#he has the power of friendship on his side

[seleneprince]

WAITERR MORE OF THE "Superdaddies issues" FRIENDSHIP AU PLEASE

Who are all the kids? And whose kids are they?? :3

I actually explained it a bit here, but I'll gladly elaborate a bit more 💕

Basically, this is an extension of my Yandere! Batfam x Neglected! Reader au, also known as the Tales of Bats and Wolves, only that it features neglected kids from the other JL members as well. Because while I love the, this dynamic is fun to explore and I believe not all of them would be fit to be good parents in certain situations. Not with their lives. The comics have proved that a few times.

The kids are: Oliver Queen's son, Hunter. Bruce Wayne's daughter, Aracne. Hal Jordan's daughter, Red Fury. Barry Allen's daughter, Velocity. Arthur Curry aka Aquaman's son, Nerion. Zatanna's younger brother, Kaos. Diana Prince's son, Punisher. And of course, Clark Kent's daughter, Power Girl. These are all codenames assigned to them to which they're referred to when they're "working", since their civilian identities are to remain secret (and also because you're free to self-insert in any of them so not giving names is easier).

Hunter was the result of an affair Oliver had with a woman he met during a mission, who turned out to be a mercenary undercover. Things got complicated between her, Oliver and Dinah, since the three of them were having a passionate but also borderline unhealthy relationship, with jealousy and other emotional conflicts. After getting pregnant, Hunter's mother cut things off with them to raise her boy alone because she didn't want to be shackled to those two, which she knows it's what would've happen if they knew of her son's existence. They were doing fine, until her past came banging at her door and she was killed. Hunter was picked up by Oliver himself, who revealed the kid he was his father, that his mum reached out to him not long before her death, and that he was taking him home. Buuut you know how that goes, both Oliver and Dinah are very busy and even when they aren't, they don't know how to approach the kid they didn't know about and who has his mother's eyes. Hunter is essentially cared for by babysitters, Roy and his mum's side of the family, who are the responsibles for teaching a lot of stuff he really shouldn't at that age. When his little brother Connor is born, he's suddenly his primary caretaker and expected to take care of him when their parents aren't around, which it's often. His skill with the bow and impeccable aim is what draws unwanted attention from certain invidivuals...

Velocity was conceived by Barry having a one-night stand with a co-worker, another forensic scientist, before going back with Iris. Her mother wasn't confident about raising her alone, so she told Barry from the beginning and asked him to at least pay child support to help her, but he ultimately decided to do the right thing and be present in his child's life, not just for the money. He was a good dad and they had a sweet bond, to the point he had arguments with the mom to keep Velocity with him more time than they originally agreed on. They co parented well enough and got along, since they still had to see each other every day at work. Barry was also mostly attentive that his daughter might've inherited his speedster powers, but she never showed signs. Velocity's mother is actually Leonard Snart's, aka Captain Cold, niece that ocassionally works as his ally, so Velocity has a certain anti-Flash sentiment in her house, which contrasts heavily with how everyone else she knows loves The Flash. Things started to go from bad to worse when Barry rekindled with Iris and focused more on her, spending less time with his daughter in the process. Then Wally came into the picture and Barry's time got even more divided, prioritising Iris and training Wally to his child, trusting the mother to handle it because, well, at least she was a normal kid. He and Iris got married, and then surprise, Iris gave birth eventually to their twins. That was the moment Velocity no longer was a priority in her father's life. It was all about his new family, his growing duties, and he stopped making time for her althoether. She still was expected to visit her dad and stay with him for a while, but she just felt like a ghost in that house, an outside spectator to his perfect little family, watching him being a loving husband and father. The only one who never failed her is Wally, but still, it wasn't enough to keep her in the good path. To fill the void, she stuck more to her maternal family, following her mother's foosteps to become a scientist and help uncle Snart's criminal bussiness. She was smart and quick on her feet, growing up used to run errands for him and sneak into places others couldn't. Unfortunately, her luck ran out while during a particularly tricky errand involving a chemical lab, she got caught and, trying to get rid of the attention, she crashed an experiment that exploded, emiting an electric force that sent them all flying and crashing to the ground. Velocity was the only survivor for some reason, but she didn't know it came with consequences. Not until she was running away again from guns, and suddenly her feet weren't touching the ground. When she stopped running, she found herself in another city entirely...Ops.

Power Girl is Clark Kent's daughter, with Jon being the second child instead. I still can't decide for the life of mine if I want her mother to be a nameless Darling, for the sake of this being both a platonic and romantic yandere au, or have her mom be Lois Lane because I adore this woman and can't imagine Clark with any other woman lmao. But it won't really change Power Girl's story much because her crux starts with the simple fact that she doesn't present kryptonian superpowers like Jon does, leading everyone to believe she doesn't have them at all. This pushes both her parents to focus more on Jon and the rest of siblings because they DO have kryptonian powers and therefore Clark has to teach them. Unfortunately, this makes them accidentally neglect the oldest daughter while at the same time expecting her to carry on responsabilities just for being "the oldest." She has to behave and be understanding. Her younger siblings are special and just need more attention, she should feel lucky for being normal and not having to deal with those problems. She has to look out for them because they're still kids, nevermind she's technically one too. Oldest daughter syndrome to the maximum. She's not "special" enough to spend as much as time with her dad as she wishes to, but she is to take care of the house when he's not around. I only gets more humiliating when she hears him tell Jon that it's his job as the stronger one to protect his sister and make sure she doesn't get hurt. She's also not allowed to do certain stuff because she's treated like a piece of glass. It's suffocating. Drives her insane, and deep down all she wants is to stop being good and break shit for once, to let out her anger. This wish eventually becomes true when she storms out of the house after a fight with her dad, punching a tree in frustration, only for it split in half by the impact...turns out she's a late bloomer kryptonian. And in a fit of rebellion, she decides not to tell anyone. Where were this powers when she needed them? When felt forgotten and insignificant because she didn't have them? Why now that she's finally used to her position?

Red Fury is Hal's daughter with a Yellow Lantern with whom he had an off-and-on tense relationship, which mostly consisted in fighting and hate fucking. Pure enemies to lovers here, except the enemies part never stopped. Finding out she's pregnant, she decides to fake her death and try start anew at Earth to give her child a normal life, away from the mess of the Lantern corps and the intergalactic wars. But deep down, the woman was never completely happy with being just a mother. She craved for the power of the ring, the freedom and thrill of flying around the cosmos, of the battle. So when Sinestro reached out again for her to join, she accepted, but he let her know she couldn't bring her daughter along. That's how Red Fury ended up at Hal's doorstep with a note claiming he was the father. Before leaving, Fury's mom made her promise she wouldn't tell anyone who her mother is, for her own good, so Hal assumes the child is the result of some drunk one-night stand he had. He tries to be a good dad, he really does, but he has no idea what to do or how to feel with a whole ass child he never planned for and now is his responsability, along with balancing his duties as green lantern and pilot. It's too much for him sometimes, so he mostly leaves her at his brother's place when he's out on lantern duties, but in reality he's also relieved to do so. So she grows up with an emotionally unavailable father that switches from trying to spend time with her to avoid her, seeing him be more affectionate with his niece than herself. The only person Fury feels that gives a damn about her is little Helen Jordan, her cousin. She learns to disguise her pain and resentment with anger, getting into trouble a lot and defying everyone to feel better, holding unto her anger like a lifesaver, because being angry is better than being scared or sad. Anger makes her strong, makes her forget. She doesn't trust people as a norm, thinking everyone is going to just dissapoint her as well. However, she couldn't have imagined her anger would literally become her source of strenght, when it ends up attracting a certain red ring to her fingers, stained in other's blood...

Punisher is Diana's stepson, but she's been in his life since he was an infant, so he's always referred to her as Mum. His other mum, Diana's partner, is an Egyptian archeologist and a treasure hunter in her free time, but she put that slightly illegal hobby away when she got with Diana. They three of them travel a lot, so he doesn't have real friends and he doesn't know long-term relationships outside his family. He avoids getting attached to people due to this. He's heavily influenced by Diana's firm sense of justice and disappointed at the system, who lets too many people get away with their crimes and, in his opinion, profit of the victims' suffering. He wants to create a world ruled by pure, ruthless justice that doesn't forgive anyone. His vision is very "black and white". Things are right or they aren't. There's no middle ground. And he believes punishments are a form of justice as much as mercy can be. Its the reason he wants to study Law, to become a judge and actually make people pay for what they do. He looks down on those who have power and do nothing to create change, to make things better. Sees them as cowards and unworthy of compassion. He has numerous conflicts when he's first working with the team because he's forced to face a deeper perspective and rethink what he stands up for. He's also the first male to reside and be trained in Themyscira, where his presence is only tolerated because of Diana. He had to bleed as a child just to prove to the Amazons that he was worthy of basic respect. On the other hand, his experience in Themysicira and with Amazon culture in general has shaped him to be a low-key men hater, despising his own sex as a norm. The good thing is that he's also the perfect gentleman, because he refuses to be like those men who disgust him and are the reason Amazons do what they do. Both his mothers are proud of him and his family is easily the most functional out of the group, but he still feels lonely often because of their jobs and a deep, growing resentment for the world for being the way it is, eager to change it but also to take out on this same resentment on those who get away with their actions. He thinks society has gotten soft on bad people, including the JL, which is what makes him an easy target for a certain organization to groom him into the perfect warrior, who use his morals against him...

Nerion was born from an old romance between Arthur and a human woman he knew since childhood. They met again as adults after he dissapeared for years and came back as Aquaman, and one thing leading to another..well, it happened. They were happy for a while but he had to return to the Sea and she belonged to the land, so they eventually broke things off. She had no idea she was pregnant until he left, but couldn't tell him anyway. Arthur found out when he went back to Amnesty Bay and saw her with a little boy in her arms. Despite being already with Mera, he still cared for Nerion's mother, and offered them protection back at Atlantis, which she refused because she knew neither of them would fit in that kingdon. She being human, and Nerion being too different. Arthur still made a point to check on them every now and then, sending them gifts and making sure his son was safe. Nerion's mother is also a native Mohawk woman, so Nerion's birth name is a mix of mohawk and atlantean's dialect. He was raised with the mohawk language and their culture by his mum, as a way to keep her family's tradition alive. She encouraged him to choose his own path, but never forget his roots. Due to him being only a quarter Atlantean, he's weaker than his half-siblings, but still has the same basic abilities, like breathing under water and controlling it. He showed signs of his connection to the sea from an early age, which worried his mother a lot, afraid that he would leave her for the sea one day and never come back, like Arthur did. Nerion's relationship with him is weird. He knows his dad cares in his own way, but never sees him and he's also the cause of his mum's heartbreak, while simultanously looking after them from afar. He doesn't know how to feel about him. Sometimes he's angry, others sad. It depends of the day. The first time he travelled out of Amnesty Bay, he came across an excentric but friendly boy with magic on his veins, and they inmediately became friends after accidentally causing an accident with their combined powers. Not knowing they were closely observed by someone...

Kaos is Giovanni Zatara's son from his second marriage and Zatanna's younger brother. From an early age, his father introduced him to the mystic arts and magic, but the boy was sickly and, for some reason, magic seemed to hurt him. Due to his poor health, he was mostly in his room while his mum and sister took care of him. His inability to properly learn magic led Giovanni to neglect him and focus more on Zatanna, who was a prodigy. Kaos' situation with magic wasn't only that he couldn't use it, but that it only made him worse. There were times when Zatanna was practising that just being near of her spells hurt him. Growing up, he felt like something was constantly crawling inside his ribs, trying to rip him open and get out. Whenever the pain of magic came, this crawling felt more intense. It pulses inside him when he's near certain parts of the house. There's also the fact that when his emotions run high, sometimes windows are shattered and furniture broken around him. He gets told its because of the remnants of magic his family leaves behind that respond to emotions, that it has nothing to do with him personally. But for some reason, it's usually after those incidents when he falls sick and isn't allowed to get out of bed. He was constantly bedridden and had little to no friends because he was homeschooled a lot, practically isolated. Still, he was treasured by both his mother and Zatanna, who saw him as her precious baby brother made of glass that had to be shielded from the world. He was overprotected and neglected at the same time. Torn between wanting attention and desesperately wishing to be free of it. He grows up feeling lonely and frustrated with his own body for being wrong, because he can feel something wrong. It's only years later, with secret research on his own and reaching out to certain people, that he finds out the truth. About why he can't fit with his dad and sister, why he can't do magic the way they do and why he's in pain a lot at convenient times: He's a wizard of chaos, like Klarion. And someone put a block on his powers "to protect him". Now, he's just determined to prove not all wizards of chaos are inherently bad (and maybe prove to himself that he can be as good as his family if not better)

Aracne's backstory I already explained her here, but in this au it will be slightly adapted.

[rinni-thecaithsith]

he's asserting dominance

[true-blue-sonic]

Alternate Sonic Rivals 2 wherein the teams are as follows:

Sonic and Silver

Espio and Rouge

Tails and Shadow

Knuckles and Metal Sonic

for maximum hijinks, silliness, and incompatibility on all sides.

[guckies]

I think it’s funny that Foolish was agreeing about not loving people because they all die in the end while he literally looks at any person considered evil and says “I can fix them”

[everymadara]

Chapter 624

[ebitenpura]

New outfit! Or, actually, a repurposed old one that happens to be Lana's signature look from SoR. I've mentioned it once before, but since Eight's clothes melted off in the carbonite, she gave her old set to him after KOTXX as a show of good faith, hoping that it would act as a deterrent to other Sith and that he could go with her authority if he dressed in something representing her, as he was very much Lana's "hand" since Ziost.

Besides that, she (and Theron) started to fuss over him post-KOTXX after their relationship veered into more personal areas beyond a mere boss and underling, and they started to actually become friends, not just a handler and weapon. Lana often expressed frequent concern that he wasn't wearing enough armor in battle (as an Echani who can only wear revealing or light armor), so she'd often try to shield him and his modesty with her cape; gifting the rest of her armor was bound to happen regardless of how much clothing Eight was wearing on a given day....or how irritated Lana was by him not listening to her recommendations, again.

[your-zipper-is-down]

Saw some BillyTella art. Remembered how beautiful and tragic their pre-loop relationship is, and started crying actual tears.

I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[sammydem0n64]

Are you telling me it’s been months since season 5 dropped and gave us Elmer (deadwood) and no one has shipped him and Soren. Driven mad being driven mad rn

[pussy-ache]

i find it interesting but also worrisome

[mononijikayu]

lovesick — ryomen sukuna.

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is." "I see, I see." Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway. “Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 3.8k words.

Note: i wanted to see ryomen sukuna be someone that is pathetically in love with his lover, because i needed a break from my pattern of being angsty with sukuna, so here you go. that being said, i'm sorry this is shorter than what i usually write. i'm prepping a lot of things because im going to be back in uni soon and i need to make sure i fix the queue!!! that being said, i'll post tomorrow about the valentines special!!! thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick masterlist

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IF THERE WAS ONE THING ABOUT HIM, ITS THE FACT THAT HE IS A STRONG PERSONALITY. He knew that too well, everyone knew that just as much. Ryomen Sukuna was just easily the most incredible force to be reckoned with. Whether that be meeting him personally or whether that be hearing baout him in passing.

Everyone would say the same thing about him — it's hard to find out what to say about him without going on a tangent for hours on end. And that was just the easiest thing to do, rather than finding anything definite to say.

The one and only captain of the top ranking college varsity volleyball team in all of Japan, Ryomen Sukuna dominated the court like it was his personal kingdom with that iron fist. He has such a stellar record of existence, that was to be sure, wearing the crown.

All his opponents could only quiver at the sight of his one of a kind powerful line spike. All the teammates he'd have since junior high could only respect and fear him with almost military reverence, like he was their general.

Of course, all his coaches over the years swore he could crush concrete if he so much as clenched his fists mid-serve. That perhaps, it would be good to gentle parent him as much as possible, knowing he's already quite the fire cracker of a man.

Or that he could end up cussing out everyone at the court as easily as one does breathing. That's of course, why the coaches would find him to be the "Cursed King." It was an intimidating title that had followed him since junior high school.

One moment he's someone that you curse because you lost a game because of him, another time you curse him because your team got fined because he ended up causing a fight. And with a name like that, Sukuna relished the air of invincibility it gave him.

Everyone had a box for Sukuna to fit in, of course. That continued over time, to be something that people couldn't avoid making for him and only him. That was just how it was, when you have someone as enigmatic as him.

To some of his teammates, he was "Cap"—the iron-willed leader who demanded nothing less than perfection. The one that would force them to run miles on end until they fell from exhaustion. The one who forced them to do hundreds of spikes until it took out the bottles he prepared on the other side of the court.

The rival schools referred to him as "Demon Spike" but this was mostly because he left a trail of destruction (and bruises) every time he stepped onto the court. One moment that's from the fact that his serves were just dangerously low and one moment it's because he heard someone bad mouth his underclassman.

To the younger underclassmen, who unfortunately still looked at him with bright eyes under those filtered glasses on — he was a mix of "Sensei of True Discipline" and "Volleyball God".

He was to them, a figure of unadulterated awe and of course, that desire to hope, that perhaps they would end up like him too. After all, he was always a star in the court. But in a different way, in the good way. That's how they think.

Of course, even his many teachers and now his college professors had their own opinions for him one at a time over the many years. One of the most known nicknames for him by the professors in the college halls is “The GPA Crusher”.

But this was because Ryomen Sukuna spent more time perfecting his jump serves against his opponent than ever having effort in writing essays for submission. Ironically, even though he was quite a smart young man. The fact that he shows up to exams more than classes and still passes with flying colors is quite certain proof.

But to you, his beloved girlfriend, Ryomen Sukuna was none of these things. He didn’t live in a box and he never wished to do so, no. Instead, he lived eternally, forever, even in the next life — in your heart.

Though he’d never say something that cheesy out loud. That part is not easy for him, but you didn't mind that. You liked to keep him to yourself most of the time. And he was satisfied with that.

The most you could hear from him about you is in passing. Sometimes practice would finish and he, still full of sweat, would immediately pack his things into his gym bag, almost suddenly becoming ignorant of everything else.

His underclassman would invite him to eat something like yakuniku and he would say with a straight face — "I can't. My girfriend wants to cook some authentic pasta for me at her place. Bye."

He would leave almost instantly, much to the shock of the underclassman each year. But most of his teammates, who were also somehow his friends, were not surprised. He and you were dating early on during junior high school. And he would be the same way.

When he wasn't looking, people could only surmise what he looked like when he towered over your giddy figure at every practice, at every game — 'Ah, I see. He's lovesick. And in a good way.'

To Sukuna, you were perhaps the only thing that could triumph against volleyball. You were his number one. And he knew that you thought of him the same way too. And everyone knew that too.

That's why you only ever called him one thing: my love. And to Sukuna, that title was worth more than any championship trophy. But of course, no one knew that. It's not like you don't call him that in public. It's just that no one asks, what that nickname is.

The look in your eyes was more than enough when he makes a wink for you at each serve was enough, the smile on your lips when he comes to greet you at the bleachers was more than enough. No one needed to hear the nickname to know that there was something loving between the two of you.

He knew this truth as well as he knew how to spike a ball with a precise edge. He knew this as much as he knew what would get him a championship. But of course, that doesn't stop curiosity at times. At times he humors them, at times he does not. It was a hit and miss.

That’s why, during a post-practice break, when the Vice Captain of the Volleyball team, Gojo Satoru, decided to start stirring the pot as usual with his antics. And somehow, today, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t mind it. There was something in the air. They could feel it.

(He won't tell anyone about this, but he has very happy about something.

He was after all happy that his girlfriend was staying at his dorm tonight to spoon on his bed after your finals kept you apart for nearly two weeks —

But no one needs to know that.

Otherwise, they'd use it against him.

And he can't have that right now.

It will spoil these bastards and make them too relaxed before championships again.)

Gojo leaned against the bleachers with that signature cocky grin. “Hey, Sukuna.” he drawled, as he watched the captain drink from his water bottle. "You’ve got about a million nicknames floating around. But what are you to your girlfriend?”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t miss a beat.

He put down his water bottle swiftly.

He glared at Gojo Satoru with a passion.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with that calm arrogance he wore so well. “Huh? My girl can only call me my love or nothing.” he said, his voice practically dripping with pride.

"Hehhhhh, really?"

“If she calls me anything else, I’ll disappear and leave no trace. Hell, I'll jump off a cliff and make sure I drown into the ocean and never be seen again."

Gojo barked out a laugh, his hands clapping together as if Sukuna had just told the world’s funniest joke. “Wow. Our captain sure is seriously whipped. Actually, that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is."

"I see, I see."

Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway.

“Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Ryomen Sukuna turned slowly, his earlier bravado evaporating the second he saw you standing at the gym door. Your arms were crossed, your eyes sharp, and your posture practically screamed, You’re in trouble.

“Sukuna.” you called out, your tone cutting through the gym like a whistle signaling the end of a game.

His entire body could only stiffen. He didn’t just flinch—he practically short-circuited. The other players and members, the entire volleyball staff, sensing the shift in the air, immediately stopped what they were doing to watch the drama unfold. All of their eyes were glued on this moment, more than anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” you said again, each syllable landing like the sound of a referee’s whistle before a penalty.

Sukuna’s brain scrambled for an escape route. “What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, frozen in place.

“Ryomen Sukuna, come here.”

“No.” His voice cracked as he stood up so fast he nearly knocked over a water bottle.

His scarlet eyes were shaking as much as his body was. No one has ever seen this before. No one had ever seen the panic on his face before. Not even in a hard game to win. This was the very first time their formidable captain looked so defeated and horrified.

“No, no, my name is my love! It’s my love! What did I do?” he asked, practically sprinting toward you like a volleyball rolling out of bounds.

Gojo Satoru, thoroughly entertained, cackled so hard he nearly fell off the bleachers. “Man, even the Cursed King has a leash!” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "This is how he is with her. That's interesting, isn't it?"

"He doesn't look like who he actually is in the moment, huh." Nanami Kento whispered under his breath, wiping the sweat with the towel over his shoulder. "We should have used this card when he refused to stop practice during last year's finals."

"Well now we can." Geto Suguru snickers, lounging on the floor as he watched the scene with mirth in his purple gaze. "Does anyone have objections?"

"None here!" The chorus of seniors and juniors retorted back at him.

"Someone save her phone number for speed dial!" Gojo said, pointing to one of the managers who nodded.

By the time Ryomen Sukuna reached you, he was a completely different man. The fearsome captain who dominated courts and crushed spirits was reduced to a panicked, apologetic mess. You continued to stand before him, rolling your eyes, his towering figure in tatters at what you called him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything! There's no girls or even guys! There isn't anything else. You can check my phone. Or you can ask everyone here too!"

"Sukuna—"

"Whatever it was, I’ll do everything fix it and make it right, babe—just don’t call me that again. Please!” he begged, his voice low enough that only you could hear the desperation in it.

"Calm down." You raised an eyebrow, letting him stew for a moment before finally speaking. “You forgot to text me that practice was running late. And I was concerned. I thought we were going to meet up at the cafe nearby so we can go to your dorm together!”

Sukuna blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” you said, though your tone suggested you might have a few more grievances stored up for later. "Well, I'm also hungry."

Sukuna exhaled so dramatically it was a wonder he didn’t collapse on the spot. “I’ll never forget again, okay?” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Babe, I’ll set an alarm—no, two alarms—just for you. And don't worry, we're gonna eat. Actually, take my card and buy something in the cafe while you wait for me.”

As he continued to rattle off promises, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Cursed King or not, to you, Sukuna was just your dorky loving boyfriend, forever trying to live up to his title of my love in your life. And if the rest of the gym wanted to watch him grovel? Well, that was just an added bonus. By the gods, you love him.

"I love you, my love." You whispered to him, taking his hand into yours. "I'm sorry I scared you like that."

"No, no, that was my fault." He grumbled under his breathe, taking a moment to settle in the warmth of your eyes, reserved just for him. "I should have noticed the time. I will never forget about it again, I promise."

"Hm, that's all that matters, my love."

"I'll make us dessert tonight as an apology." He says, moving closer to kiss your temple.

"That would be good, my love."

As Sukuna continued his frantic apologies, the rest of the gym erupted into poorly stifled snickers. Gojo Satoru, of course, was the loudest, slapping his knee like he’d just witnessed the greatest comedy set of the century.

“My love, huh? Big, bad Cursed King reduced to a golden retriever!” he teased, practically howling. “Hey, did you hear that, boys? If she calls him Ryomen Sukuna one more time, he might just cry.”

“Should we start calling him my love too, senpai? Y’know, in solidarity?” chimed Underclassman Itadori Yuuji, grinning as he leaned on his volleyball. The suggestion earned a chorus of laughs and a few enthusiastic nods.

“Yeah, Cap! Don’t worry, my love, we’ve got your back!” Underclassman Fushiguro Megumi deadpanned from the sidelines, his usual stoic face cracking into a rare smirk.

One of the first year underclassman, emboldened by the chaos, cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “We love you, my love! You’re our MVP for all seasons! With so much love, my love!”

Sukuna whipped his head around, his scarlet glare promising death, destruction, and possibly laps for everyone involved. “If anyone other than my girlfriend calls me that, I swear.” he growled, “I will personally make sure you regret it.”

“Sure, my love!” Gojo crowed, leaning back against the bleachers with a devilish grin. “Ooooh, should we get it printed on the back of your jersey? Cursed King on the front, My Love on the back—perfect balance, don’t you think?"

Geto laughs loudly. "You know what, I think we can make this happen. Coach! We got the budget for that, right?"

“Or maybe embroider it on the team banner!” someone else chimed in, sending the gym into another fit of laughter.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, doubling over as Sukuna turned a deeper shade of red than the volleyballs on the court. His sharp retorts and death glares only fueled the chaos, the once-commanding presence of the Cursed King now utterly eclipsed by the sheer hilarity of the moment.

Finally, Sukuna turned back to you, his expression a mix of betrayal and exasperation. “You’re supposed to defend me, babe.” he muttered, his voice low but desperate.

You reached up to pat his cheek, your grin as sweet as honey. “Oh, my love, I am defending you. I’m making sure they never forget how cute you are to me."

For the rest of practice, you sat down and watched everything unfold before you as you ate your croissant and drank your coffee from the cafe which you bought using your boyfriend's card, of course.

For a while, the gym echoed with the sound of volleyballs, laughter, and the occasional teasing chorus of “My love!” — especially when Sukuna found himself scoring a point, which of course led to him missing the next hit.

Every time someone said it later on, Ryomen Sukuna looked seconds away from snapping a net in half, but deep down, though he’d never admit it, he wouldn’t have traded his nickname or the teasing for anything in the world. Not when you were there, cheering it for him with that adorable voice of yours, loving him completely.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be lovesick like that.

Not when it was you who loved him just like that.

That's just how he loved you too.

══════════════════

epilogue

After what felt like the longest practice of his life, one that was just peppered with relentless teasing from his teammates and the volleyball team staff — Ryomen Sukuna was finally free to leave with you, to enjoy the weekend together.

He barely said goodbye to the others, grumbling something about “making them run that suicidal hill again on Monday” before grabbing his bag and leading you out of the gym.

“Unbelievable.” he muttered under his breath as you walked side by side. “Gojo’s gonna be insufferable for weeks.”

You stifled a laugh. “Weeks? You mean forever.”

He shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. Instead, he sighed and draped an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know. Otherwise, I might’ve disappeared on the spot after what you pulled, babe.”

“Oh, come on, my love.” you teased, leaning into him. “It was worth it to see the great Cursed King turn into a puddle in front of everyone. Especially because he loves me.”

“You’re cruel, babe." he grumbled, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can't believe I've loved you since we were in junior high."

You winked at him, smile on your lips growing wider. "And for forever too! You'll have to deal with it."

By the time you got back to Sukuna’s place, you immediately made the move to cook while he got into the shower. Soon enough, the air was thick with the scent of miso broth bubbling on the stove.

You’d planned this hotpot night earlier, since he was supposed to have gone home much earlier. But after the chaos at the gym and his long grueling practice, you just felt like it was even more well-earned.

Sukuna, finally emerging from the bedroom, rolled up his sleeves and helped you set the table, his mood softening with each step of the ritual as you hummed along the song playing on the radio.

“You got everything, babe?” he asked, peering over your shoulder as you arranged plates of thinly sliced meat, tofu, and an assortment of vegetables.

“Yup.” you replied, popping a piece of bok choy into your mouth. “And don’t even think about hogging all the meat this time.”

“Me? Hog it?” He snorted, grabbing the chopsticks and pointing them at you in mock accusation. “You’re the one who fishes out all the good stuff when I’m not looking.”

“That’s called strategy, my love.” you said, grinning as you threw his words from earlier back at him.

Sukuna groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Not you too…”

You waved your chopsticks at him. "Well, I say it more lovingly. You like it like that, you know!"

He grumbles under his breath, red appearing on his cheek. "You're lucky I love you like that."

"Hm, that's why I'm shameless!"

But any complaints were quickly forgotten as the two of you settled down around the simmering hotpot. The warmth of the broth, the crackling of the stove, and the quiet clink of chopsticks filled the room. Sukuna started to relax, his earlier frustrations melting away as he watched you happily dunk mushrooms and noodles into the pot.

“Okay, babe.” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of tofu. “Decided what?”

“Next time Gojo calls me ‘my love’ in front of everyone, instead of just you, it’s on sight,” Sukuna said, leaning forward with a wicked grin that promised destruction.

He jabbed his chopsticks into a slice of tofu like it was Gojo’s face. “I’m spiking a volleyball straight at his stupid face.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of fish cake you’d been chewing. “Good luck with that. He’ll just dodge it and make fun of you even more. You know how he is—Gojo thrives on chaos. The man’s immune to consequences.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, stabbing another piece of tofu with unnecessary aggression. “Then I’ll spike two balls. One after the other. And if that doesn’t work…”

You looked at him curiously, mirth in your eyes. "What will you do?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “I’ll add laps. So many laps. He’ll be running until graduation.”

You snorted, wiping a tear from your eye. “Right, because Gojo would totally listen to your orders. He’d just turn it into a race and leave everyone else in the dust.”

Sukuna grumbled under his breath, his scowl deepening—but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “Fine. If volleyball and laps don’t work, I’ll come up with something else. Something evil.”

“Evil?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What, like stealing his Bottega Veneta sunglasses?”

“Too easy. He’s got like fifty pairs, babe.” Sukuna muttered, resting his chin on his hand as he considered his options. “Maybe I’ll prank him during practice. Replace his water with vinegar. Or set his alarms an hour early every day.”

"I forgot he makes his password too easy for people to guess." You murmured, drinking from your cup. You sigh. "Well, I suppose that would work."

"Right? Fool-proof!"

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, as solid as that is, what if he gets revenge? Gojo’s the type to double down, you would know best."

He hummed. "I'm way better at being stubborn than he is."

"I know that. But he might start serenading you in the middle of practice. Like, full-on ‘My Love’ with a guitar and everything on campus like it's 10 Things I Hate About You."

Sukuna froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, he absolutely would.” you said, grinning. “And you’d never live it down. The Cursed King getting serenaded in front of the entire team? In front of the whole university? They’d be talking about it for years.”

He groaned, dropping his chopsticks and leaning back against the chair like he’d just been defeated in battle. “Why do I even put up with him? Or any of you, for that matter.”

“Because deep down, you love us.” you said, smiling sweetly as you plopped another piece of meat into the hotpot. “Even Gojo.”

“I do not love Gojo,” Sukuna snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Sure, sure, my love!” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “But admit it—you’d miss him if he wasn’t around to drive you insane.”

Sukuna gave you a flat look, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him again. “I’d miss you more.” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip.

“Aww, my love.” you cooed, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good to know, babe.” he said, turning back to the hotpot with a satisfied grunt. “At least you don’t call me my love in front of the team like that.”

You smirked, swirling your chopsticks through the broth. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sukuna froze mid-bite, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“No promises!” you said with a mischievous grin, earning a groan from him that was half exasperation, half affection.

"You're such a menace."

"Well, that's how you know I love you, my love!" You grinned, moving forward to steal his tonkatsu.

"Babe!" He groans, as he watches you eat the tonkatsu happily.

"I love you!"

Sukuna sighs, his eyes softening, watching you happily eat. "I love you too......"

[lizard-ratt]

There's a very specific corner of the Kas! Eddie AU that I love so much (as a Steddie shipper) and that's Kas! Eddie just grabbing Steve and flying off with him.

Like the group show up in the Upside Down for one reason or another, or maybe Kas! Eddie shows up in the Rightside Up through one of the giant cracks in the Crust of the Earth, and everyone is shocked frozen, because it's Eddie, he's there, but he's wrong. He has wings and claws and fangs and he's on the offensive against them.

Dustin tries to get to him, to talk to Eddie, but it appears to do nothing. It's almost like he doesn't speak English anymore. He's feral, almost. He scans the group and his gaze lands on Steve, and something flashes in his eyes. A sort of recognition, maybe. He dives in, faster than anyone can really process, grabs Steve, and flies off.

Everyone panics, of course, they panic. Now the Upside Down, Vecna, has Steve and they don't know why. Eddie- Kas- has air superiority and speed on his side, and they have a job to do. Dustin and Robin and freaking out the most, because that's their guy! Like, everyone cares about Steve to some degree, but that's Robin and Dustin's Guy!

The killer is their imagination. The possibilities of what could be happening to Steve, that they couldn't see. Was he dead? Was he being tortured? Being turned into something like Kas? As time goes on, their imagination spirals further and further, and they're pretty powerless to do much about it right at that moment.

Bonus points if it switches back and forth between Steve's perspective and everyone else's perspective. Where Steve registers as an ally to Kas, because he has a smaller dose of the venom that turned Eddie, through the bat bites. So Eddie, a pack creature at heart, takes Steve into his nest and he just lays on top of the guy like an oversized cat and starts a category five purring event.

Through the power of love, friendship, and this bat that Steve found, Steve is able to wake up the Eddie part of Kas and get him to work on the side of Humanity against Vecna.

And they kiss about it.

[chaoticwriting]

Danny X Cass part 1

The tension is high in the Watchtower currently. It is bad enough that the JL get news that Darkseid plans to invade Earth a few weeks ago when suddenly the Teen Titans contacted the JL that Trigon might actually invade Earth soon too.

Currently all the heroes are discussing possible scenarios and plans to counter the attack when suddenly a shadow moves behind Batman and pocks his sides.

Batman turns and sees his daughter, Cassandra, looking at him. She starts making hand signs and confused Batman momentarily.

'Call Friend. Might help.'

"Who's your friend? Is there anyone else that can help that isn't here?"

To that question, Cass stalls for a moment. She seems fidgety like she is nervous about something.

'Old friend. Also hero.'

Batman thinks for a moment and decides to give in. He might have a way to fend of the invasion of Darkseid and Trigon at the same time but not without heavy casualties. That plan is only for the worst case scenario.

Giving a nod to her daughter, Cass immediately beamed and goes to a far corner of the meeting room. Batman looks at her daughter that looks almost giddy for once. He doesn't know who she is calling but if she trust the other person, then he is also willing to try to trust whoever she is calling.

Cass sits in a corner where there is no one else near her and pulls out an old cell phone. A green light shines from the phone as Cass turns it on and a text is received just as she about to message the person.

Danny 🥰❤️🥰

Danny: Hey Cass, would you be free for a date? I wanna show you something cool I just get.

Cass: Can't go. Trigon and Darkseid are invading Earth. Very busy. Dad is stressed. Can you help?

Danny: Sure. I can go beat up Trigon and I'm sure Dan would gladly go and beat up Darkseid. He's been complaining about not being able to have a good fight since I have become too powerful for him. 😎😎

Cass: Come in Phantom. Introduce you to everyone.

Danny: Ok now you are making me nervous. Should I bring your dad gifts? Should I wear a formal wear or casual wear? Oh no! What if your dad doesn't like me? 😱😰😨

Cass: Don't worry. Dad will like you. Dad is paranoid. But he loves me.

Danny: Maybe I should gifts him an ecto-weapon? I heard he likes to make contingency plans. Surely he would like me more if I give him stuff to fund his hobby.

Cass: Hobby?

Danny: Y'know. Making contingency plan. I think that is his hobby. Like I understand if he has 1 or 2 contingency plans for each heroes but doesn't he have like 50 for each heroes?

Cass: 😂💕. No bringing ecto-weapon. Might hurts you.

Danny: It's fine. I will give it to him if he asks. Anyway, where should I meet you?

Cass: Watchtower.

Danny:Alright. See you in a minute. Bye 👋👋

Cass: 👋👋

Cass puts down her phone and is startled when a purple hoodie peeks from above her shoulders.

"Ooooo, is that your boyfriend? No wonder you are so protective of that phone. How dare you not tell me you have a boyfriend? Does our friendship means nothing to you?"

The figure clad in purple says dramatically. Cass push her away and stares at her angrily. Even though she is in full costume the purple still knows when she is mad.

"Steph. Bad peeking."

"Sorry, Sorry. I can't help it seeing you so secretive like that. I promise I will not do it again."

Lies. Both of them knows Steph is lying.

"Anyway, who is that? You know you shouldn't tell our situation to outsiders right? B might be mad if he knows."

"B says ok."

"Oh what? I never get permission to tell people stuff. This is blatant favoritism."

Cass looks at her smugly. Of course she knows she is the favorite. That's why she knows Batman will approve of Danny no matter what.

A commotion rises suddenly from the center of the room and Cass and Steph turn towards it ready for battle. They can see the members of JLD panicking about something when suddenly a green portal opens right in the middle of the room.

From the portal, a tall figure steps out with powerful presence emitting from him. His silver white hair falls down to his neck and his black and white hazmat suit gives of the feeling of awe whenever someone looks at him.

All the heroes in the room get into a fighting stance except a select few.

"Hello everyone. I am Phantom and I am here to help."

The figure's voice is not loud but everyone can hear it like it is spoken right besides them.

Before anyone could say anything a figure bypasses everyone and sprints towards Phantom. Unfazed, Phantom spreads his arm and the figure flies into his arm. Phantom gives the figure a hug and she replies with a tighter hug.

"I miss you." Cass says silently.

"I miss you too." Danny whispers and sends the voice to her only.

While everyone is still confused and stunned on what is going on, Constantine curses and brings everyone's attention back.

"Fucking hell. Whatcha doing here kid? I never call you did I."

The figure looks up and stares at Constantine. Everyone starts to become nervous and thought the figure is going to attack them when he just smirks.

"Of course it is not you. You only call me if you need my help to deal with your ex or something. You should really stop dating all these interdimensional demons y'know. There are only so many times I can save you."

Phantom's rebuttal gets a few snickers and gasps from the crowd.

"Fuck you, kid. What are you even doing here? And why are you holding one of the bats?"

"Do you hit your head somewhere in hell, Constantine? What does this looks like? I'm going to eat her?"

That comment makes a few figures in the crowd tense for a moment before Constantine next word baffles them more.

"No fucking way. You're dating one of the bats. Fucking hell. I don't want to be part of this shit anymore. Y'all can go fuck yourself."

Constantine then picks up his flask and opens a portal to return to House of Mystery. Just as he's about to step into the portal, Superman speaks up.

"Wait, Constantine. We still need your help in dealing with Trigon and Darkseid."

John stops in his tracks and looks at Danny. He chugs down all the remaining alcohol in his flask before replying.

"If that kid can't handle this problem, then we might as well just lay down and wait for our demise."

He then steps into the portal and disappears. Everyone looks at Danny that is still holding Cass in a hug and the awkwardness can be felt in the air.

Danny releases Cass that releases a whimper that is picked up by a few figures primarily the big bat.

"So, hello. I am Phantom and as I say, I am here to help."

Part 2

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔｎｅｒ ♡

♡ Pairing: couple!woosan x best friend!fem!reader, best friend!ateez

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: After a terrible breakup two of your dearest friends welcomed you into their home. Living with them has been a total dream so far, one that has you developing feelings you aren't quite ready to face but, when a dinner with your friend group forces you to confront those feelings, you realize that you might not be the only one who has them.

♡ Word Count: 6.8kish

♡ Warnings: woo and san are indeed a couple, boys kissing, kissing in general, drinking, threesome, lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft dom woosan, oral sex (m&f receving), some clit play, nipple play, nibbling, hickeys, a lil manhandling, double penetration, creampie, swallowing, finger sucking, some booty slaps, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (sweetie, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), and that's all darlings.

♡ A/N: I really wanted to write a nice, warm lil comfort fic and this was the result of that. As I always say, I hope you sweet baby darlings enjoy this. Especially my WooSan babes out there.

When you first decided to move in with Wooyoung and San everyone warned you that it might not be the best idea. The two of them had been dating for years at that point and, though you knew them just as long, being best friends with a couple is much different than living with one. They had their own habits, their own unique dynamic, and the introduction of a single woman into the mix might have thrown it off in ways that irreversibly damaged your friendship.

For all the worries that people planted into your brain, the reality of the situation was drastically different. From the night you moved your last box into their spare bedroom you felt like you were home. They were doing you a major favor, letting you move in after a terrible breakup with your ex, but they never made you feel like it. Instead they welcomed you with open arms, immediately jumping to do everything in their power to make sure you felt comfortable.

During those first few weeks you made it a point to shrink yourself, not wanting to take up too much space or get in their way. They quickly reassured you that it wasn’t necessary. If they didn’t want you there you wouldn’t have been there. You could take up as much space as you wanted, get in their way whenever you pleased. They were just happy to have you.

Before you knew it the three of you were doing everything together. Cooking each other breakfast before work, curling up on the couch for movie nights, staying up late to talk about whatever popped into your heads. It reached the point that you hardly had to make your own bed because of the endless nights you found yourself dozing off in theirs.

Woo and San always treated you like a princess, living with them wasn’t a requirement for that, but after you moved in it got so much worse. You had to argue them down to let you do dishes or wash your own clothes. You didn’t even try when it came to carrying in bags after grocery shopping. You knew if you did you’d never hear the end of it from either of them. Even now as you sit at the elegantly decorated table of an upscale restaurant—all of your closest friends gathered for the usual Saturday night dinner—they won’t let you lift a finger.

With Woo on one side of you and San on the other, you only have to extend your hand towards something you want and it's yours. A particularly crispy cut of pork belly catches your eye and before you know it Woo’s swooped it up with his chopsticks. 

“Woo, you didn’t have to do that” you whisper beneath the chatter of conversation at the table.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” he asks, knowing very well that he heard you. He raises it to your lips, patiently waiting for you to take a bite. 

You stare at it for a moment, refusing to eat it solely because of the entertainment that comes with testing Woo’s patience. San drapes his arm over the back of your chair, replenishing the tall crystal glass before you with sweet red wine. 

“Eat it or he’ll get all sulky” San teases, cutting his eyes at his boyfriend whose lips have already begun to form a pout. 

“I do not get sulky” Woo protests, indeed sulking. He’s cute when he does it, knowledge that he weaponizes every chance he gets. 

You and San look at each other, sharing a giggle, before you give in and take a bite. Woo watches as you chew, making sure that you enjoy it. If you don’t he’ll get you another. 

“Happy?” you smile once you’re done and Woo nods, returning his attention back to his own plate. 

Across the table Hongjoong watches you curiously, something you’ve caught him doing all night. No one else seems to notice but for you it can’t be ignored. The two of you lock eyes and he asks you a question without words. You wish he’d use them, spit out whatever the hell is on his mind already, because the tension’s eating you alive. 

“So does anyone know what we’re doing for New Year’s Eve or is it party at Seonghwa’s?” Yunho asks, gesturing for Jongho to hand him a dish. 

Seonghwa frowns, his cheeks too packed full of food to speak clearly, “My house? Why my house?” 

“Ooh, yeah, then I can come over and touch all your stuff” Mingi says, attempting to swipe some food from Seonghwa’s plate. 

Seonghwa slaps him on the back of the hand with his chopsticks, “I’ll kill you.” 

“We could all go camping,” Jongho suggests, “I know a really good spot for it.”

The table falls silent with the exception of Yeosang who nods in support of the younger man. “That’s…an idea.”

“We can host this year” San offers, flashing that dimpled smile, “We have the room for it.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, his icy glare falling upon you and only you. “Are you sure? Don’t you think your apartment’s gotten kinda crowded lately?” 

The comment strikes a chord with Woo, his irritation apparent in how swiftly his demeanor shifts. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asks, chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Nothing…it’s nothing” Hongjoong laughs, sitting back in his chair, “Maybe I should keep my comments to myself.”

“Maybe you should…” Woo snaps.

San clears his throat, rising from the table before the situation can escalate, “I have to go make a quick call. Baby, could you come with me?”

Woo doesn’t respond and he isn’t pretending to be hard of hearing this time. He and Hongjoong are having a staring contest. A silent war as violent as if someone had thrown a punch. 

“Wooyoung!” San says with more bass in his voice this time. It’s enough to snap Woo out of it but he still lingers a moment before getting up himself. 

Taking you by the hand, Woo stares down at you, searching your face for any sign that Hongjoong’s words hurt your feelings. “You’ll be okay?” 

You nod, presenting him with a smile that you hope soothes him a bit. “I’m okay. Just go.” 

San pets your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Be back in a second.” 

You watch as San walks Woo outside like a mother about to lay into her child for misbehaving. As calm as you’ve remained all night, you can’t hide your own irritation at the way Hongjoong’s been acting. It isn’t Woo’s fault that he decided to say something so rude. Whatever problem he has with you is with you. Woo and San shouldn’t be a part of it.

Turning back to the table you find that all conversation of a New Year’s Eve celebration has ended. Everyone’s dead silent, unsure of what to say, if there’s anything to say at all. 

“If you have something to say to me, why not just say it?” you ask, “Or are we just intent on acting like children tonight?”

“This meal is delicious, isn’t it? Really. I know we come here all the time but there’s something about it tonight” Yunho interrupts in an attempt to keep the peace. 

Seonghwa shakes his head at him, his own history as the peacemaker teaching him that it’s not worth it. When Hongjoong’s in a mood he’s in a mood and there’s nothing to be said about it. 

Hongjoong shrugs, poking around at his plate, “I don’t have anything to say really. I’m just curious—I think we all are—about what’s going on here.”

Your eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong looks to Woo’s seat then to San’s and right back at you, the girl at the center of it all. “I know we’re all close but the way you three have been acting lately goes a little beyond close. You can’t blame us for thinking…”

“Thinking what?” You look around the table, hoping that one of your friends will jump in and tell Hongjoong how silly he’s being. Instead they avert eye contact. They treat you like you’re a stranger and, in the world of the secret whisperings among them, that’s exactly what you are. It takes a moment for Hongjoong’s words to make sense. He said something without saying it and it’s clear he’s not the only person with that on the tip of their tongue.

The moment it hits you, your palms begin to sweat, the air around you growing hotter. You try your best to act clueless, pretending to have no idea where they’d get these ideas from. It’s not because you have anything to hide. Nothing has happened between the three of you and nothing will. But sometimes you’ve felt it—a tingle when Woo’s holding your hand or those butterflies when you’re cuddled up with San. It’s a purely platonic act on their part, there’s nothing more to it, but the feelings are there whether you like it or not and the idea that anyone else can see it is frightening. 

“You can’t be serious. You don’t think…they’re my best friends, like we all are. There’s nothing…they don’t even like girls” you stutter, a shaky hand reaching for the neck of your wine glass. 

Yeosang’s eyes widen at your declaration and he has to reach for a glass of water to keep from choking on his food. 

Mingi quirks his head at you, shooting a quick glance at Hongjoong. “Who told you that?” 

“Told me what?”

Jongho laughs to himself, tickled by this exchange. “That they don’t like girls.”

“But they don’t. They’re gay.” 

“Oh, honey” Hongjoong sighs, letting up on you for the first time tonight, “We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.” 

You open your mouth to say something more, you aren’t even sure what that is, but the feeling of San’s hand on your shoulder makes you swallow your words. 

“What are we talking about?” he asks, taking his seat at your side. He looks to you only, picking up on your nervousness in an instant. His face turns serious and you place a gentle hand on his knee, softening him if only a bit. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. 

San leans in closer to you, pinning you down to your seat without even touching you. “I don’t know, is it?” 

Woo swats him away from you, having already gotten his fill of his boyfriend’s lecturing outside. He doesn’t need him doing it to you too. “San, please. You told me I had to play nice. That goes for both of us, doesn’t it?”

San backs off, as much as he hates to do it. He knows something is up but, at the risk of being a hypocrite, he lets it go. The conversation quickly switches back to discussions about parties—who else they’ll invite and who’ll do all the cooking—yet you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. In your mind there’s only a loop of Hongjoong’s comment. 

“Oh, honey. We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m driving you home” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s car keys. 

“I’m fine. Trust me.” Mingi makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing them back but he’s in no shape to do it. He’s swaying back and forth, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink courtesy of those last three shots of soju. 

Gathered outside of the restaurant, your group lingers by the door, saying your goodbyes and trying to reel in the drunkest among you. It’s a clear night, the type that's perfect for counting stars, but you’re too busy freezing to revel in the magic of it. Earlier you left your jacket in the car, not thinking much of it until you stumbled out of the restaurant into an actual freezer.

San slips out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and giving your arms a quick rub to warm them up. “Look after this for me while I go grab the car.”

As San ventures off to find the car, Woo steps in front of you, coming in close to block the wind. 

“Goodnight you two” Hongjoong sings, winking at you over Woo’s shoulder. 

You groan and Woo lets out a skeptical “Goodnight” waving to the others until there’s only the two of you left. When his gaze drifts back to you, you try not to make eye contact but you can’t resist it. His eyes shimmer so gorgeously in the moonlight that it’s impossible not to be taken by them.

Rubbing his hands together, he presses them to your cheeks, squishing them together enough that you look like a little fish. Definitely the cutest fish he’s ever seen. It was his intention to warm you up but he has no clue how hot you burn for him, as hard as you try to fight it. 

“I don’t know if I told you this but you look beautiful tonight” he says, taking you in from head to toe, “That dress especially. It's lovely”

The dress in question, a black lace up mini dress, is indeed lovely. You’d ordered it on a whim during a late night shopping session and have been dying to wear it for weeks. When San suggested that you all match for dinner tonight, black on black all the way, you figured there was no time like the present. It’s more revealing than you’re used to and some part of you questioned if you should wear it or not but Woo’s complement did all that was needed to melt your doubts away. 

“You do too” you blush, straightening out his tie, “You look fancy.”

Woo tries to play it off but it’s always much too obvious when he’s flattered. “I try. You’ll always be the prettiest one in the room but I have to try to give you some competition, don’t I?” 

“Are you attempting to flatter me, Wooyoung?”

Woo moves closer to you, his breath tickling your face as he speaks, “I don’t know. Am I?” 

It’s back. That tingle you feel whenever Woo does something like this. You feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes. Soon it’ll spread everywhere else, overtaking you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. The longer he stares at you the worse it’ll be. He’s sealing your fate, damning you to a night spent trying to chase these feelings away. 

“Are you gonna get in or do you two plan to walk home?” San shouts, honking the horn. 

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve been saved. Just barely. 

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up men from random street corners?” Woo jokes, turning to greet San. 

San leans over, pushing the passenger’s side door open, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.” 

Woo laughs, doubling back to grab you, “You ride in the front tonight, okay, beautiful?”

It’s a question that isn’t a question. You always ride shotgun—they insist upon it—so you hop into the car before Woo’s tempted to scoop you up and set you in there himself. He will do it.

Tossing himself into the back, Woo slams the door closed, spreading out across the seat as the car hums down the city street. It’s a quiet, peaceful ride and it only occurs to you after a few minutes that it’s strangely quiet. There’s always a debrief after dinner. Woo never misses out on the chance to gossip with you and San lives for it even though he’s fond of pretending he doesn’t but tonight’s different. Something’s off.

You switch on the radio, hoping that the introduction of a little music will keep your mind from wandering, but San flicks it off the moment that you do. 

“When we came back to the table, what were you talking about?” he asks, catching you off guard. San’s not the type to let things go, you’ve always known that, but you thought maybe this time you'd luck out. You thought wrong. 

Woo sits up, combing his dark hair back from his face, “San, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting” he swears, “I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Well…” Woo muses, cutting his eyes over at you, “It would be nice to know. I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

You stare out of the window, unable to face either of them. Woo’s right, you don’t keep secrets. Maybe a long time ago it would’ve been forgivable to keep some things to yourself but now? The three of you have gotten so close that it seems almost blasphemous to lie to them. 

“The guys think that there’s something going on between the three of us…” you spill out and you’d swear you sucked all of the air from the car. 

“Oh…”

“Oh…” 

That’s all you’re left with. Now you have to look at them. You have to see their faces and know that you haven’t upset them. “I told them that there wasn’t though! The only thing between us is friendship. That’s it.” 

“Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?” Woo asks and San does nothing to stop him. 

You let out a nervous laugh, convinced that he’s messing with you. “Woo, I’m being serious.”

San takes a deep breath, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as you approach a red light. “So are we.”

“So…” Woo says, his words more deliberate this time, “Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?”

There’s so much weight to that question—almost too much for you to handle. After your breakup you were a total wreck. It felt like someone had torn your heart out and ripped it to pieces. How couldn’t it belong to them when they were the ones who put it back together? 

“What if what I feel is wrong?” you ask, the rush of emotion forcing your voice to crack. 

San holds his hand out to you and you feel a sense of calm wash over you as you take it. He interlocks his fingers with yours, planting slow sweet kisses along the back of your hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, sweetheart.”

Woo caresses your cheek, his chin propped up on the back of your chair as he studies you from the backseat. “We feel it too” he sighs, taken by your beauty, “You’re an easy girl to fall for.”

“Woo” you giggle, your gaze falling to your lap where your free hand’s fidgeting with the lace trim of your dress. 

“Stop it, baby, you’re embarrassing her” San says, coming to your rescue as usual.

“Embarrassing her how? She knows how perfect she is” Woo coos, pinching your cheek, “I tell her everyday.” Settling back into his seat, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking it on to scroll through his notifications. 

San winks at you, raising your hand to his lips to give it one last kiss. He goes back to driving so casually that you’re left wondering if everything that just happened was all in your head. It’s the strangest thing, how they can be so laid back about a confession that’s turned your world upside down—changed everything you knew in an instant. Maybe it’s because they always knew.

When Woo and San first met they knew the two of them belonged together. Their bond was something they never had to question, it simply was the way things were supposed to be. And when you entered the picture it was no different. You moving in only cemented it. You belonged there with them—in their home, in their arms. They’d love you, protect you, do everything in their power to put a smile on that beautiful face.

Just like the one you have now. The one Woo keeps catching in the rearview mirror and San keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Woo wasn’t lying. You are a very easy girl to fall for. They’re doing it right now. 

To anyone who knows you, visiting your apartment makes for a fun game. Your arrival here led to a little redecorating on Woo and San’s part. They insisted on moving some things around to make room for what you loved. If you saw a lamp you wanted, if there was a painting you had your eye on, anything at all and it was yours.

So whenever one of the guys is over and a new piece is spotted they like to bet who it belongs to. An easy task at first, it’s grown much more difficult over time. “It’s like you’re becoming the same person” Yeosang will say in a spooky voice, experiencing what might be actual fear of who’s becoming a clone of who. He loves you all but multiples of any of you is a recipe for disaster.

Your friends’ teasing aside, you love the place you call home. This cozy two bedroom is a seamless fusion of the three of you. It’s your safe place. Where you all run back to for comfort after a long day out in the world. All night it’s sat undisturbed, awaiting your return, and your grand entrance doesn’t disappoint.

The apartment door pushes open, flooding the dimly lit apartment with a choppy but spirited rendition of one of Woo’s favorite songs. He’s been playing it nonstop for the past two weeks and during the last half of the ride home he stole the aux cord to force you both to listen. Blame the alcohol or call it brainwashing but you and San were feeling it tonight. So much that you sang and danced your way from the parking garage, probably waking up the whole neighborhood. 

Singing a lyric even you’re shocked you remember, you do a little shuffle, kicking your heels off at the door. San does a shimmy behind you, dropping his next to yours. Woo grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his, and you bring San right along with you. You’ve had enough of these late night dance sessions—more than any of you will admit—for your bodies to be totally in sync as you dance around the apartment.

Taking you by the hand, San twirls you in a circle and that last sip of wine kicks in immediately, the room still spinning even after you’ve stopped. Luckily Woo’s quick on his feet, catching you from behind. 

“Clumsy much?” he cackles, arms looped around your waist. 

You spin around, scrunching your face up at him, “Do you think you’re funny? Cause you’re not.”

You feel San’s arms close around you from the other side. His muscles make every hug a bear hug and you’ve never minded one bit.

“You’re prettier when you aren’t being a brat” he says, fingertips tracing the immaculate outline of Woo’s cheek. 

Woo nuzzles into his touch like a cat being scratched at just the right spot. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And a brat” San makes a point of saying, “But pretty? Definitely.”

Woo and San flirting is nothing new to you, you’ve seen it enough that it doesn’t even phase you, but this is the first time you’ve ever been in the middle of it. Physically wedged between them, feeling their temperatures rise as San cups Woo’s face and leans in for a kiss.

Good manners dictate that you shouldn’t stare but you aren’t sure what else you can be expected to do. Their lips look so fluffy as they meet. They kiss each other with equal parts desire and restraint. Their longing for each other radiates off of them and soaks into you. But that longing’s not only theirs, it’s yours too. Something new has been awakened inside of you and it has your heart racing. 

San draws in a breath as their lips part, a light chuckle leaving him at the star crossed look in your eyes. “You know…” he hums, his hand finding your throat, “We’ve always wondered what your lips taste like.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Can I taste them?”

A floaty “Yes” leaves your lips and time seems to slow to a crawl as he lulls you into a kiss that has the room spinning again. His lips are as soft as they appeared and he pours into you that same desire, that same longing. Restraint? Now that’s a different story. The deeper he kisses you—his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth—the harder it is to hold back. 

“You can’t have her all to yourself” Woo says, tugging San’s hair to break the kiss, “I want some of her too.” 

You hardly have a chance to recover from San’s kiss when Woo’s pressing his lips to yours, making you feel light headed all over again. He floods you with more of the same feelings but there’s something different about the way that he kisses you. He abandons any hope of containing his desires, his lips feverishly moving against yours. He hums at the taste of you, like you’re his new favorite dessert and all he wants is more. 

“It’s getting late, Woo. I think we should go to bed. Don’t you?” San asks, running his fingers along your hips. 

Woo nods, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Mmhmm.”

They slip away from you, heading for the hallway that leads to their bedroom. How cruel it is of them to just leave you standing here with your head all foggy and your cutest panties soaked through. You lean against the back of the couch, missing the contact but grateful for the chance to catch your breath. With all the air you were losing you might’ve fainted otherwise. 

“Are you coming?” San calls out, lingering just outside of his bedroom. The light from the bedroom bathes the dark hallway in a warm glow that reflects off of San’s chest as he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one. 

You cross your legs, hoping to quiet the noise between them that’s only worsened at the sight of his bare skin. “Uh, yeah, I just, uh…have to get out of this dress first.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart” he smiles, amused by your shyness, “We can help with that.”

Your body moves as if it has a mind of its own. Each step towards him is so delicate you’d be forgiven for thinking that you floated your way to him. Placing a hand on the small of your back, San ushers you into the bedroom where an already shirtless Woo stands by the dresser fussing with his watch. 

“Somebody need help with something?’ Woo asks, shaking his wrist free of the designer watch. 

San brushes past you, tossing his own shirt onto the bed. “Her dress. She needs help getting out of it.” 

Setting his watch down on the dresser, Woo crosses the room, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He locks eyes with you, telling you to come to him without having to say it. There’s a pull to them. Like gravity holds you to the ground, your heart holds you to them. You’ve always felt it but tonight it’s infinitely stronger. They could call you to the moon and you’d find a way there.

“It really is a beautiful dress” Woo says, his hands tracing your figure the moment you’re within reach. He spreads his legs, bringing you in close enough to feel the tip of his nose graze the softness of your belly through the fabric. “It suits your figure well, not that a body like yours needs much help.” His palms come to rest at your hips, indulgent fingers massaging them as his thumbs ease the fabric higher and higher above your thighs. 

“You’re always so sweet to me” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “If you’re not careful one day it’ll all go to my head.” 

Pausing to admire the plushness of your thighs, he trails kisses along them, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. “Good” he grins, pushing your dress above your waist. His hands slip back down to your thighs, another pair of hands gripping your dress from behind. 

“You should let things get to your head more” San whispers into your ear, the defined muscles of his chest flush against your back. There’s something else pressed against you too. Something thick and hard poking into the tender flesh of your now exposed ass. Mindlessly you press back into it, breath hitching as you feel his need grow even stronger from your teasing.

“I think you let someone make you forget how special you are” Woo says, placing a kiss achingly close to your core, “But that’s okay. We’ll remind you.” 

Woo’s tongue darts out, gliding up and down to taste you through panties already dripping with your essence. Easing your thighs apart, he tucks your panties to the side, a solitary finger petting your slippery entrance. A pulse of warmth ripples through you, pooling right between your legs where the tip of Woo’s tongue has found your clit, twirling around the bundle of nerves so artfully that any remaining ability you had to think straight simply falls away. Looping an arm around your right thigh, he hoists it up, throwing it over his shoulder. 

Instinctively you look down but gain only the briefest glimpse of his head diving between your thighs before your dress is flying over your head, slinking to the ground beside you. You didn’t wear a bra tonight, the dress wouldn’t allow you to, and San’s grateful for it. That’s one less thing between him and those breasts that bounce against your chest so deliciously. He captures them in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms. 

“So soft” San mumbles, suckling at the fragrant skin of your neck.

Shaping your breasts beneath his touch, he takes two fingers and lightly strokes your nipples. You let out the sweetest, softest moan and he pinches your nipples, beyond pleased at how that moan falls apart on the tip of your tongue. For every moan you let out he pinches them harder, pushing you further, just to see how much you can take or how much you want to take.

Your head falls back and San kisses your neck with even more hunger than before, leaving a trail of marks behind that will no doubt be hickeys by morning. Tears decorate your lashes like constellations, the overstimulation wrecking every part of you. 

“You’re clenching like crazy, sweetie. You want something to fill you up?” Woo asks, his finger still stroking your slit, torturing you with the possibilities. 

You whine, hips attempting to sink down onto his finger, but San grips you tighter, forcing you to straighten up. 

“You have such a pretty voice” San taunts, dipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit, “Use it. You want us to fill you up or not, baby?” 

Your breaths quicken, body trembling as you grab onto San’s arm, nails raking his skin. “Ah, I want it, Sannie. I want you to fill me up, pretty please.”

“Oh, pretty please? How can we say no to that?” Woo grins, gathering your arousal with his fingertips. He eases further onto the bed, lying back to watch how his fingers glisten in the light. “Come here, sweetie.” 

San slows his movements, kissing you tenderly as he lets you down gradually before placing you on the bed. You get on your hands and knees without being told, crawling up the bed until San grabs your hips, stopping you when your face hovers just above Woo’s waist.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Woo tilts your head up, raising his soaked fingers to your honeyed lips. San’s hands collide with your plump ass, the sting making you cry out and forcing your lips to part just enough for Woo’s fingers to slip in between them. You’ve never tasted yourself before, it’s something you never dared to try, but as Woo coats your tongue in your own juices you find yourself enjoying it so much that you’re sucking on his fingers, praying for more.  

Behind you San’s rubbing your ass to soothe the sting, his eyes glued to your dripping entrance. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman that he’d forgotten how pretty a pussy could be and yours is without a doubt as pretty as they come. Your folds are so soft, your hole so needy and wet, that his cock’s straining against his zipper, aching to have you. 

“Does your tongue feel this good when you do everything?” Woo asks when his fingers pop free from your mouth. 

Placing your hand on the bulge that awaits inches from your face, you let your palm ride the outline of his cock. “Let me show you.”

Woo’s caught off guard by your boldness but it only makes him want you more. Unzipping his pants, there’s little you have to do to free him from his underwear. His cock’s eager to meet you, throbbing and leaking as you stroke his length. You circle the pink tip with your tongue, dragging it across the top to collect his arousal. Your fingers wrap around the base, keeping him in place as your lips wrap around his cock, stretching to take his thickness.

You’ve seen their cocks before, by accident of course, and somewhere in the filthiest corners of your mind you always wondered what it’d be like to have one in your mouth. Now you know and you love everything about it. How comfortably he fits in your mouth. How you can feel all the finer details of his cock with your tongue. And those noises he makes when the tip hits the back of your throat—moaning like he’s never felt anything better—are like music to your ears.

“San!” you want to cry out when he grabs you by your hips, thrusting his cock into you. Of course you can’t talk. With Woo’s cock shoved this far down your throat you can only mumble, drooling down his length while San’s pulsing against your walls. For a quick second, quicker than you can blink, your vision goes blurry. When San asked if you wanted to be full he meant full. Bottomed out, stretched to the brink, feeling all of him with nothing left to desire. 

San leans forward, kissing along your spine. “You took me so well, baby. You’re being such a good girl for us tonight.” 

He snaps his hips into you again and you arch your back, causing him to slam right into your sweet spot. You tremble and he knows he’s found it, the one spot that’s gonna make you unravel for him. You’re in no position to see him—in fact, you’re in the perfect position not to—but it makes him happy. He’s determined to make you feel good, every stroke of his cock dedicated to making you lose it.

But he can’t begin to ignore how good this feels for him too. Your walls are velvety and smooth, clinging to him as he glides in and out of your tight little hole. Each time he thrusts into you the force travels through your perfect figure, bouncing you right back onto him. San knows he’s bottomed out but somehow you seem to be sucking him in deeper, his abs tightening at the tension already building in his abdomen. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Look at you” San groans, pulling back enough to see the juices trickling out of you. 

Gripping the blanket with one hand, you try to use all of your strength to prop yourself up but you can’t. San’s thrusts are too powerful, the pleasure’s too strong, and your body’s going limp. Cupping your fluffy cheeks, Woo pets them, pressing his cock even further down your throat. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just let go.” 

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you do your best to let go of it—of everything. Your muscles begin to relax, the full weight of your body falling into their hands. Between them they develop a rhythm, pleasing your holes in perfect synchronicity. You’re dripping from both ends, clenching and sucking, moaning and whining. You’re a perfect little mess. Everything they could ever ask for.

There’s something ethereal about being between the two of them. Your body feels light, like you're floating somewhere else but you’re right here with them. Not being fucked, being made love to. Being treated like every part of your body is this sacred thing that they’re so grateful to have.

“I wish you could see yourself right now” San sighs, running his hands down your sides, “Our pretty girl.” 

Their pretty girl. It does something to you to be called that. It breaks you in a million ways. All the best ones. A swell of energy builds in your body, like a tree growing and spreading its branches out to the furthest reaches of your form. 

“Mmmm…” you whine, heavy lids rising to flash those gorgeous glassy eyes up at Woo. 

San feels your hips stutter and catches you, keeping you steady. “You ready to cum, baby?”

You nod, puffy lips still too tightly wound around Woo’s cock to make out words. Could you if he even let you?

“That’s it. Cum all over Sannie’s cock” Woo coos, his thumb brushing your quivering bottom lip, “Just like that. Good girl.”

Your mind goes blank, void of the faintest thought of anything. You’re caught in the ecstasy of your high, walls fluttering as you squirt down San’s cock. He quickens his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm long enough that when his finally hits you’re still pulling him in, milking him of every drop of cum he has.

Riding out his high, San pushes you forward, forcing your lips to meet the base of Woo’s cock. Woo raises his hips, sloppy movements bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s spilling down your throat, filling your cheeks with warm white liquid. He slips out of your mouth and you collapse onto his stomach, gasping for air as you try to recall which planet you’re on. 

Completely spent, a dizzy San collapses on the bed beside his boyfriend, intentionally leaving enough room for you. “Are you sleeping there tonight?” he teases.

“No” you pout, motioning to hit him on the arm but making no impact at all. It’s like trying to punch someone in a dream. Nothing. 

San catches your arm, pulling you into the space between them. “Are you usually violent after your orgasms?”

Woo tucks an arm around you, lovingly kissing your shoulder. “Not that we’re complaining. I’ve been known to like a little slap sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that next time” you promise, responding to his kiss with one of your own to the bridge of his nose. Turning to San, you kiss him on the cheek, giggling at how his face lights up at the sweet gesture. 

Settling into each other’s embrace, the chatter quiets but not awkwardly so. There’s a sense of peace in each other’s company. A comfort in this newfound feeling of completion. All this time you’ve been together but never quite in the way that any of you wanted. There was always a barrier, something unspoken keeping you from letting your true feelings show, and now that’s melted away leaving only the three of you together. 

“Baby” San whispers after some time has passed. Your head’s resting on his chest and he rubs your cheek, signaling to you that he needs to get up. “I’m gonna go run us a shower, okay?”

He sits up, ready to hop out of bed, when you throw your arms around him and drag him back down. “No. You whine” throwing on your best baby face, “You stay.” 

“Oh my god. I have two of you now” he laughs, too soft for you to resist your pouting. 

“Oh? You have me now?” 

Woo props himself up on his elbow, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Don’t we?” he asks, drawing on your naked body with his fingertips. The question is playful but there’s a seriousness to it that can’t be ignored. 

You let the question sink in, realizing for the first time that you don’t have to pretend anymore. “Yes, you have me” you sigh, batting your pretty doe eyes. 

“It’s settled then. You’re all ours” San smiles, cuddling back up beside you.

Woo lays back down, nestling his face against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Your bodies fit back together like the pieces of a puzzle. Everything about this feels right. Every small moment so special. There’s romance in each other’s breaths. Intimacy in even the faintest brush of your skin against theirs as you shift in the bed. You could stay here forever. And you intend to.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ darling, j. bellingham. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend jude has been nothing but sweet the entire time you've been together. who knew a number 10 jersey with his name on the back would affect him so much?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lil fic for jude <3. partially inspired by the 3-0 win over greece, but if it happened at wembley instead. really tried with the brit slang, someone pls confirm if it's shirt instead of jersey lol. day seven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, trent being trent, oral fixation (kinda), oral sex (69), american writing english people.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: jude bellingham x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.2k.

"You look stunning babes!" Tolami practically shrieked as your approached the cluster of WAGs, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The group of stylish women, all dressed to the nines in various shades of red and white to support the team, were huddled together, greeting each other after several months away at their partners' respective clubs. You had gone all out for today's match, your nails painted in the team's colors and your hair styled in perfectly poised waves that highlighted your cheekbones and the delicate gold hoops that danced against your neck.

"Thanks, love," you replied with a warm smile, giving your friend a quick hug. "I couldn't be caught looking anything less than leng next to you."

You glanced around the exclusive VIP area, your eyes scanning the pitch where the players were beginning their warm-ups. The electric atmosphere of the stadium was palpable, the throb of excitement pulsing through the air. The scent of freshly cut grass and the distant murmur of the crowd grew louder as you and Tolami took their seats.

During the match, your eyes never left Jude. His agility and precision on the pitch were mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride watching him command the midfield. Each time he looked up at your section, his gaze searching for yours, you felt a flutter in your stomach. When he scored the game's second goal with a powerful strike from just outside the box, the women erupted in cheers, and you were on your feet, your hands covering your mouth in shock and delight.

After the final whistle, the team huddled together, their faces a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd's roar was deafening as the players began to make their way towards the tunnel, and your heart raced in anticipation. He raised his hand up, gesturing for you to wait, and you nodded, your cheeks heating up under the ooh's of the other girls.

Once the team had disappeared into the depths of the stadium, you made your way down to the VIP lounge. The thrill of victory still hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and the tang of energy drinks. You chatted idly with Tolami and Megan as you waited for the players to emerge from the locker room, your laughter echoing off the walls. When Jude finally appeared, Trent Alexander-Arnold by his side, your shoulder relaxed in relief.

"Y/N," the Liverpool man called out to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "How's Jude holding up with that No Nut November bet? You keeping him honest, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a sigh at the juvenile banter that was a staple of the footballers' friendship. "Unfortunately, he's been a saint."

"It's only a matter of time before Trent gives up," Jude said, his own grin spreading as he approached the group of you. "Don't jinx it."

You playfully swiped at him, your eyes lighting up. "You know I believe in you."

Jude leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

As the two of you walked out of the stadium, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the heat of the game, Jude's hand found yours, his grip firm and possessive. The short drive to your flat seemed to take forever, the silence between you charged with unspoken thoughts. The streets of London were alive with fans, their cheers and chants a distant backdrop to your own private world.

Once inside, you slipped out of your shoes with a sigh of relief, and Jude's eyes followed your every move. He couldn't take his gaze off the England crest and his name emblazoned on the back of your shirt.

"You know, it's weird," he began, his voice a little rough. "Seeing you with my name on your back... it's like you're mine. Like, really mine."

You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that all it takes to make me yours?"

Jude took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "You know it's more than that, babe." He reached out, his fingers tracing the letters of his surname on the fabric of your shirt. "But seeing you wear this, supporting me with my name on your back, it just makes me want to show you off."

You felt a thrill run through you at his words. You stepped closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "What's stopping you, Bellingham?"

Jude didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you into his arms, kissing you with a hunger that surprised you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the warmth of his skin melting through the cool material of the shirt. You stumbled into the bedroom, your kisses growing more urgent as you went.

You broke away, your breathing heavy, and looked at him with a glint of challenge in your eyes. "You know, if you want to keep that bet with Trent..."

Jude's smoldering gaze stuck to your face as he peeled the shirt over your head, revealing the lacy lingerie you had chosen just in case. "We don't have to tell him," he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as his voice rumbled deliciously down your spine.

With a laugh that was half moan, you stepped away from him, slipping out of your jeans. "You're so full of it," you said, your voice breathless with excitement. "You can't just cheat your way out of a bet. What's the point?"

Jude's eyes never left yours as he shed his own clothes, his eyes dark with desire. "Who said anything about cheating?" he murmured, advancing on you with a predatory grace. "I'm just saying, a man's got needs, and you're looking too good. Who am I to resist what's mine?"

You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as Jude reached out, his fingertips tracing the edge of your bra. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, the air between the two of you crackling with sexual tension. "You're insatiable," you whispered, your voice a little shaky.

"Just for you," Jude said, his voice a gruff promise. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kissed you again, deep and demanding. His touch was possessive, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word. Your own hands roamed over his muscular chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

With a growl, he picked you up, carrying you to the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body fitting against his like they were two pieces of a puzzle. The bedroom was a blur of movement as you tumbled onto the bed, the soft sheets contrasting with the hardness of his body. Jude's kisses grew more insistent, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth as his hands moved to the clasp of your bra.

The sound of the fabric giving way was lost in your muffled moans. His thumbs grazed your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, your skin flushing with desire. "Jude," you gasped, your voice a whimper of need. He broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your exposed chest with a look that seemed to blister your skin.

Without wasting a moment, Jude's mouth found your breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive peaks before his tongue swirled around them. Your breath hitched, your fingernails digging into his back as the sensation washed over you. "Jude, more, please," you begged, your voice a throaty whisper. Jude's mouth continued its movements as he complied, his teeth tugging gently before his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling with a fervor that had your back arching off the bed.

Jude's hands roamed your body, his thumbs dipping into your waistband to tease the sensitive flesh just above your hips. Your hands weren't idle either, exploring the planes of his back, your nails scraping against the firm muscles as you pulled him closer.

With a sudden jolt of energy, you rolled the two of you over so you were on top, straddling him. "My turn," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with arousal. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw before you leaned down to kiss him, your teeth grazing his bottom lip before your tongue darted out to taste him. His hands moved to your hips, his grip tightening as you began to rock against him, feeling his length grow beneath you.

Jude's breath hitched as you kissed along his neck, your teeth scraping the sensitive skin just enough to make him shiver. He could feel the heat building between you two, the need growing more intense with every passing moment. "Serena," he groaned, his voice thick with want.

With a wicked smile, you slid off him, your eyes studying his face as you reached for his boxers. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every touch. Finally, you pulled them down, revealing his hard length. You took him in your hand, stroking him gently, watching his reaction with a sense of power that thrilled you to the core.

Jude's eyes rolled back, his hips bucking upward as you touched him. "Fuck," he muttered, his hand coming up to cover yours, guiding your movements. "You're killing me, babe."

Your smile grew wider as you leaned into him, your breath hot against his skin. "Good things come to those who wait," you sang under your breath, your teeth grazing his earlobe. You kissed a trail down his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs before finally reaching his cock. You took him into your mouth, the velvet heat of your lips wrapping around him, your tongue swirling in a way that made him groan.

His hands tangled in your hair as you took him deeper, your movements deliberate and teasing. He could feel the tension in his body winding tighter and tighter, the urge to push you down and fuck you senseless growing stronger with every passing second. "Babe, hold on," he ground out, his voice tight with restraint. "Sit on my face, 69. Wanna taste you."

With a light giggle, you complied, straddling his head. The scent of your arousal filled the room, making his mouth water as his tongue found your clit. You gasped, your movements faltering as you focused on the delicious sensation of his mouth on you. Your hand stroked him in time with his tongue, the sound of your moans mixing with the wetness of your desire.

Your body began to tense, your movements growing more frantic as you felt the orgasm building within you. Jude's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling in a pattern that had you seeing stars. "Oh god," you whispered, your voice a hoarse plea.

Jude felt your thighs tighten around his head, your body shaking with the beginnings of climax. With a triumphant groan, he pushed his tongue deeper, feeling your muscles spasm as you came. Your hips rocked against his face, your tongue still working his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and with a final, desperate stroke, he too reached the edge, his body tensing as he released into your mouth.

You sat up, swiping your tongue across your lips, a smug smile playing on your face as you turned to face your boyfriend. Jude all but whimpered as your mouth fell open to reveal you had swallowed him completely. With a giggle, you watched as Jude lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes closed in bliss.

"All this over a shirt?" you teased, your voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

"It's not just the shirt," he murmured, his eyes finally opening to meet yours. "It's knowing that you're mine, that you're supporting me in every way possible." He reached up, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "That I'm the one who gets to take you home after games like this."

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Jude's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hands roaming over your body in a silent show of strength and possession.

Your bodies were slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison as you broke away, panting for air. Jude rolled you over again, his muscles flexing as he positioned himself above you, his cock still hard and demanding. "Round two?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr.

Your eyes widened, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of pleasure. "You're unbelievable," you whispered, but you didn't protest as he nudged your thighs apart. Jude's gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust as he settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt the heat of him, the promise of more pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ CHEOLNA MOMENTS THAT MAKE ME QUESTION JEONGHAN’S BOUNDARIES (HE HAS NONE) ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: Seungcheol and Luna acting like an old married couple while Jeonghan watches from the sidelines, questioning his life choices and their boundaries— because they clearly have none.

i have said it once and i will say it again… this might be the best thumbnail edit i have ever made 😝 anyway! due to popular demand, here we finally have the highly anticipated CheolNa moments!! i love these two so much! it was so fun writing this and reading all your requests!! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did! see you on the next one, my lovelies!! 💖💖💖

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

indented italics are additional voice overs

Hey besties. Welcome back to the inside of my brain rot. If you’re new here— first of all, I’m sorry. But also, welcome to the void.

So. A couple years ago I dropped a video that none of us have emotionally recovered from titled: ‘Jealousy Never Looked This Good: Inside the Jeonghan-Luna-Mingyu Triangle’. It was dramatic, it was hot, and it had more tension than my last situationship. Honestly? Oscar-worthy.

BUT. As time passed, the fandom evolved, my delusions got worse, and a new triangle began to form.

Not fueled by jealousy. Not fueled by rivalry. But by pure unfiltered chaos and the complete collapse of personal boundaries.

Yes. I’m talking about the Jeonghan-Luna-Seungcheol dynamic. Or as I like to call them, ‘the soft launch polycule no one asked for but now can’t live without.’

The thing is… unlike the Mingyu situation where Jeonghan was very much “girl, don’t even look at him, look at me,” this time around? It’s giving: “yeah baby, you can flirt with him. But only because I picked him and I’m lowkey also flirting with him.”

Because now that we officially know Jeonghan and Luna have been dating for YEARS— yes, confirmed, yes, engaged, yes, I’m still spiraling— it makes so much more sense why Jeonghan watches Cheol and Luna interact like he’s observing enrichment time at the zoo.

This man has no boundaries. Zero. None. Like he’d probably hand Luna a water bottle and whisper, “hydrate before you flirt with Seungcheol again, baby.”

And what’s worse? Luna’s just as bad. She flirts with Seungcheol like she forgot she’s taken. And Seungcheol? Sweet baby Seungcheol? He’s just standing there twirling his imaginary long hair, kicking his feet and giggling like “this is fine” while his friendship with Jeonghan slowly morphs into shared custody.

So anyway. This video isn’t just about my favorite CheolNa moments. It’s also about how I realized Jeonghan is the kind of boyfriend who lets you flirt with whoever you want as long as it’s someone of his choosing.

Honestly? Power move.

Anyway. Let’s begin.

THE CRUSH CONFESSION

Let’s start strong, shall we?

The chaos began exactly twenty-eight minutes and sixteen seconds into the live.

The set was a Carat fever dream— colorful streamers twisted around balloon garlands, paper confetti on every surface, and a massive “Happy 7th, Carats!” sign hanging crookedly above the sofa line where all fourteen members sat side by side. Platters of fried chicken, ramen bowls, sliced fruits, and soda cans were stacked like a tower of bad decisions on the table in front of them.

The whole vibe felt like a sleepover with too many extroverts and not enough filters.

Luna was settled toward the middle, comfortably with her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, wedged between Dino who had been quietly hoarding grapes and Seungkwan who was already eating dessert before dinner. A few seats down, Seungcheol was half-lounging with his arm hooked around the backrest, the very image of relaxed leader energy— until, of course, the chaos began.

They’re laughing, eating, throwing subtle jabs, and fielding live chat questions. Halfway through the stream, the conversation naturally veers off the rails (as always). It starts with reminiscing.

[i love them 🥹]

Seungkwan, mouth half-full and eyes already glinting with mischief, suddenly perked up. “Okay, wait,” he announced with the enthusiasm of someone about to start drama on purpose, “was there anyone you didn’t think you’d get along with during trainee days?”

A few members made thoughtful noises, but Luna didn’t even hesitate. She reached for a chopstick, picked up another bite of japchae, and said with complete nonchalance, “Cheollie.”

[girl said no hesitation. she’s been waiting for this moment since forever.]

Seungcheol’s offended “Why me?!” came just as the other members burst out laughing.

He wasn’t even seated directly next to her, but he craned his neck dramatically over the heads between them, his pout exaggerated and comical.

[when your gym crush says you were the reason she developed anxiety]

Luna just smirked and popped the noodles in her mouth before explaining, tone perfectly casual, “Cheollie was so annoying during our trainee years. He used to tease me so much during practice or during break… constantly. He would pop out of nowhere just to scare me, or pull my hair when I was tying my shoelaces. Constantly. It was like he had a sixth sense for whenever I was at peace.”

[CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!]

A mix of loud laughter and nostalgic groans erupted as a few members nodded knowingly. Jeonghan, sipping his drink lazily, just raised an eyebrow as if to say Sounds about right.

[Be so real this sounds exactly like a 6th grade crush and a lawsuit waiting to happen]

“Ah, so you didn’t think you’d get close because of that?” Seungkwan summarized between bites, his tone amused.

Luna nodded and reached for her soda. “Exactly.”

She lifted the can to her lips mid-sentence— and that was when Seungcheol, who had been eyeing her smugly the whole time, chose chaos.

[He WAITED until she started drinking. I can’t.]

“I liked you, duh. That’s what teenage boys do when they have a crush on a pretty girl.”

[HWHEHBEJWBUSNSHEVUW]

[I REMEMBER WATCHING THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!]

[THE WAY MY SOUL JUST EJECTED FROM MY BODY]

The words hit like a bomb.

[If Luna had a nickel for every SVT member who confessed to her, she’d have two nickels… she’d have three but I’m convinced SHE confessed to Jeonghan 🤭]

Luna choked.

Literally.

She sputtered mid-sip, the soda going down the wrong pipe as she bent over in a fit of coughs. Dino and Seungkwan instantly reached over to pat her back, both of them half-helpful and half-hysterical. Dokyeom clutched his chest like he’d just watched a K-drama twist happen live, while Hoshi let out the most high-pitched shriek imaginable.

[Miss thing went from sipping to slipping into the next dimension]

“Yah! Choi Seungc-c-heol!” Luna wheezed between coughs, eyes watering as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Seungcheol was grinning from ear to ear, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He leaned forward slightly with that same teasing glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying every second of her meltdown.

[Cheol, please, she’s on the brink of death]

[He woke up and chose ✨MAYHEM✨girl you mean to tell me he had a crush while calling her a goblin?!?]

Jun was howling, and even Vernon cracked a smile as if the simulation had finally glitched beyond repair.

Once Luna finally recovered, cheeks flushed from choking and the statement, her voice was raspy, “What kind of excuse was that?!” she tried to brush it off as she waved her hand, not wanting the fans to freak out even more than they already were.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan sat there unfazed, calmly chewing on a rice cake and nodding like this was all very old news. “A lot of people liked you back then,” he said with an easy shrug, his voice muffled slightly by food.

There was no jealousy. No surprise. Just casual confirmation.

Luna whipped her head toward him, scandalized. “You knew?!”

[Bae Jiyeon.exe stopped working]

Jeonghan didn’t even flinch. He just glanced at her, one brow lifted in amusement, before going back to his plate. “Mmm.”

[Not Jeonghan acting like she was the community crush]

[She was… she is.]

[Also! THESE TWO WERE ALREADY DATING AT THIS POINT!!? He is unfazed.]

And then, in perfect timing, Seungkwan deadpanned under his breath, “Only back then?”

[That moment when seungkwan becomes the voice of the fandom]

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even meant to be heard. But the camera caught the way he side-eyed Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Seungcheol— who were, in a tragic twist of fate, all seated directly next to one another.

Luna clocked the implication instantly.

[She said “Not today!”]

Eyes widening, she sat up straighter and immediately waved her hands. “Anyway!” she declared a bit too loudly. “What’s everyone’s favorite trainee meal memory? Huh? Remember ramen Sundays? Let’s talk about that!”

The boys groaned, some still laughing, some shaking their heads at the abrupt subject change, but they followed her lead.

[Diversion tactic 101 with Bae Jiyeon]

[She changed the topic like her publicist was in the room]

Later, the video would be clipped, subtitled, slowed down, and analyzed frame by frame.

For months, fans would speculate on that exact moment— on Luna’s reaction, on Seungcheol’s confession, on Jeonghan’s complete and utter chill.

But it wouldn’t be until a couple years later— when Luna and Jeonghan’s relationship was finally confirmed— that Carats would go back and realize what Seungkwan really meant.

And this scene? It became canon. Iconic. Historical footage.

[This live aged like wine and a little bit of delusion]

Jeonghan literally lets another man confess to his girl and just eats his food. Sir, where are your boundaries?!

He has none. This is what this video is for.

IN THE SOOP S2EP3

One of the cutest CheolNa moments 🥹 it’s so wholesome!

The sky was still dusted with traces of night when the camera panned to the main house, nestled in the quiet serenity of In the Soop.

It was just past 6 AM— early enough that the surrounding woods still hummed with the hush of dawn. Inside the house, most of the members remained fast asleep, cocooned in their blankets and dreams, unaware that one of them had already stirred.

Luna shuffled quietly out of her room, clad in oversized cotton pajama pants and a hoodie that draped over her frame like a blanket. Her hair was sleep-tousled, bangs puffed from the pillow, and as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm, a soft pout tugged at her lips.

[She said: “I woke up like this. I’m flawless.”]

She had no real destination, only the sleepy instinct to move. The main house was dim and still, the sun rays filtering through the windows and casting lazy stripes on the floor. She tiptoed past the kitchen, glanced toward the living room where someone had left a half-empty bag of chips open, then turned toward the sliding doors. With a tug, she slipped outside, the crisp morning air meeting her cheeks as she made her way across the grass toward the playhouse.

[The sun isn’t even up and she’s already giving drama main character energy]

The smaller cabin creaked slightly as she opened the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be there— why would anyone else be up at this ungodly hour? But when her eyes landed on the sofa, she paused mid-step.

Seungcheol was already there.

[BE SERIOUS. WHY IS HE READING AT 6AM LIKE A DAD?!?]

He was lounging with one leg tucked under the other, a book in hand, glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up the moment he heard the door open— and paused when he saw her.

His eyes softened instantly, the crease between his brows folding with concern. He closed the book without marking the page and asked quietly, “Why? What’s wrong?”

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Luna didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked toward him slowly, like a kid navigating the weight of a rough dream. Her voice was barely a mumble as she whispered, “Had a nightmare.”

[my baby 🥺]

Before he could respond, she threw herself down beside him and curled into his side, arms wrapping around his waist without a second thought. Seungcheol instinctively draped his arm around her, pulling her in as he adjusted slightly to make room. His hand rubbed slow circles against her back.

[JAJSBHWJWHSHSBHSHSHSB]

“What kind of nightmare?” he asked softly, his voice still a little raspy with morning.

[good lord 🫠]

But Luna didn’t answer. Her head was now resting on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed again. “Don’t remember,” she muttered, voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie.

[she’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die]

Seungcheol let out a quiet chuckle, eyes warm. “Of course you don’t.”

He didn’t press her after that. Instead, he reached for his book again with one hand while the other remained loosely curled around her.

The camera lingered on the two for a moment, wrapped in a hush that felt sacred.

[Why does this feel illegal to watch?]

[she literally crawled into his ribs like it was her bed. he didn’t even flinch.]

[boyfriend? no. service animal.]

Minutes passed. The page turned. Luna’s breathing evened out against his shoulder.

And then—

The crunch of gravel outside. Footsteps. Voices.

“Hyung, I swear the deer literally stared at me like I owed it money,” Dokyeom’s voice could be heard clearly before the door creaked open.

Jeonghan entered first, holding a coffee mug with one hand and the other stuffed in his hoodie pocket. Joshua followed with sleepy eyes, and Dokyeom brought up the rear, still laughing at whatever he’d just said.

They all froze the moment their eyes landed on the couch.

There was a beat of silence.

Jeonghan raised both brows and tilted his head slightly.

[The boyfriend be like: “Should I leave?”]

Then, Seungcheol— without shifting even an inch from his position— held a single finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he mouthed, glancing down at Luna, still curled against him.

[HE DID THE DAD SHHHHHH]

Joshua let out a silent “ohhh” as if they’d just walked into a room mid-confession. Dokyeom just gave a cartoonishly exaggerated wink before dragging Joshua by the sleeve toward the art supplies set up at the other end of the playhouse.

That left Jeonghan standing in place, mug halfway to his lips, eyes trained on the two on the couch.

Silently, he made his way over. The camera zoomed in just a little.

He didn’t say a word as he sat down on Luna’s other side, moving with the kind of casual intimacy only Jeonghan could pull off. His hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against Luna’s cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture so gentle it was barely a touch.

[I want what they hAvEee!!?]

His voice was quiet as he looked at Seungcheol. “What happened?”

Seungcheol glanced at him, then looked down at Luna, who had shifted slightly in her sleep but hadn’t stirred. “She had a nightmare,” he said simply.

[that’s all he said. BUT IT’S ENOUGH.]

Jeonghan hummed once and didn’t say anything else. He just leaned back against the sofa and kept watching Luna like he was trying to memorize her breathing pattern.

[THE WAY JEONGHAN JUST STARES AT HER FOR A SOLID MINUTES OR SO HAS ME 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[IT’S SO NATURAL FOR THEM!? WTF!??]

[THEY ARE SOOOO DOMESTIC]

The scene faded with the morning light growing brighter through the window, the sound of quiet brushes of paint and muffled laughter from the other side of the room.

GOING SEVENTEEN EP45 TTT #2 (HYPERREALISM VER.)

Here I present to you, one of the most chaotic GoSe episodes in existence.

Dinner had descended into pure, unfiltered chaos in the best way possible.

[MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE TTT EPISODE!]

The sun had long dipped behind the trees, leaving a soft navy blue sky streaked with moonlight and the warm golden glow of the outdoor lights the staff had set up earlier.

Inside the house, the long dining table was littered with empty bottles of soju and beer, tangerine peels, used chopsticks, torn napkins, crumpled tissue, two abandoned slippers, and at least one opened container of yukhoe that no one claimed.

[If you find your slipper at the end of this episode please DM us.]

The members had eaten like they hadn’t been fed in six days. Meat grilled at lightning speed, rice stuffed into lettuce wraps, screams exchanged over who stole the last piece of samgyeopsal, and five separate toasts later, everyone was just slightly too full, way too tipsy, and aggressively competitive about the dumbest drinking games.

“SEUNGKWAN, IT’S YOUR TURN, PICK A NUMBER!” Dino shouted, voice cracking as he waved a beer can in the air like a sword.

“I PICK SEVEN!” Seungkwan yelled back.

“That’s the punishment number! YOU’RE DOING THE DANCE!”

“WH—WHY IS SEVEN ALWAYS THE PUNISHMENT?!”

“BECAUSE WE SAID SO!”

[SVT x alcohol is another beast entirely]

And just like that, Seungkwan was up on a chair doing Twice’s choreography with a scowl on his face the mic up his mouth.

[This is not dinner. this is psychological warfare.]

[do you hear the people sing? singing the song of unhinged men.]

By now, the house had splintered into different zones of madness.

In the entertainment room, a whole arcade corner had been discovered, and Wonwoo and Vernon were now aggressively button-mashing a 2D fighting game, faces stone cold like it was a life-or-death situation.

“I swear to God if you spam that kick one more time—”

“Skill issue,” Vernon replied flatly.

[Testosterone levels are dangerously high.]

Right next to them, in the same room— because SEVENTEEN doesn’t believe in volume control— was the karaoke area, where Hoshi, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, and Dino had unofficially formed a boyband.

And they were screaming.

[They have absolutely lost what’s left of their minds]

Hoshi was on the floor, dramatically belting out Taeyang’s ‘Eyes, Nose, Lips,’ while Dokyeom provided backup vocals with tears of laughter streaming down his face. Dino was adding adlibs that didn’t exist.

[This is a live exorcism. please send thoughts and prayers.]

[Hoshi is actively going through a breakup with air right now.]

Meanwhile— on the other side of the room, nestled into the largest couch like royalty on thrones— were Jeonghan, Luna, Seungcheol, and Minghao.

They had drinks in their hands, snacks on their laps, and the same expression of bemused detachment as parents watching their children go absolutely feral.

[THEY ARE IN DISBELIEF 😂]

Jeonghan sipped lazily from his glass, legs crossed, eyes twinkling as he watched Dino hit a high note that sent the dog somewhere outside barking.

Minghao was leaned slightly into him, talking about something art-related that Jeonghan was nodding through without actually understanding.

And next to them— on the opposite end of the couch— was Luna.

She was curled into a pretzel shape, her knees pulled to her chest as she faced Seungcheol, who sat beside her with an arm resting lazily on the back of the couch. She was deep in story mode now— tipsy, glowing, and absolutely unstoppable.

[Drunk Luna is a vibe]

[She gets so chatty, it’s adorable]

Most people wouldn’t clock that she was drunk. She wasn’t slurring or stumbling. But to the people who knew her best— the rest of the members — it was so obvious.

The giggles. The clinginess. The nonstop storytelling. The pout that kept threatening to take over her entire face.

“—and then I told him,” Luna was saying, brows furrowed like this was the most serious tale she’d ever told, “I told him, ‘Sir, that’s not how you make kimchi jjigae, okay?’ Like. I’ve eaten that dish my whole life. My mommy would cry if she saw what he did to the tofu. She would cry, Cheollie.”

[I legit want to know how they got to this point in the conversation]

She poked his chest to emphasize her point. “He put pickles. PICKLES!”

[How dare he?!?]

[That’s actually nasty 😀]

Seungcheol chuckled, his eyes crinkled in amusement as he nodded along, clearly entertained. “That’s criminal behavior,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

“I KNOW!” she gasped, throwing her head back in horror before bursting into giggles again. “Like— like if I went to your mom’s house and put ketchup in galbijjim! You’d disown me!”

“I’d file for emancipation,” he nodded solemnly.

[Luna drunk-ranting about tofu is my roman empire.]

Luna pouted dramatically. “He ruined the tofu. The tofu did nothing wrong. It was just living its little tofu life.”

[Someone get her a mic she has THINGS TO SAY.]

[SHE IS ADORABLE THO 🥺]

“You should’ve called the police,” Seungcheol said with a straight face.

[Idk if he’s serious or if he’s messing with her!?!]

“I thought about it!” Luna wailed, before breaking into another wave of laughter.

Seungcheol just watched her, head tilted slightly, grin soft and fond in the corners of his lips. He looked utterly relaxed— shoulders slouched, eyes warm, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than here, letting this girl drunkenly yell about tofu and food crimes.

[HE IS SO SOFT FOR HER SJNSKWHDSJSUSUS]

[I mean, I don’t blame him.]

Minghao, who had been talking to Jeonghan beside them, turned then, tapping Seungcheol on the arm. “Hyung, I meant to ask you— what time are we starting that basketball thing tomorrow?”

Seungcheol blinked and turned away from Luna to answer. “Oh, I think around ten? The staff said we have time—”

But Luna had stopped talking mid-sentence.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between Minghao and Seungcheol, mouth parted in offense. Her pout deepened like she’d just been personally betrayed.

[GOOD LORD I WANT TO KEEP HER IN MY POCKET AND TAKE CARE OF HER 🥹🥹🥹]

[She was MID-STORY. HOW DARE HE.]

[the tofu deserves JUSTICE.]

Jeonghan spotted it instantly. He grinned into his drink, then leaned over and pointed a single finger at her. “Aigoo,” he laughed. “You’re so cute right now, Nana-ya. Seungcheol-ah, look— she’s sulking.”

He tapped Seungcheol’s knee twice like he was pressing a notification alert. “Your tofu queen is mad.”

[Jeonghan seeing Luna’s face change first 🤭]

Seungcheol turned back to find Luna still staring at him with wide doe eyes and a matching pout, curled tighter into herself like a very offended shrimp.

The second their eyes met, she didn’t even say anything— just looked at him with betrayal so pure and dramatic it could win awards.

Seungcheol burst into laughter. “Aigoo, Jiyeonie, okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her gently into his side. “My bad. I’m back. I’m listening. I’m all ears.”

[I simply cannot handle this anymore.]

Luna narrowed her eyes like she didn’t trust him.

“I promise,” Seungcheol whispered, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. “Tell me the rest. What happened to the tofu.”

[LAHHSHSHEVEJHDJEHSHHSJWUSEH]

“Well,” she huffed, shifting so she was pressed into his side, legs still curled up. “After he destroyed the tofu, he served it with this weird rice that had corn in it—like, not the good kind of corn, like the soggy canned one— and I just sat there like, ‘Is this a prank?’ Like, am I being filmed? Are there hidden cameras?”

[WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE GO?!]

“You were the victim,” Seungcheol nodded solemnly. “A culinary victim.”

“I was! And the worst part?” she said, gasping like she was about to drop the biggest bomb yet. “He said he learned it from YouTube. YouTube, Cheollie!”

“Immediate jail.”

Luna nodded furiously, pleased that he understood. “Thank you! Exactly!”

[her honor. her tofu.]

Seungcheol kept nodding along, completely focused on her, laughing at all the right moments, murmuring little “no ways” and “you’re kidding me” like she was reciting the epic tale of the century.

Which to her? She was. This was her TED Talk. Her tofu trauma testimony.

[This is the most unhinged therapy session i’ve ever witnessed.]

[THE TOFU DID NOTHING WRONG!!!]

Meanwhile, Jeonghan— who had been sipping his drink and watching the two like he was at a play— grinned slowly and tilted his head at the sight.

“Cute,” he murmured with a knowing smile, before he pushed himself up off the couch and walked across the room to where Hoshi had collapsed dramatically on the karaoke floor, head tilted back like Juliet in her final scene.

“Hoshi-ya,” Jeonghan said, crouching beside him. “Are you okay?”

[Hoshi was going through it this ep]

“No,” Hoshi croaked.

“Come on.” Jeonghan hooked an arm under his and pulled him up like dead weight.

And just like that, the night pressed on— wild and warm, full of laughter, chaos, karaoke, and tofu justice.

[We will never forget the tofu]

[tofu 4ever. pickles 4 never.]

LUNA’S AIRPORT SAESANG INCIDENT

This DESEVES an honorable mention.

Okay, okay, okay— Because THIS moment? DESERVES an honorable mention in the Best of CheolNa highlight reel.

No, actually— it deserves its own documentary.

Now if you’ve already watched my video “All Eyes on Her: Seventeen’s Ultimate Protective Moments,” then you KNOW exactly what’s coming.

If you haven’t? Babes. Pause this. Go watch it. Come back. Because the way Seungcheol launched into action like a man on a mission?

Chivalry is ALIVE and it looks like Choi Seungcheol.

So yeah. Honorable mention? Absolutely. Man of the century? YES. Hot as hell for reacting faster than anyone? YOU BET YOUR ASS.

And if this doesn’t confirm that Seungcheol is Luna’s unofficial bodyguard slash soft protector hybrid? I don’t know what does.

Anyway–

LOS ANGELES ‘RIGHT HERE’ WORLD TOUR DAY 1

This CheolNa moment is so bittersweet. Idk if i should cry or… cry…

The night had already been unforgettable.

The stage pulsed with light and sound, casting glows of red, blue, and gold over the packed arena. Fans screamed themselves hoarse, their chants rising in perfect rhythm with the beat.

Seventeen, Seventeen, Seventeen!

The energy in the arena felt like it could split the roof in half.

It was Day 1 of the ‘Right Here’ tour in Los Angeles.

[Day 1 of ‘RIGHT HERE’ tour LA was a MOVIEEEE.]

And despite the bittersweet sting of not having Jeonghan— who was back in Korea serving his military duty— or Jun, who was in China due to conflicting schedules, the show went on. And God, did it go on.

The eleven boys and Luna had brought the damn house down.

They laughed. They danced like their bones were made of rhythm. They screamed into mics and encouraged fans to scream back. They cracked jokes, stole water bottles from each other, and hit every choreo like their rent depended on it.

There were confetti. There were ballads. There was Hoshi screaming “WHERE MY TIGERS AT?” so loud a baby might’ve cried in San Diego.

[The Horanghae cult remains superior]

And through it all, Luna was radiant— shimmering in her sleeveless custom silver crop top and pleated skirt, her voice ethereal, her expressions playful, her dance lines sharper than ever.

[GODDESSSSSSSSS]

[MOTHERRRRRRRRRR!!!! LOOK. AT. HER.]

But more than her performance, fans couldn’t help but watch her… when she wasn’t trying to be watched.

Especially when she was next to Seungcheol.

[No because i was RIGHT THERE (*wink wink*) and they were literally in their own drama.]

Now it was the final ment of the night.

The lights had dimmed to a golden hue, warm and nostalgic. The music was soft in the background, and the energy had shifted from high-octane to heartfelt. All twelve present members were seated on the elevated stage platform, legs dangling off the edge. They looked out into the ocean of light sticks and banners, eyes glassy with gratitude.

The members took turns speaking into their mics, thanking Carats, reflecting on the tour, on missing the others, on what it meant to be here.

Luna was seated between Seungcheol and Dino. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, and her gaze stayed front and center, respectful as Dokyeom shared his thoughts— his voice sweet and trembling with emotion.

“I know this is only day one, but I feel like it’s already a gift just being here with all of you again,” he said. “Thank you for always waiting for us, even when we’re not complete. Jun-hyung, Jeonghan-hyung… I hope we get to be on the same stage again soon. We miss you.”

[Brb… my eyes are sweating…]

The crowd cheered, a soft, collective “Awww…” washing over them like a wave.

Luna smiled softly. But from the corner of her eye, something tugged her attention sideways.

Seungcheol.

He was massaging his left knee.

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t dramatic— he was subtle about it, trying not to draw attention. But her eyes narrowed as she watched his thumb press slow circles into the joint, his brows pinching slightly before smoothing out again.

[she looks so worried]

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed it. Even during the high-energy numbers, there were flashes of hesitation. Small moments where he would stop dancing for a beat. Grimace. Breathe in through his nose sharply before catching up again.

Ever since he tore his ACL, his knee had never truly been the same.

[THIS MAKES ME SO FUCKING SAD BRO]

[I hate seeing Cheol in pain 🥺]

And now, despite smiling and leading with his usual strength, she saw the truth in his fingers. In the way his other hand gripped the edge of the platform like he was grounding himself.

Her expression shifted. Worry crept in.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his eye.

He noticed her gaze instantly— and of course, he smiled. A small, practiced curve of his lips that tried to say, I’m okay. Don’t worry.

[What did he do to deserve this?!??)&@2)62]

But Luna wasn’t buying it.

She reached up and carefully removed one of her in-ear monitors, leaning closer, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear her or read her lips.

[🥺🥺🥺]

“Are you okay?”

Seungcheol blinked at her, then nodded once, his lips barely moving as he replied back:

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Luna’s eyes didn’t budge. He could feel her doubt.

Still… she didn’t push. She just scooted a little closer, subtle and slow, until her thigh gently pressed against his. She leaned down and placed a hand on his knee. Her thumb started to move in small, precise motions over the muscle— mimicking his earlier touch, but gentler, more comforting.

Seungcheol exhaled quietly and leaned back onto his hands, watching her fondly. His eyes softened instantly.

[NOT HER MASSAGING HIS KNEE LIKE A WIFE AFTER HE TOOK OUT THE TRASH.]

[But on another note, she’s so sweet]

And then— Luna suddenly reached down and pinched the air above his knee with two fingers, like grabbing an invisible bug, then theatrically flicked it away with a dramatic wrist flourish.

[HER. THROWING. AWAY. HIS. PAIN. I CANNOT.]

[OWUEUEHUSHEJWJSIHWJWIWNSIEJSISJ]

[SHE IS THE BEST PERSON ALIVE WTF?!?]

She did it again. This time, she rolled her eyes in exaggerated annoyance and muttered something like, “Ugh, take your pain and go.”

[She said “be gone THOT” to his injury.]

Seungcheol burst into laughter.

Real, full-bodied, head-tilted-back laughter that shook his shoulders. His hand flew up to cover his mouth but he was already gone.

[I’m honestly so thankful to her for making him laugh at least]

“Stop,” Seungcheol whispered in a huff between laughs, shaking his head.

“You’re welcome,” Luna grinned smugly.

Then, without thinking— Luna leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on top of his knee. A gentle little kiss that made time stop for a split second.

[SON OF A BITVCHKSJEHEJBSJENJSJSB]

Seungcheol’s smile melted into something warmer. Softer. He looked at her like she’d just rewritten every rule about how to love someone.

His hand came up, brushing through her hair affectionately before settling on her bare knee. His fingers splayed across her skin gently… then slowly began opening and closing like a blooming flower.

That annoying little tingling thing he always did. The one that gave her goosebumps.

Luna flinched with a surprised squeal, her mic barely catching the sound as it escaped her throat.

[HOLY SHIT HER MIC PICKED IT UP SO GOOD I’M DECEASED.]

She slapped a hand over her mouth too late, eyes wide as several members turned to look at her. Mingyu paused mid-sentence, blinking in surprise.

[I CANNOT 😂]

“What?” Seokmin asked.

Luna waved her hand in the air frantically. “Nothing! Nothing. Keep going!”

She motioned toward Mingyu to resume his ment.

The moment the attention slipped away again, she turned back to Seungcheol and smacked his arm playfully.

“Asshole,” she mouthed.

Seungcheol bit his lip, failing to look sorry.

[Me giggling like a child in church. this is illegal levels of cute.]

[Little moments like these… i’m living for it.]

And just like that, under the stage lights of Los Angeles, surrounded by twelve of their closest friends and ten thousand screaming fans… Luna and Seungcheol existed in their own little bubble.

And not a soul dared pop it.

TOKYO CLAW MACHINE JEONGHAN-LUNA-SEUNGCHEOL SIGHTING

This fucking video right here! I– I don’t even know what to think anymore… just watch.

This clip in a nutshell: Tokyo streets. Luna being babygirl. Jeonghan and Seungcheol being down BAD. Let’s unpack this.

A phone camera shakily zoomed in from across the crosswalk, capturing a trio that didn’t even try to blend in— not when were literal K-pop demigods.

“Is that… wait— IS THAT LUNA? AND—SEUNGCHEOL? JEONGHAN?!” the fan whisper-screamed behind the camera, nearly dropping their phone in the process.

A second voice gasped beside them. “They’re here together? In public? IN TOKYO? I’m gonna cry.”

[Same. Same.]

The footage zoomed further as the trio strolled through the narrow Tokyo street, colorful shopping bags swaying in their hands. Their managers and bodyguards lingered a polite distance away, eyes scanning the street with military precision— but none of that mattered.

The holy trinity was right there.

They stopped outside a cutesy pink arcade nestled between two cafés, the claw machine outside practically glowing like a beacon of destiny.

Sure enough, Luna let out a soft squeal and dashed toward it, her shopping bags rustling against her arms. Her boots clacked against the sidewalk, skirt bouncing with every step.

[Luna saw the claw machine and sprinted like her life depended on it.]

Jeonghan chuckled behind her and picked up his pace, while Seungcheol just grinned and followed with a shake of his head.

[Those two just trail behind like loyal golden retrievers I can’t.]

Reaching the machine, Luna turned around and extended her arm toward them, palm out.

“She wants coins!” one of the fans cackled.

[SHE SAID PAY UP, BOYS.]

Jeonghan smirked like he’d been expecting this exact moment his entire life. Without hesitation, he nodded toward Seungcheol, wordlessly nominating him as tribute.

[Jeonghan said “that’s yo sugar daddy right there.”]

Seungcheol huffed a laugh and patted his coat pockets before pulling out a few yen coins and handing them to Luna. Her eyes twinkled as she bowed her head dramatically, muttering what had to be a “thank you” before inserting the first coin.

[She is so real for just holding out her hand like that.]

Luna’s brows furrowed in concentration as she gripped the joystick.

Her target: a My Melody keychain, nestled cruelly between two plush Rilakkumas. She pressed the button, the claw descended, grazed the keychain—

—and dropped it.

“NOOOO!” the fan behind the phone whispered dramatically. “She missed!”

[LOVE the commentary by these two btw 😂]

Luna turned to the two boys with the most theatrical pout in history, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

[GET HER THAT DAMN MY MELODY KEYCHAIN]

Jeonghan raised both brows in mock offense at her expression, clearly amused. Then, wordlessly, he took another coin, stepped forward, and popped it into the machine himself.

[Hannie said “I got this. Watch and learn.”]

He didn’t push her away— instead, he stepped behind her, draping himself over her like a second skin. His arms slid around her, hands gently covering hers on the controls. His chin hovered just next to her cheek, their heads nearly touching.

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A RAGGHHH 🦅]

[I’m not breathing. Is anyone else not breathing.]

Together, they moved as one— Jeonghan guiding her, whispering something into her ear that made her giggle.

[MY MOM AND DADDDDDDD ENJEJRJSHUSBEUS]

The claw descended again— this time, snatching a Hello Kitty keychain instead.

Luna gave a little bounce of excitement as it landed in the prize chute. Jeonghan bent down, retrieved it, and presented it to her with a slight bow and a flourish.

[He gave it to her like it was a proposal I’m gonna go feral.]

She accepted it like royalty, beaming as she clipped it onto her purse. Then, without missing a beat, she turned and pointed again at the screen— then at the elusive My Melody still taunting her from inside.

[She want My Melody!]

[We know damn well why 😏]

Whatever she said wasn’t audible, but it was very clear from her animated gestures and Jeonghan’s dramatic shrug that she was not giving up.

That’s when Seungcheol stepped forward. Cool. Calm. Collected. He slid another coin into the machine like it was second nature.

[“Fine. I’ll do it myself.” –Seungcheol Thanos Choi.]

As Luna busied herself rearranging her new keychain like they were her prized possesion, Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed at the claw. He moved it carefully, finger hovering with surgeon-level focus. Jeonghan stood beside him like a coach, pointing occasionally, giving him little nods of encouragement.

[Not them tag-teaming a claw machine for her.]

[This is a hilarious sight btw 😂]

Then— it happened.

The claw dropped.

It closed.

It lifted.

And the pink bunny-shaped keychain wobbled precariously in the air before— miraculously— dropping into the chute.

The camera shook violently.

“HE GOT IT! OH MY GOD— HE GOT THE MY MELODY!”

[THESE CARATS CRACK ME UP]

Luna’s head turned just in time to see Seungcheol reach into the chute and triumphantly hold out the prize. She beamed like the sun, jogged up to him, and snatched it with a grateful, “Thank you, thank you!” before adding it to the growing collection on her purse.

She looked at them both with such a smug little smile. She didn’t even have to beg. She just pointed— and they delivered.

[“I want it, i got it” ~]

[Luna really said “get me that one” and both men complied.]

[I need whatever delulu potion she’s drinking.]

With the keychains now swinging happily from her purse, Luna clutched her shopping bags again, let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and turned toward the street.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol fell into step beside her, one on each side, as their little Tokyo adventure continued— bodyguards resuming formation behind them, blissfully unaware that a viral fan cam had just been born.

[Luna doesn’t chase. She attracts. Always.]

[Girl math = one pout = two keychains = two whipped men.]

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #1 - PARIS PUDDLE

Before we start with this next clip, I just want to introduce this next little segment.

So we talked about that moment at the airport when Seungcheol almost rearranged someone’s ancestors because a sasaeng got too close to Luna?

Since you guys absolutely lost your minds over that, and rightly so, we now present to you…

‘PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE: THE SERIES.’

Four clips. One man. Infinite threat levels.

From “awww he held her bag!” to “SOMEONE HOLD HIM BACK HE’S ABOUT TO THROW HANDS,” we’ve compiled every flavor of Papa Seungcheol being the emotional support Rottweiler he is.

HE’S A MAN! HE’S A WALL! HE’S A SECURITY SYSTEM WITH FEELINGS!

So buckle up. Grab your water. Stretch your delulu joints. Because Protective Cheollie is in the building and he came swinging (we are not responsible for any emotional damage caused by what you’re about to see).]

Let’s start off easy and cute— this little moment I like to call ‘The Paris Puddle’.

It had rained hard earlier in Paris— classic cinematic downpour with thunder cracking like it was scored by Hans Zimmer.

The clouds still loomed heavy and gray above the Haussmann-style buildings, casting a moody tint over the hotel entrance, where a modest cluster of devoted fans were still waiting in the damp cold with umbrellas, posters, and Carat Bong light sticks in hand. Their shoes sloshed slightly on the rain-slicked pavement, but none of them cared. No weather could stop them. Not when Luna and Seungcheol were in the city of love.

[Carats in the rain like we’re in a rom-com. Not even God’s tears can stop the grind.]

Some were tourists who had caught wind of the photoshoot schedule. Others were locals— true Parisians— yet all of them shared the same pulse-racing anticipation as a sleek black van finally pulled up in front of the hotel. It glided to a stop, tires hissing against the wet asphalt.

Immediately, a ripple of movement ran through the crowd. Umbrellas were lowered, phones raised like shields, and the fanbase collectively inhaled like they were about to meet God Himself.

[Black van pulls up — everyone: activate fangirl stance.]

[Honestly same]

But they stayed respectful. No one rushed. No one shoved. Just hopeful eyes and shivering hands holding out albums and Sharpies, trying not to scream so loud they’d get kicked off the sidewalk.

The first to emerge was their security, a walking brick wall in a black puffer and earpiece. He looked around, did the usual silent scan, then stepped to the side.

The car door opened.

Cue chaos.

“S.COUPS!!!” a few screamed in perfect unison.

And there he was— Choi Seungcheol, fresh off a shoot, dressed in a tailored camel coat with black slacks and a moody silk scarf around his neck like some kind of K-drama second male lead who was definitely going to steal your girl. His hair was styled soft and parted, glinting under the dim Parisian light.

[GODDDAMNSJJEBSUSHEIHSUEHDISJUS]

He grinned at the reaction, his dimple flashing like a well-timed jump scare.

Then, lifting one finger to his lips, he gently hushed the crowd with a chuckle.

[I AM SAT]

[I’ll go mute if he wants me to]

That was when his hand came up— smooth, natural, instinctual— and rested gently on the top frame of the car door. He tilted slightly, head lowered, eyes tracking the next figure stepping out of the van.

Luna.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[heEeee hEeeeeee¥|$]$?\\>\>\>>\%\2]

She emerged slowly, one hand holding the edge of the door, the other clutching her coat. Her long skirt fluttered delicately in the cold wind, the hem twirling like a petal around her calves. Her heels wrapped around her legs with thin straps that laced up to mid-calf, giving her an almost Grecian look. Her hair, loose but styled, bounced slightly as she moved. Despite the weather, she looked like she had walked straight off the cover of Vogue Paris.

[WHATTHEFUCKISWRONGWITHTHEBOTHOFTHEM?!!??]

The fans gasped again— this time softer, more reverent. A few called her name.

“Luna!”

“Luna!”

“Jiyeon!”

She smiled warmly and waved at them. “Hello! You guys are so cute for waiting in the rain!”

[I WOULD WAIT IN A HURRICANE FOR YOU, BAE JIYEON! DON’T TEST ME!]

Seungcheol glanced toward the street and instinctively placed his palm on her back, guiding her closer to the curb and away from any random Parisian car that might dare disturb the sanctity of their moment. They started walking toward the hotel entrance.

[Bonjour bitches. Protective Choi Seungcheol just landed.]

But then— it happened.

A puddle.

Correction: a miniature lake disguised as a puddle. It stretched directly in their path, a deep basin filled with murky post-storm water, glinting ominously under the streetlamps.

Luna slowed, eyeing it, then glanced at her shoes. Her heel hovered cautiously above the edge. She looked like she was calculating a leap.

Big mistake.

[GIRL, I WOULD LAY ON THAT PUDDLE SO YOU CAN STEP ON ME AND WALK PASS…]

[I have a problem…]

Seungcheol had already clocked it. The heels. The slick pavement. The perilous depth of the puddle. The potential clownery if she slipped.

Absolutely not on his watch.

Before Luna could even lift her leg, Seungcheol took one large, confident stride across the puddle. Then, without asking— without even warning her— he turned back, placed both hands gently but firmly on her waist, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.

[Bro thought he was in a drama and HE WAS RIGHT.]

Luna made a startled laugh. “Wha— Cheol!”

She was already on the other side before she could argue. He set her down with the delicacy of a man placing a crown on royalty.

The fans exploded.

“OH MY GOD—”

“S.COUPS, YOU ARE SO STRONG?!”

“NOPE. I’M OUT. I’M DECEASED. I’M GONE.”

“PRINCESS TREATMENT? IN THIS ECONOMY???”

[Accurate reactions because same 🫠]

Still chuckling, Luna waved to the fans, flushed but not flustered, brushing her hands down the sides of her coat. “He’s so dramatic,” she called out playfully.

[Girl just say you enjoyed it]

Then— like this wasn’t already a K-drama finale— Seungcheol crouched down.

[HE 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 DONE 👏 YET 👏]

Right there on the wet sidewalk. In his expensive coat. Knees bent.

Luna blinked. “Cheollie— enough— what are you—?”

He reached for her ankle. One of the long straps from her heel had come undone in the lift. Without a word, he began to wrap it back around her leg carefully, pulling it snug and retying it in the neatest little bow like he’d done this a thousand times before.

[A man. A man. A maAaaAnN]

[He served. He slayed. He accessorized the fantasy.]

Luna looked down at him, the softest smile curling her lips.

“Thank you,” she said quietly when he stood again, brushing invisible dust off his knees like it was just another Tuesday.

He shrugged. “Can’t have you tripping. Not on my shift.”

[Every man in France just turned to dust.]

And then —just like that— they turned to the fans.

[Acted like nothing fucking happened]

No explanation. No pause. They stepped up to the barricade and started signing posters and albums like nothing had happened.

“Hello! Did you guys wait long? You guys didn’t get too wet, right?” Luna asked sweetly.

“No! We are okay! I love your outfit, Jiyeon!” one fan squealed, practically vibrating.

Seungcheol reached out and signed an album cover, nodding. “Hello.”

“S.COUPS, DID YOU CARRY LUNA LIKE THAT JUST NOW?!” another gasped.

He smiled, completely unbothered before nodding. “She… was gonna… ruin her shoes,” he said in English after hesitating.

[This man is not real. He’s a figment of our collective delusion.]

[ALSO! HIS ENGLISH IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!]

The signing went on for several minutes— ink flying, fans squealing, photos snapping like fireworks. Despite the drizzle still misting from the air, neither Luna nor Seungcheol seemed rushed. They signed each item with care, made eye contact, nodded along to fan comments, and even laughed when someone shouted, “You two better drop a collab next!”

[YESSSSSSS PLEASENEJEJEJHEJSJS]

“Maybe we already did,” Luna teased, shooting a playful glance at Seungcheol, who just grinned and gave a non-committal shrug like “Who’s to say?”

[IM SICK OF THEM. I LOVE THEM SO BAD.]

One by one, the fans started getting their moment. Seungcheol gave polite bows, flashed that dimpled smile, and even signed a phone case with a cartoon version of himself. Luna took pictures with fans, even making matching poses when someone nervously asked her to do a heart. Her voice was sweet, her laugh louder than expected, and she touched her hand to her chest every time someone complimented her outfit.

“I was scared my skirt would fly off in the wind,” she admitted at one point, earning a collective gasp and more screams.

[I LOVE HOW THEY MADE SURE THEY SPOKE TO EVERYONE 🥹]

Eventually, the staff gave a subtle nod— it was time to head inside.

Luna waved both hands toward the crowd, voice ringing out cheerfully. “Thank you for waiting for us! Go get warm, okay?! Drink something hot!”

“Bye, Luna! Bye, S.Coups!”

“Rest well!”

Seungcheol stepped back, waving with one hand as the other found its way instinctively to the small of Luna’s back. It was a featherlight touch, guiding her gently as they turned toward the hotel entrance.

[HAND. PLACEMENT.]

Her heels clicked softly on the wet pavement, and just before the stairs, she paused ever so slightly— eyeing the slick marble steps.

She didn’t need to say anything.

Seungcheol was already there.

Without a word, he extended one hand toward her. Luna placed her palm into his like it was second nature, fingers curling. He helped her up the first few steps, steady and slow, his other hand hovering protectively behind her like a safety net. When her heel caught for half a second on the edge of a step, he caught her waist with the kind of ease that said he’d do it a hundred more times if needed.

[HELP. THE FIRM HAND ON THE BACK. I’M UNWELL.]

[I HAVE REPLAYED THIS ONE TO MANY TIMES]

“Careful,” he murmured near her ear.

She chuckled softly. “Always am.”

[AT THIS POINT I DON’T NEED A MAN LIKE CHOI SEUNGCHEOL… I NEED CHOI SEUNGCHEOL.]

They reached the top step and turned slightly— one last wave to the fans still waiting outside.

Luna blew a kiss with both hands. “Bye bye~”

Seungcheol gave a short, respectful bow and winked.

[HE HAS LOST HIS GODDAMN MIND]

[I’m calling the cops.]

[WHAT ABOUT MY SANITY, CHEOL!?!?]

And with that, they disappeared into the warm golden glow of the hotel lobby, the heavy doors closing behind them with a soft hiss— like the end of a perfect scene.

I’m crying in French.

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #2 - SPIDER SAVE

And here we have the next scene where chaos, fear, and absolutely zero brotherly instinct collide.

This next clip is a collective effort on saving Luna… a collective effort for SOME of them..

Viewer discretion is advised— especially if you’re scared of spiders or watching your faves scream like children.

It was the night after the MAMA Awards in 2023. Fresh off their Grand Prize win, SEVENTEEN had returned to the hotel, finally shed of their glitzy stage outfits and makeup. The tension of the night had melted into laughter, oversized hoodies, bare faces, and that delicious post-win glow. The air buzzed with pride.

[This live cracks me up istg 😂]

In the cozy glow of Luna’s hotel room, all fourteen members squished together in front of their Weverse Live setup. The camera rested precariously on a pile of stacked water bottles and a room service tray— real idol behavior. They’d gone live to thank Carats, express their raw emotions, and bask in the surreal moment they’d worked their whole lives for.

Woozi, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, Wonwoo, Hoshi, Dino, Jun, and Minghao were all squished together like an idol burrito on the couch at the side. Mingyu, Dokyeom, and Luna were settled casually at the edge of her bed, and Vernon and Seungkwan took the floor like the two gremlins they were.

Everyone was glowing— some sleepy, some energized, most just buzzing.

Luna was in the middle of speaking when it happened. Her voice was steady but tinged with emotion, hands fluttering like always when she spoke from the heart.

“I just… I still can’t believe it,” she said softly, her hands waving gently as she leaned forward, her all-black long-sleeved top clinging slightly to her frame under the heat of the lights. “We all worked so hard… and getting this kind of acknowledgment? It’s beyond anything I ever dreamed of. Thank you for giving us this chance—”

Then she froze.

Her words got caught in her throat like static.

Her hand had felt something shift. Something weighty. Something… alive.

[THAT THING WAS HUGE]

Her eyes widened, a gasp ripping from her chest like a fire alarm as her arms immediately raised into the air in total surrender.

[NOPE. NOPE. ABORT MISSION.]

Everyone looked at her.

“Jiyeon-ah?” Seungcheol and Jeonghan asked first in unison, confused, brows furrowing.

“Are you okay?” Woozi leaned forward.

“What happened?” asked Joshua from the couch.

“Did you forget what you were saying?” Dino asked innocently.

[The fact none of them saw it is terrifying]

She didn’t answer.

“H-Hannie…” Her voice cracked.

[THE. FACT. SHE. CALLS. FOR. JEONGHAN. FIRST.]

[I’m not okay…]

And that’s when Jeonghan’s head snapped back toward her, expression instantly alert.

“What’s wrong? Nana-ya — what is it?” he asked, pushing off the couch halfway.

Her hands trembled, still hovering above her shoulders like she was under arrest. “It’s on me,” she whispered hoarsely.

[It’s. On. HER!!!]

The moment she said it, Seungkwan, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her feet, turned his head to look.

And saw it.

[KWAN MADE EYE CONTACT WITH IT 🫠]

The massive, hairy, actual demon from hell clinging to the fabric of Luna’s black shirt like it paid rent.

His scream could’ve cracked concrete. “AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH— IT’S A TARANTULAAAAAA!!!”

[YEAH NO. I WOULD’VE DIED RIGHT THERE.]

Seungkwan launched himself backward in a barrel roll so dramatic it deserved its own OST. Vernon saw it next and flinched so hard he flopped flat onto his back like a ragdoll.

[I FUCKING CANNOT WITH THEM 😂😂😂]

Jeonghan was now standing.

“Jeongie…” Luna whimpered, her eyes shimmering with tears. “A spider.”

[Luna said: “Jeongie 🥺” AGGHHHHHHH]

That was all it took.

Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had been right next to her, leapt off the bed like it had become lava, tripping over each other and nearly taking out the lamp as they scrambled.

[HAHAHAHHAHAHAHSBSHEHSJWB]

[THE WAY THEY JUST DOVE AWAY FROM HER 😂]

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m sorry!” Mingyu shouted, already halfway across the room, arms flailing like a windsock.

Dokyeom screamed, “IT HAS FUR. FUR, GUYS!”

[It was literally every man for themselves!!]

Woozi, Jun, Hoshi, Minghao, and Dino all collectively cringed and began shuffling away like penguins trying not to fall off an iceberg.

[SO NONE OF Y’ALL ARE GONNA HELP HER??]

The camera— still streaming live to tens of thousands of fans— jolted from the tremors of fleeing members.

In fact the fans saw it first, however, they were so immersed in their conversation, they didn’t see that chat.

The tarantula shifted again. Luna squealed and slammed her hands over her eyes, trying not to move.

“Save me,” she whispered helplessly. “Save me. Save me.”

“I CAN’T, I’M SORRY!” Mingyu shouted again from behind a chair. “LU-LU, I’M SO SORRY, I LOVE YOU BUT I GENUINELY CAN’T—”

[KIM MINGYU USE YOUR MUSCLES AND YOUR HEIGHT?!?]

Tears were now streaming down her face. She felt it crawling. Her breath hitched with every tiny movement.

[“SOMEONE SAVE HER!” I say as I hide behind the screen.]

“Move, move,” Jeonghan barked at them, finally crossing to her.

Seungcheol was right behind him. “Wonwoo, come.”

Joshua was already beside her, crouching. “It’s okay, Jiyeon-ah. It’s fine.”

[I love you Joshua but it really isn’t fine.]

“It’s okay, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan whispered, carefully reaching out, trying to touch anything but the spider. “It’s okay. We’ll get it off.”

“Don’t move,” Wonwoo said, calm but firm.

“Seungkwan! Give me that empty glass and the menu,” Seungcheol said.

“W-Wait—what?!” Seungkwan held them up like he was handling plutonium.

[HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE INVOLVED AT ALL 😂]

“NOW, KWAN.”

Seungkwan half-crawled, half-tossed them over like a reluctant courier. “TAKE IT, JUST TAKE IT!”

[I AM DEAD HAHSHAHHSHSJAHSHSH]

[I rewatch this clip whenever I’m sad.]

“Get it off. Get it off. Get it off,” Luna cried quietly, her voice breaking over and over as her eyes stayed squeezed shut.

Wonwoo and Seungcheol coordinated, slowly, precisely, while Jeonghan kept her locked in place with his touch and voice. Joshua’s hand never left her knee.

With one swift motion, Seungcheol slammed the glass over the spider and slid the menu underneath. It hissed. Or maybe that was just Mingyu and Dokyeom screaming again.

[Those two were ✨YELLING✨]

As soon as it was off, Jeonghan yanked Luna into his arms.

Her entire body crumpled against him like a puppet with its strings cut, trembling and limp.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, carrying her across the room and sitting on the couch with her practically in his lap. “You’re okay, pretty girl. It’s gone. It’s gone now. Just breathe, okay?”

Her face was buried in his neck, shaking like a leaf as he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

[PRETTY GIRL?!!? HOW DID WE NOT SEE THE SIGNS!?]

[I know this is a CheolNa moments video but I cannot help but gush about JeongNa. Sue me.]

Wonwoo and Seungcheol hurried out the room with the spider, muttering something about throwing it out the hotel.

And once everyone was back and settled, the room fell silent.

Shocked. Processing. Haunted.

[The silence after 😂]

Then Luna slowly sat up in Jeonghan’s lap and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt.

“Does anyone want to switch rooms?” she asked weakly.

[😂😂😂]

“No.”

“No.”

“Hell no.”

“I love you and all but… no.”

[Just the collective “no’s” is killing me]

The chorus came in like a wave.

“I’ll switch,” Seungcheol said.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

“Please,” Luna whispered without missing a beat, looking at him with the desperation of a woman betrayed by the universe. No hesitation.

“The spider was just trying to congratulate you for being a Grand Prize winner,” Jeonghan said lightly, tightening his arms around her waist.

[A MENACE]

That made them all laugh— some still recovering, some still sweating.

But Luna? She blinked at him, deadpan. “It’s a hater.”

[LUNA. PLEASE.]

[NO CAUSE FACTS.]

“Awww,” came a collective coo from the couch as Jeonghan kissed her temple and tightened his arms around her, rocking them slightly like he was calming a toddler post-vaccine.

[SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH]

Just a cute little moment for my main ship!

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #3 - FIT FIX

We are now LIVE from Mexico and this is historic behavior.

The bass was thumping like the pulse of the crowd, relentless and euphoric as the final chorus of ‘Very Nice’ exploded across the Tecate Pa’l Norte stage. Spotlights chased after twelve bodies sprinting across the vast platform— chaos incarnate in white, glitter, sweat, and sound.

It was the end of their ninety-minute set, and if anyone was tired, no one was showing it. SEVENTEEN were everywhere at once— on the main stage, the wings, the extended platforms jutting into the sea of screaming Carats— grabbing water bottles and launching them like missiles into the sweltering crowd, pointing mics to the sky, hips jumping in sync, hearts pounding out of their chests.

[I’m sweating and i’m not even there. this is cardio.]

[Aju Nice is just that song yk?!]

The fans were feral. They were drenched. They were howling. And still, they sang along.

By the edge of the extended stage, Luna was crouched low, balancing effortlessly on the balls of her feet in her sky-high black combat boots, her mic pointed toward the front row as she grinned wide at the sea of hands reaching for her. Her black mesh tank clung to her glistening skin, her leopard bralette peeking through beneath. Sequined leopard print shorts hugged her hips, glittering under the lights every time she moved. Her jewelry sparkled— rings, earrings, bracelet, and necklaces— and the tattoos along her rip cage looked like they’d been inked by the stars themselves.

[No because this is LITERALLY the mother we all collectively share.]

[RED HAIR BAE JIYEON IS SUPERIOR!]

She held her mic out again, laughing as the crowd screamed the next “Aju nice!” back at her, nearly shattering the sky.

Then she saw it— an arm in the pit, holding up a brown cowboy hat. It waved wildly in the air, fingers curled in desperate offering. Luna’s grin widened like the start of trouble. With a wink, she reached forward, snatched the hat clean from their grip, and dropped it onto her head like she’d worn it her whole life.

[NOT THE COWBOY HAT. NOT THE COWBOY HAT. I CAN’T BREATHE.]

[ALSO THAT FUCKING SMIRK AND WINK 🧎‍♀️]

[THANK YOU TO THE CARAT WHO GAVE HER THAT]

The fans lost their collective minds. Deafening shrieks pierced the humid night as Luna smirked, tilting the brim of the hat low over her eyes, full Yeehaw Mode activated.

[I CANMOT DEAL WITH HER!?!]

[y’all she just gave us yeehaw Luna. she just served country slay. i am unwell.]

[YOON JEONGHAN COME COLLECT YOUR FIANCÉE]

Still crouched, her laughter barely contained, Luna leaned back into the chorus, belting the next “Aju Nice!” with a fire that could’ve burned down the northern half of Monterrey. But as she stood back up, bouncing to the rhythm, the motion tugged her glittering shorts a little higher up her thighs, the hem riding just a bit too far without her noticing.

[hold on. HOOOOOLD ON.]

From somewhere behind her, Seungcheol saw it happen. The man had been spinning water bottles in both hands, soaking the left side of the stage with his usual finale chaos— until his eyes found Luna.

[Cheol’s guard dog sensors activated in 0.2 seconds flat.]

He was on the move before anyone clocked it. Making a beeline straight for her, dodging Hoshi’s flailing limbs mid-jump and ducking past Dokyeom who was scream-laughing into a mic with his head thrown back. In three long strides, Seungcheol was beside her.

[HE IS A MAN ON A MISSION 🫡]

And then— like it was muscle memory— he reached around her lower back with one arm, planted himself close against her side, and dipped low enough to slip his other hand down the curve of her hip.

[STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW.]

[I CANNNNOISYSGAHSBHSHSJSBHSSHHSB]

Still singing, still grinning, Luna barely reacted as Seungcheol’s fingers ghosted the hem of her shorts, looped through it discreetly, and tugged it down ever so slightly to keep her from flashing half of northern Mexico.

[HE ADJUSTED HER SHORTS. HE SAID MODESTY FIRST. I’M BARKING.]

The crowd erupted. If the energy had been chaotic before, it was now full nuclear meltdown. Phones were raised at lightning speed. Screams climbed into glass-shattering territory. Fans grabbed at their friends, mouths hanging open, full-body shaking.

[Honestly same]

[The way my soul left my body like. that was biblical. that was primal.]

Still wrapped in his arm, Luna glanced sideways at him, smile softening just enough to show something tender beneath it all. Her voice dropped with her next line, sweet and amused as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Seungcheol smirked, giving her hip a final pat before his eyes flicked up to the top of her head.

[SHUT THE FUCK UP!/7626)/6/)@29]

[He clocked that HAT.]

Luna caught the look instantly.

“Oh,” she said with a wicked little smile, “You want it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she reached up, plucked the brown cowboy hat off her head, and spun it once on her fingers like a lasso.

Then, with exaggerated flair, she placed it right onto Seungcheol’s head, adjusting the fit before tipping the brim low over his eyes.

“There. Much better,” she grinned.

[LET US ALL THANK MOTHER LUNA 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[I’M IN LOVE WITH HER. BUT ALSO HIM. BUT ALSO BOTH.]

Before he could retaliate, Luna trailed one hand down the front of his soaked black tank top— slow, gentle, teasing fingers ghosting over his chest as she passed him by— and then turned on her heel and walked away like she hadn’t just wrecked everyone’s life.

[WHERE IS HER OSCAR. WHERE IS HER GRAMMY. WHERE IS MY INHALER.]

[WHAT?!? IS?!? WRONG?!? WITH?!? HER?!?]

Seungcheol stood frozen in place for a beat, the brim of the cowboy hat shadowing his face.

[Choi Seungcheol.exe stopped working]

Then he laughed. Low. Dangerous. Delighted.

When Luna glanced back over her shoulder, she saw him watching her— smirk crooked, dimple deep, eyes locked like a loaded gun. He tipped the hat at her in return, and she— still walking backward now— winked at him before spinning around and bolting back toward the others at center stage.

[AND SHE WINKED. SHE WINKED. YOUR HONOR THEY ARE PLAYING WITH ME PERSONALLY.]

[CHOI SEUNGCHEOL STAND UP!]

[i need therapy. i need a priest. i need this live in 4k.]

And just like that, Luna vanished into the chaos again— racing back to the group, voice rising in the final chorus of ‘Very Nice,’ leopard shorts glittering, laughter ringing, while the fans continued losing their absolute minds.

Absolute tease. The both of them.

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #4 - LENS LOCKDOWN

Tho clip makes me so feral but also makes my BLOOD BOIL every time. the way some people are so CREEPY to Luna.

Cheol handled it like a KING but I still want to fight everyone.

He said “i will bodyblock for her in 4K” and I cried.

It should’ve been a cute moment.

All fourteen SEVENTEEN members— yes, fourteen,— casually gliding through Incheon International Airport like a black-and-white Calvin Klein ad with matching duffel bags and designer sunglasses. Fans screamed from both sides of the terminal, cameras flashing like strobe lights, phones held high like digital rosaries. Security moved like shadows around them. Their team led the way, airport staff politely panicking in the background, and behind them… media.

Too much media.

Too many lenses.

But Luna didn’t notice any of that. She was too busy vibrating.

[She’s so happy.]

“Guys! We’re going to my home turf,” she beamed, bouncing slightly on her heels as she clutched Jeonghan’s hand like it was a backstage pass to her childhood. “You’re gonna love the rain. And the food. And the chaos.”

Jeonghan only smiled, clearly too sleepy to banter back but definitely awake enough to let his thumb lazily run over the back of her hand as they walked. He looked like he was running on three hours of sleep, a single iced americano, and the joy of annoying airport staff by refusing to wear both shoulder straps of his backpack.

[They are so cute 🥺]

“Are your parents coming to Glastonbury?” Mingyu asked from behind, dragging a suitcase like it owed him money.

“They are,” Luna grinned. “I already warned my dad not to yell out embarrassing things in the crowd.”

“You just guaranteed that he will.”

The group moved like a unit, half asleep but polished to idol perfection. Snapbacks, masks, glasses— yes. Matching suitcases with tiny plushies clipped on them— also yes. Half the members kept their heads down. Others waved at fans. Jeonghan blew a kiss. Woozi pretended not to hear someone yell HUSBAND. Vernon nodded at a fan holding a sign that just said “YOU.”

[Vernon has had it with these signs]

Luna was radiant. Her oversized hoodie was half-tucked into a pleated skirt, and her boots stomped like she owned every square inch of tile. Her hair was up in a red claw clip. She wore no makeup but smiled like she was lit from within, occasionally squeezing Jeonghan’s hand and waving at fans who called her name.

She looked happy. Excited. Comfortable.

That’s when it happened.

They were halfway up the escalator leading toward their gate. Their team was ahead. Security circled the members like satellites. Luna leaned her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her arm swinging gently between them.

Jeonghan tilted his head so it rested lightly against hers.

[MOM! DAD! ADOPT ME! PLEASE!]

Seungcheol, just a step behind her on the escalator, clocked it all with a soft smile. He knew that look on her face. He knew that feeling. That joy. He loved seeing her like this.

Then—

Then something shifted.

Something moved.

A rustle. A shuffle. A weird mechanical click.

His gaze flicked sideways, over the edge of the escalator railing, and landed squarely on the camera in the hands of a man walking just behind the security line—. part of the trailing media group. Normal. Annoying, but normal.

Except the angle wasn’t.

The lens was pointed up.

And aimed directly at Luna.

No. Not her face. Not her smile. Not even her and Jeonghan together.

Lower.

Too low.

Far too low.

[PISS ME THE FUCK OFF]

[I WOULD HAVE PUSHED HIM OFF THE ESCALATOR AND ENDED UP IN JAIL 🤷‍♀️]

Seungcheol saw red.

His entire body moved before his brain did. His hand shot out and covered the lens, palm snapping over it like a lid. The camera jolted. The man flinched.

[THAT’S MY MAN!]

Seungcheol stepped off the escalator and immediately positioned himself behind Luna, blocking her completely with his body.

[CHEOL FULLY SWITCHED INTO “IF I CATCH YOU I’M BEATING YOU” MODE.]

His voice was low, dangerous.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, sharp and slow.

The media guy stammered. “I— I was just— creative shot— group angle—”

“Yeah?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows lifted in a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Real creative to angle your lens under a woman’s skirt.”

The man opened his mouth again.

“Say another word,” Seungcheol cut in, tone deathly calm, “and you won’t be flying anywhere this week.”

Their security team caught the shift instantly. Two men peeled off from formation and grabbed the man by each arm. He protested. Loudly. The commotion earned a dozen turned heads, including Vernon and Woozi, who looked back with eyes narrowed. Dino stopped walking completely. Joshua blinked, confused.

Jeonghan turned just in time to see Seungcheol’s hand still outstretched.

He looked down at Luna.

Then at the man.

Then back at Luna again.

The dots connected.

Without a word, Jeonghan moved, gently but firmly shifting Luna in front of him, placing himself between her and the now-chaotic situation. His arms came around her in a quiet, instinctive shield. Luna blinked up at him, brows furrowed.

[STFU I LOVE THEM SM 🥺]

“What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan murmured, voice deceptively light. “Just stay here.”

Luna’s brows twitched in confusion but didn’t push. She trusted him. She trusted them.

[We don’t deserve them but i will fight for them.]

Behind them, the man was being dragged away, sputtering, as Cheol spoke to their security team with clenched teeth and an expression carved out of stone. His jaw worked. His hands kept twitching. He looked like he wanted to throw a suitcase.

[🥵🥵🥵]

Then, finally, as the situation diffused and the media noise dulled, he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

But he wasn’t done.

Without saying a word, he stepped forward again and planted both hands on either side of the escalator handles, one on each rubber grip. His body formed a triangle behind Luna and Jeonghan. Not touching them, not crowding them— but surrounding.

Blocking.

Protecting.

Anyone behind them now saw nothing but Seungcheol’s back. Tall. Broad. Furious.

[He activated bodyguard mode and I haven’t recovered.]

That was the last image fans saw before SEVENTEEN disappeared through the gate.

No waves. No bows.

Just idols, their team, their guards— and a wall of Seungcheol.

[Glastonbury hasn’t even started yet and the lore was ALREADY off the charts.]

And if I EVER see that camera guy on the street. it’s over for him.

Seungcheol if you see this I’d marry you in front of my mom right now.

KKUMA & BUG WEVERSE LIVE PLAYDATE

Just this entire CheolNa & pets Weverse live

The way this live was supposed to be about the pets but turned into a couple’s domestic comedy hour with a side of jealousy and chaos.

The screen blinked to life with the familiar Weverse Live notification pinging across CARATs’ phones, the caption reading: ‘S.COUPS & LUNA & KKUMA & BUGS!’

[You guys don’t know how fast I clicked on a notification]

The live opened with the camera a bit tilted, someone clearly struggling to adjust the tripod, which only made it funnier when Seungcheol’s voice called out, “Ya, you said you knew how to do this!” followed by a soft chuckle from behind the camera.

A very familiar chuckle.

[JEONGHAN IS BEHIND THE CAMERA I REPEAT THE SNITCH IS IN THE ROOM.]

“Okay, we’re live,” Luna announced cheerily, finally sitting on the floor mat with her legs crossed and a small blanket over them, her wine-red hair loose and fluffy around her shoulders. She looked like the picture of domestic comfort, until she suddenly yelped—“BUGS, BABY NO, NOT THE CORDS—” and lunged off-screen.

Cue chaos.

“KKUMA! STOP FOLLOWING HIM—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging his giant white fluffball in the opposite direction as the tiny brown rabbit darted behind a shelf.

[The bunny has no fear. the dog has no care. Luna has no control. Seungcheol has no authority.]

“Hi guys,” Luna finally greeted breathlessly as she returned to the frame, now with a smug-looking Bugs in her lap like he didn’t just try to commit appliance homicide. “This little criminal is Bugs. Hannie got him for me last Christmas. He thinks it makes up for for him not being here. It doesn’t. But the bunny is cute.”

A loud scoff could be heard from behind the camera.

[BOY– HAHAHHAHAHABAJBSJEBSJSB]

Seungcheol plopped down beside her, Kkuma flopping over on her side with her tongue out and tail wagging like she’d just run a marathon. “KKuma just wants to be friends,” Seungcheol whined, gesturing at the bunny now dramatically grooming himself like royalty. “But someone raised a diva.”

“He’s not a diva,” Luna defended, “He’s cautious. And elegant.”

“Elegant?” Seungcheol stared. “He tried to body slam Kkuma earlier.”

[Bugs is his father’s child]

“He’s establishing boundaries,” Luna shot back, scratching behind Bugs’ ears. “I support him.”

[Luna raising her bunny like a gen z therapist. Bugs has a trauma-informed care plan.]

The comments were already flooding in, fans crying about the cuteness overload. One caught their attention:

“BUGS VS KKUMA FIGHT NIGHT WHEN?”

Luna laughed, holding up Bugs’ tiny paw. “Bugs would win. Don’t underestimate the bite radius on this guy.”

“Okay, but Kkuma has size and the emotional intelligence of a houseplant,” Seungcheol added proudly. “She’ll doesn’t know how to lose. She’ll keep fetching until the world ends.”

Behind the camera, Jeonghan’s laughter could be heard again— quiet, but undeniably there.

Luna leaned toward the screen like she was sharing a secret. “You guys hear that? That’s Bugs’ daddy,” she added, putting air quotes around the word with a dramatic eyeroll. “But he insisted on being here because he ‘missed Bugs too much.’”

“Lies,” Seungcheol deadpanned. “He’s here to supervise you.”

[Y’all she’s blushing. someone hold me back.]

Luna did not blush. (She totally did.) Instead, she ignored Seungcheol and read another comment aloud.

“WHY DO BUGS AND KKUMA HAVE BETTER CHEMISTRY THAN HALF OF Y’ALL’S FAVORITE DRAMAS.”

“I mean…” Seungcheol squinted as Kkuma gently sniffed at Bugs, who gave him a single disapproving thump before hopping two inches away. “It’s giving slow burn enemies to reluctant allies.”

Bugs then launched himself onto Luna’s lap, causing her to shriek-laugh. “Bugs baby! Daddy trained you better than this!” she scolded.

From behind the camera: “He takes after you.”

[YOON JEONGHAN?!!]

“I— WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” Luna spun around but Jeonghan was already silent.

Seungcheol howled. “You’re gonna get smacked.”

“I dare him to try!” Luna huffed. “He’s scared of Bugs.”

“I AM NOT—”

“You are.”

“I AM NOT.”

[It’s always the ones behind the camera starting the fights.]

The pets eventually settled— Bugs nibbling on a little bowl of strawberries Luna brought, Kkuma resting her chin on Seungcheol’s thigh like a certified sad girl. Luna reached over to smooth her hand through Kkuma’s fur and the big dog’s eyes closed in bliss.

“Cheollie,” she murmured, “she’s literally the fluffiest thing ever.”

“You say that, but someone will fight you.”

“He can try,” she smirked. “He’s behind the camera. Powerless.”

[I CANNOT WITH THEM 😭]

The camera suddenly tilted.

Luna screamed. “HEY—”

[YOON JEONGHAN IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE.]

Seungcheol leaned forward, squinting at the chat. “Someone said: ‘do the pets get along better than Jeonghan and Seungcheol?’”

He and Luna looked at each other. Then burst out laughing.

Luna replied, “Yes. But only because Bugs doesn’t have to sit through your leadership speeches.”

“Oh, and JeonghanNie does?” Seungcheol said.

“Every single day of his life,” she deadpanned.

“Anyway,” Seungcheol continued, brushing Kkuma’s ears back as the dog began to snore audibly, “We just wanted to do a small live because the kids haven’t hung out in a while, and it’s always good to bond with your fellow single parents.”

[KIDDDSSSSS 🥺]

“Excuse me?” Luna turned to him slowly. “Single?”

[Jiyeon really said “Me? Single?”

“Oh, right. Bugs has a stepdad.”

[HAHAHAHHAHAHAHSBJWHSJWBJWHE]

“I will throw this rabbit at you.”

[JIYEON PLEASE 😂 I AM WHEEZING 😂]

Behind the camera, a loud snort broke the tension as Jeonghan wheezed. “Don’t involve the child in your divorce.”

“OUR child is thriving!” Luna yelled.

[The fact this is our first update of Jeonghan in A WHILE]

[This live is a three-person custody battle and two pets just trying to vibe.]

Luna leaned forward again, noticing another comment.

“kkuma + bugs sub-unit when??”

“Honestly,” she said thoughtfully, “it would outsell all of us. Their logo would be a paw and a paw-pad.”

“I’ll manage them,” Seungcheol offered.

“You’re too emotionally invested.”

“You dressed Bugs in a sweater.”

“It’s cold in the studio!”

“HE HAS FUR.”

[They’re fighting again. the pets are traumatized.]

But Bugs just sat there, blissfully unbothered, chewing on a strawberry like he was above all of this. Kkuma twitched in her sleep, probably dreaming of a chew toy.

Eventually, Luna stretched her arms with a groan. “Okay, before Bugs decides to chew through another wire and Hannie drags me off-camera for defamation, we should wrap this up.”

Seungcheol nodded, giving Kkuma a little pat. “Say bye-bye, baby. We’ll do this again soon.”

Luna blew a kiss to the camera. “Thanks for hanging with us! And remember— if you don’t support Bugs and Kkuma, you’re anti-fun.”

Jeonghan behind the camera: “And anti-cute.”

[YOON JEONGHAN I MISS YOU!!!]

“Exactly.”

[This was not a pet live. this was a sitcom pilot.]

[JeongCheolNa ARE THE FOUND FAMILY TRINITY. GOODBYE.]

So. CheolNa.

The duo that radiates ‘accidentally in love in a K-Drama hallway confession scene’. They’re confusing. They’re chaotic. They’re codependent. And most importantly…

They are the funniest part of my mental illness.

We’ve laughed. We’ve cried. We’ve watched Seungcheol almost commit crimes in airports. We’ve watched Luna gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss while feeding her bunny strawberries and dodging security threats. We’ve watched Jeonghan suffer in silence behind the camera like the single mother of two bickering toddlers.

But the real takeaway?

Bugs and Kkuma need a spin-off series. Immediately. Disney+, call me.

So thank you for joining me on this 17-minute descent into hell, otherwise known as ‘CheolNa moments that make me question Jeonghan’s boundaries (he has none).’

If you came here looking for closure, jokes on you. These two have never closed a single emotional arc in their lives. They will flirt, fight, protect each other, and probably file each other’s taxes out of pure obligation— but will they ever define the relationship?

No. Never. Not until Jeonghan leaks the wedding photos out of spite.

Anyway.

Don’t forget to like, comment, subscribe, and send this video to your emotionally unavailable best friend. And remember:

If Bugs ever starts talking… we’re all in danger.

Until the next one… toodleoo!

comments…

@/lunababybae • 1 day ago ╰ Cheol and Gyu’s confession to Luna are my Roman Empire.

@/rinarieee • 1 day ago ╰ Jeonghan being so unbothered when Cheol confessed to his girl is mind blowing to me

@/gyusshadow • 1 day ago ╰ MINGYU AND DOKYEOK NOSE DIVING AWAY FROM LUNA WHEN THEY SAW THE SPIDER STILL CRACKS ME UP TILL THIS DAY 😂😂😂

@/moonbae17 • 1 day ago ╰ Cheollie is KING of hand placements 🥵

@/saythename • 1 day ago ╰ Jeonghan is fine with their flirting because Luna is fine with him flirting with Cheol

@/mad-lineeee • 1 day ago ╰ Luna going to Cheol when she had a nightmare 🥺

@/mrsbaebae • 1 day ago ╰ “Only back then?” SEUNGKWAN AS HE EYED JEONGHAN!! PLUS THE WAY JIYEON CHANGED THE SUBJECT 😫 1:00

@/alyy1625 • 1 day ago ╰ 15:18 GOOD LORD 🥵 CHEOL TUGGING JIYEON’S SHORTS DOWN

@/jeongnanana • 1 day ago ╰ Luna being a cute and clingy drunk 9:55 she really went 🥺

@/gyuuuuudaily• 1 day ago

╰ THAT WHOLE TOKYO ESCAPADE WITH THE CLAW MACHINE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE!

@/sallluuuteee17 • 1 day ago

╰ The way Seungcheol carried Luna so effortlessly over the puddle 11:05 HAS ME ON A CHOKEHOLD!

@/lulu-nana17• 1 day ago ╰ THAT CREEP WHO TRIED TO TAKE UPSKIRT PHOTOS OF LUNA SHOULD ROT IN HELL

@/sebongrighthere • 1 day ago ╰ Our first update of Jeonghan after weeks is him supervising the pet play date live cracks me up 🤣

@/missbitchhhh • 1 day ago ╰ This is my Challengers.

@/shadowmyshadow• 1 day ago ╰ It’s always JeongNa or CheolNa not JeongNa AND CheolNa 😣

@/angel7266 • 1 day ago ╰ Our Jiyeonie kissing Cheollie’s knee 🥺

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 1 day ago ╰ 10:45 Jeonghan getting all up behind Jiyeon to help her with the claw machine 🫠

@/user763816262 • 1 day ago ╰ Cheol and Han immediately covering Jiyeonie from that creep 😣

@/ashonashonash_ • 1 day ago ╰ THESE MFS HAD ME STRESSING OUT WITH THAT DAMN SPIDER

@/jijijiyeonienie • 1 day ago ╰ Luna had Jeonghan and Seungcheol working that claw machine while she stood there and looked pretty. That’s iconic behavior 🤭

@/baebybaejiyeonie • 1 day ago ╰ I sense a pattern. Whenever Luna feels sad, anxious, nervous, scared or whatever she immediately goes “Hannie 🥺” and Jeonghan is already nose diving to figure out what’s wrong… and I am here for it.

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[skzdarlings]

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

-

For a few moments, Felix is yours.  There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship. 

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder.  The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses.  He doesn’t think and neither do you.  You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group.  He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms. 

You’ve missed this smile.  You’ve missed these arms.   

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far.  The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse. 

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different. 

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed.  You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers.  His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise. 

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly.  Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars.  He’s your best friend again.  All yours for a few precious moments. 

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body.  Or maybe I just never noticed before. 

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body.  It feels like he is everywhere.  Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer.  You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable. 

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell.  Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty.   So very Felix.  You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him.  You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home. 

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance.  One song pours into the next.  You lose track of time.  In forgetting the world, you forget yourself.   You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him. 

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months.  Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable.  The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix.   So you have followed his lead.  Every time he accidentally pulls a face –  a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.   

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself.  He’s more sensitive now, that’s all. 

He still hugs the others.  The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different.  Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist.  He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat.  His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek.  The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other. 

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair.  You feel the shudder move through his whole body.   It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him.  It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason.  He cannot possibly be cold.  The club is packed and, besides, he is not human.  He runs hot. 

So hot.  He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together.  Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat.  You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him. 

The real world soon returns.  It’s getting late so your friends call it a night. 

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you.  Felix lives with him and the other wolves now.  They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise.  You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging. 

“I don’t mind walking,” you say. 

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable.  He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away. 

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves.  He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face.  You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers.  You want to lift his face and see his smile.    

But he doesn’t look at you.  Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable. 

“What?”  Chan says.  He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this.  “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy.  Come on.” 

The pack leader does not take no for an answer.  Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan.  He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car. 

Jeongin is in the front seat.  Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too. 

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you.   Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him.  If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.  

“I can walk,” you say to him. 

“What?”  He shakes his head.  When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real.  You know the difference.  His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink.  “Of course not,” he says.  “C’mon.  It’s late.  Let’s get home, yeah?”   

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.   

You take the middle seat.  Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it.  His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face. 

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent.  Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed.   And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you. 

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent.  You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply.  You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help.  It must be something natural to your human body.  Humans do not smell like werewolves in general.  Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics.  That includes romance.  Werewolves mate for life.  You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses.  They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses. 

You are not a werewolf.  You can never be his true mate.  In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you. 

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated.  He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers.  Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all.  Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers.  A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once. 

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same.  He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.     

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time.  You ended a bad relationship a year earlier.  It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you.  When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you.  You had never seen your best friend so emotional.  He became even more protective in the aftermath. 

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be.  It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small.  He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed.  He would make you laugh and let you cry. 

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen. 

At least, you thought so.   After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you.  You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed.  The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated.  Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon.  When he came home, he was different.   Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you. 

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.     

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building. 

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste.   He holds the door for you but averts his gaze. 

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car.   Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street. 

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled.  You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up.  Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches.  It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes. 

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment.  You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free.  The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands. 

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship.  He was immediately understanding.  It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you.  He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting.  It is agonizing to be without him.  He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now. 

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable.  When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this.  You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome.  You refuse to do it again. 

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix.  This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating.   If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself. 

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed.   You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone.  Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him.  You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed. 

So much of Felix is in your apartment.  Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more.  Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back.   It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space.  You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there. 

You fill a cardboard box.  Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation.  You are not sure what to say.  Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity.  After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple. 

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse. 

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box.  It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks.  Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor. 

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips.  You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this.  You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.  

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once.  It’s time to heal. 

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch.  You reach the elevator and press the call button.   You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside. 

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him.  He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside.  It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him. 

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.” 

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him. 

Changbin is a werewolf as well.  There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby.   The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around. 

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say.  “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away.  Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength.  Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement.   He doesn’t even break a sweat.  The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise.  You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily.   You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent.  It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed. 

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer.  You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting.  Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer. 

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead.  He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along.   Chan agrees, of course. 

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.   

Chan buzzes you into the building.  Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down.  You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help. 

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck.   In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale.  The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home.  You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice. 

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care.  You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now.  You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions. 

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor.   Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor.  You turn towards the sound. 

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see. 

Felix is home.  He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more.  His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it. 

Someone.  He is talking to a young woman.  You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack.  She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home.   You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.   

She belongs.  You do not. 

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse.  So close.  They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain.  The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible. 

Your scent reaches Felix first.  He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances. 

Nothing is funny right now.  You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all.  He has already moved on.  You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.   

“I better go,” the woman says.  She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear.   She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave.  She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her.  You can only wave back pathetically. 

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment.  You and Felix look at each other. 

He looks guilty.  Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed.  It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.  

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing.  The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea.  There is no pleasure in it at all.   

You are completely mortified. 

“Hey,” Felix says.   His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge.  He clears his throat.   “Um,” he says.  He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more.   He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm. 

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again.  “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it.  You can’t hear it.  You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated.  Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf?  It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire.   Honesty would have hurt but not like this.  Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation. 

It is too late to talk.    

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say.  All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind.  Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation.   “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box.  His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing.  “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan.  He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?”  He looks from the box to you. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears.  Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency.  “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much.  The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t.  I’m sorry.  I can’t have you in my life like this.  Thank you for your friendship.  The memories will always be important to me.  But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before.  Now you need to leave.  If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart. 

“Good luck with everything,” you say. 

You turn to leave but he says your name.  You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around. 

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion.  His mouth is moving but no words are coming out.  Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair. 

“Hold on,” he says.  “Hold on, I – what are you talking about?  You – you don’t want to be friends?  How can – You can’t—”  That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion. 

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words.  Another part of you is too heartbroken to care. 

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound.  “Really.” 

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again.   He has not looked at you so intensely for so long.  “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first.  His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it.  A hand flies up, covering his eyes.  He shakes his head rapidly. 

“Felix,” you whisper. 

“For the best?” he repeats.  He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath. 

You avert your gaze.  You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you.  “Was it – was it me?  You said – the werewolf thing –  Did I do something?  Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you.  He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been.   Maybe he thought he was being subtle.  Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life.  Maybe that is all your fault after all. 

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings.  You would have been happy for him.  If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner. 

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say. 

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing. 

“What?” he asks.  “Where is this coming from?  Please, I don’t understand.  You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.” 

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can.  “I just can’t do this anymore.  Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go.  I want to go.  Please.” 

You have known Felix all your life.  You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood. 

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face. 

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.  

You nod.  After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering.  A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes.  He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths.  “Go.  I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.” 

“Thank you,” you say softly.  The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button.  You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.” 

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob.  You name is lost in the sound.    

The door closes. 

-

The regret is instantaneous.  You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing. 

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure.  It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship. 

How could this have happened?  You and Felix have always been open with each other.  He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it.  But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship.  You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way. 

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak.  It plays on a loop in your mind. 

It is the middle of the night when you get a text.  He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way.  If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best. 

This message is more.  You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes. 

Tell me this isn’t real.  Please. 

You feel sick.  You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel.  You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely.   Mostly, you are just sad. 

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes.  I’ll never stop being sorry.  I’ll fix it.  I’ll keep my distance.  Just don’t say I can never see you again. 

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.  

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent.  It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles.  You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek.  He used to touch you like you were precious to him.  Now he flinches from your touch.    

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that.   You are not sure if it is better or worse. 

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.   

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has. 

You stare at your phone.  You take a breath.   You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed.  It is still sore to the touch. 

You write, I miss you too. 

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message.  It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply.  You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness.  It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again. 

You do not reply.  He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know? 

I know, is all you say.  I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment.   Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory.  He helped you move into this place after the break-up.  He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet.  Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him.   This was just a room before he made it a home.  Without him, it is just a room again. 

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you.  You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that.  They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while.  But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again.   His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.   

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while.  But – I thought we had a nice conversation.  Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat.  It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human.  Surely nothing serious can come of it.  You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.    

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile.  “You and me.  My treat.  No pressure.  I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.” 

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue.  You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now.   But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.   

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway.  A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human.  Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there. 

“Sure,” you say.  “I’d like that.” 

Changbin takes you out a few days later.  You actually do enjoy yourself.  He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun.  He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.  

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later.  “I’m strong!  Those games were rigged.” 

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you.  You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek.   It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic.  Does he expect to be invited into your apartment?  Does he expect… more?  The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way.  Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable.  Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship. 

You don’t need Felix. 

But you still want him. 

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible.  A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection.  There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else. 

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously.  He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying. 

You sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise.  “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say.  “We’ve known each other forever, you see.  He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known.  He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm.  I have truly never known a better man.  He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it.  You would like him, I think.  Everyone does.  He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year.  Since then…”  You sniffle.  “Things have been different.  Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word.  He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow.  “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know?  It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary.  Love is complicated.” 

That does give you pause for a moment.  A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept.  If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped.  But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably.  “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says.  “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot.  If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.” 

“I’m not in love with him…”  The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence.   Changbin just gives you an amused look.  Embarrassed, you drop your gaze.  “It doesn’t matter,” you say.  “He doesn’t feel the same way.  Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away.  I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be.  It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says.  “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right.  And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles.  A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say.  “Thank you, Changbin.” 

“Ah, it’s been fun.  But give me back my jacket,” he teases.  “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you.  I’m cold.” 

 “I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing.  You shrug off the coat and hand it to him. 

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans.  But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement.  He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered. 

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month.  It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them.   It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it. 

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered.  You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else.  Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car.  Felix, though, was radiating heat.  Was he starting a rut cycle?  Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation. 

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor.  Your heart sinks again.  Was she helping him through his rut?  Then again, she left the second you arrived.  Why were they even in the hallway?  If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway... 

“You look worried,” Changbin says. 

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day.  At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety. 

“It’s nothing,” you say.  “I’m just confused about so many things right now.” 

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.” 

“Ugh.”  You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head.  “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?” 

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket.  “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again.  With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug.  He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside. 

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor.  Changbin is right.  Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him.  Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him.  It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure.  That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering. 

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator. 

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop. 

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door.  He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that.  A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour.  It disappears at the morose look on his face.   

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head.  He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side. 

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you. 

He really looks at you. 

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing.  It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides.  It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out. 

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him.  His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual.  It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells. 

“Where were you?” he asks. 

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor.   It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you.  It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately. 

“Out,” you say.  You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”   

That softens the slash of his gaze.  He shakes his head. 

“No,” he says softly.  “Of course not.  I’m sorry.”   

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface.  You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you.  So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did.  It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had.  But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face.  A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips. 

He says your name.  It feels like a touch.  You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.   

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer.  Your scent is affecting him.  It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety.  It is blatant, searching.  For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs.   Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow. 

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face.  Your knees knock.  That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing.  It darkens his whole face.    

Of course.  He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been.  You cannot give into hopeful delusions. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence. 

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys. 

“I wanted to talk,” he says. 

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets.  You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head.   You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off.  You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate. 

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head.  He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes.  His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door.  Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.  

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck. 

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want.  You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting. 

Until you remember he hates the scent.  So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat. 

You expect him to flinch and move away.  You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it. 

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?” 

“What?” you say.  “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath.  “It’s all over you.  Who is he?” 

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour.  You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf.   To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it.   You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice. 

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before.  He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you.  The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start.   It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it. 

Now it overrides his good sense.  His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit. 

“He’s just a friend,” you say. 

“A friend,” he repeats.  “He doesn’t smell like a friend.” 

“Well, he is,” you say.  All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling.  With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?” 

You look into his eyes.  He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you.  It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back.  There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.    

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest. 

One hand leaves the door.  He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command.  It makes another firework burst inside you.  You gasp. 

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss. 

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow.  You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing.  You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want. 

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too.  You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you.  He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist.  His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt.  No, Felix would never hurt you.  Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would. 

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places.  The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy. 

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door.  He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer.  You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours. 

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door.  The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right.  Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall.  He will always fix what hurts.  He will always take care of you. 

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him.  It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all.  You are not thinking when you start to rock against him. 

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.  

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage.  It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath.  Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him. 

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly.  It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you.  It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor.  You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment.  You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off. 

It doesn’t matter.  You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it.  You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you. 

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm.  It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender.  Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.   

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments.  You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together.  You can feel his heart beating hard and fast.  It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below. 

So much for conversation.  Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all. 

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization.  You push at him and he goes obediently. 

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.  He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically. 

Your heart is still pounding.  You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down. 

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look. 

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust.  Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all.  It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him. 

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need. 

“Oh my god,” you say again.  You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world.  You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind.  “I just—”  You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze.  “Just give me some time,” you say.  “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you.  He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult.  Sweat breaks out on his hairline.  “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say.  “I know.” 

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side.  He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone. 

You can hear him bounding down the stairs.  You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear. 

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys.  You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees. 

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

-

You realize you have been wrong about so many things.  You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago.  You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them.  It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.   

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse.  It makes you hesitate. 

A day goes by.  Felix respects your space.  On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes. 

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan. 

Hey, he writes.  I need to talk to you right now.  It’s about Felix. 

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write.  What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes.  Felix is in rut.  You know what that is? 

Yes, you say. 

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane.  Then you are flustered as you recall the other night.  You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it.   Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you. 

Right, Chan says.  Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something.  I wouldn’t do that.  You have no responsibility for anything.   But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right?  Like… insane in love.  Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one. 

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word.  The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask.  I saw her at his apartment.   

What??? Chan answers quickly.  No.  I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you.  I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen.  You know he thinks he’s a monster right? 

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation.  He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her.  You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain.  You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could.  You assumed he just wanted to reject you. 

Chan says Felix is in love you.  Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again? 

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.     

A monster? you write.  What do you mean? 

That doesn’t even make sense.  Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know.  Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way. 

Yeah, Chan says.  Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult.  He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly.  He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.   

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen. 

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too.  I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that.  I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak.  The last month of drama attests to that. 

What do you want me to do?  you ask.  You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more. 

Can you just talk to him please?  Chan says.  He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in.  He stopped answering my messages too.  Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones.  They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t.  I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone. 

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow.  Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay.  He listened.  He let you go because he thought you wanted that.  He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you. 

Tears blur your vision.  You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan. 

I’ll go to him, you write.  I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says.  You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says.  He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it.  Give the guy a smack for me, hey? 

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet.  You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second.  You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what.  You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him.  This time, you will make him understand. 

-

The two city blocks pass in a blur.  You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street. 

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath.  You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach. 

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize.  They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock.   You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock.  Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.   

It does not look any different from the last time you were here.  Even your slippers are still by the door.  You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter. 

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar.  The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows. 

You finally hear a sound.  You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room. 

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling.  Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans.  It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night.  Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh.  You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt.  You wondered if it got on him. 

You certainly have an answer now.  

Felix is touching himself.  He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart.  His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly.  His hand is wrapped around his cock.  One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand.  He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose.  He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.     

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax.  You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material.  His eyes are closed, head thrown back. 

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name. 

His reply is a startled yelp as well.  You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions.  He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down. 

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers. 

“Um, me too,” you say.    

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside.  He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair. 

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath.  You slowly lower your fingers from your face. 

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled.  After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile.  You tentatively return it. 

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek.  He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together.  It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension. 

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks. 

“Um, Chan texted,” you say. 

“Oh, for the love of—”  He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily. 

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget. 

“Um, he told me… he told me…”  You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his.  You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes.  You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.  

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare.  Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions.  You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity. 

“I—”  You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice.  You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them.  “I thought my scent disgusted you.” 

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle.  Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head.  A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back. 

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks.  “Dis—disgusted me?  You thought—”  He looks back at the couch too.  He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red.  “Um.  No.”  He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes.  “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again.  You rock a little on the balls of your feet.  “Yes.  I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath.  His eyes drop from your face down your body.  You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful.   “No, I’m not disgusted.  Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say.  It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there.  “And you’ve been so distant, Felix.  I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.” 

His face scrunches up with bewilderment. 

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up.  It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display.  He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face.  “I could never feel that way,” he says.  “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that.  You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly.  “I wish you would have told me how you felt.  I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all.   You’re my person too, you know.” 

He exhales, shoulders deflating.  He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say.  Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says.  “You’ve been through so much.  I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion.  You take a step closer as well.  “Felix, you’re not a burden.  I wanted so badly to take care of you.  I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder.  It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath. 

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible.  “As a – as a friend – or?”  He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again. 

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily.  You hold his gaze.  When you smile, it is honest and affectionate. 

“I love you, Felix,” you say.  “As more than a friend.  As everything.” 

“Oh,” he says.  His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again.  His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers.  He blinks at you.  “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh. 

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding.  “Because you thought I didn’t want you.  Oh my god.  I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step.  He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes.  Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating. 

“Look,” he says.  “I – I can’t just say I love you.”  Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough.  I do, I do love you.  The werewolf gene activated for you.  The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no.  They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself.  That’s what happened to me.  Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself.  I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks.  “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting.  I wanted to protect you.  I never wanted to see you suffering again.  I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate.  My wolf, it’s like my heart.  It’s just an animal, you know?  And it only understands loyalty and love.  And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same.  They could barely keep me contained in that hospital.  I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you.  I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst.  “Oh, Felix, me too.” 

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour.  You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you. 

“I wish you would have told me,” you say.  “But it’s my fault too.  I know I’m still recovering in some ways.  I’m quick to think little of myself.  But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head.  I’m sorry too.  So, so sorry.” 

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice. 

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine.  You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes.  He swallows hard, staring back. 

“It was silly,” you say.  “I even thought you were seeing someone else.  That werewolf lady in your pack.  I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.” 

“That’s crazy,” he says.  “You’re my everything.” 

“And you’re mine,” you say.  

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips.  His skin is so hot it makes you gasp.  Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips. 

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed.  “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in—  I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer.  You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out. 

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck.  It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open.  He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.   

“You want me,” he says.  When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief.  “Ruts are… intense,” he says. 

“Mm,” is your gentle reply.  Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch.  You meet his gaze.  “But it’s you, right?” 

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze.  Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours.  You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second.  You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery.   There is so much of him. 

But that is what you love.  You can never have enough. 

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper.  His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday.  Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him. 

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth.  “Yes, it’s me.” 

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape.  In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate.  A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.  

You do, utterly.  You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger. 

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.  

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat. 

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says.  “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say.  Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers. 

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back.  He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides.  He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core.  Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl. 

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress.  “I’m yours.” 

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening.  In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him. 

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front.   The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase. 

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck.  You tip your head, offering more skin.  It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin.  He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip.  He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor. 

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra.  You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor.  You rock back against him when he touches you.  He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze. 

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says.  “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.” 

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.  

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck.  It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking. 

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights. 

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp.  “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck.  “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.”  You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing.  “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.” 

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it.   He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back. 

“At first, I was just sad,” he says. 

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table.  You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.  

You meet his gaze when he comes back.  He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face.  He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed. 

“Then I really thought about it,” he says.  “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.”  He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head.  “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.”  He leans down, kissing along your jaw.  “With me.  Under me.  Moaning my name.  Forgetting about everything else.” 

“Did you—”  You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking.  You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body.  “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What?  Did I get off to your scent?” he asks.  “Yes.”  His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights.  “I told myself I shouldn’t.  The last few ruts I managed.  It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by.  But – you weren’t coming back, were you?  You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright.  He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights. 

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says.  “Soft, like you.  Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.” 

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh. 

“Put it on my face,” he says.  “Tasted it.  Like I wanted to taste you.” 

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy.  He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through.   You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up. 

“Mmm.”  He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips.  He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down. 

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips.  He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him.  You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder. 

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way. 

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue.  “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…”  He slips two fingers inside you.  Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in. 

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you.  He grins when you clench around him.  “Show you we were meant to be,” he says.  “Just like this.”  He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels.  “Wolf or not.  Knew you were mine.  Was gonna make sure you know too.” 

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you.  “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?” 

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says.  “Right… here…” 

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue.  You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers. 

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs. 

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you.  He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable.  Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.   

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings.   You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you.   You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks.  You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream. 

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut.  Maybe because of it.  His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly.  He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you. 

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?” 

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster. 

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks.  “Impossible.” 

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back.  He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me.  Right now.” 

You do, blinking your eyes open.  His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth.  You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze. 

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly.  With Felix, it feels right, it feels good. 

“It’s you and me,” he says.  “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb.  It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more.   You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try. 

“You’re my mate,” he says.  “Just you.  It’s always – always been you.”  He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.  

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer. 

 “Gonna be mine,” he says.  “That’s right, yeah?”  You nod frantically.  “Yeah.  Gonna put a ring on your finger.  You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you?  Gonna let me take care of you.  Gonna be my mate.  Gonna have my children.  You and me.  Home.  Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children.  It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why.  You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought.  Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth.  He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other. 

“Look at me,” he whispers. 

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him.  It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you.  You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely.  You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.    

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue.  “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says.  He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust.  “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you.  “Yeah.  Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway.  It can’t stop me.” 

He holds your hips, keeps you in place.  He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you. 

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human.  That difference is exacerbated on a rut.  You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases.  Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question. 

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down.  Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you.  The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others.  It ripples through you, makes you moan. 

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself. 

You look up at Felix.  His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh.  You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you.  That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.  

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it. 

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body.  He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness.   Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you.  The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today. 

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him. 

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders.  You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes.  He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again. 

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck. 

“Good,” you say. 

“Not too much?” he checks. 

“Mm, no,” you say.  You give him a teasing smile.  “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?”  He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity.  “Should I growl and bite more?”  He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica. 

It makes you laugh.  You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.    

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too.  “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?” 

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily.  He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you.  He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens. 

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him. 

“Oh shit,” he says.  “I see.” 

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front.  Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.  

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you.  It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.  

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips.  You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim. 

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet.  “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?” 

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure.   You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.  

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you.  You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up. 

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second.  “I got you.  I’ll give you a baby.  So good for me.  Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?” 

 You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand.  Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too. 

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming.  Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible. 

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily.   You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you. 

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers.  It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle. 

He rolls you over and cups your face.  You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck.    He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here. 

“Wow,” he says.  The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life.  He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue.  “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth.  And my mouth.  You’re gonna sit on my face for hours.  I’m gonna take care of you.  Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest.  He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head. 

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse. 

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys.  His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane.  He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can.  He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace. 

“My turn,” you say, smiling.  “I want to take care of you too.” 

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them.   He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.   

You make him come twice that way.  After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break. 

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you.  You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it.  You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest. 

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back. 

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you.  “I want everything with you.” 

“Me too,” you say.  You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently.  “I love you, Felix.  Everything about you, wolf and all.” 

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead. 

There is a long moment of content silence.  He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state.  It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again. 

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know.  As my mate.  That makes you one of us.” 

“Does it?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says.  “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.” 

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes. 

“Sounds good,” you say.  “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…” 

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all.  You giggle together and kiss again. 

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape.  You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there.  “It can wait,” you say, smiling.  “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.” 

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need.  He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him. 

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.