#living should mean no do overs ; verse

[toubledrouble]

You know what we should bring back?

Older christianity. I mean the anti government, anti military, community based christianity. The one that cared the most about peace, equality, mercy, kindness, and radical love. The one with shared property. The one that didn't conform to society but instead existed mostly outside of it. The one where noone considered one sin worse than another because in the end, we are all sinners trying our best to be better.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

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“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched. 

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike. 

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone. 

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him. 

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it. 

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place. 

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him. 

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid  disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more. 

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh. 

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead. 

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers. 

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful. 

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth. 

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus. 

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it. 

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs. 

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were. 

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too. 

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more. 

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more. 

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,”  he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge. 

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine. 

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled. 

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer. 

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you. 

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through. 

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again. 

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest. 

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

[liketolaugh-writes]

Sick Day Once A Year

I might be too much in love with the Death Echoes trope. So, have a whole bunch of Bruce taking care of Danny. It's basically a sickfic with extra hurt/comfort.

It takes place in the same verse as More Like Home but probably won't happen until after the plot of that fic is done. At this point, Danny has been living with Bruce for a little under a year.

-----

At noon, Alfred called Bruce to ask him to come home early. Bruce turned around and walked out of the board meeting without even looking at anyone, but did throw a distracted 'family emergency!' over his shoulder. He might have carefully cultivated his airheaded Brucie persona, but even then people knew that he took his kids seriously.

He ignored the board member that grumbled 'enough fucking family to have an emergency every day if he wants.'

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce asked, once he was clear of the board room and in the elevator. Calm. Calm. No running. Brucie doesn't run.

"Master Danny declined to specify the nature of his sick day this morning," Alfred said, in a dry tone that didn't do a bit to hide the worry underneath it. "Apparently the anniversary of one's death is rather... physically harrowing for a ghost. He's admitted that he'd like to have you here."

But of course he hadn't asked for it, because that would require bringing up what he was. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Ten minutes at most."

"I'll let him know. Come prepared to spend several hours in his room, if not the rest of the day. He indicated that he may be well enough to eat by eight or nine o'clock, but even then..."

Meaning he expected to be debilitated until then. "Understood. Should I bring anything?"

"He's not aware of anything that will help, but some topical analgesic might be of use. I will see if I can find anything else to try."

"He's in pain?" Bruce's brow furrowed. Alfred hesitated before answering, which made Bruce's heart sink.

"He is... physically reliving his death, he says, and will be for most of the day. He is in quite a bit of pain."

"These kids will be the death of me," Bruce muttered. Danny hadn't even hinted at anything like this when he asked for the day off. Bruce made a mental note to keep him off patrol the next night as well. The elevator stopped, and he took off at as quick a walk as he dared. "I'll be there in ten."

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred hung up, hopefully to return to Danny.

On the way, he collected a few items that seemed promising: IcyHot cream in the strongest available formula, both heat and cold packs, a variety of compression bandages, and some muscle relaxers from the Batcave infirmary.

Bruce knocked on Danny's door. Cool air drifting out of it indicated either Danny or Alfred had turned the thermostat down lower than usual. Fortunately, Bruce had grabbed a jacket just in case.

"'M in," Danny mumbled, barely loud enough for Bruce to make out.

He pushed the door open and was unsurprised to see Alfred seated beside a miserable-looking Danny. He was surprised to see Danny in ghost form, as it wasn't a form he typically spent recreational time in, particularly when he was unwell. Perhaps it made the ordeal easier. Danny was curled up in his bed, on top of the covers, with his jumpsuit removed and a set of soft pajamas in its place. Alfred was running one hand through Danny's soft white hair, slow and comforting, while his other held one of Danny's.

"Hey, chum," Bruce called out quietly, drawing Danny's attention to him. "Heard you're hurting today." Danny hummed unhappily instead of denying it, which was concerning. "Think you'll be able to eat anything for lunch? Applesauce, bone broth, yogurt? Maybe with ectoplasm?" Danny didn't seem to have any intention of leaving ghost form.

Danny started to shake his head, but stopped to consider when Bruce brought up the last point. "Applesauce and ectoplasm," he mumbled. "Maybe. Nothing after like, two, though."

Alfred gave Bruce a warm smile and gently extracted himself from Danny. "I will see to it," he promised. "Do you need anything else, Master Danny? Master Bruce?"

Danny shook his head mutely, and Bruce said, "I'll text you an update once we've tried these." He hefted the bag he was holding. "If you could bring me lunch when you can, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course," Alfred promised. "I hope you feel better, Master Danny."

"Thanks, Alfie."

Alfred left, shutting the door gently behind him, and Bruce took his place, setting the bag at his feet for now. Danny didn't stir from his leaden sprawl, not even to lift his head.

"You didn't have to leave work, y'know," Danny mumbled, half into the pillow. "I'll be okay."

He didn't apologize, Bruce noted. That was progress. "I know I didn't have to. But someone should be here with you."

"I don't-" Danny choked, his hands squeezing into fists as his whole body shuddered and jerked as if tased. Danny panted through the spasm, his whole body rigid, and when it was over he slumped down and let out a weak moan of pain, making no attempt to continue arguing. It took Bruce a moment to remember to breathe, reminding himself forcefully that this was no attack.

"I brought you some stuff," Bruce said, softer. Danny grunted in discontent. Bruce leaned down and opened the bag anyway. "IcyHot lidocaine cream and muscle relaxers." Danny shook his head without looking. Bruce wasn't surprised. He hadn't realized Danny was in ghost form. "Both heat and cold packs." Danny hummed in mild interest but didn't open his eyes. "And compression bandages."

Danny blinked his eyes open to consider them. His usually neon eyes looked dull. "Worth a try," he muttered after a moment.

Good. Something was better than nothing. "Do you need help sitting up?"

Danny's mouth quirked in a dry smile. "Not yet."

He pushed himself up with a grunt, and shrugged off his pajama shirt with intangibility rather than lift his arms. Bruce had to suppress an immediate and visceral reaction to the glowing lines that coiled up his left arm, which he had only gotten glimpses of before; a telltale Lichtenberg permanently etched onto Danny's ghost form. In contrast to the rest of him, which had dimmed to about the light of a glowstick, the Lichtenburg mark was painfully bright.

"Where do you want these?" Bruce asked, lifting one of the rolls of elastic bandaging. Danny cocked his head and considered it. Then he gestured silently, indicating his left arm from his wrist to his shoulder, and twisted to give Bruce access. With the ease of long practice, Bruce started to wrap it. "Anything I should expect?"

Danny watched him unroll the bandages for a minute, around and around, getting halfway up Danny's forearm before he answered. "The pain comes in waves. They'll keep getting longer, more severe, and closer together until around four, and then they'll die down completely about two hours after that." He paused, watching Bruce loosen the bandages around his elbow before moving on. "It won't ever get as bad as actually dying, but it's still pretty bad. And I'll be really emotional for a lot of it, especially when it hits peak."

"When are you not." The words were out before Bruce could think twice about them. Fortunately, Danny laughed, tired but genuine.

"You've got me there. How many rolls of bandages do you have?"

"I brought three. Alfred can obtain more if necessary." Pretty bad, Danny said. Bruce had no desire to experience pain that Danny described as 'pretty bad.' His tolerance was high even for their family.

Danny shook his head. "That should be okay. Can you do my back too?"

"Yes, but I'll need to be closer." Danny scooted to make room, and Bruce shifted to sit next to him, then tapped a spot low on Danny's spine. "Starting here?" Danny nodded. "Alright. Is there anything else I should know?"

Thankfully, Danny seemed to genuinely think about it, but eventually he shook his head. "I've only had two of these," he reminded Bruce. "There's more stuff I don't know, probably."

Ah yes, a frustrating constant. The elusive nature of comprehensive information about ghosts. Even Constantine had large gaps in his knowledge, which Bruce would grudgingly admit was rare for the man. This? This was definitely not in the introductory handbook. Was Bruce now obligated to share information in return? Hn.

Danny squinted at him. "What did Constantine do now?" he asked.

"Constantine."

"You have a very distinct 'thinking about Constantine' face."

"Hn."

Danny smiled briefly, then yelped, curling up like a bug and accidentally dislodging Bruce's grip on the bandaging. Instinctively, Bruce tucked Danny against his side, and Danny shook and twitched against him, a desperate whine tearing itself free as Danny rode out the wave of pain. Bruce all but held his breath until Danny finally slumped again, breathing heavily. His chill crept through the jacket Bruce had slipped on before coming in.

"Ready to keep going?" Bruce prodded, once Danny's breath evened out. Danny laid there for another few seconds, then nodded and pushed himself upright with a wince. Bruce picked up the dropped end of the bandage, tightened what had come loose, and kept going. "You're sore?"

"Ha." Danny lifted his arms slightly, enough to make room for Bruce to work. Bruce shifted and encouraged Danny to rest his arms on Bruce's shoulders, and Danny did, leaning against him. "Yeah, I wake up pretty achy already, even though I don't start getting spasms until ten. Just to make sure I have a really miserable day."

Uncharacteristically bitter, Bruce noted, but unsurprising under the circumstances. He didn't comment. "Remarkably, we don't currently possess any upper back bandages. I'll ask Alfred to retrieve one if you're happy with the results. We do have shoulder and wrist bandages." Bruce finished wrapping Danny's torso but didn't pull away.

Danny turned his head to squint at the bandages peeking out of the bag. "Why'd you bring so many?"

"I know how you died," Bruce reminded Danny evenly. Electrocution implied muscle pain, and Bruce had suspected his left arm would take the brunt of it. Danny shuddered, a natural one this time, and pressed himself against Bruce for comfort. Bruce dropped an arm around his back, holding him. A minute or two passed, and then Danny pulled away with a sigh.

"Okay."

Right, yes. More compression bandages. These went by much faster, simply needing to be strapped on, and soon Danny's hand and shoulder had joined his left arm and mid-back in compression. He seemed satisfied with that and laid back down on the bed, somewhat more relaxed than when Bruce had first come back in. Bruce hesitated, then shifted closer again and set his hand on Danny's upper back, carefully trying to smooth out the painful knots that had developed there. Danny 'mm'ed softly but didn't otherwise react.

Alfred knocked on the door, and Bruce called him inside when Danny made no move to. Alfred pushed open the door and brought in two plates, one for Danny and one for Bruce. Bruce accepted his with a nod.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said quietly. "Danny, are you up to eating?"

Danny didn't answer at first, but then shifted around to glower half-heartedly at the bowl Alfred had brought. Then he buried his face in Bruce's arm, grumbling, and Bruce's mouth twitched in amusement. It disappeared when another tremor wracked Danny's body, and the young teen bleated in pain, his grip tightening painfully.

Bruce forced himself to breathe evenly this time, and massaged Danny's hand with his own, pressing through the thick bandage. Danny slumped, panting, and with care, Bruce shifted his hand to massage all the way up Danny's arm, coaxing the tension out of the muscles there until he reached Danny's shoulder, skipped past the compression bandage, and pressed his fingers into Danny's back. Danny didn't say anything, but he pressed into Bruce gratefully and stayed relaxed. Somehow, still, Bruce was startled when Alfred joined him, cupping Danny's temple in one hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred coaxed, more firmly than Bruce had. "Can you stomach some applesauce?" Danny whined, a softer-toned protest than the low keens of pain he'd let slip. "I know, but you will feel worse if you don't eat anything. I don't think you want that."

Danny grumbled something that sounded like 'no' and acquiesced, allowing himself to be propped up just enough to poke the glowing applesauce with a spoon. He brightened a little at the reminder that Alfred had added ectoplasm, and started to eat. Bruce followed his example and worked quickly through his sandwich.

"I see you're making good use of our extensive collection of medical garments," Alfred said to Bruce, making Bruce snort quietly. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"If he's satisfied with the improvement from these, we'll need one for his upper back as well," Bruce said. "I'll let you know."

"Perhaps after this, the collection will be complete."

Danny got through about half the applesauce before he pushed it away, and Bruce set it on a clear spot on his nightstand before Alfred could pick it up. He glanced up at the butler. "I'll see if I can coax more of this into him later."

Alfred gave him a small smile. "Very well. I'll check in later to see how the two of you are doing."

Bruce nodded, and Alfred left to attend to the manor. Bruce turned his attention back to Danny and considered him. He had a few more questions - why Danny was staying in ghost form, if there were any physical effects from this - but nothing that couldn't wait until Danny was less ill. He picked up his tablet instead. "Would you like me to read to you?"

Danny tilted his head up to look at him, then nodded. It was barely twelve thirty and he already looked exhausted, pale even for his ghost form and cradling his left arm protectively. Bruce hoped he'd be able to sleep at some point, but that seemed unlikely until the pain had passed, which apparently would not be for hours.

Bruce picked up his tablet and quickly downloaded a book. Danny had mentioned wanting to read 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' a few times, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. "The story so far: in the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

Danny snickered softly.

As always, reading to his kids made time pass a little faster. It also gave him easy access to the digital clock, and with the note function innate to the Kindle app, he could keep track of the time and Danny's progressing condition, most importantly the interval between spasms and the relative severity of the pain.

After half an hour, he noted that the current interval period was about twelve minutes and asked Danny, "Are the compression bandages helping as much as desired?"

Danny nodded. He'd pulled a thin blanket over himself after a while, mainly for comfort, and his hold on his left arm was still loose enough that Bruce believed it was more psychological than physical for the moment. "Hurts less when I can't jerk around so much. One for my upper back would be good. The shoulder one isn't quite cutting it." He made a face.

Bruce shot off a text to let Alfred know. "Anything else you want?"

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Heat pack?" he asked, softer and more tentative, as if there was anything Bruce would say no to right now.

And that was simple enough. Bruce activated one of the handheld heating packs and handed it to Danny, who shuffled around a little before putting it on his neck, by the junction of his shoulder. Bruce picked his tablet back up and continued reading.

Alfred returned about twenty minutes later with the requested bandage, and Danny didn't protest when Bruce went to help him sit up. He wasn't weakened, Bruce judged after a minute, but there was a minute tremble in his muscles that indicated the pain was ramping up even outside of the periodic spasms.

Bruce helped him get the new compression bandage on, and then paused to smooth out some of the building tension there. Danny leaned in gratefully - he was much more physically affectionate than most of Bruce's children, he'd come to realize, except perhaps Cass and Dick. Bruce kept an eye on the clock, and made sure to get Danny down before the next spasm hit. Danny groaned, the sound drawn-out and wavering unhappily, and clung to Bruce through it before falling into a shivering, panting slump.

Alfred ran his fingers through Danny's hair, nodded to Bruce, and left quietly, as harried as ever when one of the kids was suffering.

"You happy like this, chum, or do you want to lay back how you were?" Bruce asked Danny quietly. Danny grunted, then squirmed further into Bruce's lap. It was a little eerie, Danny being so light and cold in this form that Bruce could have mistaken him for a lap full of snow, but it made Bruce smile for a moment. "Alright."

He settled down and picked up his tablet to resume reading, noting the time and event before he continued.

A part of Bruce, a not-so-small part, was furious that Danny had meant to handle this alone, without anything to even try to ease the pain; it reminded him of when nine-year-old Tim had caught a bad strain of flu, and how confused he had been when Alfred insisted on him staying at Wayne Manor to be cared for. This might not have been particularly dangerous, it was true, but Danny was miserable now and only promised to get more so through the day.

He wondered briefly how Danny had spent the previous two such events. Certainly not with his parents, there being no human explanation for this. Could he even be home for it, in the comfort of his own room, or did he have to go elsewhere? Had he been alone for either of them? It unfortunately seemed likely, especially if he hadn't known about it in advance the first time.

Even with the bandages stabilizing half his upper body, Danny's groans and whines slowly progressed into low keens of pain, and he started to clutch at himself through each one, gasping for breath like it was the only thing that would bring him comfort. Bruce shifted so one of his hands rested on Danny's shoulder, where a gap between the shoulder and upper back bandages seemed to be creating a sharp spot of pain that Danny kept trying to get at. He massaged it carefully without looking away from the tablet, and Danny relaxed a little, panting.

At two thirty, Danny started to cry, exhausted tears shining on his cheeks and faint, breathy sobs following each spasm. At three, Bruce noted that the interval had decreased to six minutes, then set the tablet aside and transferred his attention to comforting Danny.

"How are you feeling, chum?" he asked quietly.

"Hurts, God, it hurts," Danny choked out, trembling like a leaf and his better hand clamping down on his shoulder again. "'S so cold, Bruce. It's in my bones. Shouldn' be in me."

Cold. Ectoplasm? Bruce wasn't sure. Danny had never described his accident at length. "Heat pack?"

Danny nodded jerkily, so Bruce leaned forward, careful not to jostle him, and grabbed a few. He lifted the blanket enough to place one on Danny's upper back and one on his lower, then noted the time and the request. If this was indeed a yearly event, a thought that made his blood boil, they'd need to be better prepared for it next year.

A stray thought crossed Bruce's mind. Did this happen to Jason as well? Jason had never referenced anything of the sort, but he also knew that Jason never went out on the anniversary of his death. Bruce would know; he'd specifically looked out for him the first few years, before the habit became apparent, and still kept half an eye out since.

Danny cried out, no longer making any effort to muffle the noise, and seized and jerked through another long episode. Bruce counted silently. Up to thirty-three seconds. When it was over, he sobbed and curled closer to Bruce.

"Why'd they have to build that stupid portal?" Danny choked out. Bruce ruthlessly clamped down on another wave of rage at the eldest Fentons. "God. A-ah. This sucks. I wanna go to bed. I want it to be over." His voice cracked.

Sleeping pills, or a sedative? They wouldn't work on Danny's ghost form either, but depending on why he wasn't reverting to human, they could try to get him to sleep through as much of the day as possible. Something to discuss later on. "It's 3:16." Danny whined in protest. "I've got you. What hurts the most?" He checked on the heat pack by Danny's neck, making sure it was still in place.

"My chest hurts," Danny sobbed quietly, his face wet with tears. "My heart is stopping."

Unfortunately, Bruce couldn't help with that. He set his hand on Danny's chest anyway, and Danny reached up and clutched at it, apparently finding comfort in the futile gesture all the same. Even his hand trembled.

"'M scared, B," Danny confessed after another minute, almost too quiet to hear. Bruce's chest tightened, and he breathed through another wave of frustration and hatred before he could soften his voice enough to reply.

"You're going to be fine, Danny. You'll be in pain for a few more hours, but that's all it is."

"'M already dead," Danny murmured. From inflection, Bruce deduced that it was meant to be self-soothing.

Bruce's throat ached. "...Yes."

At four o'clock, the interval dropped to two minutes, counting from the end of one spasm to the start of the next. It barely gave Danny time to breathe, and he tossed and turned until Bruce moved both of them so Danny could sit up and hold onto him, crying into his shoulder. Danny held on with bruising force - and no more, as careful as Clark even now - and jerked, hands tightening and loosening in Bruce's jacket with the ebb and flow of relived pain.

You did this to him, Bruce thought at the elder Fentons, more than once.

At exactly 4:36 - Bruce was keeping as close an eye on the clock as he could manage - Danny screamed. Bruce immediately recognized the sound from an echo audible in his Ghostly Wail. Bruce's jacket tore under Danny's hands, and a horrible, quaking tremor seized Danny in an unmistakably fatal grip. Bruce counted the seconds and held Danny too tightly for him to accidentally shake himself loose.

Forty-six seconds. That was how long the worst spasm held him. Bruce assumed that was also how long it had taken Danny to die.

In contrast to the other times, when it finally released him, Danny pressed in closer instead of loosening his grip, and sobbed hysterically.

"No, no," Danny choked out, and "Please, I don't wanna-" and "Dad, Dad."

What did you say after something like that?

"I've got you," Bruce settled on. "You're safe. You're with me."

Danny calmed down slowly, sobs dying down into heaving breaths and then into a deep but labored rhythm that closely matched Bruce's but seemed to take much more effort. The next spasm that hit was much lighter, lasting only eighteen seconds, but it still sent Danny into renewed shudders and tears, holding on tightly.

When Danny seemed calm enough, Bruce shifted him enough so that Bruce could hold him in one arm, then pulled his tablet back over and logged the time of death, length of the accompanying fit, and what had followed. Interval immediately increased back to more than ten minutes (Bruce had unfortunately missed the precise time) and period decreased to eighteen seconds.

Danny set his head on Bruce's shoulder.

After that, things got much easier. At 5:15, Danny removed himself from Bruce's lap to lay down. He removed all of the heat packs and passed them to Bruce, but kept the compression bandages on. He didn't reach for the blanket but hummed gratefully when Bruce pulled it over him anyway, and Bruce sat on the floor beside him and debated returning to reading aloud.

"Whoa. You two look wiped."

Bruce looked up. Duke had opened the door to talk to them, probably too worried by what he'd seen through the door to remember to knock first, and his expression was pinched with worry. "Duke. Anything on patrol?"

"Uh, some movement I'll tattle to Jason about, but nothing big." He studied them with concern. "How's Danny doing? I didn't realize he was this sick."

Hm. Had Alfred declined to explain what had happened? Bruce glanced at Danny as the teenager hummed unhappily, but Danny didn't say anything else, so Bruce provided, "He's had a long day. I expect he'll go to sleep soon. We'll debrief tomorrow."

"Debrief?" Duke frowned at him, understanding immediately that there was more than what he'd been told, but then he glanced at Danny and just nodded. "Alright. Feel better soon, Danny. Get some rest, okay? I'll let Alfred know how you're doing."

Danny's hum this time was more positive.

At 5:30, Danny fell asleep. At 5:45, Dick came in to check on them and left once he'd come to look at Danny's sleeping (calm) face, and at 6:15, Cass came in with a plate of food for Bruce and a few granola bars for Danny. For when he wakes up, she signed.

A little while after 6:30, Bruce fell asleep without meaning to.

[queen-of-fanfics]

Stay Away From Him

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Prompt: Miguel is jealous of your closeness with Hobie and tells you to stay from him.

A/N: Well I have had too much free time at work and all I've been doing is writing. Kinda love it. Also, how did y'all like Across the Spider-Verse? I saw it four times in theaters, it's like a drug in my veins. Anywho I figured I wanted to do a fanfic in a world that I haven't done yet so here it is!

Part 2

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Peter!”

“Hey, Y/N”

“Oh hey, Peters.”

“Oi! Y/N!” Recognizing the accent, you look up in the air and see Hobie swinging his way over to you.

“Hobie! What are you doing here?!”

This was your second week working inside the Spider-Verse headquarters. You were the only person there who wasn’t some version of Spiderman. One day, Miguel O’Hara was in your universe for a job, bing bang boom, next thing you knew, he offered you a job. Your job here at headquarters was to act as his assistant of sorts. Help him with errands, help him on missions, and fetch him lunch because the poor man will work until he starves. That was exactly what you are doing now. You had finished locating the latest anomaly and went down to the cafeteria to grab him some empanadas.

Working at headquarters was like a living dream. So far, everyone seems to like you and you’ve already made friends. Hobie and Gwen welcomed you with open arms and the three of you became inseparable. During your time working with Miguel, you may have developed a little crush on your boss. You never told anyone about how your heart starts beating faster or how your breath gets shaky when he stands a little too close. Though, you never had to say because everyone could see it. And everyone warned you away from the infamous Miguel O’Hara.

“He’s not for you. He’s obsessed with his work and barely knows what having fun or being nice is. I doubt he even knows there’s a life outside of this place.” Gwen said one day during lunch.

“Who’s not for me? What are you talking about? I’m just here to work.” You shovel food into your mouth in an attempt to hide your face.

“Mmhmm, sure. You can deny it all you want but if you keep staring at him all weird like that, even he’s going to start to notice. Just trust me, you should just try to stay away from him. Which I guess isn’t possible since he’s your boss but you know what I mean.” 

“Though it does raise the question as to why he recruited her, don’t it?” Hobie chimes in. 

Hobie jumps on your back and it pulls you back to the present.

“I’m here for it! Whatchu think? I would willingly come here? Nah.”

“Actually! We just finished a mission so we just came to check in with Miguel.” Gwen swings down and lands right next to you. The three of you continue walking side by side down the hall to Miguel. Hobie throws his arm casually around your shoulder, keeping you close to his side.

You walk into the main room and see that Miguel is standing on his platform up in the air. There are a few people milling around the room, minding their business. People tend to hover around Miguel in case any missions come up or if he needs help.

“Miguel! I got you some empanadas!” You yell up at him.

He turns and barely glances over his shoulder at the three of you. He grunts and rolls his eyes in annoyance but his platform starts its slow descent. Gwen runs over to Jessica and they start talking. Hobie walks with you over to your little desk that sits on the ground floor …. like a regular person.

“So we still on for tonight?” Hobie asks.

“What’s tonight?” You turn and ask Hobie. You lean your butt against the desk to look up at him. He gets in close, places his hands against the desk on both sides of you, and cages you in with his arms.

“Whatchu mean what’s tonight? Did you forget already? Thought you and Gwen were staying in my place tonight!” Hobie teases you.

“Oh, Hobie! I forgot about that, I can’t come over.” Gwen yells over before she turns back to her conversation.

“Guess it’s just us then.” He mumbles and gives you a wink.

Before you could respond, Miguel’s voice booms through the large chamber.

“Y/N isn’t going anywhere tonight.” Looking over, you see that Miguel has lowered his platform as far as it could go and he is staring directly at the two of you with a deadly look on his face. All the conversations in the room died down and you could tell that everyone's eyes were looking between you and Miguel. Everyone treads carefully around Miguel … everyone except Hobie. 

“What? You keeping her hostage now?”

All of a sudden feeling nervous, unsure as to what put Miguel in a foul mood and not wanting to make it worse, you try to straighten up and stand in attention but Hobie isn’t moving. 

“We’ve got work to do here, Hobie. Unlike you, some of us have things we have to do.” Miguel crosses his arms and stares down at Hobie. 

“What work? We caught all the known anomalies already. Plus I was going to work on my bike, give it some more bells and whistles.” Jessica pipes up.

“There’s more work to do than just waiting around for things to happen.” 

“Then what do I gotta do, hmm?” Jessica sasses back to him.

“Nothing. I, uh, just want to do some surveillance. Never know ”

“And what Y/N got to do with it, then?” Hobie asks, giving Miguel a weird look.

“Y/N is my assistant. Y/N must assist me. And get off of her Hobie.”

“Right, but it don’t sound like there is any real work to do. I don’t see why Y/N gotta sit here and suffer being around you. And, uh, I’m actually quite comfortable where I am.”

“No no, I don’t mind. It’s my job. I can stay” You rush to say as you start pushing at Hobie’s shoulders. 

Hobie turned slowly to look at you without budging and you just stared up at him. “Move.” you mouth to Hobie with beseechment in your eyes. But all he does is smile at you and barely visibly shakes his head ‘No’. Eyes wide, you think to yourself, I’m not going to have a job after this. The room is still silent and no one speaks as the tension rises. 

“Everyone out!” Miguel booms, “Looks like no one wants to work anyways. It’s not as if we’re trying to save the entire universe or anything.” 

“Oh! Miguel, we wanted to check in about the-” Gwen is cut off when Miguel turns back around to his monitors and yells, “OUT!”

Everyone exchanges nervous looks around the room while they pick up their things. The whole time though, Hobie is looking down at you with a knowing smirk on his face. “What are you smiling about?” You hiss at him as you push him up so you can grab your bag and head out. 

“Oh just something I think you should find out for yourself. And you might soon.”

“Ugh, I’m going to kill you.” 

Hobie throws his arm around you and leads you out, “Yeah sure, but hey, looks like you can come over after all, aye?”

“Everyone except for Y/N!” You whirl around at the sudden sound but Miguel is still just looking at his monitors.

“Damn, looks like you’re going to find out real soon. See ya sweet cheeks.” Hobie gives you a wink and walks out with everyone else. 

You stood in the doorway waiting for Miguel’s instructions but after a few beats, you realized that he wasn’t going to turn around and talk to you. Slowly walking back to your desk, you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in the room did not leave along with everyone else. It still lay thick and heavy in the air. Taking off your bag and placing it on your desk, you turn around to face Miguel. You open your mouth to say something to break the silence but he cuts you off. 

“Come up here and help me look at this.” 

Your eyes grew wide and you hurried over to the dais. Your heartbeat started quickening with excitement, you have never been invited onto the platform before. Miguel looks down his nose at you with a disgusted look on his face as you struggle to even get your leg on the platform.

“Sorry, don’t got webs like y’all. Give me a second.”

You finally heave yourself up and flop over on your back, gulping down deep breaths of air. “You know, I’m starting to think I’m out of shape.” Figuring that it was time to actually get to work, you jump up to your feet and face the monitors.

“Alrighty, so what am I looking at?” All of the monitors were showing different videos of different universes. Some other monitors had new articles and alerts of potential disturbances. 

“Just, uh, keep an eye on some of the security cameras we have posted around. See if you catch any suspicious activity.”

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight? Did you get a tip?”

“No, just doing our due diligence to keep everything in line.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you gave Miguel a side-eye look. This is what he’s keeping me here to do? To watch some cameras? 

The whole time he was talking to you and giving you instructions, he did not glance at you, just busily pressing buttons and typing something.

About 10 minutes went by in absolute silence with Miguel working and you … “working”. Getting bored and tired on your feet, you start leaning around the table and let out a sigh. Miguel looks at you over his shoulder but turns back to his work. Another 10 minutes go by before he asks, “So you and Hobie are friends?”

Surprised by the question and surprised he even spoke, you responded, “Yeah, I would like to think so. He’s nice, I like hanging out with him.”

“You two have gotten close?”

Getting confused by his line of questioning, you give him a weird look that he doesn’t see. “I mean, I don’t know about close. We hang out with Gwen too. It’s usually the three of us.”

A few silent beats fall between the two of you before he responds, “I didn’t know you were visiting different universes.”

“Hmm, I’m not really. Besides my own home universe, I’ve only just been to Hobie’s. I haven’t seen Gwen’s though not even she goes back there.” 

Again he doesn’t reply immediately and the comfortable silence continues. 

“I would advise you to stay away from Hobie. He could be a bad influence on you or something.” He mumbles so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked, turning your body full to look at him now. 

“I said ‘you should stay’-”

“No, I know what you said. But I don’t understand why. What’s going on with you? Are you stressed about something? Do you not like Hobie? Because Hobie has been nothing but nice to me and he’s a friend. He keeps me safe even when I visit his universe.”

“And exactly how many times have you visited his universe, hmm? You two seem pretty comfortable flying across universes together.” It was his turn to turn and face you. Standing at his full height, the tops of your head barely came up to his collar bones. 

“I-I- … I don’t know. A few times I guess? 4? Maybe 5 times? But-”

“5 times?! You met him not even two weeks ago and you’ve already been hanging around him that much?” You were trying to explain to ease whatever caused his temper to rise. However, with every response you give, it only seems to anger him more. With every response, he is taking a step closer to you and walking you backward.

“I guess? But he’s my friend! And I’ve always been safe if that’s the issue. He keeps me safe. I know I’m not a Spider-Man like you but-” Miguel ignores your argument and cuts you off again.

“Right right and he keeps you safe which I am sure he is more than happy to do seeing as how he’s always getting up in your space. And what exactly do you do in his universe? You run around town like some hooligans and go back to your home universe when it’s late enough to be considered morning?”

“Ah- No, we hang out at his place and have dinner and stuff, I don’t know! And when it gets late I just stay over at his place!” 

“Stay over?! What? Like overnight? He’s got guest rooms now? He’s hosting house parties?” There’s sarcasm dripping in his words but your brain was running too fast to notice.

“N-No he doesn’t. He’s not. He just lets me use his bed when I’m too tired to go home and I’d just wake up the next morning to come here.” 

All of a sudden, he takes one last step forward and you take one step back but your backside hits the table. He drops his hands on either side of you, exactly like how Hobie had you pinned against your desk earlier but this is different. This feels different. The tension is palpable. With Hobie, it was friendly and playful. With Miguel … it feels like you’re getting hunted and just got caught.

“He what?” Miguel’s voice isn’t loud and angry anymore. No. It’s low and deadly. His question comes out always like a whisper as he leads in so close that your noses are practically touching.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. Hobie is just my friend. Why does this feel like it’s a problem?” You whisper. Miguel doesn’t reply. He simply stares at you with such intensity in his eyes, you’re surprised you didn’t evaporate. Suddenly, he’s looking at your lips. Acting almost instinctively, your tongue shoots out to wet your lips and his eyes immediately shoot back up to yours. There’s the intensity in his eyes again, only this time, it’s different. Definitely not anger.

Suddenly, an alarm from Miguel’s monitor goes off and the sound is thunderous in the silent chamber. 

After a few beats, Miguel drops his forehead on yours, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The whole time, you never take your eyes off of him. Your heart is beating so fast and the blood is rushing in your ears. Very abruptly, he pushes off of the table and whirls around to the monitor. He turns off the alarm and starts typing away, completely ignoring you. Slowly pushing up from the table, you turn back to your own monitor and stare blankly at the empty alleyways and random buildings. 

Where there was comfortable silence before, now, the silence is deafening. 

“You should go home Y/N. I can finish this up on my own.”

Not sure of how to act or how to respond, you slowly climb down from the platform without saying a word and fetch your things.

“And I mean home, Y/N. To your home universe. To your own house. To your own bed.”

Looking back up the dais, Miguel is still facing his monitors, not even looking at you when he talks. Hitching your bag higher up on your shoulder, you respond, “Of course. Goodnight, Miguel. And … for what it’s worth … he always slept on the couch.” 

And with that, you take off running down the hall and teleport back home. 

[veltana]

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

[voidsuites]

FANTASY-THEMED BOT RELEASE !!! (12/20/24) ⌢ ✨ .ᐟ

art donaldson ・゜゜・．angelic inquisitions. he's your guardian angel. while he's not as naïve as he appears to be, art is not as well-versed in some parts of human culture as he is in others. you've opted to give him some hands-on experience when it comes to the more... romantic side of humanity, and that alone in and of itself is more daunting than anything he's done. you'll just have to forgive him if your lesson ends with him short-circuiting any electronics in the area... it's really not his fault.

art donaldson ・゜゜・．siren song. in a small, seaside town like new rochelle, tales of sirens are shared as warnings— and as reasoning for their curfew as soon as the sun sets over the sea cliffs. no one has spotted in one in decades since the town's formation, but no one dares to investigate if the infamous mythological creatures truly reside in the waters that span their coast... all until art's curiosity gets the best of him. what's the point of being wary of something if it doesn't truly exist? he'll quickly come to learn that some legends are based in fact, not fiction.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．bones and all. you knew patrick was the same as you the moment your eyes met; you don't live with something like vampirism your entire life and not know how to spot it in others. still, with patrick came understanding, and with understanding came connection. still, it doesn't help to soothe the ache that's left whenever your true nature manages to slip out, but patrick would never hold something like that against you. with you both being vampires, there's nothing guaranteed for the two of you in terms of safety and security, and patrick would never forgive himself if you got hurt. everything he does— every thought, every action, every unnecessary breath from lungs that don't require air— is for you.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．post-full-moon blues. patrick's always a bit irritable and clingy after the full moon leaves its toll on his body, so his routine of trudging in at the wee hours of the morning is all but commonplace at this point. just because it was patrick underneath all the fur, teeth, and claws didn't mean that he was any better than the overactive golden retriever that belonged to the grocer in town, and that fact is all the more apparent when he comes in smelling like the woods, dirt, and wet dog (not that you'd ever tell him that). but sleep disturbances and handsy touches aside...he's had a long night. give him a little break.

tashi duncan ・゜゜・．staking her claim. most vampires weren't dumb enough to encroach on what tashi's claimed as hers— not when she's been around for as long as she has. but when some fledgling vampire at the club she's taken you to puts his hands on her human... it's more than enough to make the vampiress seethe. maybe she should have chosen some other place to take you to— somewhere older, cleaner, and that served more dignified vampires like herself who understood their kind's customs. tashi doesn't share, nor does she ever plan to, and she's more than willing to prove that for all to see.

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH FOR FOR 7.2K! that number is so crazy i'm still processing it... thank you thank you thank you!!!! these were so much fun to make omg especially the patrick ones... patrick zweig "bones and all"... definitely hope i can make some more bots like this in the future! shoutout to 🥧 anon fr and juliana and diya and lee and the countless other anons who send requests both on here and on my request form... u all do the most and keep this thing going lol. love you guys! <333333

[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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[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 012 ! the talk

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

previous <> masterlist <> next

you woke up in an unfamiliar room, completely unsure of where you were. then you felt riki’s arm wrapped around your waist, and you realized, you were at his dorm.

you smiled contently, relaxing in his grasp once you became aware of your surroundings.

“five more minutes. there’s no schedule today..” he grumbled.

“good morning, boyfriend.” you smiled, turning around to face riki so you could hug him tightly.

“good morning my lovely girlfriend.” he sighed, placing a light kiss on your forehead. “let’s stay like this.”

“actually,” heeseung said as he barged into the room, with sunghoon and jungwon following behind. “we need to have the talk.”

riki looked at them confused, immediately sitting up as he reluctantly pulled away from you.

“the talk?” “not that talk! we mean, the ‘addressing the dating scandal and how you’ll tell the staff’ talk.”

“dumbass!” sunghoon exclaimed as he slapped heeseung’s shoulder. “you should’ve said ‘a talk’, not ‘the talk’.”

and so, you and riki sat in the living room on the couch, as the three elder boys stood in front of you.

“eventually, you guys are gonna have to tell the staff. and especially the managers. they might be more upset than bangpd.” jungwon informed. “sooner or later you’re gonna have to. so i think it should be within the next week.”

"wait- i thought we agreed we wouldn't say anything to the company unless they get caught somehow in public again." said sunghoon, interrupting jungwon.

"are you seriously gonna wait for them to get in a FOURTH scandal before releasing a statement? you should just rip off the bandaid already and do it now. just get it over with." heeseung replied.

"wouldn't this be the fifth?" sunghoon interrupted once more. "no, because the third time was just announcing they were gonna be mubank mcs, and a lot of people didn't like it. that wasn't a scandal." said jungwon.

"so what were the first three times?" he asked. "mubank incident, convenience store incident, dating scandal, and then if they're caught in public again this will be the fourth." jungwon sighed, growing tired of the conversation already.

"okay! enough is enough. you guys are getting way off topic.” heeseung exclaimed. “just do it tomorrow. it’s not up to you guys. it’s what’s best for the company.” he announced, before leaving the room.

sunghoon and jungwon shrugged in agreement before walking back upstairs.

“what are we gonna do?” riki asked as his head fell onto your shoulder.

“they’re right. the sooner we get it over with, the better.”

“but shouldn’t we wait? we only started dating yesterday. it feels too soon if they release an article by next week.”

“we don’t need to share the exact date, and they don’t have to publish any information we don’t want shared.” you comforted, taking his hands into yours.

“okay.” riki nodded. “i trust you princess. i’ll follow your lead.”

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[tenebrius-excellium]

Thinking about how Hiccup had zero problems with killing the Red Death in the first movie. Reminds me of how surprised I was that every movie and show afterwards chose to characterize him as this sort of 'naive pacifist' guy. Hiccup was NEVER that. At least first movie Hiccup wasn't, so I keep being surprised they went there.

Viggo said at the end of Rtte that Hiccup taught him to respect dragons as equals, I believe? But that means that there are hateful dragons. Revengeful dragons. Harmful dragons. Asshole dragons. Which means that not every dragon should live, if they are that kind of smart and capable of attacking humans again and again.

If they have a personality, they can be like orcas, who sink ships for fun. They can have destructive feuds with each other. They can be like cats knocking glasses off of counters and like roosters having it in for someone in particular. If dragons are equal to humans, then they cannot be trained to do humans' bidding because they are above that. They can only be genuinely befriended. A dragon will choose to lower its innate dragon-ness - the wild and dangerous ability to roast you with a single breath - and act docile for you if it likes you. Sort of like a crow? But a dragon is not a pet, at least that's not how I understood the Httyd dragons. Which means, that if it comes down to it - Hiccup versing a dragon that is standing between him and the humans he loves - a dragon who won't be talked down, who won't be persuaded to be peaceful, a dragon who greedily insists on its power in a situation that endangers Hiccup's loved ones - I think Hiccup totally would still choose to kill that dragon. Somehow, this confrontation was avoided throughout all the rest of Httyd.

Thinking about this specifically in the context of wasps being on my mind. This summer, I decided that I'm not going to be afraid of wasps anymore. And so when watching them as they steal my breakfast from me, I find that they, too, just want to eat because they just discovered a delicious feast. They don't want to sting me, they are only interested in having a bite of my delicious marmalade as well. Now, when trying to handle them, wasps are going to be wasps. So I've simply got to finish my breakfast as long as there is only 1 wasp buddy around. As soon as buddy goes flying off to tell his friends about the party he found, I leave and take my stuff with me. That is how I avoid getting myriades of wasps all over my food. That is how I avoid getting stung out of irritation. That is how no wasps get killed.

By respecting the nature of who wasps are. By assuming that wasps are going to be wasps. Now, I can still say that I shared my breakfast with an animal. Cycle of life. Isn't that wonderful.

But if a wasp starts invading my space too much, selfishly annoying me again and again despite getting its share of the cake, that wasp is going to get GONE. And I believe that dragons of intelligence should be treated with the same courtesy. Og Hiccup did that.

Og Hiccup is just the best. He's very perfect.

[gaysindistress]

Basically everyone at work has the flu and I’m starting to feel like death has finally sunken its talons into me so enjoy my illness induced headcanons for datv. I’ve also only played 30 hrs so these could and will be wildly inaccurate but I simply don’t care 😙💕

How datv companions would react to you being sick

Lucanis is sitting by your bedside at all times. We all know he refuses to sleep and you being sick is the perfect reason to stay up! He needs to make sure your fever is breaking or can get you anything should you wake up in the middle of the night. He’s making you immune boosting soups and there’s always a cup of hot tea waiting for you when you awake.

Darvin has figured out how to train Assan to find you whatever herbs you need. You need a special mushroom only grown in the depths of the forest where there’s been a recent fire? Darvin and Assan are on it. He’s also going to be the one to who says they’re going to sit with you at night but fall asleep in their chair while Assan is curled up beside you in bed.

Harding is using all of her outdoorsy knowledge to figure out what is going to help you the most. My money is on her being the one who knows exactly what herbs you need and sending Darvin out.

Taash. Sweet baby Taash is refusing to let you move a muscle. They’re carrying you to and from the bath, from your room to the kitchen; anywhere you go, you’re in their arms. They will also act annoyed if you give them puppy dog eyes and ask them to cuddle you because they’re warm. They’ll huff and roll their eyes as they gently push you over and plop down beside you.

Neve is the best detective there is which means she knows exactly what you’re sick with and how to treat it. She probably even knew before you did and was slipping you immune boosting teas or some shit. You’re the light of her life and she will not have you taken out by the damn flu.

Bellara is frantic. She’s the one who needs to sit down and talk to you because she’s worked herself into a frenzy. She’s partially convinced you’re dying while also believing that there’s no way because you’re you and you’re so strong and… you get the picture. She’s going to be one who breaks into tears when you start coughing really hard or when you grab her hand to get her to just sit down as she paces the room.

Emmrich is admittedly not well versed in the alignments of the living but he has Manfred! His dear undead assistant is at your beck and call all hours of the day while your necromancer is reading to you. He’ll have the others do what they do best while he does what he does best; soothe your soul. He’ll read to you for hours on end and when the books have run out (quite an unimaginable horror I might add), he’ll simply talk to you about whatever you desire.

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part three: celebrating

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 4,513 words Genre: 18+ / smut. mdni! remember to not use fics as your only source of sex ed.  Summary: Your birthday celebration takes a turn when Jungkook forgets to uninvite a particular guest. Part 3 of Recording & Editing. Read it in that order for context. More warnings under read more.

Includes: 3k words of just smut. Mentions of posting / selling sex content. Dirty talk. Use of pet names ( baby, doll, good girl? ). Fingering ( f ), Oral sex ( f and m ). Frottage. Cum play? A bit of overstimulation? Possessive Yoongi because Reveal!Yoongi is just like that and I can't do anything about it. It's true, I tried.  Author's note: Okay, I think this is actually the last one for this. A trilogy is fine, right? But also don't quote me on that because clearly I can't seem to know how to stop writing this pair and I'm watching Jungkook from a distance like 👀 but shhh Which speaking of, I was thinking and if you want to know more about the characters in this verse specifically, you can send an ask with “( reveal!verse )” at the beginning, maybe specify if you want it to be answered ic with “( @ reveal!theirname )” , and a question or whatever you want to say. Idk, thought it could be fun~ Also, I made a post with different options for tag lists in case anyone is interested. You know, for future projects and stuff. But don't feel preassure to request it, and thank you for following this mini series. Anyway. I hope you like this and if you do please remember to comment, reblog, ask, follow, and whatnot. And again, thank you for reading <3

“You know, you could reply instead of just staring at it,” Jungkook says, over your shoulder.

You're sitting in your living room, phone in your hand with the audio post on screen. There was no way of denying you were caught, you had already embarrassed yourself by acting like a schoolgirl when telling him about SugaD leaving a comment.

“But what if I say something dumb and he deletes it?”

“Why would he do that? He thinks you're cute,” he teases.

“The cutest,” you correct, silly smile on your face once again. 

“See. You should shoot your shot and talk to him, he clearly is interested in you too,” he winks, finally walking around the couch to sit at your side, fresh bowl of popcorn on his lap.

“But it's all so crazy. I don't even know how he found my page, he only follows big creators.”

“Well, he asked me.”

“What?”

“He asked who you were,” his Bambi eyes blink at you, fear creeping on his soft expression, “I… don't kill me, please.” He moves away from you and that makes you turn to him, leg over the couch and phone forgotten.

“Jungkook? What did you do?” All the scenarios go through your mind, imagining the worst. He told him you kind of have a big old crush on him even if you have never seen his face? Did he tell him about the joke of suing him because he is so—

“And I was busy so I thought, you know, he works with music and edits his own content and it seemed like a good idea,” he is talking so fast and you realize you missed the beginning of it, but before you can ask him to start over he just burst it, “so he edited it.”

“He what?”

“The audio. Your audio. He edited it.”

“My… audio.” The audio you're sure included the start of his video.

Fuck.

Shit.

That's so much worse.

You should delete your account. Delete yourself. You want to move to another country and change your name. 

“Fuck.”

“I'm sorry. I should have asked you, but I figured…” he trails off, coming closer again. “I just… I didn't think it was a big deal because… well, I didn't know he was gonna subscribe to you. He only subscribes to people he is friends with and I know he doesn't even watch their stuff.”

You can tell he is trying to make you feel better, and although you appreciate the effort, everything is confusing. Does that mean he wants to be friends? But he doesn't watch his friends's content so… no friends?

“Fuck.” You murmur again.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks softly, worrying the ring on his bottom lip. 

“I… don't know.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Let's finish the movie.”

But you can concentrate for the rest of it, and know that you'd have to watch it again another time in case your friend brings up something important about the plot. But now, the only thing in your head is theories about what you're going to do about that one particular comment and, again, you consider just deleting the whole thing.

Jungkook invites you the next weekend to the restaurant, it's his free day but he tells you he can get you the birthday special even if it’s one day early and he can even sing for you. You tell him you are only going if he doesn't make a whole thing out of it. You'd wear the birthday hat and blow out the candles, but if he dares to bring more attention to you, you actually will kill him.

He believes you. 

And so, here you are. Sitting in a booth in front of Jungkook and Hanna, your best friend. Big chocolate cake in front of you that they insisted on getting because “you can have it for dessert for the next week and think about how much we love you”, and also because you love chocolate.

“Sorry. Am I late?” A voice behind you interrupts the end of the birthday song, your smile falling because you could recognize it anywhere, and the fact that he is here makes you panic.

“Oh, shit… ah…” Jungkook stumbles over his words, even comes close to knocking his drink. “Sorry. Hi.” He greets the guy and throws an apologetic look your way. “This is my friend Yoongi.”

“Oh, hi. I'm Hanna and didn't know we were waiting for someone, but good thing we got a big cake, uh?” she jokes and looks at you. She does that whenever you're around people and you don't talk, her way of making you feel included. 

But right now you want to disappear. Birthday crown and all. Maybe take the cake too.

“Hi,” you say timidly, eyes on Jungkook instead.

“I…” he starts, remorseful look on his face as he explains, “invited Yoongi last week, didn't want to third wheel with you two.”

“Oh, that's fun! Well, you want to sit there or should I move?” Hanna proposes and you're about to say she should come to your side even if that means Jungkook has to stand up too, but Sug— Yoongi speaks faster.

“I’ll sit here. Is that okay?” 

You only nod, scooting to your right to make space for him. To not be so close he notices how nervous he makes you just with his presence.

He smells nice. Fresh and woody at the same time, and is only overwhelming because is him. Because a lot of things about him are a mystery still and you are about to unlock them all right now.

“Those are cute,” Hanna says.

“Ah, yes. I… these are for you,” a bouquet is presented on your line of vision. Is not big nor too much, the perfect size to be a nice present and it lets you admire the flowers’ beauty. “Happy birthday.”

“You didn't have to.”

“You don't like it?” If you weren't so focused on your own nerves you'd have noticed the ones on his voice.

“I do.” You quickly say. It's cute. The lavender mixed with two types of white flowers you don't recognize but you love the look of, mostly the one that looks like little stars. “Is really pretty. Thank you.”

“I'll bring you a drink,” Jungkook says, and looking at him you know he needs one himself. You could actually kill him after this.

“Wait, where is the restroom?” Asks Hanna and your eyes lift from your present so fast your neck almost hurts, but she is quickly disappearing in the direction Jungkook points her to.

And that's what you get for keeping everything a secret from your best friend. Karma as its finest.

“Pff,” you breathe, sinking into your seat. 

“I can go if you want me to,” Yoongi says softly at your side.

“What? No, no is—” you try to explain is not him. Nothing is wrong actually. Everything is perfect and you're totally not freaking out.

“You haven't looked my way,” does he sounds hurt? “Is alright. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just thought… I don't know. JK invited me weeks ago and then I found out who you were,” you cringe at that, knowing he most likely means when he listened to your audio. “I figured I'd take the chance and meet you.”

“Why? I mean. Don't you feel uncomfortable because of the…” finishing your sentence feels unnecessary and saying it at loud is embarrassing.

“The fact that you watch my videos?”

“I swear I only watched like three and I don't do that with all of them is just— Are you laughing?” Finally you turn to him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. But is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

You don't answer. 

“Of course I don't mind.” He leans in, "If you sound that cute, I'll let you watch all of them for free.”

Breath caughts on your throat, looking at him with big round eyes. His face is right there and you try to take it all in. Clean shaved, jawline not too harsh and with soft features, crested moon shaped brown eyes, pink lips, and the way they curve up when he catches you staring at them.

“I don't want to go, but if you want me to, I'll do it.” he backs out, and somehow you can tell he is genuine.

“Stay.”

After dinner and some chatting, Jungkook offers to drive Hanna home and Yoongi takes you to his place. It’s fancy, looks like taken out of a magazine and you tell him exactly that. He asks you if you want to judge his room too and with a laugh you tell him yes, because honestly, you're curious now.

You tell him it doesn't look too cozy and suggest investing in a nice blanket, he raises an eyebrow at you and finally you confess you're an interior designer by day. He tells you he is a music producer. And then you talk about how and why each of you decided to join OF and what kind of things you have discovered you like during that journey.

“Interesting,” he says when you confess you started following him because of a hand picture you saw somewhere else. He has been playing with your fingers while you lay on his bed, is relaxing and you don’t mind at all. “You said you were going to sue me, should I even be this close?” 

“Oh my—” you pull away, covering your face. And he laughs. “Go away.”

“No, c'mon. It's cute.” He tries to turn your body to its side, but you don't give in. “Look at me, please.”

“No. I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because no.”

He laughs again, hand on your hip, “Baby, please?” Head shake is your answer, “I'm sorry. Should I confess something too?” 

“Yes.”

“Let's see,” he props himself on his elbow, looking at you even if you are still covered. “I knew about you before the audio.”

“You did?”

“Well, Jungkook talks about you all the time and I was curious. I think it was the third time you guys collabed that I saw a picture and he mentioned your name on his page.”

“Which picture?” You ask, uncovering half your face to look at him, he smiles.

“The one with the books. You were holding one in front of you.”

You remember that. Like all your pictures with Jungkook, it was suggestive more than anything and in that one the pose made it look like you were touching yourself.

“And now I know what you sound like doing that,” he teases, “wonder if I'd be lucky enough to see it someday.”

“You've to stay subscribed and see,” is your turn to have fun.

“Should I make another instruction video for you?” or maybe not. And before you cover yourself again, he holds your wrist, bracelet digging a little on your skin but not enough to actually hurt. “Don't. Let me see you.”

“Yoongi…”

“Fuck. Don't say my name like that,” is only half joking, but he knows you can tell he wants you just as much. “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod and his lips touch yours in a millisecond. They are soft, but his movements are quick, and soon his tongue is asking for permission to enter your mouth. With a moan, you granted happily and hungry to taste him. 

His hand goes back to your waist, only resting before squishing it gently. Your own hand traveling to his nape and bringing him closer, your chests touching.

In need of air you break the kiss, and instead of stopping, his mouth keeps working down your jaw and neck, “ohh…” you try to breathe, throwing your head back just enough to give him space. It feels so good you don't want to stop.

And he doesn't. He continues until he reaches the fabric of your dress, covering your chest. He imagines your little gold collar he saw in some pictures. He thinks about buying you one on silver to match his own jewelry or buying a chain for himself the color of yours. Anything would do, he just wants you to be his and for people to know.

“W-wait,” your voice brings him back, and he stops immediately, “don't leave marks. At least not visible.”

“Okay, I can get creative.” A wink seals his promise and his hand moves to the buttons in the front of your dress, his lips following soon behind to attach themselves to the exposed skin. To your breast. He licks and kisses and when he reaches your nipple he flicks his tongue a few times. 

That gets a good reaction from you, but he still asks “You like that?” because it does good to his ego and the mid-erection on his pants.

You nod between whimpers and can feel his laugh through his chest resting on your stomach, “is that enough?” You look at him, the lust on his eyes and his stupid smirk on his lips when he frees your abused skin from his mouth, leaving a bruise on your breast. “Is my tongue enough to make you cum, doll?” 

And your pussy answers for herself. Legs impossibly close in search of some friction and, of course, Yoongi noticed.

“You need something?”

“P-please…”

“Tell me. I'll give you anything, baby.” His voice is raspy like on the videos you watch alone at night. Except is not through a screen and is actually directed to you. Is everything you wanted while touching yourself and for a second you wonder if it's really happening.

Running your hand through his hair you look at him, now lower on the bed and playing with the bottom of your dress while he waits for a sign between your folded legs, cheek against your thigh, letting you catch your breath. 

“Yoongi?” 

“Hmm?” his hand stops on your leg, heavy and warm.

“Touch me, please.”

And you don't have to tell him twice. His hands roam your body, while he leaves kisses here and there. Too desperate to finish unbuttoning it, the bottom of your dress gets pooled at your waist, revealing the lilac lingerie he saw a picture of the other day. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, fingertips traising the embroidered details. It makes you shiver. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are.” His movements travel south to the patch over your entrance, and you respond just as he expects, moaning.

And before you can get used to that, his tongue is on you, flat over the wet and thin fabric. “Can't wait to taste you properly,” sounds a lot like a promise.

Biting your lip, you contemplate asking him to hurry, to give you anything. To get rid of all of your clothes yourself.

But he knows exactly how to drive you crazy. 

Moving your panties to the side with the help of his left hand, the fingers on his right one make an appearance again. Collecting your wetness and using it to rub over your pussy, only applying little pressure at first. Moans echo throughout his room once again, louder and this time in the company of a couple groans from him when he finally pushes in. 

“O-oh… oh my,”

“That's it. Let me hear your pretty sounds,” he encourages, letting you get used to the sensation before adding another one, his eyes on you the whole time. In the way you lick your lips before moaning, the way your hips move towards his hand asking to be fucked, the way your pussy wraps around his fingers. 

“...more.” Is barely a whisper but he hears it, smiling at you.

“Want more? Is not enough?”

“Need you, please” 

And how can he say no to you when you look at him that way. Like he is the only one that can give you what you need, how you want. 

His head disappears between your legs, mouth watering at the thought. He can't even deny he was waiting for you to ask him to eat you out, he would do it in a second, whenever you want, because “oh, god, you taste so sweet.” 

Feeling your legs closing he holds them back, pushing them against your torso with his free hand and squishing your soft skin just as tight as you are doing to his fingers. Thinking about how much force he would need to apply to leave a mark.

“F-fu… fuck. It, it feels so good, please.”

He is proud, lips curving lightly but without wanting to pull away to smile properly. His tongue laps at your entrance alongside his fingers, moving faster and faster, against that spot that makes your body tremble and makes the knot at the bottom of your abdomen want to scream.

“Please, please, please…” 

And he knows what that means. Knows you're close and just need a little push, and he gives it to you in the form of a “Cum for me, baby.”

And you do. Head back and pussy tight around him, legs closing and hand pushing him away when his tongue keeps working, overstimulating and catching all that you give him.

“Oh… my…” you breath. Legs still shaking but feet finally on the mattress again. 

He is standing at the end of his bed, one hand pushing his long hair back and the other unbuckling his belt, eyes on you while he takes you in. “Was that good?” He asks, you nod and he smiles matching yours. “Great. You deserve it.” 

“You want some help with that?” 

“What do you want?” Yoongi throws back, “You’re the birthday girl, after all.”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, thoughts filled with ideas of the things you had wished to be able to do before, you watch him get rid of his jeans and boxers, his dick on full view for you. Only you. “Can I suck you off?”

Obviously, he can't say no, so he nods and you are quick to stand up, legs still feeling a bit weak after your orgasm, but it isn't a problem because as quick as your dress falls completely to the floor, you're kneeling in front of him, between his legs and hands on his tights.

You watch him stroke himself a couple times through gritted teeth, his other hand coming to cup your cheek as you get closer to his length. Saying you had been waiting for this wouldn't be an exaggeration, and without breaking eye contact you stick your tongue out, touching the blush tip slowly. 

He sighed, as if he was, too, relieved at the contact. “So pretty.” 

You push his hand away, taking his hardened length into your hand, only realizing then how big he actually is.

Tapping his dick on your tongue gets you a groan from him and you hum as you wrap your lips around the head, circling your tongue around it inside your mouth before letting go. He smiles at you, his chest moving fast as his breathing increases and his eyes are filled with lust. Your hand moves up and down when your mouth is not working, still wanting him to feel good.

Preparing yourself, you get closer again, taking more in and closing your eyes, adjusting to the girth. 

“Fuck,” he moans, thumb softly stroking your face as his hand moves to the back of your neck when you imitate the previous movements of your hand, going up and down, taking more and more into your mouth. “Y-yeah, just like that.”

The encouragement helps the feeling on your lower abdomen to build in again, pussy squeezing around nothing and moaning around his dick, making Yoongi clench his jaw, bucking his hip up, and letting his grip go only at the last second. He wants to fuck your mouth so bad. Only watching your lips around him is driving him crazy and you feel oh, so warm. 

“So pretty, doll,” he compliments as you try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, only closing them when he hits the back of your throat. 

You come up, catching your breath as you let your hand do some more work. Collecting your spit and rubbing your thumb on his sensitive tip. He reacts just as you expect, groans and head tilted back slightly, with his hands on either side gripping the black sheets. And that gives you an idea. 

“Can you…” eyes are on you immediately, but you wish they weren't because that makes you shy and is even more difficult to ask.

“Tell me, baby.” He pleads, “I'll give you anything, just ask.”

But is easier to show than tell, and your fingers grab around one of his wrists, positioning his hand on the back of your head. “Just… hold it.” 

“Fuck.” He has to inhale quickly before nodding, are you reading his mind? “tap my thigh if it gets too much, okay?”

A nod of your own, licking your lips before taking his dick in your mouth once again, the simple weight of his hand being enough to encourage you to take more in and staying there a bit longer before bobbing your head.

Yoongi alternates between letting you follow your own peace and holding you down for a few more seconds every once in a while, finally letting himself slam his hips more harshly against your mouth and the back of your throat. His moans fill the air as he pushes into you. “feels amazing… you take my cock so well.” You hum, making his hips fuck into you at the vibration, increasing the tension on his lower abdomen. “Such a good girl.”

“I could fuck your pretty mouth all night,” he goes on, looking down at you and all the mess you've created between his legs. “Oh f-fuck. What a beautiful sight.” opening your eyes makes the view even better, and he holds your head down, making you gag around his dick, “ah… ah…” he lets go, not wanting to come just yet.

And it might be the first time you see him and his beautiful dick in person, but SugaD’s last video is fresh on your mind, —how could it not after the anxiety of him finding out— so you remember he likes to hold back. And is hot. But he is right, is your birthday celebration and you don't want to play by his rules.

“Are you close?” the hoarseness in your voice is surprising for a second, but you don't have time to think about how it's most likely going to hurt tomorrow because he is fixing your hair behind your ears with a devious smile on his beautiful face.

“Want me to come in your pretty mouth?”

“No.” He raises an eyebrow at the quickness of your answer. “I have an idea.”

Standing up, your knees thank you, only realizing then you'll also have to deal with that later, being so in your head while giving head, the weight of having him in your mouth a priority, that you didn't even care until then. 

You're back laying on his bed, pulling Yoongi to be in front of you, between your legs. “Is going to be embarrassingly fast if you ask me to fuck you right now.”

And for a second you consider it. Because he is not saying no and because he looks so good like this, hands reaching down to hold your waist and bring you closer to him down the bed. But you shake your head no. “You ruined my plans today,” feeling the need to justify your pervy desires you explain, “I was supposed to take pics today for my birthday post, so now you have to help.”

“You want me to take pictures of you?” also not saying no, just clarifying, and you can see in the lust of his gaze he likes the idea.

“I want you to do something first,” shyness invades again but looking down at his hardened length is enough to deliver the message, “and then take a picture. If you want.”

Yoongi is close to you again, bending down to kiss you with a “fuck yes, I want to.” His dick is resting over your pelvis, and you can't help the involuntary thrust your own body does. It feels heavy, and warm, and just so perfect. And when he thrust his hips, frotting against yours, you can't take it.

“Y-yoongi,” and he does it again and again, and soon you're cumming by just the feeling and the thought of how would it be to be actually fucked by him, how much would he reach inside you, making you feel so full and “Ohhh… oh”

He holds you and kisses down your neck as you come down your high a second time, before kneeling once more at the end of the bed. “You look so fucking precious, baby,” he notes, hand wrapping around his dick once more.

“You look great too,” you offer, biting your lip before letting honesty take over shyness, “I finally get to see you.”

“You been thinking about it?” He knows exactly what you mean. The reason he cuts it off his videos isn't just for privacy, is to give people something to wish for, to yearn.

You nod.

“Baby wants to see me cum?” Another nod, lost for words, but he is not having it. “Tell me.”

“Yoongi…”

“C'mon, baby. Tell me,” he taps his dick over your clothed pussy. Once, twice. Making your body jump at each touch. He teases the tip over your over-sensitive area and then taps again. Honestly, is hard to tell if he is teasing you or himself, but either works.

“I-I want to see you, please.”

His wrist moves in a faster rhythm, his other hand resting on your leg because he just needs to touch you. “Yeah? I'm going to cum,” he pants, “and you're going to show people how gorgeous you look covered on it.” 

You really don't know how much he loves the idea of that, how much he wants to show the world you let him ruin you, how you whisper “please, please,” as he finishes, head thrown back and your name escaping his lips on a moan, shooting white over your naked stomach.

But you can imagine, his victory smile gives him away. And the way he keeps complimenting you all the while grabbing his phone and snapping picture after picture just confirms it.

But you can judge Yoongi too harshly, it does something to you as well. It helps your confidence and a proud smile matches his as he tells you people are going to hate him if you really post this on your page. And that newfound confidence tells you is going to be the first time you click upload without second-guessing yourself.

[     afterhours(y/n):     Thank you for the birthday wishes!     I indeed got a nice present, don't you think?            [ picture ]                                                                          ]

[    SugaD:     Unbelievable 😻     Can we do something for my birthday too?                                                                                                                   ]

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri , @yoongibaybee ,

Thank you so much guys for your interest and support on this little series, I appreciate you 🥺💙

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part two | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Which joestar do you think would be the worst yandere? And why

Pick your poison! I like to think the Joestar’s all have their little traits that shine the most based on their personality (so whose the worst can depend on what you’re uncomfortable with). Going to do just the og verse jojo’s for this 1-6.

Jonathan : Very sweet almost intoxicatingly so, but he tends to end up a bit overprotective/just a bit babying. Insisting he does things for you, if you have some issue somewhere else? Why not let him resolve it. Don’t fret over too much he has the means to take care of you. There might be a time or two your room might be locked if you’re a little more stubborn than usual

Joseph: What is this thing called “personal space” ? It almost sounds like a foreign language to this man. He totally didn’t mess certain things up so you happen to meet up with him. Not sure why your date stood you up? He couldn’t possibly give an answer other than they’re not worth your time since they didn’t bother showing up. He should take you to this great place he loves going to after a long day.

Jotaro: Stalking type usually, and mows past anything that he might feel gets in the way of you and himself. He’s used to punks, so he’s not afraid to pummel someone if they don’t get the message to scram. When it comes to classes, he’s glancing at you every so often, maybe there’s a “doodle” or two in his notebook. Need to walk somewhere? He’ll walk with you. If you’re hiding out to be alone, he ends up finding you. You’re probably the reason he learns any building’s layout in the first place. Clubs or class cleaning doesn’t stop Jotaro either, he’ll wait as long as it takes. Being sick at home doesn’t stop him either, usually there’s some kind of hot soup/dish that’s good to eat while sick sitting in your room somehow. (Not to mention potential kidnapping later down the line if you’re not really cooperating)

Later Parts like 4 and 6, he’s pretty similar in dropping you off things even if you never once told him your address. (He has a decent memory of these things). Similarly Jotaro has any phone numbers you have in his contacts, and he’ll have a talk personally with anyone that he isn’t fond of approaching you. He tends to have you in the back of his mind while out on his studies, or writing a paper, and yet again drawings somewhere he’s compelled to place them. Every so often he checks in on you (whether you want this or not doesn’t matter). Broken down car? It’s either replaced swiftly or he’s driving you places himself. Maybe he somehow (forces) nudges you to live with him.

Josuke : He’s head over heels for you, and similar to Joseph he’s going to take any opportunity to squeeze himself into your life. He just so happens to have some leftover lunch from that place you like? You looked sad when they had sold out of your favorite meal there, so why doesn’t he help with that? Speaking of, maybe your eyes are drifting somewhere else. He steals any potential love letters to a crush and rewrites them, making it look like you’re confessing to him. He may also leave one of your favorite treats you like in its place. It’s an enigma to you how he found that out.

Giorno : He’s the don of the Italian mafia, he’s almost constantly worried about you. So if he has eyes on you, it’s almost immediate you lose autonomy whether born in Italy or a tourist. He’s clever in his ways to trap you, whether you’re resistant or not doesn’t matter. (he does think you’re cute with a strong head on your shoulders). There’s some of that charisma he possess all the same just like his father. Even if it doesn’t work on you, it makes others around you to trap you easily. Giorno likes to think he gives you a lot of leeway with voluntarily coming to him. He’ll meet you casually in coffee shops or wherever you’re willing to shop at. The bill is covered without you having to say a word. Any cash you used is miraculously brought back to you somehow. The blond isn’t afraid to get his hands a little dirty however when it comes to you. If he has to take something for you to step into his arms (whether it’s your ability to walk around outside or someone close to you) he’ll do whatever it takes.

Jolyne : Sure she stalks somewhat, but like her father she can be bold in taking care of the competition. She’s not afraid to hold your hand or finding a way for you two to do so. Eavesdropping is something she does occasionally, and anyone that wants to stomp on your heart is going to get stomped themselves. She does delay you with stone free (or outright captures you) if Jolyne doesn’t want you to leave. It’s impossible to shake her off, no matter what you try to do. Of course she made a copy of your apartment key, what if there’s an emergency? Maybe she wanted to make you breakfast. Huh? What do you mean she can’t just walk in unannounced? Don’t be ridiculous.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

begging anyone for Vi x reader x Ellie

ANYTHING.

PUH LUH EASE

WUH LUH WUH

i’ve got you bestie you just might wanna have that therapist on speed dial, okay? soz… 🫣

death doesn’t discriminate

Vi x reader x Ellie

Summary: you were never jackson’s best fighter, you never had to be. you were of course taught the basics of self defense, and if you ever were being attacked and it was between you or them it had to be you… every single time. you just never expected to ever have to put those skills to use… unfortunately though whenever patrol goes awry and you encountered a group of bandits you had to, making your very first kill. obviously after the event you’re left traumatized, and its up to your girlfriends to pull you from the aftermath.

Contains/TW: takes place in the tlou-verse with arcane crossover characters because obviously, innocent and super sheltered reader, i’ve seen the discourse but i AM making it to where ellie CAN pick the reader up (because fuck you that’s why! 💜), told in 1st person, polyamory, set in jackson post-joel death HOWEVER obviously ellie didn’t decide to hunt down ms. girl again. mentions of murder, blood, and just gore in general and HEAVY implications of suicidal ideation. ((this is not meant to romanticize suicide in any way, i’m writing from my own personal experiences. if you or someone you know is struggling please get help. you are loved 💜)) Heavily based off of the song listed below including its lyrics that are obviously not my own creation but def wish they were 💔

WC: 2.2k

You think at some point you would grow used to death, it was always leering. Either a subtle shadow hanging by the back door or growing to overtake the whole compound. In some cases it was merciful, swiftly ending your pain through broken pleas or just pure exhaustion. But in other cases, and the ones I found to be most common, it was known to be rather violent.

I was surprised I even remembered what to do whenever the time came. A dreaded audition it felt like as I slowly trailed Ellie’s gaze to the switchblade in my back pocket, the cold press of a gun against my temple. I don’t think I even processed what had happened until I was backing away, staring at the dead body before me and the still warm blood now coating my hands. My breathing came out in startled gasps, shrieking in traumatized fear the moment I felt her arms wrapping around me from behind.

“It’s me, baby, it’s just me.” She whispered, taking me into her soothing arms even though I tried like hell to fight her off at first leaving streaks of blood in the shape of my hands against her shirt. She only held my trembling body to her chest as I tried to hold back the sobs.

‘You made one kill. Everyone here has at least made one kill. It shouldn’t affect you this much. You’ve lived your whole life letting other people do the dirty work for you, you should be able to make one kill. One measly little kill of a man who would’ve killed you had you not acted so fast.’ I guess I was the only one left who didn’t think the world was that black and white though.

~

I felt catatonic as we made our way back to Jackson, Ellie’s arms holding most of my weight. I half wanted her to leave me there, leave me there to bleed and be ravaged by whatever found me first. She never would though, even if it did mean she’d have less deadweight.

Vi never was a fan of the two of us going out on patrol without her. She always considered herself our guard dog, even over Ellie who could no doubt hold her own at this point. Many nights we still spent dozing off against her while she whispered to us that we were ‘her girls.’

“Vi, emergency.” I heard Ellie speak, my head a dull weight against her chest as she carried me through the front door.

“This is the last time the two of you go on patrol without me, I mean it this time, Els.” I heard her seething as her heavy boots nearly shook the whole house. “Is she hurt? Are you hurt? What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine but she… she had to-” Ellie held the words back, not wanting to speak them in front of me as I felt my body being placed on one of the old ratty recliners. Dead eyes staring forward, like every ounce of light had been winked out a long time ago.

Vi’s own soft blue eyes drifted downwards to the dry blood coating my still shaking hands, the quickest moment of understanding filling her expression. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” She murmured, the sentiment enough to bring forth a cascade of tears that I had been holding back until we were safely concealed in the walls again. “You did good though, doll, I need you to know that. You did amazing. Remember what we said, if it’s them or you it has to be you every single damn time.”

I sniffled through the ugly sobs with a shake of my head, I disagreed though I suppose I would always disagree. “She should’ve left me out there.” I finally spoke again after I had what felt like the inability to.

Quickly and without hesitation I could feel Ellie’s hand wrapping around my chin, gentle but firm as she turned my head to face her. “No, you aren’t allowed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” I shook my hand, eyes stinging and burning with tears as I watched her kneel in front of me with what looked like a wet washcloth.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” She didn’t answer me, carefully dabbing at my bloodied hands to wash all of the evidence away. Even though part of me wanted it to stay, tattoo the remnants of blood on my hands until I remembered who I was.

“Tell me why you shouldn’t have left me.” My voice shook as I repeated the question. Push until they finally said the truth. Push until they finally agreed to throw me to the wolves. Push and push and push… “I’ve been nothing but deadweight since I got here.”

“No.” Vi almost growled next, wrapping her own larger hand around my chin this time while I only stared back in defiance. “You are not deadweight, you are valuable and needed and- and we need you alive! I need you alive!”

“Darling, you don’t have to be a fighter to be important.” Ellie spoke next, much gentler than Vi had but still stern nonetheless.

It was hard to find a purpose to live in the apocalypse, I wasn’t sure where everyone found one. I knew Ellie had always had some terrible sense of self importance with the immunity. I guess over the years she had tried her hardest to transfer that to me. Some days it worked. Some days were good, amazing even. Gentle and soft days where I could dream about a world before the infection. A world I’m not sure I or Ellie ever remembered. Some days though, days like today, being reminded of that thought really changed things.

Vi had always been an ‘alive out of spite’ kind of person. Then one day Ellie and I rolled up into Jackson and turned her world upside down and shifted things for the better… that’s how she would tell it at least. She was slightly older, tougher, rough around the edges, but deep down I think she was secretly just lonely. She took us underneath her wing just as quickly as we arrived, all too happy to open her doors for us and things grew and built from there. But no amount of love or care I was given from the two was enough to cover up the fact, if I went outside of the walls something disastrous always managed to happen.

I was just simply deadweight. A bad luck charm if you will. These things never ended well.

“Baby, you’ve just had a bad day.” Vi shook her head as she took my own into her calloused hands. “That’s all it is, my love. We’re in the times of survival now, it’s kill or be killed and… I’m not losing either of you.”

I choked on another pathetic sob, hating myself more and more for every single one. Nevertheless though Vi pulled me into her, muffling the sounds of my cries into her shirt. Traumatized and shaking cries that I rarely actually allowed myself the luxury of, so whenever they came, they came all at once.

~

I fell asleep early that night. Vi running Ellie and I a bath to wash all of the dirt and grime from the disasterous patrol from our bodies. At some point I lost the strength to cry, but I felt like I had lost the strength to do most things. At some point over my sleeping body I had heard Ellie whispering to Vi though, to hide all of the guns, knives, switchblades, anything that could ever be used as a weapon. A mental patient in the middle of the apocalypse. Oh the irony.

“You think she would actually do something to herself?” Vi whispered in her hushed tone while Ellie gnawed anxiously at her already chipped nails.

“Yeah, I do.” She answered with a shuddering breath. “This is worse than Seattle and I- I already thought I was gonna lose her then- Vi, I’m not taking anymore chances.”

“Hey, listen, we’ll take care of her, okay? We’ve got her. We always do.”

“I hope so.” I could hear the rustling of clothes, no doubt an embrace she probably needed. An embrace they probably both needed. And I hated that I was the one who brought them there.

A moment passed and I had nearly managed to doze off again somehow in in the midst of it all just before I could feel the bed slightly dipping behind me. “Just me, you’re safe.” Ellie warned, waiting on my already exhausted muscles to relax before she slid her arms around me from behind. “I need to talk to you, okay?” She whispered against the back of my neck, my heavy eyelids fluttering open for a brief moment. “It’s okay, you can close your eyes. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to just… just listen, okay?”

Her fingers gently stroked soothing lines along with arms, the sensation only making my eyelids want to droop even further. “I’ve always had a- a really strong urge to protect you, Vi and I both have. A-And I think you know that. So if you wouldn’t have killed that man I wouldn’t have hesitated. He doomed himself. The moment he laid a goddamn finger on you he doomed himself. And Vi would’ve done the same thing and I think you know that too. Hell, he wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to if Vi was there.” Her fingers slid through my own, a soft yet possessive grasp.

“I know you think I gave up looking for Abby because you were reckless a-and you got hurt and you ruined things. And you were reckless, and you did get hurt but… you didn’t ruin things. You- You just changed things, for the better.” Her lips brushed against my neck, an innocent gesture though had me tilting my head to grant her more access all the same. “You saved me, baby.” She muttered, burrowing her face right into the crook of my neck as she pulled my back in closer to her chest. “I- I could’ve spent my whole life hunting that girl down, because- T-Tommy did ask me to, you know?” Her voice cracked, the feeling of small tears dripping onto my skin, a very simple way to get them to spring up into my own eyes all over again. Just whenever I thought I had been all cried out.

“You- You actually told him no?” My bottom lip quivered as I slowly twisted around to face her, just to feel her own calloused hand against my face. “But I thought you- you promised-“

“It’s not going to bring him back, love.” She shook her head, glancing downwards as if in mild shame. “But whenever you went after me in Seattle and- you got hurt…” she brushed her fingers along the jagged scar slashed into my arm that she was more or less cradling. “I know you were knocked out and you don’t remember a lot of it but… i-it really scared the fuck out of me, y-you know? Like I could lose you. I-I could really honestly lose you and… nothing is worth that, baby. Not a single thing is worth that.”

Tears swam in my eyes as she pressed her lips to the wet streaks that stained them. “You’re an angel, my love. An angel on this absolute fucked up planet and I-I pity every single person that doesn’t get to know you like Vi and I do, you know?” She briefly disconnected her hand from my face to brush away her own tears only to let it snake through my hair as she tugged me back into her chest. “You’re innocent, and you’re kind and you didn’t let any of this take it away and- I hope you never do, honestly.” I felt her chest sinking as she took in a heavy breath and held me to her almost for dear life. Like she was afraid I’d slip away the moment I let go. “No amount of self-sought fury will bring that back… I’ve tried. S-So please, I know it’s hard to find a purpose in this life but… please baby, please stay with me. With us.”

I curled up to her side, resting a heavy head right against where I could feel her heart thumping so softly. The other side of the bed dipped and while I might have flashed back to that moment briefly Ellie’s arms wrapped around me so protectively were enough to pull me back down to earth. At least for a moment.

“My girls.” Vi’s voice followed next, her arm nearly long enough to stretch over the both of us as she brought us close to her with ease. I felt my back pressing against her muscular chest as she settled down next to us, taking her usual trusty spot closest to the door as always.

It was hard to promise survival during the end of the world, even safe within the walls of a community. But for that night I at least promised I wouldn’t do it on my own accord. Someday, somewhere, something would kill me, but it wouldn’t be at my own hand.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence.

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Also, I would like to add that Malleus’s blatant disregard for the autonomy of others and fits of rage is DELIBERATE on his end. Being one of the top five mages in the entire world, I am sure that he KNOWS there is a large disparity between his power/social and the rest of the peers/subordinates etc. His sheer and utter confidence in his abilities to get what he wants and general disregard for others isn’t only an indicator of his awareness about this disparity, but is also a reflection of the abuses of his power AND social status as a whole.

In light of his age, imagine the amount of times he has repeated these mistakes despite others advice and criticisms against his choices. Only Ace has been able to overcome others general reverence and fear towards Malleus when it came to calling him out. He is not an innocent person who is ignorant about the ways of humanity verses faes, and is certainly not the innocent character the fandom (especially those who are infatuated by him) think he is.

[Referencing this post!]

***Standard disclaimer: In sharing my thoughts, I do not mean to disparage Malleus fans. Furthermore, me disliking him should not detract from your own enjoyment of the character. If you do not feel comfortable reading about this topic (ie critique of Malleus’s character), then I encourage you to scroll on and to not engage with this post.***

My thoughts below the cut!

I do feel that, to some degree, the disregard for others and inappropriate fits of rage come from blatant ignorance (since Malleus did have a very isolated and sheltered upbringing). However, it's also hard for me to believe that in his 178 years of living that he was NOT told countless times by those around him (mostly Lilia and his grandmother, Maleficia) to wield his power and social status more tactfully than how he has. Did he take none of those lessons to heart??? What about the 2-3 years he spent living among the non-fae at NRC? Nothing from then too?? Regarding self-awareness of his strength and social status, Malleus has made it clear on more than one occasion that he stands above others. Right from his first appearance in the main story (in book 2), it's implied he's well aware of his position--so much so that he deliberately hides his identity from Yuu. He also cannot propose to Eliza in Ghost Marriage because he is the crown prince of a nation. Time and time again, Malleus's status is mentioned and it plays into his importance as the sole heir to Briar Valley. He must also know he is powerful, given that he is one of the top 5 strongest mages in the world and can perform incredible feats (like reassembling a stage and walking through Vil's poisonous miasma in book 5) like they're nothing. His grandmother and Lilia tell him the Draconias are powerful and shouldn’t use their magic to harm, but to help those they rule over. Yet he seems to have surprisingly few qualms when turning these powers against people who are only at a fraction of his power (Rook, his dorm mates, everyone in the Scalding Sands trip group, Ortho, etc.) or have no magic at all (remember when he attacked those civilians in Terror is Trending and the other Diasomnia students had to restrain him?). Malleus may be emotional in these moments, but the fact remains that he's making the deliberate, intentional choice to wield his magic in this way. He has the ability to hold himself back (as we see him refrain from fighting Rook in Malleus's PE Uniform vignette, only because he knows Rook is baiting him), but the vast majority of the time he fails to do this. For someone who is acutely aware of his power, you'd think he would... I don't know, keep a better leash on it? And what about his identity? So Malleus is concerned about Sebek insulting Leona (the prince of another country) but he ISN'T concerned about how his own fits of anger poorly reflect on himself, who is the CROWN PRINCE of a country??? Please make that make sense... Why is Malleus so selective 💀

I'm actually quite shocked at how little Malleus's pride and arrogance is pointed out; it's usually Leona who gets those labels even though Malleus is also just as arrogant, prideful, and confident in his own powers. Most of the time, I feel like I see Malleus being called "innocent". Maybe his negative traits on display get overlooked because TWST tries so hard to present Malleus to us as someone we are supposed to like (especially with how often they use his overpoweredness or loneliness is used as a punchline for jokes). Our interactions with Malleus are also so few and so short, particularly early in the main story, that fans project their own ideas about what he's like onto him and that forms a certain “image” of him that may not be the same as how he actually is. Him being lonely makes it easy for fans to perceive him as desperate for company and even easier for fans insert themselves as his “special” friend or S/O to fill the void.

It's... quite ironic, really? Malleus says in Riddle's Suitor Suit vignettes that he is familiar with the concept of "noblesse oblige", which is the implied duty of the privileged and nobility to act gracefully towards those less privileged. Yet... he is sometimes overstepping "fae playfulness" or "teenage childishness/immaturity" and continuously creating situations which put people around him in danger (all of Endless Halloween Night, not holding back his attacks against the Magicam Monsters, all the times he let his temper get out of control, book 7 OB, etc.) When defending the extremes he took in book 7 by citing his status and his UM, Malleus has this to say, which is very telling of his lucidity: "Monitoring? Meddling? Heh, how silly. It's a king's duty to govern, is it not? I'm watching over you. To ensure no nightmares befall you in the fairy tales you now reside in... To ensure you have happy dreams that last forever!" It's implied that Malleus's grandma has told him since childhood that their line has powerful magic to protect their people's smiles--and here he is, overextending those words to people that aren't even his subjects, and twisting the meaning to justify his own brutal rule.

What I noticed is... Malleus is often so oriented on seeing the situation from his POV that he fails to consider those from any entity aside from himself. In Endless Halloween Night, he feels sorry for the ghosts who showed up late and were left out of the festivities because he can relate to them, so therefore he wants to make sure they are included. In book 7, Malleus fears his loved ones leaving and projects this fear onto everyone else so he feels right in being the one coming in to be their "hero" and grant them happy endings they never asked for. In his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, Malleus frames the circumstances as, "I wouldn't be mad if you did the same thing to me" instead of listening to his peers' complaints. He centers problems around himself (which admittedly is very frustrating to me), and this is how Malleus tries to understand and navigate the world. This gives me the impression that he has a very particular way of thinking and it's perhaps difficult for him to understand others, even with extensive pointers.

I truly believe Malleus is ignorant about humans and fae. That much matches up with what we know of his history. What I do NOT get is why he continues to remain ignorant when 1) he has spent a few years exposed to non-fae and their ways; even if this pales in comparison to the 175ish other years of his life, he should have some new basis for appropriate social interactions with other races, and 2) major adult figures in his life are telling him he should consider others' perspectives and try to learn more about that which he is unfamiliar with. Malleus has so many opportunities to expand his horizons and get to know new people, but he seems to sit around and keep waiting for others take the initiative for him. But he could initiate too, so why doesn't he???? (He has shown he is capable of it, as he approaches Deuce to fix his virtual pet and chatting with Idia about the same pet in the main story; if not by himself, then Lilia can easily assist or invite him into activities such as the Silk City trip.) Even if Malleus fails to socialize in a way that's considered appropriate, at least that's something he can learn from and correct for next time... But why doesn’t he????????? If he did, it would sure help out with his inability to empathize with his peers and could even curb his temper (which would be seen as socially inappropriate). So why exactly does he seem to know so little and make so little effort to try and rectify this???? Why does he keep postulating that his word is above everyone else’s and then get upset when people don’t like him for this very alienating attitude? Aaaaah, it's a sad cycle to witness him devolve into again and again... 😭

P. S. Bless Ace for being the one character who still held it against Malleus for the fucked up “prank” he pulled in Endless Halloween Night (and then convincing everyone the misunderstanding was their faults for “attacking the ghosts first”).

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 3

This was a collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs!

Summary: Eddie knows he hasn’t gone about things as he should have, so he’s determined to make things better—for everyone. You can read part two here.

Note: Thank you everyone for your kind words and hilarious messages! Seeing what you all have to say about this series truly makes my day.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, spanking, oral f!receiving, I think that’s it?

Words: 10.8k

[All stories in this verse]

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as—”

BZZZT!

The apartment buzzer rings, startling you from your When Harry Met Sally trance. You’d nearly dropped your bowl of cookie dough ice cream. 

“I’ll answer it,” your roommate calls out, padding across the living room. You muster up a smile as a silent thanks; you just don’t have the mental energy to face another human being right now. 

“Who is it?” Jess asks, speaking into the intercom on the wall. 

“It’s me. Um, it’s Eddie.” His voice makes your stomach drop into your feet as you violently shake your head no. You’d filled Jess in on what had happened over the weekend, and she certainly wasn’t on Eddie’s side. 

Sure enough, a scowl crosses her face. “Why don’t you fuck off, Eddie?” she sneers. 

“Yeah, so, I’ll do that,” he mumbles, “but I just need to drop something off. Please.” He sounds so pathetic. Good. 

Jess looks over at you for your reaction. “I don’t want anything from him,” you mutter, snuggling deeper into your fuzzy blanket. “Tell him to go away.”

She nods, pressing on the intercom again. “Denied.” She starts to walk away, but Eddie’s pleas stop her in her tracks. 

“Look, I know I fucked up big time. And I’m so sorry. I never should have dragged her into this; gotten her caught up in my bullshit. I was…I was a coward, okay? A goddamn coward. But I’m done avoiding fixing my mistakes. Because when I tried to run from my problems, I hurt the best girl I know. And I want—need her to know that I’ll prove how much she means to me, if she’ll let me.”

Jess turns to you, her eyes wide and slightly misty, obviously moved by Eddie’s words. She puts her hand over her heart and inclines her head towards you, silently asking if you’ve changed your mind. And it’s tempting. How many times did you fantasize about Eddie making some big dramatic declaration about how much he cares for you? But you’re scared. Scared this is some sort of false hope. That you’ll let yourself be ensnared by his spell and let yourself get hurt again and again. You’ve never had fear like this before and it’s as if your body and mind just want to shut down.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I-I don’t want to see him.” 

Now Jess goes from moved to annoyed. She plants her hands on her hips and takes a few steps closer to where you’re curled up on the old floral couch. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve listened to you sing the praises of this man for a year now. How sweet and kind and wonderful he is. Listened to you say over and over again how much you love him and how if you had him, you’d never take him for granted like his crazy bitch of a wife does.” She flings her hand toward the front door. “Well? He’s here. Trying to apologize for what he’s put you through. You even said yourself when you came home crying the other day that you know he cares about you. So why don’t you at least hear him out?” 

“I don’t want to see him,” you say in a small voice. Sniffling, you shrug your shoulders. “You’ve never seen his eyes.” You shake your head, gaze dropping to your lap. “He has this puppy dog look about him and I know if I see it, I’ll cave no matter what he says.”

“So, go in your room,” Jess says. “I’ll let him up, drop whatever he wants to drop off, let him say his peace. And you can just listen.”

Heaving a sigh, you snatch up the remote and press the pause button. Tossing the blanket from your lap, you stand and make the few steps into your room and shut the door. Jess scurries back over to the intercom, hoping he hasn’t left yet.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah! Yeah, still here.” The hope is clear in his voice as he realizes he hasn’t been ignored completely. 

“Come on up.”

Eddie wastes no time, pulling the door open as soon as Jess presses the button, taking the stairs two at a time and making his way to apartment 217. The sound of his knuckles rapping on the door reaches you in your bedroom and you wrap your arms around your body, mentally preparing yourself to listen to what he has to say. 

“She’s in her room,” you hear Jess tell him. “You can talk through the door. And what have you got to drop off?”

There’s silence except for Eddie’s footsteps and the curiosity of what he’s brought burns in your brain. As his footsteps come right up to the other side of your door, there’s a buzzing in your stomach.

“C-Can you hear me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. Just the sound of his voice so near has you longing to throw the door open and jump into his arms. You’ve never felt as safe in your life as you did when he was hugging you. 

“I, um.” Eddie clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, sweethea—I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. What are you…” Eddie trails off and your eyebrows pinch in concern. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jess says, loudly enough that you know she’s standing next to Eddie. “But you should read this.” There’s a slide against the hardwood of your floor and you look down to see a little white rectangle slip under your door. It’s a business card, you realize as you pick it up. 

Carl Hampton, Esquire

Divorce Attorney

“Turn it over,” Jess says. 

It’s not enough for you to be mine, so I’m taking the first step towards being yours - Eddie

The tears start immediately. Even as you read the note in Eddie’s scrawling handwriting over and over again, your vision goes a little bit blurrier each time. Your hand trembles as you hold the card, the other going up to cover your mouth. Even though you think you’ve been quiet as your crying grows to sobs, you must be louder than you realize.

“Okay, she’s crying,” Eddie says, clearly talking to Jess. 

“Let me go in,” Jess says, but when she cracks the door open you catch sight of Eddie. He’s distorted and fuzzy through your tears, but you’d know that mass of curls anywhere. Jess has just enough time to jump out of the way as you launch yourself into his arms, not sure if this means you forgive him or not, but just knowing you need to be held by him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says as he clutches you against his body. “Shhh, it’s okay.” One of his arms is wrapped securely around your waist while his hand on the other comes up to smooth over your hair. “You’re okay.”

Jess sidesteps the two of you embracing, so she can head back into the living room; just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to hear everything. 

Eddie’s touch manages, as always, to calm you down. Something about his entire being makes you feel seen and understood. It’s been that way since day one with him. When you’ve calmed enough that you think you could talk without Jess acting as an interpreter, you pull away from Eddie and wipe your tear streaked face off on the sleeves of your sweatshirt. 

“Eddie, please don’t break up your family for me.”

“Baby,” he slips up with the pet name, but neither of you says anything. “I’m just doing what I should’ve done ages ago. I never should have put you in this position.” Eddie aches to bring his hands up to your face, but he doesn’t want to overstep what you’re comfortable with. It’s killing him to see you visibly upset, knowing he caused it, and just holding you wouldn’t solve anything. 

You nod your head at his words. Some of the pain is starting to ease and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in days. You’d told Eddie you just wanted to see him doing something; taking a step in the right direction. And this was a pretty damn good step to take. “You’ve called this guy?”

“No, I didn’t call him. I spent all morning at his office,” Eddie says, and your head snaps up to meet his eyes. “I’ve done everything I have to for the process to begin. Now they work on whatever legal bullshit they’ve got to do, I guess.”

But there’s something else that’s been eating at you. Yes, Eddie should’ve divorced Brittany a long time ago. But now that he’s finally doing it, does he really want to jump from one relationship to another? “Are you sure you want this? You don’t want to stay single for a while? Because I’ll under—”

Eddie caves and brings his hands up to your face, leaning in to press his lips firmly against yours, trying to convey all the love and fondness he can through one kiss. 

“I love you,” Eddie says once he’s pulled away. “And you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel it, but I needed to tell you. I fucking love you.”

There’s never been so much confusion in your heart before. Eddie loves you. The thought can’t seem to sink in. Eddie loves me. You know wholeheartedly that you reciprocate the feeling. You’ve known that you love him for a long time. But there’s still so much fear. It’s dampening the excitement of his declaration.

“I—I’m afraid,” you murmur, eyes unable to meet his. 

Eddie frowns, taking your chin in his hand and tilting it slightly upwards. “Am I that mean and scary?” There’s some humor behind his words, but they’re tinged with concern. 

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m afraid that if I say it back and it—it makes it real, it’ll hurt even more if…” You can’t even finish the sentence without choking up. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie presses his lips to yours. “It’s okay. I get it. Baby, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, too. I mean, an old man like me getting involved with a total knockout like you? Beauty and brains?” He chuckles. “Let’s face it, pretty girl. I have a lot more to lose than you do.”

“I…I…” you hesitate, trying to muster up an ounce of courage. “I can’t do this, Eddie.” You gently press the business card back into his palm. “I can’t be in love with someone who’s married.” Your eyes widen as you come to a realization that makes you sick. “The boys…they’ll know I’m the reason that their parents split up.” You imagine their sweet, innocent faces blotchy with tears as they tell you they hate you. 

Eddie’s posture goes tense, and he almost sounds angry as he says, “Absolutely not. You gave me the courage to file, but my marriage was over long before this.” Your lips brush together in a series of chaste kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He rests his nose on yours; the saltiness of his own tears mixing with yours as they seep into your tongue. 

“I think we need to wait,” you blurt out, words tumbling from your mouth before you can think them through. “Until Brittany knows that you’ve filed, and you’ve talked about it with the kids.” It’s painful to push him away, but it’ll hurt worse if you continue this and he decides not to follow through with the divorce. 

Eddie looks crushed, like he was hoping to sweep you off your feet and make love to you right then and there. “Right, yeah. That makes sense.” He sniffles, trying to will away the sting of your rejection. “When that happens, we can finally be together?”

“If that’s what we both want.”

“Baby, I’ll never stop wanting you.” He’s so tempted to pull you into him and leave harsh, bruising kisses down your jawline, claiming you as his. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You just nod, twiddling your thumbs to keep yourself from intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you still want me to watch the boys?” you ask shyly, cheeks burning at the ridiculousness of the question. “Because I get it if—”

“If it’s okay with you. We’d—they’d—really miss you if you just up and left.” I’d miss you most of all, he thinks, but keeps it buttoned up inside. 

“Yeah,” you concede, stepping back towards your bed. “I’ll see you all later, then.”

You’re about to close the door when you hear him say, “Wait.” He steps closer to you, business card between his pointer and middle fingers. “Hold onto this f’me, please?”

You initially hesitate before accepting the card again. “Okay.”

“Never want you to forget how I feel about you,” Eddie says, placing one last kiss on your cheek before he’s out the door, leaving you in a spiral of your own racing thoughts. 

As soon as Jess hears his footsteps disappear down the hall, she’s in your room. “I don’t normally tell you what to do,” she murmurs, rubbing small circles on your back, “but if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

You give her a playful nudge as you rest your head on her shoulder. “He’s gotta get un-married first,” you remind her—and yourself—bitterly. 

After the conversation you had with Eddie earlier in the day, you’re a little worried things will be awkward when you pick Luke and Ryan up from school. But thankfully, they’re the same happy kids you know and love, and not a thing is different with them. It’s almost time for Eddie to come home when the three of you are finishing up a game of Candyland. Luke kept getting caught in the Molasses Swamp, so he huffs as you enlist their help in cleaning up the board and pieces. When the little boy stomps down the hall to put the game away, Ryan looks up at you. You give him a smile and his gaze shifts back to his lap. He glances back up at you and the unusual behavior makes you frown.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask.

“Why were you sad?” he asks, voice soft.

Frowning, you move some hair off of his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“On Saturday. You were talking with Daddy and then you got really sad and left. You didn’t even come say hi.” His sad brown eyes look so much like his father’s that it brings you back to when Eddie gave you the same look this morning. 

“I didn’t know you saw me.” You pause, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. You’re not sure if Eddie had already said anything about it or not and you don’t want to contradict any explanation he might have given the kids. “Um, well, I was having a bad day. Do you ever have a day where you just don’t feel very happy?” Ryan nods. “That’s what it was. And I didn’t want to make you or Luke sad too, so that’s why I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, nodding his head. “Are you still sad?”

“Not as much,” you tell him truthfully. “Just a little.”

His little hand comes over and takes yours. “I don’t want you to be sad. You know what Daddy tells me when I get sad? That he loves me. And I love you. So, I’m telling you that.”

The smile that comes to your face is reflexive. Ryan is such a sweet boy, and you can’t imagine what your life would be like without him. You lean in and press a kiss to his hair, mumbling against it. “Seems to be a trend with the Munson boys today.”

“What?” Ryan asks.

“I love you, too,” you tell him, squeezing his hand gently. “You made me feel better.”

“Good!” A smile lights up his face and you wonder how this kid became so sweet despite having a mother like he does. Then the obvious answer hits you: Eddie’s his dad. Sweet, kind, means-well-but-sometimes-fucks-it-up Eddie.

You’re jostled from your thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock. Eddie hustles in, giving you a small smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, waiting for your response to see how he should proceed. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coveralls.

“Hi.” You stand up and return his smile. “The boys were great today, as always.” You rest your palm on Ryan’s shoulder as he gives his dad a grin, showing off the gaps where his missing teeth are.

“We played Candyland, and I won,” he proudly reports. “And then I used your cheer-up trick! You know, when you tell someone you love that you love them.”

“Oh?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Luke was that upset about losing?”

You shake your head. “No–well, yes,” you chuckle softly. “But he was talking about me. He saw that I was sad on Saturday and wanted to make me feel better.”

A wider smile spreads across Eddie’s face. “You’re a thoughtful kid, you know that?” he tells his oldest son, who doesn’t quite understand the concept of rhetorical questions.

“I know.” His candid demeanor makes you and Eddie laugh, and Ryan sprints to his brother’s room to announce that their dad is home.

You reach for your jacket, eager to leave before you’re tempted to talk to Eddie. Because you know precisely where that will lead.

“Hey, um,” Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out more bills than usual from his wallet. “I’m gonna tell her tonight. Figured that’d go over better than just having her served.” He hands you your salary plus two extra twenties. “Could you take the boys out for dinner? Could just be McDonald’s or somethin’.”

You swallow thickly as you accept the money. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer, “how long will you need?”

“Give us an hour?” he shrugs. “Don’t think it’ll take that long; she’ll probably yell for a few minutes and then leave. But just in case she decides to stick around and scream for a while.” His chocolate brown eyes meet yours, making you shiver. “Thank you, baby–I mean, thank you. For, um, for everything.”

“Of course,” you nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before you say, “I’ll go tell Luke and Ryan. They’ll probably be excited to have a Happy Meal.”

Eddie bites his lower lip as he watches you walk away. It’s going to be the hardest conversation of his life, but knowing it’ll bring you back to him makes it worth it.

Brittany comes home after you’ve already left with the kids, thankfully. Eddie’s waiting at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of him and knee bouncing up and down in nervousness. Brittany hangs up her coat and pauses as she passes the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as she sees her husband sitting there. 

“Um, hi?” she says.

“Hi, um.” Eddie kicks out the seat across from him at the table. “Can you sit? I need to talk to you about something.”

To his complete shock, she complies. “Where are the boys?”

“Uh, out to dinner. I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

“Okay.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest before her face contorts in a sneer. “Wait. Is that little whore pregnant?”

Eddie bangs his palm against the table before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking call her that.” He takes a moment to compose himself, then a small smile creeps on his face as he thinks about the question. At the very thought of you having his baby.

“Holy shit, she is!” Brittany shouts.

“Oh, calm down!” Eddie rolls his eyes and motions for her to relax. “She’s not.”

“What’s with that dopey grin then, huh?” She spits the words at him, venom lacing every syllable. 

“Honestly? Cause the thought of her having my baby makes me really fucking happy. But that’s not—.”

“Ugh!” Brittany screeches. “What is wrong with you? I am your wife. Me! Remember? The one you promised yourself to?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, a hand slapping against his chest. “You’re actually serious? Really, Britt? You realize you’re the one who broke the vows first, remember? Years and years ago. So, you don’t get to act all high and mighty here.” Eddie licks over his lips, shaking his head. “You’re right, technically. You are my wife.” Not for long, he thinks to himself. “But we’ve been over a long time.”

“Just because you’ve decided it?” She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

“Because you stepped out and stopped giving a shit about me.” Eddie holds his hands up. “I’m getting off track. Listen, I saw a lawyer today.”

“Why?” she snaps.

“I filed for divorce.” No sugar coating it. No beating around the bush. This shitshow of a marriage has already taken up too much of Eddie’s time. “And don’t blame her for it, because all she did was give me the courage to do what I should’ve done ages ago.” His eyes are blazing. “You only kept me around so you could pretend to have this perfect little life: husband, kids, house in the suburbs. Or maybe because you get some sick pleasure from stringing me along while you sleep with half the town.” That last part is probably a step too far, but he doesn’t care.

Brittany scoffs incredulously. “Fine, Eddie. You two enjoy your Barbie Dreamhouse life together. The boys and I will manage without you.” She starts to stand up, but she’s drawn back by a loud guffaw from Eddie. “What?”

“Do you really think they’re gonna want to live with you? Do you even know what goddamn grade they’re in? What they want to be when they grow up?” He watches her face fall. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought. And you know the saddest part? They know it, too. They know that their own mother doesn’t give a shit about them.” He wipes a tear from his cheek. “I bet you know every last detail about your boyfriends, though. You and your fucked up priorities.”

Brittany’s expression turns from shock to rage. “Get. Out.” she seethes, gritting her teeth. “Go stay with your girlfriend, since you love her so much.” She’s crying, too, but because she’s losing the argument, not because she’s losing her husband.

“You’re gonna wake up with them and get them ready for school in the morning? Tell me; what do they eat for breakfast?” He laughs tersely at her silence. “That’s what I thought.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m staying here. For Ryan and Luke.” His voice softens slightly. “You can stay here, too, until we sort this shit out.”

Brittany doesn’t take him up on his offer; instead, she storms out of the room and into the bedroom. She starts tossing clothes into a duffel bag, zipping it up and tossing it over her shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow after they go to school to get the rest of my things.”

She slams the screen door behind her, and Eddie hears her car start up and peel out of the driveway. He allows himself to sob, mourning the life he’d once had. But he still has his boys; his incredible, gentle, loving sons. 

And if he plays his cards right, he has you, too.

Eddie finally drags himself from the kitchen table to the bathroom where he washes his face. It’s all red and splotchy from the crying, and the tears are sticky on his skin. As he’s toweling himself off, the bathroom light glints off his golden wedding ring, reflecting in the mirror above the sink. Eddie sets the soft towel down and stares at his left hand. He should be upset about taking it off, he thinks. But as he slips it off his finger all he feels is immense relief. It’s as if the ring weighed a ton and now without it, he feels light as a feather. Walking into his room, he pulls open his bedside table and drops the ring inside. He’ll have to think of something to do with it, but for now, it’s fine lying in the dusty old drawer. 

The front door opens, and two loud voices echo back to the master bedroom. Rubbing his hands over his face one last time, Eddie heads out to greet his family.

“Daddy!” Luke calls when he sees him. “Look! I got a race car toy!”

“Wow,” Eddie says, taking the small blue car from his son. He looks it over and nods his head appreciatively. “This looks like something I’d want to work on in the garage.”

Luke giggles and takes the toy back, happily going over to the coffee table which he pretends is a road for his new car to drive over. 

“Hi, Dad! Bye, Dad!” Ryan runs towards the bathroom, making Eddie chuckle.

“Wasn’t sure he was going to make it home,” you say. Eddie slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gives you a small smile. His eyes catch on the chocolate shake in your hands, and you hold it out to him. “Got you this. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he accepts the treat. 

“How’d it go?” you ask.

Eddie heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Pretty much how I expected it to. She left for the night—went God knows where. Says she’ll be back tomorrow for her things.”

As tense as things are between you and Eddie, you can’t help but step forward and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing over the thin material of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I can't imagine how hard it was for you.”

“The conversation? Yeah. Doing it? Nah. That wasn’t hard,” he says with a shrug. “How were the boys?”

You both know they were fine, but you take the hint that Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He lifts the shake to his mouth and your eyes catch on his hand. At the bare ring finger. The sight makes your tummy do a weird flip that you’re not sure how to interpret. 

“They—They were fine. Good,” you say. “I, um, I should go now. Jess is probably wondering where I am.” You grab your keys and head for the door. 

“Wait!” Eddie calls out, a bit louder than he’d meant to. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know that there’s no time limit on…on us. I mean, if it’s a definite no, I’ll shut up and leave you alone...”

“Eddie,” you smile, more genuinely than before. “You’ve never shut up before, and I don’t expect you to start now.”

“You know what I mean though, right?”

“I do,” you agree. “And I need time to think, but it’s…we’re not off the table.”

Eddie grins; he has to stop himself from picking you up and spinning you around in celebration. “I can live with that,” he says finally. 

“You’d better.”

Sure enough, Brittany comes back the next morning to pack more of her clothes. She briefly kisses Luke and Ryan hello, shooting a glare at Eddie that could kill.

“I’m giving you until Friday to move out,” she snarls once the boys are out of earshot. “We can figure out custody shit with the lawyer, but I think it’s best for them to be in the house for now. With me,” she adds pointedly.

Eddie sighs, exhausted from just the prospect of arguing. “Fine,” he concedes, “but just because I’m moving out doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight like hell for them.” He zips up his coveralls and calls out for the kids to put their shoes on before they miss the bus.

“Whatever, Eddie,” Brittany rolls her eyes, slipping on her blazer and her nametag. “You know they won’t take kids from their mom. You’ll just get every other weekend like the rest of the loser dads.” 

Eddie takes the week to pack up his things, a pit in his stomach as he gets to the photos on his nightstand. The one of him and Brittany can go in the trash, but his heart pangs at the framed picture of his boys. The thought of waking up in the morning without them right down the hall is enough to make him cry.

“No,” he tells himself, “I’m gonna get custody of them. Full custody.” He can picture a new little home with you, Luke, and Ryan. And maybe another baby Munson or two, if you’re willing.

He makes plans with Steve to stay with him and his family, but on Friday morning, an exasperated phone call thwarts his plans.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve coughs into the phone, and Eddie winces when he hears how sick his friend sounds. “The whole Harrington bunch has the flu. It’s like an infirmary here.” He laughs softly, resulting in another round of hacking coughs. “I don’t think we’re quite up for visitors right now. I’m sorry, man.”

“S’okay,” Eddie grumbles. “Feel better.” He doesn’t have time to figure out new plans before he has to get to work, so he’ll just have to brainstorm through his oil changes today. 

When you pick the kids up from school that afternoon, you immediately notice how quiet both boys are—especially Ryan. You’re almost positive you know the reason why, but you debate with yourself the whole ride back to the house if you should say anything. 

Luke seems to be in a better mood once he gets a snack in him. He sits on the couch, little legs tucked up underneath his body as he munches on graham crackers and watches Scooby Doo. Ryan is still noticeably glum though, sitting at the kitchen table, his finger tracing random patterns on the green tabletop. 

“Hey,” you say, taking the seat next to him. There’s no way you can just stand by and see this sweet boy feel so lousy. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If something is bothering you or is on your mind. Anything.”

Ryan nods his head, and you think he’s going to stay silent. But after a few moments he lifts his head up towards you, his large brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want to live here with Mom.”

It’s not what you expected to come out of his mouth. Any variation of “mom and daddy are breaking up” is what you thought you were going to hear. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Ryan sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Any other time you’d correct him for it, but the least you could do is let it pass. 

“Daddy said Mom is staying here and Luke and I can’t come with him yet. He’s going to stay with Uncle Steve and it’s not fair because I know they have a big house and I’m little enough to share a room with Daddy. But he said me or Luke can’t.” 

Releasing a sigh, you wrap your arm around Ryan’s shoulders. It’s times like these where you don’t feel like the adult you legally have been for years. When you were a kid you thought adults always knew the right thing to say. Now you know that’s bullshit. 

“Oh, Ryan.” You press a kiss to the top of his head. “You know Daddy would give anything to have you both with him, don’t you? You know how much he loves you.”

“More than Mom does,” Ryan says matter-of-factly. It breaks your heart that he knows that at only seven years old. And you can’t bring yourself to lie to the boy by refuting the claim. 

“Daddy loves you so much,” you reiterate. “And I love you.”

“Hey,” Ryan says with a small smile. “You used Daddy’s trick, too.” 

“Look at that,” you say. “And I didn’t even mean to. I was just telling you the truth about how much I love you.” You pull him into a hug, and he climbs in your lap. The only other time he’s done this before was when he was sick, so you know he desperately needs the comfort. “Hey, I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.” Cradling him against your body, you rest your head on top of his. 

By the time Eddie gets home, both of the boys are crashed on the couch with you, one tucked on either side as Toy Story plays on the television. Their father looks wrung out as he steps inside, bags under his eyes and exhaustion worn into lines on his face. Both boys jump up and run to him like normal, but the way they cling to him this time is more desperate and needy. It brings a stinging pressure behind your eyes, and you have to blink it away.

“Hey!” Eddie says, attempting to be cheerful for them. “There’s my boys! How was your day?”

“Okay,” Ryan says at the same time that Luke shrugs. Eddie kisses both of their heads before unzipping his coveralls and giving you a small, weary smile. 

You’re not sure why, but you get the urge to stand up and follow Eddie down the hallway. He raises an eyebrow when you follow him into his room. Your eyes take in the boxes around the cleared-out space before looking back to him.

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Hanging in there, I guess.” He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Gotta blow some cash on a hotel though ‘cause the Harrington clan got the flu.” 

You frown at that. The offer is on the tip of your tongue, but you take a moment to consider it. Is it a good idea? Sure, the tension has eased a bit between the two of you over the course of the week, but it’s still there. It’s not that you feel awkward around him, exactly, it’s more of a yearning that you’re trying to keep in check. But you still love him, and you don’t want to see him wasting his money or spending time all alone holed up in some hotel.

“Eddie, don’t do that. Save your money. Come stay with me.”

His jaw drops and a rough chuckle falls from his mouth. “Sweetheart—you, you don’t have to do this. Really, it’s fine.”

Taking a step closer, you grab one of Eddie’s hands in your own. “You’re about to be a single dad to two growing boys. And paying a lawyer to try and get custody. Come on, just stay with me.” 

Eddie sighs, your logic wearing him down. Finally, he nods his head and licks over his lips. “Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s okay,” you tell him. “As long as you’re not wearing your dirty coveralls, you’re more than welcome to sleep next to me.” 

He sticks his tongue out at you. “My coveralls don’t make the cut, but you’re fine after being around germ machines all day?”

“They’re your germ machines!” you remind him.

When Brittany gets home, she completely ignores you. “You can go now,” she says to her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “Is your stuff packed already?” Eddie nods, but she’s already walked past him. 

“Boys, come say goodbye to your dad!” Brittany calls out half-heartedly. Eddie cringes at the way it sounds: your dad. Not dad, the father of this family; now he’s an outsider in his own home. 

Ryan and Luke trudge out of their rooms. “Daddy,” Luke asks softly, “can you stay? Please? You can sleep in my room if you don’t want to be near Mom.”

Eddie blinks back tears. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “That’s real nice of you to offer, though.”

“I love you, Daddy.” Ryan throws his arms around his dad, squeezing him tight. “‘M gonna miss you.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie forces out a chuckle, “I’m moving out; I’m not dead.” He looks up at you, and you give him a small, encouraging smile. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and we can go to the park, yeah?”

“All of us?” asks Ryan. 

“Um,” Eddie clears his throat, “I don’t know if Mom will—”

“No,” Ryan shakes his head. “I meant…” He looks at you, and you’re taken aback. 

“I don’t want to interrupt your father-son bonding time,” you gently tease, trying not to overstep your bounds. 

“But we want you to come!” Luke protests, glancing at Ryan for confirmation, who nods. “You can play tag with us. Daddy’s too old.”

“Excuse me, sir!” Eddie gasps. “Could an old man do this?” He takes each boy in one arm and throws them over his shoulder. They’re giggling and kicking their feet; Luke narrowly misses Eddie’s groin. “Hey, be careful of the family jewels,” he warns, making them laugh even harder. 

When he sets them down, he looks them square in the eyes. “Tomorrow. Playground. The four of us. And I will kick your little butts in tag. Got it?”

“Got it!” the boys echo, giving him one last hug before going back to play. 

You turn to Eddie. “Y’okay?” you ask him, though it seems like a dumb question. 

“Getting there,” he admits, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder and managing a smile. “Let’s hit the road.”

Eddie throws his bag in his van and climbs in. He follows you as you drive to your apartment and pulls into the parking space next to you. When Eddie steps out of his van, you can tell he’d been crying on the drive over, but you can’t blame him one bit. 

Jess is sitting on the couch when the two of you walk in, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Pretty Woman playing on the television. Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, a few kernels of popcorn stuck between her fingers and her jaw hanging open.

“Hi, again,” Eddie says, giving her a sheepish smile. Jess raises her other hand in greeting, eyes darting over to look at you. 

“Yeah, we uh, we’ve got a house guest for now,” you say, cheeks getting warm. You gesture for Eddie to go ahead of you, into your room. Jess raises her eyebrows at you when you walk past, and you playfully swat at her before following in behind him. Closing the door, you lean against it as you watch Eddie drop his duffel onto your floor. 

“You hungry?” you ask. Eddie shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes. “Eddie, we have food. I can make something.”

“Don’t wanna put you out any more than I am,” he says, shrugging again. 

“So, what? You’re not going to eat the whole time you’re here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and walk over, tugging on the zipper of his leather jacket. “You’re also allowed to take your jacket off, ya know? We don’t make our guests sweat or starve themselves to death.”

“Such a good hostess,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. 

“Oh, come on.” You open your bedroom door and walk out to the kitchen, waiting as Eddie trails along behind you. Pursing your lips, you open the freezer and peer inside. “Should we have ice cream sundaes for dinner?”

“Oh, the boys would be so jealous.” Eddie chuckles and reaches in to grab the ice cream. You put two bowls down on the counter and Eddie starts scooping as you grab any toppings you can find. Whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate chips, cherries, and chocolate sauce. Eddie dips his finger in the chocolate sauce and puts a dot of it on your nose. He laughs when you go cross eyed trying to look at it. 

“Whipped cream, please,” you say, holding your hand out. The sound of the spout spraying out the airy cream meets your ears before you feel the cold stickiness hitting your palm. “I meant the can!”

Eddie’s smirk falls from his face as you lick the whipped topping from your hand, instantly realizing he walked right into you teasing him like that. It hadn’t been your intention to tease him though, and you feel your face warm up as you swallow the mouthful. Neither of you having eaten in hours, you inhale the sundaes, and Eddie manages to only get brain freeze once. You put the empty bowls in the sink to be washed later, and Eddie says he’s going to take a quick shower. As you grab a towel for him, you tease him about making sure he gets all the dirt from his coveralls off his body. He tugs on a strand of your hair before heading into the bathroom.

Even though it’s early, you change into your pajamas and get comfortable on your bed. You pull out your worn copy of Little Women and reread it for what must be the hundredth time. You’re so enraptured by Jo and Laurie’s banter that you don’t even hear the shower turn off. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie’s voice snaps you from your book. Your jaw nearly drops to the ground when you see him walk in, wearing nothing but the towel around his lithe waist. His curly hair is dripping wet, leaving little water droplets along his bare shoulders as he scrambles for his clothes. “Shit, ‘m sorry. Forgot my suitcase…”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, marking your page with an old receipt and closing the book. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Eddie blushes, and it’s simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. “Y-Yeah, but we’re not doing, um, that anymore, so…” He grabs a clean pair of boxers and plaid pajama pants. “I’ll just get changed in the bathroom.” 

He comes back without a shirt on, and you cock an eyebrow in amusement. “Forget something?” you ask, trying to play it cool and not salivate at the sight of his tattooed chest. 

“Oh, yeah…” he grins sheepishly. “I usually get too warm to sleep with a shirt, b-but I can put one on if you’d feel more comfortable.”

The ache between your legs tells you that something else has to happen to alleviate your discomfort, but you push away that thought. “Nah, I’d rather sleep next to a shirtless Eddie than a sweaty one.” But that’s bullshit; you’d sleep next to any version of him you could get. 

Eddie flips you off before climbing into bed. “Longest week of my life,” he mutters. His arm instinctively snakes around your waist; it isn’t until you move to flick off your lamp that he realizes. “Fuck, ‘m just so used to holding you.” He starts to pull away, but you hold his hand in place. 

“You can hold me…if you want to,” you murmur, sliding deeper under the covers. “Y’don’t have to.”

But Eddie’s already tugging your back to his chest. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” His voice is muffled, face nuzzled against your shoulder blade. “Oh, and don’t mind him if he’s excited in the morning. He has a mind of his own.”

You throw his words back at him. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A comfortable silence fills the air as you lay in his arms. He presses tiny kisses along your shoulders, making you shiver. 

“Eddie?” Your voice is so small that even you barely hear it. “Can I ask you something?” You adjust yourself so that you’re facing him, your nose touching his. His big hands fall to your thighs, and he rubs his thumb along them as he waits for you to elaborate. “The other day, when you said you love me…why?”

His face scrunches up in confusion. “Why did I say it? Or why do I love you?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he starts, bringing one palm up to cup your cheek, “I love you because you treat me and my boys with love, kindness, and respect. I love you because you make me smile on my worst days. Saying goodbye to Ryan and Luke tonight…I thought my heart was gonna break in half. But then you were there, and I knew everything would be all right. Maybe not right now, but it will be. You give me hope. And I haven’t felt that for a long time.” He offers you a little smile. “And I told you because you deserve to know how fucking loved you are.”

His confession leaves you breathless; it takes you a moment to process it all. “Eddie Munson, the fact that anyone made you question your worth…” you trail off, shaking your head. That isn’t what this is about. “You make me happy. I never knew that one person could be so kind, so thoughtful, so loving. And your boys…God, they’re just the best kids, all because of you. They see what a gentle, sensitive man you are, and they’re not afraid to show that side of themselves.”

“I’m actually very burly,” he pouts. “Dunno why you’re painting me as this big ol’ softy.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” you giggle. “You’re the toughest, grittiest guy I know. You could fight a kangaroo and win.” You feel his fingertips dig into your hips as he brings you even closer to him. “And those are just some of the reasons why…why I love you, Eddie.”

Even in the dim lighting of your darkened room you can see the way Eddie’s face lights up at your words. If your stomach wasn’t already a flurry from finally telling him how you feel, it would be from the sheer joy in his expression. 

“Say it again,” Eddie pleads, hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Please.”

“I love you, Eddie.” His smile is contagious as you mirror it, saying the words that have long been on your heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

It’s far from your first kiss, but as the two of you lean in towards one another, the electricity crackles in the air around you. There’s a giddiness and an earnesty when your lips touch that sends a shockwave through your body. It’s not your first kiss but it’s your first kiss since you’ve declared your love for one another. That makes it your favorite kiss of all. 

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, hand sliding down to your neck and his thumb brushing over your pulse point. Goosebumps break out on your skin beneath his touch, and he chuckles as he feels them against his fingertips. 

“Can’t believe you react that way because of me,” he says. “I feel like all of this is too good to be true.” 

You nod, your hand coming up to rest on top of his black widow tattoo, over his heart. “I know what you mean. I felt that way our first night.”

“Mm, but now,” Eddie says, pausing to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It’s just you and me and nothing has to be hidden. I can take you out, hold your hand in public, kiss you in front of whoever I want—with your permission, of course.”

“What about the boys?” Your hand comes up to play with the damp curls at the base of his neck. “What do we tell them? It might be confusing for them to go straight from ‘Daddy loves Mom’ to ‘Daddy loves our babysitter.’” 

“That wasn’t exactly how it happened,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle. “More like ‘Daddy stopped loving Mom a long time ago because she’s evil incarnate and then he met the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman who stole his heart.’”

“That might be a little tough for them to swallow,” you say, a playful smirk on your lips. 

“Well…” Eddie says, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. There’s a shy expression on his face and it’s so foreign to his features. “What are we, then? Like, how would you want to describe what we have?” 

It sounds like such a high school question, but it’s important to figure it out and make sure you’re both on the same page. Husband and wife? your brain thinks automatically. You feel like you’re going to have to constantly kick yourself in the ass to make sure you don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Well, you mentioned taking me out. Why don’t you ask me on a proper first date?”

“God, I haven’t done that since high school,” Eddie says.

“Didn’t they call it courting back then? You know, in the 1920’s?”

Eddie smirks and his hands instantly attach to your sides, tickling you until you’re a squealing, squirming mess below him. 

“Okay, so how about for our first date I take you to the bingo hall?” Eddie’s flat voice makes you giggle even harder. You drop your forehead to his shoulder and cuddle your body closer to his. 

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “M’not 21 yet. Can't gamble.”

“Or drink,” Eddie realizes, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, I’m dating a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

A blush comes to your cheeks as you laugh, deciding not to point out that there is in fact a Cabbage Patch doll sitting in the corner of your room. “So, we’re dating, huh?”

“I guess we will be once I think of a perfect place to take you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“And ask me,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows. 

“Right, right.” Eddie clears his throat. “Sweetheart, would you make me the happiest metal head this side of the Mississippi and accompany me on a date next Friday?”

Pursing your lips, you pretend to think his offer over. His eyes narrow at you as the silence stretches on.

“I would be honored, Edward.”

His nose wrinkles up at the formality of his full name. “Ugh, that sounds so snobby. Edward.”

“Hmm,” you tease. “How about Edwin? Edmund? Edgar?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oedipus?”

“Isn’t that the guy who fucked his mom and killed his dad?”

The rest of the night is like this; being silly and sneaking kisses as you cuddle up into each other. You feel so safe against Eddie’s chest, enveloped in his warmth. You start to drift off to sleep, but your rest is disrupted by his constant tossing and turning.

“Something on your mind?” You try to keep your voice light, but you can’t help the concern that seeps through.

Eddie slips his arm around your waist, thrumming his fingers along your hip. “Can’t stop thinking about my boys,” he murmurs. “I just wish they were here, too. Hate knowing that I won’t wake up in the morning to them fighting over Hot Wheels.”

You sigh, debating whether or not to tell him what you know. “I talked to Ryan today,” you begin, hoping you’re doing the right thing, “and he said that he wants to live with you. Not, um, her. He was sad that he and Luke had to stay in the house and not come with you.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s silent, processing what he’s just heard. “That makes me feel good, I guess. Too bad a judge won’t care.”

“What do you mean?” You prop yourself up on your elbow, facing him.

“She said that dads usually just get every other weekend, holidays, y’know,” he bites his lip nervously, and you kiss it to distract him. “I mean, I’m glad they don’t hate me, but it makes me sad that they’ll have to be with her if they don’t want to be.”

You shake your head. “Eddie, the boys–especially Ryan–are old enough that a judge will listen to what they want. And if they tell him or her that they’re more comfortable living with their dad, you might be able to get full custody.” He’s still quiet, so you press on. “I know you don’t want them being too involved in it, but it might be worth it if it means they get to be with you.”

Eddie caresses your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. “How do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Make me happy. Make me realize that everything will be okay.” He kisses your forehead lightly before yawning, finally able to relax. “I fuckin’ love you, baby. Sweet dreams.”

Waking up next to Eddie is the best feeling in the world. And he wasn’t lying about his morning…situation. You can feel his hard length pressing up against your thigh as he softly snores. You know you should probably wait until your first official date, but you haven’t stopped craving him since your last time together, back at the auto shop. Before you can stop yourself, you’re kissing his neck, the slight stubble that’s formed overnight scratching your cheek.

“Hey, sugar,” he murmurs sleepily. “What’s gotten into you, hm?”

“Missed you,” you manage, wrapping your leg around his so they’re intertwined. 

He chuckles, voice groggy and deeper than usual. “Missed me? ‘M right here.” His eyebrows shoot up when you reach down and gently graze his morning wood. “Oh, shit,” he hisses, “baby, if you touch me there…”

“I know,” you say between kisses. “I want you to. Please.”

Eddie’s fingertips dig into your side. “Y’know I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” he growls, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off. Before you can ask him for more, he’s diving beneath the sheets, bringing his lips to your inner thighs, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting.

“St-stop teasing me, Eds,” you whimper. He’s so fucking close to where you need him to be, yet too far away. You can see the outline of his head as he gives a little nod, plunging between your legs. He licks a stripe up your folds, breathing heavily as he tastes you.

“You’re fuckin’ delicious,” he says, words vibrating along your core. “Could eat this pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, shit.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, one hand fisting your sheet as Eddie’s tongue licks up another stripe. The other hand snakes its way into his messy curls, and he moans when you pull his hair.

 He brings his lips to your clit and sucks on it, grinning as he senses you writhing against him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he teases, slipping a finger inside your aching sex. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, trying not to buck up your hips, but your efforts are fruitless. Eddie’s on a mission to make you come as many times as he possibly can, and he’s making no attempt to hide it. You feel a second thick finger enter your pussy, stretching you slightly. His fingers pump in and out of you, his tongue keeping a relentless pace on your clit. The overstimulation from his mouth and hand pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name over and over as you finish.

Eddie throws the sheet over his head, grinning widely. His chin is covered in your slick, and he wears it proudly. “That’s one,” he announces. “Ready for another?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“Y’ask so nice for me, babe.” 

Blushing at his sweet words, you turn your head to hide your face in your pillow. Eddie tuts and gently tugs your chin until you’re looking up at him again. He chuckles at your shy look, leaning down to press slow kisses along your throat. 

“I love you, baby,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“I love you too, Eddie.” You feel his hips align with yours, and your jaw drops open at the pleasurable stretch as he begins to push inside of you. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans. “Missed your tight little pussy.” 

Your fingers clutch at his back, nails sure to leave some raised pink scratches by the time you’re done. “S’big,” you moan. “Don’t know if I can take it all.”

“You can,” he reassures you, going in deeper until he bottoms out. “You’re gonna take it all f’me. ‘M gonna fill you up s’good. Just please, gotta let me move, baby doll.” His eyes are pleading, desperate to rut up inside you.

“Can move, Eddie,” you say, nodding your head. The words have barely left your lips before he’s withdrawing, just to thrust back into you. A gasp leaves your lips as he fills you to the hilt again. It may have only been about a week since you’d slept together, but it felt like an eternity without having him inside of you. 

“Love you,” you say in between moans, and Eddie’s hips pick up the pace at your words.

“Love you, too. Fuck, baby, you keep saying that and this isn’t going to last as long as I want it to.” He huffs a breathy laugh and rests his forehead against yours. 

“That a challenge?” you ask with a smirk.

“Uh uh,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “M’gonna make you come over and over.” As if to prove his point, he slips two fingers into your mouth, putting pressure on your tongue. “Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby. I know what that pretty mouth can do.”

Slipping your eyes closed, you swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning around his thick digits. You open your eyes and meet Eddie’s dark gaze, his attention focused solely on your face as his hips keep snapping against yours. Once you release his fingers with a sharp pop, he brings them down to your clit, rubbing in a tight circle. 

A whine escapes your lips as you throw your head back, neck arching and exposed to the man above you. Eddie leans in and attaches his lips to the side of your throat, sucking and biting at the skin, determined to leave you with a mark that won’t fade any time soon. 

“Close, Eddie,” you say, hands coming up to tangle in his long curly locks again. 

“Come on, baby,” Eddie urges. “Gimme another one.” 

You do as he says, arching your back and wrapping your legs around the bottom of his ass and pulling him even deeper inside you. “‘M coming, all f’you.” He nods, slowing his pace slightly and allowing you to come down slightly.

“S’fucking beautiful when you come on my cock,” he muses. “Want one more from you. Can you handle that? Just one more?”

“One more,” you murmur, already fucked out from two back-to-back orgasms.

“Thas’ my good girl.” 

“C-Come with me this time?” you ask, voice hoarse. Tears prick at your eyes, and you wipe them away before he can notice.

“Aww,” Eddie coos, “did I wear my girl out?”

His taunting lights a fire inside you, and you smirk. “Actually, I want you deeper.”

“Fuck,” he throws his head back, withdrawing from you. He chuckles darkly when you hiss at the loss. “The faster you get on your hands and knees, the faster I can be back inside you.”

Muscles weak and protesting the movement, you force yourself to ignore it and do as Eddie says. His hands grab your hips, rough calloused fingers running over your smooth skin. 

“Mm, what a nice view,” Eddie admires as he removes one hand from your body to line his cock up with your hole. He teases you, sliding his length up and down your slit as you drop your head forward. Your whines only encourage him as he watches your hole flutter around nothing. 

“Please, Eddie,” you beg. 

“Anything for my needy girl,” Eddie says, and you don’t need to be looking at him to know there’s a smirk on his face. He slides back inside of you and your arms give out, upper body landing on your pillow. Your fingers scratch at your purple pillowcase as he slams into you. The repeated motion of his hips has the headboard banging against the wall and his heavy balls slapping against your clit. 

“Fuck, baby,” you breathe out. “So deep. So, so deep.”

“Tell me how it feels, princess. How’s it make my girl feel?” Eddie’s hand grabs onto your ass and slides it up your back. 

“So full,” you answer. “Love when you’re inside me.” The pressure of him against your walls has you clenching around his length. “Spank me, Eddie. I’ve been a bad girl.”

Eddie’s hips stutter; you’ve never caught him off-guard like this before. His palm meets your ass with a small whack, but it’s nothing compared to what you need. 

“No, harder. You won’t hurt me.”

A string of swear words slips from his lips as he smacks the fat of your ass with more power, leaving a stinging print. “More?” But he can’t follow through before he stammers, “fuck—shit—‘m coming.” His dick twitches, and he moans as he finishes. “Come with me; want you to cream my cock while I fuck you full of me. Want you to take all my cum, thassagoodgirlfuckfuckfuck.” He spills into you, continuing to thrust. “Take it, take it all. So fuckin’ good f’me, taking all my cum. Bet you want me to knock you up, don’t you?” The words leave his mouth before he can catch them. 

The thought of having Eddie’s baby normally makes you feel all kinds of ways; imagining him tenderly kissing your bump or staring at your newly-larger breasts in awe. It’s all pretend for now, at least until you graduate. 

Thank God for birth control, you think. But then your whole body freezes up. 

In all of last night’s excitement, you’d forgotten to take your pill. 

“Shit!” you cry out, pulling away from him. But it’s too late; you can feel his release dripping down your leg. You turn to him, misty-eyed, and explain the situation. 

“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” Eddie smiles, laying down and motioning for you to snuggle into his chest. “Would it be so bad? Having my baby?”

You shake your head. “I-I want your baby,” you admit, “but I gotta get my degree, get a job…” You gaze up at him incredulously. “You really mean it when you say you wanna get me pregnant? It’s not just dirty talk?”

Eddie laughs, putting his arm around you and pulling you closer. “Baby, if you only knew how many times I’ve gotten off thinkin’ about knocking you up…” He clicks his tongue. “Turns me on so…damn…bad…” he muses, punctuating the last three words with kisses to your neck. 

“Easy there; you just wore me out,” you giggle. “We should be okay. I can take two now, and I’m just a few days from getting my period.” You laugh harder when he frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re grossed out by periods!”

“No, but we can’t…y’know, practice making a baby while…” he pouts, and you tuck his hair behind his ears. 

“I don’t mind a little mess if you don’t,” you shrug. “Besides, orgasms help with cramps.”

His eyes light up. “Consider me your personal heating pad, then.”

You roll your eyes and swing your legs out of bed. “C’mon, we promised the boys we’d take them to the park.”

Eddie groans, overdramatically, and holds his hands over his heart as if he’s been shot. “You found it, baby. Literally the only thing that could get me out of bed with you.” 

This time when you roll your eyes, there’s a fond smile on your face as well. “I’m sure the boys would be glad to know that they’re prioritized over getting laid.”

“Well, first of all,” Eddie says as he scoops up his boxers from where they’d be kicked on the floor. “It’s not just getting laid. It’s having sex with you. Totally different, we’re making love now. Officially!” His face radiates joy as he jumps around, sliding his boxers up. “Because, you know, you said you love me and all. Remember that?”

Turning around from where you were digging some underwear out of your drawer, you put your hands on Eddie’s chest and smile up at him, placatingly. “I do remember. And I remember you saying you love me too. But the boys are still more important.”

Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to your hair. “They’ll understand when they’re older.”

Playfully, you shove him off of you, which only makes him grab you around the waist and pull you up against his body. You’re squealing as you try to get away from him, to collect your clothes for the day. But, unable to shake him, you settle for him helping you get dressed. 

“Can I stay here until the Harrington quarantine is lifted?” he asks, suddenly shy. 

You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his. “Baby, you can stay here forever.” 

[geotjwrs]

hold me

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; ANGSTANGSTANGST!!

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light on the walls of the cozy living room. Y/N sat on the couch, his fingers lightly grazing over the pages of a script he was supposed to be learning. His mind, however, was far from the lines in front of him. He glanced over at Jenna, who was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, her movements graceful and precise.

She caught his eye and smiled, the sight of which warmed his heart despite the cold shadow looming over their lives. He forced a smile back, trying to keep his thoughts from drifting to the harsh reality they were facing.

A month ago, everything had changed. Y/N, the rising star known for his roles in "Stranger Things," "Scream 6," and "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse," had been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. The prognosis was grim; the treatments hadn't worked. Now, he was left with a few precious months, a fact he hadn't been able to hide from Jenna for long.

They had cried together, fought the despair together, and tried every possible treatment. But the cruel truth remained: their time was running out.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready," Jenna called out, breaking his reverie. Her voice was light, but he could hear the underlying strain.

"Smells amazing," he replied, setting the script aside and rising to join her. He walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back into him, her hands still busy chopping vegetables.

"I was thinking," he began, his voice hesitant, "that we should start ticking off items from our bucket list."

Jenna turned in his arms to face him, her eyes searching his. "You mean...?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Let's not waste another moment. Let's spend these months doing everything we've ever dreamed of."

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she blinked them away quickly. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's do it."

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Jenna embarked on an adventure of a lifetime. They visited the places they'd always talked about but never had the time to see. From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the serene beaches of the Maldives, they soaked in every moment, every sight, every experience.

In Paris, they danced under the Eiffel Tower, the twinkling lights reflecting in Jenna's eyes as Y/N spun her around. The city of love lived up to its name, and they reveled in each other's presence, forgetting the world around them.

"Remember our first trip to Paris?" Jenna asked one evening as they strolled along the Seine.

"How could I forget?" Y/N replied with a chuckle. "You almost pushed me into the river trying to get that perfect photo."

She laughed, leaning into him. "Best photo we ever took."

In New York, they saw Broadway shows and wandered through Central Park hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the city. They visited the Museum of Modern Art, where Jenna marveled at the art while Y/N tried to make sense of it.

"Art is supposed to make you feel something," Jenna explained as they stood before a particularly abstract piece.

"It makes me feel confused," Y/N admitted, making her giggle.

They laughed, they cried, and they held each other through the pain and the joy. Each city, each experience was a treasure, a memory to hold onto when the inevitable came.

On quieter days, they stayed home, cooking together, watching their favorite movies, and simply enjoying each other's company. They talked about the future they would never have, and while it hurt, it also brought them closer.

"Do you remember the first time we cooked together?" Jenna asked one evening as they prepared dinner.

"I remember burning the pasta," Y/N replied with a grin.

"You were so confident," she teased, "and so wrong."

They laughed, their shared memories a comforting reminder of their journey together.

One particularly memorable evening was spent in an Italian vineyard, where they tasted wines, sampled local cheeses, and watched the stars come out in a clear Tuscan sky. They sat on a blanket, Y/N leaning against a tree with Jenna nestled between his legs, her head resting on his chest.

"This is perfect," Jenna whispered, looking up at the stars.

"You're perfect," Y/N replied, kissing the top of her head.

They shared dreams and whispered secrets, their words a blend of joy and sorrow, hope and despair. Every moment was cherished, every second a precious memory in the making.

As the months progressed, Y/N's health declined steadily. There were days when the pain was almost unbearable, but Jenna was always there, her presence a soothing balm. She became adept at administering his medications, learned how to help him through the worst of it, and, most importantly, she never let him feel alone.

In the spring, they returned to their home, deciding to spend the remaining time in familiar surroundings. Their days were filled with love and tenderness, every moment a cherished memory in the making. They talked about their favorite moments, shared stories from their childhoods, and planned small, manageable adventures nearby.

One warm afternoon, Y/N took Jenna to a secluded spot by a lake. They had a picnic, complete with her favorite sandwiches and a bottle of wine they had brought back from Italy. They laughed, reminisced, and watched the sunset together. As the sky turned a deep orange and the stars began to appear, Y/N took Jenna's hand.

"I want you to promise me something," he said softly, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Anything," she replied, her voice trembling.

"When I'm gone, I want you to keep living your life to the fullest. Keep acting, keep shining, and keep spreading joy. You have so much to give, Jenna. Don't let my absence hold you back."

Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded. "I promise," she whispered. "I promise I'll do my best."

The final weeks were the hardest. Y/N's strength waned, and he spent more time in bed, too weak to do much of anything. Jenna remained his constant companion, reading to him, singing to him, and holding him close when the pain became too much.

One night, as a storm raged outside, Y/N woke up gasping for breath. Jenna was by his side in an instant, her heart pounding with fear. She held him, murmuring soothing words, her tears mingling with his.

"Jenna," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Hold me."

She climbed into the bed beside him, cradling him in her arms. He buried his face in her neck, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"I love you," he said, his voice growing weaker with each word. "Thank you...for everything."

"I love you too," she replied, her voice breaking. "Always."

Y/N's breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, a peaceful expression settling on his face. Jenna held him tighter, feeling his heart beat against hers. As the storm outside began to subside, Y/N took his final breath, surrounded by love.

Jenna stayed with him for a long time, her heart shattered yet filled with gratitude for the time they had shared. She kept her promise, continuing to live her life to the fullest, carrying Y/N's love and memory with her always.

In the days that followed, Jenna honored his memory by living as he had asked her to. She continued to act, to bring joy and inspiration to others. And though the pain of losing Y/N never fully left her, she carried his love with her, a beacon of light guiding her through the darkness.

Their story was one of love and loss, of hope and heartbreak. Jenna found solace in the memories they had created, drawing strength from the time they had shared. She often visited the places they had been, feeling his presence beside her, whispering words of encouragement and love.

Years passed, and Jenna's career flourished. She took on roles that challenged her, inspired her, and kept Y/N's spirit alive. Every performance, every success was a tribute to him, a way to honor the promise she had made.

One evening, after a particularly successful premiere, Jenna found herself alone on the balcony of her apartment. The city lights stretched out before her, a sea of twinkling stars in their own right. She looked up at the sky, feeling the familiar ache of loss but also the warmth of his memory.

"You'd be proud of me," she whispered to the stars. "I hope I'm making you proud."

In the quiet of the night, she felt a gentle breeze, as if Y/N was answering her. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely, but this time, they were tears of gratitude, not just sorrow.

Jenna continued to live her life to the fullest, keeping Y/N's memory alive in everything she did. She spoke about him often in interviews, sharing their story with the world. Fans and colleagues alike were moved by her strength, her resilience, and the deep love that had defined their relationship.

"Y/N taught me to live fully, to love deeply, and to never take a single moment for granted," she would say, her voice filled with emotion. "He may not be here physically, but his spirit is with me always."

And so, their story continued, a testament to the power of love, the resilience of the human spirit, and the beauty of living each day as if it were your last. Jenna carried Y/N's love with her, a guiding light in the darkest of times, a reminder that even in the face of inevitable sorrow, there is always hope, always joy, always love.