#i like mixing ghost's white eye and something's black

[some-mari-thoughts]

The neighborhood ghost

Waaaa! I loved reading the artbook so much, and Mari's page had everything I ever needed to see

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[nerdygirlramblings]

really want to write more about Oz, but the omegaverse worms keep entering my brain

cw: attempted accents

previous

Price clocked your reactions this afternoon. He isn't stupid. He knows that being a woman, and an omega in particular, puts a target on your back. The prejudice against both your primary and secondary genders means you need to be so much better than your peers, and you are. You are outstanding in your field. Extraordinary. He's not surprised some other task force hasn't snatched you up before now.

Thankfully, he got you to agree to dinner with the team, so he has help in convincing you to join them as a teammate. And once you're on the team, they can work on convincing you to join the pack.

Two hours after you left his office, and with your parents' words ringing in your ears, you're in the mess, waiting alone at a table in the back. You're usually in the mess alone but try not to linger long. An unclaimed omega alone around so many alphas is practically asking for trouble. Just as you start worrying about Captain Price and the others, he walks in flanked by the largest man you've ever seen in your entire life, his face hidden by a mask with a painted skull on it. Price is big, but the man next to him is taller and almost twice as wide.

Price is looking around the room, but the masked man leans towards Price and points in your direction. When he sees you, Price breaks into a grin and starts heading your way. As he and the large man in the mask approach, you're able to see two smaller - in comparison - men behind them, moving with a purpose that lets you know this is the full 141. Besides Price and the mountain, there's a stocky white man with a mohawk and a beautiful, lithe black man.

When they all stand in front of you, you can smell Price's autumnal scent along with another alpha whose scent is layered in something sharp, like ginger, onion, and garlic. It's a smell you associate with Mum's cooking, but you know many find it off-putting. There's a scent of saplings or fresh snapped greenery mixed with the mellow smell of a warm day: a spring scent coated in beta. The last is another beta, but this scent is crisp and brine, the ocean made flesh. You wonder whose scent is whose.

Price steps forward, offering you his wrist, his scent, again. As you take it and bring it closer to your face, he smiles and says, "Glad ya came." You dip your head in a slight nod and drop his hand, and he takes the seat across from you. He introduces the rest of the pack task force in turn, each man politely offering their wrist before sitting down. You recognize the informal scenting ritual common when joining new groups. You did the same with your squad when you first came to base.

Leftenant Simon "Ghost" Riley is the other alpha. He is sat next to Price. Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish smells like the ocean, and Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is spring. With your permission, the sergeants are sat on either side of you.

"I wan'ed ya ta be able to put faces to the 141 before ya made yer decision," Price tells you. "This way if ya wan'ed ta see what are trainin' looks like or ask about anything, ya'd know who ta ask." Then he surprises you when he suggests you go with the sergeants, the betas, to grab trays for everyone.

"Gaz and Soap know wha' we like," he says, pointing between him and Ghost. "They can get ours while we hold the fort." He must read the confusion on your face, but he only smiles in response. This was not the behavior of an alpha trying to prove his worth to an omega. This was a Captain letting you converse with members of the task force equal to you in rank without superior officers around.

As you make your way to the food, you see Soap eyeing you. You look back a few times, clearly puzzled and a little off balance, until Gaz finally elbows him and says, "Either spit it out, mate, or stop gawkin'."

Soap grins almost manically. "Aye seen ye running th'other morn. Yoor form neyver waivered. Was a sight," he sighs. You remember someone complementing your form after a run about a week back.

"Oh, tha' was you? You were quick!"

"Nae as quick as yoo, lass. I saw yoo pass the barracks foor times. An' aye could tell yoo'd been runnin' a fair bit befoor aye saw ye. Aye cannae run tha' consistently." He doesn't miss the way you blush as his compliment.

You stand in line behind Soap with Gaz at your back. They aren't alphas, but it's hard to miss how their presence calms you, and that's without them projecting their scents for you. Simply knowing you aren't here alone, that people are here who have your back, is enough.

next

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Part Five

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his cousins bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

In the early morning, just before the sunlight came in through the balcony, sultry jazz titillated her ears. The AC was cranked to combat the humid climate, and the smell of fresh linen mixed with Shisha tobacco and intense Bourbon Vanilla tickled her nose pleasantly. There's never a dull moment in this Crescent City.

Aaliyah shivered with arousal when Professor Richmond’s long arm circled her waist from behind and pulled her into him. Her plush cheeks collided with his dick that was so hard it reminded her of a metal bat. Her eyes widened a fraction and her soft lips parted, releasing a little breath of arousal. Terry’s warm breath ghosted across the back of her neck. Suddenly, his lush lips grazed the skin of her neck and he started peppering feather–like kisses on her skin.

“Can’t sleep.” Terry whispered.

“Neither can I,” Aaliyah tilted her head back, blinking her siren eyes at him, “All of you is awake.”

Terry chuckled against her bare shoulder. He nuzzled his nose there to inhale her scent.

“Your own fault, mon amour…”

“I’m happy to know that I turn you on…”

Terry raised his head behind Aaliyah to peer down at her. She shifted her body slightly, the white linen soft as it grazed her stiffened nipples. They stared at each other unblinking, too caught up in the moment of being together in such a way. Aaliyah hadn’t imagined it would get this far. She’d teased him, enjoying the push and pull, but never had she expected to end up in bed with him.

And fucked by him.

She was still on cloud nine about their phone sex and that was days ago.

“I bet you are. Now, you belong to me…”

Terry stroked Aaliyah’s cheek with his thumb.

“…And only me.”

“Quite possessive, Professor don’t you think?”

The soft spoken words was something akin to an angel whispering. A harmonic voice so sweet yet so powerful.

“Let’s not do that, Aaliyah. You’ve been on my mind the moment I laid eyes on you. And although you turned me down for that lunch, I would have tried again and again to have you.”

Aaliyah rotated her head away from Terry’s penetrating stare and handsome smirk, suddenly bashful beneath him as he hovered above her. How was it possible to feel the sweltering heat of desire wafting from him? It set off an inferno that she could feel throughout. From her scalp to the soles of her feet. Intensely.

He was a man of his word no doubt. That pleased Aaliyah and made her nervous all at once.

No man has ever made her nervous.

“Look at me…”

Aaliyah leisurely turned her gaze back to him. He sat up on his elbow above her, his biceps flexing beneath the golden glow of the wall sconces with a brass finish. The king sized bed with a black velvet wall panel headboard hadn’t been broken in enough. Terry gave her a silent look that told her without words that he needed her body again.

Terry stroked some of her soft, sleek hair from her face, the strands brushing her shoulder and fanning out against the pillow beneath her. With one hand, he cradled the back of her neck, and with the other he traced the curves along Aaliyah’s lips before tilting down to capture those succulent lips of hers. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, urging for entry. Aaliyah opened for him, her eager tongue gliding over his in a slippery tango. Their heads swiveled back and forth. Terry had a hazy look in his oceanic eyes.

Her pliant legs circled his waist and Terry pressed his stiffness against her soaked lower lips. The mixed heat radiating from between their legs caused Aaliyah’s clit to ache for him. Terry’s dick pulsated like a heartbeat from the softness of her pussy and the slick coating his veiny shaft. The soles of her feet brushed against his sides. Terry’s tongue delved deeper, almost dislocating his jaw. Aaliyah hissed when one of his large hands wrapped around her neck.

She broke their kiss, Terry colliding with her jaw. Aaliyah swayed her head against the restraint, nibbling on her bottom lip from the sensation of his teeth grazing her skin and his tongue tickling her neck. The warm breath from his lips made her squirm and sigh. She was an assertive woman who spent her nights as a cam girl telling men what to do. It was time she got broken down and gave her body over to someone else for a change.

Long fingers appeared between her legs. Terry raised his head above her exquisite face, looking down on her with blazing eyes so caught up in lust for her. His lush lips parted a fraction, giving her a view of his pink tongue and porcelain teeth. Her nipples looked like chocolate–covered gum drops the way they poked out so stiffly. Goosebumps decorated her skin that reminded him of a caramel delight. Whenever Aaliyah became aroused and flustered, the tip of her nose and the tops of her cheeks would deepen in color.

Glossy brown eyes tried to focus on his face but her lids were disobeying her. Terry studied her face like she was the most beautiful art piece he’d ever seen. He shifted his body to rest beside her, propping his body up on his elbow while his free hand played between her legs. Aaliyah spread herself for him, pink pussy glistening.

Terry studied the shape of her pretty pussy, taking note of how her outer lips and inner lips were relatively the same size. Her clit to labia created a wishbone shape and instead of its usual bright pink it resembled more of a coral pink from how aroused she is. He stroked between her inner folds with a single finger, and each time his finger would swipe over her clit, Aaliyah’s hips would jerk in response.

“Mind if I take my time and play in this pretty pussy?”

Aaliyah resulted to shaking her head. Words were lost to her. His manicured fingers felt too good and skillful. His smooth baritone in her ear sent shivers throughout her body. Terry propped up one leg, the movement causing his fully extended and solid dick to bounce. Aaliyah stared at his stick with a stunned expression. Heavy balls acted as a pedestal to keep that heavy dick poked out. The glow of the lights highlighted the veins along his girth and the drizzle of pre cum on his fat tip.

“You’re so hard right now,” Aaliyah whispered with astonishment.

Terry’s mesmerizing eyes dropped down to look at her. He pushed two fingers deep—middle and ring finger—all the way down past his knuckles. Aaliyah sucked in a breath, locking eyes with him. Terry didn’t waste time reaching depths between her walls. A creamy essence coated his long fingers and the sound of his passionate stirring was on full max.

“Mm, you get so messy for me I love it,” Terry spoke softly against Aaliyah’s forehead, “Pussy responding how I want it to…wet and gushy…got my fingers moving in and out so easy…”

Aaliyah pinched and tugged on her nipples. She licked her lips with her jeweled tongue, her eyes focused between her legs.

“Sexy women,” Terry pecked her forehead, “Pussy feel good don’t it?”

“Yessss…”

“This what you deserve…you want me in this pussy all you gotta do is ask…let me know and I’ll make this pussy cum however you want me to…”

Aaliyah’s pussy clenched around his fingers as a reaction to his words. It did things to her knowing he would do whatever it takes to please her.

“…is this an open invitation to come to your office whenever I want you to make me cum?”

“Mhm,” Terry pushed deeper, “No panties…show up ready to cum…like the nasty little slut you are…”

Terry’s movements increased. The faster he went, the harder his palm collided with Aaliyah’s clit. It sounded like he was plunging into a body of water. He had Aaliyah’s pussy sounding like he was splashing in a puddle on a rainy day. Aaliyah released her nipples and Terry bowed down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

Terry’s tip was weeping. Pre cum drizzling down the back of his shaft in a slimy trail. Terry popped his lips off of her nipple when the sensation of Aaliyah’s soft, delicate hand circled his thickness. The thick vein on the underside of his dick pulsated against her palm the more she twisted her fingers. She was right on his spot, just beneath his tip, her thumb brushing across him.

Terry pressed his thumb against Aaliyah’s clit as he finger fucked her. Her wrist went limp and she paused as her body seized up to prepare for eruption. He could see her stomach caving in repeatedly, her eyes watered, her toes flexed. Terry went back to sucking her nipples as he worked the muscles in his arm and hand to bring Aaliyah over the edge.

“Unh…unf…yes…uhhh…Professor!”

Aaliyah’s hips started lifting to meet his fingers. Sweet moans filled the air.

“Oh fuck!” She screeched.

Terry flicked his tongue on her left nipple and his fingers slowed down to a stop inside of her. A puddle of her cum stained the sheets. He gently pulled his fingers out, mouth agape when he noticed they were dripping. He brought them to his mouth, sucking slow.

“Taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a seductive lilt.

“So good, baby…I wanna taste more…”

“All for you to have, big daddy…”

“Big daddy? Is that right?”

Placing himself between her legs, Terry curled his arms around Aaliyah’s thighs. He adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, leaned forward, and ate her pussy like an exquisite meal he would never have again. He didn’t stay on her clit for too long, not wanting Aaliyah to cum so quickly. He wanted her to beg for release. The strength of his arms and the feeling of his muscles cutting into her thighs let her know that she had nowhere to run.

Terry’s tongue sank into her pussy and wiggled. Aaliyah yelped a few times when he licked her with precise flicks of his tongue. She couldn’t grind her hips against his tongue, all she could do was lay there on her back and moan his name while dragging her fingers through his short curls.

She lost the signal to her words when he thrust the thick muscle of his mouth inside of her. Letting it sit there for a moment, he felt tremors take over her body and she whimpered loudly. He groaned at the sound, taking delight in breaking her down to his will. She had denied him long enough. She teased him for far too long. Too many times he’d dreamt of doing this to Aaliyah. Stick his tongue so far up her pussy it almost touched her heart. Make this sexy woman cum on his tongue just because. Give her ass the greatest head she’d ever have in her fucking life.

“Don’t move again or I’ll stop.” Terry barked out.

The bass in his voice made her act right, and her body went limp. At that moment, he was just all mouth, tongue. Aaliyah sat up on her elbows, instantly locking eyes with him. She kept her legs open for him and when he leaned back to admire his work she couldn’t believe how soaked and engorged her pussy looked. Terry licked his lips in one swipe before going back in to slurp her up.

“Fuck, you want me to cum all in your mouth…please, can I cum in your mouth, Professor? Can your little slut cum all over your lips?”

Terry responded with precise sucks that had saliva bubbles gathering around his mouth. Aaliyah couldn’t recall EVER getting head like this. She didn’t know whether to cry or to moan. She settled for both. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and suddenly her inner thighs quaked out of her control.

“Mhm…mhm…”

He knew he was the shit. She didn’t even have to tell him. Aaliyah collapsed against the pillows and her thighs closed around Terry’s head as her second orgasm covered his face the more she suffocated him. She pushed at his forehead but he wouldn’t stop.

“Terry, oh my—”

He was spelling his name on that pussy with his tongue.

The way he forced her thighs open. It hurt so good the way he spread her wide to the point of dislocating her hips. His tongue flicked repeatedly over her fat clit and she couldn’t stop him because he made sure her legs remained wide and limber. He would peek up at her in between licks and Aaliyah would lock eyes with him and each time she tip toed closer and closer to yet another cum.

“Terrryyyyyyy…Unh….”

She wasn’t strong enough to close her legs. His tongue weaved a gluttonous pattern over her pussy until he was content. When he finally stopped, Aaliyah curled into a ball. Terry sat up on his knees with his dick in his hand and maybe it was her brain being foggy from her orgasm, but his dick looked bigger than usual.

Terry didn’t even have to tell her what to do. Aaliyah sat up and crawled to him on weak knees. She arched her back and used her mouth only to wrap her lips around his tip. Terry popped Aaliyah on both cheeks with a delicious sting lingering. He finger-combed her long hair from her face and off to one side. Heavy breathing transitioned into deep grunts. Aaliyah sucked with no hands, jaws tight and eyes on him.

She counted the eight pack leading up to prominent pecs and a face that belonged in a museum. He was so pretty she couldn’t look away even if she tried. She did make use of one hand however. She had a handful of his heavy balls while her mouth worked magic. Terry smoothed his hands up her back and over her ass. His fingers sank into the meaty flesh and then he spread her open from behind. Aaliyah whimpered with his dick sitting at the back of her throat.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Terry spoke softly.

He grabbed her hair in his fist to keep her still while he fucked her throat. Spit left his dick glossy and her face and chest a mess.

“Aaliyah, relax your throat for me…”

She did as she was told. The feeling of him touching her uvula made her gag.

“If only you could see the way this dick fit in your mouth…”

One hand on the back of her head, thrusting into her mouth and whimpering the entire time. Aliyah’s tongue slid around his frenulum, making his tip tingle with pleasure. He continuously dripped pre cum and she cleaned it up with slow licks and those sultry eyes that he could get lost in staring up at him.

“Making that shit nasty.” Terry said.

“This dick belongs to me…all of this…”

Aaliyah played with it in her hand, squelching noises from how wet his dick was loud and clear. His balls sat nice and tight and Aaliyah bent forward to suck on those too. She pumped his fat dick while showing his balls some attention.

Terry’s tongue sat on his upper lip as he watched her. His brows snapped together when she returned to his dick with her eager sucking and slurping. He got in that mouth deeper, shivering when he could feel her teasing giggle around him like a vibration.

“Suck that dick…dassit…so sexy…so sexy, Aaliyah…baby…baby, you’re making me cum…shit is so good…fuck! Damn…damn…OH—”

Aaliyah started focusing on his tip and then she swallowed him whole. Terry cradled her head and bent forward, the repeated gawk–gawk of her mouth had him moaning and calling her all types of vulgar names. He felt his control snap and his cum shot from his tip in heavy droplets all over her tongue and chin.

Terry fisted himself to finish, leaning back on one hand while the other pumped the last bit of nut on her wiggling tongue. His knees were aching so he stretched them out before falling back against the sheets. Sweat clung to his skin and his dick sat over his belly button. Aaliyah snuggled closer to him and instantly sleep overtook them.

————

Sit on that dick

Sit-sit on that dick

Sit-sit on that dick, sit on that dick

Sit on that, sit on that, sit on that, sit on that (Alright, Slash)

Beyond their balcony in the early afternoon, the blare of fast-paced, energetic, and call-and-response style hip hop was jarring. It shook the windows and caused Aaliyah to stir awake. She reached one arm over instinctively, and felt nothing but a vacant space and crumbled sheets. She blinked her eyes open, the hotel room with an old world elegance and modern sophistication surrounding her. Wine red, black, and antique accents decorated the king suite.

Her body felt like she’d been put through the most intense workout of her life. Her muscles spasmed whenever she moved. Her pussy was sore to the touch and her clit throbbed. Love bites and bruises on her hips mingled with the beautiful path of stretch marks etched into her skin. She’d never been fucked within an inch of her life before. She’d never known that seeing stars behind her lids when she reached climax would actually happen to her. Sure, a toy can get you there. Yeah, she could recall an eater or two from her past that lacked in the dick department but made up for it with her cum dripping from their insatiable lips.

Terry was on another level. This man quite literally stunned her. He’s outrageously handsome. There’s no way he could be great in bed AND fine as hell. He can’t possibly have the best of both worlds. Yet, somehow, Aaliyah found her fairytale man. The man you dreamt up to deliver wet dreams. The ones in stories. No, Professor Richmond is the embodiment of every woman’s dream. And he wanted Aaliyah all to himself.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been in bed staring up at the ceiling just thinking about him and playing in her hair all sprung until the sound of footsteps entering the room from the hall had her sitting up in bed. Terry caught her eye with a smirk. He was drenched in sweat, an all white T-shirt with the letters CORE UFC GYM on the front in bold font. He was so soaked that the T-shirt molded against his abs and pecs like fresh plaster. He paired it with black shorts that hugged his thighs and accentuated his quads and glutes. Terry removed his AirPods from his ears and kicked off his sneakers at the door.

“Afternoon, baby. Went for a little workout…”

Aaliyah smoothed out her hair and tried to look presentable. It only caused Terry to chuckle.

“You look absolutely beautiful.”

Terry went in for a kiss, his musky scent spicy in her nose. It was pleasant, but Aaliyah backed away before Terry could even savor a kiss.

“What? Do I stink?”

“No, I didn’t brush my teeth.” Aaliyah replied with a sheepish laugh.

“So?”

Aaliyah climbed out of bed, naked body on full display. Terry watched her pin her hair up with a claw clip and then the sway of her hips as she made her way towards the bathroom. He gave her some space to do what she needed to do while he undressed. The cool air from the room made his skin feel clammy because of the sweat. He tossed his things in a bag before checking his phone.

Nothing special, just emails regarding work and a few texts from his mother letting him know they would be in town soon for the wedding. He texted her back quickly before placing his phone on the charger and making his way towards the bathroom. When he entered, Aaliyah was turning on the shower. It was a standing shower with black tiles and a detachable shower head. It was wide enough to fit both of them comfortably. On the sink, she had her own soap and so did Terry.

“Mind if I join you?” Terry asked as he cracked the door so it wouldn’t get too steamy.

“Not at all. Figured you’d want to anyway.”

Aaliyah placed a shower cap over her hair and entered the shower. Terry stepped in behind her, taking careful steps. He jumped back slightly from the temperature of the water. Aaliyah giggled and Terry sucked his teeth before reaching over her to turn the temperature of the water down.

“Tryna burn my skin off.” Terry fussed.

“Hush,” Aaliyah had an exfoliating cloth in hand and she applied unscented soap to it first, “Wash me.”

“Please?” Terry snatched the rag and gave Aaliyah a teasing look with an arched brow.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

She pouted her lips and Terry couldn’t help but smile at how adorable she looked.

“Aight, face me.”

Terry ran the cloth over her soft, blemish free skin in a circular motion. Aaliyah giggled when he brought the cloth over her ears. He locked eyes with her and then he couldn’t help but to lean in and peck the tip of her nose. He turned her around and tapped her on the booty for good measure.

“Just can’t help yourself.”

“Phat–phat on you and you expect me to behave?”

Aaliyah laughed, “I do, actually.”

“Says you? Baby ima feel up on this ass whenever I want.”

He dragged the cloth down the dip in her spine and over both hefty cheeks. He cleaned throughly, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t do it on purpose. Terry had her cakes jiggling when he washed her off in between. Aaliyah gasped, reaching back to grab his wrist.

“You play too much!”

Terry laughed and it was the most pleasant sound. He smiled with his entire face, making his nose scrunch up. He had the goofiest laugh and it made Aaliyah smile from ear to ear. He gave her a second cleanse with a vanilla bean body wash, the smell permeating the air and it was strong and fragrant.

Terry rinsed the rag and applied some wash for her pussy. Aaliyah watched him reach around from behind and gently scrub her outer lips. Aaliyah tilted her hips back, pressing her butt into his crotch and she grabbed onto his bicep. Terry watched his movements from over her shoulder. When he was satisfied, he rinsed the rag and hung it on the railing of the glass shower door before using his hand to gather water in between her lower lips.

“You ain’t slick.”

“Who said I was being slick?”

Terry’s fingers rubbed slow circles against her clit. Aaliyah responded to his massage with a soft moan. Terry peppered kisses along her wet neck and even licked her there, the smell of vanilla filling his nose.

“It don’t make no gahdamn sense how fucking fine you are…”

He pushed two fingers up in her and Aaliyah rose to her tip toes. Terry is a strong man, he could probably lift her up between her legs with one arm and toss her on his shoulder. She wondered how much weight he could squat and bench press. Aaliyah made a mental note to go to the gym with Terry sometime just so she could see for herself.

“You hear me?”

“Yes,” Aaliyah replied barely above a whisper.

She could feel his big dick twitching against her ass.

“Wet ass pussy…ain’t been in this pussy with my fingers for that long and already you’re soaked…good fuckin’ girl…”

Aaliyah tilted her head back and Terry sucked her bottom lip into his mouth before their tongues slithered. She whimpered against his lips and Terry had to circle her trim waist with his muscular arm to keep her still.

“Aaliyah…”

The way he said her name against her lips. She could have melted. He was so head over heels for her.

“You can’t get enough of me,” Aaliyah spoke against his lips, “I drive you crazy.”

She reached back and captured his hefty dick between her fingers and started stroking. Terry abruptly turned her around with his fingers still inside. Aaliyah used both hands to jerk him while they tongue kissed.

“I ain’t been this pussy whipped ever.”

Aaliyah broke this kiss and pressed her face against Terry’s chest, laughing. He laughed along with her.

“That’s what I want. I want you to be so far gone over all of me, big daddy…”

Terry’s dick responded with quick pulses in her hand and a leaky tip. She gripped his fingers tight and when he curled them to stimulate her spot, Aaliyah could feel her stomach tighten. She was going to cum.

“That pussy cumming, huh?…what you want?”

Aaliyah nibbled on Terry’s chest between moans. He reached around and popped her on the ass. She flinched against him.

“Please, make me cum, big daddy…”

Terry held her close as the feeling became too strong and intense. She had a vice grip on his fingers and she threw her head back, exposing her neck for him to attack with his lips. Her body trembled and eventually she went limp against him. He painted her face with kisses until she was back to herself.

“You have a lot of skill, Sir.”

She had a sleepy look in her eyes. One hand on his dick, she lazily stroked him.

“I aim to please…”

Terry reached for his own cloth and handed it to Aaliyah. She looked down at his hand and couldn’t help but to laugh. She snatched it from his hand and Aaliyah washed Terry down once with Dove sensitive skin soap. She squeezed soap over his chest, watching the suds and the water slide down and over the peaks and valleys of his well–muscled body. She craned her neck to meet his gaze, the cloth in her hand giving his skin the perfect touch. He couldn’t help but to smirk at her.

When she got to his dick—which she saved for last—Aaliyah dropped the cloth over it and broke out in a laughing fit. He was so stiff. Terry shook his head at her silliness before removing the cloth and handing it back to her. Aaliyah grabbed his Salt & Stone body wash with notes of Sandalwood, Cedar, Vetiver, and Cardamom. She repeated her steps and when she got back to his dick, she stood behind him and wrapped a hand around him.

Terry planted his hands against the shower wall beneath the shower head. The water cascaded down his back and over his shoulders and hair. Aaliyah looked like a little person compared to him. She kissed his spine while her hand worked magic. With a twist of her wrist she would go from base to tip. She cupped his balls in her other hand and rolled them gently.

“This a lot of dick,” Aaliyah spoke with a seductive voice, “And all of this is mine? Hm?”

“Fuck, yes,” Terry raised his head, water rolling down his face, “All yours…”

“All mine to suck on?”

Aaliyah squeezed his balls with enough pressure to make his dick bounce in her hand.

“Yes, baby…”

“And to fuck?”

Aaliyah kissed his lat muscles with tender lips that made his hips jerk.

“Fuck on this dick, baby…”

He sounded so sexy. Aaliyah could feel her clit aching from his deep groans.

“I plan to…as soon as we get out this shower…”

Aaliyah let go of his balls and slapped the weight of his dick in her hand. Terry’s back muscles flexed.

“Yeah…nice and hard for me to bounce on…”

“You’re so nasty…” Terry spoke with a quiver in his voice.

She let go of his dick and watched as it swung from side to side. Her pussy was literally convulsing just thinking about him deep inside of her again. Aaliyah left Terry to wash his face and he gave her a look that told her he wasn’t happy about her stopping. He needed her and she couldn’t wait to give her pussy over to him again. She grabbed her towel to do a quick dry but Terry was out the shower and behind her so fast.

“Terry—”

“Shut the fuck up and bend over.”

Aaliyah’s back stiffened at his abrasive voice. She grabbed onto the double sink and stared straight ahead into the slightly foggy glass. Terry bent her over and brought one of her legs up to rest on the sink. He pushed down on the middle of her back hard and snatched off her shower cap. He spread one cheek and with his tip aimed at her wet hole he thrusted up in one motion.

“Terry, what the fuck?!”

Aaliyah felt as if she’d been split open. He grabbed her upper arms with firm hands and drilled her with harsh blows that had her ass moving like a tidal wave and her hair in her face. She reached one hand up and it slid down the mirror, the condensation dripping. She could see his face. Jaw tight. Eyes on her. Chin tucked. Lip between his teeth. Terry let go of her arms and grabbed her waist. He widened his stance and dug in her so deep her eyes crossed.

“Bet you feel that in your gut. Mhm. This how I’m fuckin’ my pussy. Right?!”

“YEAH!” Aaliyah shouted.

“Tugging on my shit,” Terry watched the way Aaliyah’s pussy yanked on him each time he pulled back to the tip, “Gawd…pussy so good…”

Aaliyah’s face fell into the bowl of one of the sinks. Her lips formed a silent ‘O’ and her eyes shut tightly.

“Aaliyah don’t piss me off.”

She couldn’t keep her leg up. And Terry wasn���t having it.

“Aight,” he withdrew his hips and picked Aaliyah up. He sat her on the edge of the sink and positioned her legs over his shoulders while his hands cuffed her ass to keep her steady and on that dick. He locked eyes with her and slipped back inside like he never left. She clawed his chest, grabbed onto the sink, gripped his arms, put a hand around his neck. Nothing stopped him from putting a hurting so good on her pussy.

“Shit! Oh noooo!” She watched his dick go in and out as if she were petrified by how fat and long he is, “I’m a cum! It’s so big! Terry! FUCK! Oh my god…ohh…”

Terry held his face against her neck and pulled her into a tight hug. His hips collided with her thighs with sharp thrusts. Aaliyah circled her arms around his neck and cried into his ear. Her toes curled under and Terry had to pick her up in the air when she almost slipped. Their shared breaths of over exertion echoed off of the bathroom walls. Terry’s entire body burned. He walked with Aaliyah in his arms and his dick buried deep, leaving the bathroom and entering the room again.

Terry placed Aaliyah on her back and continued fucking the shit out of her. Her perky breasts were pointed towards his face and he couldn’t help but suck her nipples in turn.

“Fuuuck,” Aaliyah moaned.

He used her flexibility against her and spread her legs all the way up to where his hands were locking her ankles in place. He dropped down at a measured speed into her pussy with an intense look on his face and deep grunts. A creamy ring formed at the base of his dick and it got so messy that his dick would slip out. He slapped her clit with it and plunged back in.

“You see this? Look at how I’m fucking you, Aaliyah.”

She watched with shiny eyes. Terry delivered quick thrusts before slowing back down. Aaliyah looked up at him and he looked at her with a smirk on his face.

“It’s so much dick…”

“I’m giving you what’s yours. I thought you loved big dick?”

Aaliyah pushed at Terry’s abs. He slapped her hand away.

“You know you wanna squirt on me.” Terry teased.

Aaliyah circled her belly with her arms to fight the feeling that formed in the pit of her stomach. Tears rolled down into her hair and Terry bent down to kiss her lips.

“Cum, baby…just like that…uh-huh,” Terry spoke against her lips, “Come on, my pretty Aaliyah…give daddy all that…that’s my girl…right there…”

Aaliyah sprung a leak. And Terry fucked her through it. He sat back on his knees to admire his work. Her inner thighs were soaked. She drenched his abs. Cream coated her inner folds and leaked to the crack of her ass.

Terry got down and licked her clean.

“Daddy, you didn’t cum yet…”

Terry looked up at her.

“What should we do about that, huh?”

Aaliyah smiled at him.

“Get up here.” She commanded.

Terry made his way onto the bed and on his back. Aaliyah straddled him. She leaned forward and with her eyes connected with his, she fit him inside of her and slowly lowered until he completely fit. Feet flat on the bed, Aaliyah bounced. Terry had a handful of titties as he watched her. Her hair had curled up around the edges, giving her a wilder look.

“Look at you go,” Terry thumbed her clit, “Show me who this dick belong to.”

Aaliyah trapped Terry’s hand to stop him from rubbing her clit. He chuckled, prying her thighs open.

“I don’t see you getting down on this dick. All the way down, Aaliyah.”

She paused, sinking to her knees and arching her back. Aaliyah resumed bouncing, looking back at her ass.

“Ride me. Ride Daddy,” Terry barked, “Fuck yourself on Daddy’s dick. Lemme slut yo’ pretty ass out. I’m a take care of that pussy real good. Anytime, baby.”

Terry slapped the hell out of Aaliyah’s ass. It jiggled with so much force from his large palm. She just knew he left a hand print.

Aaliyah dropped that pussy on him. She leaned forward and rode his thickness like she was bucking on a mechanical bull. Terry whimpered from her pussy clenching and releasing him as she rocked. Her thick cheeks clapped against his thighs and slammed down on his balls. And all he could do was give her ass a pop. His grunts and groans and heavy moans continued the more she fucked him.

“Aaliyah, FUCK…”

She wrapped a small hand around his neck and threw her head back.

“I feel you…inside me…harder…”

Terry couldn’t hold back any longer. He fucked up as Aaliyah came down. His heels dug into the bed, trying his hardest to give her a deep dick down. She bounced with speedy delight, smiling down at Terry between moans.

“YES! Yesyesyesyesyesyes!”

Aaliyah rode his ass through the mattress and Terry planted his hands on her hips.

“I’m finna nut—”

“Cum for me, Big Daddy! All in your pussy!”

“Dammit, Aaliyah—”

Terry came with a hoarse shout and Aaliyah giggled with glee. His dick remained hard after his orgasm. Aaliyah pressed her body against his and raked her hand down his chest while whispering nasty things in his ear.

“You cum so much…I love the way you fill my pussy up.”

Terry sat up and kissed Aaliyah with her in his lap and his dick still inside. Their tongues made a happy dance deep in each other’s mouths. Terry palmed her ass, not ashamed to let her know that he loved it. He was weak for a phat ass.

“I love the way your dick makes me cum…”

Terry smirked against her lips.

—————

After all the sex, Aaliyah and Terry freshened up again and made their way out onto Bourbon Street for lunch. They walked hand in hand, Aaliyah wearing a pair of denim shorts that fit tight and stretched over her ass as if they were painted on. She paired it with some mules with a low heel and a fitted T-shirt that she tied into a knot at the front. She sported a pair of retro shades in a gradient blue color and kept her hair pinned up with a claw clip. As they strolled, her heels click–clacking against the concrete, she swung her small, cyan Telfar bag that matched the floral design printed on the front of her shirt. Large, silver hoops decorated her ears and she kept it simple with a think, silver necklace and silver bangles.

Terry wore a faded, orange T-shirt with his old high school logo printed on the front. Light wash jeans with slight rips were on his lower half, and he pulled the look together with a pair of all white, Nike Air Max 90s. He wore a silver, micro cuban around his neck and a matching silver watch on his left wrist. He too wore shades, a pair of all black aviators.

They settled on Mambo’s, a festive oasis offering locals and visitors alike a re-energizing escape from the strip clubs, cover bands and daiquiri shops outside. Located in the heart of the French Quarter, the welcoming gravity of the towering three-story building invites you to explore what lies beyond its French doors.

A hostess led them to the very top of the building, seating them at a high top overlooking the open patio doors that led to a sunny outdoor eating sanctuary. The sun was shining too bright and the heat was too intense to sit directly beneath it. Zydeco music titillated their ears. Their waiter trickled over after five minutes with an upbeat personality and her hair styled in bright red box braids.

“How ya’ll doin? Welcome to Mambo’s. I’m Dasia. Can I start ya’ll off with sum to drank?”

Aaliyah turned to Dasia, “I’ll have a water with lemon and also…I’d like to try your passion punch.”

“It’s got Bumbu Rum, Don Q & Don Q Passion Fruit with fresh fruit juices. That okay?”

“I’m okay wit’ it.” Aaliyah replied.

“How ‘bout you?”

“A water with lemon as well. And I’ll do a draft beer…uhh…Abita Amber.”

“Okay…ready to order appetizers or ya’ll need a minute?”

“A minute.” Terry responded.

“I’ll be back wit’ ya drinks.”

Dasia walked away as Aaliyah flipped through the menu.

“I definitely want some oysters.”

“We can do that. Know what you wanna eat?”

“I was eyeing this blackened red fish…”

“That looks good,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a po’ boy. A shrimp one.”

Aaliyah crossed her legs beneath the table. Terry reached over to caress her knee. Aaliyah flashed him a smile and blew him a kiss.

“I have to figure out what I’m going to wear to the wedding.” Aaliyah mentioned, swinging a pretty foot beneath the table.

“Terry looked over at her through his lashes, “Need me to buy you something?”

“Maybe,” Aaliyah pushed her shades up to rest on top of her head, “What are the colors?”

“It’s Tiffany Blue.”

“Hmm…maybe I could do a blue dress? But not exactly the same color?”

“That’s a good idea. Would have to search today though.”

“It’s okay. I think I have a dress in mind. My closet is full of clothes for any occasion.”

Dasia returned with their drinks. Terry ordered oysters and decided to wait to order the entrees until they were finished.

“Your parents are coming in town?” Aaliyah asked.

“Yeah, they’ll be here the day before.”

Aaliyah sampled her drink. It was perfectly sweet. Terry sipped his beer, licking his lips after.

“Do you see them often?”

“Nah. Not as much as I would love to. I try to see them twice a year. We talk almost every day though. My dad has health issues, something with his heart. It’s a hereditary thing. My grand father passed away from cardiac failure.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’m sure that’s scary with it being hereditary.”

“It is. That’s why I keep myself healthy and visit my primary care and cardiologist as often as I can. I’m all good though.” Terry reassured.

“Anything you wanna warn me about before I meet them?”

Terry chuckled, “My parents would love you, Aaliyah. You ain’t got nothing to worry about.”

“…do they want grandchildren?”

Terry drank some of his beer down. He gave Aaliyah a one-shoulder shrug.

“They do. They don’t pressure me ‘bout it. One day.”

Aaliyah smiled softly at him.

“Let me try your drink,” Terry held out his hand for Aaliyah to pass her drink over.

She watched him sample her drink and his eye brows ticked up with excitement.

“Oh that’s good. Perfectly mixed. A couple more of those and you gon’ be tore up.”

“Sounds good. But I want shots.”

“Later,” Terry shook his head.

“Whyyyy?”

“Stop whining,” Terry leaned forward to pop Aaliyah on her hip, “You don’t need that right now. When I take you out to dance later you can have all the shots you want.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes and lowered her shades over them. She stuck her tongue out at Terry and he tilted his head at her and curled a finger for her to come closer. Aaliyah leaned in, her ass poked out. If anyone walked by, they would be able to see how the denim fabric outlined the shape of her pussy from the back and how the edges dug into her legs sinfully.

Terry cupped her chin and got so close to her face their noses touched.

“No means no. Fix your face. This the only time I’ma tell you.” Terry warned.

He let go and Aaliyah took her time sitting back. The oysters arrived and she forgot all about Terry’s words when the smell of melted garlic butter wafted her nose. They both tucked into their food after ordering their entrees.

“It’s so quiet. That’s how you know we were starving.”

Terry gave Aaliyah a playful smile, “burned too many calories.” Terry’s shoulders bounced as he laughed.

“How am I supposed to keep up with you?!” Aaliyah whisper–yelled.

“Says the woman that can hit a split from the top of the pole to the floor.” Terry blew out air and rolled his eyes, calling her bluff.

“Shut up,” Aaliyah kicked him under the table.

She finished her drink off and swayed her hips to the music. Dasia sauntered over and offered to give her another drink. Aaliyah happily accepted.

“How much can you squat?”

Terry licked butter from his lips and flashed Aaliyah a handsome smile.

“Depends. If I’m being spotted, about four hundred. Alone? I can do about fifty pounds less.”

“Dayum,” Aaliyah giggled at how loud she said that, “no wonder why you like to pick me up so much.”

Terry’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.

“You somethin’ else, girl.”

“And you love it.” Aaliyah sassed with her light and flirty voice.

“I do.”

Terry reached beneath the table and brought Aaliyah’s feet in his lap. He stroked the tops of her feet while sipping his beer, never taking his eyes off of her.

“You’re so attentive it’s intense,” Aaliyah blinked away from his face when Dasia returned with another drink, letting them know that their food will be out shortly, “You gotta stop looking at me like that, it’s making me wet.” She whined.

Terry stroked his bottom lip with his thumb before biting it.

“Not with those ‘come fuck me’ eyes on you, ma.”

Aaliyah swirled her straw around her drink as she bat her lashes at Terry. The table rumbled from Aaliyah’s phone vibrating with an incoming notification, she grabbed her phone and flipped it over. Terry downed the last of his beer and placed the glass on the table, tapping his chest with the side of his fist after releasing a muffled burp.

“Excuse me…”

Aaliyah appeared bothered by whatever was on her phone. Terry furrowed his brows at her change of demeanor. He watched her exhale and her shoulders collapse.

“Everything okay?”

Aaliyah gave him a phony smile, “Yeah.”

“You look like you just got the worse news of your life.” Terry chuckled, despite his sudden worry for her, “Talk to me.”

Aaliyah seemed to veil her true emotions with yet another beautiful smile.

“Nothing! Just got a reminder about an upcoming exam I have yet to study for. This semester has been kicking my ass.”

From the way the corners of her mouth wrinkled as she reached for her drink, Terry knew that something troubled her. And it wasn’t anything to do with a curriculum.

“You’re almost there, baby. Before you know it, you’ll be a college graduate. Can’t wait to see you walk across the stage.”

She gave Terry a timid smile while swirling her ice around her glass with her straw, “I was ready to give up so many times. You don’t even know.”

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. It’s not about perfect, it’s about effort. You bring that effort every single day in my class and I’m sure in your other classes. That’s where transformation happens. You trusted yourself and now look.”

Aaliyah appeared delighted by Terry’s words and whatever previously attempted to anger her, suddenly disappeared.

“You’re so sweet, Terry. Where have you been all my life?”

“Maybe if I hadn’t moved to Fayetteville I’d still be here. I would have fallen for the majorette girl with the pretty smile and long hair.”

“And I still wouldn’t have made it easy for you.” Aaliyah teased.

“If you ain’t notice by now, I love a challenge.”

Her merry laugh made him laugh.

“Another Abita Amber?”

Terry handed over his empty beer glass and grabbed the new one, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Dasia. Before she could walk away, their food was on its way over on a serving tray. The spices wafted Aaliyah’s nose and her stomach instantly grumbled. Terry had a loaded po’ boy in front of him with perfected deep fried shrimp spilling over the top of the flaky sub roll. He squeezed it with his fingers, a satisfying crunch sound following. Aaliyah forked the flaky red fish and leaned in to smell the garlic mashed potatoes and collard greens.

Terry didn’t waste time eating. His mouth opened wide and he took a big bite out of his po’ boy, mayo painting the side of his lips. Aaliyah reached forward and thumbed away the mess on his face, sucking it off her thumb with a smirk. Terry chuckled at her with so much admiration in his greenish–hazel eyes. He shared some of his shrimp with her and Aaliyah fed him so collards. Two drinks in, and she was already feeling tipsy. She couldn’t help but giggle at anything Terry said.

“What’s funny now?” Terry questioned with an exasperated smile.

“Those big ears of yours.”

“HA,” Terry leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, “So, you got jokes?”

“They’re so cute. I love them.”

“That squeaky laugh you got, sounding like a chipmunk.” Terry quipped.

Aaliyah tossed a crumbled napkin at him that Terry caught in his hand.

“You know you love my laugh!”

“It’s music to my ears, mon amour.”

She beamed at him.

———

The spot they were going to wasn’t far from their hotel but Terry still wanted to drive just in case anything popped off. Aaliyah slid into the passenger seat and Terry shut the door behind her. She decided to wear the same stilettos from their romantic dinner date and she paired it with a skin tight, body con dress that left nothing to the imagination with its sheer, glittery material. Terry had to help her into the dress. Aaliyah painted her lips fire engine red and her hair fell over her shoulders and to the middle of her back. She touched up her edges and added a little pomade to ensure she didn’t sweat them out.

Terry was dressed in a cream colored polo with sleeves that fit snugly around his biceps. The first few buttons were undone, giving a peek at his gold, micro cuban link. He paired it with snug black slacks and black loafers. This random spot they decided on had a dress code of no sneakers, sandals, and athletic wear. Aaliyah had to do some social media digging to find the perfect spot that catered to black people and played black music.

Terry wanted a live band at first but Aaliyah insisted that she wanted to shake ass to trap music and pussy rap. Aaliyah needed some tissue to clean up a little lipstick. She opened Terry’s glove compartment and sitting right before her eyes like a beacon light was a Glock 19. Terry settled into the drivers seat and Aaliyah shut the glove compartment quickly.

Terry glanced over at her, before his eyes fell to the glove compartment. Aaliyah looked at him with a slight smile and nervous eyes. Terry reached over and opened the glove compartment, the pistol right where he’d left it.

“You needed something outta here?” Terry questioned.

“Just some tissue,” Aaliyah replied softly.

Terry shifted things around until he found a box of Kleenex. He handed it over to Aaliyah before tucking his pistol away so it wouldn’t be visible.

“Sorry ‘bout that, baby.”

“It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to see that there.”

Terry started up his car while Aaliyah busied herself with making sure her makeup was perfect.

“If you feel uncomfortable with it there—”

“It’s okay, Terry,” Aaliyah glanced over at him with a laugh, “It’s actually kinda sexy.”

Terry elevated a brow and slowly his lips turned up into a smile.

“I bet you look sexy when you shoot.”

“Don’t boost my ego now,” Terry chuckled, “I could show you sometime? Take you to the range.”

“I always wanted to go.” Aaliyah replied with excitement.

“Then I’ll take you. It’s a date.”

“So, camping,” Aaliyah counted off on her fingers, “The gun range…”

“And many more.”

They locked eyes and Terry reached over to rest his hand on her thigh. He stroked it with his thumb.

“Almost there, about ten more minutes.”

Aaliyah grabbed Terry’s hand and slipped it between her legs. Good thing they were at a red light. He looked at her with a bite of his bottom lip. His fingers grazed bare pussy lips.

“Oh, you’re in trouble. You’re in trouble.”

Aaliyah giggled to herself. Terry was dead serious.

“This dress barely covers that ass and you decide to wear no panties? You serious?”

“I thought I was you nasty little slut?” Aaliyah replied with a bat of her lashes as she twirled hair around her finger with faux innocence.

“I’m a have to keep a close eye on you. Let some nigga find out you ain’t got nothing on up under there.”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun? And I’m yours, remember?”

Terry’s jaw clenched. His hand tightened on the steering wheel. He adjusted his hips in the seat and gave Aaliyah one penetrating look that shook her core.

“Be a brat if you want to, Aaliyah.”

Aaliyah spread her legs to show Terry just how good her pussy looked. He gave in and looked down between her legs. He huffed with a shake of his head.

“What was that about being a brat again?” Aaliyah replied with a teasing smile.

“Damn, that pussy look good…”

“Here,” Aaliyah touched herself and gathered some of her wetness on her fingertips, “You wanna taste?”

Eyes still on the rode, Aaliyah rubbed her pussy juice all over Terry’s lips. He grabbed her hand and sucked on her fingers. Aaliyah watched Terry lick his lips.

“That should hold you over until later. I plan to sit on that pretty face of yours.”

“And I’ll happily be your favorite seat for as long as I’m living and breathing, baby.” Terry responded with a hand to his chest and an enduring smile.

They finally pull up to the nightclub. Some spot tucked away beneath a tangled freeway and overlooking an outstretched parking lot. Cars, trucks, motorcycles; any form of transportation looked oddly placed in various spots with empty spaces in between. Terry reversed into a spot to the left of the entrance.

A lineup of club-goers waited to get inside. Some people lingered on the fringes or smoked whatever enhanced their vibes. Terry hopped out and made his way around to open Aaliyah’s door. He stood in front of her while she took her time raising from her seat since her dress had ridden up. Terry’s dour eyes never left her face. He held out his hand and before Aaliyah could walk away he gripped her hand tighter. Aaliyah watched as Terry checked her out from behind, ensuring that her dress covered her ass. She giggled at his fixed gaze and he popped her on the ass to silence her. Wasn’t shit funny.

Ubers and Lyfts dropping people off at the curb. Two Beefy bouncers checking IDs and turning people away, refusing to argue with them. Each time the doors opened, Strobe lights were pulsing from inside. Terry had a hand on Aaliyah’s waist as he guided her to the back of the line that grew smaller and smaller. Aaliyah’s stomach fluttered when Terry placed her directly in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She peered up at him, a drastic height difference between them even with her heels. He caught her staring and gave her a furtive look with a soft smile. The stiffness of his shoulders and the snug hold he had on her let her know Terry was on go for anybody that so much as looked at her, breathed her air, or touched her.

That brought her back to the bachelor party. The way he almost broke that man’s wrist. The glint in his eyes. The unblinking stare and stolid expression. There was no doubt in Aaliyah’s mind that Terry could do damage. He didn’t play about her. She bounced in his arms, her booty cheeks clapping against his crotch to entice him. She could hear a bounce mix from inside the club.

The line pushed forward and when they made it to the front, Terry released Aaliyah so she could sift through her bag and grab her ID. They displayed it to the bouncers and then the pitch black door opened, a blazing heat billowing out along with the stench of hookah smoke and alcohol. They were ushered inside, Terry’s hand on her back as they disappeared beyond the doors.

Dim lighting.

Black speakers and a stage.

Bars with seating and an area of small round tables and stools.

Waitresses dressed skimpily with glowing trays of drinks or carrying empty bottles and glasses back to the bar.

A row of shot glasses being filled one by one.

Bartenders rushing to keep up with orders.

Bottles of alcohol lining a mirrored wall behind the bartender.

Bins with lemon and lime wedges, cherries, and other garnishes.

Multicolored straws, empty beer cans and bottles, sprayers and beer taps.

Sinks loaded with ice.

Carefully layered drinks in martini glasses.

Coffee mugs and highball glasses.

Spilled drinks on the floor and wet marks on the bar.

A line at the bathroom.

A dance floor packed like sardines and a DJ booth surrounded by men.

Birdman and Lil Wayne– Stuntin’ Like My Daddy had the whole place jumping off. The loud bass and booming speakers vibrated their inner ears as they cased out the spot to find seating. A drunk couple stumbled from a table shrouded in a faint magenta lighting from an overhead lamp. Terry ushered Aaliyah over quickly before anyone else. As they approached, a waitress covered in barely anything sauntered over to snatch up the used Hookah. She noticed Terry and Aaliyah approaching and gave them a smile before doing a quick and effective wipe of the table. Terry dipped his head as a ‘thank you’ before helping Aaliyah into her seat.

Terry settled across from her and leaned in to speak with her over the loud music.

“You want me to get you a drink?!”

“Please!” Aaliyah shouted back, “Two shots of chilled Patron and whatever else!”

“Aight,” Terry left his seat but before he disappeared into the sea of sweaty, dancing people, he gave Aaliyah a look and gestured for her to call him if anything pops off.

“I’ll be fine, Terry! I’ll be right here waiting!”

Terry walked off, gently pushing past people to get to the bar. Aaliyah swayed her hips in her seat, her legs looking shiny and glazed beneath the lights. The song switched up to Gucci Mane- On Deck and as Aaliyah watched the dance floor, she noticed a group of men strolling and throwing up hooks. An eruption of cheers drowned out the music the more they moved in sync.

Meanwhile, Terry was leaning against the bar, his hazel eyes searching. A young woman with sandy brown locs that touched her waist and an all black body con dress on that hugged her plush waist and wide hips made direct eye contact with Terry. She stepped around another bartender to get to him.

“How you doin’ tonight! What can I get you?”

“I’ll take four shots of patron! And uhhh…get me a lemon drop but with patron instead of vodka.”

“COMING UP!”

She winked at Terry before working on his drinks. Terry glanced over towards the table and all he could see was Aaliyah’s legs peeking out.

“Do you need help carrying these drinks?! We can bring it over!”

“Yeah, could you? We’re at that table over there,” Terry pointed out where they were seated, “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! I’ll have one of our girls bring it over!”

Terry gave her a thumbs up before paying cash for the drinks and leaving a tip. Turning, he started cutting through the sea of people until he felt a hand grip his arm. Terry turned and looked down into the eyes of a random chick that he damn sure didn’t know or recognize. Politely prying her hand off, he continued towards the table. Once there, he noticed a man trying to make conversation with Aaliyah.

“Hey,” Terry approached with charged energy, “Can I help you with something?”

The man stood at about 6’0 with an airbrushed hairline and a crudy ‘fro. Fake diamonds dangled from his neck, wrists, and fingers. He wore his skinny jeans below his ass and a graphic T-shirt with a classic rock band he most likely didn’t know a thing about was two sizes too small on him. He sized Terry up with the whites of his eyes red.

“This yours, Playa?”

Terry blinked at the man with a deadpan expression before tilting his head around to check on Aaliyah, a flare in his eyes.

“Did he say something to you?”

“He can’t catch a hint,” Aaliyah replied with furrowed brows.

He could see the tension in her body and the discomfort in her eyes. Terry straightened up and his eyes flicked down at the man, glaring at him. The man somehow began to understand the severity of his situation if he so much as sad another word out of line.

“Off limits, my fault bruh,” He brought his hands up in surrender, “Don’t want no trouble, Big Dude. You got a fine lady. I was just giving her a compliment.”

The man left like a fire had been lit under his feet. Terry’s hard, unwavering eyes tracked the movements of the man until he was nowhere in sight. Aaliyah grabbed him by the hand and stroked his skin. She smoothed her fingers over the protruding veins in his hand and up his arm. Terry finally pulled his gaze away and looked down at her.

“Sit. He’s gone.”

Terry moved leisurely until he settled across from Aaliyah. The same waitress that cleaned the table minutes prior came over to greet them and placed their drinks on the table.

“Thank you,” Terry slid two shots and a lemon drop over to Aaliyah, “Why didn’t you call my phone?”

“He had just shown up when you walked over, Terry.”

Aaliyah grabbed Terry’s hand and leaned forward. She blinked at him slowly while kissing his fingertips.

“Relax,” she brushed his fingers along her cheek and down her throat before fitting his fingers around it, “I’m yours…and you’re mine. I don’t want another man but you…another dick but yours…”

Even over the music loud enough to burst your tympanic membrane, Terry caught on to every word and gripped her neck a little tighter. He pressed his thumb against her pulse point, watching as Aaliyah’s sultry lips parted and a slight gasp echoed across the table.

“I love how crazy your eyes get when you’re ready to fuck a nigga up,” Aaliyah dropped her eyes to stare at Terry’s lips.

“Your fault, baby. I don’t play about you…”

Terry let go and his jaw clenched as he raised a shot glass to toast with Aaliyah. They clinked glasses, tapped it on the table, and drowned it in one gulp. Aaliyah grimaced and Terry’s face remained stern with probing eyes. Aaliyah pressed her lips together and clenched her inner thighs to suppress the throbbing sensation in her clit. She trained her eyes to stay locked on his even through the intensity. His prolonged gaze created a heat that tickled her flesh and the beginning effects of the alcohol didn’t help calm her arousal.

Aaliyah teased her red lips with the tip of her tongue before gliding it between her teeth to entice him. She flicked up a single brow suggestively, letting him know that she was enjoying their little game of staring at each other to see who would look away first. Terry sat back and folded his arms over his chest, his hands gripping his biceps on either side. He cocked his head to the left and his bottom lip slowly dragged between his teeth.

Feeling bold, Aaliyah brought her fingers to the top of her dress, gliding them over the top of her dress. Her girls sat up and a mountain of cleavage teased him. Terry’s eyes slanted, a sign that he was turned on. Aaliyah giggled at his lack of control before revealing her left breast. She glanced around quickly before her eyes were back on him, pinching her stiff nipple before covering herself back up again.

Aaliyah snickered at Terry being slack-jawed.

“I win,” Aaliyah bounced in her seat with glee before bringing her lemon drop to her lips, “Better luck next time, huh?”

Terry gave Aaliyah a debonair smile, “You don’t play fair at all.”

Haha, bitch, I’m big dude

Phew, phew, phew, frrrt

Haha, phew, phew, phew, bitch, I’m big dude…

Terry chuckled at Aaliyah throwing her hands up and giving her seat some attention with that beautiful ass of hers. She moved her hips in a circle and stuck her tongue out. Terry listened to this song often in the gym. The vulgar Memphis Rapper with his cocky lyrics and a nasty beat had the walls rattling. It was banging hardcore and Terry couldn’t help but make his shoulders jump and sway his head in time to the beat.

“Let’s dance!”

Aaliyah was out of her seat and between Terry’s legs in an instant. She spun around and arched her back, plopped down on his lap and rocked her barely covered ass on his crotch. Terry shifted his body to face her from behind and he gripped her hips as he stood. Terry surged his crotch against Aaliyah’s ass with so much force that she almost stumbled forward. Her eyes sought his, and Terry simply smiled at her.

It was hard to really groove with so many people around them but Aaliyah’s gregarious personality and spunky attitude somehow made others clear the way to give her room to pop out. Big Boog’s voice and energy on the trap song had Aaliyah giving Terry a performance he was happy to see but also the possessive side of him clocked the hungry eyes of other men. Aaliyah bent over and grabbed her ankles, gyrating her thick cheeks all on his clothed dick. The weight of her backside colliding with his third leg had him groaning under his breath.

The distant voices ehoing dayum and whew shit had Terry craning his neck to see who was speaking on his woman and her acrobatic skills.

His. Terry loved the sound of that.

She tossed that ass back on him and he made sure his dick remained tucked between. His big hands had a vice grip on her hips. Aaliyah lifted, turned, and shimmied her hips to fix her dress. She pressed the front of her body against his and Terry rocked his hips to match hers. Reaching around, Terry double cuffed Aaliyah’s booty and she brought her hands to his waist.

Her hips started moving in a slow whine and Terry pressed his forehead against hers with a slight smirk painted on his lush lips. Already he could feel himself sweating. The DJ switched back to some bounce music and Aaliyah jumped back into an energetic twerk that Terry could keep up with. Aaliyah had her hands on her knees and made that ass clap at an uptempo that had Terry bending his knees to thrust his hips against her.

Everyone on that dance floor were practically body to body. Cheap cologne, fruity perfume, Paul Masson, sweat, and not so pleasant aromas circulated the humid air. The strobe lights covered the entire club in blue light. Terry placed his hands on Aaliyah’s shoulders while she continued to pop that pussy on him. She looked back at him, hair in her face, drenched, and her dress past her ass. She stood tall and made her cheeks bounce and Terry grabbed onto her wrists, holding her hands in the air.

“You’re the best fuckin’ dancer I ever seen,” Terry licked the shell of Aaliyah’s ear, “Got that shit moving.”

“Glad you can keep up with me, Professor.”

The music slowed down after a few more mixes and Twista-Wetter started playing, some people cleared the dance floor and returned to the bar while others went on a restroom break. Terry led Aaliyah closer to their table and then her turned her back towards him. One hand slithered around and pressed between her legs while the other stroked her waist. Aaliyah followed his two-step, her eyes closed as the lyrics started.

callin' ya daddy, daddy

Can you be my daddy, daddy

I need a daddy, daddy

Won't you be my daddy, daddy

Come and make it rain down on me

Come and make it rain down on me

“I want another drink.” Aaliyah said.

“Me too,” Terry wrapped an arm around her waist, “But damn…you feel good against me. I don’t wanna move.”

Thankfully, the waitress responsible for their table was heading over. Terry ordered four more shots and another lemon drop. Aaliyah dipped her body low on to the floor, her hand gliding down Terry’s abs and over the tent in his pants. She gabbed onto his thighs and stared up at him while bent at the knees.

“Get up here,” Terry said, his eyes low from the contact high he was experiencing from the weed.

Aaliyah cupped her hand over his hard dick and pinched his shaft on either side, testing how rigid he was. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ and she flicked her eyes up at him.

Terry mouthed, “Get up.” As a warning.

Aaliyah giggled as she stood, Terry reaching around to pop her on the ass. The waitress returned with their new drinks and they took a seat again, drinking until they were both buzzed enough. Terry watched Aaliyah dance for him when the music switched up again. His little performer. He could tell from her unsteady gaze and sloppy movements that she was good and tipsy. Terry came to the rescue with her purse in hand and left money on the table before leaving with Aaliyah safely in his arms.

———-

Ding.

Terry stopped Aaliyah as they stepped off of the elevator and onto their floor. Dim lighting from the chandelier above them created shadows across their bodies as they walked. Aaliyah began to complain about her feet, so Terry stopped her. He crouched down and started removing her shoes, kissing her inner thighs for good measure. Back on his feet, he carried her shoes and when they finally reached their door Aaliyah used the keycard.

Terry held the door open while Aaliyah made her way inside.

“Drink some water,” Terry handed Aaliyah a water bottle, “and take your clothes off.”

“We fucking?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Whatchu think?”

Aaliyah drank the entire bottle of water down before tossing the empty bottle in the trash. She removed her hoop earrings and placed them on the table next to her bed.

“Help me out,” Aaliyah pinned her hair up and made her way over to Terry, “Undress me please.”

Aaliyah positioned herself in front of the mirror and Terry crept up behind to help her out her dress. His finger tips tugged her dress over her shoulders agonizingly slow, his eyes trailing a path down her spine. Aaliyah slipped her arms out and Terry helped her get it past her hips.

“You think you have the energy to go all night?” Terry questioned as he stared at Aaliyah through the mirror.

“I’m willing to test that out.” Aaliyah replied, glancing up at Terry over her shoulder with a playful smile.

Aaliyah turned to face him, taking off his shirt. Terry raised his long arms above his head and his shirt went up and over and to the floor. His gold chain sat against his pecs and Aaliyah started unfastening his pants. Terry kicked off his shoes and then his eyes locked with Aaliyah’s as she dug her fingers into the waistband of his pants and briefs, pulling both down in one motion. He kicked out of them and then removed his socks.

“You’ve managed to give me a perfectly romantic weekend. A first for me.”

Terry brushed his knuckles across Aaliyah’s cheeks before cupping her face, “Because you’re so special…”

Terry adored Aaliyah. A sudden timid silence filled the space between them and Aaliyah dropped her eyes as she smiled.

“Look at me, pretty baby…”

Aaliyah met his gaze and Terry’s hands fell to the back of her thighs.

“You know I gotta fuck the shit outta you and make you take this dick like a big girl for having my pussy out tonight, right?”

A gasp escaped her lips as Terry lifted her up and Aaliyah circled his waist with her legs. One hand on the back of her head, arm around her waist, he carried her over towards the patio doors. There was only one lamp light on, half of the room pitch black and the other ignited. Aaliyah circled her arms around his shoulders.

They kissed with teeth clashing, tongues touching, and lips sucking. Terry’s dick kept bobbing up and down, smacking Aaliyah against her fat lips. Terry’s lips attacked her jaw, her throat, and her chest. While he sucked her nipples, Aaliyah started bucking her hips against his stiffness.

“You want me to fuck you like this? For everyone to see? Huh, nasty girl?”

“Yes!”

“Oh? That was an eager response,” Terry kissed Aaliyah again, “Let’s see if this pretty pussy can handle it.”

Terry used his immense power and with one arm he lifted Aaliyah sideways so he could use his other hand to point his leaky tip between her pussy lips and in that good, wet hole. A creamy noise filled the room when his tip finally made its way inside and down to his balls. Terry wasted no time fitting Aaliyah down on that big daddy dick. Her ass smacked against the glass and her heels dug into his lower back. Terry flexed all the muscles in his body to slam up into her.

“SHIT DADDY!”

Aaliyah’s back pressed into the glass and Terry kept her legs wide open the more he buried himself inside. He formed a frown on his face and his brows pinched together. He looked riled up and Aaliyah could feel it all.

“Babyyyyyyyyyy…” Terry moaned.

“That pussy good?” Aaliyah responded between soft whimpers.

Terry molded his lips into hers.

“So fuckin’ good. You’re makin’ a mess on this dick, girl,” Terry spoke against her lips, “wetting this dick up, baby. Got my shit so hard…baby, I can’t stop fucking you…”

Aaliyah couldn’t handle the way his oceanic eyes looked at her. She stared down at his good pipe going in and out of her creamy hole with a perplexed look. No matter where her eyes went, she was spellbound by his hypnotic eyes or his thick, long dick. An airy sigh escaped her mouth when he started beating it up at a pace that had her toes curling.

His big, strong body had her sandwiched between the glass and his rock hard torso. Their mingled sweat mixed with the smell of her wet pussy clouded her senses. Terry had his hands planted on the glass, her shoulders draped over his arms, and his hips a never ending piston. Her languid eyes locked with his and he gave her a jeering smile. He was so fucking fine it was unfair.

“Oh…Terry…oh, Terry…oh shit…right there…make me cum…Terry…Terry…Terry—”

Aaliyah gave his chest weak slaps and the back of her head bumped the patio door behind her. Her thighs squeezed his hips painfully and her eyes crossed.

“Good girl, that’s how you cum on this dick.”

Terry kissed Aaliyah, his lips ravishing her mouth while the aftershocks of her orgasm settled. He wasn’t finished with her yet. Terry held her tight and then he opened the patio doors. He placed Aaliyah on her feet and turned her, leaning her over the railing. It was loud enough below from the all the commotion and their patio light wasn’t on.

He slid in from behind and Aaliyah looked back at him with a quizzical expression. Terry slipped his fingers through her hair, gripped the high density strands, and started delivering precise thrusts. Anyone in the rooms beside them could walk out and catch them. A bystander from below if they were close enough could hear their bodies moving.

Terry couldn’t get off that pussy if he tried. The mixture of shock and lust on Aaliyah’s pretty face was yet another weakness. Her soft ass thrown back on him. The way she took his dick, all of his dick. Her sweet moans in his ear.

“Work this pussy, daddy!”

Terry covered her mouth and blew her back out further. His sweat fell over her back and his muscles ached.

“Daddy got you baby…uhhuhhh…such a good girl…”

Terry almost came with the way Aaliyah’s walls gripped him with her release. As he pulled out, Aaliyah squirted on his dick and all over the patio floor. Terry’s forehead fell against Aaliyah’s back and she let out an exhausted laugh. Aaliyah spun around and dropped to her knees to clean her mess off. Terry flashed her a tender smile while she throated his dick.

Aaliyah popped her lips off and rotated her head to drag her lips along the sides of his shaft to clean up her cum. She even dipped her head lower to slurp on his balls. His nuts drew up tight and the veins along his shaft engorged with blood. A familiar tickle behind his navel alerted him that he was ready to cum.

No. Terry needed to be inside his pussy again. He needed to cum in his pussy.

He gained enough strength to pick Aaliyah up bridal style and walk with her back inside.

On the bed, Aaliyah sat up on her side and Terry got behind her, lifted one leg, and entered her gushy pussy again. His fingers strummed her clit as he sucked on her neck. Aaliyah kept her leg in the air for him. He slowly fucked her and brought her to climax again.

“I love the faces you make when you cum all over this dick…”

“It’s so big inside me…I can’t stop cumming on it…”

“Good,” Terry thrust into her and held his dick there.

“Fuck,” Aaliyah trembled, “So fuckin’ thick in my pussy…”

“I know baby…I know…”

“You must want me to feel it all week,” Aaliyah released a moan and met Terry’s searing eyes. She crooked her head and puckered her lips. Terry captured her soft lips with wet smacking and spit swapping, “Oh, shit…”

Tears rolled down and over her nose. Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip. Terry would slowly withdraw his hips and then push back into her to the hilt with a sharp thrust. He leaned over her to watch her face.

“Terry, fuck,” Aaliyah was drooling on the pillow, “Baby you gotta take some outtttt…”

Aaliyah tried to scoot away. Terry pinned her down beneath him and as soon as he put her ankles over his shoulders he had his fists rammed into the mattress and his hips working to fuck her good. Aaliyah tried to close her legs, Terry growing hostile and pinning her ankles back.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Aaliyah pushed at Terry’s chest, “So much…dick…fuck…”

Terry smacked her hands away and gave her a pointed look, “Aaliyah…please keep still before you make me mad, baby.”

His words were soft spoken but the way he looked down at her from that angle, repeatedly clenching his jaw, Aaliyah didn’t have a say in the matter. Terry was back inside of her like it was his second home.

“Keep your hands down…do what I say, Aaliyah.” Terry warned.

His stern voice and killer strokes had Aaliyah crying.

“Why you fuckin’ me like this?” Aaliyah questioned with passionate concern, “Why you fuckin’ me like this, Daddy?”

Her head extended back and Terry almost lost his damn mind from the pressure around his dick when her soft, inner folds began to pulsate. He lost all control of his neck and his head fell forward against Aaliyah’s shoulder.

“Fuck, ima cum so deep in this shit…”

“Unh! Uh! Oo! Oh my god! Terry!”

Terry hissed with his final strokes. He dropped down and painted Aaliyah’s walls white. His arms shook and he had to roll over before he fell on top of Aaliyah and crushed her. Terry mushed his face against her sweaty neck and brought his hand between her legs. With two fingers, he pushed them inside of her to feel his cum.

Aaliyah was spent. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“You did so well, good job baby,” Terry kissed along her sweaty skin, “Wore me out…”

Aaliyah mumbled something Terry couldn’t decipher.

“Wanna take a bath?” Terry asked with a tired voice.

“Mhm…”

Terry opened one eye to look at Aaliyah. He stroked her hair from her face. She opened her eyes fully and turned her head toward him. A smile spread across her face.

“You complete me.” Aaliyah spoke so low.

“I complete you?” He repeated.

“Mhm. Me,” Aaliyah pointed to her naked chest, “And you,” she pressed the same finger against Terry’s chest, “We go together.”

Terry laughed joyfully, “Yeah? Boyfriend and Girlfriend?”

Aaliyah simply nodded her head with her eyes closed and a faint smile.

They rested in the bed for another thirty minutes before Terry finally got up to start the bath. He ran a warm bath and let Aaliyah relax for a bit. Back in the room, Terry lifted her up from the bed and brought her in the bathroom. He carefully placed her in the tub and then positioned himself behind her. Terry washed her and pressed kisses against her cheek.

Holding her in his arms, he couldn’t ignore the feeling. The intensity. He wanted and needed this woman.

———

It was a cooler day on Sunday. Aaliyah took a nap in the passenger seat of Terry’s hellcat. She was scrunched up in a ball, frizzy hair flying into her face from the afternoon air billowing in through the windows. Terry rolled to a stop in front of her shotgun house and turned his car off. A crisp, white T-shirt with a pair of bootcut, light wash jeans was his attire. Aaliyah shifted and then she peeked her head out from beneath the hood of Terry’s all black hoodie.

“Wake up sleeping beauty. Home sweet home.”

Aaliyah stretched and rubbed her eyes before staring at her home awaiting her arrival.

“Do I have to?”

She poked her lip out at Terry. He stroked it with his thumb.

“I don’t have anything to do I can come in.”

Aaliyah’s face lit up, “Oh, please, won’t you keep me company?” She asked with a deep, southern drawl.

Terry laughed, “Anything for my pretty baby.”

“You love me too much—shit.”

Aaliyah clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled with embarrassment. Terry pinched the bridge of his nose and cracked a smile.

“That just…sorry,” Aaliyah slapped her forehead, “I meant to say…like. Oh god—”

“Aaliyah, chill. It’s okay.”

She covered her face with her hands and Terry unbuckled his seatbelt so he could lift her up and over into his lap.

“I’m falling for you deep, baby…ain’t nothing wrong with what you said.”

Aaliyah sat her chin on Terry’s shoulder.

“I’ve never been treated like this…ever.”

Terry stroked her back with his hand.

“I want you to let go of the past. I’m here to show you that you deserve love, Aaliyah…you’re an amazing woman.”

“You really don’t care that I shake my ass for a little cash?”

Terry shook his head and chuckled, “NO.”

“I’m nervous, about the wedding…”

Aaliyah sat back and looked down at Terry. He furrowed his brows with concern.

“If you think I’m gon’ sit back and let anybody talk disrespectful about you…”

Terry tilted her chin up. He closed the space between them and gave Aaliyah a slow tongue kiss. When Aaliyah broke the kiss first, Terry stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s get outta this car.”

Aaliyah crawled back into her seat and Terry exited the car. As he got out, he noticed a woman standing across the street, peeking at him from behind a light pole. Her hair was all over her head and she was dressed in a loose fitting flannel shirt with an equally ill–fitting faded dark green T-shirt beneath it. She wore denim cut offs and flip flops. Beneath the changes that living on the street can do to you, Terry could see that she was once a gorgeous woman.

“Terry…”

Aaliyah followed his gaze and when she realized where he was looking and who he was looking at, her entire body became stiff and her face fell, becoming expressionless.

The woman finally stepped out from behind the light post. She wrapped the flannel around her narrow waist as if she were exposed. Glancing both ways cautiously, she stepped down from the curb and walked over towards them. Aaliyah jumped into action, walking around the car with brisk movements. Terry didn’t intervene, but he kept an eye on the woman and around him. He could tell from the shifty look in her eyes that she was watching out for an unwanted guest.

“Mama, I thought I said you can’t come around unannounced?” Aaliyah fussed.

“I know, I know, I–I saw your car in the driveway. I know it’s–I’m only askin’ because I owe some money—”

“Stop,” Aaliyah didn’t have the energy to go back and forth with her mother, especially when she had such a great time with Terry, “You can’t keep showing up with your hand out. I gave you money. I refuse to continue funding your habit.”

“Aaliyah, please,” her mother grabbed onto her hand, halting her from leaving, “I know I’m no good. I know you hate me. But if I don’t pay him back, he gon’ kill me.”

Terry stood taller when he heard those words. He made eye contact with Aaliyah and he could see the inner battle between wanting to help her mother and setting boundaries. He approached them, her mother watching him with paranoid eyes.

“Who you?” She questioned rudely.

Aaliyah crossed her arms over her body and hung her head in shame. Terry glanced at her before returning his attention to her addict mother. She licked her cracked lips with uneasy eyes.

“My name is Terry. I’m Aaliyah’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Aaliyah appeared miffed that Terry introduced himself to her mother as her boyfriend. She remained stiff and icy despite the sweltering heat in Baton Rouge.

“Didn’t know you had a lil’ friend, baby…nice to meet you.”

Her mother scratched her neck, a nervous tick. She tried adjusting her attire in front of Terry, a despondent expression on her face.

“Likewise, ma’am.” Terry replied politely with a faint smile.

“Hope you treating my baby girl with some respect and love. She deserves it,” her mother sought out Aaliyah’s eyes with her sorrowful ones, “I know I ain’t been the best mother…”

“Yes, ma’am. I plan to.”

Her mother nodded her head, eyes shifting from left to right. Terry looked at Aaliyah again, a feeble smile on his face as he caught her eyes.

“Listen,” Terry reached into his back pocket, pulled out two, crisp hundreds, and held it out for her mother to take, “Will this take care of it?”

Aaliyah snapped her head up, “Terry? Don’t—”

Her mother went from dispirited to elated in a matter of seconds. It sickened Aaliyah to her core.

“Thank you,” her mother snatched the bills from Terry’s fingers so fast she could have ripped them. An artificial smile spread across her chapped lips, revealing missing teeth, “bless you, bless you, baby. Thank you for this,” she pressed the money against her chest, “Look out for Aaliyah, wil you?” She kissed the money and started backpedaling.

Aaliyah was furious.

“Aaliyah, I’m trying—”

Aaliyah was halfway to her house. She stomped up her steps and fumbled with her keys. Terry watched her mother rush off wiping her tears away with her dingy shirt. Terry took long strides towards Aaliyah’s house, skipping steps as he entered her home. He followed the sound of dishes and cabinets shutting. Terry entered Aaliyah’s kitchen, carefully approaching her from behind while she busied herself with putting away kitchenware from her dishwasher.

A gloomy silence hung in the air between them. Terry stood behind Aaliyah, allowing his presence to cover her with warmth and protection. Aaliyah shut the door to the dishwasher and gripped the edge of the counter. Since she hadn’t been home, the house felt stuffy and hot. Aaliyah stepped back and lifted Terry’s hoodie up and over her head. A thin, spaghetti strapped tank in light gray was revealed. It matched her gray leggings.

Terry took the hoodie from her. Aaliyah had her head turned away, hiding her face from him.

“I’m sorry.” Terry spoke.

“You should have let me handle it.”

“I know it ain’t my business…I couldn’t shake the fear in her eyes.”

“She’s an actress,” Aaliyah said sarcastically as she turned to face him fully, “She played you like she played me plenty.”

Aaliyah laughed despite her growing frustration.

“She’s been lurking around my house all weekend. I have surveillance cameras all around my house and I kept getting alerts to my phone with her knocking on my door and peering in my windows.”

“That’s why you looked like that when we went out for lunch yesterday.” Terry said.

“I didn’t want to talk about it. My mama is a trigger for me.”

For once, Terry didn’t have the words. He felt he’d crossed a line with Aaliyah. Things were still so fresh for them.

“I’m really sorry, baby,” Terry extended his hand to grab Aaliyah’s.

She stared down at their connected hand and the way Terry stroked hers with his thumb.

“…My mother will never change,” A single tear rolled down her cheek, “And I’m so embarrassed that this had to be the first time you two meet.”

Aaliyah slipped away from Terry and out of the kitchen. Terry leaned against her octagon–shaped kitchen island with deep–green marbling, white hued veining, and a polished finish. It matched the surrounding counter tops in her small and intimate kitchen. Terry found himself traveling down her narrow hallway that led to her bedroom.

Aaliyah was crying on her bed covered in clothes. She hid her face against her pillow. Terry tapped the open door with his knuckles. Aaliyah’s sniffles silenced and she looked up at him. She sat up, wiping the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

“Can I come in?”

Aaliyah replied with a nod.

Terry stepped over the threshold that separated him from the hallway and her. He kicked his shoes off and not wanting to sit on the bed with his outside clothes, he took off his jeans. Terry walked around her canopy bed and pulled the black drapes back before crawling onto the bed. He settled on his side next to her.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Aaliyah. But I’m here to listen…”

Terry couldn’t fight the urge to stroke away her tears with his thumb. Aaliyah’s wet lashes blinked at him as she rested on her side facing him.

“Blue magic and Luster’s Pink Hair Lotion…”

A crease formed between Terry’s brows as he waited for Aaliyah to speak again.

“Isoplus Oil Sheen…I can still smell it…taste it almost. My childhood memories. It just…reminds me of how exciting it used to be sitting in the kitchen the night before Easter Sunday. My mom would have the radio on and I would be sitting in her designated styling chair while she put a hot comb to my hair. I wanted to be a hairdresser like her…”

Aaliyah continued, “I was so amazed at the hair shows. Blown away by my mama’s talent. You couldn’t tell me shit ‘bout my mama…she was everything to me…but then my daddy died…and…that light in her just…burnt out. Despite the way she allowed her depression to neglect me…the one thing that made me so angry with her…was when our home got taken away and she…she let them people throw away our memories. All the pictures…all the CDs…all my toys…all the hair products…I resented her then. Wild, right?”

Aaliyah’s red–rimmed eyes sought out Terry’s. Somehow, seeing her cry made his eyes sting as tears threatened to fall. He blinked rapidly to control it.

“Nothing can help her? Not rehab? Not family?”

“She exhausted rehab. My family disowned her. For a while I’ve been the only one to look out for her. Like I’m the mother,” Aaliyah released a furious chuckle, “And nothing I did meant anything to her. I’m so tired. And it hurts me because I want better for her. I miss her. But I just…Terry, I can’t do it—”

“It’s okay, Aaliyah. It’s okay…You’ve done all you could, baby. I wish she didn’t fail you…C’mere…”

Aaliyah buried her face against his T-shirt and as she cried, the scent of his fresh linen and sweat felt like comfort. His bulging biceps hugged her and he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

“I don’t want you to feel ashamed or embarrassed. If anything, she should…”

Terry kissed the top of Aaliyah’s head.

Aliyah hiccuped between cries. Terry let her release it all, uncaring that the front of his shirt was soaked. Her warm breath against his chest felt good and if he could remain silent and calm with her forever like this he would. Terry glanced down at her after some time and she was asleep against his chest. The crying exhausted her. Plus, from their weekend filled with sex, eating, and drinking, Aaliyah didn’t have proper sleep. Neither did he. Terry checked the time on his bronze and black Movado Watch with a gold plate and a cognac leather strap.

It was a little past five in the afternoon.

Terry eased from Aaliyah’s bed and covered her with her sheets. He left her to rest while he decided to look through her fridge for anything to cook for dinner. He opened her pantry and found some golden potatoes and in her fridge he found some andouille sausage. Opening her freezer, he noticed a pack of boneless, skinless chicken thighs. While his pretty girl slept her worries away, Terry made his way around her kitchen with his tear–stained T-shirt and Calvin Klein’s.

Smothered potatoes with chicken and smoked sausage was on the menu.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r @kanafunee @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @dremmmm @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @playgurlxoxo @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[ghostaholics]

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader

➸ CHOKING: he doesn't squeeze that hard – just applies enough pressure the way you like it until that familiar glassy-eyed expression falls over your face, something lust-addled; he always uses his left arm, the one that's all tatted up, consists of intricate pieces he's collected over time until it's formed an elaborate black and white collage that’s inked into his skin – he enjoys seeing how you try to enclose two hands over the entirety of his muscled forearm but can't quite round off the circumference of it, not even trying to get him to pry his grip from your throat, but to keep him there and occasionally prompt him for a little bit more constriction if you need it (❝ Look so fuckin' good like this, don’t you love? ❞)

➸ FAVORITE POSITIONS: anything that can get him as deep inside you as possible, bottomed-out so that he can watch you take every thick inch of him which includes, but is not limited to

(1) mating press or any other variation of it – basically an aggressive 'missionary-style' that gives him the advantage of pile-driving into you, will try to ease your legs onto his shoulders for as long as you can handle it; also likes this because he can still see your eyes roll back in between thrusts when he just grinds into your cunt for a bit while he takes a break and plays with your clit (❝ Greedy cunt's just swallowin' me whole, innit? ❞)

(2) face-down, ass-up - has to pull on your hair a little so you bring your head up to make sure your mouth's not muffled by the pillow (he needs to hear each long, drawn-out moan he can get from you every time he brushes up against that special spot inside you); very primal and powerful, allows him the opportunity to see the arch of your back like this while he's gripping onto your hips for leverage but it's also just so fucking tight and deep (❝ You can take it all, can't you, sweetheart? Yeah, that's my girl. ❞)

➸ DIRTY TALK: typically more reserved in day-to-day conversation, had to work up to being vocal in the bedroom, which now consists of a diverse mixture of low groans, lots of swearing (fuck, shite, or whatever other word that accurately expresses everything he's feeling when he hasn't got a single coherent bloody thought at the moment), as well as any filth like

❝ Gotta stretch you out – work you open on my fingers… Y’know it’d be a shame to wreck this tight, little cunt before I’ve had my fill. ❞

❝ Can’t wait ‘til you milk every last drop of cum from my cock, love. ❞

❝ Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please.’ Let me hear you beg for it. ❞

❝ Christ, I’m gonna flood this fuckin’ cunt. ❞

❝ Do I look like I’m done? Lettin’ my cum leak out… I don’t think so sweetheart. Gotta fuck it back into you now. ❞

❝ Again – love, I'm not stopping until I get another one outta you. So be a good girl and fuckin' come for me. ❞

➸ SPITTING: has a few places he’s fond of; will lift up his mask just above his mouth in order to make it happen

(1) in your mouth, tongue held out in anticipation – he discovers that you’ve got a thing for spit play after a particularly hungry and feverish kiss that has him starving for you, swallowing down your moans, and when he pulls away there’s sort of a wet, glossy little sheen left behind on your lips that you run your tongue over; so, you ask him if he can spit in your mouth because you feel like you need more than just a kiss – he obliges because it reminds him of his cum on your tongue after he asks you where you want him to finish sometimes

(2) on your pussy – absolutely no valid reason for this other than the fact that he really likes rubbing his spit into your cunt and watching it mix with the slickness in between your legs just to make an even bigger mess than the one that’s already there

(3) in his hand, covering his palm – uses it to coat his cock with a few passes over the length of it with his fist, a few harsh tugs at his shaft and a smear of his precum at the head; doesn't really have to because you're wet enough (still wishes he had the opportunity to get you completely fucking soaked, except the circumstances won't allow it), but he's pressed for time, knows it won't be better than the natural lubrication of your own arousal and doesn't care too much since the idea of it makes him that much harder right before he slides on home into your cunt

➸ EATING YOU OUT: he loves it, needs it; heaven between your legs, groans whenever he gets a taste of you, can't resist grabbing handfuls of your ass to bring you impossibly closer to his mouth, tongue flattening and stroking and licking its way into your cunt as you rock down, hips rolling, squirming under the iron-clad grip he's got on your thighs – craves the hot slick rushing out of you, doesn't want to waste a single drop but can't control the way your orgasm liquefies into a sticky and clear wetness that paints his lips and his chin (❝ C’mere. Gonna have you make a mess on my face. ❞ )

➸ DACRYPHILIA: when you're wrought with overstimulation, so, so sensitive after he's ripped the first few orgasms from you – tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a stinging, burning sensation growing in your throat as you try to tamp it down until the first wayward drops of brackish water escape, rolling over your cheeks unsolicited not because the sex hurt but because it was too good and you can't sort out the knotted tangle of emotions you harbor for simon; he asks in a rough and hoarse voice if you're okay, brushes the tears away in a questioning gesture with scarred knuckles until you admit exactly what the cause is, which elicits a deep moan from him signaling that he might just give you another reason to cry

➸ TEASING: rubs the head of his cock against the entrance of your awaiting cunt, back and forth, slowly, just so he can hear you whining impatiently for him to put it in because you hate the feeling of being empty; maybe you should ask nicely, try being polite – it might be the solution to putting an end to your misery

[goonmieser1069]

Lieutenant!Simon “Ghost” Riley, who isn’t a fan of his sargeants actions.

“Why th’ hell woul’ you do tha’ Sgt?! ar’ you bloody insane???”

Was all you registered throughout the practical growl coming out of the man barreling towards you. The looks of fear radiating off the Privates that had the bad luck of being present in the same hallway as you and the brute stomping towards you.

Your eyes quickly met with his as you furrowed your brows. You could see the snarl through the thin balaclava if you couldn’t already see he was fuming from the looks of sheer fury in his deep brown irises.

Any and all of the poor Privates left in the tight hallway scurried away upon seeing the angry man. Eyes narrowed and blonde brows knit together, his voice low as he snarled at you.

“wha’? You think you’re fuckin’ invincible or something? Tha’s it?”

He barked at you, mud soaked boots stopped short just inches away from you. Fist balled, knuckles almost white as you felt the building practically shake when it collided with the wall near your head.

What you would see of his face was beet red, sweat mixed with the black paint around his eyes under the mask. Jaw tense, snarling at you each time he spoke.

Barely registering his words you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose shutting your eyes tiredly. Your voice was dull while you spoke any way you could to ease the anger.

“Lt. orders are orders…I can’t just directly disobey the commands base gives me.”

He shook his head ferociously at your words, pacing around you like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

“Tha’s bullshit an’ you know it.”

He spoke dangerously, the tank of a man stopping his pacing and jabbing a finger into your chest harshly. His massive gloved hands balling your uniform into his fist.

“So wha’? You can jus’ disobey my orders instead? Real fuckin’ peachy Sgt.”

You weren’t sure if you imagined it or not, a flash of grief coming across his features. The anger replaced with something, something you couldn’t name for a half a second before it returned ten fold although now he looked utterly defeated.

He let go of your uniform, shaking his head like he was talking himself out of saying something he didn’t want to admit. Turning his back away from you voice low, the words coming out of his mouth hoarsely.

“Don’ know wha’ I would’ve don’ if you died.”

He muttered before stomping away, his steps harsh against the concrete floor as you stood in place. Mouth slightly agape trying to process what the hell just happened.

[winwintea]

on my bike

PAIRING ↬ ghost rider!lee jeno x fem!reader (feat. yu jimin/karina)

TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, angst, hidden feelings, best friends to lovers au, marvel au, ghost rider au, superhero au, antihero jeno potentially, reader is actually a mutant named surge, but she doesn't know it yet, karina is basically emma frost, this is NOT canon to actual marvel lore lol, more inspired by comics than the movies, jeno is a mix between johnny blaze and danny ketch, wrote the word 'venegance' so many times im starting to believe jeno is batman actually

WARNINGS ↬ mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, jeno crashing out, stunts going wrong, and a fight scene

SUMMARY ↬ after a brutal attack, stunt motorcyclist lee jeno stumbles upon a cursed bike and becomes the ghost rider. now bound to the spirit of vengeance, he fights to control his hellish powers while you, his childhood best friend, fall under the influence of a powerful telepath. as your own abilities awaken and tensions ignite, one question remains: will you save each other or burn together?

WORD COUNT ↬ 14.7k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ for @sungbeam's action figures collab!!!!! tysm for letting me join, this was literally the first time i've ever participated in a collab... and it was so fun. definitely challenged myself here, i'm not used to writing super hero or such action-packed scenes so if it's bad i apologize lol. anyways title is inspired by purple kiss i am in love with them now actually.

PLAYLIST ↬ no roots - alice merton; on my bike - purple kiss; nightmare - halsey; highway to hell - ac/dc; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money; bang bang bang - bigbang; million dollar baby - ava max; mad head love - kenshi yonezu; wanted dead or alive - bon jovi; the chain - fleetwood mac; house of memories - panic at the disco; hymn for the weekend - coldplay

“LEE JENO.”

you muttered under your breath, watching as the sound of a roaring motorcycle echoed through the streets of your city, a blur of black and chrome weaving recklessly through traffic. “Of course.”

The bell above the door jingled as Jeno strolled in, helmet in hand, his trademark smirk plastered across his annoyingly perfect face. His leather jacket was scuffed from what you could only assume was another unnecessary stunt, and his bleached white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Guess who just broke his own jump record,” he announced, sliding into the booth across from you.

“You mean guess who just almost got himself killed,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I landed on someone’s house or anything.”

“Not this time,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Seriously, Jeno, you can’t keep pulling this shit. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back, draping one arm casually over the seat. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Life without you being the industry’s walking insurance liability?” you shot back. “Sounds nice.”

For a second, his smirk faltered, but he quickly bounced back, leaning forward to snag a fry off your plate. “You worry too much. It’s cute, but unnecessary.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you muttered, snatching your plate away before he could grab another fry. “And I wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t make it your mission to stress me out every single day.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I’m perfectly fine right now,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something defensive.

You gave him a pointed look, gesturing toward the fresh scrape on his arm. “What about that, then? Don’t tell me that’s from cooking. You never cook.”

Jeno glanced down at the scrape, shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Fine, maybe I’m a little scratched up.”

“Scratched up doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, your voice softening. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching you do this to yourself, Jeno.”

His smile faded completely now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his helmet. “Look, Y/N, I get it, okay? But this is who I am. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to stick around either.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “You’re my best friend. I’m always going to stick around. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Jeno hesitated, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, too bad,” you replied, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Because I do. And one day, your luck’s going to run out, Jeno.”

The crowd at the high-stakes stunt show was massive. Rows of bleachers packed with spectators buzzed with anticipation. You sat near the front, hands gripping the edge of your seat, your stomach twisting in knots. Except it wasn’t from excitement, but from anxiety.

Jeno was notorious for taking unnecessary risks, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a local showcase; this was a high-profile event with reporters and big-shot sponsors. The stakes were higher, and so was the pressure.

He’d even sworn he was “clean this time,” but you weren’t convinced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the highlight of the evening!” the announcer boomed, his voice carrying over the speakers. “The one, the only—Lee Jeno!”

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jeno rode into the arena, his sleek black motorcycle displayed under the spotlights. He raised one hand in acknowledgment of the cheers before revving up his engine, the rumble vibrating through the stands.

You exhaled sharply, muttering to yourself, “He better not screw this up.”

“Y/N!” Jeno’s voice rang out through his helmet’s mic, directly out of the speakers. He pointed at you, earning a cheer from the crowd. “This one’s for you!”

You rolled your eyes, your face heating up as you pulled your hands over your eyes. The spectators around you erupted into laughter and applause. “Great,” you muttered. “Now I’m part of the show.”

The announcer continued hyping up the crowd. “Jeno will attempt a daring backflip over not one, not two, but three flaming trucks! A feat no rider has dared before!”

Your stomach sank. Flaming trucks? Three? You shot Jeno a warning glare as he revved the bike again, giving you a wink in response.

Oh we’re so fucked.

Unbeknownst to you or Jeno, a group of shadowy figures loitered near the equipment trucks at the edge of the arena. But they weren’t here for the show. Instead, they were here for revenge. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar slicing through his brow, tightened his grip on a wrench.

“Showoff thinks he can cheat us and walk away?” he growled, “Let’s see him jump when his bike doesn’t even make it halfway.”

The group moved swiftly, one of them sneaking into the mechanics’ pit to tamper with Jeno’s ramp. Another slipped toward his bike, loosening key components. They didn’t care about the collateral damage. This was to send a message.

Jeno revved his engine once more, signaling to the crew that he was ready. The crowd roared as he sped toward the first ramp, flames rippled against the sides of the trucks he was about to clear.

You leaned forward in your seat, heart pounding. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” you muttered under your breath.

Jeno hit the ramp with precision, the bike soaring into the air like a black comet. The first flip was smooth, flawless even, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

But something went wrong on the descent.

The bike wobbled midair, tilting dangerously to the side. Jeno fought for control, but the tampered suspension buckled on impact with the second ramp. The motorcycle skidded, sparks flying as Jeno tumbled, his helmeted head slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped in unison, the cheers turning to horrified murmurs. You were on your feet in an instant, heart in your throat.

“JENO!” you screamed, scrambling down the bleachers toward the arena floor.

Before you could reach him, the saboteurs’ plan spiraled even further out of control. The flames from the trucks flared, spreading to the hay bales that lined the arena. As you sprinted toward Jeno’s crumpled form, one of the burning bales exploded, sending debris flying.

You didn’t even have time to react as a sharp piece of metal tore through the air, striking you across the side. Pain bloomed in your ribs, and you crumpled to the ground.

Dazed but conscious, Jeno pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off the stars in his vision. When his gaze landed on you lying motionless on the dirt, blood seeping into your shirt, something inside him snapped.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. His bike was destroyed, the flames were spreading, and you. You were hurt because of him.

Ignoring the chaos and his own injuries, Jeno stumbled toward you, scooping you into his arms. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that he had to get you help. Cradling your limp body, Jeno ran blindly, the roaring flames and chaos fading into the background. His arms ached from carrying you, your weight heavy but nothing compared to the crushing guilt that clawed at his chest. He glanced down at you, your face pale, a streak of blood running from your temple.

“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? Just fine.” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. 

The junkyard loomed ahead, its twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and mangled scrap metal casting long shadows under the moonlight. The attackers had scattered once the chaos at the arena spiraled out of control, but Jeno wasn’t about to risk being found. Not with you like this.

He stumbled into the junkyard, his knees nearly buckling as he reached what looked like the remnants of an old garage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and oil. He carefully laid you down on an old tarp, brushing a strand of hair from your face with shaking fingers.

“Okay, okay…” Jeno muttered, looking around frantically. “Think, Jeno. Think. I need to—need to stop the bleeding.”

He tore a strip from his tattered shirt and pressed it against the wound on your side, and watched as your chest slightly rose up and down. Relief flickered in his chest. This meant you were still alive. 

The makeshift bandage was quickly soaked through. “Dammit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease and sweat across his face. He needed help, but there was no one here. No one except—

The motorcycle.

It caught his eye in the far corner of the garage, half-buried under a pile of scrap. Its frame was unlike anything he’d ever seen, sleek yet ancient, with intricate carvings etched into the metal. It seemed almost alive, faintly glowing with an otherworldly orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What the…?” Jeno muttered, taking an unsteady step toward it. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the bike drew him in. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He glanced back at you, lying unconscious, and then at the motorcycle. Desperation clouded his judgment. Maybe. Just maybe? It could help. He didn’t know how or why, but the pull was undeniable.

Jeno reached out, his fingers hovering over the handlebars. The metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the glow intensified as if reacting to his presence.

“This is insane,” he muttered, but his hand closed around the grip anyway.

The second his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his arm, up his spine, and into his skull. He screamed, his knees giving out as an overwhelming heat consumed him. Flames erupted from the motorcycle, engulfing him in a fiery inferno that didn’t burn but felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.

Memories flashed before his eyes. Every reckless decision, every lie, every failure. The faces of those he’d hurt, including yours, swam in his vision. And then, a voice echoed in his head.

“Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s body convulsed as the fire intensified, his skin crawling with molten energy. When the flames subsided, he was no longer the same. His hands burned with chains of fire, and his eyes glowed a fierce, demonic orange. He looked down at himself, his reflection faintly visible in the bike’s chrome. His face was a skull, wreathed in flames. The Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. Jeno was its vessel.

“My new Ghost Rider. Your sins are heavy. But your vengeance will be greater.”

“No,” Jeno whispered, his voice distorted, sounding like something almost inhuman. “What…what did you do to me?”

And then, Jeno heard the shouts of the attackers. They had followed him, closing in to finish what they started.

But they weren’t ready for what they found.

Jeno stood, the chains in his hands igniting with blistering heat. The Spirit of Vengeance surged within him, and with it came a single, overpowering urge: punish the guilty.

The attackers froze as he stepped forward, his skeletal face illuminated by the flickering flames. “You came for me,” Jeno growled, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Now you’ll burn for it.”

He lashed out with the chains, each strike searing through metal and flesh alike. The air was filled with screams as the flames consumed the saboteurs, leaving them scorched and broken. Vehicles erupted in explosions, sending shards of scrap flying through the air as the hellfire spread uncontrollably.

When the last of the attackers fell, Jeno stood motionless amidst the chaos, the flames dancing across his body slowly beginning to recede. The roar of the Spirit dimmed, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

And then he saw you.

The sight of your unconscious form lying so still on the ground sent a jolt through him. The fire in his chest flickered, replaced by an overwhelming horror. He dropped the chains and stumbled to your side, his skeletal hands trembling as he reached for you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and human once more. The flames that had raged across his body faded completely, leaving him kneeling in the dirt, cradling you as his normal face returned.

Tears stung his eyes as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around your limp body. The junkyard was silent again, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.

“What have I done?” Jeno whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. Even as the Rider, his mind. his heart. It all was still his. He couldn’t lose you.

The sound of distant sirens jolted him from his thoughts. He knew that if he stayed the two of you would be questioned. He gently lifted you onto the back of the fiery motorcycle, the flames reaching your body but leaving you unharmed. The bike seemed to growl beneath him, its power thrumming in his veins, and for the first time, Jeno felt a strange sense of control over the chaos.

With a sharp kick, the motorcycle roared forward, flames streaking behind it as Jeno sped off into the night. 

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing you heard as you drifted back into consciousness. It was followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital room. Your body felt heavy, and when you tried to shift, a sharp pain lanced through your side.

“Easy,” a soft voice said.

Your eyes fluttered open to find Jeno sitting beside your bed, looking utterly wrecked. His black hoodie was rumpled, his knuckles bruised and scraped. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked worried for once in his life, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

“Jeno.” you rasped, your throat dry. 

Relief flooded his face as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”

“Jeno.” you repeated again, your voice stronger now. 

He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “There was an accident at the show,” he began cautiously. “You…you got hurt. But you’re safe now. I got you out of there.”

The memories suddenly came rushing back. The flaming trucks, the explosion, the searing pain in your side. And then…nothing.

Your heart rate monitor began to beep faster as anger bubbled to the surface. “The show,” you said bitterly. “Of course. Because you just had to pull another one of your stunts.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself right now. I almost died, Jeno.”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m so sorry. If I could take it back—”

“But you can’t, can you?” you snapped, your hands pointed at him accusedly. “You can’t take it back, Jeno. Because this is what you do. You push and you push until someone gets hurt, and this time, that someone was me.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the problem,” you shot back. “You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. And I’m the one who has to pick up the broken pieces.”

Jeno flinched, like your words had physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Jeno. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol, while dragging everyone else down with you.”

“I’m trying to change,” he said desperately, leaning forward. “I swear, Y/N. I’m done with all of it, the…everything. I’ll stop.”

“You always say that,” you muttered bitterly, turning your head away. “But nothing ever changes.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint beep of the heart monitor.

“I’ll make it right,” Jeno said after a long pause, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The pain in your side was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as he slowly stood and stepped back.

“I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “But…I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I can be better.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, too-quiet room.

Sometimes Jeno’s promises were often just as hollow as the man who made them.

The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty streets as it skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty alley. Jeno ripped off his helmet, his chest heaving as he stumbled away from the bike. The orange glow of his eyes dimmed, leaving him in the dim light of a flickering street lamp.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in a cracked window—human again, but the memory of his skeletal visage haunted him.

This wasn’t the first night he’d changed. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it—the fire in his veins, the overwhelming urge to hunt, to punish. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence. Some demon was inside him, whispering in his mind, urging him to give in.

“They deserve to burn.”

The voice was deep and guttural. It slithered through his thoughts like a venomous snake, tightening its hold every time he tried to ignore it.

“I’m not listening to you,” Jeno growled, gripping his head as the voice chuckled darkly.

“You can’t silence me, Jeno. You’re mine now. We’re one.”

The demon never introduced itself. It didn’t need to. Jeno already knew as soon as he touched that damn motorcycle. Zarathos. The Spirit of Vengeance. The demon that had bound itself to his soul, using his body as a vessel.

Jeno clenched his fists, the faint glow of hellfire flickering across his knuckles. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a killer.”

“But you are a sinner,” Zarathos hissed. “And sinners punish sinners. The world is full of filth, and we will cleanse it.”

“No,” Jeno snapped, his voice echoing in the empty alley. “I’m not your executioner.”

The demon’s laughter rang in his head, low and mocking. “You say that now. But you felt it, didn’t you? The thrill? The power? The fire in your blood when you burned them? You enjoyed it.”

Jeno’s stomach churned at the memory of the attackers writhing in agony, the fire consuming them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them—at least, not like that. But Zarathos was right about one thing: the power was intoxicating. And that terrified him.

He slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a charred dent in the crumbling stone. “You’re not in control,” he growled. “I am.”

“For now.”

By day, Jeno tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He performed his stunts, practiced at the arena, and plastered on a smile for his fans. But every time he climbed onto a bike, the fire inside him stirred, eager to be unleashed.

It was always worse at night.

Jeno stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out below him like a labyrinth of shadows and flickering lights. The Spirit of Vengeance buzzed in his chest, pulling him toward something or someone.

He saw the scene before he heard it: a man in an alleyway, grabbing a young woman by the wrist. She screamed, struggling to pull away as the man loomed over her, a knife glinting in his hand.

Jeno’s vision blurred, his body moving on autopilot. The flames ignited before he even touched the bike, and when the Ghost Rider landed in the alley, the ground cracked beneath the weight of his fiery presence.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as the skeletal figure loomed over him. 

“You,” Jeno growled, his voice layered with Zarathos’ demonic timbre. “You prey on the innocent. What do you think you deserve?”

The man dropped the knife, stumbling backward. “I—I didn’t mean to—please, don’t hurt me!”

But the Spirit of Vengeance didn’t care for apologies. The chains in Jeno’s hands ignited, wrapping around the man and lifting him off the ground.

“Stop,” Jeno muttered, his human voice fighting to break through. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s guilty,” Zarathos snarled. “And guilt demands punishment.”

The man screamed as the chains tightened, the hellfire scorching his skin. Jeno’s hands trembled, his skull burning brighter as he fought to regain control.

“He’s human,” Jeno argued. “I won’t kill him.”

The demon roared in frustration but relented, the chains loosening just enough to drop the man to the ground. The would-be attacker scrambled to his feet and ran, his screams fading into the distance.

Jeno stood in the alley, the flames around him slowly fading. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with equal parts fear and gratitude.

“Go home,” he said gruffly, his voice still tinged with the Rider’s growl.

She nodded quickly, thanking him and disappearing into the night.

When the alley was silent again, Jeno collapsed against the wall, his human form returning. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.

“You see?” Zarathos sneered. “You can’t stop me forever. And soon, you won’t want to.”

Jeno closed his eyes, the weight of the demon’s presence pressing down on him. He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. But for now, he had to try.

The neon glow of the gas station sign flickered in and out, bathing the parking lot in harsh, artificial light. Jeno leaned against his motorcycle, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, but anyone who looked close enough would see the cracks in his façade—the trembling hands, the bloodshot eyes, the faint glow that threatened to seep from his skin if he let his guard down.

The whiskey burned his throat, but not nearly as much as the fire that roared in his chest every night. Zarathos was relentless, clawing at the edges of his sanity, and the only way Jeno could silence him was by drowning himself in the haze of alcohol and pills.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig. “Just until I figure this out.”

The lie tasted bitter, but it was easier to believe than the truth. He was losing control.

The next morning, you found him slumped over in his garage, reeking of smoke and booze. You hadn’t heard from him since you were discharged from the hospital, so you wanted to at least check in on him. But you weren’t pleased with what you saw. So much for promising change. 

“Jeno,” you said sharply, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.

He stirred, groaning as he lifted his head. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you shot back. “Why aren’t you at practice? Or, I don’t know, trying to clean up your mess for once?”

He winced at your words, sitting up and rubbing his temples. “Not now, okay? I’ve got a headache that makes me want to kill myself right now.”

You scoffed, stepping closer and yanking the bottle out of his hand. “Are you serious right now? This is what you’re doing with your time? Drinking yourself into oblivion while I’m out here trying to recover from almost dying?”

“I’m trying to deal with it!” Jeno snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t hate myself for what happened to you?”

“Then stop making it worse!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You’re spiraling, Jeno, and you’re not fighting this addiction at all.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 

The raw emotion in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You shook your head, your anger softening but not disappearing. “If this is your idea of trying, Jeno, then you’re failing.”

As you turned to leave, something stopped you. A memory from the news. Whispers of a “fiery skeleton” that had been spotted taking down criminals in the dead of night. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.

“Jeno,” you said cautiously. “You’ve been out a lot at night. You wouldn’t happen to know or run into that ‘fire guy’ people are talking about, would you?”

His entire body stiffened, his back turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was damning. “...No.”

“Jeno,” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just…forget about it, okay?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

“Jeno,” you said again, your voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”

He didn’t move.

“Jeno, look at me,” you repeated, more insistent this time.

Finally, he turned, and for the briefest moment, you swore you saw it—a faint glow in his eyes, like embers dying out. Your stomach twisted, a mix of fear and concern swirling in your chest.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jeno shook his head, stepping back. “You don’t want to know,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted. “I’ve known you my whole life, Jeno. I’ve stood by you through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”

But he just shook his head again, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. “I can’t,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit garage, more confused and worried than ever before.

So you needed a change of pace. If Jeno wanted to shut you out, then maybe you could use your time to focus on yourself more. 

You found yourself in your favorite cafe. The snug little store was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You were halfway through your drink, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the chair across from you was pulled out.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled, to see a strikingly beautiful woman with an air of effortless confidence. Platinum blonde hair framed her sharp, elegant features, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her tailored white coat and knee-high boots screamed sophistication, making you suddenly self-conscious of the oversized hoodie and jeans you’d thrown on.

“Uh…sure?” you replied hesitantly, gesturing to the chair.

She smiled, setting down her drink with precision. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

She tilted her head, studying you like you were an interesting puzzle. “Call it intuition.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “It’s been…a rough few weeks.”

“I’m Karina,” she said smoothly, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it. Her grip was cool and firm, her smile almost too perfect.

“So, Y/N,” Karina said, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s been weighing on you? I’m a great listener.”

You hesitated. Something about her was disarming, almost magnetic. Before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say someone I care about is making it really hard to keep caring about them.”

Karina nodded sympathetically, her expression never wavering. “The burden of loyalty. It’s a heavy one, isn’t it? Is this about a man?”

“Yeah,” you said, surprised by how much her words resonated. “I’ve known him forever, but lately…I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s hiding something, and it’s tearing us apart.”

Karina sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “Sometimes, people hide because they’re afraid. Afraid of being judged, or rejected. But that doesn’t excuse them from the hurt they cause.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how accurately she’d summed up your feelings. “Exactly,” you said quietly.

“I know it’s not my place,” Karina continued, her tone gentle, “but maybe you need to take a step back. Focus on yourself for a while. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Her harsh words settled over you, surprised at her directness. But it was comforting to hear such honesty for once.

“I was thinking of it, but I don’t want to lose him either.” you admitted.

Karina’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, other than him, I’m here.” She slid a sleek, white business card across the table. “Call me anytime.”

You picked up the card, turning it over in your hands. There was no title, no address—just her name and a number embossed in silver.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, standing gracefully. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”

Over the next few days, Karina became a fixture in your life. She’d text you to check in, send little messages of encouragement, and even invite you out for coffee or dinner.

At first, you were wary. People didn’t just waltz into your life like this without a reason. But Karina was warm, attentive, and had an uncanny ability to say exactly what you needed to hear. Plus, she was looking for friends in the city too since she had just moved here. 

“So, what’s the full deal with this guy?” she asked one evening over dinner, sipping a glass of wine. “The one who’s been giving you all this grief.”

“His name is Lee Jeno,” you said reluctantly. “He’s my…well, we’ve been friends since we were kids. But he’s got issues. Big ones.”

“Oh damn. The stunt biker guy.” Karina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Issues like ‘he forgot your birthday,’ or issues like ‘he’s a raging alcoholic or drug addict or some other addiction’?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with unease. “Closer to the second one, honestly. Well, he’s always struggled with it. Yet, he’s been acting so weird lately. Disappearing at night, avoiding my questions. And sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s not even Jeno anymore.”

Karina leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it’s just him trying to hide his addiction? Nothing…bigger going on?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Karina said breezily, waving a hand. “Just that sometimes, people go through changes. Big changes. Ones they don’t know how to explain. And sometimes, it takes someone else to help them see their true potential.”

You frowned, her words stirring something deep inside you. “I don’t know. Jeno’s not exactly the ‘ask for help’ type.”

Karina’s smile turned enigmatic, her blue eyes practically glowing. “Maybe not. But some people just need the right nudge. And who better to do that than you?”

There was something in her tone, something that made your skin prickle. But before you could dwell on it, Karina raised her glass in a toast.

“To new beginnings,” she said, her voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, then clinked your glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”

As you drank, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina knew more about your life and Jeno’s than maybe she was letting on.

The opulent room was bathed in shadows, the flickering light of a chandelier casting jagged shapes on the polished mahogany walls. Karina stood at the center of the large, round table, her white ensemble a stark contrast against the room’s dark and decadent decor. Around her sat the upper echelon of the Hellfire Club, an underground organization of mutants with a reputation for ruthlessness and manipulation.

“Karina,” a deep, commanding voice said, breaking the silence. It belonged to the Black King, the leader of the group, whose piercing gaze bore into her. “My dearest White Queen. You’ve been unusually proactive lately. Care to share what’s captured your attention?”

Karina smiled coolly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve found something—or rather, someone—of immense potential.”

The Black Queen, a woman with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, leaned forward with an arched brow. “Do tell. Potential isn’t exactly rare these days. Why is this someone worth our time?”

Karina stepped closer to the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Her name is Y/N. She’s a baseline human. Or so she thinks. She’s yet to manifest her mutant abilities.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Her energy is…raw, untapped, but powerful. I’ve felt it. It’s dormant now, but when it awakens, it will rival even the strongest of us. I’m surprised it’s taking her so long to manifest, but that’s what makes it so powerful.”

The Black King steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you so certain she’s worth the effort? If her powers haven’t manifested yet, there’s no guarantee they ever will.”

Karina tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her smile. “Oh, they will. I’ve already seen the signs—subtle as they are. Her emotions are volatile, and she’s drawn to chaos like a moth to flame. It’s only a matter of time before the spark ignites.”

The Black Queen’s lips curved into a smirk. “Interesting. And what do you propose we do with her once this ‘spark’ ignites?”

Karina’s smile turned predatory, her blue eyes gleaming. “We guide her. Shape her. I’m sensing some crazy electrical forces. Imagine what we could accomplish with her power under our control.”

“And if she refuses?” the Black King asked, his tone cold and measured.

Karina’s expression didn’t falter. “Then we ensure she has no choice. After all, loyalty is just another form of control. And I’ve already begun earning hers.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the other members exchanged intrigued glances.

The Black King leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Karina. But if you can deliver on your promises, the rewards will be worth the risk.”

“I always deliver,” Karina said smoothly.

The Black Queen raised her glass, the golden liquid catching the light. “Then here’s to your little pet project. Let’s hope she’s everything you claim she is.”

Karina raised her own glass in return, her smile never wavering. 

“Oh, she will be.”

Jeno stood outside the café, arms crossed and jaw tight as he watched through the window. There you were, sitting across from Karina again, laughing at something she’d said. The way you leaned in, the way she smiled that calculated, flawless smile—it all set his teeth on edge.

He clenched his fists, the faint flicker of flames threatening to ignite beneath his skin. Zarathos stirred in the back of his mind, growling low like an animal sensing danger.

“She’s not who she seems,” the demon whispered, its voice grating like embers crackling.

Jeno didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. He’d felt it the moment he’d laid eyes on Karina. Something about her was too perfect, too polished. And the way she’d latched onto you so quickly? It wasn’t right.

He waited until Karina had left before stepping inside. You looked up, surprised to see him, but your expression quickly shifted to irritation.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone defensive.

Jeno didn’t answer right away, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, his dark eyes searching yours. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. “If this is about Karina—”

“It is about her,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Y/N, you don’t know her. Not really.”

“And you do?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I don’t need to,” he said, his tone rising. “Something about her is off. I can feel it.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Oh, great. Now we’re relying on your ‘feelings’ to judge people? Like your intuition ever worked in the first place. I’m lucky to be alive right now.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Y/N. She’s not who she says she is. People don’t just waltz into your life and start playing therapist out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Maybe she actually cares,” you snapped. “Unlike someone who disappears for days at a time without a word and comes back smelling like smoke and regret.”

Jeno flinched at your words, but he pushed forward. “I’m not perfect, okay? But I know when someone’s trouble. And Karina? She’s got ‘trouble’ written all over her.”

“Why do you even care?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything that’s happened. I don’t need your permission to make new friends.”

Jeno looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—hurt, maybe. “I care because I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

For a moment, you almost softened. Almost.

But then you thought about Karina. How she listened, how she didn’t judge you, how she made you feel seen in a way Jeno hadn’t in months.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” you said coldly. “Karina’s been more of a friend to me lately than you have.”

Jeno stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you shot back.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he shoved it back. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to leave. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Later that evening, you met Karina at her apartment. A sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. God, you were poor as hell. She greeted you with a warm smile, handing you a glass of wine as you settled onto her plush couch.

“You seem tense,” she noted, sitting gracefully across from you.

“Just had another fight with Jeno,” you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. “He’s convinced you’re some kind of…villain or something.”

Karina chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s like he’s looking for reasons to push me away.”

Karina reached out, placing a hand over yours. Her touch was cool and comforting. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re afraid. Fear can make them see threats where there are none.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I just don’t get it. Why can’t he see that you’re trying to help me?”

Karina’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something calculated. “It’s because he doesn’t understand you the way I do. You’re special, Y/N. More than you realize.”

You frowned, her words catching you off guard. “Special? What do you mean?”

Karina smiled enigmatically, her fingers brushing against yours. “You’ll see. In time.”

Her words left a lingering unease in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t know what he was talking about.

Jeno leaned against the wall of his garage, staring blankly at the ground. Zarathos growled in the back of his mind, restless and impatient.

“You should have burned her,” the demon hissed.

Jeno closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists. “Shut up.”

“She’s manipulating her. The girl you care for. Can’t you feel it?”

Jeno’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. But what could he do? You weren’t listening to him, and every time he tried to warn you, it only pushed you further away.

“Then stop warning her,” Zarathos said, his voice low and menacing. “And show her what that woman truly is.”

Jeno opened his eyes, the flames flickering faintly in his irises. For once, he found himself agreeing with the demon. 

“You’re finally listening,” Zarathos hissed, its voice echoing in Jeno’s head.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jeno muttered, gripping the handlebars of the bike. “I didn’t ask for you, and I’m not letting you run the show.”

The Spirit of Vengeance laughed, a dark, grating sound that sent chills down Jeno’s spine. “You think you can control me, boy? You’re nothing without me.”

Jeno scowled, the flames creeping up his arms flaring brighter in response to his frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

“Ah, the girl,” Zarathos sneered. “You think she’ll forgive you? That she’ll see you as anything but a monster?”

“She will,” Jeno said firmly, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him. “But first, I need to figure out how to use this…whatever this is.”

Zarathos growled. “Vengeance isn’t a tool, boy. It’s a purpose. A fire that consumes everything in its path.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not here to burn the world down,” Jeno snapped. “I’m here to protect it.”

The Spirit laughed again, its voice dripping with disdain. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Determined to understand his new abilities, Jeno spent every spare moment testing the limits of his powers. He discovered that the flames responded to his emotions, roaring to life when he was angry or scared and flickering out when he calmed himself.

One night, he stood in the middle of an abandoned road, the cursed motorcycle idling beside him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the growing warmth in his chest, and held out his hand. A whip of fire erupted from his palm, coiling and snapping like a living thing.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, extinguishing the whip with a flick of his wrist.

But every small victory was overshadowed by the constant presence of Zarathos. The Spirit’s voice was a relentless whisper in his mind, urging him to give in, to embrace the fire and let it consume him.

“Why fight it?” Zarathos taunted. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power. The thrill.”

Jeno ignored the voice, climbing onto the motorcycle and revving the engine. The flames along its frame flared to life, illuminating the darkness around him.

“I’m not your puppet,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the handlebars.

“We’ll see,” the Spirit replied, its laughter echoing in his ears as he sped down the road.

One evening, while patrolling the outskirts of town, Jeno stumbled upon a group of men mugging an elderly woman in an alley. His first instinct was to intervene, but as the flames began to crawl up his arms, Zarathos’ voice returned, stronger than ever.

“Punish them,” it hissed. “Make them suffer.”

Jeno hesitated, his heart pounding. The men turned to face him, their eyes widening in fear as they took in his glowing eyes and the flames licking at his jacket.

“Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble,” one of them stammered, backing away.

Jeno clenched his fists, the fire burning hotter. Zarathos was screaming in his mind now, urging him to unleash his fury.

“They deserve it!” the Spirit roared. “They’re guilty!”

But as Jeno looked at the terrified men, he saw something else—fear. Regret. They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t beyond saving, either.

“No,” Jeno said aloud, his voice steady. “Not like this.”

He extinguished the flames, stepping forward and forcing the men to flee with nothing more than his presence. The elderly woman thanked him tearfully, but as he walked away, the weight of Zarathos’ disapproval settled over him like a storm cloud.

“You’re weak,” the Spirit snarled. “One day, you’ll see. Mercy has no place in vengeance.”

“Maybe not,” Jeno muttered, mounting his motorcycle. “But I’m not just vengeance. I’m also me.”

The more Jeno used his powers, the more he began to notice strange connections—patterns he couldn’t ignore. The criminals he encountered often mentioned a name in hushed tones: Karina.

One night, he followed a lead to an abandoned warehouse, where he found a cache of high-tech weapons and equipment. The markings on the crates were unmistakable. This wasn’t ordinary crime.

“She’s not just some innocent bystander,” Jeno muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re finally catching on,” Zarathos sneered. “She’s more dangerous than you know. And she has her sights set on your girl.”

Jeno’s heart sank. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was piling up. Karina wasn’t who she seemed, and if she was connected to you, that meant you were in more danger than you realized.

He revved his motorcycle, the flames roaring to life. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, speeding off into the night.

The fire burned hotter now, fueled by a new determination. Jeno wasn’t just fighting to control the Spirit of Vengeance anymore. He was fighting to save you.

You sat in Karina’s sleek, modern apartment, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the pristine walls. A strange tension filled the room. Karina’s usually serene demeanor had shifted; there was an intensity in her gaze, something calculating behind her sharp blue eyes.

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Karina asked, her voice soft yet commanding.

“Felt what?” you asked, frowning as you set your cup of tea on the table.

“That spark,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “The moments when your emotions run high—fear, anger, pain—and something stirs inside you. Something you can’t explain.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. You had felt something—fleeting moments of electric energy coursing through your body, like static building up but never quite releasing. But you’d written it off as stress or adrenaline.

“How do you know about that?” you asked warily.

Karina smiled, a knowing, almost maternal expression crossing her face. “Because I’ve seen it before. I know what you are, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. “What I am? You make it sound like I’m not a human.”

“You’re not just human,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re a mutant.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stared at her, the weight of her statement pressing down on you. “That’s not… I’m not…”

“You are,” Karina interrupted gently. “It’s why you’ve always felt different, why strange things happen around you when you’re upset. It’s your gift, Y/N. Your power.”

Your mind raced, flashes of unexplained incidents from your past bubbling to the surface: the lights flickering during arguments, the faint hum of electricity in your veins when you were scared. 

A mutant? But mutants were both feared and loved by society. Oh god, what would Jeno think?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Karina reached out, placing a hand on yours. “You don’t have to say anything. I know how overwhelming this must be, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

You looked up at her, tears pricking your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know how to control it.”

“That’s where I come in,” Karina said smoothly. “I can help you. I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like the world doesn’t understand you. But I do.”

Her words were like a lifeline, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. But then a small voice in the back of your mind—Jeno’s voice—echoed faintly: She’s not who she says she is.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t understand.

Karina led you into a hidden room within her apartment, the walls lined with advanced tech and holographic screens displaying maps, dossiers, and data that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“What is all this?” you asked, glancing around in awe.

“This,” Karina said, gesturing to the room with a flourish, “is part of something much bigger. A movement, if you will. The Hellfire Club.”

You turned to her, confusion etched across your face. “The Hellfire Club? What is that?”

“We’re an organization dedicated to ensuring mutantkind rises to its rightful place in the world,” Karina explained, her voice laced with passion. “For too long, mutants have been oppressed, hunted, and treated as less than human. But we’re done hiding. We’re done being afraid.”

Her words stirred something in you—a mix of fear and curiosity. “What does this have to do with me?”

Karina stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Everything. Your powers, Y/N—they’re extraordinary. Once they’re fully awakened, you’ll be capable of things most mutants can only dream of. But you need guidance. Training. And that’s what I’m offering you.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“None of us did,” Karina said, her voice softening. “But we don’t get to choose what we are. We can only choose how we use it. And you, Y/N, have the potential to change everything.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, “But to do that, you have to let go of your fear. You have to embrace who you are. And you have to trust me.”

There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to believe every word she said. But deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Karina smiled, her expression unreadable. “No catch, my dear. Only the promise of a future where you can be free—where we can all be free.”

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of her words and the nagging feeling in your gut. “I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Karina said smoothly. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Y/N. Your power is a gift. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

As you left her apartment that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to believe her, to trust her, but something about her intensity unsettled you.

And as you walked into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something much larger and much more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.

Jeno sat on the curb outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion and regret. His jacket was torn, his knuckles bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, and the faint smell of whiskey lingered on his breath. He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his lap, the flames of his inner turmoil simmering just beneath the surface. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder, more unbearable.

When you stepped outside, startled to find him there in the dead of night, his eyes met yours. They were glassy, but not from the alcohol. There was something raw and vulnerable in them, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn back inside. But the sight of him—broken, disheveled, and so unlike the confident Jeno you’d always known—pulled you forward.

“Jeno?” you said cautiously, stepping closer. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the tension between you was far more chilling.

He looked up, his eyes hollow yet filled with a desperation that made your chest tighten. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He stood, swaying slightly, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I—I needed to see you.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked like a ghost of the man you once knew, his charm buried beneath layers of pain and self-destruction. “It’s the middle of the night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to shield yourself from the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know I’m a mess. But I—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You frowned, torn between frustration and concern. “What do you mean?”

Jeno’s hands trembled as he gripped the bottle tighter, then hurled it across the street. It shattered against the pavement, the sound cutting through the stillness like a scream. “This!” he shouted, gesturing wildly to himself. “I’m losing control, Y/N! Of everything. Of my powers. Of… of me.”

You stepped back, startled by the outburst. “Jeno, calm down—”

“I can’t!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. But it’s like I’m fighting this thing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.”

His hands ignited for a split second, flames licking at his skin before fizzling out. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the fire—real, tangible fire—coming from his hands was impossible to process. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. “Jeno… what was that?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head as if trying to push the Spirit’s voice out of his mind. “It’s me,” he said bitterly. “Or… it’s not me. I don’t even know anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. “I’m not just some messed-up stunt rider, Y/N. I’m… I’m the Ghost Rider.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Your mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the Jeno you knew with the stories you’d heard about the fiery vigilante haunting the city. “The Ghost Rider?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“I wish it was,” he said, his voice hollow. “But it’s real. The flames, the power, the voice in my head—it’s all real. And it’s killing me, Y/N. Every time I transform, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. And the things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair again. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, but the shock of his confession kept you rooted to the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice rising. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with this alone, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. You’re the one person who still sees something good in me, and I couldn’t risk losing that.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words hit you. “Jeno, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

“And then there’s you,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with anguish. “You’re the one thing. The only thing that makes me want to be better. But I’m screwing that up too, aren’t I?”

“Jeno…” You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words leaving you stunned. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, fear, anger, and an overwhelming sadness for the man standing in front of you.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not to her. Not to Karina.”

You stiffened at the mention of her name. “This again? Jeno, I told you—Karina’s helping me. She understands me in a way you don’t. She—”

“She’s using you!” Jeno snapped, his voice rising. “You think she cares about you? She’s manipulating you, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I feel it.”

“You don’t know her,” you shot back, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what it’s like to feel so out of control. Karina does.”

“And I don’t?” Jeno asked bitterly. “I’ve been out of control my whole damn life. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying because of you.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand down his face, his composure crumbling. “I love you,” he said finally, his words barely audible. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeno… you can’t.” you began, your voice faltering. “That’s so unfair. You can’t fucking drop that on me?” 

He grabbed your hands, his touch warm despite the cold night air. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t trust her. Don’t let her pull you into whatever she’s planning. I can’t lose you to her.”

You pulled your hands away, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You don’t understand, Jeno. I’m finally starting to figure out who I am, and Karina is helping me. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“And what about me?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What about us?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

Jeno stared at you, his expression a mix of heartbreak and resignation. “You’ve already chosen her, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. The silence between you was deafening, and when Jeno finally turned and walked away, the flames that had always surrounded him seemed smaller, dimmer.

The air inside the abandoned factory was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the rusted machinery and crumbling walls, creating an eerie backdrop for the confrontation you knew was coming. You stood frozen at the edge of the room, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. Your hands trembled at your sides, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between your fingers. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the energy surging through you, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.

Karina stood at the center of the room, her white suit pristine despite the grime of the factory. Her diamond-shaped earrings caught the faint light, glinting like shards of ice. She watched you with a calculating gaze, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “The power inside you, begging to be unleashed. You don’t have to fight it, Y/N. Let it out.”

“Stop. Get out of my head.” you snapped, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. 

Her smirk widened. “Darling, you can barely control your own abilities. I’m just helping you clear your mind. To help you relax. ”

Before you could respond, a deafening roar tore through the silence. The factory doors exploded inward, shards of metal and wood scattering across the floor. Flames erupted in the doorway, and through the inferno, Jeno emerged on his motorcycle, the Ghost Rider in full form. His flaming skull cast an ominous glow across the room, and his chain dragged behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.

“Karina!” Jeno’s voice was a guttural growl, distorted by the Spirit of Vengeance. “Step away from her.”

Karina turned toward him, her smirk never faltering. “Well, well,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “The Spirit of Vengeance finally decided to crash the party. How… predictable.”

You took a step forward, panic rising in your chest. “Jeno, don’t do this!”

He glanced at you briefly, his fiery gaze softening for just a moment. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want you to see this.”

Karina laughed, a cold, melodic sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. Not when she’s finally starting to understand her potential.”

Jeno’s flames roared brighter, his chain snapping taut in his hands. “You’re not laying a finger on her.”

Karina’s eyes glowed with a faint silver hue, her telepathic powers flaring to life. “I don’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy you, Jeno.”

The telepathic assault hit Jeno like a freight train. His flames flickered, dimming as he staggered back, clutching his skull. The Ghost Rider’s growl turned into a pained roar as Karina’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and venomous.

“You’re a failure, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, her words cutting deeper than any physical blow. “A coward. A junkie. You think you can protect her? You couldn’t even protect yourself.”

Jeno dropped to his knees, his chain clattering to the ground. His fiery skull dimmed further, revealing glimpses of his human face beneath, twisted in agony. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “No, I—”

Karina stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You left her to die, Jeno. You’re the reason she almost bled out in that junkyard. And now you think you can save her from me? You’re pathetic.”

“Stop it!” you screamed, stepping forward. But an invisible barrier, a telekinetic shield, held you back. You slammed your fists against it, sparks of electricity crackling against the force field. “Let him go!”

Karina didn’t even glance at you, her focus entirely on Jeno. “You’re nothing without the Spirit of Vengeance. Just a broken man with nothing to offer.”

Jeno’s flames sputtered, his body trembling as he fought against her mental assault. But then, something snapped.

A surge of electricity exploded from your body, shattering Karina’s barrier and sending a shockwave through the room. The force of it knocked Karina back, her telepathic hold on Jeno breaking as she stumbled. Sparks danced along your skin, and the lights in the factory flickered wildly, casting the room in a chaotic strobe of light and shadow.

Karina’s calm façade cracked for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. “What…?” she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You looked down at your hands, electricity arcing between your fingers. The buzzing energy in your veins was overwhelming but exhilarating, like you were finally alive for the first time. “I don’t know what you did to me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “But I’m done letting you manipulate me.”

Jeno rose to his feet, his flames roaring back to life as the Spirit of Vengeance surged within him. He turned to you, his fiery gaze filled with both awe and concern. “Y/N… your powers…”

You met his gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in your chest. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we stop her. Together.”

Karina’s lips twisted into a scowl. “You think you can stop me? Both of you are just scared little children playing with powers you don’t understand.”

Her eyes glowed again as she prepared to strike, but this time, you were ready. Electricity coursed through your body as you raised your hand, sending a bolt of lightning toward her. Jeno’s chain ignited in flames as he lashed out, the Ghost Rider and your newfound powers colliding in a chaotic, electrified storm of fire and fury.

Sparks flew as your electricity surged wildly, ricocheting off metal beams and machinery, while flames from Jeno’s Ghost Rider form scorched the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal, the heat of the battle pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Karina narrowly avoided both attacks.

You stood in the middle of it all, suddenly trembling as the power in your veins pulsed out of control, the air around you crackling with raw energy. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in your ears.

“Jeno, stop!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the storm of noise. “I can’t— I can’t control it!”

“Y/N, get out of here!” Jeno growled, the hellfire in his skull burning brightly as he dodged a telepathic assault from Karina. His chain lashed out, the flames leaving a trail of fire as it whipped through the air. “I’ll handle her!”

“You can’t handle me, Rider,” Karina sneered, her diamond-covered hand catching the flames of Jeno’s chain and deflecting them with ease. The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading to the ground, illuminating her cold, calculating smirk. She twisted her body back to flesh, her eyes glowing as she aimed a telepathic blast toward you. “And neither can she.”

The attack hit you like a freight train, sending you stumbling backward. Your head throbbed as Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and venomous. You’re a danger to everyone around you, Y/N. Look at him. He’s already breaking because of you.

“No!” you shouted, gripping your head as electricity sparked uncontrollably from your body, burning holes in the ground. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that threatened to consume you. “Get out of my head!”

Jeno roared, swinging his flaming chain toward Karina with a ferocity that shook the room. “Leave her alone!”

Karina turned to diamond just in time, the chain clashing against her hardened form with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the factory, shattering nearby windows and sending shards of glass raining down. Jeno pulled back and lashed out again, but the attacks only glanced off her unyielding body, leaving faint scorch marks on her diamond skin.

“You’re predictable,” Karina taunted, reverting back to her human form. Her voice dripped with malice as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. “And reckless.” Her eyes narrowed, her telepathic powers flaring as she struck again, this time targeting Jeno. Which is why you’ll never be enough for her.

Jeno froze, his flames flickering as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The Ghost Rider’s growl faltered, his fiery skull dimming as Karina’s mental assault dug into his deepest insecurities. “I… I…” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Seeing her opening, Karina lunged, her diamond form shimmering into existence as she aimed a devastating punch at Jeno’s chest. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending him flying into a stack of metal crates. He hit the ground hard, the flames around him sputtering as he struggled to rise.

“Jeno!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic. Electricity surged through you, the power building to a dangerous level as your fear and anger took over. You raised your hands, the energy crackling wildly as you unleashed a massive bolt of lightning toward Karina.

She shifted to diamond just in time, the electricity ricocheting off her hardened form and striking a nearby generator. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris crashing through the factory, the force of it knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the breath driven from your lungs as pain shot through your ribs.

Karina emerged from the smoke, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her once-pristine suit now torn and scorched. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand, Y/N,” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, electricity arcing dangerously around you. Your body ached, your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stand. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I gave you purpose!” Karina snapped, shifting back to her human form as she tried to invade your mind again. But you were ready this time.

The moment her telepathic influence touched you, your electricity surged outward in a massive wave, cutting off her connection. The lights in the factory exploded, plunging the room into flickering darkness lit only by Jeno’s flames and the electric blue glow of your powers. The air buzzed with energy, the tension so thick it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Jeno took advantage of the distraction, his chain wrapping around Karina’s leg and yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a sharp thud, immediately shifting to diamond to avoid his next attack. Jeno’s flames roared brighter as he swung his chain again, the fiery links crashing against her diamond form with enough force to send her skidding across the floor.

“You’re out of tricks, Karina!” Jeno snarled, his skull blazing with hellfire.

Karina smirked, standing slowly. “Am I?”

With a wave of her hand, she sent shards of diamond-like energy hurtling toward you. Jeno’s flames flared brighter as he leapt in front of you, the shards disintegrating against his burning form. But the force of the attack sent him staggering, his flames flickering as he struggled to stay upright.

“Y/N, focus!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder at you. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his human form flickering beneath the Ghost Rider’s flames. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The chaos of the battle overwhelmed you, but Jeno’s words anchored you, giving you the strength to push past the fear. Electricity sparked and crackled around you as you raised your hands, channeling the power into a focused current. The energy shot forward, slamming into Karina with enough force to send her flying into a pile of crates.

She staggered to her feet, her diamond form flickering as she struggled to maintain it. For the first time, she looked rattled, her breathing ragged and her movements slower, more deliberate.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

“We’ll see about that,” Jeno growled, flames flaring as he stepped forward.

You steadied yourself, your hands still sparking, ready for whatever came next. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of control over your powers. With Jeno by your side, you knew you wouldn’t back down.

Karina straightened, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. She held up a hand, her expression unreadable. “Enough,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

Jeno growled, his chain igniting in fiery protest as the Spirit of Vengeance pushed him to finish the fight. “You don’t get to walk away, Karina.”

But you stepped forward, placing a hand on his burning shoulder. “Jeno, wait,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “Let me handle this.”

Jeno’s skull turned slightly toward you, the flames in his sockets flickering with hesitation, but he relented, lowering his chain. “Fine. But don’t trust her.”

You turned to Karina, your chest heaving as you fought to steady the overwhelming power coursing through you. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with exhaustion and hurt. “You said you were helping me. Was it all a lie?”

Karina’s diamond form flickered briefly before she reverted fully to flesh and blood. For the first time, you saw something human in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe doubt. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, straightening her posture.

“I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not about everything. You do have incredible potential, Y/N. More than you realize. But… I didn’t approach you purely out of kindness.”

“Then why?” you demanded, the electricity around you sparking dangerously.

Karina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Because I needed you. Your powers. For the Hellfire Club’s plans. You were… a means to an end.”

Your chest tightened at her words, but before the anger could take hold, she continued.

“But,” she said, glancing away, “it wasn’t all manipulation. I—” She paused, the unflappable Karina momentarily at a loss for words. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N. You’re smart, kind… and you made me see things differently.”

“Differently?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Karina met your gaze, her icy composure softening. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing what I thought was necessary—making hard decisions for the ‘greater good.’ But being around you… it reminded me of who I used to be, before all of this. Before I became... this.”

Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming but still present. “If you’re having second thoughts, prove it. Walk away.”

Karina looked between you and Jeno, her expression conflicted. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, but instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, metallic gauntlets.

“Here,” she said, tossing them to you. You caught them instinctively, the cool metal humming faintly in your hands. “They’ll help you control your powers. Keep you from accidentally frying someone. I was supposed to give them to you after you joined us.”

You stared at the gauntlets, then back at her. “Then why are you giving me these now?”

Karina smiled faintly, a flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her usual cool demeanor. “Because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Power without control... it’ll destroy you. And I’d rather not see that happen.”

Jeno crossed his arms, his fiery gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t absolve you of everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” Karina said, her voice quiet. She turned to you, her expression serious. “If things get worse. Like if the Hellfire Club comes after you. Call me. I’ll help you.”

“Why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Karina gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Because despite everything, I care about you, Y/N. More than I expected to.”

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the factory’s exit.

“You’ll never stop looking over your shoulder if you go back to them,” Jeno called after her, his voice hard.

Karina paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But we don’t all get to ride off into the sunset with a gorgeous woman who can manipulate electricity by our side, do we, Rider?”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

You stood there, clutching the gauntlets tightly, your heart a storm of emotions. Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming until they extinguished completely, leaving him in his human form.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “I think so. For now.”

He gave you a small, tentative smile. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

The factory was a wreck. The floors were scorched, the walls cracked from the battles you fought, and the lingering scent of burnt rubber and ozone filled the air. You and Jeno both stood in the aftermath, looking like a pair of survivors who had just stumbled out of a warzone—except, in your case, the war was against a woman who could turn into a diamond. And, you know, manipulate minds. No big deal.

You winced as you flexed your wrist, the burn from a stray blast still making your skin tingle. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed his own set of injuries: deep cuts across his arms and a nasty gash on his forehead, not to mention his previously pristine jacket now reduced to ash and scorched fabric. Classic Jeno, always wearing the most expensive thing in a junkyard brawl.

“Hey, so…” you began, shifting uncomfortably as you tried to ignore the awkward silence hanging between you two. “About all the… revelations tonight.”

Jeno shot you a sideways glance, and you could see the weight of everything that had happened sinking in. The Spirit of Vengeance had left him, so at least he wasn’t looking like a flaming skull for now, but you could still see the lingering guilt in his eyes. The man was a walking metaphor for a storm. Wild, unpredictable, and, apparently, in need of a good therapist.

“Yeah, you don’t say,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “So, uh, what now? Do we pretend that didn’t happen? Or is the whole ‘electricity-generating mutant’ thing a forever deal?”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think I just woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll be a walking lightning rod for the rest of my life’?”

Jeno winced as he straightened up, his movements stiff. “No, I didn’t, but... you know. Seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Great. I’ll add it to my ‘What I Did Wrong Today’ list,” you muttered, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise in you. But it wasn’t just at your powers. It was at the one thing you couldn’t quite shake off: Jeno.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone suddenly more serious. “And what about you, huh? Still think popping pills and riding a bike through fire is a good coping mechanism? Especially since you’re apparently made of fire now?”

Jeno flinched, and for a moment, it felt like the old Jeno was retreating back into his shell—the one he built to protect himself from all the things he couldn’t face. He kicked the ground, looking at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t— It’s just…” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Jeno,” you said, voice softer now. You placed a hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m serious. If you want to stay in my life. If you really care about me at all. You need to get help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Jeno glanced up at you, his usually cocky demeanor replaced with something a little more vulnerable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. And I promised you I’d get better. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration dissipating just slightly. The old, familiar bond you shared was still there, tangled in with the new, raw emotions. You nodded, but added with a small, teasing smirk, “If you ever try to pop a pill in front of me again, I’ll use you as a lightning rod. Got it?”

Jeno gave a half-laugh, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. No more pills. Just the occasional dramatic motorcycle crash for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s so much better,” you deadpanned. “But seriously, Jeno, I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself first. I won’t watch you burn up from the inside out.”

He met your gaze, the flicker of sincerity in his eyes making you pause. “I’ll try, Y/N. I swear. I’m tired of hurting myself—and you.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into your bones. “Good. And, uh, while we’re on the subject—if you ever want to not be on fire for five seconds, I’ve got these new gauntlets that could help with the whole ‘literal fire hazard’ thing. Maybe we should figure out how to duplicate them.”

Jeno’s eyes flicked to the gauntlets you were still holding, raising an eyebrow. “You think those are going to keep me from turning into a human torch?”

“Well, they won’t stop you from being a hot mess,” you quipped, “but they might help with the literal hot mess part. Try them on. See if they can cool you off. But give them back, I don’t wanna electrocute you later.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else.” He pulled the gauntlets on with a shrug. They fit perfectly, “Better than getting burned alive, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said with a small smile. “See? We’re making progress.”

He gave a small, half-smile in return. “One step at a time.”

The first few days after the chaos in the factory felt like the world had hit the pause button. You were still grappling with the full weight of what had happened—the fight, Karina’s departure, and the truth about your powers. But more than that, you were trying to figure out how to not burn down the nearest building while you practiced controlling your mutant abilities.

Your bedroom had turned into an impromptu testing ground for your electrical powers, and you were starting to actually feel like a walking lightning rod now. The first time you accidentally zapped the toaster, you almost burned down the kitchen. It’s fine, you told yourself. I’ll just keep a fire extinguisher in every room.

"Okay, just breathe," you muttered, staring at the lamp in front of you. Your hands crackled with electrical energy. "Focus. You’re not going to fry this lamp into oblivion. You’ve got this."

The lamp flickered. Then, with a sudden snap, it exploded in a burst of light.

"Okay, maybe not. Plan B: Try not to set anything on fire this time," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. You glanced at the charred remnants of your lamp. Great. I’m a walking disaster.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Jeno was wrestling with his own set of issues. His recovery wasn’t as simple as just kicking a habit. It was as if his very soul had to unlearn years of reckless behavior and self-destruction. And while he was committed to getting better, you had a sneaking suspicion that his journey would involve more than a few missteps along the way.

You walked into the living room, where Jeno was sitting on the couch, staring at a glass of water like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

"How’s it going, big guy?" you asked, leaning in the doorway.

Jeno glanced up and sighed dramatically. "I’m just sitting here, contemplating the universe. You know, the usual."

"Right. The deep, soul-searching kind of contemplation." You gave him a pointed look. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that water can’t be addictive?"

He shot you a dry look. "Very funny. But no, I’m actually just trying to make sure I don’t relapse into firing up my bike for no reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And that’s going well, I assume?"

"Actually," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I’m being good. No fire, no bike stunts, just... boring old rehab."

"Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to be extra dramatic about it. It’s your brand."

Jeno smirked, the hint of his old self shining through. "Yeah, well, I’m trying to unbrand myself."

You chuckled. "Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the Ghost Rider brand is hard to shake."

Jeno exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "I hate that name."

You threw your hands up. "What? It’s catchy!"

"Catchy? It sounds like I’m auditioning for a cheesy horror movie," he grumbled.

"But the cool demon guy gave you it."

Jeno gave you a playful glare. "And he wants me to exterminate every sinful person in this world, so is he really ‘cool’?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall into your bad habits again. Humor is the only thing that gets me through this madness."

Jeno stared at you, a mix of amusement and sincerity on his face. "Thanks, Y/N. Really. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You softened, though you couldn’t resist throwing in a final jab. "Probably set something on fire, knowing you."

"Don’t tempt me," Jeno warned with a grin.

"Okay, okay," you relented, holding up your hands. "I’ll stop. But hey, how about we both try and figure this out without burning anything down, deal?"

Jeno looked at you, a little more serious now. "Deal."

And so, you began this new chapter, with a growing sense of purpose. You and Jeno were both trying to reclaim control over your lives, and though it wasn’t easy, it was at least a little bit more bearable with each other’s help.

As for you, well, you still had a lot to learn about controlling your powers. But you figured you could start small, maybe with not blowing up your appliances. After all, if you could survive your own chaotic life, maybe saving the world wasn’t that far out of reach.

The night was cool, but the air still carried the buzz of the day’s chaos. The city sprawled out before you, lights flickering in the distance, the world oblivious to the storm that had just passed through. You and Jeno stood side by side in the parking lot, where the remnants of your battle and struggles were already fading into the distance.

Jeno’s bike sat next to you, the engine idling with that low growl that had always gotten your heart racing—before you knew all the trouble it would bring. You felt the familiar charge in the air as your hands crackled with electric energy, but it was different now. Controlled.

“Well, this is... weird,” you said, tapping the side of your gauntlets and watching the sparks dance around your fingertips.

Jeno shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you being the dangerous one now. What’s next? You’re gonna start taking over the world?"

You rolled your eyes. “World domination? Please. I’ll start with not burning down my apartment.”

Jeno gave you a knowing look. “One step at a time, right?”

He mounted his bike and revved the engine, the sound echoing through the empty streets. You followed suit, stepping onto the back of his bike with a practiced ease that only came from years of friendship—and more than a few questionable decisions. 

As Jeno revved the engine again, you looked at the skyline one last time, feeling the electric hum of your powers simmer beneath your skin.

"You know," Jeno said, breaking the silence as his hand gripped the handlebars tighter, "I think I’ve got a name for you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again."

"No, seriously. You need a name," he insisted, glancing at you with that same cocky grin. "Surge. It fits. You’ve got the whole ‘electricity’ vibe going on."

You stared at him for a moment, and then—after a deep, soul-searching pause—let out a dramatic sigh. “Surge? Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said with a shrug, clearly pleased with himself. "It’s got that ‘superhero’ ring to it."

You immediately shoved him lightly, making him almost lose his balance. "Shut up, Jeno. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” he protested, his laughter echoing in the night. "Alright, alright, we’ll work on it. But you can’t deny it—Surge has a nice ring to it."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Just drive, Jeno. You’re lucky I’m not zapping you off this bike right now.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Jeno started the bike and, with a final glance toward the horizon, sped off into the night, the flames of his chain lighting up the road ahead.

The wind whipped through your hair, the flames of Ghost Rider and the crackling electricity of your powers illuminating the streets as you rode side by side. The world still had its dangers, but right now, the night felt endless. 

“Like would our ship name be Surge Rider or Ghur—”

“Shut the fuck up and drive.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Reader

Talk of the Hour

Petra and the other girls lean in closer to Y/N as they giggle and shush each other.

“So, what was Levi like in the underground?” Petra asks, curiosity in her eyes.

Mina blushes. “I heard he was a bad boy.”

Y/N looks around the room to make sure the coast is clear before smiling at the fawning group of girls. “He was!”

All the girls squeal and start giggling.

Y/N laughs and shushes them. “Whenever Levi was around, people would walk away. Some other guys would try to seem tougher than him and pick fights, but they obviously never won. Levi had this certain…swag…to him. From the way he dressed to the way he acted.”

Nifa gasps. “He dressed like a gangster? That is so unlike him.”

“Well, there are no such thing as nice clothes in the underground. Unless you have money to buy them, but remember, people down there don’t even have money for food.” The girls frown and ‘aw’ at the sad explanation, but Y/N continues, “Although, Levi always kept his clothes clean. He would always wear his tan trousers, his brown flowy shirt and would layer his red vest over top.”

Y/N blushes. “He worked with what he had, but he was always the best dressed.”

“I always wore the same outfit because someone always needed money for medicine.”

Y/N and the other girls freeze, their faces turning ghost white as Levi, the talk of the hour, walks in.

Y/N awkwardly laughs and clears her throat. “Levi…we were just talking about you!”

Levi scoffs. “Yes, I heard.”

Petra smiles. “Nothing but good words though!”

Levi crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair. “I am happy I no longer need to wear those clothes anymore.

Y/N smiles as she looks down at her metal leg, it being the reason Levi had to constantly keep maintenance on his only outfit.

“Um, if you don’t mind…how did you lose your leg, Y/N.” Nifa asks awkwardly, but curiously.

“Well, lack of sun and lack of nutrients tends to make humans weak. Mix an injury with a weak body, and you get an infection that doesn’t want to go away.” Y/N explains. “Levi always got me medicine, but they weren’t working very well.”

Levi grimaces as he reminiscences on past memories. “Her leg looked like it was from Hell itself. That thing was all black and purple with-…”

Y/N nudges his shoulder as she notices the grossed out faces on the girls. “Don’t gross them out.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Point is, an underground operation would have killed her anyway. Y/N was destined to die.”

“But when Erwin came to get Levi, he agreed to go on the promise that I also get brought to the surface for medical treatment.” Y/N taps her metal leg. “Thankfully they also gave me this nifty leg so I can still walk.”

Mina clasps her hands together. “I’m glad you’re still here, Y/N. You help keep this place running smoothly.”

With being disabled, Y/N is not able to fight titans, so Erwin gave her the job of doing the clerical tasks like paperwork, record keeping, and holding down the morale amongst the soldiers.

“Y/N has the perfect job because she likes to talk a lot.” Levi unnecessarily.

Nifa smirks. “Captain, when are you going to propose?”

“Alright, time for me to go do something else now.” Levi smooths his pants as he stands to leave.

Y/N rolls her eyes as the girls start laughing.

[nanamis-baker]

Blunt Blade

Summary: You come home from work to find Nanami cleaning his blade, but the blade is used for something else.

Pairing: sorcerer! Nanami x reader

Content: Nsfw, 18+ only, Smut, light bondage + blindfold, riding object, edging, creampie, light spanking, choking and more?

WC: 5.2k (I get carried away)

a/n: I woke up horny with this idea, so this is mainly self-indulgence but I kind of went overboard with it so yeah...

Also, it's proofread, but I was enjoying a pizza while proofreading it so don't trust my words lmaooo.

But I hope you'll enjoy it! Happy reading!!

Your keys jingled a soft melody as you unlocked the front door, the familiar scent of home washing over you like a warm embrace. Stepping inside, you caught sight of Nanami through the living room doorway. He sat on the plush couch, bathed in the warm glow of the lamplight, meticulously wrapping his freshly cleaned blade in a new white and black cloth. The movements seemed to slow as you entered. He finished wrapping his blade, securing it behind his back with ease, the muscles of his arms bunching momentarily beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He rose to his feet, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze drifted down your form, a boldness replacing its usual stoicism. A slow smirk played on your lips. You'd chosen the right outfit today – a simple black silk dress that skimmed your curves, the hem ending just above your knees.

He made his way towards you as you slipped off your shoes. Ever the gentleman, Nanami knelt before you and helped you out of your heels, unbuckling the straps as you held onto his shoulders for support. He stood up and helped you remove your coat, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder, sending a shiver through you. His eyes met yours, clouded by a dark intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You look beautiful, darling," he murmured, his voice husky as his fingers toyed with the thin strap of the dress. "Was it something special today?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. His other hand trailed up your body, a slow exploration that travelled from your thighs to your hips before settling on the small of your back, pulling you against his hard body with a possessiveness that thrilled you.

"No, just running some errands," you hummed, a slight tremor running through your voice as his hand moved in soothing circles over your lower back. The strap of your dress now rested precariously against your upper arm, exposing the tempting swell of your chest. Nanami's finger trailed a teasing path down your collarbone, sending goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He was close - so close to you. His cologne, mixed with a hint of aftershave and sweat, surrounded you, a heady mixture that went straight to your core.

"Did it include distracting me, by any chance?" he murmured as his lips ghosted over your shoulder. His breath was hot against your neck, sending a delicious heat blossoming in your chest. "Because trust me, beautiful," he continued, his voice husky and laced with desire, "it's working.”

Before you could reply, Nanami closed the distance between you, your lips clashing against each other’s. His kiss wasn't gentle. It was a searing brand - his lips hot against yours, the taste of vanilla from the lip balm you'd swiped earlier tingling on your tongue.

His hands, so sure and confident, roamed all over the curves of your body with a hungry urgency. One hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing a demanding path across your cheek and your jawline. The other found the bare skin of your back, sending a gasp escaping your lips. Your reaction encouraged Nanami as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding further into your mouth.

You clung to him, your own hands tangled in his hair, the strands so soft against your fingertips. You pressed yourself impossibly closer, returning his kiss with equal desperation, the frantic thud of your heart hammering a wild rhythm against his chest. A sliver of moonlight speared through the window, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw. A soft whimper escaped your throat, causing Nanami to groan into the kiss.

He tore himself away from your lips, leaving you gasping for air. Your chest heaved in ragged unison with his as his lips trailed down your jaw. His breath tickled your skin, as a tingle danced all over your body. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, and you tilted your head back instinctively, offering him easier access. A strangled whimper escaped your lips as he nipped at the soft flesh, leaving a mark, the sharp sting barely registering through the haze of desire.

Soon enough, the other strap of your dress followed the same fate as the first one, leaving no support for your flimsy dress as it barely hung loosely around your chest. Nanami's hand, warm and calloused, brushed against your bare arm as he guided you towards the couch. A single, deliberate tug sent the dress cascading down your body in a slow, silent swirl, leaving the cool material to pool around your ankles.

Nanami’s gaze, heated and hungry, devoured you, taking in every inch of your body. His fingers brushed against your cheekbone as he said, “Turn around darling, I am not done looking at you,” his voice, tender yet commanding, echoed through you, causing you to follow instantly as you turned about, your back towards him.

You felt his heated gaze all over your back, your knees turning weak under his gaze, but a flicker of shyness bloomed in your chest. Maybe it was the vulnerability of your exposed back or the lack of any reaction on his face after his bold request. Heat crept up your skin, a blush not just of desire but of a sudden, unexpected hesitancy.

The warmth of Nanami's clothed chest pressed against your bare back, the fabric of his shirt and the leather of his suspenders feeling rough against your sensitive skin. His hands trailed down your arms, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His breath, hot and ragged, tickled the shell of your ear. "Feeling shy now, huh?" His voice was a husky murmur, laced with a hint of amusement that sent a pang of something… unexpected… straight to your core.

He continued, his nose nuzzling into the soft, heated skin of your neck, "We both know how you get when you are under me."

With a swift movement, he flipped you around and pushed you onto the couch. A gasp escaped your lips as you sank into the soft cushions. He hovered above you, his gaze devouring your skin, flushed with need - need for him. His warm hands trailed down your body, a deliberate exploration that sent electricity humming through you.

His touch lingered on the waistband of your underwear, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. He gently tugged the waistband, his eyes meeting yours, “Is this okay?” he asked, a request for permission - a shift in dynamics. The ball was in your court now.

But you wanted the ball to remain in his court only.

You nodded in reply, a little too eager. Nanami smirked, “Use your words, beautiful.” You groaned, frustrated, as you said, “Yes, Ken, it’s okay - more than okay.”

Satisfied with your answer, Nanami removed the fabric with a single, slow tug, sending the garment sliding down your legs, pooling around your ankles.

He latched onto your body, trailing kisses all over your skin. His kisses were a wildfire, trailing flames down your neck and across your collarbone - a delicious reminder of your raw vulnerability in his hands. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin behind your ear, a spark igniting where they met. His hand dipped lower, a slow, deliberate exploration that mapped the landscape of your body.

Nanami was on his knees now, settled between your legs, as he looked at your soaked core. His thumb traced your slit, the touch feather-light, causing you to hiss, “So wet already? We have barely begun, baby.” His lips met the soft skin of your inner thigh, and he bit down, hard, eliciting a choked gasp from your lips. His lips and teeth continued leaving their marks all over your thighs, while his thumb teased your wet slit, brushing over it, barely giving you the friction you craved.

“Kento, please, it’s t-too much,” you moaned out, desperation clear in your voice as you tugged his hair, pushing him towards your core.

“Darling, I haven’t even done anything,” he murmured against your skin, before his thumb found your clit, drawing tight circles over it. A loud moan escaped your lips as he teased your clit and his tongue plunged into your core, twisting and curling, brushing against all the right spots.

His tongue was soon replaced by his fingers, and he inserted two fingers inside you. “Fuck, Kento, just like that,” you breathed out, your head thrown back against the couch. Nanami smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. He added another finger, and you felt so full - so good - as he leaned down, using his other hand to spread your fold apart before giving your clit a hard suck, making your head spin.

He retracted his finger, leaving you empty, before his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him and burrowing his face into your folds. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling and pushing, as heat coiled low in your belly, a delicious ache that spread through your limbs.

He continued this, using his fingers, lips, tongue and thumb to his aid till you were falling apart under him, cumming all over his face and mouth, moaning so loudly that for a moment, you were afraid the neighbours would hear it.

But who cared about the neighbours when you had this hot, amazing man between your legs?

Nanami continued till the last wave of your orgasm faded away before he pulled back and licked his fingers clean, moaning appreciatively at your taste. He used your inner thigh to wipe away your wetness from his face, his nose and mouth brushing against the delicate skin.

A fresh wave of arousal hit you at that sight.

Nanami rose abruptly, breaking the heated contact. He stood tall, his form a silhouette against the dim light of the living room. Your breath hitched as you gazed up at his imposing figure, a delicious tremor running through you. He looked down at you, taking in your flushed body sprawled on the couch, his gaze lingering on all the places where he left his mark.

He didn't hesitate. In a swift movement, he scooped you up, the warmth of his body enveloping you as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands wrapping around his broad shoulders.

The kiss that followed was pure fire. His lips met yours with a demanding urgency, the taste of him causing you to groan loudly into the kiss. He held you tightly, his grip sending shivers down your spine as he carried you towards the bedroom. The buckle of his belt felt unforgivingly cold against your hot core, causing you to hiss against his lips. The room seemed to tilt, the world shrinking to just the two of you and the fierce heat building between you.

He lowered you onto the bed, the soft mattress enveloping you in its warmth. He lingered for a moment, his breath hot against your cheek as he grazed your forehead with a soft kiss. Then he pulled away, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

Reaching behind his back, he removed his blunt blade that was hooked to his suspenders. A dull thud echoed in the quiet room as he set it down on the nightstand beside the bed. Then, his hands found the buckle of his belt, the leather groaning softly as he removed it from the loops of his pants.

He paused, the belt dangling in his hand. A slow smile played on his lips as his gaze held yours. Anticipation crackled in the air, thick and electric. Without a word, he looped the belt through the buckle and extended the belt towards you. Understanding dawned quickly in your eyes. A thrill shot through you, a delicious mix of fear, eagerness and excitement.

You offered your wrists, the pulse points throbbing beneath your skin, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the thudding of your heart in your ears. His fingers brushed against your hand as he secured the belt around the wrists, the leather tightening with a satisfying click. He tested the hold, confidence brimming in his eyes. Then, with a practised movement, he attached the remaining end of the belt to the headboard, effectively pinning your hands above your head.

His gaze travelling from your face to your toes. “You look breathtaking,” He murmured. Here you were, completely naked and bound, while he stood next to you, fully clothed and free do to whatever he wanted. A fresh wave of wetness dripped down your folds at this realisation.

Nanami reached for his tie, removing it from his neck. His fingers worked fast as he removed the knot, his eyes lingering on your eyes and neck as if deciding where to use his tie. Seeing his obvious dilemma, you offered, “Well, you can always use two ties.” Nanami chuckled, the sound dark, and he replied, “I figured my hand would look better around your throat,” and with that, he lowered the makeshift blindfold over your eyes.

"Wait, Kento," you said, and his movement halted mid-tie. He immediately moved his hand back, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his features. Before he could speak, you continued, a husky, almost breathless whisper escaping your lips, "Wanna see you first.” You moved your leg, so your toe hooked onto the waistband of his pants.

A slow smile spread across Kento's face, washing away his earlier expression. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that travelled all over your body. His fingers brushed tantalizingly over your bare leg, a possessive touch that lingered just a beat too long. "Well, I can't say no to that," he finally conceded.

He grabbed your ankle, the hold rough. With a tug, he dragged your leg down until your arms were outstretched above your head, effectively tightening the hold of the belt. His gaze met yours, a challenge glinting in his dark eyes - reminding you of who held the cards here.

He reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with slow, deliberate movements. Each button undone was a promise, a sliver of skin revealed that sent a delicious heat coursing through you. Finally, the last button yielded, the fabric falling open to expose the taut muscles of his chest. He reached for his cuffs, unbuttoning them before sliding his shirt off, leaving his upper body bare for your hungry eyes.

His gaze, intense and unwavering, never left your eyes.

"Enjoying the show, darling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your core. A slow smile played on your lips. "Oh, it’s just getting started," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

He reached for his pants, the movement sending a ripple across his sculpted torso. With a slow, fluid motion, he removed them along with his boxers. Your breath hitched as you took in the entirety of him – a masterpiece of hard muscle and smooth skin bathed in the soft, warm light.

He was so perfect, it was ridiculous. Unfair even.

You wanted to run your hands down his body and feel those muscles under your fingers, but alas, you couldn’t do that. Bound and helpless, you were at his mercy.

Soon, too soon, he reached for his tie again. This time with the practised ease of his fingers, he secured it over your eyes, plunging your world into darkness. The only sound you could hear was the ragged rasp of your breaths and the pounding of your heart, a frantic drum echoing in the sudden silence.

Your senses were heightened. You felt your wetness trickle down onto the mattress below you.

For a time, silence stretched, thick and heavy. No sound of Nanami moving. You strained to hear him, to sense his presence, but there was nothing. The anticipation was agonizing - a delicious torture.

You squirmed against the bindings, a silent protest against your helplessness. Your legs rubbed together, a small act that created a spark of friction, a faint echo of the pleasure you craved.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on your ankle, the touch rough. He yanked your legs apart, spreading them as far as they would go, the unexpected movement causing a gasp to escape your lips. The mattress between your spread legs dipped as Nanami settled in, his warmth a tangible presence against your exposed skin.

A hand suddenly landed on your clit, a loud sound echoing in your bedroom. Pain and pleasure clouded your blindfolded eyes as you whimpered. His hands landed again and again until your whimpers turned into loud, unrestricted moans and the pain subsided till only pleasure remained.

Your folds were throbbing by the time he was done, tears coating your eyelashes, your throat dry. “Enjoyed that, beautiful?” Nanami asked, his breath soothing your heated folds. You nodded as you cried out, “Yes Kento yes! I did.”

You felt him smile against your skin before you felt his tongue tease your swollen clit, causing you to buck away. His tongue soothed your clit first, before he picked up pace, his fingers joining him as he ate you out. You were moaning, your walls tightening around his fingers with each thrust, his fingers brushing and curling against all the right spots.

Just as you were about to cum, a wave of frustration washed over you as Nanami's touch abruptly faltered. His fingers, which had relentlessly danced over your clit, now slowed to a tantalizing crawl. The lustful caress of his tongue against your core vanished, leaving behind a raw ache of yearning. "What...?" you gasped, your voice barely a whisper against the ragged rhythm of your breath.

He offered no explanation, but you felt his cheek move against your inner thigh. He was smiling. Then, with a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, he resumed his ministrations. His fingers rekindled the fire he'd put out, and his tongue flicked and teased, sending a jolt of anticipation skittering down your spine. You clung to the edge, desperate to fall over, but just as you felt the familiar pull towards oblivion, he'd withdraw once more, leaving you teetering on the brink.

The cycle repeated, a cruel game of push and pull that stretched time and frayed your nerves. Minutes bled into hours, or so it felt, each stolen moment of pleasure amplifying your frustration. You were a tangled mess of raw need, your moans a desperate plea for release.

All of a sudden, he disappeared, his fingers and tongue abruptly absent. A gasp tore from your lips, a primal sound of frustration and desire. You were left flushed and trembling, the phantom sensation of his touch burning on your skin.

Desperation clawed at you – not an itch, but an ache, a deep yearning that pulsed through your core. You strained against the restraints, the leather biting into your skin was insignificant compared to the fire raging within you.

The mattress beneath you was slick, wet with his spit and your wetness. The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air, a mix of his musk and your own desperate need. Vulnerability washed over you, a raw yearning that left you exposed and aching.

A sudden sensation brushed against your cheek, a cool contrast to your heated skin. It was cold, rough and hard, like steel wrapped in cloth. It trailed down your neck, the coolness of the object causing you to buck, before hovering tantalizingly above your peaked nipple. Anticipation crackled in the air as it circled, the touch deliberate yet teasing. Finally, it dipped down, the pressure increasing, as the rough material rubbed against your nipple, leaving it hot, raw and throbbing.

It moved to your other nipple, repeating the same process, till both of them were peaked to the point it hurt, red and raw.

Your chest was falling up and down rapidly, each breath a shallow wave against the heat building deep in your core, spreading all over your body. Suddenly, a jolt of awareness ripped through you, sharp and unexpected as you felt the shape of the object against your stomach.

The object pressed against your sensitive skin wasn't just cool metal. You froze, the realization crashing down on you like a physical blow. It was Nanami's blunt blade.

Nanami moved his clothed blade down your body, over your abdomen, before the blunt side of his blade brushed over your pelvis, settling over your needy clit. He moved the blade, its rough fabric providing delicious friction against your clit. But it was wrong, right? So wrong. After all, he uses it to kill his enemies!

“You want to cum, right?” You heard Nanami say as he continued moving the blade against your clit, giving you exactly what you needed “Use the blade then, cum all over it” he said, as he stopped moving the blade against you, forcing you to move your hips to get that delicious friction.

You whimpered with need. God, you wanted to use it, you needed to cum, but this felt wrong. “But Ken-” you began, but Nanami cut you off, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Use it - ride it for your pleasure.” he said, desire heavy in his voice, “I want to see you come undone all over it.” His fingers brushed over your temple, gently moving away the hair sticking to the side of your face.

It felt so good. The cool blade, the rough fabric, the delicious friction. And you knew it wouldn’t hurt you, not at all. So what was stopping you from taking what you wanted? Even Nanami wanted you to use it - so why the hesitation?

With that in mind, you surrendered to the cool sensation, your hips rising and falling in a mesmerizing rhythm against the blade. Nanami's gaze seemed to sear through the blindfold, his unspoken encouragement a delicious fire against your skin. “That’s it darling, move your hips like that,” he encouraged you and your orgasm was building, your walls clamping around nothing as your body was finally ready to let go.

His name was on your lips as your body arched, and with a scream, you came all over the clothed blade- Nanami’s blunt blade. Every nerve in your body was alive, the effect of the orgasm reaching your fingertips, your toes, making them curl. Your hips moved on their own, making to ride the blade till the last of your orgasms faded.

You lay sprawled on the bed, muscles trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Each ragged breath felt like a victory as you slowly brought your body back under control. A soft thud beside you startled you – it was the blade, you realised. Nanami’s finger brushed your cheekbone, as he reached to remove the tie tied around your eyes.

His lips brushed over your eyes, a fleeting touch that spoke more than words. He cupped your cheeks, his voice a low rumble as he praised you, "You did so good for me, such a good girl." You opened your eyes, blinking away the darkness as they adjusted to the light. You met his gaze, his pupils dilated - his eyes were so dark with desire, with raw need.

The itch was still there, but you knew precisely what - or who, actually, your body itched for. "Kento," you breathed, your voice hoarse with a raw desperation. "Take me, please," you whispered, the plea escaping your lips in a shaky gasp.

Nanami took in a sharp breath. You looked at his length, which was red and angry, swollen with need, pre-cum leaking out from the tip. You wanted to lick it away, to feel Nanami fuck your mouth, but above everything, you needed him inside you, painting your walls.

“Are you sure, honey? You just had a pretty intense orgasm,” He said, the concern heavy in his eyes. Despite what his body wanted - no, what his body needed, he was still focused on you. But you were sure of what you wanted.

“Yes Kento, please - I need you,” your legs rubbed against each other again, but all your body craved was the man standing in front of you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something before he finally, finally moved and settled down between your legs. With deliberate movement, he positioned himself against your entrance.

His lips trailed down your neck, each touch a whispered promise. He found your nipple, his tongue circling it with a gentle pressure that sent a delicious ache through your core. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he moved to your other breast, mirroring the exquisite torment.

He grabbed his length, his large hand wrapping around it as he entered into you. A gasp escaped your lips as he pressed against your entrance, the initial resistance delicious friction. Inch by inch, he moved deeper inside you, your walls struggling to take him - you felt so full already. But you knew there was more - a lot more.

When he was halfway through, Nanami began thrusting into you, going deeper and deeper into you with each thrust until he was fully settled inside you. You were so full, so sensitive and Nanami was stretching you out so well - God, you loved it.

Nanami began with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust a deep exploration that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the shift within him, the control he'd held loosening as desire took hold. It was a delicious surrender, watching him succumb to the same fire burning in you.

His pace quickened, echoing the rising urgency within you. Every powerful surge sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a gasp escaping your lips with each satisfying thrust. The heat intensified, blooming outwards from your core, and your moans became a desperate chorus, a plea that mirrored his own.

His voice, thick with raw need, tore through the haze of your desire. “You take me so well, darling,” he groaned, “Always so well."

You locked eyes with Nanami, a reflection of your flushed desire staring back at you. His hair, usually styled back, clung to his forehead in damp tendrils, mirroring the sheen of sweat that glistened on your skin. His chest, a canvas of taut muscle, heaved with exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his body.

His hands roamed your body with hunger. They lingered on the taut skin of your stomach, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers dipped below, exploring the sensitive curves.

His thumb brushed tantalizingly across your nipple, causing you to throw your head back. He circled it gently, a slow and deliberate torture, before his fingers joined the dance, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You struggled against the belt holding your hand back, desperate to touch him, to feel those muscles of his back, but it was futile.

His pace grew more urgent, mirroring the frantic rhythm of your breath. You arched your back into his touch, a wordless plea for more, for release from the delicious torment.

He let out a guttural growl above you, the sound vibrating through you. His hand snaked out, brushing against your cheek before coming to rest on your throat. "I was right," he murmured, his voice a husky rasp against your ear. "My hand looks far better than my tie." His hand tightened, limiting your supply of oxygen.

Abruptly, Nanami stopped and pulled back almost all the way out. He stayed there for a second, before driving into you with such force that it knocked the air out of your lungs, causing you to gasp, but there was only so much you could do against his hand choking you.

His cock throbbed inside you, his veins pulsing as his thrusts grew even more desperate. You were struggling against his hand, and you felt his hold loosen, “Breathe honey,” he said, and as you gulped for air, his hands tightened yet again.

“You are taking it so well,” he groaned, “Just a little more and we will be done, sweetheart.” His thrusts had turned brutal, merciless - his hold on your throat unforgiving, yet you enjoyed every second of it. Wanted more, craved more.

Your walls tightened around his cock, clamping down on him, “Kento…” you began, and felt his hold loosen again. “I am so close” you rasped out.

“I know I know, honey, let it go.” His hand left your throat and settled on your clit, drawing quick 8’s on it. Soon enough, you were moaning, screaming, squirming, as you came all over his cock, your orgasm blinding you for a second as it took over every inch of your body. You felt it in every muscle, every tendon, every cell. Your skin burned but Nanami did not stop as he chased his own release.

Finally, his thrust turned sloppy, uncoordinated, as he moaned above you, his orgasm taking over him and his white hot release filled you. He fucked you through his orgasm, drawing out every last bit of it until your walls had squeezed him dry.

With a groan that coursed through you, Nanami settled beside you, the weight of his body a welcome press against yours. Both of you fought to catch your breath, ragged gasps escaping your lips in a shared rhythm.

He turned his head, his breath warm against your cheek as he nuzzled the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exertion and something deeper, a raw tenderness that sent a fresh wave of shivers down your spine.

You tried to reach up, to trace the sharp, damp line of his jaw, but the binding of your arms held you back. A flicker of frustration crossed your features, quickly replaced by a sigh of relief as Nanami, as if sensing your desire, reached up and undid the belt. The leather loosened, allowing your arms to fall free with a gentle thud against the mattress.

He sat up, his movements slow and deliberate. His gaze met yours, and without a word, he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as his fingers began to massage your shoulders. The tight muscles, knotted with tension, loosened under his ministrations, a wave of relief washing over you with each circular motion.

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft moan as his touch worked its magic. The sharp ache in your muscles began to dull, replaced by a pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

He stopped his massage as his arms wrapped around you, a secure and comforting hold. Pulling you closer, he nestled his face in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. A soft kiss landed on your forehead, a sweet and intimate gesture.

"You are amazing," he murmured against your hair, his voice a husky rumble that sent a delicious warmth through you. A blush crept up your neck, a mixture of pleasure and shyness at his praise. “You did so well.”

He cupped your jaw, his touch gentle yet firm, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. There was tenderness in his eyes. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, a slow exploration that promised more to come. When he finally pulled away, a slow smile played on his lips. "How does a bath sound, honey?" he asked, his voice a husky invitation.

You nodded against his chest - your throat felt too raw to say anything. Nanami smiled, “I’ll get the water running, then.”

a/n: did I get carried away? I feel like I did lol.

Anyway, I got hot and bothered while writing it, so I hope you also had a similar reaction while reading it!

Please let me know what you thought about it! I always smile whenever I see a notification about a like, reblog, or even a comment because it's just so sweet.

Also, tagging @whereflowerswenttodie just because.

Divider by @/benkeibear and @/cafekitsune. Please check them out, they have AMAZING resources!

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ MY ALCOHOL DIARY ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

[ENG SUB] Luna’s Drunken Truths?🌙 A New Side You’ve Never Seen Before ✨🍻 [Nothing Much Prepared]

synopsis: Luna is here! Luna joins Youngji for some laughs, deep talks, and a few fun surprises on this episode of My Alcohol Diary.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

Lee Youngji, in her typical lively fashion, was seen darting around her cozy apartment, her slippers barely keeping up with her hurried steps. The camera followed her movements closely as she rushed from one corner of the room to the other, adjusting chairs, straightening the table, and arranging food and drinks with a touch of anxious energy.

Plates of snacks, ranging from fried chicken to Korean side dishes, lined the table, all meticulously laid out. Bottles of soju, beer, and soda stood ready in perfect rows— except today, there was something a little extra on display.

Youngji glanced back at the neatly arranged bottles of red and white wine with a look that was half-pride, half-nervousness. “Ya, seriously, look at me. Expensive wine! Since when do I buy expensive wine?” She muttered to herself with a dramatic flair as her small crew, seated off at the front, watched her, biting back smiles.

“She looks like someone who drinks the good stuff, okay? She’s got that vibe. Like… luxury.” Her hand fluttered nervously over the bottles again, repositioning them for the third time.

One of the writers snickered, causing Youngji to spin around, her face an exaggerated mix of panic and excitement. “I’m not kidding! You all don’t understand. She’s… she’s intimidating! She hasn’t even arrived yet, and I’m already shaking. Hoshi warned me! He was here a few months ago, and I messaged him and asked him about her. You know what he said?” She paused dramatically, eyes wide, as though she were telling a ghost story.

The crew leaned in, intrigued by the suspense she was building.

“He told me,” she whispered, eyes darting to the camera as if someone might overhear her secret, “that she doesn’t drink beer because she doesn’t like the taste.”

This revelation was met with a burst of laughter from her crew. Youngji threw her hands up, pacing in front of the table. “Can you imagine?! I only had beer! What am I going to do? Should I just… drink by myself?” She exaggeratedly reached for one of the wine bottles and opened it, pouring herself a glass of white. She sipped, her brows furrowing slightly as she tasted the drink. "That's why I got this."

“I bought the expensive kind,” she said, swirling the glass. “You know why? Because she gives off that expensive vibe. Like… a black credit card kind of energy.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say, You know what I mean, before taking another sip.

“Ah, this is why I dressed up today! Look at me.” She gestured to her outfit— an unusually stylish ensemble compared to her usual casual attire. “I had to. I want her to like me! I mean, I usually just wear whatever I find first in my closet, but today? No way. I had to step it up.”

The staff erupted in laughter again, knowing full well that Youngji was half-joking but also genuinely nervous. She glanced at the camera again, then sighed dramatically, collapsing onto the couch, wine glass in hand. “I’m doomed. What if she doesn’t laugh at my jokes? What if she just stares at me with those intimidating eyes, and I crumble?” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, peeking out from between her fingers before groaning and sitting up.

“I swear, if she doesn’t like me, I’ll blame you guys,” she said, pointing accusingly at the staff. “You’re supposed to make me look good, and here I am looking like a nervous wreck.” She waved her arms dramatically, showcasing the haphazardly arranged table and the slightly cluttered apartment.

Her crew laughed again, and Youngji couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “Okay, okay, enough with the nerves. I’ve got this. Right?” She gave the camera a confident look, only to immediately second-guess herself. “No? You don’t think I’ve got this? Well, we’ll see.”

“No, I can do this,” she said, trying to hype herself up. “I just need to relax, right? Right. I mean, I’m Lee Youngji, damn it. I can make anyone laugh.”

The camera cut to a shot of her crew trying not to laugh too loudly as Youngji stared dramatically at her glass, muttering to herself once more, “Yeah… even Luna…”

With one last glance at the table, Youngji nodded to herself and turned back to the camera, her smile wide and her energy high.

“Alright, guys. Stay tuned. Because today… a princess is coming.”

Youngji, still buzzing with nervous energy, paced back and forth across the small living room as she adjusted the two large boxes of pizza on the table. She glanced at the red and white wine bottles once more, nodding to herself. "Okay, so we've got options," she muttered under her breath, pushing her hair back as she opened a drawer beneath the table.

With a swift motion, she pulled out a bottle of soju and— after a bit of rummaging— a bottle of gin.

"Just in case," she told herself as she placed them both down. She then turned to her crew, who had been quietly laughing at her antics from the sidelines. “I mean, what if she’s like, ‘Oh, I don't want to drink wine today,’ and then I look like a bad host? Can’t have that. So, variety!" She tapped the gin bottle with a grin. "This one’s a wildcard. I’ve never even had gin before.”

One of the writers laughed. “Are you gonna try it before she gets here?”

Youngji widened her eyes. "I mean… yeah, why not? Let’s see what we’re working with." She grabbed the gin bottle, twisting the cap open. The strong, herbal smell hit her instantly, making her reel back with an exaggerated grimace. “Woah! Okay! Wow, it smells like… it smells like it's gonna end me. This stuff smells dangerous.”

Her crew chuckled, egging her on as she poured a shot. With a deep breath, she threw back the shot, and her entire face contorted in an instant. She physically recoiled, her shoulders pulling in tight as she squeezed her eyes shut, barely suppressing a full-body shiver.

"Yeah, nope. That’s definitely strong," she gasped, blinking rapidly as she set the shot glass down on the table with more force than intended. “She’s definitely not going to like this. I mean, if she doesn’t like the taste of beer, this is gonna be a hard no.”

Just as she continued joking with the director about their drink options, the doorbell suddenly rang, cutting through the chatter.

Everyone froze.

There was a collective intake of breath from the crew as they turned toward the door, eyes wide.

Youngji’s eyes darted around the room before landing on the intercom on the wall. "Oh my god, she’s here! Guys, she's here!" she whispered, her hands flailing. In her excitement, she tripped over her own feet, catching herself on the back of the chair with a laugh. "Why am I like this?!"

Still panicking, she scrambled to the intercom, pressing the button to reveal a small screen showing a grainy video of Luna standing outside, waiting patiently at the door.

The camera zoomed in on Luna’s soft, bright features framed by her stylishly casual pink top, which showed off a glimpse of her effortless, chic vibe.

“Who is it?” Youngji asked, her voice playful, but she couldn’t hide the excitement.

“It’s Luna,” came the soft, melodic response from the other side, followed by a smile from the girl on screen. Luna’s face lit up with warmth as her voice echoed through the small apartment.

“Oh my god!” Youngji squealed before she dramatically slid down the wall in slow motion, as though the weight of meeting Luna in person had become too much to bear. Her crew burst into laughter, the room filling with their amusement as Youngji sat crumpled on the floor. “Why is she so pretty?! It’s not fair!” she wailed, covering her face with both hands.

Suddenly, as if struck by a lightning bolt of energy, Youngji shot to her feet and sprinted toward another room. “I need to put on perfume!” she yelled, disappearing into the hallway, her crew doubling over with laughter.

After a moment, Youngji reappeared, the perfume forgotten, trying to catch her breath. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself, and began to hum the chorus of “HOT” by SEVENTEEN as if to hype herself up. “Alright, let’s go!” she muttered, pacing back and forth again. “I’m fine… I can do this…”

She grabbed the gin bottle one more time, pouring another shot, and before she could second-guess herself, she downed it with a wince. “Nope. Still gross,” she whispered to no one in particular, her face scrunched up as she cringed once more. Shaking off the burn, she rushed toward the door.

“Who is it?” she asked again, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

There was a soft laugh from the other side. “It’s Luna. It’s me.”

Youngji, dramatic as ever, slid down the door this time, her body slowly crumpling to the floor in a display of exaggerated defeat as her crew lost it, their laughter echoing throughout the room.

After a moment, she finally gathered herself, stood up with a playful determination, and opened the door. "Hello!"

There, in the doorway, stood Luna, her radiant smile soft and welcoming. She was dressed in a pastel pink top, casually draped over a cropped white tube top, paired with light-washed jeans that hugged her figure effortlessly. Her hair fell in gentle waves, her expression relaxed yet excited as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion shoot without trying too hard.

Youngji blinked, her jaw dropping slightly as she took in the sight before her. “Oh, wow,” she whispered, not quite realizing she’d said it out loud.

As Youngji opened the door, her eyes quickly darted to the box Luna was holding, wrapped in simple, elegant paper with a delicate ribbon tied around it. Without a second thought, she reached out and gently fussed over the box.

“Oh, no, no, no— give that to me. You shouldn't be holding that!” Youngji exclaimed, reaching for the box, her tone full of concern. She took it from Luna’s hands, cradling it carefully, as if it were something fragile.

Luna chuckled softly, bowing slightly to the crew and waving at the camera with a warm, easy smile. "Hello, everyone!" she greeted, her voice lilting and sweet as she gave the camera a quick wave. She looked genuinely pleased to be there, her smile growing wider as the crew responded with a collective greeting.

While Luna faced the camera, Youngji couldn't help but admire her from the back. The way Luna carried herself was effortless yet graceful— her top hanging perfectly over her shoulders, the soft, pink fabric catching the light. Youngji's eyes traced the loose waves of Luna’s hair and how they cascaded down her back.

She sighed under her breath. "How is she this pretty, though?"

After Luna finished greeting the crew, she turned her attention back to Youngji, her smile never faltering. “Youngji, it’s so good to finally see you in person,” she exclaimed.

Youngji, caught off guard by her own admiring thoughts, blinked and smiled back. “I know, right? It feels like we’ve been trying to schedule this for forever! Come in, sit, sit!” she urged, motioning to the table. She gently placed the box she had taken from Luna on the table as Luna took a seat across from her.

Youngji’s curiosity piqued, she glanced at the box again and asked, "So, what's in here? Is it for me?" Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement.

Luna nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. “Yes, it’s a gift. I wanted to bring something special since I’ve known I’d be coming on your show for a while now.”

With wide eyes, Youngji carefully opened the box, peeling back the ribbon and lifting the lid with anticipation. Inside, nestled carefully in soft tissue paper, was a stunningly beautiful set of plates, cups, spoons, and forks— each piece looked intricately designed, with delicate patterns running along the edges. The set had an unmistakable elegance, the kind that screamed of fine craftsmanship. The plates and cups shimmered subtly under the lights, the porcelain pristine and polished, accented by gold and silver trimming.

Youngji gasped loudly, her mouth falling open as she froze for a moment, simply staring. “No way!” she finally breathed out. “This is— this is beautiful!” She turned the box towards her crew, showing them the set, and instantly, the room erupted into murmurs of amazement.

One of the staff members leaned in to get a closer look, and their director let out a low whistle. "Wow, that looks expensive," one of them commented.

“It is!” Youngji exclaimed, her eyes still wide. “Luna, why would you give me something this pretty? I don’t deserve this!” She looked up at Luna, completely stunned.

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “I was in Paris for a schedule a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I know you like hosting and cooking on your show, so I figured you might appreciate something like this. Plus, I love pretty cutlery and tableware myself,” she added with a grin, “so I thought you might enjoy it too.”

Youngji blinked, processing Luna’s words as she gently ran her fingers over the smooth surface of one of the plates. “Wait, so you’ve been planning this? You thought of me while you were in Paris?” She sounded both flattered and bewildered, her voice growing a little softer as she spoke.

Luna nodded earnestly. “Yes. I wanted to get you something meaningful, and I knew I’d be coming here, so I wanted it to be special.”

Suddenly, Youngji stood up from her chair, bowing deeply on the ground in a dramatic fashion. "Thank you so much. I feel so honored! I don’t think I’ve ever received something this thoughtful in my life!” She remained bent at the waist, her voice filled with gratitude.

Luna’s laughter filled the room, the sound light and full of warmth. “Youngji, you don’t have to bow like that!” she said between giggles, waving her hands. “It’s just a gift. I’m happy you like it.”

As Youngji straightened up, she grinned from ear to ear. “Like it? I love it! I’m never going to let anyone else touch these— ever. They’re going into a glass case!” She cradled the box as if it were a precious relic.

The room was filled with laughter as the two women continued to gush over the gift.

Youngji leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity. “Okay, okay, let’s start this thing right,” she said, clasping her hands together dramatically. “So, I heard from Hoshi…” she paused for effect, glancing at Luna as if to prepare her for the big reveal, “…that you don’t drink beer?”

Luna laughed, a little sheepish as she nodded. “Yeah, beer’s really not my thing. I don’t like the taste.”

With an exaggerated nod, Youngji clapped her hands together. “I knew it! That’s why,” she gestured toward the small bar set up next to them, “I prepared an assortment of drinks for you. I thought, you know, options! Since you’re not a beer girl.” She stood up, making a grand gesture as she presented the collection of spirits and mixers she had lined up.

Luna raised her eyebrows in surprise, genuinely impressed. “Wow, this is… a lot. You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I know, but you deserve it,” Youngji said with a wink. “So, let’s see what we’ve got here. There’s soju, white wine, red wine, even some gin.” She paused, her expression suddenly serious as she pointed at one of the bottles. “I tried the gin earlier, and, to be honest, I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.”

Luna, instead of shying away as Youngji had expected, tilted her head and smiled. “I think I’ll try the gin, actually.”

The room fell into a brief silence.

“Wait, really?” Youngji blinked in disbelief, holding the bottle like it might bite. “You’re sure? Gin’s pretty strong, you know…”

Luna nodded confidently, her calm demeanor unwavering. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.”

Youngji eyed her suspiciously, but with a shrug, she began to pour two shots into small glasses. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As the gin splashed into the glasses, Luna leaned back casually in her chair. “The only alcohol I don’t drink is beer,” she deadpanned, her voice so even and serious that it took a second for the joke to register. “And rubbing alcohol,” she added after a beat.

The room burst into laughter, including Youngji, who was nearly doubling over as she placed the gin bottle back on the table. “Oh my God, Luna, please!” she cackled, her voice high-pitched with mock of amusement. “You’re a comedian!”

Luna grinned, taking the glass from Youngji’s hand and raising it. “Cheers?”

Youngji straightened up and mirrored her, though her expression was still one of doubt. “Cheers!” They clinked their glasses together before tilting their heads back and downing the shots.

What shocked everyone in the room wasn’t Youngji, who immediately cringed and shuddered as if she had just been electrocuted— her whole body recoiling from the harsh bite of the gin.

It was Luna, who didn’t even flinch. She set her glass back down on the table without as much as a twitch, her face a picture of calm serenity, as if she had just taken a sip of water rather than a strong gin.

Youngji, still recovering, blinked at her in awe. “What the—” she stammered, her voice almost a whisper. “You didn’t even move!”

The crew let out murmurs of admiration, their eyes wide as they continued to marvel at Luna’s steely composure.

Luna laughed softly, raising her shoulders in a playful shrug. “What can I say? I’m just built differently.”

Youngji stared at her for a moment longer, completely shocked, before shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re scary, Luna,” she finally declared, making the crew chuckle. “Like, seriously.”

Luna’s laughter filled the room again, light and warm. “Oh, come on, I’m not scary!”

Youngji raised her hands, gesturing dramatically toward Luna’s cool composure. “This is exactly what I mean! Who takes gin like that? Scary.”

Luna shook her head, still smiling. “You’re too much.”

Wiping away an imaginary tear, Youngji straightened up in her chair and cleared her throat. “Alright, alright,” she began, transitioning the conversation with a more serious tone, “I just have to get this out of the way— because it’s been on my mind for a while.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, curious but smiling. “Oh? What is it?”

Youngji leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “You… intimidate me,” she confessed with a laugh, though there was a slight hint of truth in her tone. “Like, seriously. I don’t know why, but I was so nervous before meeting you!”

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyebrow lifting in amusement. “You’re not the first to say that,” she replied, her voice light and almost teasing. “I get that a lot, actually.”

Youngji’s eyes widened slightly as she sat back, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Luna nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. Ever since I was younger, people would always tell me I gave off that vibe,” she explained with a shrug. “Even during my trainee years, people thought I was kind of… scary, I guess.”

Youngji tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “But, like, you’re so chill. Did that ever bother you? People thinking you’re intimidating?”

For a moment, Luna hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table as she considered the question. Then, she shook her head. “It used to when I was younger. It kind of got to me because I thought, ‘Why do people think that about me? I’m not like that at all.’” She paused, her voice soft but steady. “But I realized, you know, people are gonna believe what they want to believe. And usually, once they get to know me, that impression changes.”

Youngji nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Luna’s words. “So it doesn’t offend you anymore?”

Luna shook her head again, more firmly this time. “No, not really. I mean, it’s a part of life, right? First impressions aren’t always accurate.” She chuckled softly before glancing toward the cameras where the director and staff were sitting, her eyes twinkling with humor. “I’m not a scary person, I promise,” she called out to them, making everyone laugh. “My face just looks like this! It’s my resting face.”

Youngji burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “See, this is why you’re dangerous! The duality!”

Luna couldn’t help but join in, her laughter filling the room as Youngji playfully fanned herself, pretending to recover from the “shock” of Luna’s words.

Youngji clinked her glass lightly against Luna's before refilling both their glasses with gin, the clear liquid sloshing in the light. She squinted at Luna mischievously, a playful grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Alright, Luna-ssi,” she said, leaning forward a little, eyebrows raised in faux suspicion, “I wanna hear some things about your drinking habits. What’s the deal? You don’t like drinking beer, but... for some reason like gin. What’s your alcohol tolerance, hm?” Her words came out with that infectious energy she was known for, her curiosity a mix of casual but always playful.

Luna, who had been comfortably sitting, looked amused at the question. She let out a light laugh, glancing down at the gin-filled glass in front of her. “Well,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “I don’t really like drinking that much. I guess you could say I’m more of a social drinker. I mean... I drink when it’s for occasions like this—” she gestured around to Youngji and the cameras. “—but I don’t usually go out of my way for it.”

Youngji leaned in closer, her eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. “Oh come on, you have to give me more than that! What about your tolerance? You seem like you could hold your own.”

Luna chuckled, shaking her head. “Actually, I do have a pretty high alcohol tolerance.” She paused, taking the glass and swirling the gin around as if she were contemplating it deeply. “But... I’m going to be honest, I think this gin is going to end me tonight.”

That comment got a chorus of laughter from the crew, and Youngji burst into giggles, almost spilling her own drink in the process. “That’s what I thought!” Youngji exclaimed, slapping her knee. “Gin is no joke! It’s like... it’s like a slap in the face.”

Luna grinned, raising the glass to her lips but pausing to add, “But don’t get me wrong— I’m not saying I can’t handle it. It’s just... you know… It’s strong.”

Youngji dramatically recoiled back into her chair, waving her hands. “No, no. You’re too calm about this. If you’ve got a high tolerance, I’m scared for my own life now.” Her voice dropped in mock fear, and she glanced towards the crew with an exaggerated wide-eyed expression.

Luna deadpanned, looking Youngji squarely in the eye. “Youngji-ah... you’re not normal.”

Youngji cackled so hard she nearly fell out of her chair, grabbing the edge of the table for support as she doubled over in laughter. Her laughter was infectious, and soon, everyone in the room was laughing along with her, the absurdity of the situation settling over them like a warm blanket.

Still recovering, Youngji wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “I—” she began, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She held her hands up in surrender but was still chuckling. “I’ll tone it down.”

Luna just shook her head, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry about it,” she replied smoothly, her calm demeanor only adding to the comedic contrast of the situation. “I’m used to it. Besides, I work with thirteen guys. Crazy is... pretty much my normal.”

That comment earned another round of laughter from the crew, and even Youngji was back to cackling, clapping her hands. “Touché! Oh my God, you’ve definitely been through it.”

Luna gave a knowing nod, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “You have no idea.”

As the laughter died down, Youngji straightened herself in her chair, taking her glass of gin again. “Alright, alright,” she said, breathing deeply as if preparing for battle. “Here we go, another shot of gin— because I’m trying to be brave in front of Luna.”

Luna gave her a mock-serious nod like she was some kind of alcohol sensei. “Good luck,” she said solemnly, lifting her own glass. They clinked glasses once more and threw back their drinks, Youngji immediately cringing as the gin hit her throat.

“Aghhh!” Youngji exclaimed, shaking her head violently as the strong alcohol sent a wave of heat through her chest. “I’m... alive... but barely.”

Luna, on the other hand, took her shot like a pro, setting the glass down with a cool, calm expression. “Not bad,” she said casually.

Youngji stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “How are you so calm?! Do you not have taste buds or something? That was like drinking fire!”

Luna chuckled, but her expression remained almost too composed. “You just need practice,” she said, her voice light and teasing. The crew burst into laughter once again at her nonchalant attitude, while Youngji just pointed at Luna in mock accusation.

“You are terrifying. Absolutely terrifying,” Youngji declared, pretending to back away from her guest as if she were dangerous.

Luna finally let out a real laugh, shaking her head. “I promise, I’m not that scary,” she reassured her, though the grin on her face said otherwise.

“Well, Luna,” Youngji sighed, leaning back in her chair dramatically. “I think I’ve learned something today— never challenge Luna to a drinking contest.” She pointed at the camera as if issuing a public service announcement. “Don’t do it. You will lose.”

The two shared another laugh, the playful energy between them making the room feel alive.

Youngji leaned back in her chair, eyes sparkling with the mischievous curiosity that made her such a great host. “So…” she started, a playful tone creeping into her voice as she transitioned to English, “I heard you’re from London.”

Luna raised her eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Oh, you heard?” she teased. She knew this topic would come up eventually— it always did.

“Yeah!” Youngji exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat as she grabbed her glass for another sip. “I’ve been dying to ask you about that. So, you grew up in Kensington, right?”

Luna smiled warmly, nodding. “Yeah, I was born and raised there.”

Youngji’s eyes widened as if she had just been handed some earth-shattering news. “Kensington! That sounds so fancy! Isn’t that where all the rich people live?” Her tone was exaggerated, causing Luna to burst out laughing.

“It’s not that fancy,” Luna tried to downplay it, still giggling. “But yeah, it’s a nice area.”

Youngji leaned in dramatically, narrowing her eyes. “So, do you have that proper British accent? Like the ones in movies? Can you say something like—” she thought for a second, then added in the most over-the-top British accent she could manage, “Would you like a cup of tea, madam?”

Luna doubled over laughing, holding up her hand. “No, no, no— oh my God, that accent!” she exclaimed, barely able to get the words out. “That’s like… a parody of what people think British people sound like!”

Youngji grinned, not backing down. “Oh, come on! You gotta give me something! Is your accent like that?”

Luna shook her head, still laughing. “My accent’s softer now,” she explained. “It used to be a lot deeper when I was younger. Very English. But I’ve lived abroad so long now, it’s kind of… faded. Plus, I’ve been in Korea for years, so it’s not as strong as it used to be.”

Youngji’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “Ooooh, so you were, like, super British when you were little?”

Luna nodded, a fond smile crossing her lips. “Yeah, I was very much the stereotypical British kid— mummy can I have some more cake,” she said in a perfect British accent, throwing her hand up in an exaggerated way that made Youngji cackle in delight. “My mom loved to bake, so I would say that a lot.”

“There it is!” Youngji pointed at her, laughing. “That’s the accent I wanted to hear! You sounded like you just walked out of a Harry Potter!”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully. “I mean, it’s still there… when I’m really tired, frustrated, or angry, it comes out more.”

Youngji leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Okay, I have to hear you speak when tired then.”

Luna smirked, raising her glass. “Maybe after a few more drinks. We’ll see.”

Youngji grinned at the challenge. “I’ll hold you to that!”

They both clinked their glasses, and the atmosphere between them relaxed and filled with a playful energy.

“So, what’s it like growing up there?” Youngji asked, refilling Luna’s glass. “It sounds so glamorous.”

Luna shrugged casually, swirling the gin in her glass. “I mean, it was… nice, but it wasn’t all that different from growing up anywhere else, I guess. Except maybe the weather— it’s London, mostly gloomy. It rains a lot.”

Youngji scrunched her nose in mock disgust. “Oh no, I’d hate that. I need sunshine to survive.”

Luna laughed. “Yeah, me too! Gloomy weather makes me feel like I’m sick but I do miss it sometimes.”

Youngji tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing again as if something had just dawned on her. “Wait, does that mean you drank tea all the time? Isn’t that, like, a thing in the UK?”

Luna deadpanned, her voice dropping to a flat, mock-serious tone. “Yes. Tea is basically our water.”

Youngji burst out laughing again, clutching her stomach. “I knew it! I knew it was real!”

Luna grinned, shaking her head. “No, but seriously—everyone drinks tea. It’s a big deal.”

“Did you ever go to those fancy tea parties?” Youngji asked, still giggling.

Luna snorted. “What do you think, we all sit around in gowns drinking tea out of gold cups? It’s not like that!”

Youngji threw her head back laughing. “I was imagining you in one of those big hats and everything!”

“Yeah, no,” Luna chuckled. “It was mostly just normal attire with a cup of tea.”

Youngji wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, shaking her head. “Oh my God, you’re destroying all my British fantasies.”

“Good,” Luna said, raising her glass again. “Someone needed to.”

The two of them burst into laughter once more, the conversation flowing seamlessly between playful banter and genuine curiosity. Every now and then, Luna’s British accent would slip out, only to send Youngji into another fit of giggles as she begged her to keep talking like that.

Youngji, still giggling from their last exchange about tea parties, reached for the bottle of gin and poured them both another shot. “Okay, one more,” she said with a playful grin, raising her glass. Luna winced but smiled, nodding in agreement. They clinked their glasses together, and with a quick breath, they downed the shots.

Luna’s face immediately scrunched up as the gin burned its way down her throat. “Oh my God,” she groaned, setting her glass down as if it had personally offended her. “I’m starting to feel it.”

Youngji, equally as dramatic, smacked her lips, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “How do people drink this for fun?!” she exclaimed, fanning her face.

Luna laughed, “I don’t know… we are doing it right now though.”

Youngji burst out laughing again, slumping back into her chair. “Girl— you’re right, girl!”

Still recovering from the shot, Youngji tapped her fingers on the table, curiosity creeping into her expression. “So,” she began, “I’ve always wondered… Why did you want to become an idol? And how was it adjusting to moving to Korea?”

Luna took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair as she smiled a little to herself. “Honestly, it shocked me as much as anyone else,” she started. “I was a ballerina back in London, you know.”

Youngji’s eyes lit up, and she pointed at Luna with exaggerated confidence. “I know! You were!”

Luna couldn’t help but chuckle at how proud Youngji sounded, but she continued her story. “Yeah, so I was pretty set on becoming a professional ballet dancer. That was my world. But… when I was about thirteen, something weird happened.”

Youngji leaned forward, intrigued. “Weird how?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with the memory, her voice becoming more animated. “I was doing a ballet recital, right? Performing in front of a big crowd like I usually do. And I was always laser-focused when I performed ballet— always. But that night… for some reason, as I was dancing, this… this urge came over me.”

Youngji’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “An urge?”

“To sing,” Luna said, almost dramatically, her eyes wide with disbelief, even as she remembered it. “In the middle of my ballet routine, I had this sudden urge to just start singing. Like, right then and there on stage. I had never felt anything like that before.”

Youngji’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?! You wanted to just burst out into song during a ballet performance?”

Luna nodded, laughing softly at the absurdity of it. “Exactly. I remember thinking, ‘What is going on with me? I’m supposed to be focused on this performance, and all I can think about is singing.’ That’s when I knew something was shifting.”

Youngji stared at her, mouth still agape before finally pointing at Luna again. “You’re insane,” she said, but with the utmost affection. “In the best way, though.”

Luna grinned, shaking her head. “I guess so. That’s when I started thinking seriously about singing and performing on stage in a different way.”

Youngji was still processing Luna’s unexpected revelation, but then her expression shifted, curiosity spiking again. “So… how did your parents react to all of this? Were they, like, cool with you just dropping ballet?”

Luna leaned back, taking a moment to think. “Well, at first, they were pretty hesitant— my mom especially since she’s a retired ballerina and she trained me. Ballet had been my life for so long, and they had supported me all the way. So when I told them I wanted to move to Korea and become an idol…”

Youngji gasped dramatically, leaning in with a hand to her chest. “Wait, you told them that straight up?! You didn’t slowly plant the idea in their head?”

“Yeah,” Luna laughed. “I was dead serious. They were pretty surprised, but once they saw how committed I was, they agreed. It wasn’t easy, though.”

Youngji nodded, still hanging on every word. “So when did you move to Korea?”

“When I was about fourteen,” Luna replied. “I stayed with my aunt for a while before I started training.”

“Fourteen?!” Youngji exclaimed. “That’s so young! Was it hard adjusting?”

Luna nodded thoughtfully. “It was really tough at first. Being away from home, mastering Korean— I knew a little Korean before moving here but it wasn’t perfect, so naturally I had to study. I had to balance school and training… it was a lot.”

Youngji’s expression softened. “But you had your members, right?”

Luna smiled warmly. “Yeah, I’m really grateful for them. They helped me adjust, especially Jeonghannie oppa.”

Youngji perked up at the mention of Jeonghan’s name. “Jeonghan-ssi? Really? Why?”

Luna nodded. “He was my first real friend when I got here. He kind of looked out for me and took care of me, made sure I wasn’t too homesick.”

Youngji’s eyes softened, a rare moment of calm on her usually excitable face. “That’s sweet.”

Luna chuckled. “Yeah, he’s pretty sweet.”

Youngji, not missing a beat, clapped her hands together and leaned in again, her usual energy returning. “Okay, but wait— did he help you learn Korean, or did he just make fun of you the whole time?”

Luna burst out laughing at the thought. “A bit of both, honestly. He definitely teased me a lot.”

“Of course he did. Teenage boys are like that.” Youngji deadpanned, shaking her head knowingly.

The two of them dissolved into laughter once again, the conversation shifting back to their usual playful banter.

Youngji, still smiling after Luna’s sweet mention of Jeonghan, leaned forward and asked, curiosity lighting up her face. “Okay, so what’s it like having thirteen guys around you all the time? It must be insane, unnie!”

She grabbed another piece of food from the table and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she waited for Luna’s answer. Luna, mirroring Youngji’s actions, took a bite herself, pausing for a second to gather her thoughts.

“It’s… honestly, it’s the best,” Luna said with a soft smile. “I feel really blessed to have them. They’re like… my family.”

Youngji’s eyebrows shot up dramatically, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thirteen brothers? That’s, like, a sitcom waiting to happen!” she exclaimed, waving her chopsticks in the air.

Luna awkwardly laughed before nodding in agreement. “You could say that. But really, I’m so grateful that I met them.”

Youngji pointed her chopsticks at Luna, her eyes wide with exaggerated amazement. “Girl, you better be grateful! You’ve got a whole squad.”

Luna chuckled, leaning back in her seat as she reminisced. “I’m an only child, so growing up, I was used to being on my own. I loved it in a lot of ways, but… it was kind of lonely sometimes.”

Youngji raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. No siblings to steal your clothes or your food or fight over toys with?”

“Exactly!” Luna replied, laughing. “But it also meant I didn’t have that built-in friend growing up. I didn’t really have that many close friends in school either. I was… a little bit shy, I guess.”

Youngji gasped dramatically. “You? Shy?”

Luna nodded, her laughter more sheepish now. “Yeah, I was. I remember wishing I could have a lot of friends, people I could really trust, you know? And now… well, now I have thirteen best friends.”

Youngji’s jaw dropped again as if she had just heard the most unbelievable thing in the world. “Thirteen best friends… That’s so unfair,” she groaned, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand. “I’m so jealous.”

Luna smiled softly, her eyes shining as she continued, “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without them. Sometimes I think about it, you know? In another universe, maybe I didn’t audition, or maybe I didn’t end up in the final lineup… but I still feel like, somehow, I would have found my way to them. Even if it was just as a fan.”

Youngji let out a dramatic wail, sliding off her chair onto the floor as if Luna’s words had physically overwhelmed her. “Noooo! Why are you so sweet?” she whined, lying face-down on the ground, her hands covering her head as if she couldn’t handle the emotions.

Luna burst out laughing, pointing at Youngji flopped on the floor like a starfish. “What are you doing?” she giggled, her laughter echoing through the room.

Youngji peeked up from the ground, her face scrunched up in mock agony. “You’re so lucky! I want thirteen best friends too! Why don’t I have that?!”

Luna, still laughing, shook her head. “Well, you can start with me. I’ll be your first best friend.”

Youngji’s eyes widened like a child who had just been told they could have unlimited candy. “Really?!” she squealed, and then suddenly, she started wiggling on the ground, sliding up and down like a worm. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted, her excitement bubbling over, making the camera crew in the room burst into laughter as well.

Luna was laughing so hard her stomach hurt, and between giggles, she pointed at Youngji. “Okay, stop! Get off the floor!” she said playfully, shaking her head in disbelief.

Youngji, still wiggling dramatically, finally let out a sigh of contentment and flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m jealous, but like, in the best way,” she declared with a dramatic wave of her hand. “You’re so lucky. Thirteen best friends… I’m still gonna say it’s unfair.”

Luna chuckled, combing her fingers through her hair. “Well, now you have me, so we’re off to a good start.”

Youngji sat up with a determined look in her eyes. “I’m starting my own best friend group. It’s gonna be epic.”

The crew continued to laugh as Youngji sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands on her hips as if she had just made the most important decision of her life.

As Youngji clambered back onto her seat, she dusted off her pants with exaggerated flair, earning a few chuckles from the crew. Settling into her chair, she reached for her drink, only for Luna to suddenly deadpan, “I must be getting tipsy… I don’t usually pour my feelings out like this.”

Her tone was so unexpectedly dry and serious that the entire room erupted in laughter. Even Youngji slapped the table, her shoulders shaking as she tried to catch her breath.

Luna blinked innocently, bringing her hand up to check her own cheeks for warmth. “Yeah, definitely getting warm…”

Youngji, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, snickered, “Oh no, if you’re getting tipsy, then I’m in serious trouble.” She leaned in closer, almost as if she was about to share a secret, “You know what this means? It’s time for a drinking game.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, watching curiously as Youngji turned towards the front of the set, where one of the crew members handed her something. Youngji grabbed it with a grin, bringing it back to the table like a prize she couldn’t wait to show off.

From behind her back, she revealed a toy: the Pop-Up Pirate game, except instead of the usual pirate figure in the barrel, it was a tiny Hello Kitty, and the entire barrel was painted pink with adorable little hearts.

Luna’s eyes lit up, a mixture of amusement and surprise flickering across her face. “That’s so cute!” she exclaimed, pointing at the Hello Kitty figure. Her attention was half on the game and half on the food still on her plate, absentmindedly eating as Youngji prepared the game.

Youngji was in her element now, the gin starting to take full effect as she chaotically began explaining the rules, her words coming out in a rapid, excited slur. “Okay, okay, here’s how it works. You stick the swords in the barrel—” she made a dramatic poking motion, “—and when Hello Kitty pops up? Boom, you gotta take a shot.”

Luna nodded slowly, processing the instructions as she chewed on her food, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Still mid-bite, she asked, “What does the winner get?”

There was a pause.

Everyone turned to look at her, including the crew, and they couldn’t hold back their laughter at how adorable she looked, her face stuffed with food, eyes wide with curiosity. “She’s so cute,” one of the staff whispered to another, and Youngji pointed at Luna, grinning like she’d found her new favorite thing.

“Bragging rights, obviously!” Youngji declared triumphantly, waving her hand as if that was the ultimate prize.

Luna simply nodded, her cheeks still full as she swallowed her bite. “Got it,” she said, her voice muffled but satisfied.

Youngji, still laughing under her breath, scooted some glasses out of the way, creating space in the middle of the table. With an overly dramatic flourish, she placed the pink barrel in the center, the little Hello Kitty bobbing slightly in its spot.

Youngji, with her trademark tipsy grin, raised her arms in the air like she was signaling a race. “Alright, let’s start!” she slurred excitedly.

Luna, still chewing quietly, gave a little “Ok” hand sign, her cheeks slightly puffed out with food, causing more chuckles from the crew.

Youngji wobbled a little in her chair before turning her attention to Luna, who was still chewing. “Since you’re the guest…” Youngji waved her hand dramatically toward the Hello Kitty barrel. “You go first!”

Luna, still in her quiet, focused state, swallowed her last bite and calmly reached over to the tiny pink sword resting on the table. She picked it up, inspecting it for a second before leaning in toward the barrel. She found an empty slot and gingerly inserted the sword into the opening.

The crew watched closely, but Hello Kitty remained safely inside.

“Ahhh, close one,” Youngji teased, her voice slurred as she pointed at Luna. “See? Beginner’s luck… but don’t worry, it won’t last.”

Luna simply smiled, staying quiet as she reached for another bite of food. It was now Youngji’s turn, and she stood up, suddenly all fired up. “Alright, alright. Watch this!” she boasted, picking up her mini sword with exaggerated importance. “I’m, like, really good at this game. Haven’t lost once.”

The crew exchanged knowing glances, stifling their laughter, but Youngji didn’t notice. She rambled on, standing over the pink barrel. “See, the key is to—” But before she could finish her sentence, she slid her sword into the slot, and with a loud pop, Hello Kitty flew out of the barrel.

The entire crew burst into laughter, clapping and pointing at Youngji’s misfortune as she stood there frozen in shock, mouth open in disbelief.

Luna, meanwhile, glanced up at Youngji with her big doe eyes, still chewing quietly, almost like she was mentally asking, What was that?

The silence was broken when the crew started chanting, “Shot! Shot! Shot!” Luna bopped her head lightly to the chant, finding the whole situation far too amusing.

Youngji snapped back to reality, letting out a playful groan as she reached for the bottle to pour herself a shot. “Alright, alright, I get it. I lost,” she mockingly declared, waving off the crowd with fake defeat as she poured the drink. “I’ll drink, I’ll drink…”

Luna, having swallowed her bite by now, deadpanned, “Wah, Youngji, you really have bad luck.”

The crew erupted into even louder laughter, and Youngji scoffed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the shade being thrown at her. “Yah! It’s not that! I told you, you’re just too lucky!”

Luna, with her perfect comedic timing, tilted her head slightly and responded, “It could be both.”

Youngji had barely raised the shot glass to her lips when Luna’s words hit, causing her to almost spit out her drink as she laughed. The sight of Youngji trying to keep it together only made the crew laugh harder.

Luna chuckled at the chaos she’d just created, clearly entertained by how easily her words had thrown Youngji off balance.

Youngji, still giggling from her last defeat, slapped her hands on the table and leaned toward Luna, her words slightly slurring. “Alright, round two. We’re doing another one!” She pointed dramatically at the barrel, her drunken determination shining through.

Luna smirked and nodded calmly, her coolness an amusing contrast to Youngji’s energetic chaos. “Sure,” she said, her voice even. “Let’s do it.”

They reset the barrel, and Youngji, with exaggerated concentration, handed Luna another pink sword. “You first,” she slurred, pretending to be gracious.

Luna inserted her sword into the barrel with ease, Hello Kitty remained still.

Youngji shot her a suspicious look, leaning in toward the toy. “This time for sure,” she muttered under her breath as she selected her own sword. She raised it above her head like it was a lightsaber. “Watch and learn,” she bragged, but her hand wobbled as she inserted the sword— nothing happened.

Luna, still calm, chose her next sword without much fuss, slipping it in.

Again, nothing.

Youngji was clearly trying to psyche herself up. “You know,” she said, slurring slightly, “I have a theory. I think this Hello Kitty likes me. That’s why she’s staying in, she doesn’t want to leave me.” She poked at the toy’s head playfully.

Luna bit back a smile. “Maybe you’re too nice. You should try being more firm with her.”

Youngji shook her head, picking up another sword. “Oh, no, no, no. It’s all about finesse.” She placed her sword into the barrel, her fingers barely grazing the surface as she bragged, “See, I—” But her sentence was cut off by the sudden pop of the toy, and Hello Kitty flew out, shocking them both.

The crew erupted in laughter again as Youngji froze in disbelief, her hands raised in surrender. “Noooo!” she cried, her voice dramatically slurred as she pointed accusingly at the barrel. “I swear this game is rigged.”

Luna calmly looked at her, then tilted her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I don’t think Hello Kitty likes you that much,” she deadpanned.

The crew lost it, laughing even harder at Luna’s cool and dry delivery. Youngji’s jaw dropped, her hands flailing toward Luna as she exclaimed, “You— Luna… you’re too much.” She poured herself a shot as the crew continued to chant, “Shot! Shot! Shot!”

Luna sat back, watching the scene unfold, her smile subtle but growing as Youngji dramatically poured her drink. “You’re too lucky!” Youngji whined, shooting Luna a side-eye.

Luna leaned in slightly. “Or maybe,” she quipped, “you’re just that unlucky.”

Youngji snorted and almost choked on her drink. “It’s both,” she said between coughs, while Luna chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained.

Youngji, wiping her eyes from the laughter, looked at Luna with a sly grin. “Alright, alright, you won fair and square, but now… since you’re on a winning streak, you have to do something special for the viewers.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her tone dripping with mischief. “How about a little dance from SEVENTEEN’s new comeback song, ‘_WORLD’? Give the people what they want!”

Luna, mid-chuckle, raised an eyebrow in amusement, “You want me to dance now? Here?”

“Yes!” Youngji pointed at her dramatically, her words slurred with excitement. “You gotta show off for the audience. It’s what the fans want! Plus, you’re on a roll.”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, “You just want to see me dance.”

Youngji waved her hands dismissively. “Noooo!” Then, leaning in, she added with a wink, “Okay, maybe a little. But you always look amazing, I swear!”

With a small laugh, Luna reached for her phone, scrolling quickly to find the song, and joked. “Fine, fine, but don’t blame me if this goes viral.”

As Luna pulled up the track, Youngji suddenly snatched an empty glass cup from the table. “Wait, wait, wait! Put your phone in here!” she exclaimed, slurring the words as she held the cup out.

Luna’s laughter bubbled up as she realized what Youngji was suggesting. “You want to make a makeshift speaker?”

“Exactly!” Youngji nodded vigorously. “Trust me, it’ll make it sound soooo much better.”

Giggling, Luna placed her phone in the glass, and the music immediately amplified, filling the room with the upbeat rhythm of ‘_WORLD.’ Youngji clapped her hands with delight. “See? I’m a genius!”

Luna shook her head in amusement, standing up from her seat. “Okay, genius. Let’s see if I can pull this off tipsy.”

With the song blasting from the cup-turned-speaker, Luna waddled over to the small open space next to the table. Her movements were playful and exaggerated as she shuffled, her hands spread slightly for balance, eliciting laughter from Youngji and the crew.

Youngji, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from the alcohol clapped loudly. “Luna! Luna!” she cheered, her slurred voice barely keeping up with the rhythm.

As the chorus hit, Luna’s body naturally found the beat. Though the space was small and her head was a bit light from the drinks, she danced with an effortless grace, keeping her movements lively but controlled. She twirled lightly, then shot smiles and winks toward the camera, her face lighting up with the same charisma she showed on stage during performances.

Youngji, her enthusiasm spilling over, hollered, “Oh! Yesss! That’s it! Kill it, girl!” Her hands flailed in the air as she danced along with the song, albeit off-key and with a few mumbled words spilling out of her mouth.

The crew joined in, cheering and clapping, egging Luna on. Luna made eye contact with one of the cameras and winked, her expression flipping into full performance mode as she hit the final moves of the snippet. Her smile never wavered, and her eyes gleamed with playful confidence as if she were on stage at a massive concert rather than in a cozy room with tipsy friends.

As the chorus ended, Luna slowed her movements, bowing with a flourish as the music continued softly in the background. The room erupted into applause, Youngji leading the charge with a loud, “Woooo!” She slumped back into her seat, still clapping like an overenthusiastic fan.

“You’re too good! Too good!” Youngji exclaimed between claps, her words slurring even more now. “I don’t know how you do it. If I were you, I’d have fallen on my face by now!”

Luna giggled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, thank you,” she said dramatically, bowing again. “But that was just me joking around.”

Youngji threw her hands up in mock disbelief. “Joking around?! Girl, that was perfection. I’m so jealous right now. I have a list now— I need thirteen best friends and your talent.”

Luna shook her head, laughing softly as she made her way back to the table. “You can have the best friends part, but the dancing? That’s all hard work.”

“Hard work and a little magic,” Youngji slurred, pouring herself another drink. She raised the glass toward Luna, still basking in the afterglow of the impromptu performance.

The crew chuckled at the toast, and Luna, a bit bashful, held up her glass in return. “I’ll take that,” she said with a grin. “Thank you, Youngji.”

They clinked glasses, Youngji still humming the melody of ‘_WORLD’ under her breath, completely content as Luna sat back down, feeling a little more lighthearted and relaxed.

Youngji, still buzzing from Luna’s impromptu performance, leaned forward with a playful grin. Her words came out slurred but full of curiosity. “Okay, okay, I gotta know,” she said, waving her hand dramatically in the air. “How do you do those killer facial expressions? Like… when you perform, you’re so good at it! Do you… like… practice in front of the mirror or something?”

Luna, who was nibbling on her pizza, chuckled softly and shook her head. “It’s not something I practice on purpose, really. I think it’s a talent I didn’t know I had, but it actually comes from ballet.”

“You do facial expressions in ballet?” Youngji repeated, eyes wide in drunken fascination. “Like… swan stuff?”

Luna nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, exactly. Facial expressions are really important in ballet. You have to convey a lot of emotion with your face because there’s no speaking. I think I just got used to emphasizing that, and when I perform with SEVENTEEN, it’s kind of second nature.”

Youngji stared at her, processing the information through her tipsy haze. “So… when you’re dancing, all those expressions… it’s like, fun for you? Like you enjoy making those faces?”

Luna nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually really fun. I think it helps relay the message of the song better. It’s one thing to dance, but if your face tells the story too, it’s more impactful.”

Youngji nodded vigorously. “Totally. Totally. So, like… what’s your favorite kind of expression? Like, do you like the cute stuff, or…?”

Luna laughed, glancing at her hands for a moment before answering. “I’m actually not that good at cute expressions,” she admitted, her voice a little shy. “I prefer the sexy, more mature, and cool looks.”

Youngji gasped in mock outrage. “Not good at cute?! Are you kidding? You’re, like, naturally cute! You literally proved that earlier when you danced!”

Luna couldn’t help but laugh again, nodding her head as she humored Youngji. “Thank you, I guess,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“No, seriously,” Youngji insisted, her eyes wide with sincerity. “I’m telling the truth! You’re cute and sexy— it’s unfair!” She slapped the table lightly, the alcohol clearly fueling her exaggerated emotions.

Luna shook her head, still chuckling. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

But Youngji wasn’t done. With a sudden burst of energy, she clapped her hands. “Show us again! Show us those cute facial expressions while you dance. Come on, just one more time!”

Luna rolled her eyes playfully, though she was clearly enjoying the teasing. “What song should I play, then?” she asked, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her playlist.

Youngji thought for a moment, her face scrunched up in concentration. Then, as if a lightbulb had gone off, she shot up from her seat, clapping her hands together. “Oh! ‘Pretty U’! ‘Pretty U’! You have to do that one!” she shouted, pointing at Luna with wild excitement.

Luna raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile creeping up on her lips. “‘Pretty U’? Really?”

“Yes!” Youngji slurred, nearly tripping over her own enthusiasm. “It’s perfect!”

With a cool nod, Luna found the song, played it, and once again placed her phone in the glass cup. As the music started, she stood up and stretched slightly, her movements slow and exaggerated as she prepared herself. “I’m really not good at cute expressions, you know,” she murmured under her breath as she walked back to the small open space.

Youngji, already swaying to the melody, slurred in disagreement. “Lies! Lies, I tell you! You perform this song so well! You’re gonna be adorable!”

Before Luna could start, Youngji held up a hand. “Wait, wait! You need a shot for more confidence!” She grabbed the bottle and poured a generous shot, handing it to Luna with a wide grin.

Luna burst out laughing, but she took the shot, downed it, and nodded at Youngji. “Alright, fine. Let’s see how this goes.”

As the bright, bubbly chorus of ‘Pretty U’ began to play, Luna shifted her demeanor. Her expression softened, a bright smile breaking across her face as she danced along to the chorus, the usual choreography mixed with over-the-top cute facial expressions. She batted her eyelashes toward the camera, made exaggerated heart signs, and even puffed her cheeks as she twirled lightly in the tiny space.

Youngji and her crew erupted into cheers and laughter, clapping wildly as Luna continued to dance. “You’re so cute!” Youngji shouted, her voice cracking from the sheer enthusiasm. “Yes, Luna, yes!”

As the chorus ended, Luna spun around and faced Youngji, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. “Happy now?”

Youngji, now standing on her seat, clapping like an excited seal, nodded furiously. “Bravo! Bravo!” she shouted, her hands slapping together in rapid succession. “You nailed it, girl! I knew it!”

Luna, unable to contain her amusement, doubled over in laughter at the sight of Youngji standing on her chair, her face red with intoxicated excitement. “This is… you’re too much,” Luna giggled, shaking her head as the crew continued to cheer her on.

Youngji, still clapping and bouncing slightly on her chair, repeated, “Bravo!” in a slurred voice, clearly having the time of her life as Luna continued to laugh at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

Youngji, still high from the energy of Luna’s previous performance, wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. “Okay, okay, but now,” she slurred, eyes gleaming with excitement, “you gotta do your smirking, flirty face. You know the one I’m talking about!” She attempted a seductive smirk herself but ended up giggling at her own drunken attempt.

Luna was still laughing from Youngji’s dramatic cheering, but she played along. “Am I here to perform for you?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I play ‘HOT’ then? I feel like that’s the right vibe.”

Youngji’s reaction was immediate. She threw her hands up in the air, nearly tipping over on her chair. “Yes! ‘HOT’! Play it! That’s perfect!” she slurred with an exaggerated nod, her eyes wide with excitement.

With a cool, playful grin, Luna nodded and began scrolling through her playlist again, quickly finding the song. She placed her phone back into the makeshift glass speaker, the familiar intro of their song ‘HOT’ filling the room.

As the beat thumped through the small space, Luna shuffled back to the tiny open area, preparing herself. She glanced at Youngji, who was practically bouncing on top of her seat with anticipation. The chorus was nearing, and Luna’s demeanor shifted. Her playful expression turned more intense, eyes narrowing slightly as a slow, confident smirk spread across her lips.

Then, the chorus hit, and Luna moved effortlessly into the choreography of ‘HOT’, her body swaying with purpose. This time, instead of the playful cuteness, she exuded pure confidence, every movement sharp and deliberate. Her eyes locked with the camera, and there it was— that signature smirk that had fans going wild during SEVENTEEN’s performances. It was flirtatious and cool as if she knew exactly the effect she was having on anyone watching.

Youngji’s cheers grew louder. “Yes, Luna! That’s it! Work it! Girl crush, girl crush!” she yelled, practically shaking the chair as she stood on it, barely keeping her balance.

The crew joined in, clapping along and hyping Luna up as she danced, her expression never faltering from that seductive smirk.

Luna gave it her all, despite the limited space, the teasing expressions adding to the sultry energy of the song. Her hands moved in sync with the choreography, her movements fluid, and her eyes held that playful glint throughout the performance. It was as if she was commanding the entire room with just a look.

As the chorus came to a close, Luna slowed her movements, landing in a final pose with a flick of her hair and a wink at the camera, her smirk still intact. She let the last beat of the chorus fade out before straightening up, her cool expression breaking into a wide grin.

The room exploded in applause. Youngji, completely losing it, began clapping like a seal again, still standing on her chair, swaying dangerously. “Girl crush! You’re my girl crush!” she screamed, her voice cracking but filled with affection. “You’re so cool! How are you so cool? I’m in love!”

Luna, laughing at Youngji’s loud declaration, waved her hands in mock modesty. “Alright, alright, calm down!” she teased, unable to stop grinning at Youngji’s over-the-top reaction.

Youngji wasn’t having it though. She threw her hands up again, this time almost losing her balance. “No, seriously! You’re my girl crush! That was so hot!”

Luna could only laugh harder, holding her stomach as the crew joined in on the fun, clapping and cheering in agreement with Youngji. It was clear that the mood in the room was infectious, the playful energy carrying them through the rest of the night.

Luna slumped back into her seat, dramatically wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Okay, enough dancing,” she mock-panted, shooting Youngji a playful look. “I swear, one more move and I might black out.”

Youngji was still laughing and clapping like an overexcited fan, her voice slurring as she said, “Nooo, I can’t help it! I have a crush on you!” She repeated it, slurring the words, “I have a crush on Luna!” with the goofiest grin.

Luna giggled at her new friend’s antics before deadpanning, “Youngji… are you okay?” She raised an eyebrow, watching Youngji as she struggled to pour them another shot without spilling the soju. “You need to stop drinking,” Luna teased but held out her glass anyway, accepting the next round.

They clinked their glasses together with a loud clank, and both of them downed the shot. Youngji, eyes now heavy but still bright with mischief, turned to her and slurred, “Are you still okay, my crush?”

Luna tilted her head and took the shot with no reaction, her face entirely calm. “I’m almost there,” she said smoothly. “Tipsy, but still here.” She couldn’t help but laugh afterward, leaning forward slightly, “So, ‘my crush,’ huh? Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Youngji nodded furiously, her words tumbling out incoherently. “Yes, yes! My crush! You’re so cool, like— so cool.” Her eyes sparkled with admiration, the alcohol amplifying every bit of sincerity in her voice.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head at the adorable mess in front of her. “Okay, okay, your crush,” she played along, her tone light and teasing.

But Youngji wasn’t done. She wiped at her eyes dramatically, looking as serious as she could muster under her drunken haze. “I like people with duality, you know? People who can be both cute and sexy. Do you— do you have a celebrity crush?” She leaned in, her interest suddenly piqued.

Luna shook her head, still smiling. “Not really into real people like that. Honestly,” she answered, “most of my crushes have been on fictional characters from movies, shows, or books.” She laughed softly, remembering her own obsessions.

Youngji’s eyes widened, and then, as if she had just recalled something groundbreaking, she clapped her hands together loudly, nearly knocking her shot glass over. “Wait! I heard you have the biggest crush on Loki from Marvel!”

Luna couldn’t help but burst into laughter, clapping her hands in sync with Youngji’s excitement. She leaned back into her seat, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh my god, yes,” she admitted through giggles. “Loki is… well, who doesn’t have a crush on him?”

Youngji, clearly invested now, leaned forward, eyes wide with curiosity. “Wait, wait, hold on,” she bombarded Luna, her words slightly slurred but enthusiastic. “What do you like about him? He’s handsome, sure, but he’s the bad guy, right? Is that your type?” Her voice rose playfully, her brows wiggling mischievously as if she’d uncovered something scandalous.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head at the accusation, her smile widening as the conversation shifted into familiar territory. “I mean I don’t have a specific type. Yeah, he’s handsome, and yeah, he’s the bad guy— kind of.” She began slowly, her voice steady but carrying more energy than it had earlier, an unmistakable sign that the alcohol was loosening her up more than she realized. “But that’s not why I like him.”

She straightened in her seat, her hands animated now as she started explaining, the words pouring out faster as she became more passionate about her topic. “It’s not just about him being a bad guy, you know? It’s his personality— he has this… this charm,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “He’s got this dry sense of humor that makes you laugh even when you don’t expect it. And the way he’s confident, but not in an obnoxious way. It’s more subtle like he knows he’s smart and capable, but he doesn’t need to prove it all the time.”

Youngji, who had been hanging onto every word, nodded in agreement, though clearly a little lost in the rapid-fire speech. “Hmm, that makes sense… but he still likes to cause trouble, right? Mischief? Isn’t that a big part of it?”

Luna grinned, leaning in a little as if sharing a secret. “Exactly! He’s mischievous,” she repeated with emphasis, her eyes glinting with something more. “But it’s not just for the sake of it— there’s always something deeper, something clever behind it. He’s always ten steps ahead, and that’s what makes him so interesting.” She paused for a beat, her mind briefly wandering, before she added with a softer, almost playful smile, “I guess I’ve always been drawn to that kind of personality… intelligent and calculated guys are very attractive to me.”

As Luna spoke, she unconsciously revealed more than she intended. Her words, though directed at Loki, seemed to resonate with something— or rather, someone— else entirely.

The qualities she was describing weren’t just about a fictional character; they mirrored those of her boyfriend, Jeonghan, with startling accuracy. He, too, had that sly, playful nature, that effortless confidence that both infuriated and charmed everyone around him.

Youngji, perhaps too tipsy to pick up on the underlying hints, nodded along, her chin resting on her hand as she gazed at Luna with fascination. “You’re really passionate about this,” she slurred, blinking slowly. “I get it, though. Mischievous guys… they keep things exciting, huh?”

Luna laughed softly, her cheeks slightly flushed from both the alcohol and the direction of the conversation. “Yeah, they do,” she admitted, a knowing glint in her eye. “It’s fun. You never quite know what’s coming, but it’s always worth it in the end.”

Youngji slapped her hand on the table suddenly, making Luna jump a little. “I knew it!” she declared, pointing at Luna dramatically. “You do have a type! Mischievous, funny, smart— Loki-type!” She was laughing now, clearly enjoying her discovery, even though she wasn’t aware of just how on-the-nose her comment really was.

Luna, unable to hold back her laughter, nodded in playful surrender. “Okay, maybe I do,” she said, her voice light, though there was a warmth behind it that hinted at something deeper— something personal.

Youngji, still clearly invested in Luna’s rant about Loki, tilted her head in thought, a playful glint in her eye. “Wait, so… do you like guys with long hair too? You know, since Loki’s rocking that,” she asked, her voice teasing as her words slurred slightly. She wiggled her fingers dramatically in the air, mimicking Loki’s flowing locks as if she’d stumbled onto another part of Luna’s type.

Luna, catching on to where Youngji was going with this, chuckled and shook her head, but there was a playful gleam in her eyes. “I don’t really have a preference when it comes to looks,” she replied thoughtfully, her words slower as if she was choosing them carefully, though the slight smile on her lips suggested otherwise. “Long hair, short hair— it doesn’t really matter to me.”

There was a brief pause as Luna took another bite of her food, but then she added, “But… if he can pull off both, then that’s even better.” She let out a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow as if she were sharing a secret. “Though, I might be biased toward long hair. Just a little.”

Youngji’s eyes widened dramatically, and she shot up from her seat, clapping loudly as if she had just uncovered the greatest revelation. “Aha! I knew it!” she slurred, pointing at Luna as if she had caught her red-handed. “You say you don’t have a type, but you do! Mischievous, smart guys with long hair!” Her voice was loud and excited, the alcohol clearly making her voice louder than she intended.

Luna threw herself back in her chair, laughing uncontrollably at Youngji’s dramatic outburst. “What are you talking about?” she managed to say between fits of laughter, waving her hands as if to defend herself. “I never said that!”

But Youngji wasn’t having it.

“Ya! Luna you can’t fool me,” Youngji slurred then she turned toward the camera, still pointing at Luna with a wobbly finger. “You heard it here first, everyone!” she announced, her words slurring even more. “Luna likes mischievous, intelligent guys who can rock both short and long hair… but especially long!”

Luna, still cackling in the background, waved her hands in surrender. “I didn’t say that!” she protested, though her laughter betrayed her.

It was obvious to both of them and probably everyone watching, that she wasn’t exactly disagreeing with the assessment.

Youngji, proud of her deduction, grinned ear to ear and sat back down, clearly satisfied with herself. “I knew it,” she repeated, nodding sagely as if she had just solved a mystery.

Just as Youngji settled back, still grinning from her triumphant deduction, Luna’s phone dinged from its place in the glass, the sound echoing in the small room. The noise caught their attention immediately, both sets of eyes snapping toward the device as if fate itself had decided to weigh in on the conversation.

Luna’s phone screen lit up, casting a soft glow through the glass. Only she and Youngji could see the notification, and as Luna lifted her phone slightly to check, she froze for a second.

The screen displayed a single message— from Jeonghan. And there, beneath his name, was the very same Jeonghan’s face grinning lazily back at them, clear as day on her wallpaper.

Youngji’s tipsy eyes widened at the sight, and though her speech was still slurred from the alcohol, her voice carried a teasing lilt as she blurted, “See? I knew it.”

Luna burst into laughter, throwing herself against Youngji’s shoulder as if to beg her to stop from being too obvious, her whole body shaking with mirth. But the playful exchange only fueled Youngji more. She raised her hands in mock innocence, trying to cover for Luna in the most transparent way possible.

“I knew it!” Youngji repeated, but then quickly amended herself, glancing mischievously around the room. “I mean, come on, one of your members was bound to check in on you at some point, right?” She added a little wink, though her teasing tone couldn’t have been more blatant.

Luna, still caught in a fit of giggles, sat up a bit, trying to compose herself. She could only shake her head as she looked down at the message, her cheeks flushed both from laughter and the alcohol.

The moment was filled with shared glances and inside jokes, one of those times when words weren’t necessary to convey understanding. Even though Luna and Jeonghan’s relationship was a secret from the public, Youngji’s playful cover was enough to keep things lighthearted, avoiding too much attention while still teasing Luna about the not-so-hidden truth.

Youngji, still half-smirking, decided to play innocent as she leaned in closer, feigning curiosity. “So… who texted you?” she asked, dragging out the question as if she hadn’t seen the name flash across the screen just moments before.

Luna was still recovering from her laughing fit, her entire body shaking as she clutched her stomach with one hand, the other wiping away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Every time she tried to speak, another wave of giggles overtook her, leaving her gasping for air. The crew watched on with amusement, chuckling softly as they witnessed Luna’s complete surrender to the hilarity of the situation.

Youngji, however, put on her best serious face, her brow furrowing in exaggerated concern. “Luna are you okay?” she asked, her tone mockingly stern. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening as she studied Luna’s uncontrollable laughter. “You won’t stop laughing… I think you need to go home.”

The crew erupted into laughter at Youngji’s deadpan delivery, but Luna, still giggling, managed to shake her head, clutching her tummy as if trying to rein herself in. “I don’t want to go home!” she protested, taking a deep breath to calm down.

After a brief pause, she finally managed to answer Youngji’s earlier question, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes. “It’s Jeonghannie oppa,” she said, her voice still a little breathless from laughing so hard.

Youngji raised an eyebrow, her playful expression returning. “He knows you’re here filming, right?” she teased, still pretending to be oblivious. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Do you want to share with the class what he said, or not?”

Luna, now calmer, picked up her phone from the glass. She opened the message and quickly scanned it before reading aloud, her tone light and casual. “He said, ‘Call me when you’re done and on the way here.’” She locked her phone again and set it aside, still smiling.

Youngji, slurring slightly from the alcohol, leaned in with mock curiosity. “Where are you going after this?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as if trying to unravel some great mystery.

Luna chuckled at her exaggerated tone. “I have practice after this,” she explained, still amused by Youngji’s playful interrogation. The casual exchange, despite its lightheartedness, held the warmth of friendship, each teasing comment laced with genuine affection.

Youngji suddenly perked up, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “I have an idea!” she exclaimed, a little louder than she intended, which made Luna jump slightly in her seat. “Text Jeonghan-ssi. Let’s prank him.”

Luna, clearly enjoying where this was headed, giggled in anticipation, her fingers already moving toward her phone. “What should I say?” she asked, the excitement in her voice palpable as she unlocked her phone. The atmosphere felt lighter now, the earlier tension of the drinks and deeper conversation melting into a more playful vibe.

“Tell him,” Youngji leaned closer as if they were conspiring, “that you can’t do this anymore.”

Luna’s eyes widened before she broke into another fit of laughter, covering her mouth as if trying to stifle it. “He’s not going to fall for that,” she said, though her hands were already typing out the exact message Youngji had suggested:

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

As she pressed send, Luna glanced at Youngji and said with a smirk, “Hannie oppa is too sharp for this. He won’t be easily fooled, h–”

But her playful assurance was cut short when, mid-sentence, the familiar ringtone of her phone echoed in the room, cutting through the conversation like a hot knife.

The room went still for a moment.

The crew gasped, some even giggling at the sudden shift, while Youngji, now fully invested in the chaos she’d started, shot up in her seat. “Oh my god! Girl, answer the phone!” she gasped, her eyes wild with amusement, leaning even closer toward Luna.

Luna blinked at her phone in disbelief, the name ‘my angel boy🪽’ lighting up her screen, the ringtone growing louder in the otherwise silent space. She looked at Youngji with wide eyes, her voice now a whisper, “What should I say?”

There was a tiny hint of panic behind her words, her excitement starting to mix with nervous energy.

Youngji, half-slurring, was all for the drama. “Tell him…” she paused for effect, her words dripping with amusement, “…tell him you couldn’t do this anymore because I was asking you weird questions!”

Luna hesitated, biting her lip in mild panic. “Youngji… you’re really… crazy,” she muttered, but before she could back out, she quickly hit the answer button, her voice coming out steadier than she felt.

Luna placed her phone on speaker, her fingers trembling slightly from the mixture of excitement and nerves. Before she could even get a word out, Jeonghan’s deep, yet soft voice filled the room, echoing through the small space.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone gentle but with a hint of concern.

Luna, knowing Jeonghan so well after all these years, immediately understood the shift.

His voice was usually so bright and sing-song, always answering the phone with an upbeat tone that instantly lifted her spirits. But now, his seriousness threw her off, and she winced, shooting Youngji and the crew a pained look.

Youngji, though, was undeterred, grinning like the devil on her shoulder and silently urging her to keep going.

“O-oppa…” Luna started, trying her best to sound sad, though her voice trembled with the urge to burst into laughter.

Jeonghan hummed on the other end of the line, a soft noise that nudged her to continue.

“I just finished the interview,” she added, her tone still shaky.

Another hum from Jeonghan, quiet and calm.

“She was asking weird questions,” Luna said, attempting a sad sigh but immediately covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

There was a beat of silence from Jeonghan’s side.

The kind of silence that made everyone in the room freeze for a moment.

Luna could feel the intensity of it, like he was trying to process her words while keeping his composure.

Then, finally, his voice came through again, still soft but now with an underlying sharpness that made both Luna and Youngji cringe.

“What questions?” he asked, his voice careful, as though he was trying not to jump to conclusions too quickly, but the edge was unmistakable.

Youngji, who had been grinning from ear to ear, suddenly stood up from her seat, backing herself playfully against the wall as if trying to escape Jeonghan’s indirect scolding.

Luna, on the other hand, was struggling, tears forming in her eyes as she stretched her arm out, holding the phone away from her mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back her laughter.

“Jiyeon-ah,” Jeonghan’s voice came again, firmer this time. “What questions?”

Luna smiled through the fear knowing how rare Jeonghan called her by her real name, but she stopped herself just before answering, her acting skills being tested more than ever. She sighed dramatically, leaning into the role. “Just…”

Before she could even finish, Jeonghan’s voice cut her off, his words making Luna cringe hard.

“Do you want me to tell Seungcheol?” he asked, the mention of their leader’s name hitting like a warning shot.

Luna’s entire body tensed at that.

She knew Seungcheol, would absolutely flip if he thought Luna was upset about something serious.

Youngji, still up against the wall, shook her head frantically at Luna, playfully waving goodbye at the camera as if she was terrified of the situation she’d created. Luna gestured for her to come back, laughing even as she tried to keep up the charade.

“No!” Luna quickly blurted out, cringing at the thought of Seungcheol getting involved. “No, I’m on the way back anyway— I’ll talk to Coupsie.”

There was another long pause.

Luna could practically hear Jeonghan processing her words.

Then, finally, his voice echoed through the phone again, calmer, but still holding that careful tone.

“You’re on the way back?” he asked.

“Yes, I just finished,” Luna answered, keeping her voice steady, though she could feel the tension building.

Another pause.

“You finished the interview and you’re on your way back?” Jeonghan repeated as if summarizing everything she’d said.

Luna blinked, her smile twitching. “Yes, why?”

There was a longer silence this time.

Everyone in the room was holding their breath, waiting for his next words.

Then, in a tone that was now playfully amused, Jeonghan finally spoke again.

“Out of all the people you could prank, you decided to prank me?”

Luna burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking as the entire room seemed to release a collective gasp.

Youngji was staring at her in disbelief, her mouth slightly open as she looked around at the crew. “How did he find out?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Luna giggled, covering her face with her hands as she tried to apologize. “Youngji made me do it!”

From the phone, Jeonghan simply went, “Ah.” His voice, now fully relaxed, was teasingly amused.

Youngji, still shocked, stuttered shyly, “J-Jeonghan-ssi, hello.”

“Oh, hello, Youngji-ssi,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, his voice as polite and soft as ever.

Luna, still laughing, finally asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How did you know I was joking?”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, then explained, “I didn’t know at first. But when you said you finished the interview, something felt off.” He paused, then continued, “You’re the type of person who would just end the interview yourself if you were uncomfortable or disrespected by the questions. You wouldn’t wait to finish.”

Luna smiled, understanding exactly what he meant.

She had always been one to speak her mind and walk away from anything she wasn’t comfortable with.

“And,” Jeonghan added, his voice even more teasing now, “I could hear you smiling while you spoke.”

Luna shook her head, chuckling again. “I told you he wouldn’t fall for it,” she said, turning to Youngji, who just sat there, still in disbelief at how quickly Jeonghan had caught on.

Youngji slumped back into her seat, still stunned, as Luna’s laughter echoed in the room.

Luna, her laughter finally dying down, looked at her phone and said, “Well, since you’re here, oppa, you should say hi to everyone!” She grinned, turning her phone slightly toward the camera, giving Jeonghan a moment to address the viewers.

On cue, Jeonghan’s deep but soothing voice echoed through the room again, still as smooth and soft as ever. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted, his tone polite but with a touch of playful charm. “I hope you’re all doing well. Please continue to take care of Luna while she’s with you today.”

The staff, who had been quietly watching the whole thing unfold, burst into a chorus of hellos and some gave friendly waves toward the phone as if Jeonghan could see them.

Before he could say anything more, Luna, clearly not wanting to give him another second of control over the conversation, interrupted him with a sudden outburst. “Han! It’s so much fun here with Youngji!” she began, her voice rising with excitement, “You should be here too!”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle on the other end, but before he could respond, Youngji leaned into the frame with a wide grin. “He really should come next time! We’ll do a special episode— Luna and Jeonghan together!”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeonghan replied, his voice smooth but with a hint of amusement.

Luna straightened in her seat, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “No, really! You’d love it! Youngji keeps making me laugh, and we’ve been talking about everything— drinks, games, she even made me dance!” She started listing everything off with the same excitement, her voice taking on a childlike tone as she gushed. “And the crew here is so nice! We’ve been playing games, and Youngji asked me so many fun questions— she’s so funny!”

Jeonghan hummed softly in response, the sound was warm and full of affection. “Mm, that sounds like a lot of fun,” he cooed in his signature lazy drawl. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, Nana-ya.”

Luna, encouraged by his response, continued to ramble on, her words spilling out faster now. “And—and you should’ve seen when we started— Youngji made me drink gin and she gave me a lot of food, and we even—” She paused, catching herself, then giggled, clearly realizing she was talking a mile a minute.

Youngji, who had been watching with amusement, leaned toward the camera and whispered to the crew, “This is the most Luna’s spoken today.” The crew chuckled along, nodding in agreement.

Jeonghan, ever the doting boyfriend, was patient and gentle, humming softly every now and then to let her know he was listening. “Ah, really?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, affectionate tone he used with her. “Sounds like you’re having a blast, hmm?”

Luna, her face glowing with excitement, nodded eagerly, even though he couldn’t see her. “I am! I wish you were here! It’s so much fun! And Youngji said next time you can come, and maybe we’ll—”

Jeonghan let out a small, amused laugh, cutting her off gently, “You drank a lot, huh?”

Luna immediately pouted, shaking her head even though Jeonghan couldn’t see her expression. “No, I didn’t! I didn’t drink that much! Only a little…”

Jeonghan chuckled again, this time more indulgently, his tone almost teasing. “Mm, alright. You just spoke a thousand words in one breath, Nana-ya. I think you definitely drank more than a little.”

Luna gasped, mock offended, before laughing again, unable to keep up the act. Youngji and the crew, meanwhile, were in stitches, watching the entire exchange unfold like something out of a rom-com.

Youngji, still giggling, waved toward the camera again. “Jeonghan-ssi, I promise we didn’t force her to drink that much!”

“Oh, I believe you,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, his voice still light with humor. “But Jiyeonie’s not exactly the best at hiding when she’s had a few, is she?”

Luna pouted once more, slumping in her seat. “Oppa!” she whined softly, her tone almost playful as she drew out the syllables.

Jeonghan hummed again, his voice turning soft and doting once more. “It’s okay, I’m just teasing you,” he cooed, that familiar sing-song lilt back in his voice. “I’m glad you’re having fun, really.”

Luna smiled, her heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. No matter how often he teased her, she knew it was always out of love.

Youngji, catching her soft expression, leaned toward the camera with a knowing grin. “See? This is why I said you should prank him. Look how sweet he is.”

Luna nodded, biting her lip to keep from giggling again. She knew Jeonghan wouldn’t stay mad for long, especially when he could tell she was having a good time.

Luna smiled as the laughter in the room finally died down, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her phone. “Okay, Hannie, I’m gonna go now,” she said softly, her voice still carrying traces of the playful energy from moments before.

Jeonghan hummed on the other end, his tone gentle and affectionate. “Mm, okay. Take care, See you later, Jiyeonie.”

Luna’s heart swelled at the warmth in his voice. “You too, oppa. Practice well, okay?”

“I will. I’ll see you soon,” he replied, his voice a low murmur, almost like a promise.

With a soft smile, Luna nodded to herself. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Nana-ya.”

She ended the call, placing the phone gently on the table, but before she could even relax into her seat, her phone lit up again.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen— a text from Jeonghan: ‘Drink water and eat more.’

Luna chuckled, already feeling the warmth of his concern, but before she could even react, Youngji jumped up from her seat, immediately fussing over her. “Aigoo, see! You better listen to him!” she slurred, her movements exaggerated as she grabbed the nearby pitcher of water and began pouring it into Luna’s glass. “You need to eat more too!” she added, piling more food onto Luna’s plate, her eyes wide as if the message from Jeonghan had ignited some maternal instinct in her.

Luna giggled, watching Youngji in amusement as she responded to Jeonghan’s message with a quick, ‘Yes, I’ll eat. Don’t worry 🤍’

Then, she obediently picked up her fork and took a bite of the food, earning a satisfied nod from Youngji, who had taken on the role of Luna’s makeshift caretaker.

Youngji, a bit tipsy and swaying slightly, leaned closer, her words slightly slurred but full of sincerity. “You’re so lucky… He’s really worried about you, huh?”

Luna smiled as she chewed, swallowing before replying. “Well… it’s not just him. The members, especially Jeonghannie and Coupsie oppa, always make sure I’m okay when we’re drinking— especially today.”

Youngji raised a curious eyebrow at that, her tipsy brain trying to keep up with Luna’s words. “Why? What happened?”

Luna let out a soft laugh, realizing Youngji might not remember the story. “It’s because they don’t want another Hoshi incident.”

Youngji blinked, clearly confused. “Hoshi incident?”

Luna nodded, already knowing the moment she mentioned it, the memory would click. “You know, when Hoshi-oppa was here, he got really drunk, right? Well, that same day, we had practice. So, Hoshi showed up to the practice room completely wasted but was still trying to practice like it was nothing.”

Youngji’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and she let out a surprised laugh. “No way!”

Luna grinned, nodding. “Yep. And Jeonghannie oppa filmed the whole thing! There’s a video of drunk Hoshi oppa still trying to do the choreo.” Luna tilted her head and asked, “Did you see the video?”

Youngji’s eyes widened in sudden realization, and she nodded vigorously. “Ohhh! I remember now! I saw that video! Poor guy — I felt so bad but he looked cool, he can dance better drunk than I do sober!”

Luna laughed at Youngji’s dramatic retelling, but before she could say anything else, Youngji waved her hand in front of her, acting like a strict mother. “See, this is why you should go home now,” she said, her voice half-serious, half-teasing, as if she was trying to play both roles of the concerned friend and the playful show host.

Luna couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, the warmth of the moment filling her chest. The combination of Youngji’s tipsy fussing and Jeonghan’s constant concern made her feel wrapped in a bubble of affection— a place where she was cared for in every little way.

With a playful sigh, Luna shook her head. “I don’t want to leave. I’ll eat, I promise.”

“Go home, Luna,” Youngji groaned dramatically, her voice dripping with exaggerated exhaustion, making Luna giggle. The crew burst into laughter at the ongoing playful banter between the two of them, while Luna took another bite of food, ignoring the command.

Luna, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, pouted cutely. “But I don’t want to go!” she whined, her voice slurred slightly as she waved her chopsticks in the air. “I’m having so much fun!”

Youngji, not one to back down, leaned forward and pointed at Luna with mock sternness. “You still have dance practice, Jiyeon-ah! Your members will get mad at me if I let you drink more.”

Luna’s pout deepened as she huffed, rolling her eyes. “They won’t get mad. I’ll just… be a little late,” she slurred, her words drawing out lazily as she reached for more food.

Youngji smirked, shaking her head. “A little late? Girl, do you want me to get in trouble with SEVENTEEN?” She pointed a finger at herself before adding with a mock-terrified look, “That’s two out of fourteen members showing up drunk at their dance practice because of me. S.Coups-ssi might hunt me down.”

The crew burst into laughter again, and Luna, in her slightly tipsy state, let out a high-pitched giggle. “Coupsie oppa would never!” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Youngji teased, her face pulling into a playful grimace as she imitated Seungcheol’s authoritative tone. “I can already hear him— ‘Youngji-ssi, what did you do to Luna?!’”

Luna burst out laughing, swaying slightly as she covered her face with her hands. “Stop, stop!” she giggled, cheeks turning even redder. “He’s not like that… Well, not all the time.”

Youngji shook her head knowingly. “Yeah, right. He’s the leader for a reason. Do you really think he’s going to let this slide?” She crossed her arms, giving Luna a playful yet stern look.

Luna slumped in her seat, her pout returning. “I don’t want to go back,” she mumbled under her breath, acting like a child avoiding bedtime. “It’s too much fun here.”

Youngji let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as if defeated. “Aigoo, this girl,” she muttered. “Your members are going to come for me, I just know it.”

Luna giggled softly after finishing her last bite, wiping her lips with the napkin. She looked at Youngji with a small smile, almost sheepishly. “Alright, alright, I’ll go,” she said with a laugh, realizing that, if she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late for practice for sure.

One of the crew members approached Luna with a grin, holding out a marker and a blank piece of paper. “Luna, can you sign this for us? It’s for the wall— we have all of Youngji’s guests sign it.”

Luna beamed, taking the marker and paper eagerly. “Of course!” She placed the paper on the table, leaning over as she started writing her message. She spoke out loud as she scrawled her words in neat, bold handwriting. “Youngji, you’re the best… from your best friend Luna.”

Youngji, watching over her shoulder, cackled at the message. “Your best friend, huh? I’ve officially been promoted. I’ll take it!”

Luna chuckled, finishing her signature with a small flourish. She handed the paper to Youngji, who took it with a grin. “Aww, look at that!” Youngji teased, waving the paper for the camera. “Everyone, look! Luna thinks I’m the best.”

Luna laughed again, watching as Youngji stood up from her seat, making her way to the wall of signatures. She carefully stuck Luna’s paper up alongside the others, smoothing it out to make sure it was centered. “There you go, you’re officially a part of the wall now,” Youngji said, taking a step back to admire the wall.

“We should take a picture to commemorate this,” Youngji added, turning toward Luna with a playful grin.

Luna nodded, feeling a bit lighter from the drinks but still excited. “Yes, let’s do it.”

One of the staff members quickly grabbed a phone, and Luna and Youngji struck a pose, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Youngji held up a peace sign, while Luna tilted her head to rest against Youngji’s with a bright, tipsy smile. The camera clicked, capturing the moment, and the staff clapped in appreciation of the scene.

As they pulled away from the photo, Luna turned to Youngji with a soft smile. “I had so much fun today,” she said sincerely, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

Youngji grinned, her tone just as warm. “Me too. We should do this again sometime. Maybe next time, I’ll drink more and you can take care of me.”

Luna laughed, nodding. “Deal! I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, they shared a tight hug, Youngji squeezing Luna with a fond chuckle. Luna pulled back slightly, her expression playful as she planted a quick kiss on Youngji’s cheek. “Thank you for having me,” Luna said, bowing her head in gratitude.

Youngji deadpanned, touching her cheek dramatically. “You better go before I steal you from your members and keep you to myself,” she joked, making the staff and crew burst out laughing.

Luna laughed along, turning towards the door, waving and bowing at the crew. “Thank you, everyone! Bye-bye!” she called out, flashing a smile to the camera before making her way out.

The door closed behind her softly, leaving the room filled with the lingering energy of her presence.

In the last moments, the staff and Youngji exchanged looks, a warm laughter spreading around the room. “That was amazing,” Youngji mused, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

The camera panned out, capturing the wall of signatures as it faded to black, Luna’s note standing proudly among the others, a lasting memory of her fun and lively presence.

comments…

@/lunababybae • 2 years ago ╰ their chemistry is perfect! I would love to see more of these two together 😂

@/rinarieee • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeon came in so quiet and composed and then left a loud, giggling mess.

@/gyusshadow • 2 years ago ╰ I gotta hand it to Luna she can drink 🤭

@/moonbae17 • 2 years ago ╰ Youngji calling Luna her girl crush at 19:30 is an actual mood.

@/saythename • 2 years ago ╰ Luna’s deadpan humor is so fucking attractive for some reason 🫠

@/mad-lineeee • 2 years ago ╰ she’s a princess fr fr 💖

@/mrsbaebae • 2 years ago ╰ Luna is so sweet to gift Youngji that set and from Paris too 🤌💋

@/alyy1625 • 2 years ago ╰ Only Bae Jiyeon would not like the taste of beer but would down gin like that with a straight face

@/jeongnanana • 2 years ago ╰ Luna explaining that she just has resting bitch face and that she’s not actually scary is so funny to me cause same 🤣

@/gyuuuuudaily• 2 years ago. ╰ GOD I JUST LOVE HER BRITISH ACCENT SO MUCH 😫 ITS LIKE BUTTER.

@/sallluuuteee17 • 2 years ago ╰ 15:16 “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without them. Sometimes I think about it, you know? In another universe, maybe I didn’t audition, or maybe I didn’t end up in the final lineup… but I still feel like, somehow, I would have found my way to them. Even if it was just as a fan.” Brb I’ll just dry my eyes 🥹

@/lulu-nana17• 2 years ago ╰ 16:30 Luna’s face when Youngji lost the game at the first try 😂

@/gyugyugyugyu_ • 2 years ago ╰ Luna saying she mostly has crushes on fictional characters is such a mood cause same

@/sebongrighthere • 2 years ago ╰ THANK YOU LEE YOUNGJI FOR ASKING LUNA TO DANCE HOT!! IT WAS INDEED HOT 🥵

@/user836837373863 • 2 years ago ╰ “But… if he can pull off both, then that’s even better.” WHO ARE YOU FOOLING, MISS THING?! WE KNOW DAMN WELL WHO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!!

@/missbitchhhh • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeon geeking out about Loki is adorable!!

@/shadowmyshadow• 2 years ago ╰ 20:55 is she even still talking about Loki at this point? Because I swear it’s sound like she’s talking about someone else entirely… iykyk 😝

@/angel7266 • 2 years ago ╰ “He’s got this dry sense of humor that makes you laugh even when you don’t expect it. And the way he’s confident, but not in an obnoxious way. It’s more subtle, like he knows he’s smart and capable, but he doesn’t need to prove it all the time.” ONLY ONE PERSON POPPED IN MY HEAD WHEN SHE SAID THIS AND HIS NAME RHYMES WITH BOON BEONGHAN 😊

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 2 years ago ╰ TELL ME I AM INSANE!? SHE WAS LITERALLY DESCRIBING JEONGHAN THE ENTIRE TIME SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT LOKI!? THE CHARM, THE WIT, THE HUMOR, THE BRAIN, THE MISCHIEVOUSNESS, THE LONG FUCKING HAIR?! EXCUSE ME?!

@/user763816262 • 2 years ago ╰ Jeonghan’s voice during that call 😫

@/ashonashonash_ • 2 years ago ╰ 25:55 Jiyeon got scared when Jeonghan sounded serious for a second.

@/jijijiyeonienie • 2 years ago ╰ Hannie clocking Luna’s prank so fast. He knows her from the inside out fr.

@/kpopfan17 • 2 years ago ╰ who would have thought i would get to see Luna gushing about Yoon Jeonghan *ahem* I mean Loki for a solid minute and a half 😉

@/belleeeee_ • 2 years ago ╰ Youngji knows something we don’t cause look at her reaction when Jeonghan texted 🤭

@/diamondlifeu • 1 year ago ╰ YOON JEONGHAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🥺

@/gyuminggooo • 1 year ago ╰ Hannie called Luna real quick… so quick that I had a fucking whiplash.

@/dailynanana • 1 year ago ╰ She texted him “I can’t do this anymore” I bet Jeonghan was scared shitless.

@/chuuuuchhuu17 • 1 year ago ╰ Jeonghan is so patient with Luna, the way he listened and waited for her to finish her rant was so endearing to see 🥹

@/lalunanova • 1 year ago ╰ “what are you talking about?” Daddy?! 🥵

@/17-carat • 3 weeks ago ╰ 26:22 Youngji backing up the second she heard Jeonghan’s serious voice and at the mention of Cheol 🤣

@/myg145 • 2 weeks ago ╰ Drunk dancing Hoshi really got these guys stressing for Luna’s turn in this show 😂

@/bjy_lover • 1 week ago ╰ I need a man like Yoon Jeonghan. He is the standard! Like, that entire conversation was so cute 🥺💖

[My Alcohol Diary 2.0 — The Aftermath]

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Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl

[hyunnielix]

things i wish you said. | h.h

Series Masterlist

'Sorry, that I pulled the "It's not you, it's me" One day, I'll make sure you get a real apology'

— hyunjin x (f) reader

— word count: 3.4k (she's a long one sorry + unedited)

— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance (I know who would've thought. eventual smut (not in this chapter sorry).

— warning's: bestie!minho, angst. Minho is pissed!, Hyunjin being a flirt, sexual references, fluff, reminiscing on the past! SO MUCH ANGST, reader is gifted a painting!

→ playlist on spotify

The room hummed softly with your playlist, melodic symphonies and sultry beats. The whole day you'd felt on edge, anxiety eating you alive.

The dim glow of your bedside lamp cast a warm light over your room. Standing before your desk mirror, you slipped into a black and white dress. Tiny diamanté's sparkled along the bodice, catching the light like scattered stars every time you moved. While the cinched waist accentuated your silhouette.

You sat on the ivory chair in front of the mirror, reaching for the makeup scattered along the desk. You dusted highlighter along your cheekbones and couldn’t help but think of him—his absence lingered like a ghost in the room, uninvited and impossible to ignore. But tonight wasn’t for grief or longing. This was your stage, your chance to shine in a way which let him see exactly what he’d left behind.

As you swept another brush over your cheeks, adding just the right amount of blush, you paused, staring at your reflection. This wasn’t just a night out. With each stroke of mascara, you steeled yourself, straightening your posture. This was your statement. Your chance to show him — and yourself — how far you’d come. A final touch of lipstick sealed it: a bold red, fierce and unapologetic. You weren’t the person he left behind, and tonight, you intended to prove it.

You reached for your die-cube handbag and slung it over your shoulder. Giving yourself a once over, you smiled. With a final breath, you turned away from the mirror and exited your room, down the hallway.

You stopped in your tracks, drawn to the painting hanging in the hall—the one Hyunjin had gifted you on one of your birthdays. It depicted the silhouette of a couple standing close, an umbrella shielding them from an oncoming storm. Their hands clasped in an intimate grip, a quiet tenderness captured in oil. The muted blues and earthy browns swirled together in a way that felt alive, reminiscent of so many moments you’d shared with him. Once, you loved getting lost in its strokes, marveling at the way it seemed to breathe. Now, the sight of it made your chest tighten, the ache a stark reminder of what you lost.

You wondered, not for the first time, why you couldn’t bring yourself to hide the painting. It hung there like a ghost, its presence both soothing and tormenting. Every glance at it stirred something deep inside you—a mix of longing and resentment you couldn’t quite untangle. Maybe it was the memory of how happy you’d been when he gave it to you, or perhaps it was the quiet defiance of keeping it in plain sight.

"I think it’s about time to put that painting to rest, huh?" The suddenness of Minho's voice made you flinch, his tone cutting through the quiet hum of the apartment.

You turned awkwardly on your heel, clutching your bag tight to your chest. The dim overhead light cast warm shadows across the small kitchen, the faint scent of dish soap hanging in the air. "It’s probably for the best," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Minho stood at the sink, his sleeves rolled up as his hands moved in the soapy water. The clinking of plates stopped, and his brows furrowed slightly as he turned to glance at you. "Where are you going all dolled up, pretty?"

You shifted uncomfortably, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you approached the bench. "I’m going to La Luxe for dinner."

His lips quirked into a teasing smirk as he returned to scrubbing the dishes. "You finally found someone to take you again? Don’t tell me it’s Felix."

His playful jab caught you off guard, and you rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh, though the weight of the conversation pressed on your chest. “It’s nothing like that, Min,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress. “Just a catch-up with an old friend.”

“Would I happen to know this old friend?” His eyes narrowed, the edge of his tone sharper than usual.

“What’s with you and the questions?” You sighed, avoiding his gaze. You hated how easily he could read you.

He tilted his head, crossing his arms like a disappointed parent. “You’re getting defensive. So, I definitely know them.”

Your gaze drifted to the painting on the wall—that painting. The one you couldn’t bring yourself to take down.

“Y/N,” Minho's voice softened, barely above a whisper.

“He’s back,” you murmured, turning to face him. “He came back.” The fabric of your dress suddenly felt too restricting, like it was suffocating you. You caught the flicker of surprise on his face—and was that disappointment? Felix was right. Of course he'd be upset.

“And tonight, you’re going to tell him you don’t accept his half-assed apology, right?” Minho's tone carried a warning edge.

A silence swallowed the room. Your answer lingered there, unspoken but painfully clear.

“He can’t just waltz back into your life after three years and expect you to grovel at his feet. It’s pathetic. He should know better.”

“Min,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady, “you know I love you, but I need to handle this on my own. Please, let me make my own decisions. Okay?”

"If you get hurt again, I won't be the one picking up the pieces," Minho huffed, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He left the rest of the dishes undone, wiping his hands on a towel before disappearing into his room.

The tension in the apartment lingered. The last thing you needed was him being mad at you. Although, Minho's frustration was nothing compared to the storm brewing in your chest. With or without his blessing, you had to face your tangled mess of emotions.

A buzz interrupted your train of thought, you slipped your phone out of your handbag and read the notification.

Hyune: I know I said we would meet there but I'm outside your apartment. You don't mind if I give you a ride right? If it's too weird I can just go.

Y/N: It's okay. I'll be out in a minute.

The car ride was filled with small talk and a comfortable familiarity that you hadn’t anticipated, especially considering how cold he had been the last time you saw him. An ease lingered in the air, the kind of casual chatter which made it feel like no time had passed at all. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, the same dry humor which used to irritate you, now felt oddly comforting. The tension you braced yourself for never materialized; instead, it felt like slipping into a well-worn pair of shoes—familiar, yet strange and new.

You'd almost forgotten how the interior of the restaurant, La Luxe Charm, looked. Bathed in warm, intimate glows of low golden lighting.

Hyunjin's hand ghosted your waist, his fingertips close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin but never quite making contact. His frame stood beside yours, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne— Mint and raspberry, reached your nose, refreshing and sweet.

As you stepped inside, the clicking of your heels was silenced, the plush carpet beneath muffling the sound of your steps. The walls were lined with a deep crimson velvet, embossed with intricate golden patterns which shimmered subtly under the soft light of chandeliers which hung overhead. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the faint aroma of gourmet dishes being prepared in the kitchen.

Dark wood panels created a sense of secrecy, while gilded frames adorned the walls, each holding carefully chosen artwork that spoke of refined taste. Your gaze drew to one of the paintings, the style eerily familiar.

Instinctually, you reached for Hyunjin's hand, intertwining your fingers. His skin was warm against yours, the subtle callouses on his fingertips a reminder of the hours he spent painting. You turned your head slightly, leaning closer until your lips hovered near his ear, your voice dropping to a whisper, "It seems like they have taste too. Look at the work they're featuring."

You glanced back at him, catching the way his gaze lingered on your joined hands. His expression softened, almost as if he were entranced by how naturally your fingers fit together.

"Hyune?" The name slipped out before you could stop it. His eyes flicked to yours, surprised. "Oh. Sorry." You quickly dropped his hand, the warmth lingering on your fingertips. A blush crept up your cheeks as you glanced away, suddenly self-conscious. "Force of habit," you mumbled, the words barely audible.

"Hmm? yeah it's flattering to say the least."

You forced your gaze ahead of you. Tables were draped in crisp white linens, set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses. But the booths were your favourite part, deep and inviting, with high backs, offering an air of privacy and comfort as patrons conversed in hushed tones. Everything about the space—every detail from the dark, rich color palette to the gleaming accents— you adored. It was the sort of place where time seemed to slow, and every moment felt like something to savor.

You were led to your table by a cute waitress, her smile genuine as she gestured toward the velvet-upholstered chair. Hyunjin stepped in, excusing the waitress and pulled out the chair for you, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

The waitress dipped, placing the menus and glasses on the table. The soft swish of her movements almost blended into the elegant surroundings and her gaze lingered for just a moment longer before she turned to leave.

"I can't believe we used to come here every Wednesday. We'd argue so much over what pasta to try and then you'd steal my desert." You sat, placing your handbag on the floor by your foot. You ghosted your hands over the menu, avoiding his intense stare.

Hyunjin tilted his head. "You say that like you didn’t always end up taking half of mine!"

"I liked seeing you get all worked up over it. You always took everything so seriously." You giggled, airy and light. "This restaurant was only my favourite because you introduced it to me you know."

He paused and you glanced up, drawn to his silence. His silky onyx hair framed his face in a way which seemed effortlessly deliberate. His lips, naturally full and slightly pouted, parted as if he were about to speak but thought better of it. Your eyes roamed down his body, the tailored suit he wore was jet black, its sharp lapels accentuating his shoulders. The crisp white shirt beneath, unbuttoned at the top, hinting at a casual defiance of formality. Definitely on purpose.

Your eyes traced the sharp lines of his jaw before settling on the small slit in his left eyebrow. Subtle yet striking—a detail that added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. It was new.

He noticed your stare, and for a fleeting moment, his lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Well. You were always the carefree one, always able to shrug things off. I admired that. Took one day at a time."

"And you," You pointed your finger at him. "Were always trying to fix everything. Always had a plan. I never understood how you did it. I couldn’t keep up." That's why I was left behind... your smile faded. "You always knew what the next step was."

Hyunjin shook his head and stared at the menu. "I didn't. I just pretended like I knew what I was doing."

"And now look at you! Mr. Artist." You rested your chin on interlaced hands.

"Hah." He sighed, "Yeah."

You frowned at his tone—hollow and restrained. It didn’t match the warmth he once carried, the easy laughter that used to light up every room he stepped into. "So what was it really like? Paris!"

"It was great at the start. The classes were fun, I made some really good friends. I think you'd love Jeongin." The corner of his lips tugged upward. "I owned my own studio and was invited to prestigious events. All the flashy bullshit."

"It sounds like fun."

"Yeah until I grew bored. I couldn't place my finger on it. My work became monotonous. Lacking colour and emotion. My recent pieces I scrapped. I seem to have lost my inspiration." he said, his voice low as his eyes locked with yours, steady and unwavering. "So, I guess that's the reason I'm here."

Your brows furrowed. He couldn’t be implying what you thought he was, could he? The air between you thickened with the question hanging in the space, a subtle tension building that made your heart skip. You watched him closely, searching his face for any signs of a joke, any hint that he wasn’t being serious. But there was nothing. Only the quiet intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words sinking in.

"You came back to find new inspiration?" you asked, your voice edged with disbelief.

"I think I realized my very flaw," Hyunjin began, his voice faltering slightly, "My work has always been inspired by the people around me and—" He paused, visibly struggling to find the words. His gaze dropped to the table for a moment, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the motion would give him the courage to continue. His usual confidence, the one you used to admire so much, seemed to be slipping away, replaced by something more vulnerable.

He met your eyes again, his expression softer, almost hesitant. "I’ve spent so much time trying to capture things that weren’t mine to hold. People. Moments. You. All of my art has one common denominator," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He didn’t say it outright, but you didn’t need him to. The unspoken truth laid bare between you, like a canvas waiting for its final stroke.

Your stomach tightened as his gaze lingered on yours, searching for a reaction. You didn’t know what to say, your thoughts tangled between disbelief, anger, and something dangerously close to longing. The realization crept over you slowly, each piece falling into place like a puzzle you weren’t sure you wanted to solve.

"Me," You whispered lowly, your chin trembled and you let out a sharp exhale.

"I didn’t expect to feel… like this, when we sat down again. I thought it’d just be some casual catch-up." Hyunjin let out an airy, nervous laugh. "I didn't plan a monologue or anything so I'm flying by the edge of my seat here."

"Yeah me neither." You hesitated, "I don’t think I ever really stopped thinking about you."

"I get it," he said softly, voice laced with regret. "I tried to bury a lot of things too. Things we never talked about. But now, seeing you again… I realize there's so much I still wish I had said."

"Like what?" you asked, the words escaping before you could stop them.

He hesitated, fingers fidgeting as he stared down at them. "I'm sorry," he finally murmured, his voice cracking slightly. "For leaving the way I did. I never gave you a proper explanation. Telling Felix and Minho, expecting that to be enough? I couldn't even stomach telling you to your face." A bitter laugh escaped him as he glanced away. "How much more of a coward could I have been?"

"Hyune. You don't have to apologise. You were following your dream and I just didn't fit into that space anymore. I understood, I just think... I think I wanted you to fight harder to stay. It's silly."

He reached over the table, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The contact sent a soft shiver through you. His hands were as gentle as you remembered them—warm, soft, and full of the careful tenderness. "It’s not silly," he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity.

You looked up at him, surprised by the firmness in his words, but before you could speak, he cleared his throat. "I—I, uh, brought a present with me," he said, his eyes flickering with something like nervousness.

Surprise painted your features as he pulled out the present, a canvas wrapped in simple brown paper, the size of a painting. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at it. He hesitated for a moment before handing it to you. "I thought... you might like this."

You took the canvas carefully, fingers brushing over the smooth texture of the paper, the edges slightly creased from the wrapping. The soft rustling of paper echoed in your ears as you peeled it away, revealing the canvas piece by piece. Hyunjin watched you intently, his hands resting in his lap.

Your breath caught. It was a painting of you. Your body, bare and exposed, captured in a way that felt so intimate it almost hurt to look at. The brushstrokes were so delicate and shadows seemed to dance around your form, casting a softness that made the image almost too real. The lines of your body were captured with such detail, it was as though he memorized every inch of your form—your bare skin glowing, the faint curve of your waist, the gentle arch of your back.

A rush of heat flooded your face. You didn't know how to feel. Shocked, confused? maybe even angry, but none of it seemed to come together. You expected many things, but this? This wasn’t what you imagined. The intimacy of the piece unsettled you—too much of your body laid bare, too much of your soul exposed.

Your voice was barely a whisper, as if saying the words out loud made the weight of them even heavier. "My scar is there..." Your eyes fixed on the painting, not quite seeing it anymore, but instead tracing the path of the old wound that marred your skin.

The image of your body, so exposed and raw, was both beautiful and jarring. Hyunjin captured your form so delicately, but in that moment, all you could see was the mark, the jagged line, etched into your flesh from years ago. It had been a part of you for so long, hidden beneath layers of clothing and carefully constructed walls, something you rarely allowed anyone to see, let alone be immortalized in oil paints.

Your chest tightened. The scar became a focal point. It was a reminder of pain, of loss, of something you'd never fully healed from. The scar wasn’t just physical; it carried years of emotional weight, an experience you never spoke about. Not even with him.

You felt a coldness settle over you. What had he seen when he painted you like this? Did he see only your beauty, your vulnerability, your essence? Or did he see the scar, too? Did he know what it represented? Did he understand how much it hurt to see it laid bare, stripped of the protection you'd spent years building?

You wanted to tell him how you felt, to explain the confusion, the grief that welled up inside you. But the words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong in the same space as the picture before you. How could you explain his painting awakened something you weren't ready to face, something that had been buried for far too long?

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but you fought them, swallowing the lump in your throat. The warmth of the room seemed to fade, replaced by a suffocating tension. "Thank you, Hyune."

He blinked, caught off guard. "You don't like it?" His voice quietened.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, struggling to keep your composure. "I'm sorry. I think this was a mistake. I don’t think I can do this." You stood abruptly. The weight of the words felt like a confession.

"Y/N!" The desperation in his voice hit you like a punch and he gripped your wrist, his touch almost bruising.

Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you locked gazes with him. In that silent exchange, a thousand unspoken words passed between you. The worry carved into his expression only made it harder to hold yourself together.

His hand, once firm and grounding, loosened its grip, hesitating as if unsure whether to comfort you or give you space. That small gesture, the faltering of his touch spoke volumes.

You left and didn't look back.

[premiumbitch]

THINGS TO MANIFEST -JENNIFER CHECK THEMED PACK ! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hi luvs! I decided I'd make this jennifer check themed pack for people who want to manifest themselves to be a completely different person, someone they will feel confident to be! also for the amazing shifters who can script this about themselves! enjoy :)

⋆⛧┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈⛧⋆

BEAUTY ♡ //

Your face is delicate yet haunting, like an old Hollywood starlet from a tragic love story.

Your eyes are dreamy and melancholic, holding secrets of past lives and lost loves.

Your lips are full, soft, and slightly parted, as if you’re always whispering poetry.

Your skin is porcelain-like, glowing under the golden hour sun, kissed by nostalgia.

Your hair is effortlessly romantic, cascading in soft waves or tied with a satin ribbon.

Your eyelashes are long and fluttery, giving you a permanently wistful gaze.

Your cheekbones are high and sculpted, as if you belong in a vintage film.

Your nails are always polished in soft reds, nudes, or classic French tips, the definition of elegance.

Your perfume is intoxicating, a mix of vanilla, roses, and cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

Your eyeliner is slightly smudged, like you’ve been crying over poetry in a dimly lit room.

Your beauty is vintage, ethereal, and tragic, like a love song from the '50s.

Your lips look like they’ve been kissed under neon motel lights, soft and sinful.

Your freckles, if you have them, look like they belong in a faded Polaroid picture.

Your aesthetic is cinematic—you don’t just look beautiful, you look like a story waiting to be told.

You are the embodiment of tragic beauty—soft, vulnerable, yet untouchable.

AURA ♡ //

Your aura is nostalgic, like an old love letter found in an attic.

You carry the energy of a woman who has loved deeply and suffered beautifully.

People can’t tell if you’re heartbroken or if you just love the sadness of it all.

You are the muse for artists, poets, and lost souls who don’t even know your name.

Your energy feels like a late-night drive with the windows down, a cigarette burning, and music playing softly in the background.

You are soft but not weak, romantic but not naive.

You look like you belong in a black-and-white film, staring longingly out of a train window.

People become addicted to your sadness, wanting to fix you but never quite being able to.

Your presence feels like a faded love song, echoing in an empty ballroom.

You move through life like you’re part of a tragic novel, always chasing a love that never stays.

You seem like you belong to another era, a ghost of the golden age of romance.

You exist in the space between dreams and reality, never quite fully in one or the other.

Your energy is intoxicating, like the taste of cherry cola and the smell of an old leather jacket.

You romanticize everything, even pain, turning heartbreak into art.

You are the kind of woman people write songs about but never truly understand.

SMARTS ♡ //

You speak in poetry, turning even simple thoughts into something beautiful.

You know literature, art, and music like they’re old friends.

You can analyze a love song like it’s a sacred text.

You understand people deeply but let them misunderstand you.

You see the world in metaphors, turning pain into poetry and sadness into symphonies.

You are highly self-aware, knowing your own patterns but unable to change them.

You can quote Nabokov, Plath, and Fitzgerald effortlessly, as if their words are woven into your soul.

You are emotionally intelligent, sensing when people are lying even before they realize it themselves.

You can fall in love with an idea more than a person, addicted to the fantasy rather than the reality.

You play the role people want you to play, but deep down, you’re always in control.

You are an enigma—people think they know you, but they only know the version of you that you let them see.

You are both wise and naive, knowing better yet still diving headfirst into beautiful disasters.

You understand the power of mystery, revealing just enough to keep people coming back.

You are both deeply introspective and wildly imaginative, creating entire worlds inside your mind.

You could be a philosopher, a poet, or a rockstar in another life.

PERSONALITY ♡ //

You love love, even when it destroys you.

You believe in fate, soulmates, and the kind of love that exists in old Hollywood films.

You are the type to send love letters instead of texts, even if they never get sent.

You are drawn to men who are no good for you, the ones with sad eyes and even sadder stories.

You are soft-spoken but full of passion, your voice like a lullaby with a dark undertone.

You love the aesthetic of danger but only from a safe distance.

You are both fragile and untouchable, like a rose made of glass.

You feel things deeply, as if every emotion is a storm passing through you.

You believe that sadness is beautiful, that pain is poetic.

You are fiercely loyal, but only to those who deserve it.

You love the thrill of the unknown, romanticizing what you can’t have.

You are a hopeless romantic but also a realist, knowing that love can be both magic and tragedy.

You carry your heartbreaks like trophies, reminders of the love you were brave enough to feel.

You have an old soul, drawn to jazz, blues, and stories from decades before you were born.

You are the dream girl, the tragic heroine, the beautiful disaster that people can’t help but worship.

hope you guys enjoyed! requests are appreciated! lmk if you want anything! <3

[moosha-mushroom]

Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.

TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.

Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.

Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.

The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.

Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.

Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.

Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.

The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.

Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.

Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.

I am losing my mind.

[iwriteiguessandiloveit]

I'll Sleep when i'm Dead

Toon!Beetlejuice x reader

i'll sleep when i'm Dead

Chamomile tea by your bedside. Noise machine you brought up from the basement. A small night light casting shadows around the room. All used in some form or another, and still your eyes were glued open; Thinking of both everything and nothing at the same time. The tick-tock of the clock rang out in your otherwise silent room. Speaking of the clock, what time was it anyway? You turned your head to read the digital clock on your dresser- and made eye contact with two large, grey rimmed eyes. 

You screamed- ‘AUGH!’

After the adrenaline rush had subsided, you knew who the strange eyes belonged to. Beetlejuice, your boyfriend. Who also happens to be a ghost.

He rolled through the air, shaking with fits of laughter. ‘Oh, you should've seen your face! Priceless!’ You rolled your eyes and shunted the covers over to the edge of the bed and stepped over to your dresser. Goosebumps prickled along your arms in the chilly air. ‘BJ! What are you doing here? It’s kinda creepy, spying on me like that.’ 

The mirror’s border creaked as he rested his full weight on it. ‘Aw, c’mon! Can’t I just wanna see my favorite breather?’ 

‘That still doesn't make it any less creepy.’ You murmured. Well, creepy or not, you could take advantage of the situation. Anything’s better than being alone with your thoughts at 3 Am. ‘But since we’re both up…’ With a triple recitation of his moniker; As he was shoved by an invisible force out of the mirror and into reality; He crash landed upside down on the floor. Stars circled around his head and his eyes whirled in their sockets. ‘Y-ya really gotta warn me before ya do that…’ You helped him up, but your giggles were interrupted with a large yawn.

 Beej raised an eyebrow. ‘You look tired, babes. Why aren't-cha in bed?’ Upon remembering your predicament, your shoulders sagged. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. ‘Can’t. Not for lack of trying, I just have so much on my mind right now, like I have a science test tomorrow and notes for history and I have to wake up 30 minutes earlier because I have to pick up my prescription before they send it back and i’ve been trying to go to bed for 3 and a half hours now-’ You were interrupted by Beetlejuice, who shoved a grimy finger to your lips. ‘Ahp-bup-bup, no need to freak out. I’m gonna help you!’ Your eyebrows quirked skeptically, but before, you could express your doubt in that idea he exclaimed-

‘I got an idea! Lemme serenade you to sleep!’ He thrust his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out a full size accordion, complete with handles and a black and white paint job. He started playing a few painfully off-key base notes. ‘Any requests?’ Remembering the last time he tried to play something for you and all the apology notes you had to write to the neighbors, you pushed the accordion down a few inches. 

‘No-thanks, sweet of you but I don’t think it’ll help.’ 

‘You never want to hear my songs.’ He grumbled. But his face lightened up after a moment and exclaimed, ‘I know what’ll help-’ 

With a snap of his fingers, your world exploded into neon stripes. Your room spun away to be replaced by a 80s-esque dance studio, the backdrop a mix of zigzags and bright colors, fuzzing your vision up. In the middle of the room, BJ was dressed in neon green arm and leg warmers with neon purple bodysuit; And hands on his hips in a sassy gesture.

Well this is a sight you’d take to the neitherworld. 

‘Alright babes! Put your hands up and stretch up high! Let's tire those muscles out!’ His feet moved rapidly, spinning like a ballerina and stomping to an invisible beat. Bewildered, you tried to recreate whatever in the world he’s doing but you kept tripping, eventually landing flat on your ass. ‘Beej, take me HOME!’ You cried. He turned to you, huffing and puffing with the effort of his improv-ed dancing. ‘Aw, just when I was having fun…’ He lamented. But as you requested, he snapped again and your room reappeared before you. You steadied yourself on the headboard of the bed. You tugged off and flung the neon pink headband you only just realized you had on when your gaze shifted to Beetlejuice.

He looked a little hurt. Eyes darting away from you, fiddling with his tie. You hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, you were just so tired that you didn't have the sense of humor for his shenanigans in you. He was genuinely trying to help, after all. 

‘BJ…’ You started. ‘Yeah?’ He perked up.

You plopped on the edge of your bed, sagging as the fatigue returned at your lack of motion. ‘I’m sorry I was so harsh. I just… Honestly, the best thing you can do right now is just cuddle me. Silently. Please?’ 

He nodded vigorously, and suddenly his mouth was a zipper and fastened itself closed  with a ‘swiipp’. ‘’Mhmph-hmm!’ He mumbled; His voice, obviously, obstructed by the zipper. 

No matter the state you were in, this goofy ghost always managed to make you laugh.

‘Heh, c’mere.’ You stretched your arms out toward him and he readily dove into your embrace.

The soft chill of his arms was a welcome feeling. You pulled up the covers to both your shoulders, while his hand came up to stroke your hair. Like the clingy specter he is, he wrapped his arms and legs around your waist and clutched you like a parasite. It restricted your breathing a bit, but one look at his adorable face snuggling into your neck had you melting. You didn't have the heart to make him move. 

(1 hour later)

BJ

You're so beautiful. Well, you’re always beautiful, but especially now. It’s been TORTURE just sittin’ here not talking or anything! But I guess if you can sleep it's worth it… now just let me-oops, didn't mean to bump your nose there, Sorry, Y/N. Pleaseee stay asleep-there we go. *smack* free access for forehead kisses. Love ya, babes. Nighty-night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

can you tell I had fun with this one?

RS has the privilege of calling the 80s dance studio setting her own idea~

Credit where it's due: L and RS, who beta read and gave me suggestions (and a lot of laughs)

@accidentalnh2cl, this is for you! I hope you like it!

And off we go! I'll get started on the next one tomorrow.

luv y'all!

-Rea ❤

[starchants]

THE WAYWARD HOME

beetlejuice verse x female!reader ; the deetz house.

word count — 555.

themes + warnings ; established relationship with lydia deetz, beej is here and is bestie coded, also reader can feel energies and see ghosts when she channels into her ability!

author’s note — i love lydia sm and i wanted to make a really small ramble about the beautiful house that the deetz found and took from barbara and adam after their passing plus how beej would react to lydia finding someone <3!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

the moment that lydia had brought her home, she had felt a safe comforting presence in that seemingly interesting house that everyone was curious about. y/n had felt at home, alongside her girlfriend.

there was something, some form of energy that resided here, one that made her happy and the poor girl couldn’t figure out what that was. maybe it was the deranged artwork that was put outside in the front yard.

maybe it was the nice dark wooden tones mixed with the pretty wallpaper upon the walls that gave it a similar sense to a nice little funky shaped cottage. maybe it was the small yet sensible kitchen that had been redone and made more modern by lydia’s step mother who hadn’t fully destroyed the previous style of the home during a second remodel.

it seemed like a lot of memories were made in that kitchen even with the remodel and it made the young woman smile softly to herself as she stood there while lydia awkwardly explained the situation of changing up the kitchen. the energy that sounded throughout the kitchen made y/n perk up even more as she felt someone staring at her from the entryway of the kitchen. she knew that lydia and herself were the only ones in the house and perhaps it was one of the rumored ghosts that the town had spread around.

her (e/c) eyes scanned around the room until it lead her to the doorway where she saw a man dressed in a black and white striped suit grinning wildly at her and she knew it meant trouble. “oh dude, the green really doesn’t go with the outfit.” y/n remarked before she could stop herself and her girlfriend immediately stopped rambling about some appliance in the kitchen before turning to face the (h/c) haired woman.

“lydia, babes, how dare you break my heart like this?” the ghoulish man remarked as he placed two hands over his heart to make a jointed fist and collapsed onto the ground upon the sight of seeing his beloved lydia with someone else. “you are quite literally the most dramatic thing i’ve seen.” y/n quipped with a grin as she saw the green haired man look up at her with quirked brows and a smirk upon his face.

“you can see him?!” the raven haired woman nearly screeched as she looked between her ghostly bestfriend and her lover. “surprise i’ve seen ghosts and others since i was a child.” the other woman replied as she chuckled and helped the ghost, who was begging her with a look similar to puppy eyes, off of the ground and he was quick to pull her down with him. “oh babes can we keep her? please, oh please, oh pretty please.”

beetlejuice had glanced over at lydia whom was grinning and trying to stop herself from laughing about the situation. “hmmm i guess she’s alright to keep around.” lydia teased as her girlfriend gasped at the absurdly of her teasing words which was nearly drowned out by beetlejuice’s loud cackling as he grabbed lydia’s hand and pulled her down with them, leaving the three of them intertwined in a weird embrace upon the marble flooring, which was the sight that had greeted barbara and adam, a few moments later.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

do not translate/repost/give my works to ai

please consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !!

You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.