#she carries a lot of burdens :[
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starburstminibot · 6 days ago
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What's Transformers ARK Elita like?
I'm so glad you asked teeheehee :]
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Elita, one of the most feared among the autobot ranks. Luckily for the Decepticons, she's usually too busy running the whole army to show her face in battle often. But when she does... it's almost a promised victory for the Autobots. Her paint is the color of Energon... an usually graphic choice for an autobot. She's the oldest sister of the trio (Consisting of Arcee and Chromia) and considered the strictest and coldest of them.
Her objective is to protect her family and her people, by any means necessary. She views Optimus as a kind and inspiring leader... but sometimes she thinks he's far too soft. She often makes the hard decisions that he cannot, and takes over command when a more objective approach is needed. The two disagree frequently, but are also very aware that they make up for each other's weaknesses. Optimus is able to show empathy and compassion when Elita cannot bring herself to. In another world... they are each other's perfect other half.
Unfortunately in this world, there is a war to be won, and that leaves no room for pleasantries.
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rileys-battlecats · 3 months ago
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my problem is that i love my ocs and want them to be happy. but. i am a tragedy enjoyer at heart
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piduai · 8 months ago
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i do like how sofia aged badly, in 99.99% stories when there's a 20 years time skip the aged women look unchanged at all which is more insulting than having a woman in her 40s gain weight and lose a tooth. noses don't work like that though even if they've been broken but ig it's a stylistic choice to make her resemble a baba yaga in appearance while keeping a strong and kind spirit
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aheckinmess · 5 months ago
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Atlas [Toshinori] (Angst)
(One-shot 20/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)
Read on AO3.
Tags: Toshinori Yagi, All Might, Smol Might, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Protective Toshinori, Protective All Might, All Might-centric, Young Toshinori Yagi, Toshinori Has to Shoulder a Lot of Weight, But Not Just Because He's a Hero, OC Shoulders a Lot of Weight Too, But She's Worried about Being a Burden, A Lot of Angst in This One, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, We Weren't Made to Be Atlas, Don't Carry the Weight of the World on Your Shoulders, It's Okay to Ask for Help, OC is Sad, OC is Tired, I Mean Aren't We All?
Word Count: 2,052 words
Summary: After a long day hanging out with a friend, Ichijiku gets frustrated because she feels like she's not contributing anything but also like she's contributing too much at the same time. Toshinori comforts her because he knows exactly how she feels.
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Ichijiku (Tigress)
“It just feels like she’s always watching over my shoulder, waiting for me to mess up.”
“I felt that way when I left home. I thought I saw all of my so-called friends around me, too, telling me what a screw up I am.” Hanoku says. 
“I don’t see Grandma everywhere, I’m just in a constant state of fight-or-flight. It makes me second-guess myself. I get hypervigilant and anxious.” I elucidate, trying to keep the focus on the point I’m trying to make.
Irritation coils in my limbs as I try not to be mean. I get that you’re trying to relate, but you always try to remind me your life was worse than mine. Why can’t I say anything without feeling overshadowed when I just needed a safe place to feel
? I take a few deep breaths, trying to remind myself that my friend isn’t at fault. My weary psyche needs a safe place to land, but the only place it's ever had is my own arms.
“Well, what have you tried so far to help with the anxiety?” She asks. It’s a simple enough question, but in my tired anxiety, all I hear is, Clearly, you’re not doing enough.
“Soft music in my earbuds so I don’t have to hear the sounds all around me. It helps me sleep.” I explain, fidgeting with the fabric of my shirt, unable to look at her.
“So, that method helps, but you still aren’t sleeping well? What if you played around with the lighting instead? Then, you’d be fine!” Hanoku suggests. You’re not doing enough to prevent it. You haven’t considered all of your options. God, it’s so annoying listening to you be so stupid.
“Well, I’m doing better than last week. Without the earbuds I barely slept at all.”
“Well, that’s good. Oh!” She dismisses the tired look on my face as I look up at her and surges forward. “Maybe you could try aromatherapy!” She looks at me with a proud smile. “You can train your body to know you are safe and it’s time to sleep!” It’s obvious that this had a simple solution all along, dumbass.
In my insecurities, I force a smile even as I internally crumble. I don’t have much energy left in my reserves after the past few weeks. Between anxiety and fighting villains, all I want is a place to share my woes without being out-traumatized. 
With a solution shoved into my lap, I can only assume I’ve overstayed my welcome on the subject of anxiety. I just want someone to listen to me. But
they have their own problems to deal with. Adding mine must be an extra burden. Guilt makes me straighten up and look ahead, avoiding eye contact as I give her a nod.
“Yeah, I use my pillow mist. It helps since it smells like Toshinori.” I admit, kicking a rock out of the way as we walk.
“Ah, okay. What if I sent you scary stories before bed?” She giggles. “Maybe then your anxiety would have a reason to stay and then go away on its own?”
My brows furrow as I immediately reject that idea. But I shove it away with a laugh and a shrug; I don’t want to bother her anymore than I already have. I turn to her with a smile and nudge her with a wink.
“If your goal is to keep me awake to talk to you about them, then sure. But those are likely to fuel my anxiety more.”
“Ugh! Fine.” She groans, further solidifying that I’m just an irritation. She looks across the street at a couple playing with their kid. “On a more serious note, is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No.”
. . . . .
“You bastard! How dare you cheat on me with that whore!” The sound of breaking glass on the TV echoes through the living room as I step through the door, feeling defeated and exhausted despite only walking once around the park with Hanoku. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me? Can you feel the way you break my heart, you cheap piece of ass?!”
“Ichan?” Toshinori calls, his eyes glued to the television set. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“Yeah, it
was fine.” I give him a believable smile. He’s busy watching his show. I’ve already bothered one person today, anyway. I shuffle my shoes onto the carpet and hang my jacket on the coat rack. “I’m gonna lay down a bit.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” 
Everything is not fine. I pad down to our room and curl up under the blankets, inhaling and exhaling the scent of my husband to ground myself. Though I shouldn’t check my phone when I know I’m going to be disappointed even further, I can’t stop myself from scrolling through all of my conversations hopefully.
A few writing friends promised to read my story yesterday since I’ve finally gotten a solid outline written out, but I’m not surprised to see nothing has been touched. Don’t go down that hole. There’s no reason to be upset. I scroll through Hana’s posts in the same collection just to be sure it’s not me. Both Sayuri and Hanoku left comments within the last two hours. A painful feeling bubbles in my gut, so I should close my phone. 
But I don’t.
I enter the rabbit hole of counting just how many conversations I can stop just by existing. Six conversations in my messages alone had steady responses until I said something. They just got busy. It’s not just you. I keep telling myself.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t so consistent.
When tears make seeing my screen difficult, I finally turn off my phone. The blanket wraps around me until the only opening is around my nose for breathing. Ungrateful brat. I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I want my friends to like me. They only talk to me when I’m alone with them, but in the middle of our friend group, I’m not as important as other people. I get talked over and dismissed. My problems aren’t as big, so they don’t matter. And I know they have lives, but
I don’t want to be the center of their world, I just want to be a part of their constellation.
Tiger roars in the back of my mind, fighting to try and be heard, but I don’t want to hear her for the time being. I just want to feel my emotions and be swallowed by them for a little while, seeing as I so frequently shove them deep, deep into the abyss.
“Ichan,” Toshinori’s soft tones caress my ear as his weight shifts the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired.” I lie, too scared to bother him. He’s the Symbol of Peace. He’s already got enough on his shoulders. I can’t add anymore weight.
“Are you saying that because you think you’re going to bother me, or are you really just tired?” He hums, and when I hesitate for a second too long, he squeezes me tight. “Talk to me, Ichan. I can carry it for both of us.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” I whimper. “You already carry so much. It’s not fair if I let you carry me, too.”
“It is my privilege to carry you.” He chuckles, before abruptly sweeping me up - covers and all - and spinning me around. “You’re light as a feather!”
I squeal and hide my face in his chest.
“Now, tell me what happened.”
“I’m tired.” I sniff, decorating his shirt with salty stains as I choke on a sob. “I’m tired of being ignored. I’m tired of everyone treating my problems like they’re not as bad as theirs. I just wanna sleep and never wake up.”
“Hey,” He coos, sitting back on the bed and pulling me closer. It feels like he’s trying to wring out all the sorrow from my bones. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t at least partially work. “You’re allowed to be tired of that. Even if you take a nap and realize you were just tired, you’re allowed to feel that way.”
“But I feel bad!” I cry, fingers grasping at him as I grow more certain he’ll leave, disgusted with every uttered word. “I’m not supposed to want things from them! They’re doing their best and I know they are–”
“Except you need them.”
“Except
I
” It hurts to admit. I can’t say it. I can’t need them. They need me to carry them. “But they’re all trying their best and I have no right to ask them for anything. It just feels like if I stopped talking to them altogether, nobody would notice I was gone. Nobody would notice that anything was wrong because I’m Ichijiku. And Ichijiku is always okay. Even when Ichijiku is suffering, she’s strong and she’ll get through it because it’s Ichijiku! Ichijiku can figure shit out on her own because they have to take care of themselves first and Ichijiku will be fine because she knows what they’re going through and they’re having a hard time. They can spend time with all of their other friends because Ichijiku will always be around. Ichijiku will never leave. Ichijiku would never get mad that they’re too busy for her. They can throw another brick on top of the pile because like Luisa, Ichijiku might buckle and bend but she’ll never break. She can handle it. She can fix her own problems.” My muscles clench and clench and clench until they’re sore.
“But Ichan,” Toshinori rubs my shoulders as he forces them to relax with his superior strength. “Sometimes, you can’t handle it.”
“I HAVE TO!” I roar, baring my teeth as I throw my head back to look at him. “I have to be able to handle it! Because if I don’t then who’s going to help everyone else?”
“Ichan,” Toshinori caresses my cheek, thumbing away tears. “That’s not your job.”
“But it is.” I cough, rubbing my eyes and shaking in my exhaustion. “They say it’s not, but every time I ask for help, they redirect me to their problems. It is because I can’t leave them to deal with it on their own like they can with me. I can’t leave it be because I’m scared they’ll get hurt. They’ll get sad. And no one will be there for them. So I’m here, Mr. Symbol. I AM HERE.” I huff, raking my fingers through my hair. If anyone understands that, it’s you. “And that’s fine. I don’t mind that. I would break myself in half a hundred times and cry every night and give limbs and organs and whatever other bodily instrument they need to keep them safe. To keep them happy. To keep them protected and of sound mind. But
” I open my mouth, unable to find the words.
“But there’s no one to do that for you.” Toshinori breathes, eyes glistening as I look at him. An understanding that breaks me and sews me back together reflects in those pretty blue eyes. “Someone’s always too busy. Everyone else has problems at the same time you do. Someone always needs your strength to help hold them up even when you’re tired and don’t know if you can
but you do it all the same.”
“Y-Yeah
” I shrivel back into his arms, heart aching as guilt weighs heavy.
He knows all about it because he does it every day. And here I am whining about it. Adding stress to one of his few rest times.
“Toshi, I’m–”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” He growls, gripping my jaw to make me look at him. “What did you tell me when I first met you? Before you ever knew I was All Might? You told me that you wished you could take the burden of every hero and carry it for a while. And when you learned I was All Might you did.” He kisses my lips, slowly carving out every soft crevice of my skin. “So don’t you dare apologize for letting me do the same.”
Silence hangs in the air like drying laundry as he holds me, breath heavy as he bears the brunt of my sadness for me. And for once, I let him.
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Want More Toshinori? Try: The Straw
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rusted-phone-calls · 2 years ago
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sophie is independent but not in the way that keefe is independent. understand?
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muu-kun · 2 years ago
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Speaking of fashion, I will eventually have the appropriate amount of time to dedicate myself to a proper attire headcanon post. For now, I only have examples for silhouettes pertaining to dresses gathered. Which at this point can ultimately be narrowed down in explanation as Muu holding preference for a bodice that does not require even just a modest breast size.
Although he does wear bralettes (which is not out of gender dysphoria or euphoria on any account actually. Instead, it is more so like a running joke with himself at this point due to the fact he's actually had an infatuation with wearing them since he was a sixteen year old boy that found a bra lying in the street) he doesn't do so with the intent of applying padding to them-- especially when considering the fact he has some minor gynaecomastia due to stubbornly persistent baby fat going on. He can deal with those, but he definitely doesn't want to even so much as imply he has "real breasts."
He also isn't one to gravitate towards those built around the necessity for breasts due to the fact that he does not wish for the attire adorning his body to appear as though something (or somethings) is missing. Which is also the given reason why even in his decision to wear what is considered women's underwear underneath the dresses similar to above, he does not engage in the act of tucking. Yes, that does come within treacherous territory per the fact that he is then advertising himself as a flamboyantly youthful individual with an occasionally visible (and not incredibly well endowed, mind you) genitalia outline in his attire. That's not even to mention the detectability of his disabilities on establishing conversation with him.
Beyond that, he's not too partial to much else. Length and material is otherwise irrelevant as long as he can freely move within it to accommodate an in-between active and sedentary lifestyle. He would also best appreciate those that are not overwhelming to the senses in one manner or another-- this includes itchiness, heaviness, lack of breathability, and so on. Textures usually aren't too worrisome to him, however, as he has been raiding the closet of his female friends (such as Hannah of @kannojo predominantly) for years, so by now he knows what he does and doesn't like with enough ease that even unexpectedly finding something is unappealing to him van be easily remedied without any fit.
The bottom line with all of this is while Muu strictly wears what is primarily marketed as women's clothing, he does not do so out of the desire to be a woman. In fact, he's asked that question within himself many times only to come up with the same conclusion each time: He is simply an aged up boy caught up in having to navigate too many things at once, therefore eccentricities intended to lighten his load have transpired. Being that 99% of abusers have been men throughout the years, and women his sanctuary from them, it became sensible at some point for him to cease one struggle for favor of mirroring his safety while he sources through another. Muu has no idea even how to be a person yet, let alone a gendered one.
That is also not to say he wishes to abolish entirely in favor of utilizing they/them pronouns. In fact, it still remains quite the opposite. At this time in his life, he's not looking to be othered more than he always has acquired for himself. Being gridlocked into a perpetual state of regression in his present has been isolating enough as is that he doesn't wish for more beyond that. It also has intriguingly been almost beneficial in keeping some of his identity centered, though, as being so interwoven with his inner teen provides connection with the perspective of character held back then.
When he was sixteen, he was very self assured in nearly all aspects in life until led to second guessing the bulk of them. Of those is one of which where he was well adamant that he was a boy with a preference for he/him pronouns to demonstrate that. And while he's been able to find appreciation for femininity that he'd have otherwise mocked in his youth, that is as far as it goes for the time being. Working beyond the semantics of that just isn't on the table at this time in his life.
Where he might go with it during Pride Month is still up to him, but, really, his focus is far more centered on fulfilling and answering other aspects of his person at this time. Generalized comfort and safety are of the utmost importance to his emotionally led manner of living. Once that is established, whether or not he opts for reintroducing what is considered men's attire back into his wardrobe is completely up in the air.
#; ♡ ; headcanons#muu doesn't even necessarily actively consider himself nonbinary due to the fact that he's open to the possibility#that he will feel centered in his identity as a man just as he was with boyhood once he is no longer Terrified to exist as is#identifying as genderflux in some aspect is definitely a cluch for him in regards to#when you've heard from people your whole life that you are not a man for aspects relating to maturity and physical appearance#you eventually may find yourself going I'm not a man maybe!! Out of safety and hopefulness that doing so might make people be kind to you#socially he definitely feels abandoned by masculinity and blocked out of spaces by his peers#but being a woman has never fit right in his head either as he genuinely knows he does not Want to be one#what he wants to feel included and wanted with so the bulk of muses who've so far made him feel that way are women#and only really a couple men at best with fran at the top of the list#women wise he has neff who he has commented even himself to be the only person not including his canon wife#to love him unconditionally#and suki who after one stint or another involving sully and calix was the only person to ask him how he was feeling#I'm also including lyla per the fact that she is one of few he can be fun and funny with which may not sound like a lot#but when you carry the burden of holding a notoriety for being melancholic it is actually really an act of kindness#to be considered something other than that even just once because he did used to be very cheeky back in the day#nowadays he just spends so much time worrying about what characteristics of himself must be so grotesque to others around him#that he's lost the ability to even breathe too loud around another person let alone take up space and time beyond that#which is actually why I find it very fitting he wears women's clothing because which section of the binary has gone centuries being told#to stay out of sight and out of mind for their own safety ??#not to mention the fact that can one really be too surprised that someone deeply in need of nurturing spaces#would then decide to dress like a woman because of the connection with motherhood#being that moms are usually the poster parent for unconditional love which is a whole mixed bag I'm not getting into today#nonetheless the bottom line is still that muu does not identify as either transgender transsexual or even as a crossdresser as#none feel applicable to him at this time and instead he's solid in being people's eccentric friend who happens to be#both feminine and jovial and most Definitely sensitive all while he figures out all else beyond that
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pepprs · 2 years ago
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also like to clarify.. we were not expecting her to leave. and any time she would have left would’ve been bad timing but it’s like.. this was HER program and we didn’t have enough time to really get to know it as well as she did (and still does probably). and there are so many flaws in it that we didn’t have time to address and our attention was spread so thin bc we were / still are juggling a million things and trying to compensate for the vacancy in our already extremely and egregiously small staff. so i get that the leaders may be feeling unsupported and resentful of that and that is very valid. but it’s like.. if that is in fact the case i think it’s important to know that this is not ideal for us either. we lost the person who knew this program inside and out and we still haven’t recovered and even though her position has been filled now (by my new colleague bestie who is AMAZING and has been helpful and supportive and has gone above and beyond in every way and i adore them don’t get me wrong) we may never fully recover from it or at least we won’t for a very long time. and im not even just talking about like the impact on our work. i mean on us as people who were closely psychically bound together. which sounds freakish and weird but we were. that wound is going to take a long time to fully scar and when the scar forms it will always be there. so excuse us for not putting on a perfect asb less than a year after she left us we are kind of seeing the consequences of all of the horrors right now lol.
#purrs#delete later#i need to not be so fucking bitter about it i know it’s not helpful at all. but it just feels so unfair. i feel attacked. i know we had a#lot of room to grow and we still do but it’s like.. we did the best we could and we’re doing the best we could now. and it just sucks. the#things we thought were going well were not. and the things i need to cope they have grudges about. so like what the fuck ever. it’s like at#this point i hate all of them and never want to see them again. LIKE THE WAY IVE BEEN FUCKING BENDING OVER BACKWARDS over text trying to#help one of them bc she texts me all the time and it turns out she thinks we’re evil??? lol. ok. whatever. like go fuck yourself lmao#<- i need to just get this out of my system bc it’s soooo immature and unhelpful and not how a staff member should respond to this and#posting abt it online is dangerous and has consequences. but i just feel so miserable. and small. and painfully aware of my smallness.#and alone and helpless. and unable to support the people who actually are being responsible and mature and coming to confess stuff to us#even though they’re snitching or whatever. like this shit is so unbelievably fucking stupid and i shouldn’t be letting it get me down but i#just feel very vulnerable to it all rn and lonely. but typing out my thoughts and knowing peopel will read them helps (cringe). ok i should#go to bed now bc we have a very long and early day tmrrw and i haven’t prepared for what im supposed to do AT ALL bc we were in that session#for like 5 hours when it was only supposed to be 1.5 and i didn’t get to eat and my ut*rus is trying to rip my body apart like a wolverine!#* unable to support the ppl who are actually being responsible.. LET ALONE my colleague besties who are each carrying the burdens of this in#different ways and are also processing this difficult news in ways that will have implications for our past present and future! like lollll
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mare-the-silly-scroingle · 2 years ago
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i kissed her cheek :D
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scum-belina · 2 years ago
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I hate that I have to go into “hermit mode” any time I’m making serious efforts to heal and improve myself. My environment and the people I’m around only encourage everything I don’t want to do or be. And most disturbing of all, they seem to enjoy seeing everything go wrong for me. They just like to gossip, complain, be cynical, and give me the worst advice you’ve ever heard in your life. God I’m ready to be in better circumstances with better people. I hate having to go at everything alone. 
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gfmima · 1 year ago
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category : ç±łć“ˆæžž ćŽŸç„ž work title : another woman claims to be his girlfriend?
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with a subtle bow of your head, you raise the teacup to your awaiting lips, a veil of porcelain disguising the laughter that threatened to escape. how absurd
 you muse, as you savor a sip of your tea.
far across — two tables away, there sits one of the new acts of lyney and lynette’s show. she was interesting, to say the least. she sings tall tales with intricate detail, weaving major falsehoods about the nature of her relationship with him.
her words describe his love confession, demanding they be together because he couldn’t bear a day without her. she didn’t fail to mention how his sister adores her and refers to her as ‘my future sister-in-law.’
the outlandish narrative lasts with an overt nudge about his frequent visits to her dressing room after every show, which you tune out due to its unsavory implications.
most women would have risen from their seats, confronting her for spewing fantasies about their lover; not you, though. instead, you stay rooted in your place, your curiosity piqued for what else she might spin.
you were engrossed, and if you were to be fully honest, you would’ve readily admit to the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on the mundane conversations of strangers. your penchant for gossip was shared with your lover, turning it into an unusual pastime. it was a fun exchange of information over cups of coffee or tea, normally ending with one of you left scandalized by what was said. archons, were you excited to tell him about what you overhead

“do you swear not to say a word about this to another living soul?” her voice hushed to a near whisper, but it still carries to those within earshot.
“of course! right, ladies?” one of the women quips, with the other two chiming in agreement, creating a chorus of “yes!” and “we’ll keep quiet!”
“if you say so
” she takes a deep breath, as if the weight of her revelation was a heavy burden about to be lifted. “lyney and i are dating
” her shoulders then turn slack, exhibiting the instant wave of relief that washes over her.
you couldn’t help it; a snort of amusement passes your lips. it earned you a few disapproving glances from the nearby patrons, chastising your lack of propriety in a public setting.
she embarks on an exhausting tangent, yakking on the long months she had to weather before she could have confided in her dear friends about her supposed private affair.
she emphasized how lyney insisted on maintaining it under wraps for over a year — eh, wrong! the twins met her for the first time five months ago — out of his desire to protect her from the clutches of obsessed fans and admirers.
the longer she spoke, the closer her stories cross into more ridiculous territory. at one point, she spun a yarn about his grandiose profession of love for their anniversary, including dedicating an entire routine inspired by her.
however, what left you scratching your head was the lack of skepticism from her friends. a quick read of her body language would’ve shone a light at her deception. it had you questioning whether you had somehow gone mad or if they were genuinely as dim-witted as they seemed.
“i knew it! no wonder you’ve been smiling a lot  lately!”
“ah, i’m so jealous~! sigh, he’s such a handsome man.”
“so romantic
 i wish that was me!”
assessing the present circumstances, one might figure you would now reveal all of her lies. you didn’t. rather, you found yourself more inclined to watch and observe how this fiasco will play out.
you trust lyney, enough to know he loves you and wouldn’t pursue another woman behind your back, especially a woman he and his sister worked with. it allowed you to cast aside your initial worries about her and her interest in him. regardless of your opinion, she did her job well, even though you secretly wished she wasn’t so uncomfortably obsessed with him — a notion she made no effort to hide.
clearly, given what you were witnessing.
“oh, look, ladies! here he comes!” one of their voices pierces the air, overtly eager to see the ‘happy couple’ they were led to believe. conversely, lyney’s self-proclaimed lover appears to be positively distraught.
the man in question enters cafe lucerne, his gaze firmly laid on you. he shows little to no mind towards the group of women who shadow his every move. he walks by and greets you with a kiss on the cheek, taking the vacant chair in front of you.
“and how was your day, ma belle?” he removes his hat then runs his fingers through his hair — a simple gesture that left you swooning.
his charming demeanor momentarily distracts you from the comedic disaster unfolding in the background.
it was a tumultuous stir of “huh
 who’s that?” and “gasp, is he cheating on you?” while the two of you converse in mindless chatter. one second, he was recounting his chores for the day; and the next, three indignant women loom over him whereas the source of this mayhem cowers in the back.
“ugh, the audacity to have a mistress and meet her in broad daylight! you have no shame!”
he glances from you to them, genuine bewilderment etched upon his face. “i beg your pardon?”
“oh, don’t play dumb! you know exactly what you’re doing!” another of the women upturns her nose at him.
witnessing the heated back-and-forth, it was remarkable to find that even arouet was invested in the drama.
it transforms into a three-versus-one impasse, but you were impressed by how gracefully he navigated through their baseless accusations. the culmination of the situation came when recognized his ‘lover’ and didn’t hesitate to call her by name, pressing answers for the lies she’d been spreading to her friends.
“i think you’ve all been misled, the only woman i’m seeing is this lovely one right here.” he turns then directs the gentlest of smiles at you.
unable to resist the itch, you finally laugh at the sudden turn of events. karma was indeed on the prowl, and to be a bystander for the incoming argument after she made a fool out of her friends, just to feed her delusion, was gratifying
 for one of you, at least.
“care to tell me what just happened?” lyney tuts, his fingers extending across the table to grasp your hand in his, urging to draw your focus on him.
“later,” you mutter, absorbed by the evolving spectacle. it’s obvious you both will spend the whole evening discussing this

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from the very start, you weren’t one to rejoice in having any eyes on you. it was natural your bond with the one and only wanderer flourished discreetly.
this change in your life required no announcement. it wasn’t information that demanded broadcasting to the world; it could exist on its own if someone were to ask, you’d directly confirm the status of your relationship. otherwise, you find it irrelevant to insert this in areas where it held no relevance.
in the comfort of your solitude, you thrive, cocooned from nosy onlookers. your happiness, his happiness — these two were what truly mattered to you.
as time flowed by, your connection deepened, evolving into a union that grew stronger with each passing moment you shared. it was a sensation both of you held dear, a genuine and keen emotion that, if you dare to admit, could be called ‘love.’
of course, you weren’t ignorant to assume that your journey would be obstacle-free. beyond his undeniable intellect and esteemed role as the assistant and confidant of the dendro archon, he also began to draw attention for his otherworldly beauty.
you were aware that you might coming across his admirers one day. after all, you weren’t oblivious to the wistful glances sent his way by other women, nor the coy attempts at flirtation. still, you hadn’t taken into account the unusual lengths some individuals would go to win even a sliver of his time and attention.
it was painful to watch their efforts be met with a scoff or a withering frown. on a good day, they might receive nothing more than a mocking, “what do you want now?” from him.
on a sun-drenched afternoon, you find yourself perched on the steps leading to the sanctuary of surasthana whilst you await his return from his meeting with lesser lord kusanali.
yet, the tranquility of the sacred place was soon interrupted by an unexpected revelation — you weren’t alone. a trio of researchers positioned themselves near the entrance, their presence blends into the revered location, evoking no more notice than the everyday sights that surround you.
the sunlight dances upon your skin as you, absentmindedly, fiddle with your bracelet, a habit that had taken root over the years. the food container you had brought stays on your lap, and you can feel its warmth gradually dissipate. a frown on your face as you whisper a plea that he arrives before the snacks you prepared grew cold.
your gaze strays and locks onto one of the women standing nearby. suspicion dripped from her eyes, it lingers far longer than you liked. at first, you considered it a peculiar coincidence — perhaps she mistook you for someone else she knew?
unable to contain her curiosity, she approaches you with an air of authority, disregarding her friends’ endeavors to stop her from creating a scene.
“state your business,” she dictates, her tone icy.
you stand unwavering, refusing to yield an inch in the face of her bid to intimidate you. “if you must know, i’m here for wanderer.”
your words invoke a profound reaction within her, it coursed through her like an attack. “well, save your breath and don’t waste your time bothering him.”
“why not? who even are you to tell me what i should do and shouldn’t do?” your cadence steady and colder than hers, a testament to the time you spent with your dear wanderer — it seems to be paying off.
you expected her to either insult you or begin a monologue about her superiority as a researcher, but her reply took you by surprise.
“i’m his lover, duh! i don’t appreciate you flirting with him.” then, in a single motion, she confiscates the container from your grasp.
glances were exchanged amongst her peers, who advance to mediate the interaction. one of them pulls her away and positions himself between you. “i’m sorry for her behavior, miss. her sleep deprivation has her spouting nonsense.”
“i am not! there are clear signs he feels the same way. we’re dating; he’s just very reserved about his emotions.”
before it can escalate further, a familiar voice slices through the tension like a blade. “where have you been?” he chides, as he descends the steps.
beneath his hat, you spy the glaring discontent he directs at these strangers for taking your time away from him.
when your eyes locks, his gaze softens. the sour expression dissolves and was replaced by a flicker of warmth. you offer a reassuring smile in his direction, a gesture that noticeably eases his mind.
he was a stride away from you when she, flaunting a smirk, stops in front of him. you lay a hand over your lips to quash your laughter after spotting the look of disgust he tosses at her.
“wanderer, honey!” she tries to touch his arm but fails when he sidesteps her. “don’t worry, i already handled this pest to lessen the burden for y—”
“who are you?” he sneers, and the haughty look on her face instantly disappears. she attempts to stutter a response, an effort to remind her title as his lover, but his menacing gaze he wore silences her.
“moreso, who are you to advise my wife what to do?”
eh? his wife?
“your wife?!” her friends turn pale, realization dawning upon them. they shiver at the thought of unintentionally crossing him, all thanks to her behavior.
“i-i just thought
”
“well, you thought wrong; know your place.” in a last display of irritation, he shoots them a cutting glare. then, he seizes the food container from her grip, his fingers then intertwine with yours as he guides you away from them.
as you walk away hand-in-hand, you cast a quick glance at her and stick your tongue out to mock her.
“i saw that,” he snickers and tugs you along, nearly causing you to stumble, “and you say i’m mean.”
“don’t get all smart, you called me your wife earlier.”
“shut up! it was meant to end the conversation early.”
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martian-astro10 · 3 months ago
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Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)
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🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.
🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.
🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.
🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.
🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.
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🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.
🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔
🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)
🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me đŸ„ș" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.
🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.
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© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024
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usagii-bun · 3 days ago
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𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).
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In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.
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word count : 12k (12k words of edging)
warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.
minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.
DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.
anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated
— usagii-bun <3
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The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.
His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.
The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.
"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."
With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.
The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.
As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.
"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."
Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.
The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.
Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.
The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.
From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.
Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.
As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.
Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.
Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.
You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.
The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.
The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.
As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I
 request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.
The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."
The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.
The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.
Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.
The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.
You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.
Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.
"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.
You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.
"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."
Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.
"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."
There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."
His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.
The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.
"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"
You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.
You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.
"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."
His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.
"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.
You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.
The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.
"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.
Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.
His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.
When his lips met yours, the world fell away.
The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.
His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.
When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.
His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.
You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.
When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.
"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.
You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.
"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."
Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.
Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.
The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.
The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.
Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.
"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.
When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.
Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.
Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.
His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.
Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.
Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.
Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.
"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.
Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.
Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.
He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.
Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.
Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.
"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."
The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.
"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"
Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.
And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.
Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.
The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.
His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.
"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.
A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.
Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.
His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.
Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.
He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.
His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.
“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”
Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.
He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.
His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.
His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.
Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.
A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.
Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.
"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.
At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.
Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.
"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.
His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.
The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.
He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.
Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.
Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.
You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.
"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.
With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.
You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.
Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.
He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.
His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?
Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...
Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.
His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.
His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.
You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.
Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.
As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.
“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”
The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.
She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”
Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.
The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.
The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.
Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.
It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.
It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.
He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.
As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.
You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its
fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.
Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.
You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.
The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.
Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.
He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.
“Admiring something, are we?”
You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”
He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”
You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was
 just admiring it.”
“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can
” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.
Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”
Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.
“General—”
“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.
“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.
Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.
Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.
He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.
“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.
He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”
Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you
 General.”
“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”
You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”
As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.
“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But
 the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”
“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.
You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now
 it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s
 different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”
Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.
When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”
His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.
Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.
The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.
Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.
Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.
The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.
Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.
The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.
When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.
You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.
The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising
within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.
Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.
His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.
You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.
But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.
As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.
And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.
The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.
He didn’t wait.
Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.
His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.
The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.
Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.
He wanted more.
No, he wanted everything.
The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.
He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.
“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”
You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.
Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.
“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”
The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.
Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.
Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.
His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.
Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.
The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.
"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."
The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.
Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.
"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."
You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.
The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.
Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.
"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.
His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.
"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"
The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.
Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.
Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.
“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.
Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.
You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.
“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”
His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.
“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.
He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.
All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.
His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.
Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.
When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.
The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”
His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.
Author’s Note:
Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3
reblogs, likes, comments, and follows are highly appreciated <3
also check out my masterlist if u are interested in any of my other works <3
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baphometsss · 1 month ago
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I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state
We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.
He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.
Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keep giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.
Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?
It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.
Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)
This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.
As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.
Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.
And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.
And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man does not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.
Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.
If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.
And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.
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kamiraaah · 2 months ago
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TWST PARENTS! Howl, Zigvolt and Viper!!
⚠⚠First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠⚠ Given that warning...
Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Howl, Zigvolt, and Viper families!
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The Howl family, a close-knit and unique family in a way. Whether it's because of their personalities that always seem to clash but at the same time get along so easily.... Or because the children always seem to get into some adventure that may or may not be dangerous. Even Jack has a history of always getting into trouble as a child, something that he tries to prevent from happening to his younger siblings (and ends up failing a few times). Jack's family is extremely welcoming to travelers who visit Shaftland!... Or rather, Jack's mother is the most welcoming and charismatic of the small family nucleus, always appearing to be in a good mood, and is a peacemaker whenever things start to get out of hand. Jack's father is extremely suspicious of anyone outside the family, a typical lone wolf personality (something that Jack ended up inheriting), but he also ends up being the one who spoils his children the most... Okay, so Jack is no longer a little kid, but that won't stop him! He is also the one who ends up dealing most easily with his children's crises, especially Jack's younger brother, who now seems to be in a rebellious phase, and his younger sister who wants to be closer to her siblings... Sometimes it is complicated, but it is good that he has a loving wife who is by his side to help him.
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Ah yes, the Zigvolt family
 Now that's a family that always seems to be involved in something unbelievable. We don't even need to comment on the scandal that occurred when Sebek's mother decided to marry a human, nothing that would really change the young Zigvolt's mind, or even the shock when Baul's wife was the first to bless the couple's union! No one expected a fae like her to be the first to defend the couple, but those close to her already suspected that she had an affection for humans. After all, she also demanded that Lilia share the stories of his travels, whether in person or by letter (how she found out where he was is a mystery to this day)
 Also, she was the one who helped Baul be less
 extreme, against them, in a way. The wedding was a big event that caught the attention of many people in the kingdom, much to Baul's dismay, who wanted it to be something more private, just between family and a few close friends
 But he couldn't hold back the tears when he saw his daughter's happiness. Sebek and his siblings ended up spending a lot of time with their grandparents, and with that, the olderbrother and sister ended up inheriting a bit of their grandmother's playful and bold personality. And whenever they can, they end up teasing the youngest in different ways, saying that he is too serious for his age, or that he has to quickly get out of this rebellious phase against his own father (nothing extremely serious, they just do this so that their brother can enjoy this new phase of his life).
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The Vipers have a complicated history... Mrs. Viper was born and raised within the walls of the Asim mansion, so a lot of the things she was taught ended up, in one way or another, affecting her relationship with her children. She loves them more than anything in the world but... Some teachings are too hard to forget. Mr. Viper has worked at the Asim mansion since childhood, and ended up getting close to and falling in love with the young Viper and, despite all her warnings, he decided to get married and carry the burden of the Viper name alongside his beloved. Promising himself that he would do everything to bring some happiness to his children and his wife. The dance was something that Mrs. Viper insisted on becoming a family tradition, whether on special occasions like birthdays or as a way to help everyone understand and express themselves. Mr. Viper created a small tradition of doing everyone's hair almost every day, were to teach his children how to do more elaborate hairstyles,to talk about everything or nothing to relax or whether to comfort them after a hard day
 Even in difficult times, the Viper family is very loyal to themselves, always looking out for each other's safety even if it costs them their own, whether in a direct or indirect way.
AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little
 I'm going as fast as I can! 🙃
I took a long time with the designs again and I got carried away with the drawings
😅 And... Can you tell I'm not good at creating clothes? Anyway! I hope you enjoy them, and feel free to share your headcanons! <3
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svt-luna · 2 months ago
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let me start by saying I absolutely love your creativity and story telling! Your Luna pieces are so refreshing and I look forward to reading them!!
We have seen a jealous Jeonghan, and I was hoping we could see the jealous side of Luna. As much as I love an unbothered queen, I think it would be interesting to see how she would react in a jealousy situation.
𝜗℘ THE BOY IS MINE
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❛ đ˜șđ˜°đ˜¶ đ˜Żđ˜Šđ˜Šđ˜„ đ˜”đ˜° 𝘹đ˜Șđ˜·đ˜Š đ˜Șđ˜” đ˜¶đ˜±, đ˜©đ˜ąđ˜„ đ˜ąđ˜Łđ˜°đ˜¶đ˜” đ˜Šđ˜Żđ˜°đ˜¶đ˜šđ˜©. đ˜Șđ˜”'𝘮 đ˜Żđ˜°đ˜” đ˜©đ˜ąđ˜łđ˜„ đ˜”đ˜° 𝘮𝘩𝘩, đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Š 𝘣𝘰đ˜ș đ˜Ș𝘮 𝘼đ˜Ș𝘯𝘩. đ˜Ș'𝘼 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳đ˜ș đ˜”đ˜©đ˜ąđ˜” đ˜șđ˜°đ˜¶ 𝘮𝘩𝘩𝘼 đ˜”đ˜° 𝘣𝘩 đ˜€đ˜°đ˜Żđ˜§đ˜¶đ˜Žđ˜Šđ˜„, đ˜©đ˜Š 𝘣𝘩𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘹𝘮 đ˜”đ˜° 𝘼𝘩— đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Š 𝘣𝘰đ˜ș đ˜Ș𝘮 𝘼đ˜Ș𝘯𝘩. ❜
timeline: 2023
synopsis: In the city of love, Luna finally snaps and learns just how far she’ll go to protect what’s hers.
warnings: 18+ mdni, mature content, sexual content, smut, cursing, possessive!Luna, angry!Luna, Luna’s self-conflicting thoughts, sexual tension, flirting, subtle innuendos, alcohol consumption, kisses!, pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex (girly pop is on birth control), teasing, dirty talk, dry humping, riding, degradation, edging, Jeonghan the menace, Jeonghan’s desire to be possessed, lowkey toxic, a little bit of a red flag for the both of them, they are both freaky af, pure filth!
thank you so so much for loving my works! also, thank you for requesting this, i absolutely fell in love with this idea— i have also been getting a lot of possessive!Luna and angry!Luna requests so i have mixed all of those ideas here. plus, you guys voted for a smut for this one on my last poll
 so here it is! so i hope you lovely humans enjoy it!!
‘freak like me, you wanna good girl that does bad things to you.’ that reminds me of them.
Disclaimer: The following chapter contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. It is intended for adult readers only. If you are under the legal age or find these subjects uncomfortable, it is advised for you to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
╰ ౚৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౚৎ writings masterlist
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There was a quiet shadow that hovered over Luna.
It had been there for as long as she could remember— silent, unseen by others, but always present. It wasn’t something she could simply brush away or ignore, no matter how much she tried.
At first, it had confused her, this weight that pressed down on her chest, something that tugged at her insides, tightening like a vine when certain people or situations crossed her path. But over the years, she had learned to understand it, control it, and accept it as a part of her personality.
It wasn’t something to fear— just a quiet burden she had grown used to carrying.
Luna remembers the first time she noticed that quiet shadow.
She was seven years old, back in Kensington, London. Her memories of that time are vivid— her mom, graceful and elegant, the very image of a ballerina, guiding her students with precision and patience. Luna’s mom had once been a professional ballerina, but after an injury ended her dancing career, she became a ballet teacher, molding the next generation of dancers.
She was who Luna aspired to be, her biggest inspiration. Luna loved ballet because of her mom. It was her way of connecting with the person she admired most, the person she wanted to be like— this was before music had stolen her heart before she dreamed of stages and lights and becoming an idol.
One day, during one of their ballet classes, Luna sat at the edge of the dance floor, her small hands gripping the bar as she watched her mom in the middle of the studio. Her mother was focused, and poised, her sharp eyes tracing the movements of each student as they worked through their routine. But that day, her attention was particularly fixed on one new student— Mila.
Mila was good. Even Luna had to admit that. Her lines were sharp, her movements fluid in a way that most of the other girls in the class couldn’t quite replicate.
Luna’s mom corrected her form, praised her posture, and used her as an example for the rest of the class. She wasn’t biased— Luna’s mom would never show favoritism just because Luna was her daughter. She was a professional, and Luna understood that, even at seven.
Luna didn’t expect her mom to treat her differently from the other students, nor did she want her to. She wanted to earn her mother’s praise the same way everyone else did.
And yet, something about that day sat uncomfortably with her. She wasn’t angry, she wasn’t even jealous that Mila was getting all of her mom’s attention.
Luna understood why.
Mila deserved the praise. She was graceful and talented. It made sense that her mom would focus on her. Luna could see that clearly.
But what bothered her was how Mila seemed to cling to her mom, how she wouldn’t leave her side after class ended. She followed her, asking questions, seeking more help with this step or that turn.
It wasn’t the attention itself that made Luna’s heart twist— after all, her mom was the teacher. It was her job to help the students.
Luna understood that, too.
But then, Mila had called her “Mom.”
That was the moment Luna met the shadow.
The quiet shadow that curled inside her, wrapping around her chest like a creeping vine, tightening, making her feel
 strange.
She wasn’t mad, not really.
She knew her mom was just doing her job. But hearing Mila call her “Mom” made something inside Luna snap, something she didn’t fully understand yet.
It wasn’t jealousy— it was something different, more deeper.
An anger she hadn’t known existed until that moment.
How dare she? How dare Mila try to claim something that wasn’t hers?
Luna sat there, frozen in place, watching as her mother gently corrected Mila’s posture, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside her daughter.
It was in that quiet moment, with Mila standing so close to her mom, that Luna realized she didn’t want to share.
Not her mother.
Not ever.
Luna remembered how ashamed she had felt for feeling that way.
Even as a child, it hadn’t made sense to her— this sudden, overwhelming wave of anger that had no real direction, no clear target.
It was Mila, but it wasn’t Mila’s fault.
It was her mother, but her mother had done nothing wrong.
The feeling that had curled up in her chest was irrational, something she couldn’t place, and she hadn’t liked it.
Not at all.
Luna hadn’t understood it at the time, but the way it made her skin prickle and her stomach tighten was something she wanted to forget.
She had ignored it, pushing it down deep where she wouldn’t have to face it, wouldn’t have to explain it to herself.
Because how could she? How could she explain a feeling so ugly, so selfish?
She had done nothing about it that day. She had simply sat there, forcing a smile when her mom looked over, her small hands clenched into fists behind her back as she tried to shake off the knot in her throat. And she had told herself it was a one-time thing.
Just a bad day.
She thought she had been tired, maybe hungry, even sick— anything to explain away the strange feelings she couldn’t put words to.
That was it, Luna had thought. She was just having a bad day, and the odd tension in her chest would pass by tomorrow.
But it hadn’t.
Every now and then, when Luna least expected it, that quiet shadow would resurface.
It wasn’t constant— thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to deal with every day. But every once in a while, when someone tried to take or claim something that was hers, the feeling would crawl back into her mind, winding itself around her thoughts like it had all those years ago.
It was subtle and quiet in a way that made it easy to dismiss, but it was there.
Luna could feel it, simmering just beneath the surface.
It could be small things— someone borrowing her Barbie doll without asking or someone stealing her answers in school. Or it could be bigger moments, like when she noticed a friend growing too close to someone she cared about, or when someone new joined a group and immediately seemed to click with people she had known for years.
The feelings were rare, but they came.
And when they did, Luna would find herself reacting in the same way.
She would feel her face flush, red creeping up her neck, and a tightness would settle in her chest. Her gaze would harden, and she’d find herself glaring before she could even stop herself. Her eyes would burn, locking onto the person who had unknowingly triggered that shadow to stir.
But she never did anything about it.
Never once.
Luna was good at brushing it off, pretending it didn’t matter because she knew better. She was logical, rational. She prided herself on being someone who didn’t let her emotions control her. So she never let it show, never let it become something more than a fleeting thought.
Her mind would scream, her heart would pound, but outwardly, she remained composed.
Calm.
Luna never let herself act on it, because she was a good person.
She didn’t lash out, didn’t make a scene, especially not for something so petty. She told herself that it was her problem, not theirs. No one else seemed to notice these things— no one else saw a threat where she did.
It was all in her head, this quiet burden that only she carried.
However, there was only one person in existence who ever seemed to notice this shadow that clung to her, silent and unyielding.
And that was none other than Yoon Jeonghan.
Jeonghan had always been exceptionally good at reading people, an uncanny talent for seeing beyond the surface.
With Luna, though, it was different— he didn’t just read her, he understood her in a way that made her both comforted and unnerved.
He never asked too many questions, never pried, but the way he looked at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking, was something she could never quite shake.
It was during her trainee days at PLEDIS when Luna first realized just how much Jeonghan could see her— really see her.
She was sixteen, and the bright green walls of the infamous training room, known as the ‘Melona Prison,’ loomed around her and the rest of the trainees.
Boys and girls, all in their teens, filled the space, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the mirrored walls. It was another long day of practice, but as usual, they managed to steal moments to goof around, to release the tension building up from endless hours of training.
Jeonghan had been her closest friend back then.
Her best friend.
And she was his.
They were inseparable, the two of them gravitating toward each other with an ease that made everyone else assume they had known each other for years, when in reality, they had only met a few months prior.
Jeonghan had always been Luna’s safe place, the one person who could coax a laugh out of her even when she felt like she was drowning in exhaustion.
But on that particular day, Luna felt something stir inside her, something familiar yet unwanted.
She was sitting against the wall, catching her breath while the others horsed around, when her eyes drifted toward the far corner of the room.
There, Jeonghan stood, his back to her, talking to one of the female trainees— Seoyeon. They were close— closer than Luna liked, though she told herself it didn’t matter.
Jeonghan was charismatic, naturally friendly with everyone, and she had no reason— no right— to feel anything but indifference toward the scene playing out before her.
And yet.
Luna’s gaze sharpened when she saw him lean down, his hand coming up to playfully squeeze Seoyeon’s cheeks. She watched as the girl laughed, a bright, carefree sound that seemed to cut through the room. Jeonghan grinned at her, the way he always did, that smile of his that could disarm anyone in seconds.
Luna felt it again.
That tightening in her chest. The heat rushing to her face. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, her knuckles turning white as she stared at them.
She wasn’t mad.
She wasn’t jealous.
She had no reason to be.
Jeonghan was her best friend, and she knew how he was.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong.
And the trainee— she was just enjoying his attention.
Luna understood.
She understood perfectly well.
But why, then, was she so angry?
Jeonghanïżœïżœïżœs eyes flicked toward her then, catching her in her quiet storm. His gaze lingered on her for just a second too long before a grin spread across his face.
It didn’t even take him a moment to read her— he had known instantly, like he always did.
Leaving Seoyeon, Jeonghan strolled over to where Luna sat, his expression lazy, amused. He dropped down beside her without a word, his shoulder brushing against hers, and with that same teasing smirk, he reached out and squeezed her cheeks just like he had done to Seoyeon.
“Nana-ya,” he sang in that lilting, sing-song voice of his, his eyes twinkling with that hidden understanding that made Luna’s heart stop for a moment.
That’s when it clicked.
After years of brushing off that quiet shadow, after years of pretending it didn’t exist, Luna finally understood.
She had met this shadow before, but it wasn’t until now— until this exact moment, with Jeonghan sitting next to her, arm slung lazily around her shoulders— that she realized what it was.
Luna wasn’t jealous.
She had never been jealous.
As she sat there, Jeonghan’s presence steady beside her, watching the other trainees continue to fool around, Luna’s mind whirred with realization.
Luna didn’t want to be Seoyeon, just like she hadn’t wanted to be Mila all those years ago. She had no desire to trade places with them, to be in their shoes.
That wasn’t the problem at all.
No, what bothered her— what had always bothered her— was seeing someone else take what was hers. Watching them try to claim something that belonged to her, something she held dear.
It wasn’t envy.
It was never about wanting what someone else had.
It was about protecting what was already hers.
Jeonghan gave her a knowing glance, his arm tightening slightly around her shoulders, and that was all it took.
In that moment, Luna understood.
The shadow she had known since she was a child wasn’t jealousy.
Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours.
Possessiveness, however, was not wanting anyone to take what already belonged to you.
And Luna was possessive.
If jealousy is an ugly green friend, Luna’s friend was possessiveness, a quiet shadow, always hovering close, guarding fiercely and pulling tightly at whatever it holds dear.
Possessiveness.
The word tasted bitter in Luna’s mind, like something dark and twisted that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.
She despised it.
Even the sound of it in her thoughts made her skin crawl.
Possess.
It was a word meant for things— objects, items you could hold, keep, or claim as your own.
But not people.
People weren’t possessions.
They weren’t things you could control, own, or dictate.
And yet, she felt it— deeply.
From time to time, that ugly shadow would wrap its fingers around her chest, tightening with every breath until she felt suffocated by it.
It was a feeling she had grown to hate.
Luna didn’t want to possess anyone.
She never wanted to be the kind of person who clung to someone so tightly that it hurt.
People weren’t objects to own. They had their own lives, their own choices, their own freedom. And yet, the shadow— her shadow— didn’t care about that. It didn’t care about logic or reason. It only cared about keeping what was hers close, about holding on so fiercely that no one else could ever take it away.
Luna hated it.
She found it toxic, the way it crept up on her, curling around her like smoke, impossible to escape. There were moments when the feeling would rise up in her chest like a wave, threatening to crash over everything she held dear.
But Luna always fought it. She had to.
She would remind herself that this wasn’t who she wanted to be, that people were not things to be controlled or claimed. Every time that feeling surfaced, she forced herself to ground it, to bury it deep inside where it couldn’t reach anyone else.
It was her burden to bear.
Even now, sitting in that green training room, the feeling flickered in her veins like an old, unwelcome memory.
Luna could feel it watching her, that quiet shadow, as Jeonghan laughed with someone else, as his hand touched someone else.
But she didn’t act on it. She never did. What would be the point?
Jeonghan wasn’t hers, not in the way that word implied. He was her best friend, sure, but she had no claim over him. No right to feel this way. So, she ignored it. She always did. She let the feeling settle somewhere in her chest, a familiar ache she was used to managing.
But deep down, Luna knew she couldn’t control when it would show up. And every time it did, she made sure to ground herself, to force herself not to react. To breathe through it until the feeling passed.
She never wanted to be ruled by it.
Luna glanced at Jeonghan, still sitting beside her, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth was steady and reassuring, but it was also a reminder— a reminder of the one person who could make her feel this way.
Jeonghan had always been the one who stirred something different in her, something she couldn’t quite explain. He was her closest friend, yes, but he was also the person who made her feel like this shadow had more power than it should.
And unbeknownst to sixteen-year-old Luna, at that very moment, the person who would make her feel the weight of this shadow more than anyone else for more years to come was sitting right next to her.
Yoon Jeonghan.
It was him.
It had always been him.
Jeonghan was Jeonghan.
There was something undeniable about him, something that people couldn’t help but notice.
He had the look— handsome in that effortless way that didn’t need to be flaunted. But “handsome” didn’t even cover it.
No, Jeonghan wasn’t just handsome.
He was beautiful.
Strikingly, impossibly beautiful.
His features were delicate but sharp, almost ethereal in a way that made Luna think, God, he’s beautiful every time she looked at him. But that wasn’t what made him special.
Jeonghan’s beauty was simply the surface of something much deeper.
He was naturally easy to be with. Effortless. Comfortable. People gravitated toward him, not just because of how he looked but because of how he made them feel. Jeonghan had a way of making anyone feel seecn like they mattered, like they were worth his time. He was charming, of course, but it was never forced. It was natural, something that seemed to come from him without any effort.
People just liked him, and it was no mystery why.
From their teen years in the cramped, fluorescent-lit practice rooms of PLEDIS to the bright lights of concert stages, from the endless hours of rehearsals to the long nights of sleepless training, Jeonghan had always been Jeonghan.
Their friendship had blossomed during those years, starting as something simple, easy, and natural. And from their trainee days to their debut, to their lives as successful idols, it had been the same.
The bond between them grew and deepened. The long hours spent together, the shared struggles and triumphs, the quiet moments in between it all— it was like they were always meant to find each other.
It had been gradual, a quiet blossoming from friendship into something more. It wasn’t a sudden realization for Luna. It was more like the slow unveiling of something that had been there all along, something neither of them had fully acknowledged until it became impossible to ignore.
And throughout it all, there was that strange feeling, the shadow lurking at the edges of her awareness.
Luna’s possessiveness.
Surprisingly, she realized early on that it didn’t apply to the members of SEVENTEEN, and thank God for that. When it came to them, Luna felt nothing but warmth, affection, and camaraderie. The idea of being possessive over her members felt absurd. They were family, an extension of herself in so many ways. She never minded when they were close with Jeonghan, never minded when they teased or hugged him.
And thankfully, it didn’t apply to the fans either. SEVENTEEN’s fans adored Jeonghan— of course they did. They loved him with a fervor that could only be described as awe-inspiring. And yet, when it came to them, that shadow never reared its head.
Luna felt nothing but gratitude toward them. In a way, they shared Jeonghan, all of them basking in the warmth of his presence, and that was fine.
It never bothered her.
For a long time, Luna thought maybe that strange feeling had disappeared altogether like she had outgrown it— an awkward teenage phase she’d left behind. She thought maybe she had matured, evolved past that irrational emotion, and put it to rest.
Until it showed up again.
And it was always because of Jeonghan.
It always was.
Luna realized, as time went on, that the possessiveness wasn’t something she’d outgrown.
It was just lying in wait, dormant, until the right circumstances stirred it back to life. And those circumstances always revolved around Yoon Jeonghan.
Even before they were officially together, Luna would noticed it.
Little moments that seemed harmless on the surface, but made that old familiar feeling stir within her chest. New staff members, stylists, random people who crossed their paths— everyone seemed to be drawn to Yoon Jeonghan like a magnet.
Luna would watch it happen, time and time again, seeing the way people gravitated toward him, and how they lit up when he flashed that effortless smile.
And each time, that shadow would bloom out of thin air, wrapping its fingers around her tightly.
It would start in her chest, a subtle tightening she tried to ignore. But then, she’d feel her face flush, heat creeping up her neck, and her hands would ball into fists in her lap. Her jaw would clench, and that sharp glare would settle in her eyes. She would sit there, watching, fighting the urge to do anything about it, because what could she do?
It wasn’t like Jeonghan was doing anything wrong.
He was just being Jeonghan.
But every time someone flirted with him— especially when it was right in front of her— that shadow flared, dark and consuming.
And it only got worse once they were officially together.
Once Jeonghan became hers in the way that mattered, the possessiveness grew more potent, more intense.
Luna had always prided herself on being rational, on keeping her emotions in check. But when it came to Jeonghan, there were moments when that possessiveness felt like it might consume her whole.
It wasn’t the members. She was perfectly fine with them. They were family. She trusted them with everything, including Jeonghan. And the fans— she never felt threatened by their love for him. They were a part of their lives, an integral part, and she shared in their adoration of him.
But when it came to other people— people who didn’t know him like she did, people who only saw him as that beautiful, charming idol— Luna could feel that shadow rise up in her like a wave, ready to crash down and smother everything in its path.
The new staff who whispered about him, the random stylist with a too-long gaze, the brief interactions with people who clearly had crushes on him— it all drove her insane.
And Jeonghan
 Jeonghan, being the person he was, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did notice, and he simply didn’t care. He’d smile that lazy, mischievous smile, charm them without even meaning to, and Luna would sit there, her blood simmering beneath the surface.
Luna hated it.
She hated the way it made her feel, the way her emotions spiraled out of control when it came to him.
Because it wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy. Jealousy was wanting something that wasn’t yours. Luna didn’t want what she didn’t have.
She just didn’t want anyone else to have what was already hers.
When other people gawked at Jeonghan, whispered about him, had crushes on him, and flirted with him—especially when she was right there— Luna felt like she could lose it.
The shadow inside her, that friend she’d grown so familiar with, would flare to life, ready to guard what was hers, to protect it fiercely from anyone who dared come too close.
She wasn’t jealous. She was possessive. And there was a difference.
Jeonghan was hers, and no one else’s.
Luna hated thinking this way.
She despised the possessiveness that clawed at her insides, wrapping around her chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.
It wasn’t who she wanted to be.
She didn’t want to be the kind of person who felt like she had to hold onto someone so tightly as if they might slip away if she let go for even a second.
People weren’t possessions, least of all Jeonghan. She knew that. She reminded herself of it constantly. He’s not an object. He’s not your property.
But despite her best efforts, that gnawing feeling never truly left.
Every time someone got too close to Jeonghan, every time someone lingered in conversation with him a little too long, every time eyes wandered over his beautiful face and easy smile, Luna felt it stir again. And God, she hated it. She hated that it made her feel this way, irrational and out of control.
And yet, no matter how hard Luna tried to mask it, to suppress it, she could tell— Jeonghan could tell.
Jeonghan always knew.
He could read her like a book, his favorite book, in fact.
Luna could see it in the way his eyes would find hers when she was glaring at whoever had decided to flirt with him.
He never looked surprised or confused. No, Jeonghan knew exactly what she was feeling, and even more, he enjoyed it.
That was the thing about Jeonghan.
He was a mischievous tease to the core, always playing around with people, always stirring up trouble just to see what would happen. He enjoyed the chase, the thrill, the challenge.
And Luna? She was his favorite challenge.
Of course, Jeonghan wasn’t doing it on purpose— not in the way that would hurt her.
He wasn’t cruel— he loves her too much.
He would never actually flirt with someone else to provoke her or make her feel insecure. He wouldn’t do that to her, and Luna knew that deep down. But there was something about the way he reveled in her possessiveness, in the way she reacted to it, that made her blood boil even more.
Whenever that familiar tension rose between them, whenever she was on the verge of snapping, Jeonghan would always, without fail, baby her. He’d get more clingy, more affectionate, more of a tease as if he was purposefully testing her limits. His voice would drop into that soft, teasing tone, laced with a kind of condescending flirtation that only he could pull off.
He’d speak in that sing-song voice he reserved just for her, leaning in close with a playful grin, the words dripping with an infuriating sweetness that made her want to both kiss him and strangle him at the same time.
“Aww, is someone getting a little upset, hm? You know there’s no need for that, pretty girl,” he’d coo, the endearment rolling off his tongue like honey.
Or worse: “What’s the matter? You know you don’t have to worry, baby. No one else could ever take me from you,” he’d say, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against her ear, his tone dipping lower. “Only you, baby.”
And then there was the one that always pushed her the hardest, the one that made her breath catch in her throat every time: “You look so cute when you’re mad, you know that? Like a little kitten, all puffed up. What are you going to do about it, hmm? Just glare at me all day?”
Luna’s glare was sharp, piercing through the teasing words that dripped from Jeonghan’s mouth. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the familiar flush of frustration mingled with that damned possessiveness.
His words always had a way of igniting something deep within her, something she despised but couldn’t fully control.
Jeonghan, of course, noticed. He always did.
He leaned down, his lips still curled into that maddeningly soft smile, one hand reaching out to cup the back of her neck. His fingers were warm, and the touch, though gentle, sent a shiver down her spine. He held her there, not tightly, but just enough to make her feel trapped in that moment, in his presence.
Jeonghan nudged his nose against hers, brushing their foreheads together as he tilted his head. His voice dropped to that low, teasing tone that he knew got under her skin. “My moon,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her lips, “you know I’d never get taken from you, right?”
His thumb stroked lightly at the base of her neck, his grip softening as if lulling her into a sense of security. “They’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” His lips were so close now, almost brushing against hers, his gaze locking onto her eyes, studying the irritation simmering in them, the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a snarl.
But there was that underlying tone again, that subtle challenge woven into his words, as though he was daring her to act, daring her to stop pretending she could ignore it. He leaned in just a fraction more, his lips ghosting against hers without quite closing the distance.
“No one can compare to you, baby,” His voice lowered even more, a whisper now, intimate, taunting. “You should show them that, hmm?”
The words hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown at her feet. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her neck, not forceful, but just enough to remind her of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, within reach, hers to hold onto if she wanted.
His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous spark, the one that always set her on edge. “What’s it going to be, Nana-ya? Are you just going to keep glaring at me?” His voice softened, but the challenge lingered. “Or are you going to show them?”
The way he said it, like a coo, like a teasing dare, made her blood simmer even more. He was pushing her, testing her limits again, and he knew it. He was always so sure of himself, so confident that no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure, he could make her unravel.
There was always that underlying tone in his voice, that unspoken dare woven into his words like he was tempting her— pushing her to do something about it.
No, scratch that
 Jeonghan wanted her to do something about it.
He was daring her to let that possessiveness out, to stop holding back, to give in to the anger simmering beneath the surface.
And Luna hated how much she wanted to. She hated that part of her wanted to rise to his challenge, to make it clear to everyone that Jeonghan was hers and hers alone.
But she never did.
Instead, she would just glare at him, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought the urge to snap. She’d take a deep breath, then another, and force herself to look away, to move on, to push the emotions back down where they belonged. She refused to give in to it, no matter how much Jeonghan taunted her, no matter how much his teasing made her want to lose control.
She never let it take over.
Jeonghan knew this about her, though. He could see through her every time, peeling back the layers of her composure with a single glance. She thought she was doing a good job of keeping it together, of staying calm, but Jeonghan could always tell what was really going on beneath the surface. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and he knew, too, that she wasn’t going to act on it.
Not yet, at least.
And that amused him.
Unbeknownst to Luna, Jeonghan enjoyed the game just as much as she feared it.
He found her possessiveness endearing, almost charming in a way, because it was so unlike her usual composed self. It was a side of her that only he got to see, a raw vulnerability that she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
And Jeonghan, with his sly smile and ever-calculating mind, wanted her to act on it.
He wanted to see what would happen if she let go if she stopped holding back and let that fiery possessiveness take over. He wasn’t afraid of it; in fact, he reveled in it. He knew how much it frustrated her, how hard she worked to keep it in check, and it thrilled him to push her just enough to see her struggle with it.
Because Jeonghan always got what he wanted in the end.
Always.
And what he wanted was for Luna to stop fighting it.
Jeonghan wanted her to let go, to show him how much she cared, how much she hated seeing other people fawn over him, how much she wanted to claim him in front of everyone.
He knew she could do it, and he was going to get her there.
He always did.
Then, Jeonghan finally got his way.
It finally happened in Paris, of all places.
Jeonghan always knew how to push her buttons, but Luna had never truly snapped before. She always found a way to hold it together, to remind herself that he was his own person, that she couldn’t— shouldn’t— be so possessive.
But Paris, with its old-world charm, its elegant streets and glittering lights, became the stage where everything came undone.
They had flown out for Fashion Week 2023, the pinnacle of their already busy schedules. Jeonghan, being the brand ambassador for Yves Saint Laurent, was the centerpiece of their show, while Luna, as Miu Miu’s ambassador, would be attending their event.
Their schedules aligned but diverged, each pulled into their separate orbits by the fashion world’s demands.
Everything had been normal up until that point.
Well, as normal as it could be for two idols navigating the storm of fame, fashion, and flashing cameras.
The flight to Paris had been peaceful. The two of them sat side by side, hidden behind the anonymity of first-class curtains, though they didn’t really talk much— both too absorbed in resting in preparation for their individual roles in the whirlwind that was Fashion Week. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a sense of routine, of being used to this kind of life.
When they landed, they were whisked away to separate fittings— Jeonghan heading toward the sleek, moody atmosphere of YSL’s atelier, while Luna was surrounded by the playful and elegant charm of Miu Miu.
They had exchanged texts throughout the day— small updates about their schedules, complaints about too-tight shoes, or a particularly exhausting interview, but they hadn’t seen each other much. The demands of Fashion Week were relentless, pulling them in different directions.
The day of Jeonghan’s YSL show came first. Luna didn’t attend— she was in the middle of her own preparations for Miu Miu—but she saw the photos. Jeonghan looked breathtaking, dressed in sleek black, with sharp lines and an effortless cool that sent waves through the fashion world.
The press and fans fawned over him and so did Luna.
Then came her own day— Miu Miu’s show. It was an entirely different vibe from YSL, more playful and eclectic, but Luna shone just as brightly. She reveled in the attention for a moment, feeling the pride that came with representing such a prestigious brand. But the busyness of it all kept them from each other again, just fleeting texts exchanged between interviews and fittings, always running parallel but never quite crossing paths.
Once their obligations were done, they finally had a few days off together. That was when they started playing tourist, doing all the things they rarely got to enjoy because of their packed schedules. Mornings were filled with museum visits— Louvre, MusĂ©e d’Orsay, and even the quirky and vibrant Centre Pompidou. They took photos for each other, snapping candid shots for their fans to see later, knowing these moments would end up on SEVENTEEN’s YouTube channel as part of their SEVENTEEN Records series.
Luna still remembered the way Jeonghan would lean into her as they walked through the narrow Parisian streets, his breath tickling her ear as he made quiet jokes, teasing her about how her coat looked too big for her— “You’re being swallowed whole, baby.” She had shoved him lightly, laughing at his antics, but the warmth between them was undeniable.
They were just two people, away from the madness of their lives for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.
Afternoons were spent shopping in the chic boutiques of Le Marais, where they wandered hand in hand, occasionally separating to browse different sections, only to reconvene with secret smiles and a few more bags to carry.
They tried on clothes, Luna teasing Jeonghan when he lingered too long in front of the mirror, and he returned the favor by commenting on how she had too many shoes already— though that didn’t stop him from buying her another pair.
It had been peaceful— normal, even— and for a moment, Luna thought that maybe she’d outgrown that old possessiveness. That shadow of possessiveness that once lingered at the edge of her thoughts felt distant. It seemed like an awkward phase she had passed, something she could leave behind in her teenage years.
But she should have known better.
Luna had told herself that possessiveness was something she could overcome, that it was just a phase from when their relationship was new and uncertain.
But now, she realized how wrong she had been.
That shadow had never disappeared— it had simply been lying in wait, simmering under the surface, lingering in the quiet moments between them, waiting for just the right moment to break free.
And Jeonghan knew it, he had always known it. He wanted her to let it out, to snap, to show just how much she wanted to claim him, no matter who was watching.
And, of course, it would all happen here, in Paris— the city of romance, the city that demanded passion in all things.
Their dinner was planned at an upscale restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets. They had reserved a private room to avoid the scrutiny of prying eyes, to keep the illusion of their relationship hidden for just a bit longer.
It was rare for them to have such an intimate setting in public, without the watchful presence of managers or bodyguards. Just the two of them, free to be themselves, free to let their guards down.
As they stepped inside, heads turned immediately.
There was no fanfare, no cameras flashing or crowds gathering around, but Luna and Jeonghan commanded attention just by their presence.
Tall and slender, both of them had an air of sophistication mixed with the slightest edge of danger, as if they didn’t quite belong in the same world as everyone else.
Luna’s long, wavy, blonde hair fell loosely behind her, framing her sharp features, and she was dressed entirely in black. A fitted black top tucked neatly into a black mini-skirt, accentuated with a thick black belt, thigh-high black boots that hugged her legs perfectly, and a long black leather coat that gave her an almost ethereal, otherworldly aura. She looked like she had stepped out of a noir film, every detail perfectly curated.
Beside her, Jeonghan was equally striking, his shoulder-length black hair framing his face in soft waves. He wore a black top that clung to his lean frame, black pants that accentuated his long legs, and polished black boots that added an extra touch of elegance. His long, dark coat fell in gentle folds around him, moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic.
As they walked in, the soft murmur of conversation in the restaurant quieted. Eyes followed them, some openly staring, others trying to be more discreet but failing to hide their curiosity.
A few older patrons, French locals enjoying a quiet meal, looked at them with a kind of bewildered fascination, as if trying to place them in some distant memory. They didn’t know exactly who they were, but there was something unmistakably famous about the two of them.
Younger diners, however, recognized them immediately. A few phones came out, subtle but visible, snapping photos and recording videos, capturing this rare glimpse of Luna and Jeonghan together.
But they weren’t worried.
Their fans were used to seeing them together; they knew how close they were, how often they appeared in public side by side, laughing and touching, their bond evident to anyone who watched.
Some fans were convinced they were dating, while others chalked it up to an unbreakable friendship.
The truth, of course, was the former— a truth that Jeonghan and Luna kept carefully guarded, shared only with their family and the members of SEVENTEEN. They knew all too well how the media could twist things, and they preferred to keep their relationship a cherished secret, just for them.
Luna stepped up to the maütre d’, her expression neutral, almost cold at first, as she spoke softly. “Bonsoir,” she greeted, her voice calm and polite, her French accent carefully practiced. “We have a reservation under Bae Jiyeon.”
The maütre d’ nodded, checking his ledger, clearly aware of the weight these two held, even without their entourage. As he glanced up, Luna allowed a small smile to break through her composed facade, a warmth that contrasted sharply with her intense gaze, and Jeonghan’s hand slipped to her back, a gentle but firm touch as he leaned in, listening.
“Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Bae,” the maütre d’ replied, his tone respectful. “Right this way, please.”
Jeonghan gave the man a brief smile, a subtle flash of charm that was both polite and distant, a glimpse of the man he was when the cameras were on him.
The staff and patrons continued to watch as they were led deeper into the restaurant, a quiet murmur of whispers trailing behind them. There was a low hum of intrigue from the older patrons, and the younger ones, who recognized them, clutched their phones tightly, capturing every second.
The maütre d’ guided them down a softly lit hallway to a secluded area, hidden behind dark, ornate doors. He opened one with a flourish, gesturing for them to enter. “Your private dining room, just as you requested. I hope you both enjoy your evening.”
Luna offered him a soft nod. “Merci.”
With a final nod from Jeonghan, the maütre d’ closed the door behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the space, reflecting off the fine crystal glasses and polished silverware.
Luna settled into the plush velvet of the round booth, tucking her legs gracefully beneath the table as she took in the quiet ambiance around them. The dim lighting softened every edge, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room.
Jeonghan slid in beside her, his body close enough that she could feel his warmth without even touching. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat behind her, his hand resting on the cushion just inches from her shoulder, his fingers occasionally brushing the fabric of her coat as he settled in. It felt effortless, as if they belonged there, hidden away in their private world.
Luna picked up the leather-bound menu, her fingers running over the embossed gold lettering on the front before she opened it, eyes scanning the options. She was quickly absorbed in the list, flipping through each page with a quiet focus.
Jeonghan, however, didn’t even glance at his own menu. Instead, he leaned in, reading over her shoulder, his chin nearly brushing her temple as he followed her gaze.
“Not even going to look at your own?” she murmured, a playful hint in her voice as she kept her eyes on the page.
Jeonghan tilted his head, the hint of a smile curving his lips. “Why should I? I trust you to pick something good for me,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and lazy, his hand slipping a little lower on the cushion behind her. His thumb brushed against the back of her shoulder, a gentle, absentminded gesture as he spoke.
Luna gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she scanned the menu. “You say that now, but if I end up picking something you don’t like, you’ll be the first to complain.”
He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ll have any complaints if it’s coming from you,” he teased, the words slipping out like silk.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips as she focused back on the menu. “Alright, well
 let’s see. For appetizers, there’s escargot, but I know that’s probably not something you’d enjoy.” She paused, glancing up at him with a knowing look.
Jeonghan made a face, feigning horror. “Snails? Really? Are you trying to test my love for you? I mean
 I’d try for you.” He let out a soft laugh, his fingers brushing lightly against her hip where his hand rested.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just making sure,” Luna replied, a grin slipping through. “Alright, no snails for you, then. How about a charcuterie board? Some cheeses, cured meats
 I know you like those.”
Jeonghan nodded, his eyes fixed on her face rather than the menu. “Sounds perfect. See? You know me so well.”
Luna flipped to the next page, detailing the entrees. Jeonghan’s hand moved subtly along the back of her seat, his fingertips tracing small circles against her coat’s fabric, eventually resting on her hip with a gentle, almost possessive hold. It was casual, natural, the way his touch lingered on her, as if he had every right to her space and she welcomed it without question.
She continued reading aloud, her tone calm and thoughtful. “For the main course, they have a classic coq au vin, which is chicken braised with red wine, mushrooms, and garlic. Or there’s a filet mignon with a red wine reduction sauce. I think you’d like that.”
Jeonghan’s gaze softened, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against her hip. “Mmm
 I think you’re right. The filet sounds good,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr as he let her continue describing the dishes.
Luna flipped another page, her own shoulder relaxing under his gentle hold. “They also have bouillabaisse, which is a seafood stew. But I’m guessing you’re more in the mood for the filet tonight?” she asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smile.
Jeonghan nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lazy grin. “You always know what I want. Makes it easy for me,” he said, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly against her hip, a subtle reminder of his presence. “I’d be lost without you here to guide me through all this.”
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you’d manage just fine. But I’m happy to help.”
His hand stayed on her hip, his touch steady and familiar, as he looked down at her with an expression that was both playful and intent. “And I’m happy to let you,” he murmured, his eyes holding hers for a beat longer, a hint of challenge and warmth flickering in his gaze.
They exchanged an easy smile, the conversation flowing naturally, unhurried, as if this was exactly where they were supposed to be.
The small gestures between them— the gentle brush of his fingers, the quiet way she explained each dish— were all woven with the kind of comfort and intimacy that only came with time and understanding.
Luna didn’t mind his hand on her hip, didn’t mind his arm stretched behind her as if he owned that space around her. It felt right, his touch a steady reminder that he was hers and she was his, even here, in this quiet little corner of Paris where no one else needed to know the truth.
“So, filet mignon for you, then,” she said finally, closing the menu with a satisfied nod.
Jeonghan’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatever you say, my pretty moon.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with a warmth that made her heart skip.
As Luna settled back, the two of them sat in their shared silence, content, feeling the weight of their secret world cocooned within these four walls, away from prying eyes. For now, they had each other, the food yet to come, and the unspoken understanding between them— one that didn’t need words, just the simple, easy closeness they shared in these stolen moments.
The quiet murmur of the restaurant was briefly interrupted as the waitress finally entered their secluded corner, her gaze drifting from the notepad in her hand to the couple seated in the booth.
Luna looked up, ready to greet her with a soft, polite smile, but her expression shifted the moment she caught sight of the waitress’s lingering stare— one that didn’t even attempt subtlety as her eyes moved up and down Jeonghan, taking in every detail as though committing him to memory.
Luna’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the way the waitress’s gaze lingered on him.
She couldn’t blame her.
Jeonghan was striking, painfully so. His hair fell in loose, casual waves framing his face, his shirt collar open just enough to suggest sophistication and ease. His presence had a way of turning heads, and Luna was more than used to it by now— people stopped and stared at him every day. They did the same for her too, and in most cases, she brushed it off, almost amused by it.
But there was something different in the way the waitress was looking at him, something just a bit too bold, too unprofessional.
Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, a small, knowing smile on his face as he eyed Luna, his expression amused as if he could read every thought in her mind.
The cocky bastard was egging her on.
Luna shook her head, trying to dispel the initial irritation that had crept in, telling herself it was nothing. She didn’t need to let her imagination get the better of her.
It was probably nothing, just the standard reaction most people had to seeing someone as breathtaking as him.
She was better than this, Luna reminded herself. She wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions or judge someone so quickly. Her mother had taught her better than that.
She was a good person, a good girl, Luna repeated to herself.
Taking a breath, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at the waitress, offering her a renewed, polite smile. “Hi, we’re ready to order,” she said, her tone calm and measured.
The waitress finally pulled her eyes away from Jeonghan, glancing at Luna, but there was a flicker of something sharp, a hint of annoyance as she met her gaze.
It was subtle, almost too quick to catch, but Luna didn’t miss the way the waitress’s eyes hardened, the friendly mask slipping just enough to reveal something beneath it. Luna’s brows raised slightly in surprise, but she held her tongue, reminding herself to give the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe the waitress was just tired, or maybe she was having a bad day.
Luna forced herself to ignore it, smiling gently as she started to place their order.
“We’ll start with the charcuterie board,” she began, her tone steady as she listed the items they had discussed. “And for the main course, he’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare, with the red wine reduction sauce. And I’ll have the coq au vin.”
The waitress scribbled down the order without much acknowledgment, her expression indifferent as she glanced up, her attention sliding right back to Jeonghan with a warm, overly bright smile. Ignoring Luna entirely, she leaned in just a fraction, her eyes locking onto him with an intensity that made Luna’s jaw tighten.
“And what kind of wine would you like to have with your meal?” the waitress asked, her voice suddenly softer, more intimate. Her attention was so fixed on Jeonghan that it was as if Luna didn’t even exist.
Jeonghan, however, barely looked at her, giving a polite nod as he glanced at Luna, his silent way of deferring the choice to her.
“We’ll have the Bordeaux,” Luna said smoothly, her tone polite but firm, making it clear she was still there, still a part of the conversation. She offered a slight smile, determined to maintain her composure.
The waitress shot her a fleeting look, one that barely hid her disdain, before turning her attention back to Jeonghan. “And do you visit Paris often?” she asked him, her tone a little too friendly, a little too familiar.
Jeonghan blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, and gave her a polite but hesitant nod. “Sometimes
 for work,” he replied in his choppy English, clearly trying his best.
Luna felt a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement tug at her as she watched Jeonghan struggle to answer. His attempts at English were always adorable, endearing in a way that only he could pull off, and it was something she had fallen for countless times.
But in this moment, watching the waitress’s smile widen with newfound interest, she felt a pang of irritation. It was as though every word out of his mouth only drew the waitress in deeper, her gaze growing more flirtatious, more determined.
The waitress leaned closer, a coy smile playing on her lips as she asked, “Are you a model? You look like you could be one.” Her voice held a breathy quality now, her eyes never leaving him.
Luna clenched her jaw, willing herself to keep her composure. She told herself to let it go, that the waitress probably didn’t know who they were, and maybe that was a blessing in disguise. But that didn’t make it any less irritating.
Jeonghan, however, remained unfazed, his face cool and relaxed as he replied, “Sometimes
 we model.” His English was halting, but his tone was confident, and he let his hand drift to Luna’s thigh, his fingers resting there as he gave her a small, almost mischievous smile.
He was referring to both of them, making it clear that Luna was just as much a part of that world as he was.
The waitress’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of irritation crossing her face before she quickly recovered. “Have I seen you before?” she asked, her tone implying something more, her eyes flicking to Luna with a hint of challenge, as if daring her to respond.
Luna’s irritation spiked, but she forced herself to remain calm. Instead, she simply pulled out her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen as she began typing a message to Seungkwan, her fingers practically flying as she poured out her frustration. She knew Seungkwan would appreciate the gossip, and it was the only thing keeping her from doing something she might regret— like flipping the table.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan turned back to the waitress, his face a picture of casual indifference as he replied in his choppy English, “Probably with her
 my girlfriend.” His tone was calm, almost bored, as he gestured to Luna with a slight nod, his hand still resting on her thigh.
Luna’s fingers froze mid-text, her eyes snapping up to side-eye Jeonghan.
A small part of her wanted to gush over how adorable his broken English was, how proud she was of him for managing to get the words out so smoothly. But her possessiveness was clouding everything else, making her focus on how risky it was for him to say that out loud, especially when they were supposed to keep their relationship hidden from the public eye.
Jeonghan, however, seemed completely unbothered, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he met her gaze, his expression filled with a knowing, almost smug amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he clearly didn’t care about the risk.
It was as if he was challenging her, daring her to react and do the same, all while maintaining that calm, cool demeanor.
They were so focused on each other, locked in a silent exchange, that neither of them noticed when the waitress huffed quietly and left the room, her frustration evident in her hurried steps as she disappeared back into the restaurant.
Luna let out a slow breath, feeling her irritation slowly melt away as she glanced down at Jeonghan’s hand still resting possessively on her thigh. Despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips as she looked back at him, shaking her head in quiet exasperation.
“You know, you didn’t have to say it like that,” she murmured, her voice soft yet teasing, her annoyance already forgotten.
Jeonghan simply shrugged, his smirk deepening as he met her gaze. “She needed to know,” he replied nonchalantly, his voice low and casual, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Luna crossed her arms, frustration evident as she glared up at Jeonghan. “What if she tells, Han?” she hissed under her breath, her voice a blend of worry and annoyance. “We’re gonna get in troub—”
But Jeonghan didn’t let her finish.
Before she could get another word out, he reached out, his slender fingers tilting her chin up with the gentlest touch, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. His gaze was intense, smoldering with a fire that seemed to flicker just for her. Her breath caught, heart stammering in her chest as the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk, equal parts mischievous and reassuring.
The kiss was fervent, searing, filled with a raw passion that took her by surprise.
Jeonghan's lips moved over hers with purpose, a demanding rhythm that left her struggling to keep up. He pressed closer, his hand sliding behind her head, fingers threading through her hair as he held her firmly in place. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in a surprisingly tender contrast to the urgency of his mouth on hers.
Luna's heart raced, pounding against her chest as she surrendered to the moment, her initial shock melting into a haze of sensation. She tried to match his intensity, but Jeonghan's fervor was relentless, his lips guiding hers in a way that left no room for hesitation. His mouth was warm and soft, but his kiss was anything but gentle-each movement a silent declaration, as if he was staking his claim, proving a point without a single word.
He angled his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his lips parting to invite her in, his tongue brushing teasingly against hers, coaxing her to respond. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, filling the small space between them with a dizzying sense of intimacy. Every touch, every brush of his lips, felt deliberate, designed to make her melt under his touch.
Luna's hands moved instinctively, grasping at his shoulders to steady herself as his kiss grew more insistent, more consuming.
Her fingers tightened against the fabric of his shirt, holding on as he continued to kiss her with a fervor that bordered on overwhelming. She could feel the strength in his hold, the way his hands held her close, anchoring her to him as though he couldn't bear to let her go.
Her mind spun, her senses flooded with him-the scent of his cologne, the softness of his hair brushing against her forehead, the heat radiating from his body as he pressed closer. The world around them faded, leaving only the taste of him on her lips, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips.
The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in this intimate bubble, a silent declaration of their connection.
Just when she thought she'd drown in the intensity of it all, Jeonghan's pace slowed, his lips lingering against hers in a series of softer, slower kisses, as if savoring the moment. His hand moved from her face to her jaw, thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheek, while his fingers splayed possessively along the back of her neck, keeping her close. His lips parted from hers just enough for them to share a breath, his forehead resting against hers as his eyes remained closed, as though he were still savoring the taste of her.
Slowly, he pulled back, his gaze meeting hers with a satisfied, almost smug gleam, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he observed her dazed expression. He didn’t let go of her face, his hands lingering, fingers tracing gentle circles along her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
“People will believe what they want to believe,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, each word wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “Our fans
 they already think we’re together, and even if some don’t, it doesn’t change what’s real between us.”
His words were so matter-of-fact, his tone so calm, it eased something within her. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek, his gaze unwavering, steady and reassuring. “Besides,” he added with a little smile, “that waitress? She has no proof. She clearly doesn’t know who we are, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” He leaned back slightly, tilting his head to study her, as if gauging her reaction. “No one can touch us. Not here. Not like this.”
Luna felt her heart rate begin to slow, her body relaxing under the weight of his calm certainty. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to form a response, but Jeonghan was already there, cradling her face as though she were something delicate, precious. His fingers traced along her jaw, then down to her hands, where he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to each one. His lips were soft, feather-light as he moved from one finger to the next, then finally to the center of her palm, where he lingered, eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re too good for this world, my angel,” he murmured, voice filled with a gentle affection that left her chest feeling tight.
His words were soft, coaxing her like one would soothe a child, and somehow, despite her normally assertive, strong-willed self, she felt herself softening under his touch, the tension slipping from her shoulders as she let herself be pulled into the warmth of his adoration.
Only Jeonghan could make her feel like this— vulnerable, small, and cherished, all at once.
She pouted, her lips curving downward as she finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “But
 what if she spits in my food?”
Jeonghan chuckled, a warm, deep sound that reverberated through her, and for a brief moment, his gaze softened even further, filled with a fondness that seemed to overflow. “Then we’ll switch dishes,” he replied, his tone halfway between serious and playful. “Or,” he continued with a slight smirk, his fingers still caressing her hand, “I’ll get her fired if you want.”
She gasped, swatting at his chest lightly. “Hannie!” she scolded, though her voice held no real anger, just the remnants of her lingering irritation mixed with a playful reprimand. “That’s mean!”
His smirk softened, morphing into a gentle smile as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a feather-light touch that was far less urgent than before, filled with a quiet reverence instead. “You’re an angel,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a hushed whisper as he pulled back just enough to look at her. “My pretty angel. Such a good girl.”
His words sent a rush of warmth through her, leaving her speechless, her face heating up at his doting tone. There was something about the way he was looking at her, the softness in his eyes, that made her want to melt, to let go of every worry and just stay here with him, lost in this moment.
As they settled back into their seats, Luna felt an almost tangible shift in the air between them. The kiss had left her dazed, a gentle flush still coloring her cheeks, and Jeonghan’s casual return to their conversation only added to the surreal nature of the moment. She found herself leaning into him, their shoulders brushing, her hand casually resting on his thigh beneath the table.
They spoke in hushed tones, laughter and soft smiles passing between them, as though they were in their own world where time moved a little slower, and the rest of the restaurant faded into the background.
Every once in a while, Jeonghan would reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary, making her pulse quicken all over again. She responded by nudging him with her shoulder, pretending to be annoyed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
When their food finally arrived, it was the same waitress who reappeared, balancing their plates and the wine bottle with a practiced ease. Luna glanced up to thank her, but Jeonghan’s gaze was already fixed on the waitress, his expression carefully unreadable as he watched her approach. As she moved to set the dish in front of Luna, Jeonghan’s voice cut in smoothly, yet with a hint of something sharper beneath his polite tone.
“Here.” He pointed to the space in front of him, gesturing for the waitress to place Luna’s dish there instead.
The waitress hesitated, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face as she looked between the two of them. But she quickly masked it, her expression returning to the same blank professionalism she’d shown throughout the evening. She set the dish down in front of Jeonghan without a word, her gaze momentarily meeting his.
Jeonghan held her stare, searching for any sign of guilt or discomfort, any indication that she might have tampered with their order out of petty jealousy. But the waitress remained stoic, her demeanor calm and unbothered, which he noted with a slight nod of approval.
“Thank you,” Luna said politely, offering a small smile as the waitress set down her own dish and poured the wine. Jeonghan echoed her thanks with a subtle dip of his head, his attention already shifting back to Luna as the waitress left them in peace.
Once the waitress was out of earshot, Jeonghan reached across the table, nudging Luna’s plate toward her with a grin. “Well, I didn’t see any poison in it,” he murmured, his voice teasing, though the protective glint in his eye made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit ridiculous for her earlier concerns, yet touched by how quickly he’d picked up on her worries and how naturally he’d moved to reassure her.
They settled into their meal, casually swapping bites from each other’s plates. Jeonghan’s utensils found their way to her dish as often as her own did, a shared rhythm developing between them as they tasted each other’s choices. He’d lift a piece of food to her lips, his gaze warm and attentive, waiting for her reaction with a small smile. She’d make a face if it was something she didn’t particularly like, and he’d chuckle, offering her his glass of wine to wash it down.
“Here, try this one,” Luna said, holding out a forkful of her dish to him. Jeonghan leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers as he accepted the bite, savoring it with a small, appreciative nod. His hand found its way to hers on the table, his thumb idly tracing circles on her skin, grounding her in the intimacy of the moment.
The wine bottle sat between them, and they poured for each other in turns, watching the liquid swirl in their glasses before clinking them together softly. Jeonghan raised his glass, a playful glint in his eye. “To dealing with overly friendly waitstaff and stealing each other’s food,” he toasted, his smirk making her laugh.
“To stealing each other’s food,” she echoed, touching her glass to his, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her with each sip.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they enjoyed their meal, slipping into easy banter and shared glances, as though they’d done this a thousand times before. Each bite, each sip of wine, felt like a part of the dance between them—unhurried, comfortable, intimate. It was as if the restaurant around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them and the soft glow of candlelight illuminating their little corner.
By the time they’d finished eating, their plates nearly empty, they sat back in their seats, both satisfied and content. Jeonghan reached over, his fingers brushing a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth, his touch lingering as his eyes softened.
Luna’s heart fluttered, a smile playing on her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers lacing with his beneath the table. She felt a profound sense of gratitude and joy, as though every part of this night was a precious memory they were crafting together, one that would stay with her long after they’d left this place.
And as they sat there, basking in the quiet intimacy that had settled over them, Luna couldn’t shake the feeling that moments like this— moments that were simple, genuine, and filled with laughter and warmth— were what made everything worth it.
As dinner came to an end, Jeonghan signaled for the check, slipping his card to a new waiter without a second thought. They exchanged quiet smiles as they waited, still reveling in the comfortable intimacy that had blossomed over the evening. When the waiter returned, Jeonghan handled the payment swiftly, and with one last glance around the cozy, dimly-lit restaurant, they made their way out into the crisp night air.
The cab ride back to the hotel was quiet, but in a way that felt perfectly right. Luna rested her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her hand intertwined with his in her lap, their fingers loosely laced together. They didn’t need words; the warmth of his hand in hers and the faint thrum of the car engine beneath them were all they needed in that moment. It was as though the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the two of them and the soft hum of the city around them.
Once they reached their hotel, they navigated their way through the lobby, exchanging tired smiles as they waited for the elevator. By the time they reached their room, a gentle, lazy fatigue had settled over them, the kind that made them crave the cozy confines of their space together.
As soon as they were inside, Luna kicked off her shoes, the satisfying clack of her heels hitting the floor filling the room. She shrugged off her coat, letting it fall to the floor in an unceremonious heap, before draping herself across the sofa with a sigh of relief. She stretched out, curling her legs up beneath her as she settled back, pulling out her phone and beginning to scroll lazily.
Jeonghan, meanwhile, slipped out of his own coat, his gaze drifting over to her as he hung it up. His eyes raked over her relaxed form, taking in the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her casual posture, the slight pout on her lips as she focused on her phone. He smiled, an affectionate warmth spreading through him as he crossed the room toward her.
Without a word, he settled beside her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently into his side. Instinctively, Luna leaned into him, snuggling up without looking away from her phone, her head coming to rest on his chest as she continued scrolling. Jeonghan watched her from above, a soft smile playing at his lips as he took in the way she fit perfectly against him.
They sat in comfortable silence, a quiet intimacy enveloping them. Some couples might have found this unproductive, or even a little boring, but for them, this was everything. This was where they were most at home, in the quiet spaces between words, in the shared stillness that felt like a world of its own. Both of them, introverted and often easily drained, found a sense of peace in simply being together like this, with no need for conversation or grand gestures.
Luna shifted slightly, curling up closer against him, her body fitting perfectly into the crook of his side. Jeonghan held her a bit tighter, his hand slipping up to run through her hair, his fingers combing gently through the soft, blonde strands. He removed a stray strand from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that was second nature by now.
Then, suddenly, Luna gasped, her body jolting slightly as she sat up, startling Jeonghan. His face remained composed, though his eyes widened a touch as he looked at her in surprise.
“What?” he asked, eyebrows raising as he watched her.
“We forgot to eat dessert,” Luna pouted, her expression serious as though this was a matter of utmost importance.
Jeonghan blinked, and then his concerned look melted into one of pure, unfiltered fondness. His lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling as he watched her, a quiet chuckle slipping out.
“Aigo
” he cooed, slipping into his sing-song, babying tone. “What do we do? Hmm?” His voice held a teasing lilt, his gaze resting on her pout as if it were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.
Luna huffed, still pouting as she glanced back at him, her eyes holding that familiar glint that told him she was about to ask for something. He waited, raising an eyebrow, letting the silence hang between them as if to say, Well?
“You want us to order room service?” Jeonghan asked, already knowing her answer.
Luna nodded, her eyes lighting up with a hopeful gleam as she met his gaze.
Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head at her fondly. “Alright.”
Her face lit up, a beaming smile spreading across her lips as she practically bounced off the sofa, following him to the small telephone on the desk in the corner of the room. She reached for the room service menu, flipping through it as Jeonghan hovered beside her, watching her with that same indulgent look.
“What do you want, Nana-ya?” he asked, his voice soft, playful.
“Cake,” Luna replied simply, her eyes still scanning the menu before she glanced up at him. “You?”
“We can share,” Jeonghan said with a grin, his eyes meeting hers as she nodded in agreement.
Satisfied, Luna picked up the phone, dialing the number for room service. As she waited for someone to pick up, she felt Jeonghan’s presence close behind her, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder. Then, without warning, he leaned down, his head nestling into the curve of her neck as he inhaled her familiar scent, the faint aroma of her perfume filling his senses.
“Room service, how can I assist you?” the receptionist’s polite voice crackled through the phone.
“Yes, hello,” Luna began, her tone polite and measured. “We’d like to order a dessert, please. Just a slice of your chocolate cake.” She paused, glancing at Jeonghan to confirm, and he gave a lazy nod against her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin.
As she spoke, Jeonghan’s lips found her neck, placing gentle, feather-light kisses along her skin, his face nestled in the crook where her neck met her shoulder. She could feel the soft brush of his hair against her cheek, the subtle scrape of his teeth as he teased her with a playful nip. She bit back a smile, her cheeks warming as she focused on the conversation with the receptionist.
“Yes, just one slice of the chocolate cake, please,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady as Jeonghan’s lips trailed lower, his hand wrapping around her waist as he held her close. He let out a soft, almost petulant whine against her skin, the sound vibrating through her neck, as though he was annoyed she wasn’t paying attention to him.
“Uh
 yes, that will be all,” Luna finished, a hint of breathlessness creeping into her voice as she ran her fingers through his hair to appease him, scratching lightly at his scalp in a way that made him sigh contentedly against her.
“Very well, it will be delivered shortly. Thank you,” the receptionist replied.
“Thank you,” Luna managed, before hanging up and setting the phone down with a soft exhale.
The dim light of the room cast a warm glow across Jeonghan's face as he and Luna held each other's gaze, a silent but magnetic pull between them. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail as if he was committing it to memory-the subtle curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes, the way her cheeks held a faint flush that only deepened as he looked at her.
And she, in turn, scanned his face with equal intensity, noticing the playful glint in his eyes, the slight tilt of his lips that hinted at his next move.
"So," Jeonghan began in a low, teasing murmur, "you think dessert was really worth interrupting our time alone, hmm?"
Luna smirked, shrugging in that casual, flirtatious way of hers. "A girl has her priorities," she quipped, her voice as cool as her expression, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "And it's not my fault you dragged me out of the restaurant early."
Jeonghan chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to fill the room and reverberate through her chest. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Oh, is that right? I'm the one to blame?"
She tilted her head back to maintain eye contact as he advanced, her posture cool and composed, though her heart was racing beneath her calm facade. "If you have something to say, Hannie," she teased, her voice just above a whisper, "you should say it instead of just staring."
He arched a brow, clearly amused. "Maybe I'm saying plenty... without words."
Their banter flowed with ease, layered with unspoken tension, each word a deliberate nudge in a game neither wanted to end. As he took another step, Luna found herself instinctively moving back until her legs bumped against a chair, forcing her to sit.
She watched him intently, eyes wide and breath held as he loomed over her, one hand braced on the back of the chair near her head.
Jeonghan leaned in, his dark hair falling forward, nearly brushing her face. His free hand reached up, fingers ghosting over her cheek as he cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing her skin in slow, tantalizing circles. Luna's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her expression softening, her eyes reflecting an unspoken plea. She wanted him to close the distance, to eliminate the aching space between them.
He dipped his head lower, his face so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. She closed her eyes, leaning in, lips parted in anticipation as their mouths brushed. But just as their lips met, Jeonghan paused, his smirk growing as he pulled back ever so slightly.
Her eyes flew open, meeting his with a mixture of frustration and longing, but he only grinned, his gaze holding a wicked gleam. "What's the rush, hmm?" he murmured, barely containing his laughter as he watched her reaction.
She let out a small, frustrated whine, her voice soft but audible, as she chased his lips again. But he leaned back just enough to keep her wanting, teasing her with the closeness yet denying her what she craved. He cooed at her, his tone dripping with playful condescension, "Aigo... are you that impatient, baby?"
Luna's lips formed into a pout, her eyes pleading as she whispered, "Please, Han..."
His laughter was soft, warm, a gentle rumble that made her heart skip. "Now, how can I say no to that?" he replied, finally relenting as he closed the gap between them.
Their lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle-he pressed against her with a fervor that matched the tension that had built between them, his mouth moving over hers with practiced ease. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. His lips were soft but firm, tasting faintly of the wine they'd shared at dinner, and she could feel the warmth of him seeping into her as their mouths moved together, slow and deep.
His hand stayed on her cheek, fingers brushing back the stray strands of her hair as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a controlled intensity that left her breathless. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly, drawing a soft, muffled groan from him as their mouths continued their unhurried exploration.
Just as she was beginning to lose herself entirely in the kiss, her senses drowned in the taste of him, a sudden sound interrupted them-the shrill ring of the doorbell. Jeonghan pulled back, breathing slightly heavier, his lips curving into a smirk as he glanced toward the door.
Luna's eyes flew open, her expression one of dazed frustration as she realized what had happened. She whined again, softer this time, her fingers still clutching his shirt as she leaned forward, trying to capture his lips once more.
But Jeonghan laughed, straightening as he gently extricated himself from her grasp.
"Guess dessert couldn't wait," he teased, reaching down to press a quick, affectionate peck to her pouty lips before pulling away entirely. “Priorities right?”
She huffed, crossing her arms as she sank back into the chair, watching him move toward the door with an exasperated expression. "I regret mentioning dessert," she muttered under her breath.
“Oh I bet you do,” Jeonghan looked back at her, chuckling softly. "Don't pout, Nana-ya. I'll be right back," he cooed, his voice teasing as he shot her a wink.
Jeonghan moved gracefully to the door, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and pulled it open, revealing a young woman dressed smartly in the hotel’s uniform. Her eyes widened a fraction as she took in his features, her gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary, clearly caught off guard by his ethereal presence. Jeonghan offered her a polite smile, his usual charm dripping effortlessly as he opened the door wider to allow her in.
The staff member seemed momentarily stunned, her steps hesitant as she entered the suite with the cake on a silver platter.
Luna, watching from her seat with narrowed eyes, tilted her head back slightly, caught in a moment of exasperation. She wasn’t sure if she should thank the universe for blessing her with such a gorgeous boyfriend or curse it for how every other woman seemed to be magnetically drawn to him. She sighed, the sound soft but noticeable, and leaned back in her chair, arms folded.
“You can place it there. Thank you,” Luna said, her voice polite yet firm as she gestured to the table in front of her.
The staff member barely glanced in Luna’s direction, seemingly dismissive as she followed her instruction but kept her attention fixed on Jeonghan. She set the cake down with a smile that was far too warm for a mere transaction, and as she straightened, her gaze returned to Jeonghan with a coyness that was impossible to ignore.
Jeonghan, sensing Luna’s mood shifting, subtly leaned back against the cabinet behind him, his eyes sliding over to her as though waiting for her to finally reach her limit. His eyebrow lifted in a silent challenge, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes as he watched her closely, a silent spectator to the tension building in the room.
The staff member, oblivious to the silent exchange between the couple, stepped closer to Jeonghan, her tone lilting with a French accent as she spoke. “You are staying long in Paris?” she asked, her voice filled with a flirtatious curiosity. “It is a beautiful city, no?”
Jeonghan offered her a polite nod, his understanding of English limited at best. He caught only pieces of what she said, but he remained courteous, his eyes shifting momentarily to Luna, who sat perfectly still, her gaze fixed on the woman with a barely concealed edge.
Luna, on the other hand, understood every single word. Every subtle inflection, every soft laugh, every lingering glance— all of it rang clear as day to her. She was used to seeing women fawn over Jeonghan; it was practically part of dating him or simply being friends with him. Luna usually had no issues with it, didn’t blame them for admiring what was hers.
But what grated on her now was the lack of respect— the dismissal in the way these women acted, first the waitress earlier and now this. The feeling of possessiveness simmered within her, a dark and shadowy friend she knew well.
The staff member’s next words, however, set something off within her.
“Is she your sister?” the woman asked, gesturing subtly toward Luna without even glancing her way. Her tone was deceptively innocent as she continued, “If so, I can give you my number, and we can get to know each other more. I bet we’d hit it off.”
The question barely registered in Jeonghan’s mind, his limited English leaving him clueless, but Luna? Luna understood every syllable, and as the words settled, she felt the blood rush in her ears, a wave of red tinting her vision.
Jeonghan, however, seemed to sense the shift in the air. His gaze snapped to hers, and there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes— something dark and almost wicked, as if he was daring her, waiting for her to react.
No, he wanted her to react. He wanted her to claim him, just as he’d claimed her earlier at the restaurant, making it clear that she belonged to him.
The woman’s suggestion was the final straw.
“Oh honey, it would take a miracle for him to like you,” Luna’s voice cut through the room, her tone sharper and deeper than usual, each word laced with a lethal edge.
The woman’s head snapped to Luna, her eyes widening in surprise, clearly not expecting such a reaction. Jeonghan leaned further back against the cabinet, arms crossed and an amused smirk curling his lips as he watched the scene unfold, his ego clearly enjoying the moment. If anything, he looked more intrigued by Luna than ever, his gaze holding a fierce appreciation for the fire in her eyes.
“Actually,” Luna continued, her tone unyielding and dripping with sarcasm, “I’m his girlfriend.” She smiled, the expression so sugary sweet it could have given someone a toothache, but there was no mistaking the bite beneath it. “Thank you for going above and beyond as our hotel staff— your service is no longer needed. I’ll make sure that your management gets my feedback on your
 attentiveness.” She paused, letting the word hang in the air before adding, “You can leave now.”
Jeonghan may not have understood the specifics of what she said, but he didn’t need to. Her body language, her voice, and the way the staff’s face twisted in irritation before she huffed and turned on her heel told him everything he needed to know. The woman left the room with her head held high, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving the air heavy and charged with an electric tension.
Jeonghan’s smirk widened as he watched Luna, a low chuckle escaping him as he took in the defiance and possessiveness radiating off her. She sat there, her arms still crossed, her gaze challenging as she held his eyes, waiting for his reaction.
“So,” he drawled, moving from the cabinet to stand in front of her, his eyes glinting with amusement, “you were jealous.”
Luna scoffed, though the slight pink tint on her cheeks betrayed her. “Jealous? Don’t make me laugh, Han. You know me, I am never jealous.” she repeated, lifting her chin. “I was simply reminding her of her place.”
Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound rich and smooth as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. “Oh, is that all it was?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. “Looked a bit like jealousy to me.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, the spark in her gaze sharp and unyielding. She leaned forward, her voice firm as she shot back, “I am not jealous, Yoon Jeonghan. Not of someone like her, not of anyone like her. Do you really think I’d waste my time and energy on something so
 so
 trivial?”
Jeonghan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his amusement only growing as he watched the fire flare in her eyes. “Of course not,” he replied, dragging out the words with deliberate ease. “I must have it wrong, then.” His tone was mockingly thoughtful as he tilted his head, studying her intently. “It’s not jealousy, hmm?” He paused, then added, “No
 it’s just my possessive little bunny finally showing her true colors.”
The nickname made Luna’s retort die on her lips. She inhaled sharply, a flicker of awareness flashing across her face as his words settled, leaving her momentarily speechless. Because as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew he was right. The word “possessive” rang true, and he could see the admission in her eyes before she even had to say it.
Unwilling to concede completely, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a huff, her expression guarded yet defiant. Jeonghan’s eyes softened with an amused glint as he took in her posture, seeing through every layer she tried to hide behind. He lowered himself down, crouching directly in front of her, bringing their faces level. His gaze was warm yet teasing, as if he were savoring this moment of truth between them.
Luna met his eyes, her gaze unwavering, though there was a slight flush in her cheeks. She might have given in this time, but her defiance lingered, a silent reminder that this battle between them was far from over.
Luna narrowed her eyes, though she couldn’t help the corner of her lips tugging upward. “Don’t flatter yourself, Yoon Jeonghan. I was being considerate,” she replied coolly, the fire in her eyes flickering dangerously. “Thought she’d appreciate knowing that she was wasting her time.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying the way she held her ground, the tension between them sizzling with every exchange. “Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her cheek, “considerate or not, I have to say, I like seeing this side of you.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with a challenge. “And which side is that?”
“The side that knows I’m hers,” he replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving hers.
Luna’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her composure, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected her. Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Then I hope you remember it, too.”
Jeonghan’s smirk softened into something deeper, his eyes warm as he leaned down, his lips just a breath away from hers. “Trust me,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Luna raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze unwavering, an amused spark dancing in her eyes. "Yeah?" she asked, her tone laced with playful skepticism as her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him just a little closer.
Jeonghan held her gaze, unflinching, the corners of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly charming way. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly rose from his crouching position in front of her, her arms still looped around his neck, lifting with him as he stood. Their faces remained mere inches apart, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the air.
"Yeah," he breathed out, his voice low and filled with certainty. He gently guided her to rise with him, his hands steady at her waist, and in one fluid motion, he turned them around. Before she fully registered the shift, Jeonghan had slipped into the chair she'd been sitting in moments earlier, leaving her standing between his legs, his hands still firmly on her waist.
Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he tugged her closer, pulling her down onto his lap in one swift motion that caught her completely off guard. She gasped, her voice spilling out in a startled laugh as she found herself straddling him, her knees bracketing his hips as she settled in his lap.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other, her heart pounding as she gazed down at him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck once more. She began to absentmindedly toy with a strand of his long hair, letting it curl around her fingers as a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan leaned back in the chair with a lazy, contented grin, his fingers pressing into her waist with a possessive hold. He adjusted himself in the seat, pushing his hips deeper into the cushion and sinking further into the chair, all while his gaze never left hers.
"You seem comfortable," she remarked, a teasing edge to her voice, but the way her fingers trailed through his hair betrayed just how much she was enjoying this, too.
Jeonghan's grin only widened, his fingers tracing gentle circles against her waist.
"Comfortable?" he echoed, his eyes glinting up at her. "With you right here? Very comfortable." He gave her waist a light squeeze, leaning back even further, as if daring her to keep her balance as he gently guided her hips to move against his with a teasing smirk, showing him how much her little stunt earlier had affecting him.
"How about you, hmm? Are you comfortable?" Jeonghan asked her.
Luna's breath hitched as she felt the hard length of him straining against his pants, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her skirt that has ridden up. She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savored the sensation, her hips instinctively rolling against him in response. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that mirrored his own.
"Not quite," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tightening in his hair. "But I could be."
Jeonghan's smirk faded, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated desire. His grip on her waist tightened, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin, pushing her skirt higher up her thighs. "What do you want, my angel?" he growled, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down her spine.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I want you to prove to me that your mine, Hannie."
He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer, his hips bucking against her. "Fuck, Jiyeon," he swore, his voice ragged, "you drive me crazy. Is that what you want?"
She smirked, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she rocked against him, her eyes locked onto his. "Uh huh. That's the plan," she purred, her voice laced with a sultry promise.
Jeonghan's hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt up until it bunched around her waist, baring her to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, his fingers tightening around her waist as he helped her grind on him.  His cock throbbed, pressing painfully against his zipper, desperate to be freed. He could feel her heat through her panties, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there.
"Fuck, Luna," he groaned, his voice strained as he watched her, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Just like that."
She smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she continued to ride him, her movements growing bolder, more confident. "Your mine right?" she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Say it, Han. Please, tell me you're mine."
Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust his hips upward, meeting her grinding movements with his own. "I'm yours, Bae Jiyeon," he growled, his voice ragged with need. "Always fucking yours. I’m yours, every single part of me
 don’t ever forget that.”
Luna’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she reached down between them, her fingers finding the button of his pants. With a quick flick, she popped it open, her knuckles brushing against his straining erection as she lowered the zipper.
Jeonghan hissed, his hips jerking involuntarily at the contact, his eyes never leaving hers. Luna licked her lips, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling both his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock. It sprang forth, hard and ready, and she couldn't help but admire the sight of him, her mouth watering at the thought of having him inside her.
Jeonghan watched her, his chest heaving as he waited for her next move. Luna's eyes flicked up to meet his, a wicked glint in them as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke that made him groan. Jeonghan's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he fought to maintain control.
"Baby," he purred, his voice ragged. "You're killing me."
She smirked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she continued to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. "Not yet, baby," she whispered, her voice laced with a sultry promise. "But I will." His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, his breath hitching as he watched Luna grind onto him, her blonde hair messy as she leaned back, her fingers tightening around his shaft.
His cock throbbed, desperate to be inside her, but he wanted to watch her, to see her lose control.
"Grind on my lap, pretty angel," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much you want me."
Luna's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and excitement, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. She hesitated for a moment before slowly started moving her hips back and forth faster while Jeonghan leaned back, his hands falling off her waist as he let her do all the work.  Luna's eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back as she focused on the sensation of his hard length rubbing against her clit through her soaked panties. She moaned, her fingers tightening around his cock, stroking him in rhythm with her movements.
Jeonghan watched her, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of her. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through her panties, coating his length.
The friction was exquisite, driving him wild, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel her bare, to slide into her warmth without any barriers. He reached up, his hands finding the hem of her shirt, and in one swift motion, he pulled it off, revealing her lacy bra underneath. Luna's eyes flew open, her pupils dilated with desire as she looked down at him, her chest heaving.
"Han..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Shh," he hushed her, his fingers trailing up her stomach, between her breasts, until they reached the clasp of her bra.
With a flick of his wrist, it came undone, and her breasts spilled out, her nipples already hard and aching for his touch. Luna gasped, her back arching as he cupped one breast, his thumb circling her nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
"Fuck, Han
 Hannie," she moaned, her hips grinding harder against him, seeking friction, needing release. "I need you."
He growled, his eyes locked onto her bouncing tits, his cock throbbing with need. "You want my cock, angel?" he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me how bad you want it."
Luna whimpered, her hips rolling against him, her pussy aching for him. "I want it so fucking bad, Han," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me. Now."
Jeonghan's grip on her hip tightened, his other hand moving to her ass, squeezing it roughly as he helped her grind against him. "You want me to fuck you, my pretty girl?" he coos, his voice low and dirty.
"Say it, Jiyeon. Beg for me."
Luna's breath hitched, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and excitement. She loved it when he talked to her like that, when he took control and demanded things from her. It made her feel alive, desired, and utterly fucking sexy.
"I want you, oppa," she moaned, her hips rolling against him, her pussy throbbing with need. "I need you to fuck me hard. Please."
“You do?” Jeonghan hummed as his eyes darkened, his grip on her hip and ass tightening as he lifted her slightly, sliding her panties to the side before positioning himself at her entrance.
Luna's breath hitched as she nodded, her eyes locked onto his as she felt the head of his cock press against her, hot and ready. She was soaking wet, her panties drenched, and she could feel her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide in.
"Look at me, Jiyeonie. Let me see that beautiful face," Jeonghan instructed, his voice low and rough. "I want to see your eyes when I fuck you."
She nodded, her gaze never wavering as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size, her inner walls stretching to accommodate him. Jeonghan groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.
"Fuck, angel," he moaned, his voice strained as he opened his eyes to look at her. "You feel so fucking good."
She smirked, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper. "I could say the same to you, Hannie," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction.
She began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous dance as she rode him, taking him deeper with each thrust. Jeonghan's fingers dug into her flesh, his grip tight as he helped guide her movements, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Nana-ya," he groaned, his voice ragged as he watched her, his cock throbbing inside her. "You feel so good. All mine."
Luna smirked, her nails raking down his chest, leaving red lines in their wake. "All yours, huh?" she taunted, her voice low and sultry. "Prove it, Han. Fuck me like you mean it."
Jeonghan's eyes flashed with a primal hunger, his grip on her hips tightening as he slammed up into her, making her gasp. "Like this, baby?" he growled, his voice laced with a dark intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
“Han– Oh, fuck, baby,” Luna's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she met his thrusts, her hips rolling against him, taking him deeper with each stroke.
“Look at you, getting all flustered
 my little bunny can’t handle a bit of the attention now, hmm?” Jeonghan's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he slammed into her, his cock filling her completely, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her that made her see stars. “That feel good? Yeah? Just like this?”
"Fuck, Jeonghan!" she cried out, her head tilting back, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. "Yes! Just like that!"
Jeonghan chuckled, his teeth sinking into her neck, marking her as he pounded into her, his hips moving with a ferocity that took her breath away.
Luna's fingers clawed at his back, her nails digging into his flesh, leaving red welts in their wake. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a freight train, threatening to consume her whole.
"Oppa– Han
," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm close."
He lifted his head, his eyes burning into hers, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. "Not yet, baby,” he tutted, his voice low and rough as he stopped making Luna whine.  "Not until I say so."
She glared at him, her chest heaving, her body aching for release. "You're being mean, Hannie," she panted, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He smirked, before lifting her as he stood up off the chair, her legs wrapping around his waist as he placed her on the bed. "Am I being mean to you, bunny?" he cooed, his voice laced with amusement, "But you like it when I’m like this."
Luna's eyes flashed with anger, but he could see the desire burning in them, too.
She wanted this, needed this, just as much as he did. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. She moaned, her body melting into his, her legs tightening around his waist as she ground against him, seeking friction.
Jeonghan broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this moment, of him, long after tonight was over. He pushed her back onto the bed, his body following hers down, his hips settling between her thighs.
Luna's breath hitched as she felt the weight of him, the hard length of him pressed against her, throbbing with need. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and defiance, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
Jeonghan smirked, his eyes darkening as he took in her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, and her heaving chest. "You're so fucking beautiful, my love," he murmured, his voice low and rough.
His hands traced patterns on her skin, his fingers skimming over her curves, making her shiver. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, hot and insistent, and it made her ache for him even more.
"Hannie," she whispered, her voice laced with desperation. "Please."
He chuckled, a low, dirty sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Please what, Nana-ya?" he teased, his fingers dipping lower, tracing the edge of her panties. "What do you want me to do to you?  “What is it, baby? You want more? Just say the word, and it’s yours.”
Luna's breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her eyes locked onto his. "Fuck me, baby, please," she pleaded, her voice ragged with need. "Make me come.”
Jeonghan's eyes darkened, his grip on her thigh tightening as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down roughly. He grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide, and positioned himself at her entrance. She was soaking wet, her arousal coating his length, making it slick and easy for him to slide back in.
Jeonghan's eyes locked onto hers as he slowly pushed into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? Anything to make my baby happy. God– I’m in fucking love with you.”
He groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside her, her tight heat enveloping him completely.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you, my sweet girl?” Jeonghan groaned as he continued to thrust into her. She could feel the heat building inside her, her orgasm approaching like a storm on the horizon.
“Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."
Jeonghan moaned, his grip on her hips tightening, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Come for me, Jiyeonie," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Come all over my cock, baby. Show me how much you love it."
Luna's breath hitched, her fingers clawing at his back as she felt the heat inside her coil tighter, ready to snap. "Han," she gasped, her voice ragged, "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
“I know, I know baby,” He tightened his hold on her, his hips slamming into hers, his cock filling her completely. "Do it, bunny," he grunted, his voice strained. "Come for me.”
And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, consuming her whole.
“Fuck, Han!” She whined his name, her body convulsing beneath him, her inner walls clamping down around him, milking him for all he was worth. Jeonghan groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his hot seed.
They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths ragged as they came down from their high. Jeonghan rolled off her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close as he spooned her from behind.
Luna's breath was still ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. She could feel Jeonghan's cock, still semi-hard, nestled against her ass, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"Fuck," Jeonghan murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice still heavy with desire. "You drive me insane. Only you, baby. Only ever you," Jeonghan told her, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.
She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the warmth of his body pressed against hers. "Only me," she agreed, her voice soft, intimate, as she turned to face him, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Her back pressed further into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart matching her own.
"My pretty girl," he muttered against her lips, breaking the kiss to look at her, his gaze dark with desire and affection. "You're insatiable."
A smirk danced across her lips as she pulled away slightly, just enough to settle her head on his chest, draping herself over him with a kind of lazy confidence. "I can't help it," she whispered, her voice taking on a sultry edge. "You bring out the best and worst in me, Hannie."
Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, wrapping his arms around her, fingers tracing idle patterns along her back. "Well, l'd hate to deprive you of such excellent inspiration," he replied, a playful glint in his eye. "Though if this is the 'worst' in you... I think I might be the luckiest guy alive."
She gave him a playful glare, swatting at his chest. "Don't get too cocky now," she teased, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
"Oh, baby," he cooed, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "I think you're the only one allowed to be cocky here." He leaned down, brushing his lips over her forehead with a featherlight touch. "I'm just here to keep up, give you what you need, and maybe make you a little crazy along the way."
Luna let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at his words, but she felt her heart swell with the warmth only he could give her. "Maybe?" she challenged, arching an eyebrow.
"Fine," he conceded, smirking. "A lot crazy. But only for me, right?"
She settled back into him, her voice barely a whisper. "Only for you. Only ever you."
Luna hummed in satisfaction, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as she snuggled closer, her body worn out from the intense lovemaking.
They lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Luna could feel Jeonghan's chest rising and falling rapidly under her, his heart beating rapidly against her ear. She could feel his lips pressed against her forehead, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
Luna savored the way Jeonghan made her feel— a feeling of belonging so profound that it left her utterly captivated. She felt claimed, possessed in the best possible way, like she was both his entire world and something he would fight to keep all to himself. No one had ever made her feel like this before, like she was more than just someone to hold.
Jeonghan made her feel desired, cherished, protected
 all at once.
She loved the softness in his touch, the gentleness in his eyes, and the way he could melt her defenses with a single word. But she also loved the way he unleashed something wilder within her, something she hadn’t even known existed until she met him. He made her feel wild and untamed, free to give in to desires that once felt foreign, unrestrained in a way that sent a thrill racing through her.
For the first time in her twenty-six years of existence, Luna found herself thankful for the presence of that lingering shadow she usually kept hidden—possessiveness. It was always there, lurking quietly, rarely stirred.
But Jeonghan, with his effortless charm, his mischievous smile, and that knowing gaze, he brought it to life. And instead of shying away from it, she welcomed it. She embraced it because it meant she didn’t have to hold back when it came to him. She could be unapologetically hers and his all at once, unguarded in her feelings, reveling in the thrill of knowing he was hers to claim just as much as he claimed her.
Just as she was sinking into this feeling, basking in that delicious sense of belonging, a sudden thought shot through her mind, jolting her from the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms.
Luna gasped, sitting up abruptly.
Jeonghan’s eyes widened, his hand immediately coming up to steady her, a flash of worry crossing his face. “What?” he asked, his tone laced with confusion and a hint of alarm.
She pouted, her gaze darting toward the table. “My cake!” she exclaimed, voice tinged with frustration as she moved to get up.
Jeonghan watched her, and after a second of stunned silence, he sighed and chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “You’ve got to stop scaring me like that,” he muttered, standing up to grab the cake himself before she could.
Luna huffed, crossing her arms and shooting him a playful glare. “The cake, Han!” she complained, her pout only deepening at his apparent lack of urgency.
He held up his hands in surrender, smirking as he reached for the cake on the table. “Alright, alright,” he said, indulging her with a gentle tone, his voice full of doting affection as he brought it over to her. “Here’s your precious cake, my demanding little bunny that I love so much.”
“I love you more,” Luna replied instantly, her focus shifting entirely to the cake now in her hands, a gleam of satisfaction lighting up her face.
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. “Are you talking about the cake or me?” he asked, his tone deadpan but his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Luna’s head snapped up, her gaze narrowing as she glared at him, lips curling into a stubborn pout. She held the cake protectively, as if shielding it from any further teasing.
Jeonghan chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate coo. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Nana-ya,” he teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I know you love me more. But you’re still adorable when you’re pretending otherwise.”
Luna’s pout deepened, but the hint of a smile betrayed her. She rolled her eyes, and despite herself, her lips quirked upward just slightly.
Jeonghan’s chuckle turned into a warm laugh, his gaze filled with that familiar mix of mischief and adoration that only he could pull off. And in that cozy, sweet moment, with Luna clutching her beloved cake and Jeonghan’s laughter filling the room, the night felt perfect— just the two of them, in their own little world.
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eightmakesonebraincell · 3 months ago
Text
our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom (teaser)
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genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst
length: 1.0k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)
c/w: sweaty ateez (warning well deserved), lots of hurt/comfort, one of the slowest slow burns to slow burn, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic
synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.
a/n: when i started writing this i really thought it wouldn't exceed 25k but here we are :D full fic will be released in about a week and i am so ready
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“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”
“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.
“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.
mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”
hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.
the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”
you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”
“how come?”
the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.
your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.
“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”
at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to
outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”
the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”
san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”
you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”
“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”
you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”
“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”
“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”
he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”
you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”
some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”
they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”
as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.
“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”
you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.
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