work environment. You almost nailed the tone too, until you rounded the corner and crumbled into a puddle of embarrassment. What the hell just happened? How did he do that to you with just one little comment? That was so... unfair. It didn’t help that the image of sitting on his back while he did push-ups kept playing in your mind—every chiseled angle, every movement, the way he had to flex those back muscles with each rep. Seriously, how were you supposed to function with that lingering in your thoughts?

It takes several days for neither of you to address the elephant in the room. The tension lingers in the air, thick and unspoken, but it doesn't quite impede your duties. You carry on with your work, he continues to be as "lax" as ever—his presence still an odd mix of effortless command and lazy confidence. But there's something there, a shift, subtle yet undeniable. Every time you glance at him, there's the tiniest degree of something different in his smile, a sharpness to it that grows more cat-like with each passing moment. His expression seems to hold a quiet, menacing amusement as he sits across from you, still and patient, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels almost predatory. He reminds you of his pet lion in those moments, the way she watches her prey with those intense, knowing eyes. Her demeanor is calm, almost gentle, until the moment she pounces, and you can’t help but imagine the way the small, frail necks of her dinner break so easily between the crushing strength of her jaws. Yet, her owner, Jing Yuan, still calls her the sweetest, most docile creature, even with blood still staining her paws. A crazy man.

Patience is a virtue, they say. And eventually, with enough time, water will wear down the hardest stone. You’ve tried to avoid it, to ignore the inevitable, but today feels different. The morning is quiet, bathed in the soft light of the rising sun—a golden hour where the world feels still as if it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. It’s just you and Jing Yuan, silently preparing for the events ahead, the hum of the day yet to begin. There are meetings lined up, one in particular that has been pushed back so many times due to Jing Yuan’s absences that it's now on the verge of becoming a disaster. The final meeting needs to happen tonight, or his white mane might end up skewered on the end of a spear. The weight of it lingers in the air, but for now, it’s just the two of you, and the calm chirping of his precious finches acts as the only soundtrack to the morning’s preparations. As you glance at him—his calm, unflappable demeanor, his steady hands—something shifts inside you. It’s not immediate, but it’s undeniable. You finally allow yourself to acknowledge what’s been sitting in the back of your mind, simmering beneath the surface: you’re no better than your General.

Suggestion: Life is too short for things like dignity and shame, go for the throat!

"General, I apologize for my lapse in judgment, but I seriously cannot do this, or I might suffer a stroke."

Your words come out in a strangled rush, your face contorting into a myriad of expressions—none of them quite fitting for the situation. You're staring down at Jing Yuan, sprawled out on his stomach, looking entirely unbothered as he waits for you to—well, do exactly what he’d asked. Sit on his back. You have to remind yourself that it was technically his suggestion, his agreement when you’d tentatively raised the question, and yet here you are, mentally spiraling into a moral crisis. Every fiber of your being screams that this is just... wrong. This can't possibly be something that should happen in a professional setting, in a place of authority, with a man who is the very definition of your superior.

But no, there’s Jing Yuan, lying there with that serene look in his eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips as if this were just another ordinary task in his day. You swallow thickly, still battling with your internal conflict, even though the situation is slowly spinning out of your control. How did this become a thing?

"Ah, well. I will not force you to do something you're so against," Jing Yuan says with a light chuckle, standing up smoothly as if your entire dilemma was merely a fleeting thought. He pats his pants as if brushing away any invisible dust, his movements deliberate and calm. Then, with a casual grace, he crosses his arms behind his back, his posture exuding the confidence and composure only someone of his status could command. "But it is a warrior's shame to go back on their words, don't you agree?"

You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback by his smoothness, but the weight of his words presses on you. You can almost feel the invisible pressure of your promise tightening around you. You stammer a bit, trying to regain some semblance of control, but you can only manage a meek response.

"Ah— I... yes, General."

Before you can fully process the situation, his large, warm hand lands heavily on your shoulder. It's not the usual friendly gesture, though. No, this time it feels more like a reminder—one that makes you shrink into yourself involuntarily. His hand is firm and for the briefest moment, you feel like you're pinned in place by the sheer force of his presence. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but now, in the face of his unwavering authority, you can’t help but feel small.

"So, I can count on you to fill in my stead for today's meeting then?" Jing Yuan's voice is light, but there's an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. A satisfied lion getting away with murder, "Excellent, I knew I could count on you!"

[harmonyrae]

Itty Bitty Titty Love

Synopsis: You’ve always been insecure of your chest size. Even an ass man appreciates nice tits… What if you’re no longer attractive to them when they see you for the first time? The boys are VERY eager to put your worries to rest.

AN: As a member of the itty bitty titty committee myself and realizing I can embrace my free will as an author, I wrote this for my itty bitty girlies. Also, it’s just hot imaging the boys thumbing nipples like thumbsticks on a gamepad. Cover picture is Queen Zendaya btw :)

Content Warnings: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus all basically try to suck your soul out through your tits, a shit ton of nipple play, they do be worshiping ya body, angst, body insecurities, medical references, mentions of plastic surgery, alcohol, explicit language, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 9.1k

“Your fingernails are going to fall off if you keep biting them like that.”

Zayne’s voice snapped you back to the present. He hadn’t even looked up from the folder in his hand. You drop your hand from your mouth and stuff both hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. You continue picking at your nails now that Zayne can’t scrutinize your bad habit.

“Stop picking at your nails.”

How does he always know? You remove them from your pocket and fold your hands in your lap. You squeeze your hands as tightly as you can to distract yourself. Zayne has been your doctor for some time, check-ups were not new, but your relationship is. You had officially become Zayne’s girlfriend a few weeks ago and while things were going well, you had both decided to take things slow when it came to anything physical. Making out and sleeping in the same bed while holding onto each other was as far as you’d gone.

“Go ahead and change into a gown, please.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a subtle gasp echoing in through the small office. You straighten up and clear your throat trying to cover up your embarrassment. Zayne looks up at you before placing the folder on his desk. He walks over and places his hands on either side of your thighs on the examination table. His thumbs lightly stroking your thighs to stop your jittery legs from shaking. 

“My love, you’ve been anxious all morning. What’s wrong?”

Your heart melts at his nickname for you, he’s always telling you how much he adores you. And he can always tell when you’re upset. He doesn’t back down until you talk to him and he can help you work through the problem. 

“It’s just… I didn’t think we would have to do a full exam. Usually you just listen to my heart and do a quick EKG.”

“Yes, but the last echocardiogram and MRI was a year ago. We need to check for any changes.”

A year ago, Zayne had been at a conference and you had done those exams with another doctor. You remember feeling awkward then, exposed and uncomfortable. But your heart condition had to be monitored thoroughly or you’d be let go from the Association so you dealt with it. But now, with Zayne back you were feeling a wave of anxiety that was… different. 

“Do I have to put on the gown?” 

Zayne cocked his head, scanning your face in an attempt to understand your worries.

“If your bra has any wiring it will disrupt the tests and damage the machine. It is also optimal for the electrocardiogram so we can place more electrodes and get a clearer reading. And the gel we use for the echocardiogram would ruin the fabric.”

He explained everything so effortlessly. Even if you had worn a wireless bra, which of course you didn’t because you needed all the help you could get, you would still have to remove it for the other tests. You felt your heart pound and your stomach drop as you thought about Zayne seeing you topless. And it wasn’t the “excited and sexy” kind of nervousness. 

You are not well-endowed, you just aren’t. You know there is nothing wrong with it, but when it comes to intimacy you always wonder if you’re too small and he won’t be satisfied. And with how Zayne always ends up kissing your collarbone and any sliver of exposed skin on your chest during your make out sessions, you were more anxious than you’ve ever been.

“Oh… okay.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

Zayne tilts your chin up to look at him. His thumb traces your jaw.

“I promise to stay professional, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

You shake your head, the last thing you want him to think is you think he’d be unprofessional. 

“No, no… I’ll change, just… can I.. uhm…” 

Zayne catches on and straightens, slowly turning towards the door. 

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, okay?”

You nod and watch him leave. You try to take a deep breath and your chest shakes. You finally stand and pull your hoodie over your head, folding it neatly before setting it on the chair next to the exam table. You turn to face the small mirror hung behind the door and reach behind to unclasp your bra. You tug the straps down and lift the padded cups away. As you fold your bra into as tiny a ball as possible, you stare at your bare chest. It’s not that your breasts were ugly, in fact, they were quite perky. Your rosy pink nipples hardening against the cool office air were… pretty? But no matter how many compliments you gave yourself, you still felt too small.

You sling the medical gown over your shoulders and tie the strings at the waist. After tucking your folded bra inside your hoodie, you sit back down on the exam table and wait for Zayne.

The door finally cracks open and you hear him call from outside the door.

“May I come in?”

You huff out a laugh and wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Yea, I’m ready.”

He enters with a small cart covered in a variety of machines. You recognize most of them. The wand of an ultrasound, the electrodes connected to wires neatly stacked by the monitor that would show the results. Zayne locks the wheels of the cart beside the table and motions for you to lie back. You hesitate and shift backwards slowly, finally settling back against the padded table, your hands still clenched around your waist. 

Zayne places a hand over yours and leans over to look down at you.

“It’ll be over before you know it, we’re not doing anything new.”

You give him a weak smile and watch him walk over to the small sink to wash his hands and put on gloves. He returns to your side and starts to undo the strings of the gown, your hands still somewhat in the way. As anxious as you are, you also notice how wet you’ve become. The thought of Zayne’s hands on your bare skin makes you clit throb. 

Just as he begins to pull the gown open you hear a muffled sob, you don’t even realize the sound came from your own mouth. Zayne immediately stops and moves to hover over your face, his gloved hands stroking your cheeks and wiping away tears - that you didn’t realize had started to fall. 

“This isn’t about the tests, is it? Please tell me what’s wrong. Please…”

His voice is gentle and you pinch your eyes closed, guilt washing over you. You should have talked to him about your insecurities sooner. You’re crying in his exam room, wasting his time with your emotions when he could be treating other patients. He takes hold of your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“For the moment, I’m not your doctor, I’m just Zayne. Tell me what’s going on, my love.”

You cover your face with your hand and take a deep breath knowing you have to get the words out quickly or you’ll crumble.

“I’ve always been self-conscious about my chest size. I barely have breasts and wear push up bras with padding to look normal but really I barely fill out an A cup. I know you like to kiss my chest and I feel like you’re going to be disappointed and I know this is a doctor's appointment and you’ll be professional but this is the first time you’re seeing my chest and I am embarrassed…” 

Your final words are a tad muffled as you struggle to get them out. You keep your eyes covered with your hand and let out a shaky breath. After a minute, Zayne pries your hand away and you open your eyes to look up at him. A gentle smile tugs at his lips and he holds onto both of your hands. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I do love to kiss your chest. And I can’t wait to savor every inch of your skin. Your breasts are perfect because they’re a part of you.”

More tears stream down your face and your heart hammers inside your chest. You are undeniably wet and aching to be touched, but your first time with Zayne would not be in his exam room. Even if it does give you major Grey’s Anatomy vibes and there are plenty of scenes you’d love to recreate - Zayne the Derek to your Meredith. 

“Let me see you darling, please.”

His whisper sends chills down your spine and you move your hands way letting him open the gown. He settles his hands on your waist right below your ribcage. You keep your eyes locked on his face, your chest heaves and you feel your nipples tighten. Zayne drops his eyes and lets out a soft breathy moan. His eyes snap back to yours.

“Will you allow me to be ‘just Zayne’ for another moment?”

You nod slowly, your face and chest feeling hot under his gaze. You watch as he lowers his head and places a kiss to your collarbone. Your weeping cunt is pulsating with anticipation. His lips lower and he kisses the center of your chest between your breasts. You feel his hot breath fan across your chest making your shoulders tremble. His hand splays across your stomach, you realize he removed his gloves, his skin caressing yours leaves you gasping. 

Then you feel his wet lips capture your nipple and you groan, louder than you intended. You clasp your hand over your mouth, but Zayne doesn’t stop. His tongue flicks over your sensitive peak and you arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. His hand glides from your stomach to your other breast, his thumb pressing onto your neglected nipple. He rolls his thumb in a circular motion, sending your nerves into a frenzy. 

He switches sides and sucks your nipple into his mouth. His hand switches as well, his nimble fingers rolling your swollen nipple between them. You feel the cold metal on the clasp of his badge brush against your skin bringing goosebumps to the surface in an instant.

“Zayne… mhm god…”

He moans against you and the vibrations against your chest make your head spin. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug. He kneads your breast, letting his hand press and rub.

“If you don’t - ahh - stop, I’m gonna… fuck Zayne…”

He finally releases your nipple with a wet pop. He lifts his head to meet your eyes and looks at you over his smudged glasses. His face flushed, a drop of sweat rolling down his temple.  

“Your breasts are beautiful and I can’t wait…”

He places a kiss on each of your nipples while rubbing his hands down your waist. You shiver and lean your head back on the table.

“...to continue this at home. But for now, I think you should get dressed and speak to reception about rescheduling this appointment.”

You lift your head quickly and stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wait… why?”

He rises and closes your gown. He offers his hand and you take it, helping you sit up.

“Because I don’t think I’ll get an accurate reading after… my examination.”

You giggle and lift your hands to his face, pulling him closer to you. He leans in and kisses you without hesitation. You’ll never forget this moment. Zayne desired your body as it was, itty bitty titties included.

You knew a second bowl of hot pot was a bad idea, but it was so delicious and the weather was so cold you didn’t care. You cuddle up next to Xavier as you tip the bowl back, slurping down the warm broth. Xavier chuckles as he lifts a napkin to your chin, catching a droplet before it stained your sweater. 

“Thanks.”

Your mouth is full of noodles and meat as you speak, only making Xavier laugh harder. He sets down his third bowl and wraps an arm around you. A gust of cold air whips your hair across your face. Xavier quickly tucks the strand behind your ear. Your cheeks, flushed from the cold wind and hot soup, now burn hotter under his gaze.

“Thank you for coming to find me tonight.”

You lean your head onto his shoulder. You feel him let out a deep breath. When Jenna told you he had gone missing after his meeting with her, you immediately started looking for him. You knew he was getting close to catching a write up, but didn’t expect it to happen so soon. When you found him in your favorite spot, your heart broke.

The place where Xavier asked you to officially be his girlfriend a little over two weeks ago. An old bench on top of a hill that overlooked the entirety of Linkon - or almost all of it. The city lights glow and the stars shimmer against the dark indigo sky. During the spring the hill is covered in flowers, the grass a vibrant green in the summer months, in autumn crisp colorful leaves and when winter comes children love to use the steep slope to sled. You’d watched a whole year pass on this bench, talking with Xavier about anything and everything. And when he finally asked you to be his, you didn’t hesitate, pulling him into a kiss you’ve craved since you met him.

But tonight, you sat with him until the moon had fully risen. He told you about the meeting with Jenna. She had written him up for being reckless on his last mission. He had used himself as bait for the Wanderer and gotten himself badly injured. She had given him countless warnings, but finally had to put something in writing. You held his hand as he sat in silence.

“I know she had to, I’m not upset.”

You nodded, but you knew he was frustrated and embarrassed. He had once led a whole crew, held a position of authority, and been the one to hand out punishments. And now, he was receiving them. You knew he could have been promoted multiple times, but he always turned it down. He enjoyed the daily grind of fighting Wanderers. And he loved being your partner. 

Eventually, you heard his stomach growl. You dragged him down the hill to your bike and went to your favorite hot pot restaurant. It was just before closing so the owner offered to serve you as long as you sat outside so they could start cleaning the sitting area. And even though it was cold, you both agreed quickly, your hunger winning out over your comfort. Now you were sitting back, cuddled up next to Xavier with a full belly and wanted nothing more than to curl up with him on the couch for the rest of the night.

The drive home was slow, the road to your apartment complex was getting work done so you had to wait an extra 20 minutes waiting for a path to clear. Xavier had rested his head against your back, his hands wrapped around your waist. During the wait, he had shifted his hands to your hips. When he started rubbing circles into your lower back with his thumbs, you felt your heart skip. He shifted his hands under your sweater to touch your skin, continuing his massage. When he started to move his hands around to your stomach you stiffened. 

“I’m sorry…”

His voice was soft, barely audible through his helmet. You shook your head.

“No no, just unexpected is all.” He resumed rubbing his fingers along your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. 

By the time you had parked at your apartment, his hands had trailed down to your waistband caressing your stomach and dipping down to rub your inner thighs. You parked your bike and leaned back against him, letting out a sigh that fogged up your visor. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“Do you want to come up to my place?”

His voice had an edge to it, something dark and dangerously sexy. You nodded and you both dismounted and removed your helmets before heading into the building. While you were excited, you also felt a twinge of anxiety. Would this just be your usual make-out or did he want something more? And if he wanted something more… would he be disappointed in your body?

You’ve toyed around with the idea of a breast enhancement for years. You were barely 18 when you asked your grandma about it. She had shut down the idea immediately, telling you to wait until you were 25 and reconsider. You just felt so disproportionate, opting to wear baggy clothes. While you enjoyed being comfortable, you always felt like you were hiding.

Now, Xavier was holding your waist closely while the elevator made its slow ascent to his floor. You leaned back against him, his hands trailing lower, pulling your hips back against his groin. You grinded against him instinctively, your mind going blank as you felt his erection press against your ass. He groaned softly in your ear and kissed your neck.

The elevator door opened and Xavier raced forward, pulling you along by your wrist. You giggle as you stumble forward following him to his apartment door. He presses his thumb down and swings the door open dragging you inside. 

Once you were inside, his hands went to work removing your layers. Your thick winter coat falling to the floor behind you, your scarf, your gloves. You tug at his hoodie, watching him pull it over his head to reveal his firm torso, his abs tensing as his breathing becomes more labored. He kept kissing your lips, your neck, your hands - any skin he could reach. 

You collapse onto the couch with him, he crawls over you, settling between your thighs. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, your pants slipping down slightly to grant him more access to your bare skin. His hands start to move upwards towards the hem of your sweater and just as he slips beneath the thick fabric you gasp into his mouth. Your hand flying down from where you had been gripping his shoulder to stop him.

He jumps at your sudden movement, his hand frozen in place. He looks at you, his eyes hazy with lust. 

“I’m sorry, I thought… we’ll stop?”

His voice was gentle, but you could tell he was barely holding back… his kisses had been so intense. You stare at him with wide eyes, your fingers digging into his neck. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

He takes hold of your chin, sitting up on his knee. His gaze sends a burst of heat straight to your core. You wanted him so damn badly, but your stomach kept doing backflips. You were so uncertain how he would react to your body, would he act like he loved it but secretly be disappointed?

“Are you okay? Did I go too far?”

The concern in his voice makes you nearly choke on a sob. You shake your head furiously.

“No, not at all! I… uhm…”

“What is it, baby?”

You often rely on sarcasm and brush off delicate topics because you’d rather crawl in a hole than feel weak. So you take a deep breath and brace yourself.

“I just feel like I should warn you, I’m part of a committee.”

Xavier stares at you, his brows furrow. He leans over, resting his side against the back of the couch. He keeps one hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“The itty bitty titty committee. I have no tits basically and I think you’ll be disappointed, but I’m going to get a boob job in a few years once I’ve saved up enough so maybe –”

Before you can continue, Xavier clasps a hand over your mouth. He leans in close, his knee pressing against your core making you shiver. 

“I can promise you, I won’t be disappointed.”

You give him a look, a “sure, okay” look. He scoffs and proceeds to lift the hem of your sweater slowly. He presses his mouth to your ear, giving your earlobe a nibble.

“I think I should take a look. Decide for myself, yea?”

He lifts his hand from your mouth and looks at you, he waits for you to give him the go ahead. With a subtle nod, he lifts you up, his hands diving under the back of your sweater. He swiftly unhooks your bra and pulls it out from under your sweater, tossing it onto his coffee table. He lets you fall back down onto the couch before he lifts the front of your sweater and sticks his head underneath. 

“Xavier!”

You gasp and barely have time to register what’s happening when you feel it, his tongue pressed flat against your nipple. Your hips buck and you grind against the growing bulge in his pants. He groans as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks and licks and rolls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand reaches under to pinch your other nipple. 

You’re not sure why you expected him to be gentle. It felt like he was trying to suck your soul out of your breast and when he grazed his teeth against the tender flesh you nearly screamed. He nibbled and damn near made out with your breast. Without warning he switched sides, giving your other nipple the same treatment. 

“Oh oh oh ooohhh fuck…”

You were rolling your hips against him while arching your back trying to trap his mouth against your chest. He started squeezing your breasts, making your nipples strain and tighten even more. He opened his mouth even wider and licked your breast up and down, changing sides over and over and over. Your head was pressed so far into the cushion your neck was starting to ache. 

“Xav pleasepleaseplease oh god uh fuck ahh…”

He finally pulled his head out from under your sweater. He wasted no time lifting your sweater right off of your body, rolling it up and tucking it under your hips. He starts to unbutton your pants, but slows to lean forward and capture your nipple again with his mouth.

“Xavier god ahh..”

He mumbles against your breast, letting his lips drag across each peak as he switches sides as he speaks, never leaving your chest alone for a moment.

“Do you want more, baby girl?”

You tug at his hair forcing him to look up at you, his face flushed and sweat coating his chest.

“God yes… please Xav, please…”

He grins as he leans down and places gentle kisses to the center of your chest. He continues to work your pants off of you.

“Your tits are delicious honey, don’t you dare change a thing.”

You close your eyes and hold on for dear life as Xavier takes you for the first time. Your tiny titties were nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, he loved them. Now what to do with all that money you saved up for that surgery?

“If you don’t get your cute ass down here I’ll have to restart the movie and I’m already wet!”

Rafayel’s voice rings through the house. His tone was serious, but playful as ever. You knew he would restart the movie without complaints, he was just impatient. You stare at yourself in the mirror, pushing your breasts together, trying to retie your bikini top to make them appear larger, but nothing is working. 

You sigh and grab hold of the sink. You take a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. When Rafayel suggested a movie night you were all for it. He had painted a portrait of a famous director's dog so he sent Rafayel a copy of his upcoming film. Getting a sneak peak at what is sure to be this fall’s most popular movie was enticing. But then Rafayel suggested making it a movie night by the pool. He had an outdoor screen and the old fashioned lights strung above the infinity pool would surely make the night magical. But as soon as he suggested it, your heart sank. He was so excited, so you didn’t refuse, but all day you’d been tense thinking about what you’d wear.

Your bright blue bikini was your favorite, simple but comfortable. The triangle top on most girls would probably not cover much, but for you it was relatively modest. Usually, you didn’t care what people thought. If you went to the beach, you wore your bikini and had a great time, end of story. But when it came to Rafayel, you suddenly felt… exposed and… lacking. 

When Rafayel asked you to be his girlfriend you didn’t even let him finish the question before jumping into his arms screaming yes. You had actually knocked him over, both of you falling into the fountain outside the aquarium. You spent 5 minutes laughing and just sat there. He held onto you, like he was afraid you’d drift away the moment you stood up. 

It hadn’t even been a week and the amount of times you had almost thrown caution to the wind and dropped to your knees just to get a taste… Yeah, this is concerning. And you can tell Rafayel is feeling the same way, the way he holds onto you and kisses your neck. He wants to leave his mark and make sure everyone can see it. The various hickeys on your neck and shoulders were more than enough to send a clear message to your coworkers and friends.

You both had been dancing around the conversation of being intimate. You wanted it to be natural, but you also felt so self-conscious you weren’t sure you’d ever be ready. Maybe you can just tell him you love doggy and he won’t have to see your chest? But every time you tried to turn around in bed he would hold you tighter, wanting to face you and feel your cheek against his chest. 

You grabbed one of Rafayel’s t-shirts out of his dresser and tugged it on. You knotted the excess fabric at the hip, but kept the chest loose. You swept your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head and jogged down the stairs and towards the backyard. 

You could hear the ocean from his yard, the constant crashing of the waves against the shore had become your favorite sound - besides Rafayel’s singing. You could hear him humming to himself while he prepared mixed drinks at the bar next to the pool. His swim trunks were fitted, showing off his adorable ass and leaving nothing to the imagination. You could feel your core start to pulse. 

You cross your arms over your chest and approach the bar, silently slipping onto one of the bar stools. You clear your throat dramatically.

“Bartender! I’d like to order please!”

Rafayel jumped and clicked his tongue as he turned around.

“That’s not funny! I could have dropped a glass.”

His pout made your smile hurt your cheeks. He strolled over and placed a hurricane glass in front of you. The glass is lightly frosted from the blended drink. Bright blue slushy at the bottom with a yellow layer on top, a slice of pineapple on the rim next to a straw. 

“A Rafayel special. I just had leftover stuff from the party last weekend, so this is… uhh… unique. It’s basically a Blue Hawaiian on the bottom with a Pina Colada on top. All made with Rum, so we are not mixing liquors. Learned the hard way about that one…” 

You lean forward and take a sip, the sweet and sour combo makes your lips pucker and eyes squeeze shut. When you open your eyes, you see Rafayel staring at you, waiting for a verdict.

“It’s sour, I like it! What will you call it?”

He tilts his head, lifting his hand to his chin. You let your eyes drift while he is distracted, his broad shoulders tapering down to a tight waist. His abs defined and glistening with water, you guess he had already jumped in, maybe to test the temperature? You sigh and when you return your eyes to his face, you see he is looking at you with a smug grin.

“You’re staring, cutie.”

You scoff and take another sip of your drink, the sour aftertaste hits you like a brick. You shake your head and hop off the bar stool, taking your drink with you as you walk around the edge of the pool. You hear Rafayel following you. 

“So you have the movie ready?”

Rafayel hums and plants his hands on your hips. You lean back against him and breathe in his sweet scent, he always smelled like the ocean in the best way. It made your head spin. You feel him take your drink from your hand and set it on a nearby table. You close your eyes and sway with him. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong moment to trust him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lunged into the pool dragging you with him. 

He’s lucky the water is warm or you’d have slapped him silly. You wiggle against his grasp, the water dragging you down. But just as quickly as you sank to the bottom, you are being pulled to the surface. You slap Rafayel’s arm as you surface, spinning around to splash him.

“Rafayel! You little shit!”

Rafayel laughs and splashes water back at you. He finally grabs your waist and pulls you back to him, his lips finding yours in an instant. You taste Rum on his lips, he always did prefer to drink it straight, only opting to drink “pretty drinks” when he was with you. The spicy undertones linger as he dips his tongue into your mouth. You moan as his tongue tangles with yours. He sucks your tongue into his mouth as his hands reach down to position your thighs around his waist. 

You’re nearly delirious when you finally pull back, his mouth moving to your neck while you catch your breath. 

“Did you even put the movie in? Or are you - fuck… are you —”

He cuts you off by kissing you once more. He pulls back just enough to mumble against your mouth.

“We can watch the movie, if you want. Or we can… make one ourselves?”

You let out a loud moan as he bites your lower lip. His hands move to palm your ass before tucking his fingers under your shirt, pulling up slowly. You pull back, tearing your mouth away, and reach for his hands. His eyes are full of surprise which slowly morphs into fear.

“What happened? What did I do?”

You shake your head, holding his face in your hands. 

“Nothing, you didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

You remove your legs from around his waist and he reluctantly lets go of your hips. You swim to the edge and hoist yourself up to sit with your legs in the water. You immediately tug on your shirt so it won’t cling to your body. Rafayel swims over and stands up, the water only to his stomach, he crosses his arms and rests his forearms on your knees. 

“What’s up cutie? What happened there?”

You try to laugh it off and pinch his cheek playfully.

“I told you, it’s nothing. I just… I was surprised, that’s all.”

His nose scrunches up and he tilts his head.

“It’s a surprise I want my hands all over you? We’ve been like this all week, what changed tonight? Something definitely changed.”

He’s right. All week if you weren’t kissing him, you were hugging him, if you weren’t hugging him you were holding his hand, if you weren’t holding his hand you were touching him in some way. And he was doing the exact same to you. The only difference was how exposed you were, how little clothing you had on. You were afraid, afraid he wouldn’t be as attracted to you once he saw how small your breasts were. Although you believe he is an ass man, his hands always found a way to hold onto you there, you still felt inadequate. 

He tapped your forehead and you looked up, blinking at him slowly.

“You’re thinking about it, but not saying it. Out with it, beautiful.”

He leans on your legs, his face inches from your own. He has the faintest hint of a pout and you hate how easily you fold for that little lip. Your fiddle with your fingers, uncertain what to do with your hands. Finally you sigh and meet his eye.

“I don’t have much going on… with my chest. It’s like I never went through puberty or something cause I just… I don’t have… I don’t want you to be disappointed.” 

You feel your cheeks burn and you lift your hands to cover your face. When you feel the pressure of Rafayel’s arms on your legs disappear your stomach drops. Then you feel his hands around your wrists, slowly pulling your hands away. You keep your eyes cast downwards and shift uncomfortably on the tile beneath you. 

“Cutie?”

His gentle voice warms you from the inside out and you look up at him. His beautiful smile is contagious and you feel the corners of your mouth tip upwards. You huff out a laugh, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I have never, can never, will never be disappointed in you. Your body makes me…”

He pauses, his hands sliding up your thighs. You instinctively spread your legs for him to slide his waist between them. 

“It makes me… fuck… I feel like I’m on fire. I just want to hold you and touch you…”

His hands continue up your thighs to your hips, his fingers gently lifting the hem of his shirt away from you. He caresses the skin of your stomach, and you’re thankful you're already wet from the pool because your cunt is practically weeping for him.

“Take this off, I want to see you.”

You hesitate for a moment, but finally lift your hands to undo the knot at your waist. You tug at the shirt and pull it over your head, the fabric heavy with water. You drop the shirt to the ground, and round your shoulders, you don’t even realize you’re pushing your breasts together in an attempt to plump them up. When Rafayel grabs your shoulders you practically yelp and look up at him, confused. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t push them together.”

You close your eyes and roll your shoulders back, relaxing them and force yourself to stay still. 

“That’s my job.”

His voice was deeper, a rasp to it that caught you by surprise, just like his hands which cupped your breasts and squeezed them. You lurch forward and gasp. You’re uncertain if you are surprised or angry, but as he begins to flex his hand pushing his palms harder against your nipples you can’t remember. 

“Raf…”

He drops his hands and leans in, kissing your neck. 

“May I?” 

His hands travel up your back and he fiddles with the strings of your top. Your chest rises and falls faster as his eyes stay locked on yours. You nod and lift your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You can feel him untie your top, both at your back and behind your neck. Your body is pressed against his, his hand snakes up your stomach to grab a hold of the fabric and rip it away from your body. The feeling of your tense nipples pressed against his bare chest sends another shockwave through your body. 

He shifts his mouth, kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulders - his hot mouth leaving a trail of saliva behind as he tastes every inch of your skin. One of his hands lifts and squeezes your breast, lifting it to his mouth. His teeth roll your nipple between them, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you press your hips forward suddenly. With your core pressed against his stomach, he holds you up with a hand to your back, his other hand squeezes and tugs at your breasts lining it up perfectly with his mouth. 

You arch your back, your hands rake through his hair and down the back of his neck. He moans as your nails start to dig in. He bites down a little harder and you cry out.

“Fuck fuck ahh fuck Rafayel I… please…”

As he repositions and shifts to massage your neglected breast, he whispers against your skin.

“Fuck… you’re so sensitive. How does this feel?”

He flicks his tongue over your nipple over and over and over and you whimper as your eyes roll back. You’ve never realized how sensitive your nipples were. How just the slightest touch was sending you into a frenzy. Maybe it’s because you were so worried about your size that you just never let anyone touch you this way. But right now, you were convinced he could make you come without even touching your pussy. 

“Please don’t stop, fuuuuck, do that faster…”

He closes his mouth around you and sucks, his tongue never stopping. He no longer needed to hold your breast to his mouth as you were arching into him. He dropped his hand to your core, putting pressure on your clit through your bikini bottoms. You rolled your hips and spread your legs wider, desperate for him to do more. But instead of doing more, he pulled back, releasing your breast and putting less pressure on your throbbing clit. You whimper again, dropping your head to look at him. His smile was wider than ever.

“You are… so goddamn beautiful. Your moans nearly made me lose my mind…”

You feel your cheeks warm. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, letting your fingernails lightly scratch his skin. He shivers and tucks his hands under your ass, lifting you and pulling you into the pool with him. He lowers himself into the water with you, your legs wrapped around him once more. His arms holding you flush against him. 

“Your body is my sanctuary, never forget that, okay?”

You nod, resting your forehead against his. He didn’t see your body in parts, he saw it as a whole and he was obsessed with every single inch. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you. And he did, until you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Why oh why did you agree to go with Sylus to this gala? You already stuck out like a sore thumb in his world, but this? This is torture. 

Sylus made light conversation with the seamstress as she took his measurements for a new custom suit. You couldn’t help but notice how she touched him, her hand lingering longer than it needed to. When she took his waist measurement he made a joke and she put a hand on his fucking chest. You had bit your lip so hard you could taste blood. And now she was leaning close to him asking irrelevant questions when she should have scurried back to her desk. The gala was in two days and she was standing there talking about wine? You shift uncomfortably on the plush sofa. You just wanted to go home.

The seamstress eyed you for a moment, her eyes trailing down your body. That look, you were becoming quite used to it. Being the woman on Sylus’s arm brought you a lot of unwanted attention and judgment. 

You straightened your leather jacket, checking the zippers to make sure they were fastened properly. It was unbearably hot in the boutique, but you didn’t want to take off your jacket. Sylus had surprised you after you got off work, picking you up for dinner and, apparently, shopping for the gala. If you had known, you would have worn your good bra and a shirt that highlighted your waist and distracted from your smaller than average chest.

You’d learned all the tricks of the trade by now. Spending money on a good push-up bra was better than stuffing a mediocre one and risking tissues falling out. You only ever cared when it came to dating, at work you wore a basic sports bra or bralette. Wanderers don’t care that you have tiny titties, they just have to die. 

Before Sylus had started getting serious about his intentions with you, you didn’t care how you looked for him either. But after a few months of joining him as “security” for his deals or him tagging along on a mission, you had fallen so hard for him it was damn near painful. You still remember the day, about 3 weeks ago, when you finally asked him to date officially. You kept waiting for him to ask you, but eventually you got impatient and asked him. His smile was radiant that day and honestly every day since. 

You had agreed to take things slow and try to figure out a plan for your relationship first before getting physical.. His position and your job made things… complicated. But you couldn’t deny the fact you found it pretty hot that you were hiding it. You were enjoying the time you had with him, where no one from your world was judging him. Sadly, you couldn’t escape everyone in his world judging you.

“Sweetie? Did you hear me?”

Sylus’s voice breaks through the white noise in your head and you blink at him. He chuckles and sits down next to you. He leans back and wraps his arm around your shoulder. 

“I said now it’s your turn.”

You tense, your eyes snapping to the seamstress. She looked at you expectantly, her hand on her hip and her lips set in a crooked smirk. You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down her body. Her voluptuous hips and, god, she had a nice rack. She had that hourglass figure that you’d only ever dreamed of. You could see it now, she wraps the measuring tape around your chest and chuckles under her breath. She’d probably mutter something like “Is that all there is?” and you’d want to crawl in a hole.

“Oh, I don’t need to, I have something.”

Sylus raises a brow in surprise. He sits up and leans closer to you, resting his arm on his knees. You cross your arms over your chest and smile innocently. 

“This is a black tie event, kitten. Is it a floor length gown?”

You bite your lip. You definitely did not have a floor length gown. When would you ever need a floor length gown? Well right now, that’s when. You feel your cheeks warm as you glance between Sylus and the seamstress. 

“I’ll circle back in a few minutes and see if she’s ready then.”

That voice is so sickeningly sweet, too sweet, she’s laying it on thick. All “I’m happy to help” and “let me know what you need” and all that bullshit. You cringe and watch her leave. 

“If you don’t want your measurements taken, then you can just try on some dresses.”

You turn to face him and fight to keep your emotions hidden. You did not want to try on anything here. They’d have nothing for you and it would be too expensive.

“We really don’t have to do this, I can make what I have work. Don’t worry. How about we head back to the base? I bet Luke and Kieran are still trying to figure out that puzzle box we got them.”

Sylus leans in further, his nose brushing yours. He takes your chin in his hand.

“I can always tell when you’re lying, sweetie. Care to try that again?”

You scoff and try to pull your face out of his grasp, but he holds firm. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You feign ignorance once again and Sylus chuckles. It’s a deep chuckle, laced with something almost sinister. While you were trying to figure out what he's thinking he grabs onto your waist and lifts you, dragging you over to straddle his lap. You squeal and try to push back to stand up, but Sylus’s grip is too strong.

“Sylus! This isn’t appropriate!” 

Sylus pulls you forward. Your hands press against his chest as you fall onto him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, placing soft kisses behind your ear. You stop resisting for a moment and close your eyes, enjoying the affection. But when you open your eyes, you spot the busty seamstress glaring at you. Green really isn’t her color.

“Sylus, stop, this isn’t –”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He runs his hands over your thighs and you hold your breath. When he squeezes your ass your composure crumbles. You slap his chest and push back, you’re sure your face is on fire with how it’s burning. 

“Little miss perfect body is staring and I just want to go home, okay? Just let me go!”

Sylus leans back to look you in the eye. He scans your face, trying to figure out where this outburst came from. 

“Little miss perfect body?” He repeats your words slowly. 

Your temper was reaching a boiling point. You were overheated in your jacket, the seamstress was staring daggers at you, Sylus’s hands on your body was making your head swim and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you and hold you. You were overwhelmed and were seconds away from running out of the boutique without Sylus.

“Round ass, perfect tits, tiny waist. Can fit into any dress she wants and fill it out perfectly?”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes. His mouth hangs open, but he says nothing.

“You know, the kind of woman people expect to be hanging off your arm? Not someone like me who can never find a dress that fits both my hips and chest because I was blessed with thick thighs but tiny tits and I can afford alterations for every dress I buy, so I just don’t bother.”

You couldn’t stop your rant. You tried to keep your voice steady and avoid yelling, but your heart was pounding and you felt that familiar sting in the back of your throat. You’d rather die than cry in the middle of a high end boutique.

“I don’t have anything to wear to the damn gala and I don’t want that bitchy seamstress to take my measurements and mock my fucking chest size. I want to leave, please Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate to lift you off of his lap, helping you stand up. You straighten your jacket and grab your bag off the floor. You rush to the door and fling it open. Sylus thanks the seamstress and follows you out. You reach his bike and get in the driver seat. Sylus doesn’t say a thing and just hands you the keys once you finish securing your helmet. He climbs on the back and wraps his arms around you as you take off. 

You’re sure you broke several laws trying to get to the Onychinus base, but you didn’t care. You wanted to crawl into your bed and cry. As soon as you parked Sylus’s bike and yanked off your helmet, you stalked into the mansion heading straight for your room. But before you could turn to walk down the hallway leading to your room, you felt your feet lift off the ground. You were tossed over Sylus’s shoulder, his arm holding your legs.

“Sylus! Put me down! Now!”

Sylus remained silent as he carried you through the mansion, he went straight for his room and you felt your stomach twist. You pounded on his back and kept shouting for him to put you down. Which he didn’t do until you were in his room with the door closed. You stumble as you regain your balance. He holds your shoulders as he looks down at you. 

“You’re not leaving until you talk to me.”

You cross your arms and you know you’re pouting, but you just don’t care. He leans down to be at eye-level with you. 

“Sweetie, please. Do you really feel this way about your body?”

Tears well up and you can’t blink them away fast enough, they spill over and roll down your cheeks. You bite your lip and stare at your feet. Sylus moves his hands from your shoulders to your face, his palms warming your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. 

“My chest is too small, my hips are too big, I don’t fit… I don’t fit in here… with you. Everyone at these galas or auctions are stunning and their bodies are so gorgeous, I don’t –”

He cuts you off, his voice has a sharp edge.

“If you think I look at any other woman… Why would I trade a diamond for a lump of coal?”

You stare at him, eyes wide, your mind reeling. Sylus trails his hands down your neck, to your shoulders before settling on your waist.

“Your body is the only thing I truly crave in this world. More than money or gems. Every moment I am with you is pure bliss. You are my world and you are not going to speak about your body like this. Not anymore.”

You gasp and take a deep breath, your bottom lip still quivering. Sylus reaches for the zippers of your jacket and you tense.

“Let me prove to you that your body deserves to be worshiped.”

You feel a heat course through your veins. 

“Okay.”

He unzips your jacket and circles behind you to tug at the sleeves. He tosses your jacket on the couch and proceeds to lift your tank top. You stand before him in one of your tried and true bralettes, nothing fancy and definitely not supportive, but the lace feels nice. His fingers trace over the delicate pattern sending shivers down your spine. He tucks his fingers under the hem and you raise your arms for him to remove it.

When you’re finally standing in front of him, your chest bare, he takes your hand and pulls you over to the bed. He sits on the edge and holds you in front of him. He places his hands over your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. You rest your hands on his forearms, taking a deep breath. 

“Close your eyes.”

You stare at him and open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a warning look. You close your eyes and try to relax your body, but not knowing what he is going to do is making you more anxious and tense. Your forehead starts to hurt from pinching your brows together and you start to wonder if you should have taken some pain relief before starting this… whatever this is… but then Sylus’s mouth presses against your skin. You gasp and grip his arms tighter. He places gentle kisses to the center of your chest, inching closer to your nipples with each kiss. He kisses around your nipple, his nose rubbing against the sensitive flesh making your knees buckle. He leans back and you open your eyes and look down at him, his smile is breathtaking. 

“Turn around.”

You obey instantly, turning around and letting him guide you to sit on his lap. He holds onto your waist as he shifts backwards onto the bed. He settles you between his legs and you lean back against his chest. He places kisses to your neck, sucking and nibbling along the way. His hands rubbing your stomach before he lifts them to fully cup your breasts. 

“Lean your head back and keep your eyes closed for me, angel.”

You do as you’re told, the feeling of his palms pressing against your nipples sending jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You rest your head against him and take slow and steady breaths. His hands shift and you’re about to whine, but then you feel his fingertips press against your nipples. You gasp and push your chest out, his fingers start to move more rapidly, massaging your nipples faster and faster. Rolling the tight buds in circles and occasionally flicking them with his fingernail. You arch your back and moan.

“Ahh… Sy fuck –”

He changes his pace, on one side he pinches and twists while the other he continues to massage and roll and flick. He dips his head down to place kisses to your neck. He switches back and forth over and over, his kisses getting messier as you wiggle against him in ecstasy. He finally sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, the combination of pleasure and pain pushes you over an edge. You reach your hands back and grab onto the back of Sylus’s neck. You can’t catch your breath, his fingers moving at a relentless pace making your nipples tender and swollen. 

“Sylus - ngh - so sensitive ahh…”

He stops suddenly and you sigh, but then he lifts you and stands. He sits you down on the bed and crawls on top of you, you inch backwards on the bed until he grabs your hips to stop you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and you grunt, the bud already overworked. You fist his sweater and tug, you feel the vibration of his laugh against your skin. He releases you for a moment to remove it, his bare chest rests on your stomach. His mouth continues to suck and lick at your nipples, the skin surrounding them and all along the space between. You glance down for just a moment to see your chest littered with marks. You roll your hips and Sylus groans. He hauls himself up and settles his elbows beside your head, his bare chest colliding with yours. 

“You deserve to be worshiped, ravaged, feasted upon…”

He captures your lips with his and kisses you hard, his tongue slipping through your lips in an instant. His warmth seeps through you. You feel like you’re wrapped in a safety blanket. 

“I am more than happy to remind you of that every day, until the end of time if I have to.”

You let out a strangled gasp, a tear slipping down your cheek. He kisses the tear away and presses more gentle kisses all over your face. You know you’ll still have days where you feel self-conscious, but you believe Sylus. He won’t let you forget how precious and desirable you are to him. And you can’t wait to watch him prove it every day, until the end of time.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

[niyafics]

: •̩̩͙ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 ⋆｡°  •̩̩͙ ໋:🦁

chap1 : sweet talk frat!rich!paige bueckers x reader AU

˳ ⋅ ⊹ wc: 5k (*cries*)

˚ ⋅ ⊹ cw: alcohol (barley), swearing, LOWKEY EMO/LONER READER(i love opposites srry), estranged relationship with parents, golden retriever x black cat dynamic, an au things r diff obviously, the frat is made up lolol and not an established relationship either , lotsa building. angst(?), daddy issues(?). only proofread by me lolllll

˳ ⋅ ⊹ abt: after a long night of serving snobs you try to get a drink and a cute, hyper, frat girl home from college bails you out. now she won’t leave you alone.

˚ ⋅ ⊹(a/n): ty if u waited to read this, n srry if it sucks as always lolol. feel free to still use this idea btw!

ANOTHER exhausting night catering to posh assholes, and their colleagues. Some were easier to service. They screwed their face when you walked up, like you’d been interrupting a conversation, before bluntly repeating their orders, barley slow enough for you to hurriedly jot down.

They don’t thank you when you bring the food, they seldom look at you, like eye contact or a smile costs, and leave a fat tip that was probably change in their pocket.

Other times, it’s almost exactly the same. But, in place of the silence that showed they’re ‘better’, men the age of your parents, slipped a disgusting comment about your figure or an aggressively sexual invitation.

This long in the food industry, you were used to it. A forced laugh usually wards them off, and yet, it makes the evening drag. The 10 hours feels like 20. Your social battery is completely fried by the time you make it to your studio. Usually.

Certain nights, the tips stack so good, you have to reward yourself. This night in particular, you made the rest of your rent, and had fifty dollars extra to spend. Why not get a drink? It had been so long since you had alcohol warming your insides and cheeks. Since you had someone decent looking flirt with you face to face.

Your feet are throbbing after your shift, the money in your pocket keeps you motivated to get at least buzzed.

The bar you choose seems new, at least that’s what it’s listed as, nearby your place. Still cheap, but with a pathetic effort at millennial decorating. You wouldn’t see any of the richies you had to deal with at your job here, sucking their teeth at your chipped nail polish and beaten Vans. Throwing your apron in the backseat, you spray perfume to fight the smell of kitchen on you, and shake your hair free of its tie.

A chimes goes off, as you step inside, the place is almost empty. A middle aged couple play pool in a dim corner, and a few other groups or people spread out, leaving plenty room. Outdated music plays that clashes with the theme, so you get a feeling the decoration is just an effort to keep up with the times. You plop down in a stool at the bar with a grunt, sighing in relief, looking at the menu above, even though you were going to order the last drink you remember.

The bartender is a cute ginger, with freckles dotted on her face and down her arms. She glances over a few times with an apologetic smile, while an inebriated old man talks her ear off. You lift your hand to let her know to take her time, fiddling with a jar of toothpicks in front of you.

The bell echos at the front from behind you, and a rush of obnoxious conversation follows.

It was a warm summer night, and the suburban kids of the wealthy were home from school, but they usually drove through, to the overpriced clubs that suited them. You huffed an annoyed breath, taking a glance behind you. Everyone else’s head swiveled with yours. The children of the wound up business men you’d spent hours tolerating.

“This place stinks, like, actually..” One girl whispered. Two guys beside her laugh like hyenas.

“Yeah, good pick, Bueckers..” Another seethed sarcastically in disgust, with a string of chuckles following.

“Not too bad..” A tall blonde with her hair in a neat low bun pushed through and interjected. That must’ve been Bueckers. She turns to the group and gestures towards the pool table the couple had been playing at. You stared her down in her khaki shorts and pressed, short sleeve polo. Her friends dressed in similar preppy fashion. “Pool table’s cool.”

The couple of boys in outfits similar to hers groaned, moving towards it. The older couple was long gone, seemingly taking the group as a cue to leave. You were taking it as the same, still, you lingered. Your fingers dug into the leather of the back of the chair, looking at the lanky, yet toned, woman established as leader. A shorter girl, with brown hair, in an almost blinding white tennis skirt and jacket set, trailed behind, hooking her arm with Bueckers, as they walked over.

You identified her as the one that commented on the smell, she was right, but you still didn’t like her. A feeling bit at you that you pushed off as irritation, swiveling back around with a closed mouth scowl. The fiery haired bartenders’ kind green eyes met you, raising a brow.

“See someone you know?” She asked while drying a shot glass and setting it back on the rack behind the bar.

“No, thank god,” You joked, another whip of air pushing from your lips, relieving tension. “I’ll take a vodka and sprite, please.” She tilts her head knowingly, and begins to concoct it, while you reach into your pocket to pull out a twenty. Her hair whips back around with the drink and you’ve forgotten about the group. As she sets it down, a frown comes on her face at the sight of the bill. You’re raising your brow now.

“I forgot to tell you, card only, sorry…” The bartender bites her lip nervously, pointing to a sign behind her to back her up. Your shoulders slump, already knowing what your bank account looks like. A pang of disappointment stings your chest but you swallow it, and reach for your card anyways. You don’t know why. You already know it’ll decline. The sprite and vodka bubbles infront of you tauntingly.

“Put it on my tab.” A warm voice speaks up, and you feel a figure take the seat beside you, her long legs not fitting under the bar. They bump your thigh ever so slightly, as she swivels in boredom, facing you. Bueckers from earlier had came up to buy the first round. She shoots you a rosy lipped smirk, her blue eyes searching to meet yours for approval. You look down, putting the money back in your pocket instead, not feeding in. Her bottom lip purses out, brows stitching together so slightly, she probably thought you didn’t see it out the corner of your eye.

She slips a luxury brand wallet out her shorts, still looking at you when her slim fingers drag the thick black AmEx card across the granite bar, thick and shiny. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Bueckers, (Paige Bueckers, as the AmEx said) was trying to show off. Her icy orbs don’t leave you. You sip from the stirring straw as the bartender takes the card away. “Thank you.” You finally say after she leaves.

“No problem, doll face,” Her confident smirk is back as she scans over your work clothes. You’re not insecure, you fear that she’s sizing you up. That she can see the coffee stain at the bottom of your department store t-shirt, and feels oh-so sorry for you. You take a secretly angry sip. “What are you doing here all alone?”

You roll your eyes so hard they might fall out, finally lifting to meet her stare with a reserved expression. It doesn’t deter Paige, it makes her chuckle instead, and for a second you can hear a hint of nervousness.

“Okay, stupid question, sorry..” Her head turns back to the bar with a blush spreading into her round cheeks. For a second, you smile too, feeling something you can’t place, for a stranger making a corny move at you. Probably from the cocktail. You shake your head trying to pull yourself out of it.

“It’s fine, I’m just getting a drink after work..” You answer, although you usually wouldn’t. Something about the way she drank you in, her eyes pleading for approval with her metal rectangle of riches. It wasn’t hungry or cold, it was more like ‘please like me’. You exchange names, even though you already knew hers.

The server is back over, looking at Paige expectantly for her order. She gets a round of beers, turning back to you.

“Well, if you’re not too tired, you should come play me in pool,” Paige plucks up her card, and each Corona set infront of her. Two in each hand, between her fingers, then carefully swiveling around and standing. “I’ll buy you another.” She winks.

You hold her gaze and your breath until she walks away. Tipsy from the sips due to low tolerance, you slump back into the seat.

You had gone back to the pool table, even though her friends made your stomach twist. Their judgmental looks phased into the background as you and Paige played, the 3 watching, talking amongst one another. She had a talent of making it seem like you were alone.

Paige ordered another drink for you as promised, but you both barely drank again after your first, focused on the generic pool table. On the interesting stranger in-front of you.

Paige had politely demonstrated. Guiding your arms with her own, both lurched over the table, her hunched over you. She has to explain something an extra time, when her hips bump into you, and you space out. Once you get the hang of it, you’re ahead by two, determined to get the 8ball first.

Paige threw her head back once she misses a hole again for the same ball. You can’t help but explode in giggles, covering half your face with your palm. Catching you anyway, she grins at you, a twinkle in her eye as she squints.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, gorgeous.”

Her group watches you both banter, the short brunette coiling her face at you in the same way she did when the sticky stench of the bar hit her nose. You shoot an apologetic smile, awkwardly, even though you hadn’t done anything to her.

Paige ends up winning, with your head start, that you start to suspect was on purpose. Halfway expecting her to try to take you home, something heavy sets over you near the end of the night, asking if you wanted to leave with her. She was beautiful, seemed kind, and generous. Why not?

To your disappointment, and mostly curiosity, she gives the back of your hand a firm kiss instead, swapping numbers, wishing you a good night. You find yourselves turning to steal one more glance, walking to your cars, hers sleek and black with an engine the yelled as she veered away with her companions.

It started off with a simple ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. You had full intentions of brushing her off after the bar. The two of you had shared a moment, that’s all, nothing would come from someone like that and someone like you.

Paige was persistent. She woke up around 2 when you’re enjoying your last hour of freedom before work, with offers to interrupt her precious rest and take you, pick you up, bring you lunch.

“I have to come in early.”

“I have to stay late.”

“I don’t have a lunch.”

You shot her down, only because you knew she wouldn’t be moved. Secretly, you didn’t want her to know where you worked. The mystery, and push of you was better than the reality, you figured. That you were taking an involuntary gap year from your dream school, you were paying out of pocket for. Refusing to take on too much debt, you saved to return. Friends suggested asking your parents, they weren’t offering, so why ask?

Paige was restless to meet again, you could tell from her invitations sprinkled in every conversation, the past few days. Never could you figure she’d show up to your job though.

You’d been thrilled to leave your shift. It wasn’t bad, it was slow, which is somewhat worse. The dark sports car from a few days ago would have been the farthest thing from your mind, if you didn’t see one so similar to it. Parked right next to your old Honda, in the nearly empty lot.

Your steps slowed and you stared, dumbfounded. The windows were tinted an illegal amount. It’s low rumbling is flicked off and exactly who you figure pops out from inside.

“My dad loves this restaurant.” Paige smiles, like you’re casually meeting here. You nod knowingly.

“Why do you know where I work?” A groan escapes you, trying to speak sternly, your small grin betraying you. The blondes smile stays put, tucking a few of loose curls behind her ear. She waits for you to step closer, to the open car door she’s leaning on with her elbows.

“Yeah, well, my friend said he’d seen you, when he was out to eat not too long ago,” She throws a shrug like the next part is the normal thing that anyone does. “You go to work at 3…they close at 11…I just kind of….” As she spoke it out loud, the pink from a few nights ago returned to her face, heavier now.

“That’s super creepy, you know?” You tease her. If she was anyone else. Heat spreads in your cheeks, shifting the weight on your feet, to distract from it. Still, her ego isn’t bruised.

“You don’t think that,” Said with a chuckle, like she knows it for certain. You’re about to shoot a rebuttal about how she’s basically a stalker. She doesn’t stop speaking. “On your next day off. Let me take you out.” Not said in the form of a question.

“Hm…” You hum, putting your finger to your chin. “I am off tomorrow, but I’m sure you knew that too.” Teasing her again.

“Maybe I do.” She throws her shoulder up with a sly expression. You raise a brow at her that she ignores. “We could go play tennis at the club, or I know a few restaurants. Way stricter dress codes than here, though…Do you have tennis skirts? How about heels? You don’t seem like you’d wear either of those. That’s fine, we can go shopping before we go..” Paige is rambling. Your arms slump in disbelief at how fast she’s talking, having a conversation with herself, almost.

“Or even better, we could make a whole day of the shopping. Then we go to dinner. Forget it, let’s just wait and I’ll get us floor seats to th-“

“Okay, wait!” You stop her before she makes up her mind to fly you out of the state. “This is super overwhelming. I will only go on one condition.”

Paige clings to your every word, finally quiet, her face flushed slightly with embarrassment for over talking.

“It has to be something normal. Something even I can afford.” Paige makes a face at you, like what she named off were tame settings for getting to know someone. You rub your tired face, and walk over to your car, the door creaks when you open it.

“Okay, okay!” She rushes over to you, closing it back, “Something normal. I’ll pick you up, and we can do that.” You tilt your head up at her, both of you soaking each other in for a moment.

“Unless, you’re only capable of lovebombing..” You narrow your eyes at her with a smirk. Paige bursts out laughing.

“It’s not lovebombing, if it doesn’t stop, though.” grinning so hard all her teeth are showing, you don’t realize you are too.

“Right.”

You find yourself dreading Paige seeing your unkept apartment building. At around the time she usually is just waking up, she’s parked outside. Paige doesn’t see you walking up, being too busy with texting you she’s outside for the third time in five minutes.

She has no witty line prepared when you slide into the passenger seat, finally not in your work clothes, or makeup hours old. Her mouth is just gaped open like an idiot, she shuts it, when you give her a weird look.

You smelled like a bakery, in shorts and a crop top to accommodate the weather, with no clue where you were going, only that it’s across town, presumably near where she grew up.

“You look really pretty,” the corner of her lip curls up. It feels awkward, you’re still flustered hearing it. Picking at your nails nervously, while your eyes wandered up her to meet her own pair. She was in denim shorts this time, with a plain T-shirt, white and blue Jordan’s. It looked different from how she dressed at the bar with her friends, you felt less underdressed than you thought you would. “Finally get to see you outside of work.” Paige head turns to you every so often, one hand on the wheel, her elbow leaning against the armrest.

“Thank you, you look good too..” You bite your lip, gazing out the window, as she breaks at a red light. Good was just putting it lightly. Two pieces of her hair braided in the front, the rest straightened past her shoulders. Mascara coated her long lashes, and silver jewelry accented her whole body.

It was real silver and diamonds, you guessed, from the way it glimmered against the light. You stare down her arm taking up most of the rest between you. It reaches down, grabbing your hand, locking fingers automatically. Her thumb rubs the back of your palm.

It’s a park that she pulls into the lot of. A ice cream truck is a few spaces down, with families and small children waiting in line. Paige holds her finger up to you, signaling you to wait there. You don’t question it, unbuckling your seatbelt, agreeing to stay put.

You watch her jog up to the back of the line through the rear view, in front of you the vast greenery, sprinkled with jungle gyms, walking trails, and benches. The park near your apartment had grass high up to your knees, this grass looked like it was trimmed daily.

You’re suddenly anxious to get out the car. Paige comes back, this time holding a coned ice cream and some in a Styrofoam cup with a spoon. She opens your door for you, then hands you the cone.

“Thanks.” You lick a side that was melting, and Paige sticks a spoonful in her mouth beaming, with a nod.

Both of you decide to sit down, and enjoy your frozen dairy in silence for a few minutes. Then you smile and speak.

“Not a fan of cones?” You ask her, taking a long lick. She watches your mouth for a second then gently comes back to reality.

“Too messy.” Paige replies, shaking her head like she’s trying to push a thought away.

“Of course, too messy.” A smile is etched into your face the whole time, barley faltering. Paige gets a feeling you’re teasing her.

“Yeah,” She turns towards you, leaning her elbow on the back of the bench. Another scoop is shoved into her mouth before she dramatically adds. “I only get cones when my butler is here to wipe my mouth, duh.” You shove her shoulder gently, both of you erupting into tiny chuckles.

Small talk drives you crazy, but as you do it with Paige, it warms you up. You even find yourself asking questions. She talks about playing basketball as a kid, all the way to high school. Paige mentions how her dad is essentially a business mogul for a marketing company, and expects her to follow suit. She had been doing well so far, amazing grades, joining the same fraternity, like he wanted her to. Omicron Tau Sigma.

Her apprenticeship at the company her father ran with his fraternity brothers started a week ago, and she didn’t seem worried. As she put it, their less than welcoming children that she was forced to acquaint with and host, was work enough. You figured those were the friends at the bar.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool, and I have my moments where I’m worse.”

“Oh I’m sure..” You mumble between laps.

“Watch it.”

Before you know it, it’s your turn. You skip out on a lot of details, telling her a bit of your childhood, that you’re taking a gap year, and aren’t close to your parents. You didn’t have a pre planned multimillion dollar future, that didn’t have to be said.

“I don’t get you.” It’s so sudden, you don’t know how to respond., and you were used to being caught off guard.

“What’s there to get?” Paige nods, like she figured something out. You stare blankly until she further explains.

“You hate people. Or maybe you just seem that way. Either way, you’re closed off,” more vanilla into her mouth, as you’re starting to bite into the waffle cone. “You live alone, no mention of friends—“

“You’re very observant.” You nod thoughtfully.

“You’re very impossible.” Paige mumbles, finishing off her cup, and tossing it in the trash beside the seat.

“I just like being alone, what’s so special about it?” You look off at someone playing with their dog. “It’s the safest place to be. Depending on yourself, the only person who is reliable.” You cringe. It sounded edgy, yet, it was the truth, and you learned it the hard way.

Paige gives her full attention. Her hand crosses on-top of yours. For the first time, she looks sad for you.

“Safe doesn’t mean lonely. And all people aren’t the same.” A quick curl of her lip, lifts and falls from her face. You think about giving her a tough time. Shutting her down. Pushing those thoughts away, you quietly think about what she said, instead. She starts to talk again.

“You can, like…come over. Only if you want…. My place is right on the water.” Paige avoids your eyes, bracing your answer, a coolness to her voice that she seemingly flipped at will.

“Perfect place to throw my remains.” You roll your eyes at her, she wraps a arm around you suddenly, pulling you in.

“Good point.” She huffs, sarcastically, with a stupid grin, resting her chin on the top of your head. You jab her playfully.

You knew exactly the neighborhood she was talking about. With all the mini mansions, and huge pillars near the front doors, turned away from a private lakeshore. You passed it a few times. Your heart thumped thinking about being inside one. One where surely someone from her family would be.

Her rounded puppy eyes, and the look of willingness to follow you everywhere, had you agreeing before you truly scaled out the situation.

The driveway is so long you figured it burns gas just to drive up it. Big to match the massive house sitting beside it. Even her house stood out amongst others, there wasn’t anything traditional or welcoming about it. It was modern and cold, like a display home you didn’t want to mess up.

Paige snaps you out of your daze with the opening of your side. She takes your hand and guides you to the solid white doors. There’s a pin-pad above the silver knob that her fingers type so fast, you’re not sure exactly which number she’s pressing.

You’re staring wide eyed all around, anxiety making your heart drum in your ears. She hasn’t noticed the clamminess in your palm yet, thoughts of pulling it away before you faced whoever was inside stormed your mind. Walking in as friends already raises questions, you could only imagine the drilling questions reserved for Paiges’ partners.

Before you can make up your mind, she’s practically dragging you inside. Paige tosses her socks and shoes, you follow after her. The dark wood is warm under your feet. Heated floors. The interior design is just as minimalist as the outside. A few family portraits, and pictures of Paige at all ages, are blown up larger than you thought they could be, nestled on walls.

One wall, of the living room you get pulled through, to get outside, holds shelves of memorabilia. Framed jackets, paddles, shirts, brooches, several pictures of people in the same colors, trophies all consistent with a theme of gold and navy blue. A golden lion, with luscious mane, in the middle of every piece. You want to slow down and look, maybe even ask questions. You decide to ask when the time is right, considering how annoyed she’d been with explaining it earlier on the bench.

The glass slides open with a whoosh of air. Of course the backyard has been tended to, with lush grass, and intricate stone arrangements around the base of trees. Vibrant flowers are planted in rows around the balcony, between two trees, near the wooden stairs leading to the pier, there’s a hammock, chairs sprawled out nearby.

Walking briskly down the steps, Paige clasps your fingers with her own, guiding you down. She sits with a soft exhale making small waves with her feet in the water. You’re still mesmerized at seeing a lake so clear. You’d never leave this pier if you were her, you tell Paige. She responds with a dry, closed mouth laugh.

“You can have it. And everything that comes with it..” She looks down into the water, or her reflection, you can’t tell. Your eyes don’t leave her, when you sit down on the worn wood. Half your foot is in, and it’s warm, so you drop the other. Her thigh is flush with yours.

“Not having fun in the castle, princess?” You kick the water lightly, sucking in the fresh air deeply. She rests her head on your shoulder, suddenly, making you perk.

“Not really.”

A snarky remark is at the tip of your tongue, so you bite it. How could having everything handed to you, make you sulk in private? You thought, looking at a few fish swimming just below your toes.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“No you don’t.” You reply quickly, thinking about something else instead just in case.

“Yeah, I do,” Her head lifts up to look at you. There’s a slight hurt behind it.

“Shut up,” You sigh, gently pulling the weight of her head back onto you. “It must be…hard to keep up with.” That’s the only way you can put it, to try and soothe her.

“No, it’s not,” She admits, the sun beating down on the both of you through the leaves of trees overhead. “It’s not like working 40 hours a week, and still barely making it, I know.” Your arm wraps around her.

“Your dad graduated from my dream school,” It blurts out of you like vomit. It was drumming in your mind when you saw a diploma with the signature seal to it, framed alongside the other accomplishments. The words don’t stop. “I’m struggling because, yes the pay sucks, and because I’m saving to go back.” You’re almost gritting your teeth at the confessions. Paige pulls away and you let her.

“Damn. Dream school?….Really?” A silence sets over, you not replying. Paige gets up, standing beside you, wet feet dragging water next to you. She holds her hand out, you look up at her for a moment, her hair reflecting to look gold and white. You finally take it, her pulling you to your feet, and slowly up the steps this time around.

Once you reach the grassy yard, Paige stops dead in her tracks, like a deer, barley breathing out. Your feet start to dry in the blades of grass, by the time Paige speaks. Well, whispers.

“Shit, they’re here..” She’s mumbles under her breath. You’re about to ask who but the hearty laugh of a group of older men comes from the living room. “I forgot that was tonight..” Paige pulls the both of you to the side of the house, by the drive way, your legs barely keep up without a jog. Her fingers tap the pin to a room that’s used for coats, shoes, bags, all amounting to the cost of a small house. Theres three steps up to a black door that Paige opens so slowly, it looks like it pains her. You squeeze her wrist, stopping her.

“What?” She whispers.

“Who are we running from?” You whisper back.

Paige doesn’t respond, letting you hear the chatter of now voices young and old. Then she raises a brow at you, her only answer, twisting back towards the entrance.

“Because of me?” Your voice cracks as you ask. Paige turns around sharply, taking your face in her hands, brows furrowed in seriousness, foreheads nearly pressed together.

“Never. Because. Of you.” Her hushed, stern, tone makes a feeling you don’t recognize in your stomach, flip the desert inside it. “Okay?” This part is soft, and so is her expression. You nod slowly, as if in a trance, not wanting her mouth to move away from yours.

Having to fight back the urge to clash lips, Paige quietly steers you into the kitchen, the door closing behind you with a click.

Her slim shoulders drop, like you’re finally safe, bare sets of damp feet padding to the refrigerator. It’s roomy, and untouched, with the same dark flooring from the living room, where deep voices still laugh and discuss amongst each other loudly. The marble island sits in the middle, between the stove and fridge. A TV is installed outside of the door she digs two seltzers out of.

She gestures for you to follow her. You’re frozen still. Eyes bulging out your skull, social anxiety causing a tremble through you, at the sight of the small group crowding in. It was the other three, one guy shorter, with a mullet, the other taller, skinner than Paige, and of course, the brunette. An evil smirk stretches across her lip fillers, letting you know nothing good will come from this interaction.

It wasn’t them you’d been worried about though, it was the man towering behind Paige, his arms crossed, features scrunched in a frown, similar to Paige’s own. Mr. Bueckers, it has to be.

The way she jumps, when she swivels away from you, makes you think she’s going to drop the cans, instead, she squeezes them until they dent on the sides.

“So nice of you to join us, Paige. With company too?” He lets out a low, unimpressed, whistle.

🦁chapter 2

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 16-Step-Sibling Incest-Chrollo/Reader/Hisoka/Illumi

Notes:

ok soooo, we’re finishing up Kinktober with a bang! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) anyway, this one is gonna be kind of hard to write but im starting it a bit early cause i have a lot of free time today! Btw this shits ooc as hell but idgaf. It's also looooooong, like over 8k words loooooong. Anyway, enjoy

Title is from ‘The Boys’ by Girls Generation

btw art is from pinterest, if its ur dm me and ill credit u<3

....

You find out your mother remarried when her postcard arrives in the mail. It's a short note, and starts out by telling you that she's on vacation in Bali. She goes on in detail about all the cool things she's doing, and you just shake your head, very used to your mothers forgetful attitude. And then, at the end in a little throwaway sentence, she mentions that she got remarried. 

‘He's a lovely man. And he's got three boys, Name dear. Try to get along with them, and don't cause trouble!’ 

You shake your head, annoyed at the entire note. She tells you not to cause trouble? As if you would, you don't care enough about your mother to bother being upset about the news. But she could have at least invited you to the wedding. She probably forgot about you, her only daughter. It sounds insane, and impossible, but you're very used to your mother forgetting about you entirely. You didn't mind anymore. She pays for anything you need, and your life is comfortable, if not happy. But you could live with that. 

You stare at the postcard for a minute, taking in the colorful flowers and ocean on the front. The bright colors hurt your eyes a bit. But brothers! You couldn't believe it. You had lived your entire life an only child, and now that was about to change. You felt a bit of tentative excitement fill your heart, lifting your moon and painting a smile across your face. You smiled, pinning the stupid postcard to the fridge. It stood out, the only thing on the entire front of the fridge. 

Things are about to change. For better or worse, you don't know. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It's lunch break the next day. You're sitting at your usual lunch table, telling your friend about the postcard, the sun shining down on the uniformed students sitting around in the courtyard of your expensive private school. A brisk breeze whistles through the air, rustling your knee length skirt. You shiver, grabbing your uniform jacket from where you had discarded it, and pulling it back on. Your friend Evelyne, sitting across from you and picking at her sandwich, rolls her eyes.

“Your mom sucks, Name.” She says, popping a green grape into her mouth. You smile.

“Oh, she's not that bad, Evie.” You say, feeling the need to defend your mom, even though she doesn't deserve it. Evie rolls her eyes, pulling at the sleeve of her gray sweater. The school forbids any clothing items aside from uniforms of course, and a jacket or sweater over your white button up. Evie had decorated her sweater with pins and patches, adding a slight bit of uniqueness to the sea of girls wearing similar uniforms. You were too lazy, just wearing the normal dark navy uniforms. Evie was so cool in your opinion. She even dared to dye her hair a brilliant orange red color, which was against the rules. But apparently the school was too busy checking that all the girls' skirts were the correct length, that they missed Evie’s bright hair. Or maybe they didn't care. Evie’s father donated to the school a lot, after all. Evie pulls at her hair, fluffing her bob around her face. 

“Seriously though Name, that was so uncool of your mom. First she doesn't invite you to the wedding, and now just dropping three step siblings on you?” Evie says, her voice echoing in the courtyard a little too loudly. You look around anxiously, but no one cares. The brisk breeze blows some leaves off the large tree over your heads, and you watch them tumble down to the ground.

“I mean it's not too bad, right?” You ask, stealing one of her grapes. “I really don't know anything about them, they could be nice!”

“Sure,” Evie says, taking a large bite of her sandwich. “That was still a dick move, though.”

“Maybe,” You giggle, popping another grape in your mouth. “They might—”

Someone clears their throat right behind you. Startling, drop your third grape, and turn around. There's a boy standing behind you. Looming over you and Evie and the table, with long straight hair tumbling down his back. He's wearing the male version of the uniform, without the jacket. You raise an eyebrow.

“Um, can I help you?” You ask. You hadn't heard anyone come up behind you. The boy doesn't say anything, simply looking you up and down with no expression on his face. He has big eyes, like a porcelain doll in the window of a shop. His skin is pale, his lashes long, his mouth a pale pink. He's quite handsome. And then he opens his mouth.

“I am disappointed,” He says, voice even and cold. There is barely any inflection there at all, but his eyebrows furrow slightly as he looks at you. You frown.

“Uh, what?” You ask, confused. It seems like he’s insulting you, but you can't quite tell because you don't even know who this guy is, what the hell he's talking about, or why he's talking to you in the first place. Evie frowns, opening her mouth. You shake your head at her.

“You know, when people usually meet each other for the first time, it's polite to introduce yourself.” You say, trying to smile through the confusion and slight annoyance. The boy tilts his head, hair waterfalling down his back. You're kind of jealous of it, it looks so smooth and straight. 

“I am Illumi.” The boy says after a moment. And then, before you can spack, he continues. “Father informed us that we are to live with you from now on. I am disappointed.”

The pieces start falling together, the puzzle solving itself in an instant in your mind. Your mouth drops open, a chill running through your body. 

“You're one of my new step siblings?” You ask, jumping to your feet in shock. Illumi nods, frowning slightly at your sudden movement. He's very tall, looming over you even when you're standing right in front of him. You offer a hand, trying to smile. He's been quite rude, but you still give him a few chances to make it up. After all, he has a right to be upset about this situation, after all. His father had just gotten married, just like your mother. You wonder if he was invited to the wedding. 

Illumi stares down at your hand, frowning like it's personally offended him somehow. Finally, after your smile starts to waver, he takes it, giving you a quick handshake. 

“It's nice to meet you.” You say, really trying to mean it. Illumi nods. He doesn't talk much, just stands there before you, staring deep into your eyes with his big, black soulless ones. 

“You are very normal.” Illumi says, looking you up and down again. You raise an eyebrow, trying to figure out if that's a compliment or an insult.

“Is that good or bad?” You ask. You can hear Evie grinding her teeth behind you, like an angry guard dog. Illumi tilts his head to the side, tapping his chin. He moves a bit like a robot, slow, calculated, and cold. 

“Simply an observation,” He says, straightening his head. His hair flows distractingly around him. You don't know how to feel.

“Oh,” You say, forcing a customer service smile. “You look like a porcelain doll.”

Evie chokes on a laugh. You know she's rolling her eyes behind you. Illumi’s brow furrows, his black eyes slipping from your own for a moment, to look behind you. 

“Your friend is quite loud.” He says, looking back at you like you should deal with it. You raise an eyebrow. This guy is really weird.

“I guess?” You say, running a hand through your hair. “She sounds normal to me.”

Illumi frowns, standing still and straight like a robot. 

“The two of you are similar in your normality,” He says. “I shall inform father that I am disappointed in his choice of family.”

He turns, walking away briskly, his hair swinging behind him. You strain your ears, listening for the footsteps that are supposed to be there. You hear none. 

“Well, he's just lovely, huh.” Evie says, popping a grape into her mouth. You sit down again, taking a bite of your own food.

“He's quite odd,” You say, taking a sip of your soda. “Reminds me of a robot. Or a haunted doll.”

Evie chuckles, tossing her half eaten sandwich in the trash can with a thump. She grabs one of your apple slices, taking a bite. You steal a grape in retaliation, even though you’ve already eaten half of them. You make a mental note to grab some grapes at the grocery store later. 

“Well name,” Evie says, tossing the rest of her trash as the bell signaling the end of lunch echoes through the air. “I hope you're excited to meet the rest of your step-siblings.”

“I don't know, I guess I am a little bit.” You say, tossing your trash as you and Evie start towards your English class. “They can't be weirder than Illumi, right?”

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You might have to eat your words, you think to yourself as you stand in the front entrance of your large house, staring at the three boys across from you. It's been about two weeks since your first meeting with Illumi, and your mother and her new husband had just arrived back from their vacation. It seems the boys had not been invited. You feel a bit vindictively happy about that. Your mother and her new husband barely spared you a few drive by greetings before they vanished into the house with their bags. Leaving you and your three new step brothers in the front entrance. You break the silence, offering your hand with a smile. 

“Im Name,” You say, voice echoing in the front entrance. The room stills for a moment, and then the tallest one darts into action. He moves forward, gripping your hand in his cold, pale hands, and shaking it firmly. 

“How lovely it is to meet you, Name.” He says, smiling. His yellow eyes dart up and down your body, zeroing in on your uniform, and then your eyes. He runs a hand through his bright red hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It falls back immediately, obscuring his eyes slightly as he speaks.

“Having such a pretty sister is so exciting.” He says, pointed canines flashing in the light. You flush. 

“Hisoka,” One of the other boys says, voice a warning. “Stop it.”

The red haired boy, Hisoka, simply smirks wider, slowly bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the top. You flush, yanking your hand away from his plush lips. He tilts his head, pouting like a wounded puppy. The black shirt he's wearing stretches over the muscles of his chest and arms. He's really hot. So are all of them actually. You wince internally. These boys are going to be your step brothers, you aren't allowed to lust after them, no matter how attractive they are. 

“It's nice to meet you,” You say, forcing down your blush. Hisoka's smile returns to his face. It looks practiced, rehearsed, fake. This one is dangerous. 

“I'm the oldest, you see. Chrollo, the frowny one with the bangs,” he gestures backwards at the boy in question, who simply sighs as Hisoka continues, “Is the middle child. And the one on the end is the youngest.”

“Illumi and i met already actually.” You interject, frowning slightly. Hisoka raises a single eyebrow. 

“Oh dear, I hope he wasn't too rude.” He says, smiling apologetically. You resist the urge to tattle, and brush your hair over your shoulders. You're wearing simple clothes, some jeans and a nice blouse. Your mother had texted you before they had arrived, asking you not to ‘embarrass her’. 

“Oh, he was fine.” You say quietly, ignoring the way Illumi stares into your soul. “We go to the same school. Do you guys go there too?”

Hisoka chuckles, looming over you a bit. His stare edges towards predatory sometimes. 

“Oh no dear, I graduated a couple years ago.” He laughs, arm flexing as he pats you gently on the shoulder. 

“Oh,” You say, ignoring the lingering hand on your shoulder. He's very physical. “Would you guys like a tour of the house?”

“That would be lovely!” Hisoka exclaims, spinning you around bodily and gripping your waist. “You're very sweet, darling.”

You smile, ducking away from the hand clutching your waist. It's better for your own sanity. The other boys trail behind you as you exit the main entrance way. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Adjusting to the new living situation isn't as bad as you thought it would be. Your mother and her new husband don't hang around the house often, and even if they do, they usually stay secluded to their wing of the house. Hisoka often isn't at the house for long stretches of time, or comes back quite late at night. It's too bad, he's the most friendly of his brothers. Illumi is home almost twenty-four seven, leaving only for school and the occasional odd errand. Chrollo vanishes, you don't know where he goes. But he's probably still at the house. You think. 

It's been a few weeks since you were first introduced to them, but your life hasn't really changed all that much. The two younger boys aren't very friendly or inviting, and you haven't had the chance to talk to them as much as you’d like. It would be nice if you could get to know them a bit better. So that's what you're doing now. 

Illumi is probably in his room. He usually goes straight to his room after school, and shuts the door behind him with a slam. All of the bedrooms are in the same hallway, two on each side. Your parents bedroom is in their wing of the house, of course.

You walk up the stairs, steeling yourself for a hard fight. Illumi is a weirdo who can't really carry a conversation well and doesnt want to talk to you, but you're determined to try to be friends with him. Or at least, civil. You even have a plan. Ask for help with homework, and then the two of you could be study buddies. You were in the same grade, which meant you had the same classes. It was a perfect plan! Well, maybe not perfect, but pretty good. 

The hallway is dark. You switch on the light with a click, illuminating the metal plates on each door. Your room is next to Illumi’s. Hisoka and Chrollo’s rooms are on the other side. No light shows from under their doors. They're probably out. Illumi’s room has cold bright light leaking into the hallway, however. You dip into your room to change out of your school uniform. Slinging on a tank top and a pair of sweatpants, you grab your study materials and walk a few feet down the hall. Raising your hand, you knock tentatively on Illumi’s door. 

“Hey Illumi? It's me, can I come in?” You ask through the door. It's quiet, and for a moment you wonder if he's actually not in. and then he speaks.

“Yes.” He says, quietly, just barely audible through the thick wood of the door. You take a deep breath, steel yourself and open the door.

You step through, cold feet meeting a blue carpet, and close the door behind you. Illumi looks up, staring at you with wide, confused eyes. He’s sitting on the floor with his study materials spread neatly on a low table. You smile.

“Can I study with you?” You ask, hiding your shaking hands behind your back. Illumi blinks for a moment, as if mentally calculating whether or not it's a good idea. Finally, he nods.

“I don't see why not.” He says, looking back to his own study materials. You smile.

“Thanks,” You say, moving into the room and bending down to place your study materials out. Illumi makes an odd noise, like a choke and a cough at the same time. You look up, worried. His face is a little flushed.

“You ok?” You ask, sitting down across from him at the low table. Illumi nods.

“I am fine.” He says, eyes wandering from you to your work to the wall behind you. You shrug, turning to your study materials. The room sinks into silence, broken by the occasional turning of pages and the scratching of pencil on paper. Finally, when you think he's adjusted to your presence enough, you speak.

“Hey Illumi, what did you mean when you said I was normal?” 

Illumi looks up from his work, eyes darting past your chest a little slowly and focusing on your eyes. He tilts his head in confusion. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” He says, as if it's obvious. You frown.

“But what does it mean?” You try again, “Like that im ugly?”

“You are not ugly.” Illumi says, voice sounding a bit weird. You flush.

“Oh, thanks.” You say, scratching your chain awkwardly. “Is it that I'm boring?”

Illumi stares at you long and hard, barely blinking. It seems like he's trying to figure out why you're upset. It reminds you of a robot, updating its programming as it tries to figure out what the weird human is upset about. Finally, he shakes his head.

“The words I used were inappropriate. I apologize.” Illumi offers, face still blank. “I simply met you were not the tyrant your mother portrayed you as.”

You frown. You've heard those words before, the insults aren't uncommon from your mother. But it still hurts. Your chest aches as you force a smile.

“Oh, really?” You say, forcing a fake laugh. “What did she say?”

Illumi frowns slightly, watching your face closely. He seems to be scanning for any change, any hint that you're upset. But your poker face is flawless, you've had a lot of practice. Finally, he opens his mouth.

“You were a spoiled brat who would throw a tantrum at a moment's notice.” He says, placing his pencil down on the table. “I was informed you went to my school, so I decided to meet you. You were not like I had been told, and I simply expressed it poorly.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You know your mother doesn't like you that much, or at least never wanted children, but is this what she thought of you? You feel like you're going to cry. You don't want to, you can't cry in front of Illumi. But against your will you feel tear after tear roll down your face. Illumi looks almost helpless as you cry, whipping it away with the back of your hand. 

“Are you sad?” Illumi asks, frowning. He looks like he doesn't know what to do.

“Yes, Illumi.” You sob, tears rolling faster and faster down your face. “I'm crying. Have you never seen a girl cry?”

Illumi shakes his head, hand hanging awkwardly in the air between you. He clenches his fingers a few times, then lets it drop down. 

“I don't really talk to girls.” Illumi says, staring in confusion as the tears roll down your cheeks. He looks almost adorable in his helplessness. Your shoulders shake as you cry, big fat tears rolling down your face and hitting the fabric of your tank top, soaking the blue fabric a darker blue. Illumi stares, awkwardly shuffling his pencil around in front of him. Finally, you give up.

“You're supposed to comfort crying girls.” You whimper, wiping the tears away as fast as they come. 

“Comfort?” Illumi asks, tilting his head. You nod.

“Just give me a hug, Illumi.” You cry, crawling around the table towards him. Illumi sits there awkwardly as you throw yourself against his black covered chest. You cry into the turtleneck he's wearing, muffling your sobs into his chest. Illumi sits straight up, hands hovering awkwardly above your body until finally, when you crawl fully onto his lap, he settles them on your back. His hands are big, and warm. Finally, the tears start to subside. 

You snuggle into his neck and shoulder, warm and snug against his surprisingly hot body. In both temperature and stature, actually. He has broad shoulders, and strong arms through the thick black fabric of the turtleneck. You giggle, drawing circles on his shoulders as you wipe the last tears away. 

“Thanks for giving me a hug.” You sigh, still burrowing into his warm body. Illumi coughs, the sound loud in the relative silence of the house. 

“I apologize if it was a poor hug. I was never taught to give one.” He says, voice rumbling out from his chest. You giggle, shifting on his lap.

“What are you talking about, silly. No one gets taught how to hug.” You say, running your hand through strands of his long, silky hair. Illumi coughs, clearing his throat as you shift on his lap again. The room sinks into comfortable silence for a moment. 

“What, have you never hugged a girl before?” You laugh, moving again. Illumi makes a choked little sound in his throat, and shakes his head.

“I told you, I don't really talk to girls.” He says, his voice sounding a bit strained. You frown, pulling away from his chest to look him directly in the face. A faint flush has painted itself across his cheeks. 

“Hey, are you alright? You sound weird.” You say, bringing a hand up and pressing it against his forehead. You shift on his lap a bit as you bring your other hand up, touching your own forehead. He doesn't have a fever, at least.

“I am fine.” Illumi nods. His cheeks are still just the palest petal pink, but his ears have started burning pure red among the strands of  black hair. You're kind of alarmed. You dont think you’ve ever seen a hint of pink on his face, and now you see so much. You shift slightly as Illumi’s hands fall, grabbing your waist tightly.

“You should get off.” He says, voice warbling slightly. You frown, trying to ignore how butterflies rise in your stomach as his hands clench around your waist. 

“Wait, why?” You ask, grabbing his shoulders as you slip slightly, pulling yourself close against him. “I was enjo—”

You stop suddenly as you feel something under your thigh. Illumi looks away, body tensing as you move experimentally, pressing against the thing. It jumps against you. Illumi chokes.

“Are you hard?” You ask, voice loud in the silence. Illumi winces slightly.

“No.” He says, pulling his head back until his hair partially obscures his face. You shift experimentally and are rewarded with his hands clenching down on your waist. 

“Illumi you literally are.” You say, biting back a smile. Illumi doesn't say anything. Now you know you should be disgusted. He's your step-brother, after all. But, you can't quite bring yourself to pull away and run to your room. So instead you slide down his thighs, slowly crawling backwards on the floor until you're sitting a few feet in front of Illumi. His face looks dreadfully blank, like he expects you to slap him. Your eyes trace down his figure, taking in his broad shoulders and trim waist, and the bulge in his pants. You really wanna fuck him. But somehow, that seems like too much. Like it's a line you can't cross as step siblings, so you'll settle for this. Reaching your hand out slowly, carefully, you bring it down, stroking him over his pants. 

The effect is instantaneous. Illumi’s back straightens, his body tensing as a small groan leaks out from between his clenched lips. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Illumi asks, obviously trying to keep his tone even as you stroke him.

“Thanking you.” You smile, pulling the belt of his sweatpants down. There's a small wet patch on his gray underwear, near the tip. You grin, licking your lips, and pressing your hand against him. Illumi whimpers, and quickly bites the rest of the sound back. You wish he would let all of his sounds out, but you doubt he will. And so you pull him out of his boxers, stroking him gently in your hand. Illumi bites his lips, eyes falling closed as you stroke him. He looks so pretty like this. Back straight and stiff, hair pooling around his shoulders and hitting the ground, cheeks flushed cherry blossom pink. You grin, mouth watering, and bend down. 

“Wait, Name.” Illumi protests, his voice slightly hoarse. You pause, looking up at him from your position on the floor. His black eyes are filled with swirling lust and something else you can't quite place. 

“Yeah?” You ask, letting a big glob of spit fall from your lips and plop onto Illumis dick. It twitches and Illumis shoulders twitch with it. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyes locked on your own. You smile.

“I'm gonna give you a blowjob.” You say, and then start taking him into your mouth. He was clearly going to say more things, probably useless things that you don't want to hear, but they dissolve in his throat as you take him as far as you can, using your hand on the parts you can't reach. You make sure to use your hand on the parts you can't quite reach. Illumi groans again, as one hand clenches in the fabric of the carpet, and the other grabs your hair. You humm around him, pulling up and down, doing your best to drive him mad. It must be working, too, because tiny huffs and groans have started to leak out, even though he must be doing his best to hold them back. You can feel him twitching in your throat, probably close to cumming. 

You smile around him, pressing a kidd to the tip before eating him down your throat again. Illumi groans, hand yanking your hair a bit as he does.

“Wait name im—”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before something warm and sticky is flowing down your throat. You do your best to swallow it all before you pull off him, licking your lips. And then you realize what you just did. Illumi looks out of it, his black eyes hazy and confused, his cheeks still flushed. His dick is lying on the hem of his pants, tracking spit and cum on them. He looks very pretty. And then it just hits you what you’ve done. You gave your step brother a blowjob. You jump to your feet, trying to fix your hair. Illumi startles, shoving himself back into his underwear and pulling up his pants. Finally, when the room sinks into silence, you speak.

“Don't tell anyone.” You say, whipping a spot of cum off your boobs. Illumis eyes jump there, and then back to your own. You wait for him to agree, then flee to your room in embarrassment. What the hell have you done. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So maybe your plan to get to know your step brother didn't exactly go as you had thought. But you were still determined to get to know them. Without the blowjob part, obviously. You sigh, turning a page in your book as you stare into space. The library was your favorite part of your house. The smell of books and lavender filled your nostrils and helped you calm down. The light was golden, pouring over the little seating area you’ve found yourself in. It was a perfect place to read. 

Too bad you're not actually reading, just trying to forget the Blowjob Incident™ from two days ago. You sigh, remembering it again and shifting your legs. You hate to admit how much it kinda turns you on. How you just wanna go back and demand that Illumi eat you out. You sigh, crossing your legs again, and closing your book with a slam. Well, the book was boring anyway. 

Your socked feet make barely a noise on the hardwood floors as you move back into the tall bookshelves that rise to the sky. Well, the ceiling. The bookshelves aren't that tall but they still feel tall. You slip the book away, and then move down the narrow hallways of books running your hand along their spines. Maybe a smut book will make you a little less pent up. Or more, but you could at least blame it on the book then, and not the Blowjob Incident™. 

The smut section of the library was there when you and your mom moved in. Actually, most of the books were. It makes sense because the house has been in your family for generations. You chose not to think too hard about which of your dead relatives had picked out the smut books. You had already read all of them, but you scanned the shelf for one of the better ones. 

Finally you spot one, the familiar gold and red cover sitting teasingly out of reach on the top shelf. You stand on your tippy toes, and reach up as high as you can, your fingertips just brushing the bottom. You brace your hand against one of the lower shelves and strain as high as you can. Someone chuckles behind you. And then a warm body comes up behind you, reaching just the last few inches to grab the book from the shelf and recede. You spin, and take in Chrollo, standing in front of you with the book outstretched.

“Here you go,” He says, offering you the book. You take it quickly, holding it against your chest as you flush.

“Thanks,” You say, hiding the title of the book as best you can. Better to be safe than sorry. Chrollo smiles slightly, folding his arms across his chest. He's wearing a fluffy looking sweater. You clear your throat, still standing with your back against the smut books. 

“Are you enjoying the library?” You ask, in a hurry to change the subject, so he doesnt start asking questions about your book.

“Yes it's quite extensive.” Chrollo says, brushing a hand through his hair. “I myself have been enjoying the philosophy and nonfiction sections.”

“Oh,” You say, smiling slightly. “Those sections are pretty good, the nonfiction section especially has some pretty interesting and rare books. ”

“You seem to know this library pretty well.” Chrollo says, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “I assume you’ve read most of the collection?”

“Yep, almost all of it.” You say, smiling excitedly. “I haven't quite got through the cookbook section.”

You love the library. It's such a lovely place to escape too. And besides, your mother never comes in here. She says it's too dusty, even though the maids do a wonderful job of cleaning the entire house. You sigh, leaning back against the bookcase. Chrollo frowns.

“You seem upset about something.” He says, moving a few steps closer. You sigh. Your mothers words still sit a bit heavy in your heart, but you're more used to her cruelty than you should be. It's embarrassing that you're actually more upset about the Blowjob Incident™. But you definitely can't tell Chrollo that. So your mother is getting thrown under the bus. Besides, you're kind of curious to hear what they were told about you.

“What where…” You say, clearing your throat, and trying again. “Well I mean, how much did you guys know about me before you moved in.”

Silence falls for a moment as Chrollo considers you, taking in your body, clothes up a turtleneck, pleated skirt and socks, your face as you avoid his eyes. Then he speaks.

“Oh, not much. At least I wasn't told anything.” Chrollo says almost soothingly, moving forward to pat you gently on the arm as he continues. “I know father told Illumi a bit more.”

You frown, tilting your head. 

“Why not you?” You ask, looking up at him. Chrollo stifles a smile.

“Oh, Father and I don't get along.” He rubs your shoulder reassuringly, and you shiver as his warm hand leaves you. “Illumi listens to him. Hisoka and I do not.”

“Oh,” You say, shoving down your confusion and the urge to pry. “Well, did you know anything?”

“Your age and gender.” Chrollo says, patting you on the head with a chuckle. “Is that what you were upset about? Don't you worry, We all had a favorable impression of you the moment we saw you.”

You frown, brow furrowing in confusion as Chrollo steers both of you out of the seas of bookshelves and back into the rest area. You spot a book resting open on the couch, a mug of something warm on the table. Steam spirals into the air, and you sit down on the other end of the couch, watching Chrollo as he picks up the book, sitting neatly in the middle. You sigh, brushing your hair out from behind you and leaning back, closing your eyes. The sounds of page turning fills the air, broken only by Chrollo’s slow, even, breathing. 

You open your own book, too embarrassed to change books now. What would you say if he asked why you were exchanging your book? ‘Oops, I grabbed a smut book because I was feeling horny after I gave your brother a blowjob, and I'm too embarrassed to read it in front of you.’ Hello no. Besides, Chrollo isn't paying attention to you, and you’ve already read this book a thousand times. The smut won't turn you on as it once had, you're sure. 

You were wrong. Maybe it's something about the fact that chrollo is sitting a few inches away, turning the pages of his own book calmly, or maybe you were just that horny, but you're barely into the smut scene when your pussy starts throbbing. You shuffle on the couch, crossing your legs and clenching your thighs together. You shiver at the little burst of pleasure that gave you and continue reading, body tight and tense. You're barely digesting the words on the page, far too busy being distracted by the warm body a few inches away from you. Chrollo is much more interesting than the stupid smut book anyway. 

You look at him out of the corner of your eyes. His hair falls gently, angled down towards the book in his lap. It's some philosophy book, you don't care enough to try to make out the tiny text at the top of the page. Chrollo's skin is pale, sharp against the black of his hair. It's a close shade to the cream white of his sweater. You want to reach out and brush his hair out of his eyes, then beg him to kiss you senseless. 

You curse the universe for giving you such hot men who were so close in age to you and lived with you, and then making them your step siblings. So out of reach. You ignore the looming memories of the Blowjob Incident™, and turn a page, trying to focus on the smut scene. But words on a page cannot distract you from the subtle scent of Chrollo's cologne, floating in the air between you. You shift uncomfortably on the couch as your pussy floods with heat, your body begging to be touched. 

You're crossing your legs again when Chrollo speaks.

“You seem a bit restless.” He says, pausing before the last word. You slam your book shut, not even bothering to put a bookmark in it. Your face must be flushed, you know.

“I guess.” You say, clearing your throat. You swear you can hear your arousal in your voice, smell it in the air. The room sinks into silence as Chrollo puts a bookmark in his book, setting it down on the table with a soft thump. You clutch yours in your lap, kind of thankful for a hard thing to clutch. Not like that. Chrollo smiles at you softly, his gray eyes glowing slightly in the lowlight.

“Bad book?” He asks, gesturing towards the book in your lap with a nod. You squeak, shrugging. 

“Uh, it's fine!” You say, putting it on your other side. You feel like a rubber band pulled tight, about to snap. Chrollo seems to be moving closer. 

“I'm impressed,” Chrollo chuckles, scooting closer to you along the couch. 

“What?” You say, heart pounding double time as his gray eyes move closer and closer. You scoot backwards until you're sitting with your back pressed against the arm. The book slides off the couch, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. Chrollo chuckles, stopping a few feet away from your knees. 

“It's quite bold to read a smut book an inch away from your step brother.” Chrollo says simply, a small smile marking his pale lips. Your mouth drops open.

“How did you know?” You ask, voice a little to breathless for you liking. A flush is working its way up your chest and neck, and overtaking your face. Your traitorous pussy drools arousal on your panties. Chrollo chuckles.

“I memorized the Library layout.” He says, smoothing a hand over your sock covered calf. “I'm sure you did as well.”

You’ve had it memorized since you were a child. But you're very distracted right now by his warm hand as it moves slightly higher on your raised legs, now brushing past your knee. You bite back a whimper, not daring to make a noise as his hand travels higher and higher. Chrollo chuckles.

“We certainly aren't the best step siblings, aren't we?” He says, hand stroking up and down your thigh, tips of his fingers barely brushing the edges of your pleated skirt. His fingers feel hot against your bare skin. You slap your hand over your mouth, and Chrollo smirks. 

“What are they going to say?” You whimper through your hand as Chrollo gently grips both your thighs, urging them apart. Chrollo chuckles, tugging down your panties, the last sticky barrier between him and your telling wetness. 

“Who, our parents?” he asks, voice still so soft in the large silence of the caverness library. “They're never here. How could they know?”

 You guess he's right, you think to yourself as he presses a delicate little kiss to your clit. How could they know, when neither of them pay attention to you. To any of their children, it seems. Your back arches against the couch, hands reaching down to tangle in Chrollo's black hair.

Chrollo eats pussy like a man starved. He eats you out like you're an oasis in a dry desert and he hasn't had a sip of water in years. He buries his head between your thighs, gripping your hips tightly as he licks and sucks you closer and closer to orgasm. You feel like you're losing your mind, tipping so close to insanity. Here you are, engaged in sexual activities with another one of your step brothers. Two out of three. And although you had initiated the one from a couple days ago, this one had been all Chrollo. 

You whimper as you feel your orgasm threatening on the horizon, as you tug gently on Chrollo's soft hair and moan his name tellingly into the empty library. 

“I'm gonna cum.” You whimper, warning him with a few extra tugs to the hair in case he isn't listening. He only doubles his efforts, concentrating his sucking and licking on your clit and tossing you off the cliff of orgasm like a rag doll. You moan loudly as you cun, body tensing and convulsing as you come undone, tugging at his hair. 

It takes you a moment to come back, blinking up at the overhead lights. And when you speak, your voice is hoarse. 

“You can't tell.” You say, voice trembling in the room. You wait for Chrollo to nod, and when he does, then you flee again, pulling your panties up and dashing out of the room leaving Chrollo behind you. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You straighten your back as you stand a few feet outside of the doors to the exercise room. You know Hisoka is in there. You know he's there because you made sure to triple check with him, and both his brothers. You need to talk to him. Urgently, one might say, because you're kind of having a crisis, and it's surprisingly hard to get him alone to talk. But the crisis. Maybe it has something to do with the incidents that had happened in the last week. You shiver slightly as you remember them, body trembling as it recalls all of it. You shake your head, straighten your shoulders, and march into the gym with your head held high. 

You don't go in here often. You don't like working out, preferring sports to things like gyms and working out. But you know the general layout.

Hisoka is over by the rack of weights. You can see his brilliant hair from all the way across the room, as he does some sort of weight exercise. You move through the room, catching your own reflection out of the corner of your eye in the mirror lining one wall. The room is silent, besides for the sound of your feet on the cold concrete floor, and the muffled music blasting from Hisoka’s headphones. 

He hasn't spotted you yet. As you move closer, you watch his arm muscles bulge, completely put on display by the black tank top he's wearing. You clear your throat, begging your already fried nerves and the arousal beating at your gut to calm down. 

“Hisoka? Can I talk to you?” You say, trying to be audible over the music pounding in his headphones. Hisoka looks up, meeting your eyes in the mirror in his sharp yellow gaze, and then smiles. 

“Ah, Name. I didn't see you there.” He says, placing the weight back in the rack, and pulling his headphones out of his ears. “Come to watch me workout?”

He winks, and you chuckle. He's not wrong, that's what you were doing just then. You shake any traces of arousal out of your face and force a smile.

“Um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” You say, bringing a hand to your mouth. You chew anxiously on your nails, heart pounding a bit too fast. Hisoka’s brow furrows, eyes scanning you up and down. 

“Is something wrong, darling?” He asks, moving closer to you, gently grabbing your hand and lowering it away from your mouth. You almost flinch as his hot fingers touch you, as he gets close enough and all you can see is the beads of sweat lingering on his skin. You want to lick them off, oddly enough. His hand is still holding your wrist. He can probably feel your pulse beating double time. 

“I,” You start, then clear your throat. “Well, this is kind of embarrassing.”

Hisoka raises an eyebrow, hidden behind his bright red hair. His eyes flicker the length of your body again, taking in your pajama shorts and t-shirt you cut into a crop top. You look like a slob, but he'd already seen you when he got home and you figured it would be weird if you showed up wearing something nicer to have this conversation. You didn't even know if he would believe you, or what he would say. You shake your head, begging your face not to flush. 

“Well, recently, i've been trying to get to know Illumi and Chrollo,” You start. Hisoka chuckles.

“Oh how adorable~” He says, patting you gently on your head. He smells of salt and musk and faintly of cologne. “Aren't you just the sweetest.”

You flush, body heating up at the nickname. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Is your hair natural?” You ask, too embarrassed to keep talking. Hisoka chuckles.

“Yes, doll. The three of us have different mothers.” He says, patting your head gently again. “Now what did you want to say?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter again, voice suddenly caught in your throat. “I'm not sure how to say this.”

Hisoka considers you, trying to peer into your soul through your eyes and figure out what's got you so worried. You almost wish he would. Then the words wouldn't have to pass your lips. He's starting to look almost worried. Or as worried as you've ever seen him look. 

“Why don't you sit down,” he says. You plop down onto the mat below your feet, sitting with your legs crossed on the cushy material. Hisoka sits down opposite you, smiling patiently at you. 

“Have my brothers been bothering you?” He asks, moving forward to smooth the wrinkle between your brows. “You don't deserve to worry your pretty head about those idiots.”

“Oh no, it's my fault too.” You say, shaking your head. Hisoka's hand withdraws, falling back into his lap. You don't know if you want him to touch you more or stand ten feet away. You can't decide which one you want more. 

“Well, I think I've been a bad step sister.” You confide, leaning forward a bit. Hisoka raises an eyebrow,

“Oh why would you think that?” He purrs, reaching forward again to smooth a hand over your shoulder. “If anything, you're too good for undeserving men like us, doll.”

You smile, brushing your hair over your shoulder. The gym is empty besides the two of you. You don't know if anyone else is home. Your mother and her new husband are on some favation. Illumi is 

“I guess. The other boys haven't complained or anything,” You flush, body temperature rising as you remember the things that had happened. “But, I keep doing things that step sisters aren't supposed to do.”

Hisoka’s face goes blank for a moment. He blinks a couple times, and then a smile appears on his face. 

“Whatever are you talking about?” He asks, a fake smile still glued to his face. You flinch, face still flushed. It feels like he already knows what you mean, or has an idea. But he seems like he wants to hear it from your lips. Hear you say all the dirty forbidden things you've gotten up to with his half siblings. You lick your lips and clear your throat. Your hands are trembling in your lap, and you clench them against your pajama shorts, suddenly feeling too naked to be doing this. You don't know why. 

Maybe it's how Hisoka is looking at you. His yellow eyes scan your body, taking in each square inch of bare skin on display for his viewing, or the careful way he holds himself. He looks predatory. You hate how it sends a bolt of heat to your gut. You take a deep breath, steady yourself, and speak.

“We have engaged in some sexual acts.” You whisper into the silence of the gym. Hisoka raises an eyebrow, looking mostly unsurprised. 

His yellow eyes dart down again, scanning your body as if looking for evidence of what you have spoken into existence.

“I'm afraid you're going to need to be more specific, doll.” Hisoka says, voice light and teasing as if the two of you are discussing something as trivial as the weather. You gulp down your spit, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

“I have Illumi a blow job. Chrollo ate me out.” You say, keeping your eyes closed. “What am I supposed to do?”

Silence echoes in the gym for a moment. And then Hisoka chuckles. 

“Oh my, what a dilemma you seem to have, doll.” He laughs, the sound echoing in the empty room. You open your eyes, kind of confused.

“You seem surprised.” You say, eyes gliding over Hisoka’s body again before you can yank them up to his eyes. You're already a bit turned on from just talking to him, touching him, being near him. Not to mention thinking too much about the events of the last week. 

“Oh, i figured it out as soon as you mentioned sexual acts.” Hisoka says, doing air quotations around the words ‘sexual acts’. He shoots you a wink as he continues. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Oh,” You say. He seems very casual about this, very unbothered. You pull your lower lip into your mouth, biting it as you watch him smile unnervingly. “Why aren't you angry?”

“Hmm~” Hisoka hums, eyes darting down to your mouth as you let your bottom lip out of your mouth, probably a bit red from the biting. “I wonder.”

It happens so fast. One moment you're sitting upright, watching Hisoka in front of you with apprehension. And then the next moment you're tumbling backwards, the world spinning on its axis. Your back hits the mat with a thump and you grunt. Hisoka looms over you, a feral light hiding in his eyes as he greedily scans you up and down. 

“What?” You say breathlessly, biting back the moan that wants to leak out as you take in Hisoka above you. His hair droops around him in a brilliant red halo. He cages you against the matte softened floor, and you whimper as his thigh finds its way between your legs, pressing up into your pussy. 

“My brothers and I are very different, you know.” Hisoka says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck. “But I suppose we are similar in some ways after all.”

He nips at your neck and you whimper, body reflexively straightening against his thigh. Your hands reach up to scrabble at his shoulders. 

“Wait, Hisoka.” You whimper as he breaths hot and heavy on your ear, pressing hickeys on the skin under your ear. “No marks, they’ll see.”

Hisoka laughs huskily. 

“Who doll?” He laughs, pressing his thug against your pussy harder. You whimper, pleasure running a hard line down your spine. You're losing your mind and he hasn't even taken your clothes off. 

“Chrollo” You breathe, the name coming out as more of a moan. “And Illumi.”

“Ah, not those pesky absent parents of ours?” Hisoka says, a chuckle in his voice. “Oh they won't mind. If anything, they’ll take it as a challenge. How would you like that doll?”

You whimper, gripping his muscled shoulders tightly and digging your nails into his back. Hisoka grunts, body pressing you deep into the floor. You're trapped, between the matt covered floor and a body of solid muscle. Hisoka reaches down, using one hand to pull the loose pajama shorts off your body, tossing them somewhere behind him. You whimper as he yanks off your panties too, exposing your poor pussy to the bare air and the mean strokes of his corded thigh. 

“You're so sexy,” You whimper as he drives his muscled thigh into your clit. You feel like you're going to break, just shatter to pieces right there on the gym floor. Hisoka laughs, heavy in your ear. 

“What a slutty step-sister I have.” he breathes, voice deliciously husky. “I wonder. Could you handle all of us at once?”

Your pussy twitches against him, drooling more arousal, leaving sticky trains all over the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Oh god yes,” You whimper, images of it filling your mind. You're too turned on to be mortified as HIsoka laughs, kissing hickeys and bite marks all over your neck. You're losing your mind. It seems your three for three, and all you want to do is to be fucked stupid by your step brothers. 

Hisoka chuckles, pulling away to stare down at you with lust driven yellow eyes, almost glowing behind curtains of red hair. And then he shoves two fingers into your mouth.

“Be a good girl and suck.” He coos, driving his thigh against your pussy in regular thrusts, driving you closer and closer to orgasms. You're gonna cum. Soon, you're so close to losing your mind.

You're sure you look like a mess. Your hair is a messy halo around your head two fingers shoved in your mouth, your body twisting and turning on the mat. Shorts and underwear long discarded, grinding your bare pussy on your step brother's clothed thigh. But you don't even care. Hisoka smiles above you, canines sharp in the lowlight.

“You gonna cum, doll?” he smiles. You nod, sucking his fingers obediently, whining around them as best you can. Hisoka smiles, merciful as an avenging angel above you.

“You've been so good, so I'll let you cum.” You coos, leaning the weight of his body on you as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth. You're about to protest, but you don't get words as he replaces his fingers with his lips, sealing your mouth in a kiss as you fall off the edge.

Your body convulses as you cum, grinding down on his thigh until you can't anymore, until you're screaming from oversensitivity and you yank yourself away from his thigh, trembling. Hisoka eats every moan and scream, muffling it with his tongue and his lips. Until finally, he pulls away with a little chuckle.

“Done already?” He coos, wiping the tears and spit from your face with a laugh. “I was just going to call the others.”

...

Endnotes: i hope you guys enjoyed this kinktober ride as much as i did lol. This ones a bit long but i figured we’d better go out with a bang~

[pinkmoontaco]

can you do one about idol jeonghan x idol reader that gets into a dating scandal but ends up actually dating? pretty pleaseee i love u work btw

Caught in the Spotlight || Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Idol Jeonghan x Idol reader Summary: When a dating scandal erupts, Y/N’s career is put at risk, forcing her to face public backlash and betrayal. Amid the chaos, Jeonghan stands by her side, determined to protect her no matter the cost. As they navigate fame, heartbreak, and tough choices, they discover that love — even in the harshest spotlight — can shine the brightest. Genre: Drama, Romance, Fluff

Authors note: Hey everyone, 😊!! I'm back with a story that was requested by one of you! First off, I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you’ve shown. Your sweet comments, reblogs, and kind words truly inspire me to keep writing, so please keep them coming and please don't forget to follow for more stories like this!! Love you guys ❤️ And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other group M.list

The night air was crisp, the streets dimly lit by flickering streetlights as Jeonghan stepped out of the upscale restaurant. His fingers tugged his mask higher over his face, hoping to slip away unnoticed. The dinner had been a quiet one — a casual gathering with a few industry friends — nothing to raise eyebrows.

But luck clearly wasn’t on his side tonight.

"Jeonghan-ssi?"

He turned at the familiar voice. Standing just a few feet away was you, still adjusting the strap of your bag. Dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, you looked far from the glamorous idol the public was used to seeing.

“Oh… hey,” Jeonghan said, surprised.

You offered a polite smile — the kind idols mastered after years in the spotlight — and gave a small nod. “Didn’t know you were here too.”

“Yeah… just dinner with a few friends,” he explained, pointing over his shoulder.

There was an awkward pause. You weren’t exactly strangers — award shows, backstage run-ins, and overlapping schedules had put you in the same circles before — but you were hardly close.

“Well… have a good night,” you said, turning to leave.

But just then —

Flash! Flash! Flash!

The blinding burst of camera flashes lit up the street like fireworks. Shouts filled the air as a group of paparazzi rounded the corner, cameras firing wildly.

“Jeonghan-ssi! Is this your girlfriend?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Y/N! Did you spend the night together?”

“What the—” Jeonghan barely had time to react before you instinctively grabbed his arm.

“Let’s go!” you hissed, pulling him down the street. The two of you weaved through the crowd, the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting reporters echoing behind you.

“Here!” Jeonghan yanked you into a side alley, pressing his back against the wall as you both caught your breath. Your fingers were still gripping his sleeve tightly.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I think so,” you panted, dropping his arm like it burned. “But that… that looked really bad.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… really bad.”

The next morning

[BREAKING] SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Y/N caught in late-night date — ‘Secret Romance Revealed?’ ‘Caught Leaving Together?’ Dating Rumors Explode Online Fans Demand Clarification After Jeonghan and Y/N's Late-Night Sighting

You scrolled through your phone in disbelief. The blurry photos plastered across the screen showed Jeonghan standing too close, your hand gripping his arm as if you were clinging to him for dear life. #Jeonghan_YN_Dating was already trending.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered. Your phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

“Hello?”

“You saw the articles, right?” Jeonghan’s voice came through the line, sounding both frustrated and tired.

“Yeah…” You rubbed your temples. “This is insane.”

“PR wants us to ‘clear things up,’” Jeonghan said. “They’re asking us to… I don’t know, act friendly? Like we’re just close industry friends.”

You sighed. “Great. So now we’re fake besties.”

“Apparently.” Jeonghan’s voice held a bitter chuckle. “We’re meeting tomorrow for a staged café run. Try not to look too miserable, yeah?”

“Only if you promise not to look smug.”

“Me? Smug?” He laughed, and for a moment, the tension lifted.

But as you hung up, reality set back in. This was going to be a disaster.

The café was buzzing with quiet conversations and clinking cups, yet all you could hear was the rapid thudding of your own heartbeat. Jeonghan sat across from you, casually stirring his iced americano as if this wasn’t the most awkward situation imaginable. The small corner table — handpicked by your managers for “privacy” — felt like a stage under the weight of curious stares.

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, still pretending to focus on his drink.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, lips barely lifting.

“Try harder.”

Rolling your eyes, you plastered on the fakest grin you could manage.

“That’s terrifying,” Jeonghan chuckled, unable to hold back.

You groaned, adjusting your sunglasses for the third time. “Why did they think this would fix anything?”

“Apparently,” Jeonghan said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “if we sit here long enough looking ‘friendly,’ people will believe we’re just pals.” He took a casual sip of his drink, pausing before adding, “You know… instead of lovers escaping a secret date in the dead of night.”

“Please don’t say that out loud,” you muttered, heat rushing to your face.

Unfortunately, Jeonghan’s comment wasn’t far from the truth. The rumors had spiraled overnight — fans digging through old footage, claiming your eyes met too often on music show stages or that Jeonghan’s smile was “different” when you were nearby. Theories ran wild.

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Jeonghan nearly choked on his drink. “Excuse me?” He placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Wow. I’m hurt.”

“You’ll survive,” you muttered.

“Unbelievable,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smile that was entirely too smug. “You could’ve at least pretended to be flattered.”

“Flattered?” You snorted. “I’m too busy drowning in hate comments to feel flattered.”

That wiped the grin off his face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Same.”

For a brief moment, the tension shifted — less awkward, more… real. Jeonghan’s fingers tapped restlessly against his cup, his gaze flickering to the café window where two girls lingered, phones in hand.

“Don’t look now,” he murmured. “But we’ve got an audience.” You instinctively glanced anyway — a terrible decision. The girls' eyes widened as they registered your face, one of them hurriedly whispering to the other.

“Great,” you muttered. “They’re definitely posting that.”

“Guess we better sell this, huh?” Jeonghan grinned — a mischievous one this time — and before you could ask what he meant, he reached across the table and plucked a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

Your heart stopped. “W-What are you doing?” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Helping,” Jeonghan said casually, popping the crumb into his mouth like it was no big deal.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered under your breath, but you knew the girls by the window were practically vibrating in excitement.

“We’re making headlines again, aren’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jeonghan said, voice full of smug satisfaction.

Later That Night

Your phone buzzed non-stop — articles, tweets, and fan edits were already flooding the internet.

“Jeonghan and Y/N spotted on a cozy café date — new couple in the industry?” “Jeonghan’s sweet gesture has fans melting — ‘Did you see him wipe her mouth?!’” “#Jeonghan_YN_CoupleGoals” trending No. 1 worldwide

You groaned, dropping your phone onto your bed. “This is never going to end…”

A text from Jeonghan popped up seconds later: Jeonghan: We should start charging for this. We’re practically giving K-drama scenes for free. 😎

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Jeonghan: Hey… hope you’re okay. Don’t let the comments get to you.

For the first time since the scandal broke, you felt something ease inside you.

You: Thanks. You too.

It had only been three days since the scandal broke, but it felt like weeks. Your name hadn’t left the headlines since the café outing, and no matter how many statements your agency released, the rumors only seemed to grow. The media twisted every tiny detail — analyzing your outfits, digging up old footage, even speculating that SEVENTEEN’s latest album hinted at Jeonghan’s “secret romance.”

Today was no different.

“Ready?” your manager asked, peeking into the waiting room.

You sighed, adjusting your oversized blazer — something your stylist had picked to make you look “more serious and professional” for the upcoming press event. “As I’ll ever be,” you muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” your manager encouraged, though the tension in her voice betrayed her worry.

But the second you stepped outside, you realized fine wasn’t on today’s agenda.

The reporters swarmed like bees, microphones shoved dangerously close to your face. Flashes blinded you, and voices overlapped into a deafening roar.

“Y/N! Over here!”

“Is it true you’ve been dating Jeonghan for months?”

“Did you meet his family?”

“Is this a PR stunt?”

“Excuse me—” you tried, your voice shaking.

Your breath hitched. The air suddenly felt too thick, your head spinning from the overwhelming noise.

“Y/N, look this way!”

“Are you moving in with him?”

“Hey! Back off!” Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist — firm but steady — and you felt yourself being pulled away from the chaos.

Jeonghan.

He barely looked back as he guided you through the crowd, one arm instinctively moving behind you as a barrier. He didn’t let go until you were safely tucked inside a black van, the door slamming shut behind you.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked, his voice softer now.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your palms to your temples. “I… yeah. Just... overwhelmed.”

Jeonghan frowned, his usual playful smile nowhere to be seen. “They’re insane out there.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “They think I’m halfway down the aisle with you.”

That earned a dry chuckle from Jeonghan. “Well, I am a catch.”

You let out a weak laugh despite yourself, grateful for the tension lifting.

But then Jeonghan’s voice turned serious again. “You know… you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re getting a lot of hate because of me. And I hate that. So if you… if you need space, or if you want me to back off —”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, surprising both of you.

Jeonghan blinked. “What?”

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap. “I just… I’m tired of feeling like I have to deal with this alone. It’s stupid, but… you make it a little easier.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jeonghan’s gaze softened, and his usual teasing smirk faded into something gentler.

“Well…” He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “I guess that makes two of us.”

The warmth of his presence lingered long after you’d parted ways.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Hyung… what is this?”

Jeonghan nearly choked on his water as Seungkwan slammed his phone on the table. The screen displayed a photo of Jeonghan guiding you into the van — his hand lingering on your waist a little too comfortably.

“‘Jeonghan’s Protective Boyfriend Era?’” Joshua read aloud, grinning. “Ohh, this is gold.”

“Did you see the comments?” Seungkwan added dramatically. “They’re calling you ‘Jeonghan-oppa’ now.”

“You guys are so annoying,” Jeonghan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Mingyu leaned over with a wolfish grin. “We’re just getting started.”

The charity event was supposed to be simple — smile, wave, and look composed. But of course, nothing was ever simple when you were standing beside Yoon Jeonghan.

The second you stepped onto the carpet together, the whispers began.

You kept your expression calm, but the tension coiled tight in your chest. Jeonghan, walking just a step ahead, seemed unfazed — effortlessly charming as he greeted photographers.

“Look, it’s them…”

“They’re totally dating.”

“Did you see that café video? He wiped her mouth!”

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, barely moving his lips.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, your grin strained.

“Then why do you look like you want to set something on fire?”

“Because I do.”

Jeonghan huffed a soft laugh, barely audible over the noise of cameras clicking. To the crowd, it probably looked like the two of you were flirting — as if the fake smiles and forced laughter meant something more.

“Relax,” Jeonghan murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The words — simple as they were — eased something inside you.

Inside the ballroom, the chaos had dulled to murmured conversations and clinking glasses. Your manager had instructed you and Jeonghan to stay close for appearances, which meant you were stuck together for the evening.

“Here,” Jeonghan said, pressing a glass of water into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, barely managing a smile before taking a sip.

He didn’t move away, hovering beside you instead. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

But you weren’t. The stares hadn’t stopped, and the whispers felt deafening. Each smile you forced felt like a crack in your armor.

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

“What?”

“Just… trust me.”

The air was cool, crisp against your skin as Jeonghan held the door open for you. The hum of the event below faded, replaced by the stillness of the city lights stretching far into the horizon.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan said softly.

You did. The cold air stung your lungs, but at least out here, you could think.

“I know this is a lot,” Jeonghan murmured, leaning against the railing beside you. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad either.”

“I hate it,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. “The rumors, the comments… I feel like I can’t even breathe without people twisting it into something else.”

Jeonghan was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

You turned to him, surprised. “You?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Trust me, being SEVENTEEN’s ‘angel’ gets exhausting.” He smiled bitterly. “If I’m too nice, people think I’m fake. If I’m too quiet, they say I’m cold. And now…” He gestured vaguely between you two. “Now I’m the guy who’s apparently been sneaking around with a secret girlfriend for months.”

You laughed weakly. “I’d be a terrible secret girlfriend.”

Jeonghan grinned, his usual mischief flickering back. “Yeah… you’d totally blow our cover.”

The joke was light, but the air between you shifted — quieter, heavier.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you admitted. “You never seem to let it get to you.”

“I do,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I just… don’t let people see it.”

There it was — a rare crack in his usual playful mask. And before you could think better of it, your hand reached out, resting lightly over his.

“You don’t have to do that all the time,” you said softly. “You don’t always have to be the one holding everything together.”

Jeonghan’s fingers curled slightly under yours — warm and steady — and you realized with a jolt that you didn’t want to pull away.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

And for a moment, the noise, the rumors, the chaos — none of it mattered. It was just you, Jeonghan, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone in this mess.

The comments wouldn’t stop.

Every time you unlocked your phone, they flooded your screen like a raging storm.

"She’s not even pretty. Why would Jeonghan date her?" "She’s using him for attention." "She’s ruining his image."

Your fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling mindlessly through the endless wave of insults. Each comment felt sharper than the last — words that twisted in your chest like knives.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it would pass. That people would move on.

But they didn’t.

Instead, your name stayed trending — not for your music, not for your hard work, but because people were convinced you weren’t good enough to stand beside Yoon Jeonghan.

And today… today was worse.

An edited photo of you — your face distorted, mocked, and plastered with cruel captions — had gone viral. The quote beneath it read:

"Proof Jeonghan could do so much better."

Your vision blurred as you locked your phone and set it face-down on your desk. The lump in your throat burned, and no matter how hard you swallowed, it wouldn’t go away.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, and before you knew it — you were crying. Silent, angry tears that spilled faster than you could stop them.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan had barely stepped into the living room when he heard the conversation.

“...Did you see what they’re saying about her?” Joshua’s voice was quiet, but laced with concern.

“Yeah,” Mingyu muttered. “It’s brutal.”

“I don’t get it,” Seungkwan huffed. “She’s talented. She’s gorgeous. And she’s one of the nicest idols I’ve met. Why are they—?”

“Because people love tearing others down,” Joshua said grimly.

Jeonghan’s stomach twisted. He didn’t need to hear more. He already knew — the hateful comments, the constant targeting — he’d seen it all.

And you were enduring it alone.

Your Apartment

The knock at your door startled you.

You dragged yourself off the couch, wiping your face as best you could before opening it.

“Jeonghan?”

His eyes flickered over you — the red-rimmed eyes, the dull expression, the exhaustion etched into your face. His teasing smile was gone, replaced by something softer… something that looked dangerously close to concern.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

You stepped aside, too drained to argue.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching you like he wasn’t sure where to start.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he finally said.

“I know,” you muttered.

Jeonghan exhaled heavily. “Have you seen what people are saying?”

“I’ve seen plenty,” you said bitterly. “Kind of hard to miss when your face is everywhere.”

“Hey…” His voice softened. “You can’t let them get to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped, your voice cracking. “They’re not calling you ugly. They’re not saying you’re only famous because of some fake scandal.”

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not fair.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“I know what people are saying,” Jeonghan said firmly. “But they’re wrong. All of them.”

“Doesn’t really feel that way.” Your voice wavered. “It feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jeonghan’s expression softened. Without warning, he reached out, his hand curling gently around your wrist.

“You’re more than enough,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, startled. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I’m not.” His grip tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to ground you. “I mean it.”

And when your eyes flickered to his, you saw it — the warmth, the sincerity… the way Jeonghan was looking at you like you were someone worth protecting.

Your breath hitched. “I don’t know how to keep pretending this doesn’t hurt,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, threading between your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be okay right now. Just… let me stay?”

Your walls — the ones you’d spent weeks building — finally crumbled. The tears came faster than you could stop them, and before you knew it, Jeonghan’s arms were around you.

“I’m right here,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed it.

The hateful comments didn’t stop. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

Every new headline dragged you back into the spotlight — "Jeonghan’s Rumored Girlfriend Under Fire Again!" — and your face was splashed across every gossip site. The cruel words felt endless, no matter how much you tried to ignore them.

But there was one unexpected shift.

Jeonghan.

Since that night in your apartment, he hadn’t left your side. Texts every morning asking if you’d eaten. Calls before performances. Quiet glances from across crowded rooms — a silent check-in only you seemed to notice.

You should’ve been grateful. But instead, it was starting to scare you.

Because Jeonghan wasn’t acting anymore.

At the Music Show Recording

“You’ll be okay?” Jeonghan asked quietly.

You nodded, adjusting your mic pack with shaky fingers. “Yeah… I’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” his voice softened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze flicking toward the backstage monitors. The audience outside was louder than usual, and you already knew why. The crowd was buzzing with signs, banners — some supportive, others cruel.

Jeonghan followed your gaze and sighed. “Unbelievable…”

“I’m used to it,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m not.” His tone sharpened, and before you could stop him, Jeonghan was already moving toward the stage entrance.

“Wait — Jeonghan, what are you doing?” you called after him.

“Fixing this.”

On Stage

It started with a simple interview — routine questions about SEVENTEEN’s comeback. Jeonghan smiled, cracked a few jokes, and kept the mood light.

But when the MC shifted gears, you knew things were about to get messy.

“So, Jeonghan,” the host began, smirking, “I have to ask… how’s your special someone doing?”

Laughter rippled through the audience — some genuine, some mocking. Cameras panned to the crowd, flashing glimpses of posters with your face crossed out.

Your chest tightened.

“Yeah,” the MC chuckled, “I heard her group’s getting a lot of… attention lately.”

The comment stung, disguised as a joke but loaded with malice.

Jeonghan’s smile vanished.

“Actually,” he said, voice firm, “I think her group’s doing amazing. They’ve worked hard, and they deserve the attention they’re getting — positive attention.”

The room went silent.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened as he continued, “And I think people forget that no matter how famous someone is… they’re still human. They still feel things. So maybe instead of hiding behind keyboards and tearing someone down, people should focus on supporting the artists they claim to love.”

His words lingered in the air — sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

The host shifted uncomfortably. “Well… that’s very… thoughtful of you, Jeonghan.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan said dryly, “I’m thoughtful.”

And just like that, he grabbed his mic stand and strolled off the stage.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said the second Jeonghan appeared backstage.

“Yes, I did,” he shot back, his voice unusually tense.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m serious.” His gaze softened, and he took a step closer. “They’ve been dragging your name for weeks. I couldn’t just stand there.”

“I can handle it,” you whispered, your voice barely steady.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond — unsure how to deal with the way his words made your heart ache in a way that had nothing to do with the hate.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly.

Jeonghan’s eyes locked on yours — steady and unwavering.

“Because I care,” he said simply.

Your breath caught. “This is starting to feel… too real.”

“It is real,” Jeonghan murmured, his fingers brushing your hand. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles — soft, lingering, far too gentle to mean nothing.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled against his.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m not pretending anymore,” he whispered.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure where the lines between fake and real even existed anymore.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I knew it!” Seungkwan’s voice rang through the living room. “He’s gone! Completely whipped!”

“I called it first,” Mingyu shot back.

“You did not!”

Joshua grinned from the couch. “I’m just saying… I’m free on Friday if you guys need help picking out wedding tuxedos.”

Jeonghan groaned, slumping face-first into a pillow.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Unbelievably cute,” Seungkwan corrected.

From under the pillow, Jeonghan’s muffled voice rang out:

“I’m never leaving this dorm again…”

The headlines spread like wildfire.

"Yoon Jeonghan Defends Rumored Girlfriend — 'She’s More Than Enough!’” "Jeonghan Stuns Fans with Emotional Statement — Is Their Relationship Real After All?" "SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan Steps In — Fans Divided Over His Bold Move."

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Fans. Reporters. Even people you hadn’t spoken to in years — everyone had something to say about Jeonghan’s outburst.

The pressure twisted in your chest, and no matter how many times you told yourself to breathe, your heart wouldn’t slow down.

“Are you two really dating?”

“Is he only defending you because the scandal’s true?”

“Why is Jeonghan acting so… protective?”

At the Practice Room

“You’re not answering your phone,” Jeonghan said quietly, standing in the doorway.

“I needed some air,” you muttered, hugging your knees to your chest. The practice room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights outside. It was quiet — the only place that felt safe these days.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You swallowed hard. “I just… I didn’t know what to say.”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping further inside. He crossed the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. “I know things are… messy right now.”

“That’s an understatement.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Half the internet thinks I’m some manipulative, fame-hungry girl who tricked you into falling for her.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan’s voice sharpened. “Well, the other half thinks I’m some careless jerk playing with your feelings.”

You blinked. “That’s not true.”

“Neither’s what they’re saying about you,” he shot back.

Silence settled between you — thick, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore.

“You shouldn’t have said all that,” you muttered. “Now everyone’s even more convinced this is real.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “You think I care what they believe?”

“You should!” you snapped. “Your group — your career — you put all of it on the line because of me.”

“Because I care about you!” Jeonghan’s voice rose — louder than you’d ever heard it.

The words seemed to echo in the room, both of you frozen in their aftermath.

“You…” Your voice faltered. “You what?”

Jeonghan let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I care about you,” he repeated, softer this time. “I know this whole thing started as damage control, but…” His voice broke slightly. “It’s not just that anymore.”

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. “Jeonghan…”

“I know,” he cut in quickly. “I know this is bad timing, and I know you’re tired, and I know you probably think I’m just —”

“I don’t,” you whispered.

Jeonghan blinked. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think you’re just… anything.” Your fingers toyed anxiously with the hem of your sleeve. “I just don’t understand why. Why now?”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping closer. “Because I’ve been watching you try to hold yourself together for weeks now — pretending it doesn’t hurt when I know it does.” His voice softened, like he was afraid of pushing you too far. “And every time I see you smile like you’re fine when I know you’re not… it makes me crazy.”

He took another step — so close now you could feel his warmth. “I don’t care what people say,” he murmured. “I just… I couldn’t stand watching you go through this alone.”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t alone.”

“You felt alone,” Jeonghan corrected. “And I’m not letting that happen again.”

His hand lifted, fingers brushing your cheek so gently it felt like a whisper.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said softly.

The warmth of his touch lingered long after he pulled away.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I told you!” Seungkwan declared, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

“Unbelievable,” Mingyu grinned. “Hyung’s down bad.”

“Can you two stop?” Joshua chuckled from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s already regretting everything.”

“I heard that,” Jeonghan groaned from his room.

“We know,” Seungkwan yelled back.

“Good luck keeping this one quiet,” Mingyu added smugly. “At this rate, you’ll be holding hands on stage by next week.”

Jeonghan pulled his pillow over his face and groaned louder.

The night should’ve been simple — just another music show broadcast with groups performing and greeting fans.

But of course, things were never simple anymore.

Since Jeonghan’s public defense, the tension had only grown worse. Some fans called his speech romantic, praising him for standing up for you. Others… weren’t so kind.

Tonight, those cruel voices felt louder than ever.

Backstage at the Music Show

You stood quietly in the hallway, scrolling through your phone. The comments were brutal.

"Still riding Jeonghan’s fame, huh?" "She’s lucky her face isn’t part of their concept, ‘cause wow…” "Why can’t she just disappear already?"

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and locked your phone.

“Don’t read that stuff.”

You turned to see Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his expression softer than usual.

“I wasn’t,” you lied.

“You were,” Jeonghan said firmly, stepping closer. “And you don’t deserve any of it.”

Before you could answer, a staff member called for SEVENTEEN to head to the stage.

Jeonghan hesitated, gaze lingering on you. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

On Stage — The Ending Segment

The music show’s closing ceremony was chaotic — idols packed together, waving to fans while confetti rained down. Cameras scanned the groups, lingering on certain faces longer than others.

That’s when you heard it.

“Hey.”

A voice, low but cutting, came from somewhere behind you.

“You should’ve quit while you had the chance,” the voice sneered. “Maybe then Jeonghan’s career wouldn’t be going down with yours.”

You froze. The words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating.

Slowly, you turned. A junior idol — someone desperate for attention — stood smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

“Excuse me?” you said quietly, your fingers curling into fists.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You’re dragging him down. Maybe if you weren’t so —”

“What did you just say?”

The voice wasn’t yours this time.

Jeonghan appeared like a shadow, stepping between you and the other idol. His usual teasing smile was gone — replaced with something colder, sharper.

“Jeonghan, hey,” the guy stammered, suddenly looking less confident. “I was just joking —”

“That wasn’t a joke.” Jeonghan’s voice was low, dangerously calm. “If you have a problem with me, fine. But don’t you ever talk about her like that again.”

The crowd was starting to notice — cameras turning, staff whispering.

“Relax, man,” the guy mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Jeonghan snapped. “If you say one more word about her, you’re gonna regret it.”

And then — before you could even process what was happening — Jeonghan grabbed your hand.

Firm. Protective. Unapologetic.

The noise around you blurred as he pulled you offstage, ignoring the murmurs and stares. His fingers didn’t loosen their hold until you were backstage — away from the cameras and the judging eyes.

Backstage — Moments Later

“Jeonghan…” you started, still stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he shot back. “You think I was just gonna stand there and let him humiliate you?”

“It’s not your fight,” you said quietly.

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t care what people say about me. But you?” His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling over your wrist again — softer this time. “I’m not letting anyone treat you like that.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re going to get dragged into more rumors if you keep—”

“Let them talk.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped lower, quieter. “None of that matters to me.”

His fingers brushed against yours — barely a touch, but enough to make your heart race.

“Why?” you whispered.

Jeonghan exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding it in for too long.

“Because I’m tired of pretending,” he murmured. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.”

The weight of his words hit you all at once. Your eyes searched his, finding nothing but quiet honesty.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Jeonghan’s thumb traced the back of your hand, a soft gesture that lingered longer than it should have. “Just… don’t push me away this time.”

And for once, you didn’t.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I cannot believe this,” Seungkwan gasped, pacing the room. “He really just — in front of everyone?!”

“He grabbed her hand, hyung!” Mingyu grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “No more rumors — this is officially real.”

Jeonghan groaned from his spot on the couch, tugging his hoodie over his face. “I’m never showing my face in public again.”

Joshua chuckled, patting Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. If the fans didn’t think you were in love before… they definitely do now.”

From under the hoodie, Jeonghan’s muffled voice muttered:

“…totally worth it.”

The headlines didn’t waste time.

"Jeonghan’s Public Outburst — What’s Really Going On?" "Jeonghan Caught Holding Hands with Rumored Girlfriend — Dating Confirmed?" "Fans Divided Over Jeonghan’s Growing Attachment."

Your social media had become impossible to manage. Some fans flooded your posts with hearts and encouragement — others weren’t as kind. The comments were brutal.

"What did she even do to deserve this?" "She’s clearly manipulating him." "Jeonghan’s ruining his career over some nobody."

You were exhausted — mind clouded with anxiety, heart caught between frustration and confusion.

At the Practice Room

You pressed your forehead against the mirror, eyes closed tightly. The tension in your chest wouldn’t go away — like a constant knot that refused to loosen.

“Deep breaths,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re fine. You’re—”

“You’re not fine.”

Your eyes snapped open.

Jeonghan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze locked firmly on you.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been busy,” you muttered.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jeonghan corrected.

You let out a heavy sigh, turning back to your reflection. “It’s easier that way.”

“Easier?” His voice rose slightly. “You think ignoring this — ignoring me — is gonna make things better?”

“I think dragging you into this any more than I already have is a bad idea,” you shot back. “The fans hate me. Your company’s probably furious with you. And for what? Because you can’t stop defending me?”

“Because I care about you!”

The room went silent.

“I care about you,” Jeonghan repeated, his voice softer now. “And I don’t regret standing up for you — not for a second.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “Jeonghan… you can’t keep putting yourself in the middle of this.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he said firmly. “I chose this.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in days, you let yourself really look at him. The way exhaustion weighed on his features… the way he still stood there, unwavering, like no amount of public backlash could change his mind.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“Because…” Jeonghan took a careful step closer. “Because when all this started, I thought I was just protecting you. But somewhere along the way… I stopped pretending.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t care what they say,” Jeonghan murmured. “I don’t care what the media writes or what strangers on the internet think they know about me. All I know is…”

He paused, gaze locking with yours.

“All I know is that I’m falling for you,” he whispered. “And nothing else matters.”

The air between you felt heavy — thick with unsaid words and emotions too overwhelming to ignore.

“Jeonghan…”

“I mean it,” he said softly. “But if you tell me to back off, I will.” His fingers curled at his sides, like he was forcing himself not to reach for you. “If you don’t want this — if you don’t want me — just say the word.”

You opened your mouth to speak… but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth — the one you’d been burying under fear and self-doubt — was that you wanted him, too.

“I don’t want you to back off,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s breath caught. “You don’t?”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “I just… I didn’t think you really meant it.”

“I do,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I really, really do.”

And this time, when his fingers brushed yours, you didn’t pull away.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You what?!” Seungkwan practically shrieked, nearly knocking over his drink.

“You heard me,” Jeonghan muttered from his spot on the couch, face half-buried in a pillow.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mingyu held up his hands like he needed to process it all. “So you confessed — and she didn’t reject you?”

“Nope,” Joshua grinned. “She didn’t.”

“Which means…” Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “You two are, like… together now?”

“I don’t know!” Jeonghan groaned. “I think so?”

“Oh my God,” Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Our Jeonghan… in an actual relationship?!”

“I give it three days before you start acting disgustingly cute,” Mingyu teased.

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeonghan smirked from behind his pillow.

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Mingyu shot back. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear you whine about your crush anymore.”

Seungkwan flopped beside Jeonghan with a smug grin. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you two humble.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

The call from your company came faster than you expected.

“You need to stop seeing Jeonghan.”

Your manager’s voice was firm — no room for argument.

“This scandal isn’t dying down,” they continued. “And now that Jeonghan’s gotten involved? Fans are turning on both of you. If you don’t cut ties soon, this could hurt your group’s comeback — not to mention your career.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around your phone. “So you’re telling me to pretend he doesn’t exist?”

“I’m telling you to protect yourself.”

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan’s voice was sharp — a rare crack in his usual calm.

“Take a step back,” the manager warned. “Pledis doesn’t want this blowing up any more than it already has.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore her?” Jeonghan’s voice rose. “Like none of this ever happened?”

“You’re risking the group’s reputation,” the manager said firmly. “If you care about her as much as you claim… you’ll leave her alone before this gets worse.”

Days Later — Practice Room

You stared blankly at the mirror, eyes glassy. The weight of your manager’s warning had been gnawing at you for days.

“...if you care about him, you’ll stay away.”

The words haunted you.

And so, you kept your distance. No texts. No calls. No lingering glances when you knew Jeonghan was nearby.

It hurt — more than you wanted to admit.

“Y/N…”

You flinched at the sound of his voice. Turning slowly, you found Jeonghan standing at the doorway — eyes dark, face tense.

“You’re ignoring me,” he said quietly.

“I’m just… busy,” you mumbled.

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Jeonghan, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Don’t push me away.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered.

“It is that simple,” Jeonghan insisted. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know what they’re telling you — I know what they’re saying about me, too.” His hand reached for yours, fingers barely brushing your wrist. “But none of that matters. Not if we—”

“It does matter,” you cut in, voice trembling. “If we keep this up, you’re going to get hurt. Your group — your career — I can’t be the reason you lose all of that.”

“You’re not,” Jeonghan said fiercely. “This isn’t just some passing scandal. This is us. And I’m not letting anyone tell me I can’t have that.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer — so close you could feel his warmth.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he murmured. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to say it — to end this before it spiraled even more out of control.

But the words wouldn’t come.

“I can’t,” you whispered instead.

Jeonghan’s shoulders dropped with relief. Without warning, his hand slid up to cup your face — thumb brushing your cheek so gently it made your heart ache.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“So…” Seungkwan perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like he knew something.

Jeonghan sighed. “What?”

“You did meet up with her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please.” Mingyu flopped beside him. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot since you walked in.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And you’re still wearing her bracelet.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. He glanced down at his wrist — the small braided bracelet Y/N had given him months ago.

“…oops.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Joshua grinned from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s finally gone soft.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “I’m not soft.”

“Sure,” Mingyu smirked. “Tell that to the smile you’re trying to hide.”

Jeonghan’s face burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the grin off his face.

The article dropped like a bomb.

"Jeonghan’s Secret Romance — How Long Have They Really Been Together?" "Insider Reveals Y/N’s History of Using Connections for Fame." "Did Y/N’s Group’s Success Depend on Jeonghan’s Influence?"

The accusations weren’t just cruel — they were personal. The article painted you as manipulative — someone who clung to Jeonghan to boost your career.

Fans flooded social media. Some defended you, but the louder voices were full of anger.

"She’s been leeching off SEVENTEEN’s popularity this whole time." "I knew she wasn’t genuine. Poor Jeonghan." "I hope Pledis makes him end this soon — she’s ruining him."

It was suffocating.

At Your Dorm

“Just stay offline,” your manager urged, pacing the room. “We’ll issue a statement — deny everything.”

“It won’t matter,” you muttered. “They’ve already decided I’m the villain.”

Your voice broke at the end, and your manager softened. “This will pass,” they promised. “People forget these things quickly.”

But you weren’t convinced.

Meanwhile — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s phone buzzed nonstop. His inbox was overflowing — texts from worried staff, Pledis representatives warning him to “avoid further controversy,” and comments that cut deeper than he expected.

"I never thought Jeonghan would fall for someone so desperate." "He deserves better." "I can’t believe he’s risking everything for her."

“You okay?” Joshua’s voice was soft.

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “No.”

“You should talk to her,” Joshua said.

“I don’t know if I should,” Jeonghan mumbled. “What if I make things worse?”

“You think ignoring her will make things better?” Joshua shook his head. “She’s hurting, Jeonghan. And you’re the only one who can fix that.”

Later That Night — Outside Your Dorm

The knock at your door startled you.

“Y/N…” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, barely audible through the door.

You wiped your eyes and opened it. He stood there — hair tousled, eyes heavy with concern.

“Can I come in?”

You hesitated but stepped aside.

“I saw the article,” he said softly. “I know what they’re saying, and I…” He paused, like he was trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though.” Jeonghan’s voice hardened. “They’re attacking you because of me. And if I had just —”

“Stop,” you cut in. “I’m tired of pretending this is just your fight. It’s our fight, Jeonghan. And I’m scared.”

Your voice cracked, and Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

For a moment, you just stood there — hearts racing, words unspoken.

Then Jeonghan reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, warm and comforting.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” you whispered. “You should let me go before this gets worse.”

“I can’t,” Jeonghan said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave — all the worry, the pain, the longing you’d tried so hard to bury.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in — and Jeonghan was already there, meeting you halfway.

His lips pressed softly against yours — tentative at first, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your fingers tangled in his hoodie, holding him closer as the tension finally broke — weeks of fear and frustration melting into something warmer, something real.

When you finally parted, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, breath shaky.

“We’ll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You WHAT?!” Seungkwan’s scream practically shook the walls.

“You kissed her?” Mingyu grinned like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finally!” Hoshi cheered. “I thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a room together.”

“Please don’t,” Jeonghan muttered, sinking into the couch.

“Too late,” Seungkwan declared dramatically. “I knew this was happening — it was only a matter of time!”

“I’ll admit,” Joshua added with a smile, “I’m impressed you managed to last this long.”

Jeonghan sighed, face buried in his hands. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t,” Mingyu teased. “You’re too busy being in love.”

Jeonghan groaned loudly — but deep down, he knew they were right.

The photo spread like wildfire.

Blurry yet unmistakable — you and Jeonghan standing outside your dorm, his hand on your face, your head leaning against his chest. The dim streetlight barely masked the intimacy of the moment.

"Jeonghan and Y/N — Secret Late-Night Meeting CONFIRMED!" "Rumors Were True All Along?" "Fans Furious Over Jeonghan’s Lies."

The backlash hit immediately.

"I can’t believe he lied to us." "So they’ve been sneaking around this whole time?" "He’s throwing away SEVENTEEN’s hard work for her?"

Your heart sank reading the comments — each one sharper than the last.

“You need to deny it.”

Your manager’s voice was cold and clipped. “Your group’s comeback is weeks away, and if you don’t fix this now, they’ll blacklist you from promotions.”

“I can’t just—”

“You can,” they interrupted. “And you will. Unless you want to lose everything you’ve worked for.”

Their words hit hard. You thought about your group — the years spent training together, the exhausting schedules, the moments you’d fought so hard to earn your place in the industry.

Were you willing to risk all of that… for him?

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“They want me to lie,” Jeonghan muttered, voice low. “Say it was a misunderstanding. Say we’re just friends.”

“Are you gonna?” Joshua asked gently.

Jeonghan shook his head. “I can’t.” His fingers clenched tightly around his phone. “I’m not letting her take the fall for this. Not alone.”

“You’re really serious about her,” Joshua said softly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Jeonghan admitted.

Later That Evening — Outside Your Dorm

You opened the door to find Jeonghan standing there — hair damp from the rain, eyes sharp with determination.

“Jeonghan…”

“I know what they’re asking you to do,” he said quickly. “I know they’re telling you to end this — to act like none of this ever happened.”

You swallowed hard. “They said I’ll lose everything if I don’t.”

“And if you do?” Jeonghan’s gaze softened. “You’ll lose me.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want you to choose between me and your career,” Jeonghan said carefully. “But I need you to know… I’m not hiding this anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m going public.” His voice was firm. “If they want someone to blame, they can blame me. If they want someone to drag through the mud, I’ll take it. But I’m not letting them tear you down for this.”

“You can’t,” you whispered. “You’ll ruin your career—”

“I don’t care.”

His hand reached for yours, fingers curling tightly around your own.

“I love you,” Jeonghan said softly. “And I’d rather face the whole world knowing I chose you… than lose you trying to save my reputation.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare — stunned, overwhelmed, and hopelessly in love.

“Jeonghan…” your voice shook. “I love you, too.”

His eyes lit up — like hearing those words made everything else disappear.

“Then let’s fight this,” he whispered. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Press Conference

The room buzzed with reporters, cameras flashing from every angle. The members sat in a neat row, tension thick in the air.

Jeonghan’s mic clicked on.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk about me recently,” he began, voice calm but steady. “So I want to be honest — with my fans, with my members, and with everyone else watching.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N and I… we’re together.”

The room exploded with noise — reporters shouting questions, camera shutters clicking furiously.

“But I need to say this,” Jeonghan continued firmly. “Y/N isn’t to blame for this. If anyone deserves criticism, it’s me. I’m the one who pursued her, I’m the one who refused to let her walk away. So if you’re angry… be angry with me.”

He glanced down at his members, who — to his surprise — were smiling.

“Yah,” Seungkwan muttered loudly enough for the mic to catch. “We told you to confess to her months ago.”

The room erupted in startled laughter.

“Yeah,” Mingyu added, grinning. “Took you long enough, hyung.”

The tension lifted — even if just slightly — and Jeonghan felt his chest unclench for the first time in weeks.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I still can’t believe you actually did it,” you said, resting your head against Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Me neither,” Jeonghan admitted, fingers threading through your hair. “But I’d do it again if it means I get to keep you.”

“You know they’re still talking about us, right?”

“Let them talk,” Jeonghan said quietly. “As long as I’ve got you… I don’t care what they say.”

His lips brushed your forehead, lingering long enough for you to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not now… not ever.”

The air inside Pledis felt suffocating.

“You can’t be this reckless, Jeonghan.” The manager’s voice was tight with frustration. “You might think this is romantic, but SEVENTEEN’s comeback is in two weeks. The media’s still focused on this scandal, and it’s dragging the group down.”

“I’ll take the blame,” Jeonghan said firmly. “Leave the others out of it.”

“That’s not how this works,” the manager snapped. “You’re part of SEVENTEEN. Everything you do reflects on them.”

Jeonghan clenched his fists. “So what? You want me to apologize for loving someone?”

“I want you to be smart about this,” the manager shot back. “For now, you’re off the next few promotions. The group can handle it without you.”

Jeonghan’s stomach dropped.

“You’re pulling me from the comeback?”

“No.” The manager’s tone softened. “But until this dies down… lay low.”

Meanwhile — At Your Company

“You won’t be joining the group’s next variety appearance,” your manager informed you bluntly.

“What?!”

“It’s better this way,” they added quickly. “The more you’re seen right now, the worse things get for your group. We can’t risk that.”

“But this isn’t just about me,” you said, voice shaking. “I worked just as hard as the others—”

“And you’re risking all of it because of this relationship,” they cut in. “You need to understand… if you keep this up, you won’t just lose your career. You’ll drag your members down with you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

Two Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan sat on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, as Mingyu quietly placed a can of soda beside him.

“Hyung…” Mingyu began softly.

“I’m fine,” Jeonghan muttered.

“You’re not fine,” Mingyu shot back. “You’ve barely spoken since Pledis pulled you from promotions.”

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the point? I’ve already messed everything up.”

“You didn’t mess things up,” Seungkwan cut in, appearing in the doorway. “But you are being dramatic.”

Jeonghan shot him a tired glare.

“I’m serious,” Seungkwan said, plopping down beside him. “We’re a team — one stupid scandal isn’t going to ruin SEVENTEEN.”

“But what about her?” Jeonghan’s voice faltered. “Her company’s freezing her out. If she loses everything because of me…”

“Then stop sulking and do something about it,” Hoshi said, suddenly popping his head into the room.

“Like what?”

Hoshi grinned. “Leave that to us.”

The Next Day — Social Media Buzzes

"OMG SEVENTEEN’s Seungkwan just posted a hilarious dance cover — he’s in a full dinosaur costume!" "Mingyu’s live? Why is he making pancakes… at midnight?" "Hoshi’s teaching choreography on TikTok and... failing miserably?!"

Fans were confused — but entertained. SEVENTEEN’s chaotic antics became an instant distraction, drawing focus away from Jeonghan’s scandal.

Later That Night — Quiet Streets

The hashtags shifted.

#JeonghanScandal → #SeventeenDinoDance

#BoycottY/N → #MingyuPancakeKing

You barely recognized Jeonghan with his cap pulled low and mask covering most of his face. He stood just beyond the streetlamp’s glow, waiting for you.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” you said softly, guilt weighing heavy on your heart.

“I needed to see you,” Jeonghan whispered. “I don’t care what they’re saying. I just… I had to know you’re okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I am.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached for yours, fingers lacing tightly between your own. “I never wanted this for you.”

You shook your head. “You’re not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s… everything else. My group’s upset. My company’s turning its back on me. I feel like I’m losing everything I worked for.”

“You’re not losing me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

Tears welled in your eyes. “But what if that’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” he said firmly. “You’re enough.”

His arms slipped around you, pulling you close — warm and steady in a way that made the noise of the world seem distant.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “And I’m not giving up on you — or us.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

The leaked recording hit social media like wildfire.

"Y/N’s agency planned her removal from the start?" "Insider reveals Y/N’s relationship was just an excuse to sideline her." "Did Y/N’s company sabotage her own career?"

The recording — muffled yet painfully clear — played over and over online.

“She’s too independent. Too popular. This scandal just makes it easier to push her back a little. It’s better if we let her fade quietly.”

Your heart sank when you heard it.

“They were planning to get rid of me,” you whispered.

Your manager’s voice echoed in your mind, cold and calculated. “This is better for everyone. The group will do fine without her.”

So all the late-night practices, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices you’d made for your career… had never been enough.

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan stared at his phone screen, fingers clenched tightly around it.

“They’re using her,” he muttered. “All this hate... they planned it.”

“Hyung…” Joshua’s voice was calm, but worried. “You need to be careful.”

“They’re already blaming me,” Jeonghan said bitterly. “Rumors about a dating ban are everywhere.”

“You know Pledis,” Joshua said. “They’ll do whatever keeps the fans happy.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care. If they think I’m giving up on her, they’re wrong.”

Later That Night — Your Dorm

You barely reacted when Jeonghan knocked on your door.

“I heard about the recording,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Jeonghan’s hand reached for yours, fingers threading together.

“You can’t let them win,” he said firmly.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” you confessed. “My company’s turned against me. Fans still hate me. My group is…” Your voice broke. “I’m scared, Jeonghan. What if I end up with nothing?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Because you’ll still have me.”

His words hit you hard. The tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

“I don’t want you to lose everything because of me,” you choked out.

Jeonghan’s arms circled you tightly, holding you like you were something precious — something he refused to lose.

“I’d risk it all for you,” he whispered. “Every last bit of it.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his. “But what if—”

“I’m not letting go,” Jeonghan cut in, voice firm. “Not unless you tell me to.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll fight for you — as long as you’ll let me.”

In that moment, all the fear, all the pressure, all the noise seemed to fade.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“We need something big,” Seungkwan declared, pacing the room like a man on a mission. “Something so distracting that no one’s talking about the scandal anymore.”

Mingyu’s face lit up. “What if we—”

“No,” Joshua interrupted. “No food fights. No pancake stunts. No chaos.”

“But—”

“Let’s go viral on purpose this time,” Seungkwan insisted.

“You mean… coordinated chaos?” Hoshi grinned.

“Exactly.”

Later That Day — Online

The internet didn’t know what hit it.

Mingyu live-streamed himself reading dramatic poetry while wearing sunglasses indoors. Seungkwan and Vernon posted a dance cover in dinosaur suits — with Dino chasing them in the background.

Then came Hoshi’s masterpiece — a staged “news interview” where he dramatically whispered into the camera:

“Breaking news: Jeonghan is still a menace to society. Please send thoughts and prayers.”

The hashtags shifted overnight.

The energy changed. Suddenly, people were laughing again — not at you, but with SEVENTEEN.

#BoycottY/N → #JeonghanMenace

#Y/NScandal → #DinoDanceChallenge

#JeonghanDatingScandal → #MingyuPoetryKing

A Few Days Later

You and Jeonghan sat side by side, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I think things are getting better,” you said softly.

“Because of those idiots,” Jeonghan chuckled.

You smiled — a real one this time.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you admitted. “But… I’m glad you’re still here.”

Jeonghan turned toward you, his gaze softening.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Not now… not ever.”

Then, with a smile so warm it made your heart skip a beat, he leaned in — pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

The message had been simple.

"Meet us at the practice room at 7 PM. Don’t be late."

You sighed, adjusting your mask as you entered Pledis. Lately, everything felt heavy — the constant whispers, the judgmental stares, the endless rumors. Even your own members seemed distant, their smiles feeling more forced than genuine.

So when Jeonghan’s text arrived, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe SEVENTEEN wanted to talk — or maybe they were just checking in. Either way, you didn’t expect much.

But the practice room was empty.

Confused, you noticed a small envelope taped to the mirror. Your name was scrawled across it in Jeonghan’s familiar handwriting.

“Follow the stars.”

Frowning, you stepped back into the hallway — only to see small glow-in-the-dark star stickers trailing along the floor.

The Performance

The stars led you to a different room — one of Pledis' larger rehearsal spaces. The lights were dim, but as soon as you stepped inside...

Music started playing.

"✨ Baby, baby, baby... ✨"

The soft, familiar tune of SEVENTEEN’s Adore U echoed through the room — and suddenly, Seungkwan burst through the door, dramatically clutching his chest like he was personally serenading you.

“I adore youuuu...” he sang loudly, spinning in slow motion as Vernon popped up beside him, striking an exaggerated pose.

Then came Hoshi — dancing like he was auditioning for Broadway. Joshua followed, holding a fake rose between his teeth. Dino dramatically slid across the floor as if this was some grand love confession.

It was ridiculous. It was chaotic.

And for the first time in days... you laughed.

“I know, I know... you're my angel...”

One by one, the members circled you — reaching out, pointing dramatically to you as the "star" of their performance. Jeonghan appeared last, grinning as he sang his part directly to you.

His gaze never left yours.

When the song ended, Mingyu shot you finger-hearts. “You’re welcome,” he teased.

“You guys are insane,” you laughed breathlessly.

“And you’re smiling again,” Jeonghan murmured beside you, voice softer now. “That’s all that matters.”

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

You followed him upstairs, your fingers brushing his as you walked side by side. The rooftop was quiet — but breathtaking.

Fairy lights were strung across the railing, glowing softly against the evening sky. A blanket was spread out beneath a cluster of pillows, and a small box sat beside a flickering candle.

“You did all this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Well… technically Mingyu nearly set the candles on fire, and Hoshi tried to hang the lights upside down,” Jeonghan chuckled. “But yeah... this was my idea.”

You sat down together, the soft hum of the city below filling the silence. For the first time in weeks, you felt calm — like the world outside couldn’t touch you here.

“I know things have been hard,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I hate that you’re carrying all this alone.”

“I just...” Your voice wavered. “I feel like I’m losing everything. My group, my career... I don’t even know if I belong here anymore.”

“You do belong here,” Jeonghan said firmly. He reached for the small box and placed it in your hand. “And you’ll never lose me.”

You opened the box — inside was a delicate silver bracelet, a tiny star charm dangling from the chain. Engraved on the charm were the words: "나의 별 (My Star)."

Your breath hitched. “Jeonghan…”

“You’ve always been my star,” he said softly. “Even when things feel dark... I just look for you, and somehow, I know I’ll be okay.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jeonghan smiled — warm, soft, yours.

“I love you, too.”

He leaned in slowly, brushing your hair back before pressing his lips to your forehead. His lips lingered there, soft and steady, before moving to kiss you — gentle at first, but deepening as you melted into him.

For the first time in weeks, the noise of the world faded away — leaving only the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms and the quiet rhythm of his heart against yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeonghan murmured against your lips. “I promise.”

And for the first time in a long while... you believed him.

The public’s reaction to the leaked voicemail felt like a storm finally shifting direction.

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company did this to her..." "She’s been working so hard, and they just threw her away??!" "#StayStrongY/N — you’ve got people who love you!!"

The tide was changing. Fans began flooding social media with messages of support. Edits of you smiling on stage resurfaced. Clips of Jeonghan sneaking glances at you during award shows went viral again — but this time, the captions were softer.

"He’s been in love with her all along... you can see it."

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

A Few Days Later — Outside a Café

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside, adjusting your mask. You’d been hesitant to go out lately, fearing judgment — but Jeonghan had encouraged you to step back into the world, even if just for a short walk.

“Excuse me…”

You froze. A soft, nervous voice called from behind you. Turning slowly, you saw a young girl — maybe fourteen — standing there, clutching her phone tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I just… I saw you, and I—”

You braced yourself for the worst.

“I just… I wanted to say…” Her voice shook. “I believe in you. And... I think you’re really amazing.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You… you do?”

She nodded quickly. “When I saw everything people were saying, I... I knew it wasn’t fair. You worked so hard, and you deserve to be happy.”

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “That… that means more than you know.”

The girl smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! Wait!” She dug through her bag, pulling out a small letter — folded neatly, your name written across the front.

“I wrote this,” she said shyly. “Just in case I ever got to meet you.”

Before you could even respond, she gave you a quick bow and hurried off down the street.

You stood frozen, clutching the letter to your chest — warmth spreading through you for the first time in what felt like forever.

The Next Day — Jeonghan’s Interview

“Hyung, are you sure about this?” Seungkwan asked, shifting nervously.

Jeonghan adjusted his mic, his expression calm but determined. “I have to.”

The interviewer greeted him with a polite smile, but the tension in the room was undeniable.

“So, Jeonghan… there’s been a lot of talk about you and Y/N recently. Would you like to address the rumors?”

Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I would.”

The room fell silent.

“I know a lot of people have opinions about this,” he began slowly. “And I get it — being an idol means people watch everything we do.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “But what hurts the most is how much Y/N’s suffered because of this.”

He looked directly at the camera now, voice stronger.

“She’s one of the hardest-working people I know,” Jeonghan said firmly. “She’s passionate, kind, and she’s given everything for her career. The hate she’s faced… it’s unfair.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his voice faltering for a moment.

“I care about her,” he continued softly. “A lot. And I’m not going to hide that.”

The interviewer’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting Jeonghan’s open confession.

“She’s been my friend, my biggest support... and the person I love,” Jeonghan finished. “If people want to blame me for that, fine. But please… stop hurting her.”

Hours Later — Online Reaction

"Jeonghan just openly confessed on live TV???" "I’m crying — he really said, 'She’s the person I love.' 💔" "This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen. #WeSupportJeonghan."

The hashtag #WeSupportJeonghan trended within hours. Support poured in from both SEVENTEEN’s and your fans.

For the first time in weeks, things felt... brighter.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re a legend, hyung,” Mingyu declared dramatically, tossing a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction.

“You’re lucky Pledis didn’t kill you,” Seungkwan added. “But honestly… worth it.”

“I figured we should celebrate,” Hoshi chimed in, holding up his phone. “Going live in 3… 2…”

“Wait, what—” Jeonghan started.

But it was too late.

SEVENTEEN’s Live Stream

“HELLOOOOO!” Hoshi yelled into the camera. “We’re here to talk about the true hero of today — Jeonghan the Romantic King!”

Mingyu grabbed a hairbrush, singing dramatically into it. “Jeonghan and Y/N, sitting in a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Hyung, confessing on live TV?” Seungkwan grinned. “We knew you were whipped, but this is a whole new level!”

“Enough, enough!” Jeonghan tried to grab Hoshi’s phone, but Mingyu tackled him before he could.

The comments flooded in instantly:

“OMG they’re so chaotic I can’t breathe.” “Mingyu STOP HAHAHA.” “I stan Jeonghan’s love story more than my own life.”

Amidst the chaos, Jeonghan finally gave up and laughed — a real, carefree laugh that echoed through the room.

And for the first time in what felt like forever… everything felt okay again.

The warmth from Jeonghan’s interview still lingered in your chest. His words — “She’s the person I love” — played in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

For the first time in weeks, the world felt softer — less suffocating. Fans were rallying behind you, Jeonghan’s members were your biggest cheerleaders, and you finally felt like you could breathe again.

But the moment of peace didn’t last long.

Two Days Later — Meeting Room at Your Agency

Your manager’s face was stone-cold. The tension in the room felt suffocating as your company’s CEO folded his hands on the desk.

“You need to cut ties with Jeonghan,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said firmly. “This scandal isn’t over yet, and now Jeonghan’s confession has made you both an even bigger target.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “We’re giving you two options — either publicly deny your relationship… or we pull you from your upcoming comeback.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re threatening to take away everything I’ve worked for?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” your manager snapped. “It’s for your own good.”

Your own good?

“You mean for your good,” you shot back. “Because now people know you tried to sideline me.”

“Think carefully, Y/N,” the CEO warned. “Jeonghan’s career will survive this. But yours?” He shook his head. “You don’t have the same luxury.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

The moment Jeonghan opened the door, you fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey…” His voice softened as his arms wrapped around you tightly. “What’s wrong?”

You buried your face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace breaking the dam you’d tried so hard to hold together.

“They’re forcing me to break up with you,” you choked out. “Or they’ll pull me from my group’s comeback.”

Jeonghan’s arms stiffened. “What?”

“They’re giving me two choices — either I deny everything, or they ruin my career.”

Jeonghan pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “We’ll fix this,” he promised. “I won’t let them hurt you like this.”

“But what if they—”

“I’m not losing you,” Jeonghan cut in, his voice firm. “Not after everything.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks, and the quiet comfort of his presence made your heart ache.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “I’m with you. Always.”

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re telling me they’re threatening her?” Seungkwan’s voice rose an octave. “That’s insane!”

“Hyung, this is serious,” Joshua said, pacing the room. “If Y/N’s company doesn’t back down…”

“We’re not letting them win,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I’ll talk to Pledis if I have to.”

“And if they try to keep you quiet?” Joshua asked.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened. “Then I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what they’re doing to her.”

“Hyung…” Seungkwan’s voice softened. “Are you sure? You’ve worked so hard to get here.”

“I know,” Jeonghan said quietly. “But she’s worth it.”

Later That Day — Social Media Erupts

Jeonghan’s next move wasn’t subtle.

@JeonghanOfficial "Love shouldn’t come with conditions. No one should have to choose between their career and their heart."

The post went viral in minutes.

“Is Jeonghan throwing shade at Y/N’s agency?” “He’s protecting her AGAIN I’M SOBBING.” “This man is fighting for her like it’s a K-drama.”

That Evening — Your Dorm

“Y/N.”

You froze when your manager stormed into your room, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t—”

“Jeonghan’s post is everywhere,” he snapped. “Now you’re both trending, and we’re getting flooded with press inquiries.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you shot back. “People are starting to see what you’re doing — and they’re not okay with it.”

Your manager’s expression twisted. “If you don’t fix this, you’re out.”

Hours Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm Rooftop

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose everything?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said softly, reaching for your hand.

“But if my company doesn’t back down…”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Jeonghan said firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

His fingers traced the bracelet he’d given you — the one engraved with 나의 별 (My Star).

“Remember what I told you?” he whispered. “You’re my star… no matter what happens, I’ll always find you.”

This time, when you leaned into him, you didn’t just feel comfort — you felt safe.

And for the first time in weeks, you believed that somehow… you’d both be okay.

The message came late at night.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification from your manager.

"You are no longer a member of the group. The company will release an official statement in the morning."

You stared at the message for a long time, your fingers trembling as you gripped the phone.

It was over.

The group you’d poured your heart and soul into — years of sleepless nights, endless rehearsals, and sacrifices — all taken away because you refused to let your love be a scandal.

Your phone slipped from your hand as you pressed your palms over your face. The tears came quickly, silent but unstoppable.

The Next Morning

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company actually kicked her out!" "She’s been with them since DAY ONE — and this is how they treat her??" "#BringBackY/N is trending worldwide OMG."

Fans flooded social media. Within hours, hashtags like #JusticeForY/N, #BringBackY/N, and #WeSupportJeonghan dominated the trending list.

Clips of you performing on stage resurfaced — moments where you sang with unwavering passion, moments where you pushed through exhaustion just to stand alongside your group. Fans remembered everything.

"If Y/N isn’t part of the next comeback, I’m DONE supporting this company." "We’re not buying a single album unless they bring her back!"

The boycott movement spread like wildfire — fanbases from other groups even voiced their support.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Have you seen this?” Joshua’s voice broke the silence, phone in hand. “The fans are seriously threatening to boycott.”

“It’s working,” Seungkwan muttered, scrolling through his feed. “Her company’s getting destroyed online.”

Jeonghan exhaled shakily. “I should be happy,” he said softly. “But none of this matters if she’s still hurting.”

“She’ll get through this,” Joshua reassured him. “You’ll get through this... together.”

A Few Hours Later — At Your Apartment

The pounding at your door startled you.

“Y/N!” Jeonghan’s voice rang out. “Please — just let me in.”

You hesitated, wiping your face before opening the door. The moment he saw you, Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I heard…” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew they’d do this,” you said quietly. “But it still... hurts.”

Jeonghan cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Everyone’s fighting for you right now — your fans, other idols... everyone.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I can’t go back.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because…” Your voice trembled. “Even if they let me back in the group, I’d be walking back into the same toxic environment. They never treated me well, Jeonghan.” You swallowed hard. “I can’t go back to a place that made me feel like I didn’t belong.”

Jeonghan’s grip on you tightened — not out of frustration, but out of understanding.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “You don’t owe them anything.”

“But the fans…” Your voice faltered. “I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’re not letting them down,” Jeonghan reassured you. “They’re fighting for you because they love you — not because they want you to suffer.”

His fingers found the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm shining softly in the light.

“You deserve better,” Jeonghan murmured. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

You felt yourself break down, falling into his chest as the weight of everything finally caught up with you. His arms held you tightly, like he was trying to piece you back together.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair. “For choosing yourself... for being strong.”

For the first time in weeks, you believed it.

Days Later — A Surprise Statement from SEVENTEEN

Jeonghan’s agency broke the silence with an unexpected announcement.

"Jeonghan will be stepping back from activities for the time being to support Y/N during this difficult time. We ask for your understanding."

The fans erupted with mixed emotions — some worried, others praising Jeonghan’s unwavering loyalty.

But the loudest voices? The ones demanding your former company be held accountable.

"This isn’t over until Y/N gets the respect she deserves." "Even if she doesn’t go back to the group — we’ll support her no matter what." "We’re with you, Y/N — always."

For the first time in weeks, the noise didn’t feel so loud anymore.

Instead, it felt like a chorus of voices — not shouting against you, but standing with you.

And when Jeonghan reached for your hand, his fingers lacing tightly with yours, you knew that somehow… you’d both make it through this.

The days following Jeonghan’s statement felt like a blur. Messages of love poured in from fans, old friends, and even strangers. Despite the warmth, a lingering emptiness clung to you — a hollow reminder of the career you’d spent years building, now gone.

You knew walking away from your group was the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Three Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed at his phone screen.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Seungkwan asked, noticing the tension in his face.

“Look at this.” Jeonghan handed him the phone. An article was spreading online — an exclusive interview featuring a former idol from your company.

[EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: Former Idol Speaks Out Against Agency’s Mistreatment]

"I saw it firsthand," the idol confessed. "They treated Y/N horribly behind the scenes — constantly blaming her if things went wrong. The managers pressured her to hide injuries and pushed her harder than anyone else."

"And after the dating scandal? They deliberately sabotaged her — cutting her lines, pulling her from promotions, and forcing her to take the blame for something she didn’t even do wrong."

"Y/N’s been through so much… and she didn’t deserve any of it."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “Wait… they cut her lines?”

“I knew they treated her badly,” Jeonghan muttered, “but this?”

“It’s not just her fans now,” Seungkwan said, scrolling through comments. “People are furious.”

"Y/N’s company better apologize — this is disgusting." "She was dealing with this and a dating scandal? She’s stronger than I’ll ever be." "#JusticeForY/N — we’re still here for you."

Later That Evening — Your Apartment

“Did you see the interview?” Jeonghan asked softly, sitting beside you on the couch.

You nodded. “I can’t believe they said all that. I thought... no one knew what was happening.”

“People know now,” Jeonghan said firmly. “And they’re fighting for you.”

You offered a small smile, but doubt lingered in your eyes. “It’s just… what am I supposed to do now?”

“You still love music,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I know you do.”

You sighed, fingers tracing the charm on your bracelet — the tiny star that had become your comfort.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“You don’t have to.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, reaching into his pocket. “Because I already figured that out for you.”

He handed you a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you asked warily.

“Just… trust me,” he said with a grin.

The Next Day — Surprise at Pledis Studio

When Jeonghan brought you to Pledis, you felt your stomach twist.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you mumbled, anxiety creeping in.

“You can,” Jeonghan said firmly, squeezing your hand. “Just trust me.”

He led you to a practice room — but when the door opened, you froze.

Inside, SEVENTEEN’s members stood scattered across the room — some with instruments, others by microphones. Hoshi grinned from behind a speaker, while Woozi stood by the keyboard, adjusting sound levels.

“What… is this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Your new beginning,” Jeonghan said proudly.

“We’re helping you record a song,” Joshua explained, stepping forward. “Woozi’s been working on a track for you.”

“You’re… serious?” Your voice shook.

“Of course we are!” Hoshi beamed. “This is your comeback — your real one.”

“We believe in you,” Woozi added quietly. “And I know this won’t fix everything… but it’s a start.”

You blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” Jeonghan said softly, his eyes warm and full of quiet encouragement.

And so you did.

Hours Later — Inside the Recording Booth

Your hands shook slightly as you put on the headphones. The melody started — soft, comforting, yet powerful.

Woozi’s voice came through the speaker. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and sang — quietly at first, then louder as the music swelled.

The emotions poured out — the hurt, the fear, the heartbreak... but also hope. A flicker of strength you didn’t know you still had.

When you finished, you turned to the glass where Jeonghan stood, watching proudly. He gave you a small thumbs-up — his smile warm and full of love.

For the first time in weeks… you felt like yourself again.

Two Weeks Later — Online Reaction

The song — “Unfinished Star” — was released quietly, but it didn’t take long for fans to find it.

"Y/N’s voice sounds even more powerful than before. I’m crying." "She’s back... stronger than ever." "We’ve been waiting for this, Y/N — we never stopped believing in you."

The overwhelming support washed over you, filling the void you once feared would never heal.

And as you scrolled through the comments, Jeonghan’s voice echoed in your mind:

"You’re my star... no matter what happens, I’ll always find you."

You smiled, clutching your phone tightly.

He had found you — and this time, you knew you weren’t shining alone.

The success of Unfinished Star took you by surprise.

In just a few days, the track had climbed the charts — not just because of SEVENTEEN’s involvement, but because fans believed in you. Their comments flooded every platform:

"Y/N’s voice has always been amazing — now the world’s finally listening." "Her emotions hit so hard… I’m so proud of her." "She doesn’t need her old group — she’s a star on her own."

But for every supportive message, there was still noise from your former company.

At Your Former Agency’s Office

“Are you sure we can spin this?” your former manager asked, pacing the room.

The CEO scowled, reading the latest headlines.

"Y/N’s Emotional Return Shines Brighter Than Ever!" "Ex-Idol’s Comeback Outshines Her Former Group’s Promotions."

“She’s gaining sympathy,” the CEO muttered. “And sympathy sells.”

“What if we… I don’t know… claim the song was ours?” your manager suggested.

The CEO’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll say we supported her from the start. Flip the narrative — make it sound like we encouraged her to pursue solo activities.”

“But that’s a lie,” your manager said cautiously.

The CEO smirked. “It doesn’t have to be true — it just has to look true.”

Later That Day — Online Statement from Your Former Agency

"We are proud to have supported Y/N throughout her journey. Her recent success is a reflection of the dedication we nurtured during her time in our company. We look forward to celebrating her continued achievements."

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands.

“They’re really trying to twist this?” you muttered under your breath.

Before you could even process the betrayal, your phone buzzed again — this time from Jeonghan.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I can’t believe they’re doing this,” Jeonghan muttered angrily, pacing back and forth. “They’re acting like they didn’t kick you out!”

“I should just ignore it,” you said quietly, still processing the statement. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

“You don’t have to ignore it,” Joshua said firmly. “They’re taking credit for everything you did on your own.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “You deserve to speak up.”

Jeonghan stopped pacing, turning to you. “If you’re ready… we’ll help you.”

The Next Morning — Your Statement

With Jeonghan beside you, you started the live stream.

“I didn’t plan to say anything,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “But I can’t stay silent anymore.”

You took a deep breath, feeling Jeonghan’s quiet presence beside you.

“My former agency claims they supported me through this,” you said slowly. “But the truth is… they didn’t.”

Your fingers gripped the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm grounding you.

“They cut me from performances. They isolated me from my group. And when I refused to deny my relationship with Jeonghan, they forced me out completely.”

Pausing, you swallowed hard, feeling your emotions build.

“But despite everything… I’m still here. I’m still singing because of the people who believed in me — my fans, my friends… and Jeonghan.”

You turned to him briefly, and his warm smile gave you the courage to finish.

“I won’t let anyone rewrite my story,” you said firmly. “Because this is only the beginning.”

A Few Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Concert

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said, tugging your hand as the concert neared its end.

“Wait, what?” you stammered. “Where are we—”

Before you could protest, you were backstage — and SEVENTEEN’s encore had just begun.

“We’ve got one more surprise,” Seungkwan announced, his voice echoing through the venue.

Your heart stopped as Jeonghan took your hand and led you on stage.

The crowd erupted in cheers — deafening, overwhelming, yet so full of love.

“Everyone!” Jeonghan shouted into his mic. “This star right here?” He turned to you with a smile. “She’s been through so much… but she never gave up.”

The cheers grew louder.

“You believed in her when no one else did,” Jeonghan continued. “And because of you… she’s back where she belongs.”

He gave your hand one final squeeze before stepping aside — motioning for you to take the mic.

The crowd went quiet.

And then… you sang.

Later That Night — Backstage

“You did it,” Jeonghan murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We did it,” you corrected, smiling softly.

“You know…” Jeonghan smirked. “I still remember the first time I saw you on stage. I knew back then you were something special.”

“You’re just saying that,” you teased.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “Back then… you were just my crush.” He leaned in closer, voice low. “But now? You’re the love of my life.”

The warmth in his eyes stole your breath away.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” Jeonghan smiled, his fingers gently tracing the bracelet on your wrist.

“You’re still my star,” he murmured. “And no one’s ever going to dim your light again.”

[pexrlygxte]

"far away from the stench of the heavens.."

masc yan demon (oc) x ftm angel reader. nsfw, ageless + minor blogs dni. cw for belly bulge, size kink, hypnotism, creampie, noncon-ish. feminine anatomy terms are used, please ignore if you do not like that.

kaisarion's life was,, ngl, kinda dull before he met you. a sweet little angel, only doing what your father told you to do,,, fuck, did he immediately get hard when he heard your soft voice echoing in his ears

"c'mon, little angel. i won't hurt you." he cooes so sweetly, acting like a stupid little human to get his cock deep in your little boycunt,,,, you fell for it pretty quickly when he ended up drugging you with a drop of his blood. oh, sweet angel,, didn't you know that demon blood was a vice for your kind? didn't you know that unless the demon was dead, you'd be under his control? no? :( oh, you poor thing,,, should have done your research, huh,,,

kaisarion is soooo happy to have his little angel darling under his thumb :( cooing sweet things as his cock fucks into your broken pussy,, makin' fun of you too, since you're too dumb under his hypnotic spell to know any different,,

"sweet little angel boy. don't even know i'm fucking you right now, don't you?" he'd laugh against you, listening to your moans as he rubs his free hand over the bump in your belly,,, "so stupid for me. mm, should keep you like this, just my stupid little cocksleeve." of course, you wouldn't know better, only ever pulled out of that hypnotic state by your capt- boyfriend- who was like,, three times your size,,, not knowing why your tummy feels so warm and your body feels fuzzy, his warm hands and his wings around you distracting you from the fact he'd pumped you so full that his void-black cum was oozing from your broken pussy :(

●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●☆●

sorry if this is awful btw.. i'm having mental issues and this came to my brain w/ a dnd oc i have and.. kaisarion my beloved

donec iterum conveniant, 🩸 mod perpetua

[trashytracktales]

being on your profile while ovulating IS NOT GOOD. NOT GOOD.

btw i completely agree with youuuu on lando being both a tease and a softdom at the same time !!! and can we talk about how he LOVES giving instructions and PRAISE when things go the way he wants???? he’d be flooding you with “good girl” all over. i’m just sure of it. he does it all the time. and validation??? he wants to be recognized!!! he wants to be praised. And the “slow and hard” from the youtube video with AngryGinge and Fifa !!! he just loves to voice out what he wants and get it!!

thank you for coming to my ted talk my god someone pls shut me up. please.

🎀 OH, YES GOOD. YOU'RE JUST A GIRL 🎀

Don’t even get me started on slow and hard, that phrase has lived rent-free in my brain for months now. I’ll be sitting in complete silence, minding my own business, only to randomly hear it echoing in the back of my head in the middle of the day. I’m haunted.

But yes, let's talk about how perfectly he fits into that dynamic. I can see Lando's eyes flickering with pride every time you do exactly what he asks, like your obedience is his personal victory. And the way he’d also need validation? GUYS! It’s not optional. He’d absolutely crave hearing you gasp his name, telling him how good he makes you feel (tbf, who wouldn't?) But if you don’t? Well, there’s that teasing streak again — he’s pausing, making you beg for him to continue, just so he can remind you who’s in charge. The audacity smh ✋🏻😒

At the same time, I feel like with Lando, giving instructions isn’t just about control, though. He wants to guide you, praise you, own every little reaction. And you just know that after completely wrecking you, he’d wear the most self-satisfied grin, pulling you into his chest like, I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?

*sigh* Lando... when I catch you, Lando...

Someone should shut us both up at this point (they can't 😛).

[akamitrani]

— Backstage Pass —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader (Pt.1?)

Warnings: Mild suggestive, flirting (and the massive amount of tension that comes with it), release of the tension, slow burn.

Summary: You manage to get backstage access to a Terrifier panel where David is present, you end up striking a conversation with him and one thing leads to another.

[A/N: Hi guys, this is my first ever published fanfic – Be kind ☠️ – Sorry if anything lol. Btw, I hope y'all like to read fr cuz this fanfic surely is for readers]

[ · · · ]

The low hum of the convention floor buzzed around you, but for the moment, it felt as though the world had quieted down. You stood backstage, just outside the makeshift white room where David was preparing for a panel at the horror convention. Your excitement of meeting the actor behind Art the Clown was palpable, it was the man himself – the warm, approachable, and genuine David

You had spent the better part of the day anxiously navigating your way through autograph lines, fan meet-and-greets and photo ops, but now, standing backstage, you had a rare chance to speak with him outside the chaos. You never expected an encounter like this but here you were, a quiet moment with the very man who had terrified and fascinated you all at once

David’s head peeked from behind the curtains, his bright blue eyes meeting yours – “Hey! You’re the one who was talking about makeup techniques earlier, right?” – his voice had a casual charm, free of any of the sinister vibes Art was known for

You nodded, a bit stunned that he’d even remembered you from earlier in the day – “I'm Y/N by the way... And yeah, I’m just starting to get into prosthetics, but I love how the horror community brings so many elements together”

He smiled, a grin that reached his eyes and softened the sharpness of his features – “Y/N. And oh I totally get that. There’s something about horror that feels like a puzzle, you know? Acting, makeup, lighting… everything needs to come together for the whole thing to work”

It felt like a small moment of mutual understanding, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to his enthusiasm. Here was David, the man behind the terrifying clown, speaking with such openness.

“So...” – David said after a beat, his tone playful – “what’s your favorite kind of horror?”

“It’s a toss-up but I’d say psychological horror, something that messes with your mind, makes you question what’s real” – You said

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious for a moment – “Yeah, that kind of horror is powerful. But I have to admit, sometimes I miss just making people jump... It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me”

You laughed loud, the sound echoing through the quiet backstage space – “I bet! It’s a great feeling though, knowing you can make people react like that”

David’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint appearing – “Well... I think we’ve got some time for a little more talking, but it’s not going to be quieter once the panel starts, I'll eventually get busy... You’re sticking around, right?”

You hesitated, the pull of curiosity and excitement making you eager to continue the conversation – “Of course! After the panel, would you like to talk more? What about... Grabbing a drink?”

David raised an eyebrow, the playful smile tugging at his lips again – “Perfect, was just thinking the same thing. And I could definitely use a quiet moment away from the crowd... There's a nice café nearby, just behind the building”

You felt a jolt of anticipation. This was no longer just a fan encounter. The conversation had shifted from polite exchanges to something more personal, a subtle invitation hanging in the air

“Perfect!” – You replied, feeling your nerves melt away – “See you there then”

“I'll be there as soon as the panel is finished" – He replied

[ · · · ]

sorry but I don't have the patience

to write a 'in between' lol

You entered the café David mentioned about earlier, the ambiance was calm as expected. Dave was already there tucked in a corner booth, his eyes eventually meet yours and he sweetly waves at you. Walking in his direction you sat down, wasting no time to start chatting. David had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, leaning slightly forward, completely engrossed in the story you were telling him

“And that’s when I realized..." – you laughed, glancing down in embarrassment – “I’d been talking to the director with fake blood still smeared all across my cheek!”

David chuckled – “You’d fit right in on a horror set with a story like that” – he said, tilting his head with that trademark playful smile – “Sounds like you were born for the genre”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, not just from the flattery but from the way he looked at you — as if you two were the only people in the room. For someone who could be so chillingly silent in his role as Art, David had an openness and kindness that made you feel immediately at ease

Both of you shared another laugh, you noticed his fingers drumming gently against the ceramic cup, a little habit he seemed unaware of. The small, endearing detail felt so far removed from the menacing persona he played on screen. In that moment, you wondered how many people really got to see him this way, relaxed and unguarded

“So” – David said, breaking the silence – “I have to ask... why horror? Why would you willingly choose a field that involves blood, guts, and a thousand ways to terrify an audience?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering an answer – “I think it’s the honesty of it... Horror doesn’t hide from what people fear. It embraces it. And creating that… It’s almost like a dance between knowing what scares people and making them feel safe enough to face it. It’s–”

“Powerful” David finished for you, a look of understanding in his eyes – “Yeah. I think I know what you mean” – he paused – “That’s exactly what draws me to it. There’s something about the way people’s walls come down when they’re scared. You can see who they really are”

Your eyes met with his, a silence settled between you and him, charged with something unspoken. You felt a flutter of nervous excitement, this was David Howard Thornton, a master of horror, sharing his personal thoughts with you as if you were an old friend

“Hey-” – David’s voice softened, breaking the tension – “I just realized how late it’s getting. But honestly…” – He glanced down, almost shyly, before looking back up with a small grin – “I don't want this conversation to end just yet”

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, you feel your heart skip – “Me neither...”

He hesitated, then gave a casual shrug – “I have a bottle of wine back at my hotel...” – he said with a hint of playful mischief – “If you’re up for it, we could keep talking there... No pressure though — I promise I’m far less terrifying off the set”

You both laughed, but you felt a thrill run through your body. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but the invitation in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, left little room for doubt

“Well...” – you said, mirroring his grin – “as long as you leave the clown mask behind”

David let out a low, warm chuckle and reached out, his hand brushing against yours just briefly – “Deal.”

[ · · · ]

at the hotel

The elevator doors slid open, then shut with a soft thud – the hum of the machine filled the otherwise quiet space between you both. David stood closer, his presence palpable as the two of you ascended to the upper floors. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the subtle hint of his musky cologne, the faint rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly

The tension from the café was still there – unspoken, but thick. You could both feel it in the air, like an electric charge that had been building ever since the moment you'd first exchanged words. But now, in this small quiet space, it was almost impossible to ignore

David caught your eye, a soft smirk playing at the corner of his mouth – “I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s nice to get away from the madness for a bit you know”

You nodded but you could feel your heart rate picking up, the proximity between you and him making your thoughts scatter – “Yeah, it’s… really nice” – your voice sounded quieter than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he is standing, how his shoulder brushed against yours every so often

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at David’s floor, you both stepped out. David led the way to his room, his long strides confident, though there was a subtle energy about him – something different than the actor you’d seen on stage. The man before them now seemed grounded, a little more vulnerable, but still just as captivating

As you two reached the door, David turned to you with a quiet smile – “Make yourself at home” – he said, pushing the door open and holding it for you to enter. The room was cozy, warmly lit

You stepped in, the scent of fresh linen and something faintly musky lingering in the air, his cologne you thought. You took a moment to glance around but David was already moving toward the small bar area by the window, pouring two glasses of wine

“Care for something?” – he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes

“Sure, why not?” – You replied, voice a little breathless. It was hard to focus on anything other than the man before you, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. It was a strange mix of charm and allure, the kind of presence that seemed to draw people in without effort

David handed you the glass, his fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. His touch lingered, and you both looked up at the same time, locking eyes. There was something in his gaze – soft yet intense.

“Cheers” – he murmured lifting his own glass, clinking your drinks together

The conversation flowed easily at first, light and casual, but the air felt heavier now. David shifted slightly, moving a little closer as he leaned against the back of a chair, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite.

You set your drink down on the table, feeling a quiet tension building – “You know... I never thought I’d end up in a hotel room with someone like you”

David raised an eyebrow – “Someone like me?”

You laughed softly, a little nervous – “Yeah, someone so… different from Art”

David’s smile deepened, and he moved a fraction closer – “I think I’m a little more like Art than you realize” – he teased, there was a softness in his voice and a hint of something else, something that wasn’t just playful

“I don’t know…” – your voice faltering for a moment – “M-maybe you’re right”

David didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze darkened just slightly, his focus never wavering. He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the best way

“You know Y/N” he said quietly, almost a whisper – “I’m glad you stayed”

[···]

The silence between you both thickened, hanging in the air. David's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as though he was considering something. Drawn to the warmth of his presence, you got closer. David didn't move away. Instead, he stood perfectly still, giving you space to decide what to do next. A quiet hunger in the way he looked at you.

“I dont want to rush this” – David said softly, voice low and deliberate – “But, I can't pretend I'm not completely drawn to you”

You reached up, fingers brushing against his arm, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. David inhaled sharply, his body tensing just a bit at the contact.

“Are you sure?” – he whispered, his hand reached out, fingers barely grazing the edge of your wrist. You nodded, voice barely above a breath – “Yeah, I'm sure.”

David's hand gently cupped the side of your face, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw – savoring every second. David's face was so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first. His hands slid down, pulling you closer. He grabs your waist hard and you accidentally let out a small moan... That's when he finally kisses you, letting out a low whimper himself. The kiss gets deeper, sucking and biting. You respond instinctively, fingers threading through his gray hair, drawing him in as the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

You break the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, foreheads resting against each other and trying to collect yourselves. This had been building all night, ready to break.

“You're incredible” – David murmured, his voice thick with desire

You met his gaze – “I can say the same about you”

“I've wanted this all night” – He confessed

David's hands slid down your back, guiding you firmly towards him, towards his thighs. Now straddling him, your fingers tightened in his hair as his hands moved, exploring the curves of your waist, savoring every detail about it. His hands slid down your dress, up your thighs and finally resting on the hem of your panties... His eyes pledged for yours, for assurance – You nodded

“You're not going to regret this” he whispered

[darkredsugarcookie]

A Void of His Own - Thunderbolts* Bucky oneshot

Author's note: HI HUNNY BUNNIES so most of you are from tiktok for this one, which if you are, welcome! feel free to stick around! I saw thunderbolts last night and could not stop thinking about this. This really fits listening to house in nebraska and inbred by ethel cain btw. please read all the warning and let me know what you think! xx

Warnings: violence, gore, suicidal ideation, alluding to SA as well as the aftermath

I had expected it to hurt. 

It didn’t hurt. It felt like waking up from a nightmare, my heart still thumping in my chest hard enough that it shook my ribs. 

Snow crunched under my weight as I pushed myself up, blinking flakes from my eyes. I didn’t recognize it at first. Not by looking around. But I lowered myself a bit, looked up through the dry and bare trees and it hit like a bullet to the chest a second before I heard the sobs coming from the clearing. 

It was hardly a clearing. It was more of a bare section of woodland since my body broke the branches on the way down. 

My breath came heavy and it took a moment for me to reel it in, to focus. I had to focus. I took a step forward. Another. 

I stared at the body lying there in the snow— my body lying there in the snow. What remained of my left arm was in bloody shreds. Useless. I could remember the pain like it was yesterday. I watched as the blood stained the snow more red, tainting it more with every second.

God, that kid lying in the snow who’d only wanted to go home to Brooklyn. I had half a mind to comfort him. To kneel beside the body of my younger self and tell him it was okay— to just hang on for a decade or seven and it would get better. It’d never be as good as it once was, but it would be better than this and what was to come.

The sobs echoed off the walls of the valley as I watched the fingers of my right arm reach for the marred flesh of the left. The whir of metal fingers digging into the bark of the tree I was leaning against brought me back to where I was. 

I dragged in a breath, the feelings making my lungs burn. 

Twigs snapped, alerting footsteps. That body in front of me cried out for help. I remembered how raw my throat had felt. The image of Steve’s face as my hand had slipped played over and over in my head. The way he had hidden his face against the metal of the train car to avoid watching. 

I was always glad my final look at him was knowing he hadn’t seen me hit the ground. He didn’t deserve to see that. 

Grumbles of Russian floating up from the other side of the clearing and I ducked behind a tree, squeezing my eyes shut. Being here now, I understood it all. 

“That’s one way to get him back.”

“Not a total waste.”

“As long as he’s breathing and not another body to leave behind. He’s no use if he’s dead.”

With my heart in my throat, I leaned around the trunk of the birch to watch. The way that… boy of who I was cried for help... I had learned quickly that there was no point in that. But he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know anything yet. 

I watched panic creep into that old body of mine when the voices grew louder— when the patches on their arms were visible. The same patches of the men that had taken me only weeks earlier. 

Ropes were strung under and around an already almost lifeless body, my weight leaving a smear of blood in the snow. I felt my eyes start to sting as I watched those soldiers converse like nothing. Like this wasn’t the start of everything ending for me. 

My breath escaped me in a rush as I stepped out from the tree, the gun in my hand like the weight of the world as I aimed it at the back of their heads. I was shaking, but my aim was steady. 

And the second I pulled the trigger, I was right back where I’d been— lying back in the snow, sobs echoing off the valley walls. Like that movie Sam had made me watch— groundhog something.

Come on. 

There had to be a way out of here. 

“Yelena? Bob!” I called, turning in circles. It was a maze. I didn’t know how to navigate this forest. I didn’t know what to do.

I paused and took a breath, shaking those Russian words from my head. What would Steve do? 

“What would Steve do?” I asked myself quietly. 

I started running. I’d find the end of this eventually right? A river, a door, someone, something. 

Until I hit a wall hard enough that it had me stumbling back. A continuation of the trees, the sky, the ground… 

I flexed the metal fingers of my left arm and drove my fist through the wall. It crumbled enough for me to body through it and stumble into a damp smelling alleyway. 

Brooklyn. I’d know that smell anywhere. 

I also knew this scene. The sun overhead, the music coming from downtown, the voices floating down the alley. The second I saw her, I just… stopped. 

“I wasn’t even- even doing anything,” Rebecca cried, wiping her cheeks as she tried to stifle tears. 

“I know you weren’t, Becca,” I whispered in time with sixteen year old me as he knelt in front of her to inspect her skinned knees. 

“These things happen when people don’t understand who you are,” he said to her. I hadn’t realized it then, but now, watching like this, she took a deep breath after she saw me do the same thing. 

“People are mean,” she said, wiping her hands on her blue dress. God, she wore the life out of that dress. 

“Yeah, they are.” My eyes flashed up as I watched Steve veer around the corner exclaiming, “I found it! I got it!” 

Oh, Steve…

The blonde shoved a first aid kit into my sixteen year old hands and struggled to push himself up on the pallets to sit beside Becca. 

“Is this how you feel?” she asked, which made me smile a little. She was witty. So smart and funny. 

“Yes, actually,” Steve said, turning up his chin as I watched my younger self press a bandage to Rebecca’s knee. “Buck and I’ll teach those guys a lesson.”

“Uh, no,” my younger self told him. “I’ll go talk to them. You stay here.” “Because I’m not strong enough,” Steve said, giving me a bored look. 

“No. Because you’re one of my two weaknesses. Just stay put.” 

I moved closer, watching the three of them. The three of us. 

Becca climbed down and wrapped her arms around my younger self’s middle. I stood so close, wishing I could stop it here. Just leave it. Keep this, right here. I rested my hand on the back of her head as I crouched to look at her face, tucked against his chest. I pressed a kiss to her head and the next moment it was gone. 

I whipped around, suddenly standing in my old kitchen. 

“You what?” Rebecca said, the book in her hand falling to the table as she shoved away from her seat and ran over. 

She reached for the envelope and I watched my twenty three year old self hold it out her reach. “Becca—” 

“They finally got you?” she bit out, her blue eyes welling with tears. “Bucky, please say I’m wrong…” 

“I…”

“Please,” she whispered. 

“I’m sorry, Beck.” 

I reached for her, but my fingers met dust. Dust that looked too familiar and made me take a step back. But I tripped over a step and landed hard on my back, the smell of the molding concrete cell like acid to my nervous system. 

The cold cement bit into my skin and I just knew what I’d find when I turned around. This cell— this one was specific. It only had one purpose and suddenly I really didn’t want to be here anymore. I was done. I felt my stomach roil as I watched the woman fasten the button of her jeans back into place and just… leave. I knew her. I saw her often in my nightmares, or anytime there was too much physical contact that wasn’t ill intended. 

My eyes followed her out as my skin buzzed with the memory of the contact. I pushed myself to my knees, the sound of heavy breathing from behind me making my chest tight. 

Every movement was slow— like it was through some sort of gelatin, my fingers reaching for the muslin blanket in the corner, it was stained and torn, but it was better than nothing. 

I steeled myself before I turned around and came face to face with a version of myself I told no one about. Everyone knew about the violence. They knew about the killing and the torture that drew blood. They never bothered to think about the kind that didn’t. 

I laid the blanket over the bare lap of the man I’d been so long ago, a hard weight dropping into my stomach as the chains restraining his wrists clattered against the wall. Those eyes… 

They were mine, but… lifeless. Like there was nothing left in them. 

Footsteps sounded down the hall. Again. Someone new. 

“No.” A small breath of the word escaped me as my eyes burned and I squeezed them shut. “Enough.” This one was random. Couldn’t place her if you asked. But she warmed up quickly and what caught me off guard was when her fingers traced the ribs of the body in front of me, I felt it. 

I felt it. 

“No,” I said again, shaking my head as my feet dragged me away, my back hitting the wall. “No.” 

I felt it again, hands drifted, a warmth against my neck. 

“Stop—” 

I turned, facing the wall that had suddenly turned into glass. 

I saw the blonde just in the next room, my breath stuttering. “Yelena!” I called, but she didn’t turn. Didn’t react at all. She was in a bathroom, staring at a mirror. 

My brain turned and turned before I took out the gun tucked into my belt. Two shots through the glass before I bodied through it, the glass shattering. 

But it went dark. 

People appeared in front of me, every single one of them, a face that had haunted me for years. My heart was hammering in my ears, my skin cold as darkness wrapped the place, faces of every person I’d killed as him appearing in front of me, their hands reaching. 

Grasping. Pulling. 

I tried to shove them off, but they were deathly cold, gripping into my skin as I pulled and shoved, but nothing. It was like it didn’t matter. All that echoed through my head was their cries, the pleas for mercy before I’d pulled the trigger. 

I was panting, my body buzzing as I tried to shove the cold hands that touched every inch of me away. It felt like I couldn’t see, couldn’t think. 

It all collided at once. Everything that had ever been done to me— it crowded my mind like I would never escape it. I couldn’t breathe. 

I thought of everyone I’d lost, everyone I’d loved so desperately just for them to be ripped from me.

My parents.

Rebecca. 

Steve.

Sam. 

It was all swirling and spinning and I couldn’t breathe until suddenly, I pushed past another body. And another. 

Then I broke into… quiet. 

I stumbled, my boots thudding on the hardwood floor as I took in the space, the sunlight, the wallpaper. 

When I turned around, a breath of relief escaped me as I saw the other. “Are you guys okay?” I asked, moving towards the center of the room. 

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, eyes fixed on me. 

I want my sister. I miss my best friend. 

I should’ve died young.

“Me?” I said, brushing it off. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve got a great past, so I’m totally fine.”

[mx-pastelwriting]

Unreleased | Sex Tape Part 2

BRUCE BANNER X GN! READER

SUMMARY: Theres a rumor going around you and Bruce have a sex tape. WARNINGS/TAGS: Mention of Smut, Sex Tape, Rumors, Snooping, The Avengers watch your Sex Tape

A/N: Thank you so much to @ya-boi-v for the comment idea that furthered this kinktober prompt! (Love the username btw)

PART 1

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Bruce's soft lips mixed against yours while standing between your legs while sitting on his lab desk. Feeling as his hands grabbed at every inch of skin, needing every bit of you. As your hands traveled down, Bruce resisted breaking the heated moment. "I have a meeting in a few minutes," he says, catching his breath while looking around him.

Watching as he patted his pockets, then looking at you, "Have you seen my phone?" He asks. "No, are you sure you had it with you?" You ask, but he doesn't respond, only taking off out of the lab looking worried.

Following his hurried path leading you into the cafeteria with laughs that only got louder entering, seeing as Bruce stopped in front of the rest of the Avengers and some others who looked down at a phone laughed and looked shocked. Then noticing you both.

"Here's the cameraman himself," Tony says, making the rest look up, eyes popping out of their heads, watching as they quickly put down the phone, only hearing what was playing before powering off. A familiar cry of Bruce's name.

Feeling as your face burned, connecting the dots, your sex tape. They were watching your sex tape.

"Look, Bruce, we're sorry, Tony had said-" Bruce interrupted Steve as he tried to put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "So because of what Tony said, you thought you'd look through my phone!" He says loudly, echoing off the cafeteria walls, making everyone go quiet.

"No. We're sorry," Steve says again. "You're sorry for watching our intimate moment! Embarrassing them, showing it to everyone here!" He snaps, his shouts louder, with his skin slowly turning green as he defends you.

Some looked to you to give him comfort, but you did nothing while watching as they scrabbled to stop the big guy from destroying the place. Turning to walk out feeling like shit, with a little part of you feeling protected from Bruce's words.

Hearing as Hulk yelled from the other side of the door, feeling good as you gave them a different kind of 'fuck you' than the one they had seen a few minutes ago for them to deal with.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

Part 1 Taglist: @k3nmakyan @delusional-13s-blog @memphiscity69 @xo-c0nnie @scryi @zoexme Here's part 2!

[0310s]

gently, by your side | jaehyun

members: myung jaehyun x gender neutral reader

genre: college au, angst, comfort, best friends! to ???, more platonic stuff in this one

tags/warnings: extensive discussions of mental health and chronic/mental illness, y/n is not okay. :(

summary: jaehyun finds you after a bad week.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this fic’s title comes from this lovely song. as someone who’s struggled with both chronic and mental illness, it really takes someone strong and amazing to keep on going, despite everything. most of the dialogue in this comes from my own musings and experiences with mental health. i wrote this for a dear mutual of mine! i hope better days will come for you soon, whenever that may be. meanwhile, i hope this gives you comfort when things are tough! sending lots of love <3 

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

5 days ago 1:28 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

(y/n) we haven’t seen each other in such a loooong time imy :(( i mean i KNOW it’s just been a couple of days since we last hung out but still!!!!!!! when are we seeing each other again !!!! tell me ur schedule QUICK !!!!

4 days ago 6:33 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeeyyyyyyyyy (with the intention to hang out) heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy reply to meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!! tell me when ur free pls i miss u :((

3 days ago 11:58 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

hey i didn’t see u at the party today i thought u said u were going last week!!!  also i asked around and people said they haven’t seen u around recently??? and they don’t know what ur up to

2 days ago 2:05 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeyyyy ?????????? did i do smth?????  or are u just really busy w school and work idk either way pls just let me know :(( i won’t bother u if ur rlllyyy busy

10:35 PM sorry if i’m being annoying btw

Yesterday  11:32 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

ok i thought about it reaaaaaallly hard and i don’t think i’ve done anything to make u mad or upset w me??? well aside from that time last last week that u got mad at me for accidentally messing w ur computer and deleting ur work files WHICH IM LIKE REALLY SORRY FOR but i fixed it!!!!! i thought we were good alrd!!! are u still mad at me 4 that ?

1:00 AM (y/n)?

1:28 AM idk  i thought i was ur best friend :(( did smth change???

2:47 AM pls pls reply :(( i know we can talk this out i don’t want us to not be ok

Today  3:00 PM 🐶 cutie puppy i’m coming over.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

Sitting up from your bed, your heart thuds in anxiety as you quickly scroll through your chat history with Jaehyun. Your eyes hurt and your brain feels especially foggy, like you’re looking at the world through a particularly cloudy lens. How long did you sleep? The last thing you recall was working on your assignments last night, then choosing to sleep instead when you got overwhelmed. Even then, you slept fitfully. You remember setting an alarm at 9 AM today to continue working, but even as you sat at your desk, you couldn’t type a single sentence on your laptop. Everything felt muddled and it was as if you couldn’t understand anything at all. Even the cups of coffee you drank in desperation was of no use keeping you alert; all it did was make you palpitate.

Then you gave up, went back to bed, and you’re here now. Checking the chat timestamps, you realize you haven’t replied to Jaehyun’s messages in almost a week, which has never happened before—you talk almost everyday, even multiple times a day. Jaehyun’s last message was at 3 PM, when he said he’d come over. One look at your screen shows you it’s already 3:20. If you’ve memorized his schedule right, it takes your best friend thirty minutes to get to your dorm from his Fundamental Maths class. That means you have ten more minutes to get your shit together and clean your mess of a room. 

But right when you’ve mustered the energy to stand up, you hear a series of knocks on your door. That can’t be— “(Y/n), open up, I know you’re in there!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes from outside the door. “I asked your dormmate and she said you haven’t left your room since yesterday, so there’s no use pretending!” Shit, shit, shit! You immediately spring up and hastily fold your blankets and organize your desk, throwing away stray food wrappers and plastic cups. You open your blinds to let some air in, and the bright sunlight makes your head throb even more. 

On your way to the door, you spot yourself in the mirror. There’s no other word for it—you look like utter shit. Your eyebags are dark and prominent, your hair disheveled from tossing and turning in your sleep. You look horrendous, but Jaehyun is persistently knocking on your door, so you have no choice but to fix yourself up as fast as you can. You splash water on your face and smoothen down your hair and open the door—then there’s Jaehyun in all his glory. Your heart clenches seeing him; he looks as handsome as always, his bangs fluffy and soft and his letterman jacket fashionably oversized. He looks nothing like you in your ratty T-shirt with coffee stains and pajama shorts. His hand is halfway raised, positioned to knock at your door (he could and would probably do it all day if he had to). Upon seeing you, he blurts out: “Did I do something?”

Instead of answering him, you open your door wider as an invitation, and Jaehyun takes the hint, stepping into your dorm. Once the door is shut, Jaehyun peers at your messy room and remarks, “Wow. When was the last time you cleaned up? You’re usually not like this.”

You know he didn’t mean it like that, but his comment stings at you all the same. “Sorry, Jaehyun,” you snap, “not everyone can be at 200% energy all the time like you.” At his hurt expression, you backtrack. “Sorry, that was really rude of me.”

“It-It’s fine,” Jaehyun replies confusedly. Then he looks straight at you, eyes pleading. He’s picking at the stray thread hanging from his jacket, a habit you’ve come to known is something he does when he’s nervous. “You know what, I thought about it. For days, really, if I did anything that would make you mad and ignore me. But I couldn’t come up with anything at all. I was really worried when you didn’t reply to me for days on end, especially when we talk everyday. So if I did something, can—can you just tell me? I just want us to be okay.”

Your throat closes up and your heart pounds even faster, making you feel dizzy. You have no idea how to answer him, when all he’s ever seen of you is the perfect student who does everything right, who’s smart and good at what they do without any flaws or exceptions. How would he react if he saw you for who you really were?

The words can’t form in your mouth, and out of frustration at yourself, you tear up. Jaehyun notices this, eyes widening in worry, “(y/n), baby, no, no,” and pulls you into his arms. Almost instantly, the tears cascade down your face and sobs wrack your body. You feel pathetic crying in your best friend’s arms, but Jaehyun just soothes a hand up and down your back as you break down. His other arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and it feels like your anchor when you’re drowning in all your troubles. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says in a hushed tone, “let it all out.” You grip his jacket even tighter as you bury your face in his chest. 

When was the last time you’ve ever been hugged like this? The last time you’ve ever been truly vulnerable to anyone without that mask of perfection you often don? The last time you felt safe just being yourself? You have no idea. All you know that is in the circle of Jaehyun’s arms, you want to be small and imperfect and yourself just this once.

After your cries die down, Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what it is I did, but I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not you, Jaehyun,” your voice is muffled by both your sniffles and Jaehyun’s chest. You don’t want Jaehyun to get the wrong idea that he’s hurt you in some way because of how broken he sounds thinking he’s done something to make you sad. “It’s just. Me.”

“You? What do you mean?” Jaehyun leads you into your room from the doorway. He’s holding your hand and doesn’t let go even when you both settle at the edge of your bed. His palm is warm and his grip loose enough in case you want to let go; you don’t. While you muster up the courage to speak, your best friend just sits there, waiting patiently. “It’s okay, whatever you say, I’m not going anywhere.” You don’t know that for sure, but him saying that makes you want to be truthful just this once, damn the consequences.

You take a deep breath, focusing on your intertwined fingers. You’re too scared to look at his face because you don’t want to see his reaction. “Jaehyun, what kind of person do you think people see me as?”

“Well…” He takes a moment to think about it. “Someone smart, talented, and who gets stuff done?”

In turn, you let out an resigned exhale. “Well, that’s the image I project. Of someone who’s perfect… someone who does things effortlessly. People think it comes easy to me. But it doesn’t. When people tell me that I didn’t need much effort to get to where I am now, I feel undermined. When I express I’m having a hard time, people brush it off and think I’m just overreacting. Because they think I’m perfect all the time. But honestly…? That’s the farthest thing from the truth."

Glancing up from your hands, you scan your room—your desk is a mess of papers and assignments that you have yet to get to. You can’t tell when the last time you spent time being actually productive when what you’ve been is fatigued out of your mind. When you try to sit at your desk and work, all you feel is difficulty concentrating and processing work and readings. Sleep has also proven to be elusive—no matter how long you lie in bed, you never feel well-rested. Simple actions and decisions require so much energy from you that you undeniably lack. You also constantly compare yourself to others, whom things like these come natural to them. But you’ve kept these feelings of yours secret for a long time—you’re utterly terrified that you’d be undermined for being useless and overly sensitive.   

“(Y/n)?” Jaehyun squeezes your hand, and you turn to meet his eyes. His eyes are sincere and kind. “I-I know I may not be the most empathic person, but I promise I’ll hear you out without judging you. I want to be here for you… and I hope you’ll let me. Please?” 

At this, you spill everything you’ve been feeling the past weeks—months, even—to Jaehyun. You stumble over your words and your breath gets caught in your throat, but he’s there to pat your back and to encourage you to keep going. Without you knowing, tears make their way down your face once again, and Jaehyun uses his other hand to gently brush them away. “It just gets so hard that I want to just. Give everything up. I don’t know what the use of trying so hard is when I see how other people don’t need this much effort to do even the most basic of tasks. It’s just so… unfair.”

When you’re finished with your rant, you don’t know what to expect from Jaehyun—but you’re stunned to see him crying. He’s sniffling and wiping at his eyes furiously. “Why…” You have no idea what he’s about to say, but you brace yourself for the worst. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t know you were having such a difficult time. I feel like such a shitty friend for not even noticing. I’m sorry, (y/n).” Jaehyun’s eyes fill with tears and he starts “I… I thought we were best friends.” The best friends tell each other everything goes unsaid, but you know exactly what he meant.

“I…” You feel awful now for making Jaehyun cry. “You’re just. You just naturally have all this limitless energy. You’re…” Normal. Not like me. “I don’t know how if you were going to take me seriously if I told you what I was going through… There were times I’d see you, and I’d be so disappointed in myself for not being like you. And I was so scared that if I did tell you, I’d be letting you down.”

Jaehyun’s expression grows more miserable at this. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n), I never meant to make you feel unheard. And I never meant for it to feel like you couldn’t tell me about these things.” 

“It-It’s not your fault, Jaehyun,” you protest, but he shakes his head, obviously disappointed in himself.

“No, (y/n), I’m supposed to be your best friend. How stupid can I be if I can’t notice when you’re having a hard time? I didn’t even stop to ask how you’ve been doing because you seemed to be doing fine. But I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have taken things at face value. I’m such an idiot,” Jaehyun berates himself. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

At his sincere apology, you can’t help but admit it to yourself—you desperately needed Jaehyun’s support as your best friend, but you were too scared to ask for it. And honestly? You felt immensely lonely without his words and presence to comfort you. 

“(Y/n), I hope you know that I see how hard you work. I know your sleepless nights and how much effort you put into every single thing you do. Despite everything you’re going through, you’re always trying to be better than the person you were yesterday, and it’s something I truly admire about you. But I hope you know it’s okay to be imperfect and flawed and to not be okay. I want to be here on your good and bad days. I just wish I could’ve been more vocal about this earlier… I’ve really taken you for granted, huh?” Jaehyun sighs wetly, taking your hand in both of his. He’s still crying; you both are, actually. What a silly pair the two of you make. 

“Thank you for trusting me and sharing all of this. It literally means the world to me,” Jaehyun rambles. “I promise I’ll be a better friend to you, someone you feel safe opening up to about anything, whether that be your achievements or your struggles. And (y/n), if it’s not too much to ask… Could I ask you to be more honest with me in the future?” He stares at you imploringly. “I don’t want you to think you have to go through all of this alone. I want to be here for you the same way you’ve always been there for me… Okay?”

“....Okay. Okay, I’ll try,” you respond softly. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I… I’ve never told anyone about this before. But thank you so much for just listening, and not judging, and accepting me for me…” While you appreciate Jaehyun’s presence at this moment, a new wave of fatigue washes over you with all this emotional vulnerability and talking. “Jaehyun… I’m still feeling really tired, so I might go back to sleep. Sorry, I know you came all the way here to see me, but here I am being shit company,” you apologize regretfully.

“Oh! That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jaehyun stands up from your bed to leave. When your fingers slip from each other, you feel an acute loss of warmth—both in your hands and in your heart. He makes his way to the door, slipping on his shoes, and your heart sinks. There’s something you badly want to ask of Jaehyun, but you’re too much of a coward to tell him what you truly want. You don’t want to be on your own right now, but you’d probably be asking too much of him. Accepting your fate, you settle in bed, attempting to take a nap so restless you’re sure will be of no help to your exhaustion.

However, Jaehyun himself stops in the doorway. He turns back around, a distraught look on his face. “(Y/n)... I don’t want to assume, but are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he begins. “I mean, we just had this really heavy talk. Can… Can I keep you company? I promise I’m great at cuddles—that’s what all my other friends say anyway when I annoy them with my hugs.”

When you nod, that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to shuck off his shoes, strip his jacket, and climb into bed with you. With your ear against his steady heartbeat and his comforting arm around you, you’re asleep in no time. It’s the best you’ve ever slept in months.

[writingoddess1125]

I am obsessed with how you write for one piece characters (especially angst-fluff XD) I was wondering if I could request a Sanji x male!reader where they both barely got together yet sanji still fawns over nami and robin which causes reader to start feeling insecure, then later in private reader asks sanji if he’d love him more if he was a girl instead. Angst to fluff/comfort pls:))

Btw idk if you have any rules so sorry if this goes against them! Feel free to ignore/delete this!<3

Please and thank you :)

So love this idea! I'm splitting it into two however! So don't worry this will have a happy ending I promise!

Curiosity pt. 1

Sadness

Sanji x MaleReader

Support me on Ko-Fi! Enjoy!!

P.s the sanji quote I used was actually in the Japanese sub so don't @ me

You sat there as silent as stone eating your meal as the chaos and laughter of the ship sounded around you. Nami angrily yelling, Zoro drinking, Luffy yelling for more food while eating, Usopp spinning another story and your boyfriend fawning over Nami's tits openly- In most cases you would have been embarrassed but at this point... the disappointment was expected.

You'd only been together for a few months, starting out as flirting with each other- Him approaching you since he had felt conflicted in his attractions and you guided him through the maze of identity and attractions. Finding him in your arms and in your heart-

Sanji later admitting you were the first guy he has ever liked and the first person he dated. You thought it was sweet- a romance unfolding that you two would one day tell the world... but that didn't seem like the case anymore.

"Nami~ Can I see your panties! Wait let me get a camera!" Sanji laughed loidly as you could see the love in his eyes as Nami looked red in the face and angry.

"You're vile" Zoro hissed at the laughing Sanji, his nose bleeding as Nami gave him another hard punch to his head knocking him to the floor.

Zoro had been getting more aggressive against Sanji- mainly due to the fact he find his acts disrespectful towards you.

Lowering your gaze at this you took another sip of the mixed rum drink your boyfriend had served. However the sweet cocktail tasting bitter on your tongue now- not bothering to announce you were dismissing yourself from the joyous dinner.

Zoro gave you a sympathetic nod, watching you silently stand as you gave him a tight lipped small smile in return and left.

Stepping out you take a heavy sigh- Trying to keep the tears from falling and Biting your lip to swallow the pain once more.

That ache in your heart had faded letting a numbness settle instead. Taking a seat on the main deck you stare up at the sky, watching the stars above you as the fading sounds of laughter echoed behind you.

Sitting out looking over the open ocean you thought- Thinking about the pain and embarrassment that Sanji had brought you. He had been the one to approach you, asking you out on a night like this. Thinking of how he held you close and whispered that you were his one and only. Yet you felt like those moments were now just empty words- Maybe they had always been that way even after such a short amount of time....

"(Y/N)! What are you doing out here?" You heard a all too familiar voice call out, seeing a cherry checked Sanji smile brightly at you. His smile did freeze slightly at seeing the rather stoic look on your faze, his brow raising.

"Is something wrong?" He questioned, stepping closer in worry.

"No" You say calmly, looking back out on the water. Knowing you would kill the mood of you brought up how you felt- however it seemed you couldn't have your way... He sat next to you nudging his shoulder against yours.

"Come on- I know my boyfriend well enough to see you're sad" He said sincerely. You didn't meet his gaze however, sighing in defeat instead.

"Would you have preferred it if I was a girl?"

Sanji's eyes widened at this, confusion and shock going over his features.

"What kind of question is that?- Of course I"

"You still fawn over Nami and the others.. stare at their chest and droll over their figure.." You say softly, touching the thin fabric that covered your lack of breast.

The blondes face falling as he realized what he had been doing to you-

"(Y/N) dont be ma-" He started but cut him off again.

"I'm not mad at you... I'm not going to scream at you or yell if that's what you're expecting.. I'm just telling you my reasonings" You explain and you could practically feel the dread rolling off him.

"Reasonings?"

You nod softly at this, not having the heart to elaborate further on that. You see the flash of panic.

"I don't want to ruin the night Sanji so I didn't want to have this conversation now"

"We are having it now- I don't want you to go.. I care for you" You heard the careful side stepping of his words, avoiding love or like with 'care' it made your chest ache all over again.

"Like how you care about my feelings?... It's okay to say you were just.. experimenting-" You say and he grabs your shoulders suddently so you were facing him, a flash of anger in his eyes as he stared at you, the sharp rum from his breath burning your nose.

"You aren't a experiment to me okay? It's not like that? I just- It's hard to explain okay?" He tried to reason as he released your shoulders and reached forward grabbing your hand to try to reassure you. But you pulled away calmly.

"Do you still like Nami?.." You finally ask and watch his face twisted up as he tried to answer.. but couldnt-

You close your eyes, almost greatful he didn't answer. Not knowing if his excuse would hurt you more then his actions, standing up from your seat you smooth out the invisible Imperfections in your trousers.

"It's okay Sanji... I can understand if I was a curiosity for you. Thank you for the meal, I'm going to bed. Goodnight" You say calmly and head below to get some sleep- you still heard the laughter from the kitchens as you faded into the belly of the ship to hopefully hide your tears.

Sanji sat there, dazed over what just happened. Pulling out a cigarette from his pockets however he just silently started at the stick of tobacco, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders as guilt tore through his chest. Closing his eyes tightly like he was force away the shame he felt.

"Shit.."

[daydreamvalley]

𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚’𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲

I was rereading my old biology textbooks, and became fascinated by the process of fertilization again. I was annoyed by how it was rarely explained to us during teaching that the egg goes through a process of elimination. Choosing the right sperm, not just letting the best swimmer in willy nilly. This natural process had me thinking about the minimization of women’s autonomy in fiction. The concept of fated partnerships and how media always depicts female characters as non-participants in their union with the main male-lead. Similarly, the trope of “Winning the girl in the end”.  Without nerding out on what I read too much, I just found the parallel interesting.

In the case of Attack On Titan, I think Mikasa and Eren’s romantic relationship became spoilt by certain audience member’s belief that their dynamic was forced and one-sided. I partially blame this on the directing choices made for the anime. Choosing to erase interactions or completely replacing/altering Armin with Mikasa in emotionally intimate scenes with Eren (further pushing the narrative of Mikasa being obsessive). 

The biggest contributor to this “forced chemistry” view, in my opinion, was the finale. A lot of audience members left the finale thinking Mikasa was somehow still at the mercy of fate and her connection to Founder Ymir (the headaches). But, we can’t dismiss the autonomy in her decision to kill Eren, in part ending the cycle of titans. A decision Eren was well aware of and consenting to. One of the major themes in AOT, if not the main one, is freedom. Eren becomes disillusioned by it, yet Mikasa expresses that core-value wholeheartedly. Although, we can say she becomes burdened by the choice she made in the end. Louise literally idolizes both Eren and Mikasa for this core-value, they are freethinkers, showing bravery and strength by fighting against injustice. Mikasa was never a slave to the Eren, she did not support the rumbling, she defied authority for her loved ones. Her headaches were a result of the childhood trauma from her parents murder. They always reoccurred when she was reminded loss, while acting as a foil to Ymir. The young girl who had who her agency stripped from her too soon, with a partner she did not love or want. I have my qualms about the writing of Mikasa, and the reliance on the audience to do most of the work in explaining her complexities. A story for another day.

(Right: Here, Ymir appears as grown women rather than a powerless little girl. Her potential strength and resilience reflected back to her through Mikasa.)

So, how does this correlate to the birds and bees talk? It’s about people being equals. Mikasa’s affection for Eren doesn’t just happen to her, it develops between the two symbiotically. It’s echoed in the show's various symbolisms. The foreshadowing of the praying mantis decapitating its mate, mirroring Mikasa and Eren’s final scene is another symbolic image I can’t help but think relates to this idea of choice and consent.

Beyond the heartbreak and relief Eren might have been feeling when he met his end, I’d like to think there was a level of respect he had for Mikasa in that moment. While he was so intoxicated by the pursuit of freedom, she was utterly free, and he knew she was the only one capable of stopping him. He inspired fortitude in her when she wanted to give up, and despite losing him, she carved out a life of her own beyond him.

There is still a debate about her love life in the epilogue. Whether she married Jean, a new guy, was single, had her own children, or adopted. I’d like to believe she saw her herself as deserving of love after Eren, even while grieving him the whole time. Children or not, marriage or not, Mikasa Ackerman was admirable beyond measure, remaining in the driver seat of her life the entire time.

Okay I'm done yapping! (Btw: l believe both Mikasa and Armin were Eren's soulmate I digress...) If Mikasa has no fans, I am dead.

Let me know your opinions on the writing of Mikasa. Do you agree or disagree with my analysis?

[fairyhaos]

. ˚ never a burden

requested by @dandycharmer : I was thinking, pure fluff, if reader is on the bigger side/chubby going on a roadtrip with svt but there aren't enough seats so someone has to sit on another's lap. Everyone thinks the reader should, as they are the "smaller" coompared to some of them, reader is insecure and refuses but then maybe Mingyu or Coups or Dk brush you off and pull you in they're lap. I love your writing btw, so fluffy💞.

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader

genre: mutual pining, fluff, comfort, pre-relationship, implications of chubby!reader, road trip (planning)

word count: 2118

warnings: none

notes: thank you very much for requesting! not edited.

Like with most events, this entire trip was Seungkwan’s idea.

"We should stop getting Seungkwan to do all the planning whenever we go anywhere," Mingyu grumbles, coming to sit next to you on the floor of the kitchen. You hum in agreement, listening as Seungkwan yells at the others in the living room about packing and food and clothes and whatever. He's always yelling, really. 

It's a thirteen-member road trip that he's currently planning. Well, a thirteen-member road trip plus you, because you'd foolishly told Seungkwan that you were free when he asked you whether you were doing anything this weekend. And, as a result, you'd become part of his event-planning craze, hiding on the kitchen floor and waiting for him to inevitably find you and scold you over your toothbrush choice or something.

You’re sitting tucked away between two corners of kitchen drawers when Mingyu comes down to sit beside you on the tiled floor, and it’s a bit of a squish because even though it fit you quite comfortably, it’s not made for two people and he’s, well, a big man.

Automatically, you try and shuffle away from him, something that’s become habit lately whenever he steps too close to you. You hate yourself for doing it, for distancing yourself from one of your closest friends, but if it means that he won’t be able to feel your skin heating up and your pulse racing through your veins when he comes near, then so be it.

But the moment you try to move away, Mingyu wraps an arm around your shoulder, effectively trapping you against him.

It’s difficult to hide a crush when your crush is an incredibly clingy person.

“Where are you going? There’s barely any space here. You’re going to smash yourself against the drawers,” Mingyu says, and his arm settles around your shoulder, comforting, warm. 

It’s a hot day. But you let Mingyu keep his warm arm around you, settling into the comfortable embrace, feet cold against the tiled floor.

“You’ve been avoiding me these days,” he says, out of nowhere, and you try not to tense up in surprise that he’s noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He hums disapprovingly. “No, you do. I think this is the first time I’ve managed to pull you into anything resembling a hug for weeks.”

“That’s not true. You hugged me yesterday,” you point out, but Mingyu just shakes his head. He’s pouting at you now, and he looks so sad and adorable and you feel a little bad. Damn your stupid feelings.

“That was a group hug. That doesn’t count, you know that.” He tilts his head to the side, and the action makes him look a little like a dejected puppy. “I haven’t been able to hug my Y/N in ages, you know? That makes me feel really sad.”

Your heart flips in your chest (he called you his—) but you push down the giddiness, smiling and attempting to brush it off. “Oh, well, I’m sorry. You can hug me tomorrow. Maybe.”

Mingyu huffs, but he doesn’t say anything else, and there’s silence in the kitchen, the faint echoes of Seungkwan’s shouts echoing throughout the entire apartment.

“I think Seungkwan is horribly disorganized,” you murmur after a little while in an attempt to change the subject, heartbeat still thrumming throughout your entire body. You’re used to it now, though. The buzzing feeling whenever Mingyu is near, the slight floatiness of your consciousness when he smiles or talks ot stands close to you. It never really goes away.

That makes Mingyu laugh, and the sound makes your heart jolt in your chest. “Tell me about it. We’re meant to leave in half an hour, actually, and Joshua has only just woken up. He hasn’t even packed yet.” 

There’s a crashing sound from the living room, and both of you collectively wince. The entire apartment is silent for several seconds before everyone explodes into a cacophony of noise, and you can’t quite tell if Seungkwan is screeching or crying.

“Why are you here?” you ask Mingyu, because instead of holding Seungkwan back from kicking the others like he normally does, he’s sitting next to you on the kitchen floor, the arm around your shoulders still firmly keeping you by his side.

Mingyu quirks a grin, squeezing your shoulder once. “Was going to find my lovely Y/N, wasn’t I? You disappeared without a trace, so of course I had to find out where you were.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Why? Was someone looking for me?”

Mingyu just looks at you and smiles.

“You two!” Seungkwan’s voice suddenly rings out, and both of you jump, Seungkwan’s disapproving face looming over you from the other side of the counter. He’s leaning across the top of it, on his stomach, and he sounds a little strained when he says, “Come out. Both of you. We’re leaving now, whether Joshua has enough pairs of socks or not!”

He hops off the counter, dashing off to go somewhere while Joshua yells in the distance for Jeonghan to share his socks with him while the other steadfastly refuses.

You and Mingyu both look at each other. 

“Well, looks like we’re setting off on this delightful roadtrip,” you sigh, and Mingyu chuckles, getting up.

“Looks like it.” He extends a hand for you, and you take it, after a brief hesitation. His palm fizzles against yours, bright pink and warm, and you hope he doesn’t notice how anxious your very fingers are when they touch his. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere,” Seokmin says, popping his head out of the living room as you walk past. “Seungkwan keeps saying it’s a surprise, but I think it’s because he hasn’t planned that far ahead yet.”

“I definitely have!” Seungkwan yells indignantly, and he’s standing in the hallway with the car keys in his hand and several bags piled around his feet. “And for your information, we’re going round to Seungcheol’s place first. Everyone else has gone to his apartment, for some reason, so we’ll meet them there and then get going.”

Joshua emerges from his room, arms laden with bags, Jeonghan behind him carrying absolutely nothing. “Okay, but where are we going after that?”

“He doesn’t know, obviously,” you say, and Seungkwan shakes his head.

“Sure. Now come on, let’s get everything loaded into the car and get going.”

Seokmin is practically skipping out of the door the moment he opens it, bouncing on the balls of his feet and pestering Seungkwan to give him the (Joshua’s) car keys so he can put away his stuff. 

It’s a gorgeously bright day outside, and you squint in the sun, the heat of the late morning hitting your skin almost instantly. It’s nothing compared to the warmth of Mingyu’s touch, of course, but it’s pleasant all the same.

A hand comes up to cast a shadow across your face, shielding your eyes from the sun. Mingyu grins, holding his bags in one hand, the other in front of your face.

“You look like a vampire who’s never seen light before,” he says, and mimics the squinty-eyed, scrunched-up face that you were making just a few seconds prior. It makes you roll your eyes, pinching him in the side, dumping your own bags in the car trunk. He follows you around obediently, trying his best to keep your eyes shaded even as he continues to tease you. It’s a little adorable, actually.

It does nothing to cease the fluttering of your heart, though.

You’re trying to bat Mingyu’s hands away, annoyed when they keep coming too close to boop your nose when Seungkwan suddenly pauses in his frantic flitting around, staring at the car in deep concentration.

“You guys. We have a problem.”

“Oh no, another one?” Jeonghan says, but Seungkwan doesn’t even pay attention, still frowning down at the car. 

“Joshua’s car only fits five people,” Seokmin pipes, leaning out of the shotgun seat to inform them. “We don’t have enough seats for all six of us. Someone’s going to have to sit on someone’s lap.”

“Ah. Well, what do we do?” you ask, looking at Mingyu. Mingyu just looks back, not saying a word, and everyone else is looking at you too, and that’s when you realise. “Oh. Oh, no. Guys, no, I can’t.”

“You’re the smallest out of all of us,” Seungkwan says, and you rapidly shake your head. “Y/N, it’ll only be until we get to Seungcheol’s apartment. Then we’ll split off into more even groups, ‘cause there’ll be Seungcheol’s car, Minghao’s car and Joshua’s car. Just for now? Please?”

“No, I can’t,” you say, hugging your arms around yourself. “It’s just… I’m too…” You cringe, embarrassed, insecure. “Am I not a little too… heavy for that?”

Jeonghan pffts, and Joshua shakes his head fervently. But you’re looking at Mingyu, and Mingyu is looking back at you, and his expression shows that he’s never even thought something like that, even for a second.

“You’re fine, Y/N,” he says, and he’s speaking gently and firmly at the same time, reassuring and determined all at once. “Why would you even think you’re too heavy?”

“Well,” you start, and your cheeks are hot, and this heat has nothing to do with the sun, still bearing down on all of you. “I mean, my thighs? I’m not exactly, like, the skinniest person ever…”

“And we’d never want that,” Mingyu interjects, eyes wide and clear and serious. He holds out his hand. “Come on. You can sit on my lap. It’s okay.”

You hesitate, just like how you hesitated earlier in the kitchen, but again, you take his hand anyway, and again, his fingers fizzle with warmth as they come into contact with yours.

“Great!” Seungkwan clasps his hands together. “Let’s get going then. We need to start this trip as soon as possible. We’re already an hour behind schedule.”

“What even was the schedule to begin with?” Mingyu mutters to you as he walks you to the car, and it makes you chuckle a little because he’s right. There seems to be no actual schedule.

When Mingyu opens the car door and gets in, though, the laughter dies away, and you feel apprehensive once again. You try not to think about it too often, but your weight and the way you look is a huge insecurity of yours, and the fact you have to sit on Mingyu’s lap? This is not helping those insecurities go away. Suddenly you feel like a big, heavy thing, and you kind of don’t want to go on this trip if it means you have to inconvenience Mingyu like this.

Mingyu notices you pausing, notices the thoughts and fears running through your head.

“Y/N?” He looks up at you, and smiles, opening his arms. “Come on. It’s okay. Just until we get to Cheol’s place, yeah?”

“I mean…”

“No, no, none of that,” Mingyu says, and then he’s reaching out for you, pulling you into the car and securely into his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, firmly, and rests his head on your shoulder. “Look? You fit so perfectly in my lap.”

And you kind of do. He’s spreading his legs a little, making it slightly more comfortable for you, and with his arms and his warmth surrounding you so reassuringly, skin buzzing sweetly at every point of contact between you two.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling up at you, and even his eyes are warm. Warmer than Seokmin’s beams, warmer than the sun itself.

“You’ll never be a burden for me, Y/N,” he says, and even though Seungkwan is still bustling around outside and Joshua is bickering with Seokmin in the front of the car and Jeonghan is complaining at having the shotgun seat stolen, the world goes silent for you and all you can see and hear is Mingyu.

Mingyu grins wider, and it makes you smile too. He reaches up and pokes your cheek, cooing softly. “Look at you, my lovely Y/N. So sweet, so adorable.”

You swat his hand away, cheeks heating up. “Aw, stop it. You’re so sickeningly sweet.”

That makes Mingyu laugh, leaning back in the seat, tightening his arms around your waist. “Only for you. Only ever for you.”

And even when you get to Seungcheol’s apartment and kick Jeonghan out into Seungcheol’s car so there’s more space, even when you’re sitting next to Mingyu rather than on him, Mingyu is still smiling at you, so softly and sweetly and you’re smiling back, heartbeat thrumming through your veins.

Damn. Looks like you’ve fallen for him even more than before.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

ok the askbox is open. im taking this opportunity to say ohhhhh im going crazy over the narrative constructed here. specifically with how audience (anon) interaction is intertwined with the main conflict.

because its like.. we are inherently a BAD THING. yes, some of us are actually malicious, but even if we do have kind intentions, and only want the best for ragatha.. just being there is a negative impact that outweighs any positives. we are a parasite, after all. and technically, the only positive action we could do is to simply.. stop engaging. leave the askblog alone. leave ragatha alone. except we could never do that, because we're too curious now, too attached- we want to see how the story continues, how it ends. we cant leave well enough alone, we just have to know. we need to know. so the cycle will continue nonetheless due to our nature. and we have to watch as our main character, the person we're rooting for, gets worse and worse. knowing that its our fault, because we're choosing to engage. we're choosing this path of pain. because we're curious, and that curiosity would kill us if we didn't feed it.

and of course its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things lol. no hate btw. im here enjoying it after all! though honestly i say that like this had any opportunity of existing outside of the askblog genre... or even the tumblr landscape itself- i feel like the anon feature itself is also a big part of this sort of narrative, as it allows those actively malicious anons to be even nastier. because it distances us from our actions. like.. we're given a mask, something that obscures our true identities (both to the other askers.. and to ragatha to an extent, as most all look the same to her. who knows, maybe that one supportive anon trying to cheer her up is the same one also encouraging her downfall! she cant tell!)- a thing that wipes our hands free of any consequences. a chance to become faceless and untraceable- so of course some people will indulge. be as horrible as possible. because, hey, its not like you'll be getting any consequences for it! no way to trace it back to you! no way to be held accountable! you can just sit back and watch the fire you made grow higher. more bright. thats the main goal, after all- to make a spectacle! to move the story along and make it exciting! thats the only thing that matters to you. that its entertaining. not the people you'll be harming in the process.

anyways sorry for the fucking. essay. in your askbox. i like talking and also i fucking love dissecting meta-aligned narratives like this. gggrrggrgrgrrrr chewing on this blog like a chewtoy. i hope everyone gets worse and this whole blog blows up!!!!!!!

i can't stop giggling at ' its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things ' . this was really originally supposed to just be a silly blog with little story but here we are . you really won't get this anywhere else

i get pretty happy when someone dissects this silly thing so no need to apologize !! i'm my own harshest critic when it comes to this blog so it's often difficult for me to grasp what meaning people get out of this lol truly thank you guys for wanting to see my insane , Unhinged ideas come through

and i love the dissection on the mean anons - a lot of this thing hinges on actions having consequences after all ! every little thing will have an impact on ragatha's mental state . i'll say i think the anons have potential to not be as harmful - as there was a point in the blog's time where they acted more like inner therapists to ragatha than reality-bending beings of chaos ( good times ) . it just really depends on being patient with an actually mentally ill person like ragatha - it does fascinate me how people's frustration with her echoes real life mental health situations .

but yeah thanks !!! i'll be kissing this essay and pinning it on the refrigerator that i call my brain (: