#i just needed it on it's own....for posterity......

[vieberry]

Glitch Series: Itoshi Sae ● ● Glorified Anime Mat

“From football prodigy to floor decor... what a career arc.”

── .✦Synopsis: ​​In a surreal twist of fate, football prodigy Itoshi Sae wakes up in a bedroom shrine dedicated entirely to… himself. Surrounded by merch, posters, and a cardboard cutout, he gradually uncovers the unsettling truth… he’s somehow crossed into the real world, where he exists only as an anime character. ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

Sae’s eyes snap open. He’s lying on an unfamiliar floor. The air smells faintly of plastic and paper. He pushes himself up and blinks, trying to register his surroundings.

This isn’t a locker room. Not the stadium. Not even a proper bedroom.

He sat up in an unfamiliar bed and blinked. The first thing that caught his eye?

A carpet. With his own anime face printed on it. Staring up at him.

“...Is that me?” he muttered. “Why am I on the floor?”

He stood, slowly. His foot landed on his own cheek.

“Okay. We’ve crossed a line.”

Sae stands still in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly, like he’s bracing himself for impact that hasn’t come yet. His sharp eyes trace every poster, plushie, and glinting keychain.

“I’m probably dreaming. Or it’s one of those weird injuries where your brain fries and you hallucinate your worst-case scenario.”

He eyes a particularly glittery keychain version of himself doing a midair volley, dangling off a lamp.

“Okay. Let’s think logically. One: I got kidnapped. That’s... possible. Probably by some obsessed fan who thinks surrounding me with plush versions of myself will win me over. Solid strategy, if you’re psychotic.”

The room was a museum of Sae. Plushies in every pose imaginable. Posters. Keychains. One horrifying body pillow he refused to acknowledge. A life-size cardboard cutout in the corner.

He glares at the cardboard cutout... like it personally offended him.

He walked past it, paused, and squinted.

“…That’s not me. My bottom-lashes aren’t that long.”

They were. Painfully so.

“Oh yeah. This is healthy.” He thought.

“Absolutely no red flags here. I’m in a room filled with 37 different versions of my own face. One of them is smiling.” “I never smile like that.”

He crouches slightly, picking up a plushie. It squeaks. He stares at it like it just insulted his lineage.

“Great. They gave me a sound effect. I’m officially merchandise.”

He stands again, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the quickening beat of his heart he refuses to acknowledge

“No. There’s a rational explanation. Maybe I’m in a themed hotel room. For freaks. Sponsored by... whatever anime they think I’m from.”

He stops. Blinks. Eyes widening just slightly, the thought slowly crawling into his head like a virus.

“Wait... Anime?”

He looks back at the largest poster on the wall, an illustrated version of himself, detailed, stylized, intense. Not a photograph. Not a reflection.

Sae glanced at a sticker on the wall that reads “Itoshi Sae 4EVER 💖”

“...I’m going to kill whoever did this.”

Sae stalks across the room now, his steps are slow, deliberate, almost cautious, like walking through a minefield made entirely of... himself.

Then he sees it.

A small TV tucked into the corner of the room, resting on a low table. The screen is on. The volume’s low, but not muted. Bright blue light flickers across the walls.

Drawn to it by a mix of suspicion and mounting dread, Sae approaches.

Onscreen, there’s a soccer field. A familiar one. The match is fast-paced, the animation crisp. He sees figures sprinting, shouting… then a close-up shot fills the screen.

It’s him.

"…No"

It was Blue Lock. The anime. He was on screen, hair billowing like he lived in a shampoo commercial. The music swelled. A narrator called him a genius.

“...I need bleach for my brain.”

He finally turns off the TV with the heel of his palm, the screen going dark with a final “Thank you for watching!” jingle.

Sae backs away slowly. Something shifts behind his eyes, a silent, imploding thought taking root.

“So this is it. I’m not real. I’m some... fictional athlete. A personality stitched together by writers and voice actors. Marketed. Sold.”

“Every thought I’ve ever had... scripted? Every moment I’ve lived… panel by panel?”

His fists clench.

A quiet beat.

“I’m a f**ing brand.”

Sae’s pacing now, the soft thud of his steps muffled by his own stupidly perfect animated face stretched across the carpet. His arms are tense, his mouth drawn in a bitter line as he scans the room for exits, windows, a door, a rift in the universe, anything..

“This is ridiculous. I didn’t spend my whole life training, grinding, perfecting passes for this…”

“For… plush physics. For rug-face. For people to step on me in chibi form.”

He yanks at the door handle. Locked. He rattles it again, harder. Nothing.

He kicks the base of the door with a grunt and turns away, dragging a hand down his face.

So this is how it ends. Not as a Ballon d’Or winner. Not in a Champions League final. But as a… glorified anime mat. With sparkles. Great.

But then…

A strange tremor pulses through his body. His vision twitches for half a second, like static flickering at the edges. The edges of his limbs distort faintly, pixels breaking and reforming for a blink. The air thickens, humming low like a faraway engine revving up.

“...What the hell”

Another glitch. His hand flickers. His fingers momentarily transparent.

He stumbles back. The posters around him begin to warp, their glossy surfaces rippling like water. The carpet beneath his feet pulses with light, like the ground is remembering it was never real to begin with.

He realizes it now.

“It’s pulling me back. I’m not supposed to be here. I never was.”

He looks around one last time… at the room that mocked him with admiration, that stripped him bare with obsession. But also… the one place where he was seen.

Suddenly, he dives toward the desk. He finds a pen. Grabs a sticky note. Shakes the pen to life with the urgency of a dying man. His hand glitches as he writes, but he forces the words out, teeth grit, scrawling furiously.

The note reads:

To the owner of this room… GET HELP. Your taste is questionable. P.S. My lashes are not that long. — Sae

Just as the last letter dries, his hand flickers violently and then his entire body pixelates, color draining from him as the world begins to reject his presence.

The pen drops from his fading fingers.

The sticky note flutters gently to the floor beside the rug… landing perfectly on his printed anime face.

[luigis-lover]

Cinema date w Luigi

went to the theaters today and couldn’t help it! My thoughts jumbled onto the array of words down below lmfao (headcanons)

You already know Luigi has has to be prepared and feel like he’s planned everything to the tee. even if it’s just simply to watch a film.

like would show up early, though early to him is ‘on time’

would show up half an hour early to say the very least: get good parking, wait in line to get you all the snacks you don’t need but want

he would let you blabber off to the cashier, giving you free reign of the concession stand.

and of course wouldn’t let you hold a thing on your way to the movie’s viewing room

but of course you couldn’t let him suffer and hold the drinks, popcorn, candies, etc all by himself. so you offered your help. much to his dismay. but his arms were full and you felt bad

“Come on. Let me help you babe.” you’d reach out to grab ahold of a concession item

His brows would furrowed, offended that you’re offering your help. As if he wasn’t capable

as much as his arms were full and large hands could hold, he wouldn’t admit that he was trying to hold it all in place. Never in a million years admitting that they could fall, with any given wrong move or step

he give you the meanest side eye.

“I got it. Now keep walking. We’re almost there.” He could see the theater room that the movie would be playing in, across the hallway. Vibrant patterns on the rug below you two. Neon lights and posters of upcoming movies surrounding the walls.

You huff and snatch one of the items either way. Grabbing a bag of candies that was close to slipping, in between his enclosed elbow and rib.

You wouldn’t dare question his ability to provide. You found it adorable, really. But you didn’t want to be left empty handed while he arms and hands were full.

He’d give you the sassiest side eye as you take something off his hands. But knowing you’re too good for your own good.

“Come on. Just let it be.” You’d say softly. Grabbing ahold of another item.

He knew well enough not to argue back. Knowing how silly it would be and how stubborn you two are.

He’d definitely choose a seat all the way in the back. Already scheming!

As you two were early, the screen was filled with little fun facts and trivia questions before the previews played.

Sitting peacefully in the reclining chairs, setting up the snacks on the trays that overlapped your bodies.

You had brought in a warm fuzzy blanket, lifting up the middle compartment between both of your seats. Selling into each other.

Popping in popcorn, sipping ICEEs, eating all the junk food that was way too much for the both of you

Switching between holding hands, Luigi wrapping his arm over your shoulder bringing you in closer. Or simply sitting next to each other, as both of your legs spread out on the reclining seats.

As the movie started, the lights flickering off, darkening the room, he’d give it time before he was reaching his hand in between your thighs.

Way too high for it to be innocent

Your eyes widening as it caught you off guard. Turning your face to glare at him as you’re trying to watch the movie.

Swatting his hand away and turning back to the big screen.

His big goofy smile evading his face, dimples casting, eyes glowing and you can’t help but smile as you see him in your peripheral view.

“Luigi, stop.” You’d mutter softly as you didn’t want to disturb the viewers around you. But tone clear

But he knew you weren’t serious to the point where you’d really stop him. Already knowing you’re trying to hide your smile.

He’d give it a minute, damn thirty seconds before he was at it again!

“Baby, stop.” You’d mumble not looking over at him this time. Trying to have some modesty. Though his hand was under the cozy blanket you’d brought to keep you warm.

But it’s his perfect alibi.

He’d lean in closer, his voice making you shiver.

“No.” His deep voice rumbled against your ear and neck

You’d exhale and try to focus on the movie. Knowing there was no stopping him.

Trying to hide the fact that your heart was beating out of your chest, making your cheeks warm. Glad the room was dark.

But Luigi could see it clear as day as the wide screen casted a glow on your visage.

He’d chuckle as your eyes were on the screen. Leaning in closer, cuddling into you. His face on your chest as he’d wrap his arms around your waist.

Not even focusing on the film. Just slightly catching a glimpse of it. Understanding it briefly, catching the gist of the film.

His face nestling where your breasts start to form. Feeling his curls against your chest.

Your breath would hitch as you’d feel him tempt you. Peppering kisses on your chest, above your breasts.

You could hear it bright as day, afraid that the people surrounding you two would hear the smooches he was giving you.

You’d hush him and he’d only smirk. Making you blush.

“Stop baby.” You’d try again, blushing immensely. Already missing scenes that didn’t pause for you two.

Your gasp turning some heads, as his hand cupped your pussy through your comfy pants. Glad it was hidden underneath the blanket and that there wasn’t people directly sitting next to you guys.

His grin would only grow at your loud reaction. he’d start rubbing circles over your clit. Feeling you humidify your sweatpants.

Seeing how your demeanor changed from being all into the movie to your eyes closed and leaned against the reclined seat.

Only feeding into his ego. Seeing how much of a hold he had over you.

Your lip bitten, trying to hold in your stifling moans. The once clear and bright screen becoming fuzzy and pixelated.

In too deep to be upset at him for making you miss the movie.

His hand would slip into your waistband, down your panties. An arrogant smile plastered on his face as your legs would instinctively widen for him.

Loving the little breathy whimpers that managed to escape your lips. Only for his ears as you maintained quiet.

The movie went on and right when the sound effects would fill the room, he’d fasten his rubs against your wet clit making you let out a little yelp.

Your hand going over your mouth instantly. but as everyone around you was so enamored by the intense scene on the screen, your little yell drowned into theater. everyone assuming (falsely) that you were so into the film and the glorified suspenseful scene

It didn’t take too long before his fastened rubs and clear intended angles of his fingers against you combined with the thrill of public sex, got you going.

The warmth releasing into your body, spreading to your limbs. Your eyes closing, breath heavy and raggedy. The darkness in your closed eyes spinning as your head fell into his arms.

His smile no longer a smirk but a content and proud one. Holding you as you’d quietly come undone with simply rubbing you off.

Pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead that met your hairline. Happy and warm hearted seeing you like this. So vulnerable and in his arms, in such a place.

Your body would jolt as the you came back to reality, hearing the loud voices playing from the speakers.

Eyes opening and heart beating as you came back to life. Meeting him

You couldn’t even be mad at him. His smile and eyes on you, making you melt.

“I can’t believe you.” You’d whisper, eyes shining and dilated after your high. Cheeks flushed and heart fluttering.

His smile would just grow and he’d let out a pleased chuckle. Seeing his girl undone while she once was all focused on the movie.

Of course he wouldn’t be a bad boyfriend. As your eyes would go back on the screen, already seeing your brows furrow in confusion. Trying to piece together everything you’ve missed. He would already be explaining everything you missed while you were gone and eyes closed

He had been multitasking. While he was whisking away at your bundle of nerves, he was also focusing and listening intently on what going on the screen. Not wanting you to miss out.

The rest of the movie, you two would be cuddled together. A perfect form of aftercare.

Arms around each other, all clingy after he had given you an unexpected orgasm. Head on his chest, your reclined seats allowing your legs to tangle. Being all soft and submissive in his arms.

Now, able to enjoy the movie after he got what he wanted

-

This was my first time writing for him! just imagining him actually being out and being able to simply go out and watch a movie gets to me 😣

feel free to add your thoughts onto this 🫡

[moraishi]

Shelter

Roles: Sylus, lazier Mc.

Prompt: with zero logic and lore i decided to make an au where Mc and Sylus aint that close but still know each other. And yea dont question how but Sylus *had* to use your house as a shelter. I can make it serie or something if anyone interested.

The morning was just like others, lazy yet pretty chill in your hella living room. you love weekends and this lazy friday nights. The city is quiet and everyone minding their own business. Mostly no missions or last minute calls. Moonlight hitting just the right spot on your wall, posters with quotes like ‘music is my only drug’ or ‘danger - catloaf zone’.

And the coach? It’s another story itself. Just you and your cheap cereal filled with some bland milk. Couch is so warm with your blanket on your body and pillows hugging to you like emotional supports. There are some unfinished books on the other side of your couch. But now? All of them enjoying the tv like you are doing.

Tv playing some kitten snoring commercials faintly, some kitties even have hats on them while they snore. Making you yawn as you watch them a little longer.

Nothing can break this peace, nothing. So perfect. So peaceful. So..

Everything.

Which is probably the first red flag you should notice, nothing go peacefull in your weekends. Not a single day, especially when kittens are involved. So why this friday night is so pe-

Bang!

The door kicked open like fbi finally found your weird obession with absurd reality shows. Making you slightly turn your head toward it. Of course, what now? Some debts u didn’t payed or rents? Oh even maybe taxes u are completely ignoring.

But no, its someone else,

A silver haired man with crimson eyes you know so well. Dressed like a vampire lord with that black coat on his board shoulders and hands inside his pockets. That face? Kind of face that make you want to change your path or drop a smooch while passing.

Sylus. You know him so well. That damn man.. you wish it was your landlord but no. Sylus standing on calmly like he just did not broke your door.

You two recently considered as.. accidental friends or some shit like this. When you go out to missions you mostly bump into him with your cursed luck. Like some special protocore you need to take care of in an intel? Sylus is there in the meeting room. A gala where they sell a rare stuff that need to be handed to right hands? He buyed the damn gala already.

“What you expect me to say to my landlord now? Onychious leader decided to give me a gift by breaking my door?”

You said calmly while taking a spoon from your cereal. Still in that lazy half sitting and half laying position with kittens snores playing on background.

Sylus just ghosted your question and stepped in like he own the place or something, but with the way he did you aint sure if he already own it or not.

He didn’t even bother to look at your tired face as he throw some documents into your coffee table next to your sketck book full of anatomies and lottery tickets.

“Did your so ‘secured’ base got attacked or something? What with the sudden come.”

You asked with your mouth full with cereals, staring at him with two pair of bored eyes.

He finally decide to look at you, his serious face was kind of scaring. “Too long to explain, the offer you made temped me.” He said before sitting next to you on the edge of your weird couch which probably have rats living inside it. Taking the documents in his hands and already started checking the every word- no like every character in it uninterestedly.

“What offer you are talking about now?”

You raised a brow and sit up, placing your bowl of chaos aside and wiping the milk from your mouth. getting closer to him to take a glance at his documents.

He smirked at your confused expression before start talking. “You told me ‘if your bond mansion pissed the wrong devils one day you can take a visit to my apartment.’ Well, who am i to decline now?.” A one last stare to documents and he tossed them off again, standing up and already analyzing the house.

Hilarious situation, almost ironic. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You don’t have any humor do you? I said it as a damn joke..”

He turned to you and smirked with a shrug

“And yours was anything but a joke. Dont make promises you can’t keep kitten.”

You rolled your eyes and take your bowl back, taking another spoon of acidic cereal.

“Well i thought someone so ‘important’ like you would own some hotels or places for any cases. Safer and luxurious places.’

“I do. But every place is compromised, for now.” He said, peeling off his coat and flinging it onto your couch like it belonged there. “Your apartment is a better shelter to hide. Safer from my other surroundings.”

And then he grabbed the weird flowers you stole from your neighbors garden in vase. Smirking as the flower slowly started turning to.. red. “Safer yet still a mess, lucky for you i leave my marks.”

You were about to make a dirty comeback, make sure to make him regret even coming here by your weird anticts but you felt something stop on your lap, you slowly lowered your head and eyes widened as you look down to see a damn.. crow?! With a mechanical wing and eye, gawking at you and making a home to itself on your lap

“You own a crow?! Every minute with you feel like reading a ‘how to be vampire guide’.. whats next? blood bags in my fridge.”

You said with a teasing tone while your hand slowly go to crow’s little head, hestitately petting it. So not only one but two roomies now? How great. At least crow is fluffy and cute unlike the other roomie.

Sylus gave a small kick to empty energy drink cans on the floor, his hand on his hips with a slightly disgusted face. Who he is to come to your zone and judge it? Aint liking my shit? Door on that way.

“And i suppose yours is a zombie guide? Noisy mouth and mess everywhere. Will i find a dead body under your bed too? Won’t be suprised if i do” He said with a wider mocking smirk.

You just shot him a smirk back while shifting to a better position on your couch, a sure one.

“Hell you will find a dead body soon, he will have silver hair and red eyes too.”

[smolestbrein]

Like ... I just think the film isn't as deep as it think it is.

Look, Megatron is evil and I will not deny that. But I have to scratch my head at how he's really the only main character here.

Bumblebee?https://x.com/TFHypeGuy/status/1769212602800800250 Keagan was literally instructed to not sound like anything else but him. The film not only has Bee purely for the reason of popularity, but he's just a joke machine where the serious moments don't even come from his character but the writers realizing that he was there and needed to take it seriously. So now one of the central four is nothing more than a joke, where even the potential interesting angle of his clear mental instability only existing to make him funny.

Elita-One? Whatever the voice director was asking for, it was damn well wrong. Elita starts out really only has the second annoyed adult, but has so little dynamic with Orion that the climax of her going "you've always seen the better world" feels really unearned because they had the same dynamic as Orion with Byaverse Optimus. I really was also bothered by the High Guard recruitment scene (more on that).

Orion is the worst for me. For a guy who's supposed to be "loud" and a wild spirit, he's almost completely brushed off when the plot actually rolls in. Like yes he's trying to build the better world, but he feels largely un-impactful, and even his speech to the miners was kinda undercut by Megs getting fucking branded by Sentinel.

At every step after they find out about Sentinel, Megs gets all the strong moments whereas Orion kinda doesn't. He only gets one cool scene but it comes after Megatron getting branded. He feels like a peripheral protagonist (is that the right term?), where Megatron is the main character as Optimus is just the point of view he see him from. He barely has the emotions that Megs pulls on-screen.

Yes he defeats Sentinel's control over them, but the narrative inflection uses Megatron splitting him in half as the end of his era. An even is you want to say that's not the case, one should also have problems with the fact that Alpha literally fucking says "VALIANT SACRIFICE" for quite literally the worst time.

It's not "making abuse victims/oppressed people into villains because they dared to fight back and be uncivil about it" but it comes from that trope, the skeleton is still there despite every context in the film. The only guy who's "embodying" (or at the very least has the most screen time to that feeling) the anger of being robbed of his own rights is written to be a guy devoured by it and turns into a fascist that drives his planet to madness while the hero was given the fucking Excalibur of their world by their god for a sacrifice that was neither on his intention.

Like ... people really think the narrative thought that deeply for the foot-soldiers of Sentinel, the faceless drone coded mooks past them being fodder for fight scenes and kills? The story never draws upon them for the morality of slicing Sentinel down, it's just that Megs was going down the dark side and Orion wants to stop that.

And also, one of the dumbest statements I've seen also drive me nuts.

"D-16 was always clearly evil-" I have to stress this very clearly, one the main characters on the fucking poster is a glorified comedian cameo was straight up asked not to act as said character. Trying to stretch scenes where the comedy and joke is basically "Orion is a dumbass motherfucking idiot and D is the tired adult in the relationship." There's never any inflection or framing before or after to say this. Even the fucking script doesn't support this. I don't believe those scenes were that thought through. Even Cooley doesn't support it.

And that's just my problem, the character the most visible and focused emotions in the film is the one that wants bloody vengeance of the despotic, deceiving tyrant who mutilated the young as to create a social underling class to feed the greatest enemy of their people but that will turn him into the villain and the hero is a dude who only has one good scene and a few lines that should not be subtle or set-ups and also becomes their Arthur for taking a shot for the fascist.

Orion is just so under-baked. And I won't lie that real-life politics also influence my views on the film. So for the character with that visibility to be ham-fisted as becoming the the villain, with little to no actual power-hunger or even hidden evil past being a crash-out because he finds out his life is a lie for tyrant to hoard pleasures for himself, it feels off.

(And don't even get me started on the High Guard. These guys could've been a whole lot more interesting, but the come out of nowhere and only exist to give Megatron the Decepticon Army. The idea of a toxic mindset being implanted into Megs falls apart when you remember that Megs was already becoming more controlling like the hill scene. And he doesn't even get to lead them, Elita has more screen time as the leader of the High Guard/Decepticons than Megatron. Their characterization is nil for a fertile ground of soon to be Autobots, hell have some of the miners become Decepticons when they get their T-cogs back.)

Whatever drives Optimus isn't going to matter, because the story univocally goes with the idea that his sacrifice for fucking SENTINEL is what got him the Matrix. Because if the sacrifice was somehow because he was willing to die for D's innocence, then it just comes of as insulting for the story to insinuate that the main black-voiced character was becoming a villain because he was oppressed by the guy was basically a slave since birth (and yes Keagan will never fucking count as a character) and the guy telling him to "tome it down" is given god's divine cool card.

Orion is like stale bread here, he makes a good speech that should've been placed somewhere else in a film that gives him better scenes so he would be more impactful.

The politics of the film can't exist in the vacuum and I find it borderline propagandist in how it's own internal justifications are basically Thermian Argument. I know the damn context and characters, it just hits a little too close to certain things and sayings in certain funny parts of history when the oppressed were enraged over the pain they suffered. Too close for me to go "but the F-French Revolution" every time I think about it.

[kikikoifish]

AYOOO NEW POSTER CHATT 🗣🗣

Guys Bonnie mentioned 🗣🗣🎉🎉✨️

I'm gonna yap if yall want to stay and hear me babble about lore for a sec (we would love if you stayed 😊)

I was playing Security Breach with a friend yesterday, but something I noticed while starting was the color of Freddy's eyes. Now some of you know the art of Vanny, GlamBonnie, and Glitchtrap I did just the other day (link here), but I realized that Bonnie and Freddy have the same eye color, a bright yellowish-white. Wheras the other animatronics have their normal eye colors. This was something I had never realized before, and I think it's an interesting thing to look into!

Here is a list of things that I think might be relevant when considering the meaning or significance of eye color in Security Breach:

In all promotional material, the animatronics have their "normal" eye colors (for Freddy this is typically blue, but ocassionally appears to be more indigo or violet, as well as a few times having plain black irises)

In the opening sequence, all have their normal eye colors, including Freddy

Freddy's eye color changes to yellow-white after he boots up in safe mode

Even after he collapses after attacked by moon (this is when moon drags him away and Gregory must do the Endo section), Freddy's eyes are still on and white-yellow

Bonnie's eye color in all promotional art is either a dark pink or magenta color, with one cutout of him falling in particular being much more akin to a maroon color

Bonnie's eye color when we find his body is yellow-white, the same shade as the wet floor bot's eye color. When we deactivate all wet floor bots, his eyes return to his normal dark pink color.

SOMETHING OF NOTE: while Freddy's irises are yellow-white with his pupils are black, we only see Bonnie with yellow-white irises and pupils.

The wet floor bots all have the same yellow-white "eye" color

Freddy's eyes change purple when being mind controlled by Burntrap/Glitchtrap/Mimic??

In the different endings of the came with the comic-style drawings, we actually see Freddy with multiple different eye colors (despite all canonically needing to be completed after he receives Roxy eyes)

Car Escape Ending: Freddy has his normal blue eyes

VIP Ending: Freddy has yellow eyes like Roxy

Dissasemble Vanny Ending: Freddy has blue eyes as he begins to power off

Princess Quest Ending: Freddy has blue eyes again

Dissasemble Freddy Cutscene: his eyes are still yellow-white here like in game

Burntrap Ending Cutscene: his eyes are white-yellow here as well

In a Playstation State of Play GIF, we can see the main Glamrock Animatronics going up the main stage elevator, all appearing to have their normal iris color, but instead with piercing red pupils

It also appears that Freddy's eyes are yellow-white in his minigame in Help Wanted 2, but he may be the only one who has this? If anyone has more info about Help Wanted 2 that would be helpful, as I've never played it myself and don't know enough of the smaller details like eye color and stuff.

Current Theory!!

I still have a lot more research to do, but my current theory is that the change in eye color signifies that they are booted in Safe Mode, since that could be the main similarity between them. However, considering Bonnie is not likely to be functional or present, that could be why his pupils aren't black. However, the fact that he's still powered on is telling. So is it possible that he lives through the wet floor bots? Or that he receives power from the bots, since he powers off when they are powered off? Honestly I think it's a mixture of both!! The pupils tell us he's not present in his own body, but the yellow tells us he's not gone completely.

Sorry this isn't a super polished theory yet!! I want to spend more time working on this, so thank you for being patient!! I hope you guys have a good day, and that this gives you somw things to think about :D

[theshiniestgemstone]

I have been LOVING your fics

Could you write one where the reader is asking for the Gemstone family's blessing to propose to Gideon? Gender neutral preferably. I feel like Amber would be so so ecstatic about it

-🐢

I love this idea. Thank you sm for the request!! <3

You knocked on the door of Jesse and Amber’s home. It was more of a formality than anything else. You had a key, after all, nestled on the same ring as the one to your own front door, a quiet, shared understanding that you were family now. But still, it felt like the kind of visit that needed the extra second. The breath before impact.

Amber opened the door with her usual grace, polished and picture-perfect in a soft cream sweater and jeans that somehow looked expensive. Her expression lit up when she saw you, surprise lifting her eyebrows.

“Gideon’s not home,” she said, stepping back to let you in. “I think he just left.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your stomach turned. “I know. I asked him to pick up my mobile order for me.”

She blinked, head tilting slightly like she couldn’t quite understand why you’d do that. Like she was silently asking why you’d send her son on a coffee errand. You almost laughed. It was such an Amber look. Not judgmental, just… confused by casual domesticity.

“You’re more than welcome to stay,” she offered, leading you into the sitting room.

“Actually, Amber,” you said, voice low and even, “I was hoping I could talk to you and Jesse.”

Her smile faltered. It didn’t disappear, but it dipped, like she suddenly understood this wasn’t a social call. She gave a short nod, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “Sure. He’s in his office right now.”

The hallway felt longer than usual, filled with family photos and framed sermon posters, the scent of polished wood and distant cologne. You wiped your sweaty palms on your shirt, pulse drumming against your ribs. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or just the weight of finally doing this.

Amber opened the door without knocking, her house, her rules, and Jesse looked up from behind his desk, still in a black T-shirt and white jeans, a phone in one hand and reading glasses perched at the tip of his nose.

He nodded when he saw you. “Hey, kid.”

Amber stepped aside, letting you enter. You stood straighter.

She cleared her throat, folding her arms loosely over her stomach. “Y/N would like to have a word with us.”

Jesse set his phone down, looking between the two of you. “What about?”

You took a breath. “Gideon.”

They looked at one another before turning back to you, a quiet exchange of glances that said go ahead. Their postures shifted. They sat there attentive, but guarded. You could feel the air change, the kind of stillness that settles before something sacred or seismic.

You swallowed thickly, the words heavier now that they were balanced on your tongue.

“I want to thank you both,” you started, voice steadier than you expected, “for everything. The home you’ve given me. The open arms and acceptance means so much to me.”

Amber’s face softened a touch, but Jesse’s brows had already started to lift, suspicion creeping in around the edges of his usual bravado.

“You’re not- are you breaking up?” he cut in suddenly, brows nearly at his hairline. “’Cause if you’re breakin’ up, I gotta tell you now, it ain’t gonna be a clean split. Gideon's my son, but I pick y-"

Amber’s spine straightened, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in Jesse’s direction as if to say, let her finish.

You blinked, caught off guard, then laughed, shaking your head. “No. No, the opposite actually.”

You let the smile form slowly.

“You’ve raised a wonderful son,” you continued, eyes flicking from Jesse to Amber. “He’s kind. He’s gentle. He’s respectful. He loves hard, and he shows up. I would like to… ask for his hand?” Your voice faltered at the last second, your nervous laugh filling the pause. “I don’t know if that’s the right phrase to use here.”

Amber’s expression cracked, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Jesse leaned back in his chair, lips parted slightly in surprise, like he wasn’t sure if he should speak yet or just let it sink in.

There was a pause, a short heartbeat in time, the moment hanging heavy between all three of you. Then Amber tilted her head and said softly, “Well… I suppose we’ve never been asked that before.”

You chuckled, nerves breaking just enough to let a breath of honesty in. “I’d hope not. But I would really, really like to marry Gideon. With your blessing, of course.”

The words hung in the air, small but solid, like a stone placed with care at the base of something new.

Amber blinked, the surprise on her face melting into something warm, almost tender. Her eyes glistened slightly. Not quite tears, but something close enough that you felt it catch in your throat. Jesse, on the other hand, leaned forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees. His expression was unreadable, brows furrowed in thought like he was running through every moment he'd ever had with his son, every moment he’d seen the two of you together.

“I don’t take this lightly,” you continued, voice steady, hands clenched together in front of you. “I know marriage is… big. And I know how much he means to you. He means just as much to me.“

Jesse looked at Amber again. Something passed between them. Then he exhaled through his nose, a little crooked smile forming.

“You’re sure?” he asked, but not like he was doubting you. More like he was daring you to flinch.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Amber’s hand found Jesse’s knee. “Then… yes,” she said softly. “Yes. You have our blessing.”

Jesse rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “Damn, I was gonna be the one to say it.”

You laughed, shoulders finally releasing the weight they’d been holding. Amber stood and wrapped her arms around you without hesitation, and for the first time since you’d met her, it felt like there was no space between you.

“You’re family,” she whispered into your hair. “And I’m glad it’s you.”

Behind her, Jesse stood and clapped a hand on your shoulder with a grin. “Just promise me you’ll let me give a speech,” he said. “I have stories."

You grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[moonstruckme]

Secrets in the dark for poly marauders! B, D, and I please!!!

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

Okay, so. When possible, Sirius really campaigns for you all to sleep together, but sometimes it just makes more sense for you to split into pairs, and that's okay too so long as no one's left alone (neither Sirius nor James will stand for that; if you or Remus occaisionally want to be by yourselves, you pair them together and then sneak off into your own beds once they're settled). Ideally, James likes to sleep with his head on someone's chest, Sirius likes to both hold and be held (so someone spooning him and him latched onto at least part of someone else), and Remus likes to splay out on his back. Not all those wants get fulfilled every night, but when you all can make it work they're super happy

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

I feel like the idea to actually go out on a date is usually James'. Remus is happy to just hang out at home, and Sirius can get lulled into that too, but James is too much of a romantic to let anyone forget if it's been more than a month since your last date. Once he gets the ball rolling, though, I think everyone shares in the planning pretty much equally

i = in sickness and in health - when someone falls ill, who’s the carer and who’s the germaphobe? is there anyone that resists being looked after?

James is a mother hen who actually has very little practical knowledge about how to help someone get better, so he's mostly just well-intentioned haha; Sirius pretends to be a germophobe but caves the moment one of you looks even a little sad; Remus is practical and a bit bossy but the one who actually knows what a sick person needs. When it comes to being looked after, Remus is definitely the most resistant—he doesn't want to get anyone sick and dislikes being fussed over—whereas both Sirius and James eat it up. James will pretend he's powering through but really he's the poster boy for the Man Cold and acts like he's putting on a brave face for his inevitable demise, and Sirius has absolutely no shame about playing up how awful he feels for sympathy and attention

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Paparazzi - Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Now Playing: » Paparazzi - Yuta « Lady Gaga 2:16 ────〇── 3:28 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Rockstar!Yuta x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 19,438 Total Word Count: Part 1 of 3 - (Part 2) (Part 3)

Playlist Masterlist NCT Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, unprotected sex, oral (fem recieving), licking(?), scent kink, creampie), seseung-ish reader (at the start), Obsessive behaviour, Toxic Relationship(?), Commitment Issues, Manipulative Behaviour, Yandere

Summary: 🎵 I'm your biggest fan I'll follow you until you love me Papa-paparazzi Baby, there's no other superstar you know that I'll be Your papa-paparazzi 🎵 or it's not everyday a fan gets this kind of attention from her idol

A/N: Oh my goD!! I usually post all the parts in one go, but my friend (who was on call with me for most of the time I was writing this, love you @rubymalfoy101) convinced me to release it, and I thought it was kinda perfect with Yuta's single release (even though I'm late and it actually got re-released (fuck SM)) So here we go! I hope you enjoy 🫶 💚

-

She’d seen him three nights in a row now, two cities in three days, and her bank account was hanging by a thread. Rent could wait. Groceries could wait.

But he couldn’t.

Luxury hotels, tight venues, trailing him like a fly. It wasn’t hard to track his every move, the online forums had his schedule down to the hour. A handful of usernames, blurry backstage leaks, rumours passed in DMs. All roads led to him.

Y/n had always been a bit…obsessive with the things she loved. So many posters in her room, it might as well have been the wallpaper. Multiple DVDs, scratched CDs, merch ranging from shirts to fucking bottle openers. And that was just her teen phase.

Adulthood gave her something more dangerous than freedom. Money. Income. Paychecks. And she spent it the only way she knew how. All in. But this time wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t just a short-term fixation. He wasn’t just another phase she’d get over in a month.

This was different. He was different. Yuta.

He wasn't like the other, clean, polished idols she used to scream over. Yuta Nakamoto was raw. 

He didn’t just perform, he devoured the stage. Hair long and messy, body soaked in sweat. One night, he’d wear leather pants and an open blazer with red eyeliner. The next, a loose tank with a cross swinging over his chest.

The band behind him were skilled, loud. But Yuta was the show. The scream in the chorus, the smirk before the encore, the low, growls he slipped into his songs. His voice wasn’t always feral. Sometimes it was pretty, flowing, angelic. But it was when he was animalistic when Y/n would go wild. 

And the way he looked at the crowd? Like he owned it. Like they owed him something. The way his eyes raked the crowd, Y/n couldn’t wait for his eyes to land on hers.

The first few times were surely her imagination, how his eyes held hers for just a second too long. But now? After three shows? She wasn’t so sure.

He had to recognise her by now.

This was the third show in a row, and she’d been right there every time. Front and centre, bruised from battles to the barricade and elbow jabs, sweaty and breathless. She fought for that spot like her life depended on it, and tonight, it paid off.

Because he looked at her.

Really looked. Eyes cutting through concert lights and screaming fans until they landed on hers. And then he winked. Quick. Unbothered. Like it meant nothing. Like it meant everything.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. The crowd jumped around her, hands in the air, voices chanting his name. But it didn’t matter. For a second, maybe less, the noise dropped away.

It was just him. And her. And that look.

He smirked, never smiled. He didn’t need to. That wink was enough to burn itself into her skull, replaying over and over like a broken record. And she clung to it like proof. 

Proof that she wasn’t just another face in the crowd. 

No, he saw her. He chose her.

The concert had ended over an hour ago, but her heart hadn’t slowed once. It still pounded in her chest. The moment was over, but the feeling still lingered. 

Y/n sat curled in one of the velvet lobby chairs, still wearing her concert clothes, makeup smudged, glitter clinging to her skin. She hadn’t even gone up to her room to change. She couldn’t. Not yet.

Her phone rested in her hands, just sitting on the home screen. She wasn’t scrolling. She wasn’t texting. She just needed something to look at, something to make her seem normal. But really, she was waiting.

Any second now, Nakamoto Yuta was going to walk through those glass doors.

She kept replaying that moment. The moment. That look, that lift of his brow, and the slowness of the wink. Like he knew exactly who she was. It was insane, and yet…it didn’t feel like delusion.

A sharp ding broke through her thoughts, the familiar pop of a Discord notification. One of the servers.

‘He just left the venue.’

She sat up straighter, pulse quickening, eyes flicking toward the entrance. It was really happening. He was on his way. Here. She adjusted her jacket. Smoothed her hair. Tried to breathe. Every second stretched like a thread pulled too tight.

And then…Nothing.

But what did she expect? She got the notification 3 minutes ago, and it’s at least an 8-minute drive. She glanced back down at her phone, pretending to check something, mind still spinning.

That’s when she heard it, the soft scuff of footsteps right in front of her. Not walking past. Not toward the elevators. Stopping. Her eyes snapped up.

Yuta was standing there. Just standing, watching her. His blazer now replaced with a hoodie, a beanie sitting atop his head, his gaze locked onto hers, as if it were him who was waiting for her. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

He gave her that same unreadable look. Like he knew something she didn’t. And then, without a word, he turned and started walking toward the elevators.

Y/n sat frozen, watching him move across the lobby like it was a dream playing out in slow motion. Even out of the spotlight, he carried that same dangerous energy, shoulders relaxed, confident walk, his presence taking over the room.

She could’ve called out. Should’ve, maybe. But the words stuck in her throat, heavy and useless. Her heart was hammering too loudly for her to think straight.

And just before he reached the elevator, just before the doors slid open, he stopped. He turned. Looked at her over his shoulder. Not a smile. Not a wink this time. Just a look. Like he was testing her. Inviting her.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request. It was a command. Y/n stood up like she wasn’t in control of her own body, legs shaky as she crossed the lobby and slipped inside the elevator, to which he followed.

Now it was just the two of them. Alone.

The air was thick. He didn’t look at her right away. Just stood there, calm as ever, pressing the button for the top floor with a single finger.

Her reflection stared back at her in the silver walls of the elevator, wide eyes, flushed cheeks, trying to look like she wasn’t about to explode. He turned to her slowly, gaze sliding over her like he was reading every thought on her face and enjoying every second of it.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, voice low and smooth.

Y/n breath stuttered, finding the words to respond, but he cut in before she could even think.

“You’ve been following me,” he said, outright, now turning to face her completely.

Y/n swallowed hard. “Y-you’ve noticed?”

His lips twitched. “I always do.”

Y/n looked at him like he wasn’t real.

Up close, without the lights or the music or the screaming crowd, Yuta was something else entirely, almost quieter, but not in a timid way, more intimidating. Even out of his stage clothes, he still shone. 

She expected anger. A scowl. Disgust. Something violent.

She was stalking him, after all, following him through cities, booking rooms in his hotels, just to see even a glimce of him. But there was none of that in his eyes.

He was looking at her like she was...interesting. Like she wasn’t just another face, or even a weirdo. Even behind the cocky tilt of his mouth, behind the lazy amusement in his voice, there was something else. A flicker. A spark. Like he wasn’t just acknowledging her, he was considering her.

It knocked the air out of her chest.

She opened her mouth to say something–anything!–but her thoughts were scrambled. Before she could form a single coherent word, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open.

Top floor.

Yuta turned away and stepped out like nothing had happened. Not a glance back. Just that same slow, deliberate walk down the hall, vanishing around the corner like it never happened.

Y/n stood frozen, blinking at the empty space where he'd been. Her brain still lagged behind, trying to catch up, to make it make sense.

It didn’t.

But then the elevator doors started to close, she was pulled back to reality. She stared at her own reflection in the mirrored panel inside.

Wide eyes. Parted lips. A girl who looked like she’d just been seen for the first time, and didn’t know what to do with it. Her hand shaking slightly as she pressed the button to her floor, two stories below his.

The elevator moved. Back to reality. Or something like it.

-

She had barely made it to the airport that morning.

Using some of the last note and coins she found in the bottom of her bag, she just managed to have enough to get her a bus from the hotel to the airport. Y/n was running on no sleep and had no money. 

By the time she stepped off the plane, everything ached. Her back, her head, her pride. She hadn’t eaten properly in a day and a half, her phone was less than 20 percent, and her suitcase had a shit wheel that made it drag behind her like dead weight.

But here she was. In the next city for the next concert. No more cab money, no spare change for an Uber or even a bus. Just a hotel location on Google Maps and sore legs carrying her down unfamiliar sidewalks as the sun dipped below the skyline.

It was over an hour walk to the hotel, and she didn’t care. The cold bit at her skin and cars splashed her with gutter water as they sped past, but she kept walking. Kept her headphones on, playing his setlist, letting his voice fill her head.

At least her night couldn’t get any worse.

Her shoes were soaked from the light rain, her bag straps were digging into her shoulders, the wind was starting to pick up and it felt like the footpath stretched endlessly in front of her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, warning her of it’s low battery. 

She chuckled bitterly, her breath fogged in her face as she shook her head and she carried on. That’s when headlights hit her from behind. Slow. Too slow to be a random car passing by.

Not willing to turn around, Y/n kept walking, feeling more uneasy than before. Until the car pulled up beside her, rolling to a smooth stop. Fear running through her veins, she couldn’t stop her eyes shifting uncomfortably towards the car.

Until the back window rolled down.

Yuta.

Sitting in the backseat like royalty, rain had not touched him. The smug look on his face and eyes gleaming under the glow of the streetlights. 

“Hotel’s a bit far to be walking to, ain’t it?”

Her heart stuttered and she blinked quickly, trying to get a hold of herself. She didn’t want to admit to her idol that she was too broke with following him around, that she had to walk to the hotel. That’s just embarrassing.

“I-I wasn’t able to catch a bus.” she said, breathlessly. 

Yuta looked down the street for a second before looking back at her. He wasn’t smirking like before, he was thinking. 

“Well,” he broke the momentary silence. “Good thing we’re going to the same place then.”

She froze incomplete shock. Was he…was this…huh?

He rolled his eyes. “Get in.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion. She barely even registered when she started moving, her legs working on their own. But before she could reach the door, it opened from the inside. 

And he stepped out. Without hesitation and no care for the rain, standing in front of her, he looked down at her, holding her gaze intensely. Eyes still on her as he reached for her bag.

“I’ve got it.” he said, already lifting it out of her hands. 

As he reached down for her bags, he was so close, she could smell him. Fuck, he smelt divine. She could have swarn he stood close to her for longer, inhaling her himself, but it was probably just he delusional self slowing down time. 

Y/n let out a strangled noise, something between a protest and a thank you, but he was already walking back to the car. Opening the boot, he lifted her suitcase into the back, before coming back around to the side. 

Resting his arm up, above the open door, he looked towards her, waiting for her to get in. She just about tripped over herself getting in. 

Setting herself down in the seat, she watched as Yuta shut the door behind him. The warmth hit her immediately as she laid back in her seat. The car smelled of leather and something expensive. The driver didn’t speak, just looking ahead and driving off. 

She sat stiffly, back against the chair, hands fiddling in her lap. She could feel Yuta beside her, mere inches from her, looking at her. 

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at her. His gaze so intense.

“You look cold,” he said finally.

She swallowed. “I-I was outside, walking for a while..” Y/n could barely even look in his direction.

“I saw.”

…

Turning her gaze slow to look at him, Y/n’s lips were slightly parted in disbelief. How long was he watching her walk for before he decided to pull over?

He didn’t say anything after that, but his eyes stayed on her. Like really looking at her. Like he was taking in every detail of her. Her drizzled hair, her flushed face, she sat so still, still in shock.

She couldn’t read him, considering he had no clear expression on his face didn’t help. But the way his eyes never left her face had her wanting to scream. 

Y/n forced herself to speak. “I didn’t think I would make it tonight.”

“But you did.” He smirked.

She breathed out a laugh, semi embarrassed. “Barely. I had to beg my parents for some money, skipped meals this week..”

He arched his brow. “Just for a show?”

There was no judgement in his voice. Just…curiousity. Dare she say, he look impressed almost.

“Just to see you..” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them. 

And there is was again, the twitch of his mouth, a smirk. “And was is worth it?” he asked curiously, tilting his head.

She nodded without hesitation. “It always is.”

All the confidence she had while saying that sentence was now gone. Looking back down at her lap, she couldn’t hold his gaze. Yet, he still had not looked away. 

Pulling up to the hotel entrance, Y/n’s nerves were still high, her hands gripping her sleeves tight. 

Yuta spoke up. “You got a room here?”

She glanced at him, but only briefly, before she got shy again. “Yes.”

“Good.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Means I don’t have to let you go just yet.”

Y/n couldn’t even speak. 

She was frozen but everything inside her was racing. Her heart, her thoughts. 

Then Yuta opened the door, and stepped out, as casual as ever. But then he turned back to her, holding the door open still.

Waiting.

But she was still frozen.

He was waiting for her. 

The man she had been following across cities. The man who she had posters of up on her wall. The man who sang the songs that were on her playlists. 

And he was waiting for her. 

He wanted her to follow him. 

He wanted her to talk to him. 

He wanted to be around her. 

She clenched her hands from her sleeves and took a deep breath. She could barely tell if any of this was real or it was her hunger brain tricking her. But there he was. 

When she finally looked up, his eyes locked onto her, and he smiled. 

Holy fuck, he smiled. 

It wasn’t his smirk, or cocky smug. He fucking smiled. 

If she wasn’t already warm from the car ride, she was burning now. 

Wordlessly, she stepped out of the car, knees just about giving out on her. Yuta didn’t speak, just closed the door and grabbed their bags. 

Slinging his over his shoulder, he pulled hers along with him.

“I can take that now..” she said softly, reaching out.

But Yuta didn’t even look at her. “You walked halfway here in the rain for me,” he said, “least I can do.”

Just like that, she fell silent. She followed him through the revolving doors, the hotel lobby soaked in golden light and quiet music.

It was a luxury hotel. The kind where everything smelled like money and riches. Staff straightened up a little when they saw guest arrive. 

Yuta headed straight to the front desk, bag still slung over one shoulder. Y/n lingered a few paces behind him, patting her shirt down, still damp and trembling slightly.

He gave his name, just like that. No security hovering nearby. Just Yuta, in his black jacket and undone hair.

She expected at least some effort to hide his identity and where he was staying. But he didn’t lower his voice, didn’t glance at her once like he was worried about her seeing or hearing too much.

It should’ve been a security risk. She was a fan after all, that was well established. For fucks sake! She followed him here!

But clearly, he didn’t care.

And she–God, she wasn’t about to complain.

When he took his room key, the front desk glanced toward her as if waiting for something, but Yuta didn’t offer context. He simply turned, handed off her bag, and walked toward the elevators like he was done playing host.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he disappeared around the corner.

Then the front desk looked back at her, smiling politely. “Name?”

She blinked. “Y/n. L/n.”

She gave her ID with trembling fingers, still stunned that she’d just witnessed–more than witnessed him, so casual, so exposed. Like she wasn’t a stranger. 

Key card now in hand, she stepped back, glancing once toward the elevators.

And then she froze.

Yuta was there–still there!–leaning casually against the wall beside the elevator.

Jacket unzipped, hands in pocket, bag next to his feet. He looked like an absolute sin.

He didn’t speak when their eyes met.

Just smiled. Slow. Like he’d been waiting for her.

He was always waiting for her.

Y/n’s breath caught. She couldn’t move for a second, her body refusing to believe this wasn’t another dream bleeding into her real life. It was a wonder how she was still functioning. 

Then, without looking away, Yuta reached out and pressed the elevator button.

Ding.

The doors slid open.

And still, he said nothing.

He just stepped inside and held the door with one hand, gaze never leaving hers. Waiting again.

As if it was a choice to take another elevator or walk away. Her choice.

Even though they both knew it wasn’t.

She stepped into the elevator, her body moving before her brain could catch up, and drifted to the far wall, away from him. Yuta stepped in beside her, letting go of the doors, letting them slid shut, then reached out and pressed a button. 

Was he really patient with her, or did he just enjoy her hesitation?

Yuta turned to face her. Y/n, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch.

She could feel her pulse in her throat.

“So…Y/n, is it?” he spoke, voice low and almost amused.

Her head turned toward him, caught off guard by how easily her name rolled off his tongue. She nodded, quick and nervous, then looked away again. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long, otherwise she would faint.

Yuta leaned slightly against the mirrored wall, head tilted, eyes still fixed on her like usual. He loved to look. 

“You follow people often?” he asked, one brow lifted.

It wasn’t accusatory. It was playful. Curious. 

Y/n swallowed hard, a shaky laugh slipping out before she could stop it.

“I’m your biggest fan,” she said. It came out too fast, breathless. “I-I’ve just never really done something like this before. I mean-not like this…”

She trailed off, flushing.

Yuta didn’t blink. His smirk deepened just slightly.

“Not like this?” he echoed. Then he leaned in just a little, barely enough to invade her space, but enough to make her nerves light up like static.

“Well,” he murmured. “I should be so lucky.”

Y/n looked up at him. He wasn’t smirking anymore, not really. There was something softer on his face now. A small, private smile that didn’t belong to the stage version of him. 

Something quieter. More human, dare she say.

And God, she could’ve stared at him for hours. The curve of his mouth, his soft hair, the dark eyes that held her in place. She was drowning in the sight of him, in how close he was, how real.

She didn’t even notice the elevator coming to a stop until he glanced toward the doors and said, “Your floor.”

Her eyes flicked to the glowing number above the doors, and sure enough, it was hers.

She blinked.

But…she hadn’t pressed anything.

Her stomach fluttered.

Yuta had.

Which meant he’d been paying attention when she was checking in. Not just to her name. To her room. To everything.

Still dazed, she stepped out, the wheels of her suitcase bumping slightly behind her as if to remind her that this was in fact real. That she’d just shared yet another elevator ride with Nakamoto Yuta, and he’d known exactly where to let her off.

She turned to look back at him, needing something more from him, another word, a glance, anything.

And she got it.

“See you tomorrow,” he said so casually, as if they did this every night. 

Then the elevator doors slid shut.

And she was left alone in the hallway, heartbeat hammering, wondering how the hell she was going to sleep tonight.

The hallway was quiet as she made her way to her room. The sound of her suitcase wheels being the only thing helping her grasp reality. 

Reaching her door, she slotted her keycard in. Click. She opened the door. Shut.

And…silence.

Y/n walked to the centre of the room and just stood there. 

She just…she…what?

She’d gotten into the car with Yuta. Talked to him. Ridden the elevator with him–twice now! 

And he knew. God! He knew.

He knew she was following him. He knew that she wasn’t just an average fan going to see his show. No. She’d been to the last three concert, in a row, staying at the same hotels. 

She was a real life stalker! 

But instead of shutting her down, calling security, or even simply asking her to fuck off…he smiled. He invited her in the car, he checked in with her, he rode the elevator with her.

It wasn’t a matter of him not caring. 

It was as if he wanted her keep going. 

Encouraging her. Antagonising her. Laying out pieces for her to follow.

And she did, without hesitation. 

Dropping her bag, she sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands. 

“I didn’t even hesitate, the fucks wrong with me?” she muttered to herself.

Essentially, a stranger pulled up beside her in a car and told her to get in the car. And she fucking gets in. She just about wrote her fucking end. Became the next victim in a true crime podcast. 

Stranger danger? Who’s she?

But he wasn’t really a stranger. It was him. Yuta. Her obsession. 

Of course, she folded the second he looked at her. The second he looked at her like she mattered. 

Even now, after the adrenaline had worn off, she wasn’t scared. Sure, she was still freaking out, but it wasn’t fear.

It was something worse.

It was want. 

Wanting to see what happens next. Wanting to know how far he’ll pull her. 

Wanting more.

-

The morning hit her like a truck. 

Her body was aching all over, likely from lugging a bag halfway to the hotel in the rain and she felt as if she had been punched in the gut, ripped a hole inside of her, and squeezed her stomach. The tight and nauseous feeling she had in her stomach was so uncomfortable. 

It was too fucking early to be dealing with this shit. 

Y/n didn’t know how long she could handle thing. Maybe she could find a supermarket around lunch and just buy a nutbar or something. 

She rolled over onto her back, squinting at the light streaming through the sheer hotel curtains. Throat dry, eyes heavy, she did not want to exist at the moment. Maybe if she just laid still for a few more hours, the feeling in her chest would go away, and she wouldn’t feel like she was about to die.

Grabbing her phone from beside her bed, she immediately checked her notifications for Yuta updates. Because what better way to start the day.

The first thing she noticed was his new Instagram story, clicking on it only made her tummy growl louder. A simple breakfast, egg on rice and a little bowl of soup. It was like a knife to the gut, fuck she was starving. 

Then, three knocks at the door.

She shot up, her hair a mess, heart about to give out. What the fuck?

“Room service,” a voice called.

Room service? For fucking who?

She barely managed to pull herself up off the bed and shuffle to the door, looking through the peephole. Sure enough, a hotel staff member stood there with a covered tray and a little cart.

Y/n opened the door, “Sorry, I-I didn’t order anything.”

Like hell, she ordered anything. She can barely afford to breathe at this point. 

The staff didn’t even blind. “It’s already been covered.”

Her brain was short-circuiting. “What? By who?”

He just gave a bland customer service smile as he rolled the cart into her room. “Enjoy.” He said, before turning and walking back down the hall, before she could ask any more questions. 

Once again, she found herself standing frozen and blinking. 

Then she looked down at the tray and lifted the cover. She didn’t even like eggs that much. But seeing its glossy yolk, fried and served over rice with a little bowl of soup, just like Yuta’s Instagram story. 

Her stomach dropped and grumbled. 

Placing the tray on the little table, she sat down in front of it and let the warm steam hit her face. 

Fuck, she was hungry.

So, she ate. 

She devoured every last bite like a starved cat, like this was all a dream she’d wake up from any second. But the food was real. The cutlery clinked against the ceramic. The hollowness in her gut softened.

And as she licked the last of the yolk off her spoon, the same thoughts still wrapped around her mind.

He thought about her. 

He knows where she is.

And he’s feeding her. 

The tray sat empty now, pushed to the edge of the table. Y/n wiped her mouth with a napkin and stared int the silver dome cover at her warped face, questioning everything that had just occurred, praying it would give her the answers.

It didn’t.

Everything about this morning felt surreal. The warmth in her stomach, the ache in her limbs, the fact that she was still in his hotel. That she was still wrapped up in him.

She ran a hand through her hair and stood, pacing the room like it would help clear the fog in her head.

He sent her food.

It’s not even that he knew her room, but it was the fact that he remembered. Remembered the fact that she would have to skip meals to go to his concert. And not once had he seemed surprised. Or unsettled. He was calm. Controlled. Smiling like a man watching something he’d already planned play out in real time.

The thought sent a shiver straight down her spine.

Y/n pulled open the curtains, letting in the grey, overcast light of the city. It was early still, too early to head to the venue. The adrenaline hadn’t come back yet, but the anticipation was starting to thrum again in her.

Tonight. Another concert. Another show. She didn’t know how she was going to survive standing in front of that stage again, knowing what she now knew. That he saw her. Really saw her. That he didn’t just remember her face, he talked to her, he watched her. He fed her.

And now she had to look him in the eye from the crowd and pretend she wasn’t completely unravelling.

She grabbed her phone, checked the time, and checked the Discord fan server out of habit. A few people were already posting venue updates and sightings, crew moving equipment, and someone claiming they saw Yuta in a hoodie getting out of a black van. The usual excitement.

She didn’t say anything. She just read.

No one knew what had happened last night.

No one knew she was already marked, already pulled a little deeper in.

She took a quick shower, forcing herself to wake up, to feel normal for five seconds. It didn’t work. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his smile. Heard the lazy rasp of his voice.

See you tomorrow.

She didn’t leave her room. Not yet. There was too much to do.

The moment she rolled the breakfast tray back to the hallway, Y/n turned to her suitcase. Clothes spilled out onto the bed, her favourite tops, her lucky accessories, her scandalous bottoms, outfits she’d imagined herself wearing in front of him just like this. 

Tonight mattered.

She picked out the little black cami first, thin straps, soft fabric, the neckline low enough to make her feel confident but not desperate. It fit her like a second skin. Then came the mini skirt, pleated, just long enough to pass for decent at the right angle. 

She laid it flat on the bed beside the stockings, sheer and lacy, already clipped to some matching suspenders. Platform boots, scuffed but loyal, gave her the extra inches to see better.

He’ll notice this. 

He had to.

Then came her makeup, scattered across the bathroom counter. She leaned in close to the mirror, planning out what to do. Dark, bold eyeshadow, lips chosen to match. Deep, complimentary. Every detail chosen with one goal set in mind. Make him look again. 

She stood in front of the mirror, fingers tangled in her hair, trying to decide. Clean? Undone? Something about looking polished felt like the safer option. But not him. Not Yuta. He wasn’t neat.

He was chaos wrapped in leather and chains.

So, she left it loose. Let it fall the way it wanted to, a little messy, a little wild. Something about it felt more intriguing. More like something he’d want to touch.

Untamed. Just like him.

Grabbing her perfume from her bag, she sprayed herself all over. It was just a cheap perfume, but did she smell divine in it. 

The hours passed like this. Quiet. Precise. Obsessive.

And then she checked the time.

Four hours before the concert even started.

Perfect.

It was early enough to get to the front of the queue. To be there before the masses arrived. To wait outside and be the first to the barricade.

She took a breath, grabbed her phone with her ticket, and looked at herself one last time in the mirror.

The outfit, the makeup, the hair, every detail had been for him. So why not show it off a little?

She turned slightly, moving herself to catch the best lighting from the window and turned the camera to the mirror. Snap. Another. One with her camera covering her face. One with the camera to the side, her lips slightly parted and head tilted. The one last selfie for good measure.

She picked her favourite and typed out a caption.

“Front row for my man - Yuta Tour 2025 Part 4”

Post.

This was who he’d see tonight.

Not a fan.

Not just another face.

His girl.

-

The walk to the stadium was longer than she thought. Her boots hit the pavement with a steady rhythm, and every now and then, she felt an ache in her heel, but thankfully, the shoes were worn in. If they hadn’t been, she’d be dying by now.

The sun was still high, heat clinging to her skin, but she didn’t stop. She kept her eyes ahead, hand gripping her bag strap, and occasionally adjusting her skirt when the wind picked up.

By the time she turned the final corner and saw the stadium come into view, her breath hitched, not from the walk, but from the sight of it. The place where he would be tonight.

To her surprise, only a couple other people stood in line outside the gates, sitting on blankets, sipping drinks from plastic bottles. She exhaled a sigh of relief and stepped into line behind them.

It would be hours before the doors opened. But that was fine.

She was used to the wait.

She settled in on the concrete, pulling her bag over her lap like a makeshift cushion. The overcast sun baked her back, and the ground hard beneath her, but she barely noticed. Her eyes drifted up to the venue, looking through the windows, looking at every possible exit or entry, just in case she caught a glimpse of him. Just in case.

The two girls ahead of her were chatting softly, talking about concert stories and whatever else. Y/n half-listened, smiling to herself. She could guess the setlist by heart now, every song, every guitar riff. But what she couldn’t predict was him. 

What he’d say. What he’d do. That was the part that kept her chasing.

She pulled out her phone, checking the time. Three hours to go.

With hours to kill, she opened Instagram, mostly out of boredom.

Notifications popped up, a few likes, some comments, compliments, emojis, the usual. She refreshed the page every now and then before heading back to her explore page.

That’s when she saw it.

A name.

His name.

Liked by @yuu_taa_1026.

Her lungs stopped working. She blinked. Stared. And before she could even screenshot it, the like vanished.

Gone.

Her feed looked normal again, no trace of him ever being there. No proof. No memory, except hers.

She sat frozen, phone clenched in her hand, heart hammering. Her mind raced. Had he really looked her up? Found her account? Was he watching her, just like she was watching him?

Her stomach flipped.

Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he hadn’t meant to like it. Maybe it never even happened and she was spiralling. Maybe she made up the whole thing. But no, she saw it. That flash of his name. The unmistakable icon. 

She stared at the screen, her post sitting in front of her.

If he’d seen it, what did he think?

A slow smile crept over her face, pulling the edges of her lips.

Whether it was real or not didn’t even matter now.

She knew what she saw.

-

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower, and the line behind her for VIP had built up. Many of them in pairs or groups, wearing their very best. But Y/n didn’t pay much mind to them. 

She kept checking her phone, even though the notification was long gone. No matter how much she refreshed her page, it was like it never happened.

But it did.

His name flashing on her screen wasn’t something she’d easily forget. It happened. It meant something. Even if he didn’t mean to like her post, he looked for her, and saw her. 

She looked down at herself, smoothing her skirt with her palms, then rechecking her hair with the reflection of her phone. The wind had messed it up a little, but it only added to the slightly untamed look she’d been going for.

The venue doors finally opened. A quiet buzz shifted into chaos. Security herded everyone through, one by one, checking bags and scanning tickets. Y/n stood on her toes, ready to enter.

When it was her turn, the security guard barely glanced at her bag before his eyes flicked up to her face.

“You Y/n?” he asked, squinting like he already knew the answer.

She blinked. “Uh…yeah?”

He nodded once, then leaned behind him toward another staff member, saying something too low for her to catch. The second person handed over a small VIP kit, a tote bag with the tour logo. But instead of pulling one from the stack in front of them like they had for everyone else, they reached behind the table, grabbing something from under it.

Y/n’s brows furrowed slightly as they passed it to her.

“Enjoy the show,” the first guard said, already waving through the next person.

She stared down at the kit in her hands, walking slowly toward the second holding line just before the venue doors. People around her were already standing at the doors, looking through their own VIP bags, lanyards with laminated passes, signed posters, glossy double-sided keychains.

Y/n moved to stand behind them.

The same stuff was inside. Mostly.

But tucked at the bottom was a small paper bag. Not branded. Just a simple brown pouch, folded over at the top. 

Her stomach flipped.

No way.

She opened it.

A fucking brownie.

Rich, thick, and obviously not store-bought. It smelled faintly of espresso and dark chocolate. Moist. Still slightly warm.

She stared at it, dumbfounded.

This motherfucker was feeding her. Again.

Her lips curled into a disbelieving smile, eyes flicking over the paper bag again as if it might reveal some hidden note, some little message.

But it didn’t have to.

It was a message all by itself.

Y/n pulled it from the bag, heart hammering again. The line was quiet for now, just murmurs and rustling plastic. But inside, she was going crazy. 

She took the first bite, and it was like heaven on her tongue. Wherever he got this from, it was bloody amazing.

Y/n glanced around the room, and as she suspected, no one else had one. It was special just for her. 

Smiling down at her brownie, if it wasn’t the sugar fueling her giddiness, it was how he was making her feel. She was so much more than just a fan, that’s for sure. She swore she could taste his smugness in the brownie. 

The doors opened not long after. The fans filed through the entrance, walking quickly enough to get to the barricade, but not too fast where they’d be told off by security. Tucking her half-eaten brownie away, Y/n made her way right up to the centre of the front. 

She slid her way up, both hands gripping the metal barricade, looking up at the stage. It was empty at the moment, but he’ll be there.

And he’ll see her. 

The venue filled slowly at first, but then all at once, like a broken dam. General admission flooded in behind her, noise rising, and the space was tight. 

Security shouted, left and right, telling people not to push. The lights dimmed just a little, enough to signal that things were starting, even if nothing had yet.

People squeezed in on either side of her, the space around her shrinking by the second until she was 

pressed tight against the barricade. Shoulders hit hers. An elbow nudged her back. But she didn’t care. Not even a little.

She was exactly where she wanted to be.

She leaned forward, arms draped over the cool metal, the anticipation rising. From here, she could see the setlist taped to the stage floor.

Any second now, Yuta would step onto that stage, and he’d see her.

She didn’t know what he’d do this time. If he’d look. If he’d wink. If he’d smile.

But whatever it was…

She’d be right there.

Then the lights cut out all at once. And the room erupted in cheers.

Screams burst through the crowd, bodies pushed forward, arms flew up in excitement. Y/n gripped the barricade tight, her heart hammering loud enough to drown out everything else.

A single spotlight snapped on. The bass dropped. Drums boom to life, you could feel it in your chest. Guitar followed. Then smoke, curling out over the stage

And then…He stepped out.

Yuta.

Black boots. Torn jeans. His shirt sleeveless and low. He walked out, hair still damp, laying lazy over his face. A mic in one hand. Rings flashing in the spot light.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stopped centre stage and looked out over the crowd with his hands out.

And then he smiled.

Not the smirk. Not the grin he threw into the crowd when he was feeling cocky. This one was slow.

Y/n’s stomach flipped. Her eyes were locked on him.

He raised the mic to his lips.

“You ready?!” he shouted. 

The crowd lost it.

The energy in the venue was live. People jumped, screamed, and sang so loud the ground shook. The bass boomed hard, the guitars were loud, and Yuta. He was everything.

He moved like he owned the stage. Every step, every lyric, every glance sent the crowd into a frenzy. Y/n was right there with them.

Sweaty, breathless, shouting the words until her voice cracked. She gripped the barricade and yelled the lyrics with everyone else.

The lights flashed across the crowd. Y/n kept her eyes on the stage, heart racing.

This was why she came.

The concert raged on, loud, electric, alive. Every song was a rush of adrenaline, the crowd around her pushing and swaying, but Y/n didn’t care. Her eyes were locked on him. On Yuta.

And then it happened.

Mid-song, through flashing lights and smoke, his eyes swept across the crowd, and landed on her.

She noticed it instantly.

The flicker of recognition. That tiny pause in his movement. His lips twitched, but not into a smile or smirk. But he saw her. Again.

And he didn’t look away.

Not immediately, at least.

He dragged his gaze back to her every chance he got. Between lyrics, between steps. Even when he turned his back to the crowd, she caught the angle of his eyes in the stage screen, the looking over his shoulder.

Yuta was watching her.

Not the sea of fans screaming his name. Her.

And Y/n? She couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. The noise faded around her for a second, her grip on the barricade tightening.

He saw her. Again.

He kept looking at her.

-

When the intermission came, the lights dimmed and the crowd moved on from screaming to loud chatter. Y/n barely noticed how sweaty or breathless she was, she was still reeling from the way Yuta kept looking at her like no one else existed.

Security started walking past the front row, handing out little bottles of water to those against the barricade to hand back. Y/n took one with a dazed thank you, twisting open the cap with shaking fingers.

But then one of the security guards stopped right in front of her. 

He leaned in close so she could hear over the music still playing through the speakers. “Hey. You’re Y/n, right?”

Her heart nearly stopped. “Uh…yeah?”

He nodded. “Cool. Just hang back after the show ends, alright?”

That was it. He didn’t wait for her response, just moved on like he hadn’t dropped a bomb on her.

Y/n stared after him, water forgotten in her hand. Her brain scrambled to keep up. Hang back? After the show? What does that even mean?

She bit her lip to keep from grinning like a maniac.

Her heart was practically bouncing as the lights shifted again and the second half of the concert started.

She wasn’t even sure if her legs would hold her up for the rest of the night.

But she knew one thing for sure. She wasn’t going anywhere.

-

As the concert came to a close, Yuta shouted his final “Thank you!” into the mic before vanishing offstage. The crowd roared around her, but Y/n stood frozen, her pulse louder than the cheers.

Was it really him who’d asked her to stay behind?

It had to be. Right?

Unless this was actually to give her a restraining order. Maybe this was how it ended. A cease and desist with her name on it, and security politely escorting her out of the venue, and away from him, for good.

Her stomach flipped with nerves and anticipation. She was buzzing with possibilities, spiralling between worst-case scenarios and something dangerously close to hope.

The crowd thinned out slowly, bodies moving toward exits, their voices still echoing with leftover adrenaline. It felt like hours before the room finally cleared out, but it was probably closer to thirty minutes.

That’s when one of the security guards returned, the same one from earlier.

He stopped in front of her, face unreadable. “Come with me,” he said, already moving to open the barricade in front of her.

Y/n swallowed hard and slipped through the opening he made. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed to keep pace behind him, trying not to visibly shake.

Down the side of the venue, past heavy black curtains and dimly lit hallways, until…

Backstage.

Her breath caught.

Holy shit.

The security guard stopped in front of a door, gave it a quick knock, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.

Inside, the room was warm with low light, a soft amber glow casting shadows across the walls. A few half-empty water bottles and discarded setlists littered a nearby table. Jackets hung over chairs, instruments rested on stands. Evidence of the rest of the band was everywhere, but they were gone now.

Only Yuta remained.

He was slouched comfortably on a couch, hair still damp from the show, a towel draped around his neck. He looked up at her like he’d been expecting this moment all night. Like none of this surprised him.

“Thanks,” he said to the guard without looking away from her.

The man gave a nod and stepped out, leaving just the two of them in the room.

Yuta's gaze stayed locked on her. “Come in,” he said, his voice low and calm. “Close the door.”

She did, slowly, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. Her heart thundered in her chest, echoing in her ears. The lock clicked into place behind her.

She turned to face him, throat dry, pulse wild.

This was really happening.

Yuta leaned back slightly, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Enjoy the breakfast?”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “S-so that was you?” she blurted, heat rushing to her face. “I thought…I wasn’t even sure it really happened.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “You said you had to skip meals..and we can’t have that, now...”

Y/n let out a nervous breath, still half in disbelief. “And…the brownie in the VIP bag?” she asked, tilting her head.

Yuta gave a quiet laugh, eyes glinting. “Guilty.”

Her mouth dropped open in a stunned smile. “Are you serious?”

He just looked at her with that same calmness. “Thought you might need a little extra. And I figured you’d know it was from me.”

She shook her head, still reeling. “That’s insane.”

“Probably,” he said, grinning now.

She stared, completely thrown, mind racing just to keep up. But before she could fumble out another response, he tilted his head and asked, “You coming to the next show?”

Y/n’s stomach twisted. She dropped her gaze for a second, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I…I can’t. I’m out of money.”

Silence.

Then he stood up.

Slow and casual.

She froze as he crossed the short distance between them, heart pounding, breath caught in her throat. He stopped right in front of her, close. Closer than anyone should stand unless they were more than just strangers.

Yuta reached out, his hand gentle as he pushed a piece of hair from her face. His touch lingered just a second too long, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“I’ll make sure you’re there,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about the money.”

Her breath hitched.

He didn’t just say that. But he did.

“B-but…my flight home is tomorrow afternoon…” Y/n said, her voice barely steady as she looked up at Yuta, completely star-struck.

He didn’t flinch. “I’ll handle that...” he said easily, like rearranging her entire life was no big deal. “But while you’re in this city, you might as well come one more night.”

She blinked, still trying to process. “But I have to check out of my room at ten tomorrow morning…”

Yuta gave the smallest smirk, stepping dangerously closer. “I’ll take care of that too.”

She stared up at him, completely at a loss. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Well,” he said, voice soft with a smile, “I’ve gotta have my biggest fan at my show.”

Y/n’s brain short-circuited. The obvious answer was to go home, act normal, and pretend any of this made sense. But she wasn’t normal. Not when it came to him. She’d already chased him through three cities and four concerts. One more couldn’t make her any crazier than she already was. And anyway…who was she to deny him?

She looked up at him, eyes wide, struggling to keep her focus, but his face, God, his face, was pulling her in. Deep. Every sharp line, every shadow, every inch of him was carved into her memory, and now he was standing so close she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

All she could do was nod.

The smirk that curved up his lips wasn’t the usual cocky kind. It was quieter than that. Almost unreadable. Undetectable. But there was something in it that made her chest tighten. Something dark. Possessive, maybe. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and liked it.

That’s when a chill ran up her spine. Something…intimidating. But it wasn’t fear. No, it couldn’t be…it couldn’t be.

But she wasn’t going anywhere. That, she was sure of. 

“You look good..” He said, nodding his head as he looked down at her. “You put this on for me?”

Y/n couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t even tell if she nodded, completely frozen in the moment. 

Yuta leaned in closer, enough for her to feel his breath on her. Her heart stopped.

He inhaled slowly, breathing her in before his eyes flickered down before locking back on hers.

“Is that perfume?” he asked, his voice low.

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. He noticed.

“Mhmm..” she hummed, barely nodding, trying to find more words but they all got stuck in her throat.

Then softly, but firm, he said…”Don’t wear perfume.”

Her stomach dropped, like a record scratch. “W-what?” she blinked. Did he not like it? Did she put too much on?

He looked at her again, gaze heavier this time. “Don’t wear perfume.” he repeated. “I want to know how you really smell.”

Did–Did he really just say that?

The room felt smaller now. Warmer. 

Yuta looked just behind her at the clock on the wall. “Well,” he said, moving back from her slightly, “better let you get back to the hotel…”

Y/n blinked, hardly registering the words he was saying, as she was still in awe.

“I’ll have someone take you back,” he said, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “Wait here a second.”

All she could do was nod, again, because her mouth wouldn’t work and her legs felt like jelly. She watched him type something quickly before looking back up at her.

“They should be out front in five.” 

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, thank you maybe, but she was still too starstruck. He called her his biggest fan. He said he’d shout her a concert. He wanted to smell her. 

And now he was having someone drive her back to the hotel. 

What the fuck was going on?

He leaned forward, pressing up close as he reached for the doorknob behind her. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster. 

“You’ll be at the next show.” He said. It was clearly not up for debate. It was a demand. A promise.

Opening the door to the hallway, Y/n turned away from Yuta, making her way out, where there was a staff member waiting to escort her. Looking back at Yuta one last time, he winked before closing the door.

Y/n followed the staff member, completely numb. The echos of his voice still bouncing in her head. 

Walking through the backstage halls felt so surreal now. The people moving around, fixing and resetting parts of the stage and other shit she didn’t know. She was still caught up in the moment. 

By the time she was led outside, there was already a black SUV waiting for her. The staff member opened the door for her, to which she thanked them before getting in. As the door shut, the driver was already on their way. 

Everything felt like a dream.

The hotel finally came into view, and before she could process anything else, the car was slowing to a stop. The driver got out, opened the door for her, and offered a quick “have a good night,” before getting back into the vehicle and driving off.

She stood outside the hotel for a few seconds longer than necessary, just staring. He said he’d take care of it. And he did. He was taking care of her.

Y/n made her way inside, through the quiet lobby and up to her floor, the events of the night running in circles through her mind. His voice. His smile. That look on his face when he touched her.

She reached her room, let herself in, and finally sat down on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, trying to breathe normally again. 

Going back to life as normal was out of the question. 

Not after tonight.

-

Waking up was a different story. 

Her alarm went off at 9 a.m., far too happy for how wrecked she felt. She barely managed to turn it off before groaning into the pillow, brain foggy and limbs stiff. It took a full minute for the reason behind the alarm to click. Checkout. Right. She had to be out of the room before she got hit with a late fee.

“Fuck me.”

Pulling herself upright, Y/n stumbled around the room, grabbing clothes from the floor, chargers from the wall, cramming everything into her bag in a clumsy rush. Her head still buzzed with everything that had happened last night. She was barely keeping it together, until her eyes landed on something resting quietly on the bedside table.

The perfume bottle.

The one she’d specifically chosen for the concert. The one she sprayed right before leaving the hotel, hoping he'd notice.

She froze, reaching for it slowly. The moment her fingers closed around the bottle, the memory slammed back into her like a wave.

“Don’t wear perfume.” he repeated. “I want to know how you really smell.”

Her breath hitched. Heat crept over her cheeks, down her neck, flushing through her body like fire. She gripped the bottle tighter, unsure whether to laugh or scream into the mattress. 

How was she supposed to go back to normal after that?

She held the perfume bottle for a secon longer, then lets out a scoff.

“Sort it out,” she muttered under her breath. 

Last night felt unreal now, like some fever dream put together from lights, noise, and the sound of his voice far too close to her ear. He’d said he’d take care of it. That she’d be at the next concert. That he’d sort her flight, her hotel, everything.

But now, in the morning light with hotel air around her, reality crept back in like a draft through a shitty door. He wasn’t actually going to do anything. Why would he? That kind of thing didn’t happen to people like her. Not really.

Still…she felt the ghost of his hand push her hair from her face, His stare which held her with a weight of 20 trucks. 

No–she couldn’t afford to start hoping. 

Grabbing the last of her things, she zipped up her bag and gave the room one final glance. It looked the same way she’d found it. Empty, temporary. Exactly how she felt now, standing in the doorway. 

She exhaled, shook herself free of the thought, and stepped out. 

Time to check out. Time to move on. 

Or at least…pretend to.

Check-out was uneventful. The front desk smiled, handed her papers, and told her to have a good day. That was it. No messages. No surprises.

Y/n adjusted the strap of her bag and headed for the doors, heart sinking a little more with each step. Of course he was just being nice. Flirty. Maybe bored. Last night didn’t mean anything, just another blurry memory for a girl who should’ve known better.

But then, just as she passed the lobby lounge, a man in all black stepped into her path. 

“Y/n?” he asked, low.

She blinked. “…Yes?”

“Come with me.”

Her brain went blank. For half a second, she thought panic. Trouble. Restraining order. This was it. But the man didn’t look mad. 

She followed him without a word, nerves crackling in her stomach. They didn’t go out to the car park. Instead, he led her back to the elevator and pressed the button for one of the top floors.

Y/n’s pulse was thudding by the time the doors opened.

He stepped aside, motioning her out. “This way.”

And the second she stepped into the room, she knew.

Yuta’s jacket was slung over the back of the chair. A half-empty bottles of water on the nightstand. A pair of sunglasses abandoned by the window. Everything about the room screamed him. Loud, messy, Yuta.

What must have been the manager gave her a brief nod and said, “He’s at rehearsal right now, there’s a key card on the table. Someone will be back to take you to the concert around 5,” before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Y/n stood frozen in place.

She was in Yuta’s room.

Her hands were shaking. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to do.

So she stood frozen.

Because clearly, this wasn’t over.

Y/n shifted from foot to foot, still standing in the middle of Yuta’s hotel room like she was intruding on something.

She checked the time on her phone.

9:57 AM.

Seriously? It wasn’t even 10 yet. All of this, checking out, getting stopped, walking into his room, it had barely taken twenty minutes. Her head was spinning.

“…Well,” she muttered under her breath.

She pulled up her contacts and tapped on Jaemin before she could overthink it. He picked up after a couple rings.

“Hey! You all good? I was just about to head out to grab coffee before coming to the airport–”

“Yeah–nah,” she cut in quickly. “I’m not gonna need that ride.”

A pause. “What? Why?”

“Uh…change of plans.”

“Y/n,” Jaemin said flatly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said, eyes flicking toward the door like someone might walk in mid-conversation. “I’m safe, okay? Just…not going to the airport...today.”

Another long pause. “…You sound like you’re about to be arrested or some shit.”

She laughed quietly, nerves bubbling under her skin. “Just trust me. I’ll let you know whats happening later, just let me get ready and I’ll give you a call back.”

“You better. If I don’t hear from you by 1, I’m flying to you myself.”

“Noted,” she smiled. “Bye, Jaemin.”

She hung up before he could push further and let out a breath, dropping onto the edge of the bed.

She was still wearing the perfume she swore she wouldn’t wear again.

And she was sitting in Nakamoto Yuta’s hotel room.

At 10 a.m.

With no idea what the hell was going on.

But she had a concert to get ready for.

Except this time, she wasn’t getting ready in her own hotel room. She was in his. Nakamoto Yuta’s room. 

Which meant when she stood up and walked quietly across the floor, walking toward the bathroom to freshen up, she was heading into his bathroom.

And the second she stepped inside, she just about combusted.

His scent still lingered in the air. Not perfume. Not something from a bottle or spray. Him. It was in the towels, in the faint steam still clinging to the mirror. There was a comb by the sink. A bracelet he must’ve taken off and left there. Even a face wash resting casually beside the tap.

Y/n gripped the edge of the sink, staring at her reflection with wide eyes, her cheeks already flushed.

She was in the room he got ready in. She was standing exactly where he stood before walking out on stage, before seeing her in the crowd.

She let out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself down. "Pull youself together, girl," she whispered to herself.

Then she grabbed a towel, turned the shower on, and stepped into the steam, ready to start again.

The water was warm, comforting, though her thoughts were anything but.

What was her life?

How did she get here?

A laugh bubbled out of her, half-disbelief, half-delirium, as she rinsed shampoo from her hair. If someone had told her a couple days ago she’d be in Yuta’s hotel room, showering in his bathroom, and getting ready for yet another concert because he told her to stay…she would’ve said it was a dream.

But here she was.

And she was going again.

By the time she got out, the mirror was fogged and her skin felt flushed. She wrapped herself in a towels, glancing around like she was still trying to believe any of it was real. After drying off, she moved into the room to do her makeup, laying everything out on the ground in front of her. The eyeliner was darker today. Lips a little bolder. Hopefully, the confidence she didn’t feel came out in her makeup.

Then came the clothes. She hadn’t planned for another night, but somehow she still made it work, a tight vest, another skirt, accessories swapped from what she didn’t wear yesterday. When she finished, she looked at the last thing sitting on the bed beside her stuff.

Her perfume.

She held the bottle in her hand for a moment, just staring.

Was she really about to let a man dictate how she smelled?

She paused.

Looked at herself in the mirror.

Then gave the tiniest shrug and set it right back down.

Well. It looked like she was.

Apparently, she’d let this man do a lot of things.

Y/n grabbed her phone and propped it up against the lamp on the bedside table and hit the video call button before sitting on the bed. It rang twice.

Then Jaemin’s face popped up on the screen, eyebrows immediately shooting up.

“Daaamn, girl,” he said, dragging out the words with a grin. “Who are you trying to impress? You look hot.”

She smirked, flicking her hair a little. “Thanks. I’m going to another concert.”

Jaemin blinked. “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“With what money?” he asked, squinting at her. “You told me you couldn’t even afford airport snacksand your parent’s wouldn’t pay for any more.”

She hesitated, then said casually, “Yuta’s money.”

There was a beat of silence. Jaemin just stared at her. “Okay, if I see a headline tomorrow that says ‘Delusional Fangirl Sneaks Into Concert,’ I’m not picking your ass up from the airport.”

Y/n groaned, “That’s not what happened.”

Jaemin raised a brow. “Then what happened?”

She looked around, then lowered her voice like it mattered. “I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say but...let me explain…but promise not to scream.”

-

Jaemin stared at her through the screen, mouth slightly open, completely stunned.

“Wait! So let me get this straight,” he finally said, blinking slowly. “You’ve stalked this man…he’s figured it out…and he’s proceeded to let you into his room and his next concert?”

Y/n bit her lip, trying not to smile too hard. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

Jaemin leaned back, running a hand over his face. “This is…fucked up.”

“But?” she prompted, grinning.

“But?” his eyes were wide, “There is no ‘but,’ this is just fucked.”

She huffed.

“I mean…there’s not much I can really tell you to do now…” he added. “But if this turns into some true crime bullshit, I’ll make sure you get a good photo.”

“Shut up,” she giggled. “I’m fine. He’s not like that.”

“He better not be,” Jaemin said, pointing at her through the screen. “And if he flies you out again, I want floor seats. You owe me.”

“Deal,” she smiled, still giddy.

“You’re fucking insane,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry!...I’ve got this..” Y/n smiled.

-

Time passed slowly.

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, dressed, ready, and absolutely buzzing with nerves. Her phone was in her hand, screen lighting up every few minutes, none of it was what she was waiting for. Just a few DMs, an Instagram like, a notification from her airline asking if she was still planning to check in.

She was not.

Jaemin had hung up hours ago with a “Good luck, psycho,” and a middle finger blown. Now it was just her, pacing occasionally, then sitting back down, then checking the time again.

4:46 PM.

She’s meant to be picked up at 5.

Shouldn’t someone be here by now?

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, legs bouncing, trying to breathe through the anxiety. What if he forgot? What if it was all a bit? What if she really was insane?

She was just starting to spiral when there was a knock at the door.

She jumped to her feet, nearly knocking her phone off the bed. Heart in her throat, she crossed the room and opened the door.

It was the same driver from the night before.

“Ready?” he asked.

Y/n blinked. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Come on, car’s downstairs.”

She grabbed her bag and followed him, nerves spiking again.

It was real. It was actually happening.

-

The car pulled up behind the venue, a different entrance this time, the only crowds around were behind fences in the distance, screaming for a look. She used to be in the same position, but not anymore. Y/n stepped out, every step closer made her more breathless.

The staff member led her inside. Crew members darted around with headsets and clipboards, shouting into radios, adjusting wires, checking lighting panels. It was busy, but controlled. 

And she was being walked straight through it.

No one questioned her. No one stopped her. They all just made space.

Eventually, they reached a quieter hallway. The man guiding her gave a small knock on a door, cracked it open, and then glanced back at her.

“This way.”

Y/n stepped into the room, and there he was.

Yuta stood in front of a mirror, shirt half-buttoned, a stylist finishing up on his makeup. The light above him caught his dark eyes, on the glint in his earring, on the sharpness that made him look untouchable.

Until he looked up.

He caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled, slow and real. That kind of smile that made her stomach do a full somersault.

“Thanks,” he said, voice low but clear, directed to the people around him, indicating for them to leave.

No hesitation. One by one, everyone packed up and slipped out. She barely even noticed them leave, her eyes hadn’t left him since she walked in.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Yuta turned, facing her fully now, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You made it.”

A rush of nerves moved through her stomach. Sure, this was technically the fourth time they’d spoken, he’d fed her, talked to her like they had something going on, had her miss her damn flight just to be here again, but none of that changed the fact that this was still Yuta.

Her idol.

The person she’d watched through screens, across stages, through phone cameras, never thinking for a second that he’d look back.

And now, he was standing up, eyes locked on hers.

Each step he took toward her was slow and made her pulse throb harder in her throat. Her mouth went dry. 

Even though she’d already been alone with him, backstage, in elevators, sharing smiles in a crowd, this still felt different. Like something was about to happen, and she didn’t know whether to brace herself or let go.

He stopped just in front of her. Close enough that she could smell him, warm and clean. Close enough that her breath hitched without permission.

“Still nervous around me?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

Y/n swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together. “Maybe a little,” she said, almost whispering.

Yuta smiled, soft, but with that same unreadable glint in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly, gaze dragging over her face like he was trying to memorise it. Like he liked that she was nervous. That she couldn’t hide it.

Then he leaned in again, closer, his nose brushing near her cheek as he drew in a slow breath.

He lingered there for a second, then pulled back just slightly, satisfied.

“You listened,” he murmured, his lips curling up a little more. “No perfume.”

She could barely breathe. Her skin was burning.

Yuta gave a low hum of approval. “You smell better this way,” he added.

It didn’t sound like a compliment, but it felt like one. The kind that wrapped around her like a silk rope and didn’t let go.

He stayed close, eyes flicking between hers and her mouth, like he was considering something, like maybe he was deciding how far this moment should go. Y/n felt frozen, locked under the weight of his eyes, of him. 

Her pulse thudded in her ears.

Was he going to kiss her?

Did she want him to?

Yes.

But instead, Yuta’s gaze shifted, his jaw tightened like he was forcing himself to pull back. He took one small step away and glanced at the clock on the wall.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, low and regretful.

Y/n blinked, trying to catch up. “Right…”

Yuta’s eyes met hers again, softer now, but no less intense.

“Watch me,” he said. Not a question. A command.

Her voice caught in her throat, but she nodded quickly. “That’s what I came for.”

That made him smile, really smile. No smirk this time. Just pure satisfaction. Then, without warning, he took her hand and tugged her with him through the door and down the hallway. 

The closer they got to the stage, the louder everything became. The screams of the crowd, the pulse of the music. But all she could focus on was his hand holding hers.

They reached the edge of backstage. He paused, turned to her, and finally let go.

Then, with one last glance and grin, Yuta took off on stage, the crowd roared as the lights flashed and the stage came to life.

She stayed just behind the black curtain, tucked into the shadows with a clear view of the stage, and of him. The entire venue shook with screaming, flashing lights, pounding bass. And still, somehow, Y/n only saw him.

It was impossible not to.

The way he moved. His body rolled with the beat, sharp and fluid. His voice cut through the sound, raw and alive. It was magnetic, addictive. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, not even for a second.

She’d thought maybe after four concerts, the high would wear off. That the novelty would dull, just a little. But it didn’t. Watching Yuta perform felt like a drug. It sank into her blood and stayed there.

And the worst part?

He knew it.

Because every time he moved near her side of the stage, he looked right at her. Not like the casual glance of an idol scanning the crowd, but direct, locked-on. He winked once during a lyric that felt far too suggestive, and she nearly melted into the floor.

Another time, mid-turn, he glanced her way and smirked so subtly she thought she imagined it, until he did it again during the next chorus.

Y/n’s heart was doing laps inside her chest. She was half convinced he was going to give her a heart attack right there in the wings. But she didn’t care.

Let it kill her.

If this was the way to go, watching him like this, feeling like the only person in the room he saw?

She’d die happy.

She could tell the intermission was close if she remembered the setlist correctly. She did. Y/n’s heart thudded. She had a small window. Maybe she could do something for him this time.

Without thinking twice, she spun on her heel and slipped away from the side stage, weaving through the narrow hallways backstage. 

She made her way back to the room they’d been in earlier, peeking through the cracked door to make sure it was empty. It was. Just the low hum of the last bit of a song playing on stage bleeding through the walls.

There, a mini fridge tucked in the corner. She pulled it open and grabbed a cold bottle of water, then paused, spotting a towel folded neatly on the table. After a second’s hesitation, she grabbed that too.

He was probably drenched by now.

Her fingers clenched around the water bottle as she made her way back toward the stage, heart picking up speed again. This wasn’t much, but it felt like something. A small way to take care of him.

He was about to walk off stage any second now, and she wanted to be there. With something in her hands. Ready.

Just as she stepped out of the room, water bottle in one hand and towel in the other, there was commotion at the end of the hall, Yuta. He was there.

His chest was heaving, skin glistening under the lights, eyes darting around like he was looking for something. No, someone.

And then his gaze locked onto hers.

Her breath caught. She lifted the water slightly, about to speak. “Got you water and a–”

But she didn’t get the words out.

With fast steps, he was in front of her. His hands were on her, one at her waist, the other cradling her face, as he pushed her gently back into the room, pushing the door shut behind them with his foot.

And then his mouth was on hers.

Warm. Demanding. Deep.

It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was full of heat, like he'd been holding back for hours, maybe longer. The water bottle fell from her hand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud she barely registered. Her free hand clutched at his shirt, lips parting in stunned surrender.

His grip on her waist tightened, pressing her closer as he kissed her like he needed to make up for all the shows she’d watched from the crowd. Like he was finally letting go.

Y/n’s brain stopped.

Yuta’s mouth moved over hers like he was starving, like he hadn’t just been on stage minutes ago in front of people, like none of that mattered compared to this. Compared to her.

He kissed her hard. No hesitation, no uncertainty. His hand slipped from her waist to her lower back, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the way his breath hitched when she kissed him back just as fiercely. Her mind was a blur of heat and static, no thoughts except Yuta, Yuta, Yuta, crashing like waves in her head.

Then he walked her backward, step by step, until her legs bumped a small table behind her. He didn’t pause. His hand swept out, pushed the edge of the table roughly, just enough to make room, shit clattering to the floor, and then she was leaning back into it, his body pinning hers in place.

His hands roamed, searching, like he wanted to remember the shape of her. They slid up her waist, pushing up her top, fingertips pressing against bare skin. Her breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

His lips didn’t stop, kissing her, then trailing to her jaw, her cheek, down to the curve of her neck. His breath was hot, his touch rough and careful all at once, like he couldn’t decide whether to devour her or worship her.

And just as suddenly as it had started, he stopped.

He pulled back only slightly, his lips ghosting against the skin just beneath her ear, breathing her in. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, fast and uneven, like he was trying to pull himself together. Then, without a word, he stepped away completely.

She blinked, dazed, lips swollen, breath ragged, barely able to stand on her own.

Yuta didn’t look back. He reached for the door, opened it, and slipped out like nothing had happened at all.

Then. The crowd screamed.

Music erupted from the main stage again, and it hit her all at once. He’d just gone back out. Back to performing like he hadn’t just had her pressed up against a table, like he hadn’t kissed her like she was the only real thing in the world.

Y/n stared at the door, stunned. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached up to touch her lips.

What the hell just happened?

Her thoughts were spinning so fast they barely made sense.

He kissed me.

He really kissed me.

Like he meant it.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, her lips tingling, body still leaning against the edge of the table, giving her the support she needed at that moment. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry, scream, or just melt into the floor. None of it felt real, except for the heat still clinging to her skin and the echo of his breath in her ear.

What the hell was that?

Was it just heat-of-the-moment? Was it some kind of high from the concert energy? Did he do this all the time?

No.

No, he looked for her. He talked to her. He came down that hallway, searching for her. That wasn’t random. That wasn’t nothing.

She took a deep breath, trying to ground herself, but the second she looked up, she stilled.

The TV in the corner of the room was on. Silent, but playing the live feed from the stage.

And there he was.

Yuta.

Dancing like nothing had just happened. Hair slightly messier than before, skin flushed, a half-smile tugging at his lips, which looked to have smears of her lipstick. 

Her stomach flipped.

Because she could see it now, between the jumping and flashing lights, he kept glancing towards the camera. Like he knew she was still watching. Still stunned. Still burning from the way he kissed her like he’d waited forever to do it.

And all she could think was…

What do I even do now?

-

She must've been zoning out the entire second half of the concert, because before she knew it, it was over.

She hadn’t moved from the spot Yuta left her in, still in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of a table. The crowd, the music, the energy, it all felt distant. Like she’d been stuck in a daze, replaying that kiss on a loop in her mind.

The door opened behind her with a soft click. She turned her head slowly.

There he was.

Yuta. Posture relaxed, but eyes heavy as ever. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him without a word. With each step he took closer, her pulse quickened.

"You missed the second half," he said, voice low, teasing.

"I-I watched it on the TV..." Y/n stammered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her brain still lagging, like she couldn’t catch up to the moment.

Yuta let out a soft chuckle and walked until he stood right behind her. He leaned down, resting one hand on the back of her chair, bringing his mouth close to her ear. His presence wrapped around her like a snake.

"I’ve got to finish some things up here," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "But I’ll have someone take you back to the hotel..."

A pause. The weight of silence hung between them for half a beat before he added, softer this time, "Wait for me."

The words echoed in her chest.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Then, he leaned in even closer, pressing a kiss gently to the side of her head. She felt his breath against her skin as he lingered there for just a second longer, inhaling.

Her heart was thundering in her chest.

By the time he pulled away and slipped out of the room, she was still frozen in place, eyes wide, breath caught halfway, mind screaming What is happening to me?

-

She couldn’t even remember leaving the venue.

Everything between the moment Yuta left the room and now felt like a blur, like her body had been moving on autopilot while her mind stayed tangled up in the memory of his mouth on hers.

Now she was here, outside the hotel again. The car had already pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the door for her with a polite nod.

Before she could thank him, he handed her an envelope.

“Your flight details and ticket,” he said simply. “He asked me to give it to you.”

She blinked, slowly accepting the envelope with both hands like it might burn her.

“…Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she expected.

He only gave a small smile before returning to the driver’s seat.

Clutching the envelope to her chest, she turned and stepped into the hotel lobby. Her heart was pounding harder with every floor the elevator climbed. And by the time she was standing outside Yuta’s room again, hand hovering over the door handle, her nerves were practically buzzing under her skin.

She stepped into the room, the now familiar scent of him hitting her instantly. The door clicked shut behind her, and she stood still for a moment, just breathing it in. It was quiet. 

She glanced around. The room looked exactly how she left it. Her eyes landed on the bed, then the chair in the corner, then the bathroom door.

Just her. 

Her fingers curled around the envelope in her hand as she wandered to the window, looking out at the city skyline. But she wasn’t really seeing it. Her thoughts were loud, too loud.

Was he thinking about that kiss as much as she was?

She sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly with the movement. Her leg bounced restlessly, nerves winding tight in her chest. The adrenaline from the night hadn’t worn off. If anything, it was worse, moved from excitement to something heavier.

Anticipation.

She kept checking the time on her phone. Every two minutes. Every time she heard movement in the hallway, she sat up straighter.

He’d said wait for me.

So she did.

Still wearing her concert outfit. Still dizzy with everything that had happened.

Still aching for whatever came next.

She tried waiting patiently. Really, she did. But after the tenth glance at her phone and what felt like the hundredth inhale of Yuta’s lingering scent in the sheets, her body refused to stay still.

She got up.

Started pacing.

Back and forth across the carpeted floor like an animal. She hated pacing, always had. But there she was, feet dragging along the same invisible path, nerves eating her alive.

But even that lost its usefulness.

“Ughhh,” she groaned, flopping onto the bed. Her arms sprawled wide, and she stared at the ceiling.

Just then–

Click.

She sat up.

The sound of a keycard being slid into the door. The heavy clunk of the lock opening.

Her eyes shot to the door.

It opened slowly…and there he was.

Yuta stepped in, hair a mess, shirt clinging slightly to his skin from sweat and the cool air outside. His eyes scanned the room and landed on her.

His smile was small, but there. She would have missed it she wasn’t so addicted.

And just like that, her breath caught in her throat.

Yuta moved toward her with that same calmness that made it impossible to look away. Y/n’s breath hitched as he made his way over, every slow step pushing her heart higher into her throat.

“Hopefully I didn’t make you wait too long…” he said.

Y/n shook her head quickly, as if she hadn’t been dying of anticipation just minutes ago.

“Good…” he murmured, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t have my biggest fan waiting on me.”

Her pulse fluttered in her neck as he stood again, this time moving directly in front of her. One step, then another, until he was close, too close.

He stepped between her knees, standing tall as she sat on the edge of the bed, the space between them shrinking to nothing.

She tilted her head up to look at him, and the second their eyes met, she felt it. That look again. The one that was just a shade too dark. Intense. Possessive. Like he already knew she wouldn’t be walking away any time soon.

Yuta didn’t break eye contact as he leaned in, arms resting on either side of her, hands planted on the bed. She instinctively leaned back, and he followed, closing the space between them.

She could barely breathe. His scent, his body, his everything was overwhelming. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

Was this really about to happen?

Y/n barely had time to finish the thought before Yuta's hand slid to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair with a gentle but commanding holding.

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her in and kissed her just like before, like he needed it.

She melted into him instantly.

There was no space for doubt, no time to breathe. Just the press of his mouth against hers and the way he tilted her head just right to deepen the kiss.

Every second felt like it stretched forever, her body completely giving in as he kissed her into something hazy and breathless.

It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a claim. 

And God, she let him have all of her.

Yuta’s lips pressed harder against hers, stealing her breath like it belonged to him. His hand at the back of her neck held her steady, while his other slowly trailed down her side, ready to pull her clothes right off her.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as he guided her back against the bed, his body following until he was above her. The world around her blurred, everything in her focusing on the feeling of his weight on her, the scent of him, the heat that seemed to build in her core.

He broke the kiss for a moment, looking down at her with something in his gaze, something dark, electric, and terrifyingly tender all at once.

"Is this what you wanted…is this what you hoped for when you started following me?" Yuta whispered, his voice low, hoarse, brushing hot against her ear.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks flushed instantly, a rush of embarrassment crashing over her. God, she hadn’t expected this–him–any of it to become real. Not like this. Not in a hotel room, not with his body pressed against hers, not with his voice cutting through her like that. It was all a dream. A fantasy. 

But still…she couldn’t deny it.

She had followed him. Concert to concert. City to city. Holding onto every lyric like it was written just for her. Every glance from the stage had felt like it meant something, even if she’d told herself not to be delusional.

And now…he was here. Touching her. Looking at her like this.

“I…” she tried, but her voice failed her. She swallowed. “I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

The words slipped out too easily. Her heart pounded in her chest like a warning, but her eyes didn’t leave his.

Yuta stilled above her, the tension in his body shifting, like something had clicked. His gaze searched hers, more thoughtful now, the playfulness fading. His eyes…darkened, but not in a dangerous way, more like he was seeing something in her that she couldn’t see herself.

Her mind echoed one line, the words sitting on her tongue.

I’ll follow you until you love me.

This wasn’t just watching from the distance anymore. She meant it. And somehow, he knew that too.

Yuta sat still for a second longer, his thumb brushing gently along her jaw, more tender than before. Then a flicker of something crossed his face, something personal. Distant. Like he was suddenly elsewhere, no longer in this room, wrapped in a thought she couldn’t touch.

But just as quickly as it came, it vanished. He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering just long enough to leave her wanting.

“Be careful with that,” he murmured near her skin, almost too quiet to hear.

She blinked up at him, confused. But he said nothing more.

And in that moment, she didn’t know whether he was warning her, or himself.

Y/n didn’t know what else to say, not when her pulse was in her throat, not when her thoughts were a complete mess. So she didn’t speak, she simply pulled him back to her.

His hands slid beneath her clothes, never rushed, just intense. Every touch burned. Every breath between them felt heavier.

She arched into him, wanting more, and he gave her just that, more kisses, more touch, more of that energy that made her feel like the only thing that existed in his world.

As his mouth traced a path down her neck, her eyes fluttered in delight. The anticipation, the ache, it filled her to the point of no return.

He just stayed there, hovering close, his hand still resting along her jaw, thumb ghosting over her cheek. Then, slowly, he dipped his head lower, brushing the tip of his nose along her collarbone and chest.

Y/n froze, her breath hitching.

He inhaled deeply, not once, but twice. Slow. Deep.

“Fuck…” he whispered, breath shaking. “You smell like...”

He didn’t even finish his sentence as he took a deeper breathe. There was something in his tone, something possessive in the way his fingers gripped slightly into her waist. His lashes were low, his mouth just barely grazing her skin.

“None of that fake shit. No perfumes. No distractions,” he murmured, dragging his nose lightly from her chest to her stomach. “Just you. Mine.”

Y/n’s heart thundered in her chest. She just about missed what he said. Her hands trembled where they rested at her sides, unsure if she should pull him closer or push herself back.

Each press of his mouth left a ghost of heat in its wake, a slow unraveling of her senses. His nose pressed harder to her skin as he breathed her in, slow and deep.

She shivered under the weight of it.

Then, his hands slid to her sides, fingers spreading as he took hold of her waist. His palms were warm and with an aching slowness, they began to move upward. The thin fabric of her singlet gathered between his fingers as he lifted it inch by inch, his tongue now following the path he revealed.

Her heart pounded, skin tingling under every new inch of exposure. It wasn’t just the fact that he was undressing her, it was the way he did it. Worshiping. Devotional. Consuming. Like this moment had existed in his mind long before it had ever reached hers.

She felt bare before she even was.

Yuta’s tongue moved higher, leaving a wet trail of heat up her middle. Her eyes fluttered shut, breath caught in her throat as his hands pushed the shirt up and over her chest. Her thoughts spiraled, spinning in dizzying circles of disbelief and surrender.

God. How did she end up here? How did she get this lucky?

She didn’t even have time to answer the question. Because before she knew it, her cami was on the floor. 

Yuta came back up, his hands glued to her body, dragging along the newly exposed skin. Then his mouth found hers again.

The kiss was messy. Open mouth, tongue and all. With each breath she took between, his tongue darted in, meeting hers. 

He kissed her like he was trying to consume her, like every second away from her mouth was unbearable. She responded quickly, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers pulling on the fabric at his back. There was no time to think. Only feel.

Yuta pressed forward, his weight holding her and she felt all of him against her, the heat of his body, the raise and fall of his chest, the unmistakable hardness between his legs he didn’t bother to hide.

Her mind was screaming. There was nothing else. Just the crush of him above her, the slide of his lips and tongue against hers, the way he tilted his head just right to deepen the kiss, claiming more of her with every second.

It was far from clean, their noses bumped, her teeth grazed his lip, but that’s what she expected from Yuta, what she wanted. 

His hands moved again, gripping her face like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough. The bed creaked beneath them, every shift fueling the fire already burning wild in her veins.

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a fantasy.

This was Yuta.

And he was starving for her.

Her fingers curling into the hem of his shirt, she tugged, just enough to make her want clear. Yuta pulled back slightly, lips still brushing hers as he huffed a breath of a laugh, and without a word, he peeled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Her breath caught.

Stretched across his torso was the massive butterfly she’d seen at the concerts, black wings spanning from one side of his chest to the other, like fire in temporary ink. The same butterfly that bathed in lights from the concert hours ago now in front of her in the quiet of the hotel room. And up close, it was even more alluring.

But then her eyes drifted lower.

Just above the waistband of his jeans, barely visible, were two real tattoos, one on either side of his hips. Her eyes lingered there, tracing the lines. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

Yuta watched her with something like amusement. He liked the she was looking at him. 

And god, she couldn’t look away.

Yuta’s hands slid to her hips and he gently pushed her backward. The bed sheet moving softly beneath her as she leaned further to the middle of the bed. 

He followed her, climbing up onto the bed properly. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled between her legs, gaze never leaving hers.

Then, wordlessly, he reached down.

His fingers gripped the heel of her boots, tugging them off one by one. The dull thud as they hit the floor echoed in the silence between them. Next came her skirt.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband, and with one slow pull, dragged it down over her hips and thighs. The fabric caught slightly at her knees, but it wasn’t hard for him to guide them off the rest of the way, yet another item on the floor. She was left beneath him, nearly bared and vulnerable, her chest rising and falling a little too fast.

The cool air of the room kissed her newly exposed skin, but all she felt was him. His hands, his eyes, his presence, it filled every corner of her world.

And when he looked at her again, still kneeling between her legs, there was something in his gaze that stole the breath straight from her lungs. She could barely name it as he dropped down, closer to her.

Yuta shifted to lay flat on his stomach beneath her. He hooked his hands beneath her thighs, lifting them gently and settling her legs over his shoulders. Then, with a firm grip, he wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs and pulled her closer toward him, anchoring her against him.

Her breath caught, hard.

The intimacy of it all hit her like whiplash. The way his hands molded to her skin, the heat of his breath against her, the sheer proximity, it was overwhelming in the best, most intimidating way.

Her heart thundered in her chest. The weight of what was to come made her skin feel too tight, her body too aware. Every nerve was lit up, her thoughts tangled in a storm of disbelief and desire.

She knew what was coming.

And somehow, the knowing only made it worse. Better.

She wasn’t ready. She was so ready. 

Her hands gripped the sheets beside her, eyes wide and blurry as she looked down at him. Yuta’s gaze lifted to meet hers, dark and unblinking, like he could read every frantic thought running through her.

Yuta’s flickered down as he lowered his head, his breath warm and slow as it ghosted over the thin fabric covering her most vulnerable part. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he was taking a moment just to savor her.

He inhaled deeply, and the sound alone sent shivers through her. Every muscle in her body tensed, her thighs instinctively tightening around him, only for his grip to keep her firmly in place.

She could feel the heat of his breath on her sensitive mound. It wasn’t rushed. He wasn’t rushing to it, he was taking his time, like this was something he’d wanted for far too long.

Yuta’s hands ran slowly along the sides of her thighs, steady and firm, as if to calm her…or claim her.

The tension was unbearable. And yet, she didn’t want it to end.

It was the way he leaned in slowly, that made her breath catch in her throat. When he pressed his face against her, she gasped softly, her hips flinching in surprise. The sensation wasn’t anything she was prepared for. The warmth of him. The closeness. The way he exhaled like he consuming her all over again.

What really made her brain stutter was the sound, subtle and deep, as he breathed her in. Like the scent of her alone was something he’d been aching for. It was so raw and vulgar that her mind couldn’t quite keep up.

And then, gently, he pressed a kiss to her through the fabric. Just one, but it lingered. Her whole body tensed, a wave of heat spreading through her chest and up her neck.

She squeezed her eyes shut, one hand flying to cover her mouth as she shifted instinctively beneath him. She was sensitive, impossibly so, with him on her like this. Yuta, her idol, her obsession, now real in the most impossible way.

She wasn’t sure how long she could last.

She should have expected the next sensation. A slow, hot pressure that moved up her clothed cunt. Her back arched before she could stop herself, a sound slipping from her lips, completely caught off gaurd.

Even through the fabric, it was insane. The warmth of him. The wet glide of his tongue as he dragged it up the center of her like he had all the time in the world.

Her fingers quickly moved to heir hair, knuckles pale as she gripped his locks. Her breath came short now, uneven. He must have been studying the way she responded with how he watched her.

She bit her lip, but the moan still escaped, quiet, shaky, and completely involuntary.

There was something dizzying about the contrast of the soft fabric between them and the heat of him pressing through it. It had her whole body humming, toes curling as the pressure built and her thoughts scattered to dust.

Her hips jolted before she could stop them, a soft cry slipping past out her as his lips closed over her. Even with the barrier of her underwear still between them, the sensation of his lips moving against her sent a pulse of heat through her entire body. 

She gripped his hair tighter, her mind was spinning, still unable to process the fact that this was real, that Yuta was here, doing this, to her.

And he was getting exactly what he wanted, every shift of her hips, every breathless noise he drew from her only seemed to make him more determined. Like her reactions were the only thing that mattered in the world.

It was when he started gently sucking through the fabric when her head fell back against the pillows as another wave rolled through her, leaving her trembling beneath him.

She was gone. Completely unraveling, and he hadn’t even really touched her yet.

“Why don’t we get all this out of the way?” Yuta’s voice came low as he pulled back slightly, eyes scanning her quickly.

Y/n could barely breathe. Panting, her skin flushed and trembled under his gaze.

He reached the clasp of her suspenders, unhooking them, the sound of the metal clips releasing far louder in the stillness than it had any right to be. With the suspenders now off, he left just her stockings, but unstead of removing them, his hands trailed lightly down them, brushing over her calves, her ankles, his tongue darting out teasingly as he did.

But it wasn’t until his fingers hooked around the waistband of her underwear that her heart stuttered.

She should’ve felt shy, maybe even nervous, but instead, she felt breathless and needy. Her fingers dug into her palms as he peeled the final barrier away from her skin, and a soft gasp escaped her when the cool air hit her now bare core. She hadn’t even realized how wet she was until that moment.

She was completely exposed now. And yet, under his touch, under his gaze, she didn’t feel small or afraid.

She felt wanted. Worshipped.

Yuta repositioned himself without any further words. Her stocking covered legs settled over his shoulders again, his hands reattached on her thighs. His face hovered close, so close she could feel the heat of his breath ghosting her wet opening.

Y/n’s entire body tightened. She’d never felt so ready yet so unprepared all at once.

Then he leaned in, placing a soft kiss just where she ached for him most, just as he did before. The warmth of his mouth made her shudder.

And then, he deepened.

Yuta’s movements were planned, like he knew exactly what she needed before they even hit the bed. As the pass of his tongue came, Y/n’s back arched again, a heavy gasp escaping her throat. Then he returned to kissing her throbbing bud.

It was like a cycle. A lick and a kiss. 

Each pass of his tongue through her folds brought pleasure, and each kiss to her clit brought warmth. 

When his lips wrapped around her bud and sucked, it was like her body forgot how to process anything else. The sensation pulled a sharp breath from her lips, her head tipping back against the pillows as a flurry of heat rushed through her.

Her thoughts scattered, completely undone by the way he moved. The room felt too warm, the air too thick, but none of it mattered. Not with him, there, with that kind of focus, with that kind of care.

She couldn’t even speak. Only feel.

Yuta pulled back, only slightly, lips glistening. His hands still gripped her thighs, holding her close, completely under his control, and he knew it.

His eyes flicked up to hers, half-lidded and burning with desire. A smile tugged at his lips, the kind that made her heart stutter and her breath hitch.

"You’re shaking," his voice was taunting, amused. "Barely touched you and you’re already falling apart."

He leaned in again, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath, but not enough to touch. Blowing air against her needy hole, she instinctively pusled and tightened, earning a chuckle from Yuta.

She let out the tiniest sound, a desperate noise from the back of her throat, and it only made him grin wider.

"That desperate for me already?" he whispered before pressing a kiss above her clit.

With one final flick of his tongue, Yuta pressed a kiss to her inner thigh before finally pulling back. Her breath caught as he rose, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on hers the whole time.

Her chest heaved, body trembling, the cool air of the room doing little to settle the fire he’d started in her. Yuta stood up from the bed. Her eyes trailed him, completely captivated, as his fingers dropped to his belt. The soft sound of the buckle being undone echoed in the room. 

He didn’t break eye contact as he slid the belt from the loops, letting it fall with a quiet thud to the floor. There was something in his gaze that told her he had her right where he wanted her.

Before she could even fully take in the sight of him, Yuta was already moving. He climbed back onto the bed, and in a blink, he was on top of her. His hands found her sides, then he was there, chest against hers, lips capturing hers in a kiss that left no room for thought.

It was, yet again, messy, just how she liked it.

Her fingers curled into his back instinctively, needing something to hold onto as he pressed her down, his arms wrapping around her like he couldn't bear to let her go. There was a heat to him, not just his skin, but something that matched the rapid beat of her own heart.

Wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his scent and the weight of his presence, she felt like the world outside this bed didn’t exist.

She was so lost in the way he kissed herm that she barely registered how close their bodies had become. It wasn’t until the shift of his hips and the subtle but unmistakable feeling of his dick lining up with her opening. The warm press of him against her.

Her breath caught in her throat. She opened her eyes to look at him.

Yuta pulled back just enough to look back at her, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing as uneven as hers now. 

Was he as nervous as her, or was this just the high of sex?

That’s when she felt it, the slow push inside of her, filling her. A deep ache flittered in her stomach as he slid in and out of her. Yuta’s mouth found hers again, open and slow, swallowing her soft gasps with each kiss.  

With each thrust, Y/n felt like her body was floating. The weight of him, the warmth of him, the way he moved, it all felt so unreal. Like it was all make believe. 

When she wasn’t kissing him, she couldn’t stop looking at his face. His lashes low, his eyebrows furrowed, looking at her intensely. His hands, however, wouldn’t stay still. Holding her hips, gripping her her waist, brushing her cheek.

Yuta’s movement was steady, each pound sending sensations through her, her core tightening. Y/n gripped his arm, nails digging in slightly, trying to stay present. 

His hot breath on her neck, growing heavier by the second. She felt as he chuckled slightly.

“Still with me?” he murmured, voice rough and raw. 

She just had enough will to nod, but far to lost to speak. Still, he held her close. It was as if he knew what was going on inside her head before she did. 

“Mhmm, you feel that?” Yuta spoke between gasps. “That’s real..”

She leaned up, into him, trying to get a grip on reality. Kissing her cheek roughly, he kept thrusting into her. 

“You followed me..” he started. “City after city..and now you’re here..under me..”

Her heart launched at his words. How was he not utterly disgusted by her? 

“And I’m not letting you go. Not tonight.”

Yuta leaned in, his breath ragged and warm against her cheek. 

“Tell me..” he panted. “What are you?” 

The question sent a wave of nerves through her, though she already knew the answer he was looking for. 

“I-I’m your biggest fan,” she choked out, voice trembling with each thrust. 

A smirk pulled on his lips, but he wasn’t done. Still pounding into her, he continued. “And?”

Her heart was about to explode, her voice barely above a whisper as she spilled out her breathless confession. 

“I’ll follow you until you love me…” 

For a split second, Yuta’s movement stilled, his eyes burning into her. A look flashed past his eyes, something dangerous. Then, he smiled. 

Yuta was relentless, slamming into her at an infuriating pace. But that wasn’t the only thing relentless about him. The way he watched her, intensely waiting for her to come undone before him. Leaning down, he pressed a wet kiss to her jaw.

“Look at you..” he murmured against her jaw, “You like this..yeah, you’re liking this a lot.”

Y/n couldn’t even form a comeback, her brain was fogged. Every roll of his hips her core tightened, begging for release. 

“You want me to ruin you, don’t you?” Yuta taunted, his lips brushing her cheek. 

Her only answer was a desperate gasp and a whimper. He chuckled, smiling against her cheek. 

“Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me to ruin you.”

She could barely get a thought out, let alone speak coherently. Instead, she clawed into his back as a wave of pleasure overcame her. The feral look on his face told her he had no intentions on slowing down. 

And that’s what pushed her over the edge, her orgasm crashing down on her like a tsunami. Y/n felt her body tighten with the overwhelming high, her voice breaking as she shook, the world going blurry and warm.

Yuta didn’t stop, he rode through the storm, dragging it out until her legs trembled around him and he filled her with his seed. Then finally, he leaned down, forehead resting against hers, his chest rising and falling with hers.

“Still my biggest fan?” he asked, breathlessly.

Y/n let out a dry laugh, but nodded nonetheless. 

His grin widened. “Good.” When Yuta finally pulled back, his breath was ragged as he looked down at her. His eyes raked over her flushed face, red cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the way his essence dripped out of her. She looked like a wreck, yet, it was a beautiful sight to see. It made his chest tighten, but that wasn’t something he’d ever admit. 

He ran a finger across her forehead, pushing back a piece of hair before dragging his finger down her cheek. His eyes lingers softly for a beat too long. 

Then, without a word, he collapsed down beside her, letting out a long groan and an arm flung over his eyes lazily. The silence settled over the two of them, nothing but the sound of breathing filling the room. 

Y/n blinked at the ceiling, brain still trying to catch up, heart still thuding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body radiating beside her, the weight of the moment sinking in. 

What just happened?

The entire night played in her head like a movie she couldn’t pause, from the moment she was stopped that morning, to now…lying next to the very person she’d once only watched from a screen. Her idol. Her obsession. Now real, warm, and a little too close to comprehend.

It felt insane. Completely unhinged, even. This wasn’t supposed to happen to people like her. This was the kind of thing you dreamed about, not lived. And yet, here she was. Sweaty, dazed, probably bruised, and so, so alive.

Just as her mind began to spiral again, she felt the bed shift.

Yuta turned onto his stomach with a soft sigh, his head facing away from her, and casually dropped his arm across her middle. The weight of it landed right above her stomach.

Her thoughts vanished.

Blank.

Every nervous question, every surreal thought, gone. Like his hand had flipped a switch, quieting everything.

She swallowed, glancing down at where he touched her. He was still half out of breath, sprawled like he had nothing in the world to worry about. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

Her fingers hovered uncertainly for a second…before she let them rest lightly on his forearm.

Whatever this was, whatever it meant, she wasn’t going to question it. Not yet.

She just wanted to exist in it. With him. For now.

The exhaustion had finally started to weigh on her. The adrenaline, the nerves, the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions, it all caught up with her at once. 

Y/n blinked slowly, her eyes growing heavier by the second. Yuta’s arm was still slung over her, it was getting harder to fight the pull of sleep. 

She let her head lull to the side, eyes fluttering shut, her breathing starting to slow. She didn’t even register the soft rustle beside her, the slight lift of Yuta’s head as he shifted to look at her. 

His eyes landed on her face, now relaxed and peaceful. Her lips slightly parted, lashes resting against her flushed cheeks. He didn’t say anything, just watched.

She was already asleep, she hadn’t noticed his gaze. And he didn’t move.

He just lay there, watching her breathe. For the first time that night, everything was quiet. 

-

The light that filtered through the room cast a hazy warmth over the room. Y/n stirred, her body stretching under the sheets. A dull ache settled in her limbs, not painful, but a reminder of the night before.

For a moment, she smiled to herself, eyes still closed. The memory of the night flooded her memory. She wasn’t ready to let go.

But then something felt off.

She reached out, hand brushing over the cold surface of the the bed beside her. 

Empty. 

Her eyes opened. 

Yuta’s side was vacant, cold with no trace of warmth. Her gaze darted around the room in confusion, he chest tightening. 

She sat up. The room was looking too clean. 

The clothes that had been tossed onto the floor, gone. The shoes by the door, gone. The phone charger plugged into the wall, the smell of him, all of it, gone. 

Her heart sank, a sick hollowness blooming inside her.

He was gone. 

No note. Barely a sign. 

Y/n’s fingers curled into the sheet in her lap, mind racing. Had she imagined the whole thing? No…no! It happened! She could still feel the weight of his touch lingering on her skin, his voice in her ear.

But now the silence in the room was deafening.

-

comments and reblogs are appreciated A/N: Thank you so much for reading, hopefully it won't take too long to get through the other two parts, but knowing me, it could be 💀

[fictiongods]

#22 or #36 prompts for fuffy pretty please🥺 (or both)

Okay so this has been in my drafts for a few months because couldn’t quite get the tone of this right, but I think I finally got it to where I’m content with this. I hope you enjoy!

From prompts list.

————-

Slinked tight into the shadows, Faith stared into Buffy’s room. It wasn’t anything special, not technically. But in her mind it was always cozy-warm, light pastels and cheery posters, shit like that. The stuff she never had. The real deal wasn’t far off.

Buffy stood in front of her mirror, brushing her hair. Faith was careful to keep her own reflection away as she peered through. She saw the stuffed pig sitting on her perfectly made bed — Mr. Gordo, she remembers — and other random trinkets lying around. The other stuff she never got. What else is new here?

Buffy made a face as she got to a tangle, and idly Faith wondered if she combed through those blonde locks one hundred times every night, and if birds stopped to sing at her windowsill as she did. Though, the only bird perched there was her.

She focused back to the rehearsed lines in her head, about the tremors she could add to her voice. She wondered how easy it would be to get Buffy to believe her.

Buffy wanted her good. She wanted the perfect slayer; the one who followed her commands, her life style, wanted Faith to be one who lived in her town. Fuck that.

Faith would make this her town. She would make Buffy the fool; stop constantly being one. If this works.

Faith shifted on the roof, shook away her nerves (the ones she didn’t need anyways), and gently eased the window open.

Buffy whips around when the window inevitably creaks — old thing — and looks around for the intruder. With luck, the moonlight was hidden behind the tree out front, and she was shielded in darkness.

“Angel?” Her voice is careful, but calm. He must do this regularly.

“Buffy.” Vulnerable. Fragile. That’s what she needed to be.

“Faith?” Buffy’s voice hardens, and there’s a slight shift in her stance, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t a slayer.

She brings herself into the light, missing the safety blanket it gave. Buffy’s face filled with confusion as the other girl stood. It was only half seen; she’d blocked the light. But she could see her well enough.

“I think I’m in trouble.” She makes herself small, putting a slight tremor in her movements.

Buffy quirks her head, raising a threatening fist. “Well, if you sneak into a girl’s room uninvited…”

Faith ignores her barb, and goes back to her lines.

“No, for real. I…” she trails off, and takes few steps closer into the room. “I know what I said. What I did. But, this doesn’t feel right.”

Buffy’s face is solid, lips pursed in a thin line. “Gee, what got you so queasy, Faith? The murders? tying me up, betraying me, Angel’s soul; I mean really, the list goes on. So what? Little bit of quiet and you can’t deal?” She crosses her arms tight over herself.

“Remember what Angel said? That killing for him, it was like a drug. And I gotta say, the stuff’s trippy. But I think I just got off the road.”

Buffy stares back at her, florescent lights reflecting off those crystal blue eyes. Faith takes a few small steps closer. She stands in the center now, mere inches away from Buffy. Her damp boots leave small imprints in the soft fabric.

“What?” Is all Buffy says back.

“I know you were there. Watching. Waiting. Could feel you,” She rasps out.

Faith’s never been called studious, but she’s studied Buffy like a book. She knows how Buffy ticks. What gets her blood pumping under her skin. How she gets riled up, all for her. She sees the slightest changes in her face, the smallest drop of her shoulders, the heavy rise and fall of her chest. A clock strikes, and somewhere Buffy Summers ticks to her time.

Slayer powers may allow her to literally sense her, but Faith’s sure she could of done it anyways. Something in her just reaches out. Feels for her; scratches and presses in, and bam — there she is: the golden girl with a halo.

“Why now?” She asks — begs, quietly.

Because he needs me to.

The Boss needs her to stall Buffy, she’s gonna do it. He needs to get the box uninterrupted, and she needs him. Well — no, she doesn’t need him. But to make the town hers? She needs that. To be the Slayer, not just a spare part. And this is how. Precious Buffy Summers falls, and she ascends.

“Dunno. We always knew I was a little slow, right?” She steps closer still, almost impossibly, and lifts a hand to the ends of her hair.

“Is that blood on your hands?” Faith could feel her breath on her face.

Right. She’d almost forgotten about that. She’d gotten into a fight on the way here, just around the corner to her block. Some big demon with lumps of flesh claws for hands. She was glad for it though; gave her something to punch. Something to kill.

She brings her hand down, tries not to stare too hard and the small red streak left behind in the blonde.

“S’not human, promise. Trying to veer off the hard stuff, remember?”

Buffy steps backwards suddenly, her back hitting against her desk before realizing she can’t go that way anymore. She opps to push past her instead and goes to where Faith was by her open window.

“No. No, you don’t get to do this,” She says sharply. “You don’t get to just — just climb through my window whenever you get weepy, and then climb back out when you’re done with it and go murder some random guy! You need to leave.” She points a hand back towards the window.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Faith responds immediately, becoming defensive.

“Isn’t it?” Buffy asks with a cruel tilt of the head, holding herself up high like some kind of all-pure-holy-authority.

Faith grinds her teeth together, and forces herself to stay on task. Not punch and punch and punch and punch that self righteous face until it’s good and bloody.

“No. I get it now. I…” Faith trails off, glancing down at her stained hands. Her mind rattles around for something to say. She’d long fallen off her script, if she’s being honest.

“I want you to go.” Buffy cuts in. Only Faith doesn’t go. She can’t. For the box. She has to get the box.

“I’ve got all this power. Makes me feel good. Strong. Real god like. But it makes me do these things…things I don’t have control over. Nothing’s in control, Buffy.” When Faith dares to steal a glance, Buffy stands still by the window watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I can’t trust myself, B.” she rips her eyes away, “I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore. Or maybe I do, but it’s nothing good. I’m not — I don’t know what to do anymore.” She treads cautiously to the bed and takes a seat at the edge.

Buffy moves after her, when the room fell silent for a few moments. But she was here, sitting down next to her. She was listening. Really listening, this time.

It’s working.

Her head aches as she goes, her heart beating in her chest like a cage fighter. But she continues lets the lies spill from her, and pushes down any voice in her head telling her that truth lies smack dab in the middle of it.

“I don’t even know what I’m doin’. Everything hurts. Nothing makes sense.” Faith’s gaze falls back to the small red streak in her hair.

Buffy’s eyes bore into hers searching desperately for something. Faith refuses to meet them, and hopes Buffy believes whatever’s even coming out of her mouth right now.

“I was made to be a slayer, and I can’t even do that right.” And sometimes, she wants to say, it feels too right. But she kept that for herself.

“Oh Buffy, I’m so scared.” She takes a deep breath and launches herself into Buffy’s arms, praying she doesn’t shove her out the window.

She doesn’t do that. She doesn’t do much of anything. Buffy tenses, letting out a broken gasp of surprise. She doesn’t put her arms around her, they stay iron clad at her sides, balled up in tight fists.

Faith grips the back of Buffy’s pajama shirt in between her fingers, trying to push her closer to her than she already is. When she tucks her face in the side of her neck, she can feel her own breath hit back on her face.

Something wet falls on her shoulder. She can feel how Buffy’s shaking, just slightly. Or — maybe it’s her. She can’t tell with how close they are. Faith practically molds herself to the other girl, trying to goad her into doing something. Anything.

Then slowly, like an injured bird approaching a new nest, Buffy places her hands to Faith’s back. They slide up and down soothingly, just barely traces of her nails on her skin.

“It’s okay,” she says, in the quietest tone one can manage and still be heard in, like her voice had completely given out. Like every ounce of her strength fell to those hands, and she’s got no more left for her words. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

Someone makes a small whimper, and Buffy’s hands find her hair, slowly picking up a strand, smoothing it out between her fingers, then moving on to the next.

Somewhere out in the distance, a phone rings, and they both ignore it. Faith clings to her tightly, both shaking, both unable to let go.

She doesn’t remember a time where anyone’s ever held her like this. Maybe when she was small, and less of a shit. Maybe her mom, on a good day. She didn’t have many of those.

The world blurs around her, and Faith’s body grows cold, no matter how warm the woman next to her is. The heels of her palms dig harder into Buffy’s back, trying to feel anything from it. To wake her body from its numbed out state.

Buffy’s still whispering small it’s okay’s and it will be alright, you’re not alone into her shoulder, but Faith stopped hearing it a while ago.

Maybe it could be just them, she thinks. Her mind melts away, and it’s just her and B, the slayers; the Chosen Two. Two of a kind.

One soul meets another, and maybe Faith can believe her. Everything will be okay. They will be okay. Together.

When the phone rings a second time, Buffy kisses her softly on the head and pulls away to look her in the eye.

“It could be Giles, it’s pretty late.” Her voice was hoarse as she said it. When she pulls away and heads for the door Faith can see her face stained with tears.

“Buffy wait—!” Faith knows what that call is. Her stomach turns tight.

“Don’t worry, I-I’ll be back. I promise.” And with that, Buffy was gone from view.

Faith wipes her face, and her hand comes back wet. Was she crying too?

The slayer shakes her head, and gets up hastily from the bed. Buffy will be back any minute. She’d have realized what this was. A trick. A show.

Faith took one last glance around. The white rug, the striped walls, the cutesy posters B had hung around the room, the stupid little trinkets she collected. A waste.

It was better this way. The Boss must’ve had the box by now. She had won. She smiled a sick smile, ignoring the few tears that slipped through. Faith headed back out the window and back to the shadows.

All that was left behind was curtains blowing in the breeze and an angry broken-hearted blonde in the center of the room who called out her name.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Hero Box: Delivery of the Vile

Art & writing collaboration with @theavocadojam for the @d2artevents Brand Your Guardian zine! Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there.

"Kieran! It is good to see you."

The banging of pots and pans from the kitchen in the back formed a cacophonous counterpoint to Eris Morn's calm demeanor as she greeted Kieran Nor at the Drifter's new bento box delivery stall in the Last City market. Her glowing orb floated eerily between her hands.

Kieran nodded to Eris with a smile and approached the counter where she stood next to the cash register.

"I trust the Drifter has already provided you with sufficient instructions regarding your job duties. I have prepared this document to accompany your delivery." Eris paused and then continued. "The Drifter requested I ensure you understood this one to be... lickety... split." Eris said the last two words slowly as though she had never heard them before and was confused as to their meaning.

She gestured ominously with one hand toward a stack of hot, slightly greasy, boxes. One of them was dripping an unnatural phosphorescent substance. The Drifter's "Hero Box" logo was cheerfully emblazoned on each one.

Kieran's ghost, Blinx, floated over, spun his Fervent shell once, and then transmatted the containers into his inventory.

"I have also taken the liberty of sending coordinates to your ghost." Eris added.

Kieran looked down at the lettering on the parchment Eris had given him. Blinx hovered over his shoulder.

"Eris," Blinx asked. "Am I reading these coordinates right? Are we delivering this to... the Pyramid in Savathun's Throne World?"

"That assessment is accurate," Eris intoned.

“Who the hell’s ordering food in there?!” Kieran muttered.

There was a small explosion in the back.

"Dammit!" The Drifter's voice came from behind the door followed by an especially loud clanging and the hiss of escaping steam.

Eris stiffened in mild alarm and looked at the closed door behind her.

"I'm fine!" the Drifter's voice added.

Eris sighed and her three-eyed gaze returned to Kieran.

"I asked him the same question. His response was that the recipient had paid a premium for a lack of inquiry and that you would, likewise, be appropriately compensated for your own."

Kieran raised his eyebrows.

"So he just... didn't ask?" he asked Eris.

"Indeed," Eris confirmed.

"That's insane," Blinx said, widening his shell. "Why would he do that?"

"I believe it is part of his... business plan." Eris twitched the fingers of one hand and her Ahamkara bone floated over to one of the posters the Drifter had hastily put up along the side of the stall. The words "We deliver everywhere! No questions asked!" were in bright colours at a diagonal along the bottom third of the sign.

"...and," Eris added as her glowing orb returned to her hands, "...the delivery was also promised to be in... under thirty minutes."

Kieran heaved a long sigh and prepared to transmat.

Less than ten minutes later, Kieran was in the Throne World. He rode his Sparrow as far as he could but whoever designed the Pyramid seemed to have built it expressly to prevent anyone from taking a Sparrow inside. Jerks.

Normally Kieran preferred to use Stasis, but for this particular job, speed was of the essence and if he couldn't drive through, he was going to need some extra mobility. Arc energy coursed through him as he went through the first Pyramid entrance at a dead run.

"...really convenient you ended up coming by for this right now." Fynch prattled on in Kieran's helmet.

"Oh?" Blinx asked over the comms link so Kieran could focus on running. "Why is that?"

"The team Ikora sent to clear this place out? They got lost in the Miasma and the Vanguard said they had higher priorities and to just wait. Worm breeding grounds are almost completely overrun."

Blinx sighed. "Wonderful."

Kieran turned his Lodestar Trace Rifle on a swarm of Screebs rushing toward him. They burst in sequence with a popping sound, painting the flooring with splashes of Dark Ether.

"I can't believe we have to fight our way through." Blinx complained to Fynch. "Who orders food in the middle of a warzone behind enemy lines?"

"Gotta admit I'm stumped on that one too," Fynch answered. "Let me know if you find out. Sure is weird."

Kieran triple-jumped, swapping out the Trace Rifle for a Grenade Launcher and landed a shot on a Scorn Abomination square in the middle of its rotting chest. He then swapped back to the Trace and proceeded to fry several Raiders as they fired on him while he slid on his knees.

The purple Void missiles from the now-dead Raiders bounced and scattered around Kieran as he leaned back and continued to slide under the low opening formed by a stone slab which was moving upward far too slowly for his liking. Then, with a rolling tumble forward, he was on his feet again continuing at a dead run, amplified with Arc Light.

The weird statuary and urns of the Pyramid's Dark City blurred in Kieran's vision as he blew past them heading deeper into the complex, effectively and efficiently removing all the Scorn which seemed to be bound and determined to get in his way.

Keimiks, Warden of the Harvest, was obviously not the recipient of the delivery order. But that was who Kieran came up against in the Incubation Chamber where his delivery needed to be made.

After mowing down several dozen Scorn, blowing up several Totems and getting some serious hits in on the Baron, Kieran found himself frustratingly teleported back to an area of the Dark City he'd already fought his way through.

"Dammit!" Blinx said in his ear. "This delay is going to eat into our delivery time. We need to get back in there fast!"

Kieran nodded quietly and increased his efforts, blowing through hostiles even more quickly than before, not stopping to take out any stragglers as long as his way forward was clear.

He'd just reached Keimiks again and managed to toss his Arc Staff right into the Scorn Baron's face when he was once more teleported back several rooms and prevented from finishing Keimiks off.

Kieran ground his teeth in frustration and channeled all his Light into his own mobility. The terrain around them seemed to blend together and the Ravagers and Stalkers fell crackling and jerking with electricity as Kieran ripped his way back through the Pyramid. Soon enough he was once more in the Incubation Chamber, tossing a Pulse Grenade at Keimiks' feet while emptying the entire magazine of his Cataphract GL3 Grenade Launcher into the oversized Scorn's face.

With a final gasp of Dark Ether the Baron fell to his knees and lay still.

Kieran, breathing heavily, ran over to the empty brazier in the middle of the room where his delivery coordinates had specified the order needed to be placed.

Blinx transmatted the dripping boxes down and Kieran slapped the parchment receipt Eris had given him on top of the stack.

"Four Hero Boxes," Kieran said, reading Eris' spidery script out breathlessly to the empty room. "Hive Nigiri, no wasabi. Wizard Fingers with extra Taken butter. Double order of Ascendant Eye Poppers." Kieran sucked in another lungful of air through his teeth. "And a Vanilla Vex Milk Flan. Hot and ready, as promised."

The dead mangled Scorn bodies scattered around them gave no response.

Blinx scanned the room. "This can't be happening. Did we just go through all that only for no one to even show up to pay and take the food?"

"Oh, I'll take the food, maggots. But I ain't payin' that scumbag Drifter anything."

Kieran and Blinx turned around to see Savathun's ghost, Immaru, gloating in the air behind them.

"Did... did Drifter know he was delivering to you?" Kiran asked, still catching his breath.

Immaru chortled as though this was the funniest joke ever. "Of course not. Mr. Ask-me-no-questions-I'll-tell-you-no-lies didn't ask. You glitter bums are so predictable"

"You stiff Drifter on the bill and you're getting blacklisted." Blinx snarled at the other ghost. "No more deliveries ever again, for all eternity."

"Nuh-uh," Immaru spun his shell and laughed. "He said thirty minutes or it's free." The tiny spiky Hive General leaned forward in the air. "You took thirty two."

"We were in this room three times!" Blinx practically shrieked. "We got teleported out twice!"

"Instructions were clear. Coordinates were given. You..." Immaru flexed the Hive chitin of his shell at Blinx. "...were slow. Now get the hell outta here before I call every Lucent Hive in the area down on your pathetic asses."

"Come on Blinx," Kieran said, his voice exhausted. "Let's go."

"Oh and thanks for dealing with my Scorn problem for me, jerkwads. Vanguard's been dragging its heels around here. I'll be sure to order food from that slimy basement creep again next time they slack off. You're so much cheaper than wasting my own resources, especially when your slow asses get me free dinner too."

"You!" Blinx began to rush toward Immaru. Kieran grabbed his ghost gently and walked out.

Be sure to check out the rest of the zine too!

[aarontveit]

GRACELAND | 2013 - 2015 S03E08: Savior Complex

[vanhelsingapologist]

Sink your teeth, you’re in love for one night

—

This was originally for Strahdtober’s “bride” prompt but I got so busy! I still think it looks nice for something I did fairly quickly.

[endofbeginings]

Just realized i never posted the alt version i did for the monaco gp poster :-)

[andypartridges]

songs from picaresque (2005) as posters :-)

[thelostgirl21]

I've just gotta say...

The fact that Joey is the only actor we see near the entrance of the room just waving some people around and throwing kisses - more focused on greeting a "larger audience" than individually greeting his co-stars - is the most Jaskier thing ever!

Joey definitely picked Jaskier up on the side of the road on his way there, 'cause his inner bard is showing!

Seriously though, that video's focus is also like 95% on Joey/Jaskier...

So, here's Joey/Jaskier kissing and waving...

Here's Joey/Jaskier winking...

Here's Joey/Jaskier reading...

Here's Joey/Jaskier's singing and being a goof...

Hey! BTW we've got Laurence Fishburne this season, too! Yay! Big Hollywood name!

But enough of that! Here's yet more bard footage for you!

Do you see how precious that puppy of a bard is?

I mean look at him! Being all cute and bashful at being complimented/teased by his co-stars... Aww...

Oh! Right! We should probably do a Yenralt closing shot!

[overchromatic]

bitches love me for my Allister doodles