#this is soft because we need something soft!!!

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 8 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse » 【note, this chapter contains HEAVY TRIGGERS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE. ABUSIVE PAST RELATIONSHIP. MANIPULATION. GASLIGHTING. DISSOCIATION. CHILDHOOD TRAUMA. PTSD. PANIC ATTACK. explicit sexual content, fem rec oral, orgasm.】

ꨄ words: 13.8k

ꨄ a/n. hello my loves, we are back! this is a very, heavy chapter. pls read the triggers before proceeding and read at your own discretion. i actually cried writing this chapter. i'll see you at the bottom ♡ (art by @/hanamin_0123 on X )

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter → pending

ch 8 // inhale, exhale

Mornings like these make you feel like you’re walking through someone else’s life. Sunlight seeps through the curtains in buttery streaks, and you murmur, stirring slightly under the blankets, the feeling of fingers threading softly through your hair.

Whose fingers? Are you dreaming? Oh well, if it’s a dream, it’s one you’d rather not wake up from. It’s a peaceful morning—domestic, even—and for a moment, you let yourself breathe it in, almost succumbing back to sleep, wondering if this is what normal feels like.

The peace you’re building with Satoru. This life. You let it settle over you like a soft blanket, hoping it might chase away the prickle of unease that had been clinging to your mind since last night.

Ah... but of course. Something is off. And unfortunately, the thought coils into your mind yet again, slithering in before you can stop it—an itch you can’t quite scratch.

It jolts you awake, your eyes fluttering open as the thoughts fester their wake into your mind, but as the fogginess of your heavy eyes begin to focus, the first thing you see is him.

Satoru—propped up on one elbow, looking down at you affectionately as he lays beside you on the bed—fingers brushing lazily through your hair.

“Hey you,” he murmurs quietly. “Good mornin’.”

Your cheeks blush.

Oh. This isn’t a dream. Fuck. Of course. You just remembered that you snuck into his room last night.

Your body moved on its own, and now you’re unsure what to say this morning.

Because Satoru’s smile last night outside the jacuzzi, the one that said—Everything’s fine—you’d seen past it. After all, his smile isn’t just charm; it’s armor. But this time he wasn’t shielding himself; he was shielding you.

And perhaps you would rather convince yourself it is fine. To believe that the life you’re building together isn’t as fragile as it feels—poised to crumble under the weight of the unknown.

Yet, in the stillness of the night, your mind wouldn’t let you rest. No. After saying goodnight to Satoru, returning to your separate beds, most of your night was spent tossing and turning restlessly—thoughts racing in endless circles.

And then, before you knew it, there you were—standing in the hallway, barefoot and hesitant as your fingers brushed lightly against the doorframe of his room. His door was slightly ajar and the faint glow of moonlight spilled out into the dark hallway.

Fuck. What are you doing?

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you needed exactly. Reassurance? Comfort? To hear him say one more time that everything was fine, even if you knew deep down it wasn’t? All you knew was that the weight in your chest felt unbearable, and you didn’t want to be alone with it anymore.

Quietly, you stepped inside, slowly making your way to the edge of his bed. After lowering yourself onto the mattress, you perched there—hands nervously twisting in your lap as you watched him.

He looked so… peaceful. And beautiful. His white lashes rested against his cheekbones, the faintest hint of color blooming there. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic. The mere sight of his expression sent a wave of longing crashing through you.

Without thinking, your hand moved, brushing lightly against his hair. The soft, silken strands slipped through your fingers, and you smoothed them back from his forehead in a gentle motion.

“Mmm…” he stirred beneath your touch, brow furrowing as a quiet murmur slipped from his lips—something too soft to make out.

You froze, hand stilling against his hair as your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you thought he might fall back into the rhythm of sleep, but then his lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened, heavy-lidded and hazy with sleep.

“y/n…?” His voice was low, gravelly, and his gaze landed on you, soft and unfocused.

“Oh… hi…” you whispered. A warmth crept into your cheeks as his eyes lingered on you. “Sorry I, uh… didn’t mean to wake you.”

He blinked slowly, a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Hey… no it’s fine. You okay?”

“Yeah… um. I…” You swallowed hard, your gaze darting down to your lap as your hands curled into the fabric of your nightgown. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

Immediately, his expression softened, the lingering traces of sleep in his gaze giving way to a quiet concern. He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow as his other hand reached for yours.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as the words caught in your throat.

“Nothing,” you hesitate. “I just… couldn’t stop thinking.”

He let out a quiet hum, filled with understanding, before sighing softly. His hand tugged at yours, gently pulling you closer.

“C’mere…”

Before you could protest, you found yourself lying beside him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as his arm wrapped securely around your waist. He shifted slightly, his chest pressing against your back as the blankets rustled around you both.

You felt his chest rumble against you as he let out a sleepy hum, his hand brushing lightly against your abdomen in a slow, comforting rhythm.

“Better?”

Your breath caught for a moment at the intimacy of it all—the way his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his nose brushing lightly against your skin.

“Um… yeah,” you whispered, letting yourself relax into him. “You’re… warm.”

“Mmhm…” his lips curved into the faintest smile as he burrowed closer. “One of my many talents… ‘m like… a human heater,” his words slurred slightly as sleep tugged at the edges of his voice. “Should charge for this, honestly.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, carrying away the weight of your earlier worries.

“Yeah… right. Is there anything you don’t think you should charge for?”

As he considered your question, his head tilted slightly, breath ghosting across your neck.

“Dunno…” he murmured, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. “Smiles, maybe. Those are free… but only f’you.”

You shifted slightly, turning your head just enough to peer back at him. The corners of his lips tugged up into a slow, lazy grin as one eye cracked open at you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” his grin widened. “See? Free of charge.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, returning his grin.

Ah… all your worries were once again melting away.

As you shifted in the bed to face him, you allowed your eyes to fully meet his.

His legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, and his hands slid to rest at the small of your back—tracing lazy circles, lulling you into a calm you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

“And you’re thinking too much again,” his nose brushed against yours in a playful nudge. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You held your breath as your fingers curled lightly against the fabric of his shirt, gripping it for some kind of anchor.

“I… I dunno…” you exhaled heavily. “I just… I’m worried, I guess.”

“About Haru?” he asked gently.

You hesitated, your gaze falling as your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. The silence hung between you.

He’s not wrong… but that’s not entirely all of it.

You’re worried about… everything. About him. About this.

About… us.

The weight of your quiet made something shift in him. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, his hand continued its soothing motion against your back.

“Hey now…” he murmured sleepily. “Nothin’s gonna happen. You’re safe. Haru’s safe. I got this.”

You look up at him through your lashes, and his own gaze was heavy lidded—the striking blue of his eyes softened by a quiet intimacy.

“How… can you be so sure?” you whispered shakily.

“Because ’m me,” he replied simply, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. It was lazy, sleepy, but so undeniably Satoru. “And I don’t lose. Ever. It’s, like… my whole fucking thing.”

You couldn’t help it—the small laugh that escaped you was quiet and soft, muffled against the broad expanse of his chest as he pulled you closer.

“Your confidence is almost as annoying as it is reassuring...”

“See? Multi-talented,” he quipped, and his hand against your back slowed as the sleep threatened to overtake him, but the lazy circles never ceased. “Seriously, though… whatever’s got you tied up in knots, don’t carry it alone. ’m here… always.”

His words settled over, wrapping around the edges of your anxiety. Your cheek nuzzled into the soft fabric of his shirt as you nodded wordlessly—molding your body against his.

“I just… don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never bother me,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple in a fleeting kiss. “You’re kinda like… my favorite person, y’know?”

All the unease that was weighing you down burned away as a warmth curled throughout your body. His breathing began to slow, evening out into a steady rhythm.

Once you felt his hand on your back grow still, you thought he’d drifted off, but then his drowsy voice broke the silence—filled with a quiet conviction.

“I got you princess… always.”

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips.

“Thanks, Satoru…” you whispered as your eyes fluttered closed.

The hum that rumbled from his chest in response was faint, coupled with the way his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you even closer. And in his warmth, enveloped by the steady cadence of his breathing and the solid presence of him beside you, you felt the faint stirrings of peace. Sleep crept in gently, pulling you under in soft, lulling waves, and this time, you let it.

“Yoo-hoo, sleepyhead. Still waking up?” His voice breaks through your thoughts, teasing, and very much awake.

Your eyes snap to his again, startled, and now, you found him smirking at you, propped up on one elbow. His hair is tousled from sleep, white strands falling messily over his forehead, and his eyes—those piercing, crystalline blues—hold a glint of amusement.

“Oh… um, yeah. g’morning,” you blink, heat rising to your cheeks as the weight of his gaze settles on you.

He rests his head on the pillow beside you, reverently running his hand up your cheek. You hope he doesn’t feel how hot it’s growing under his gaze.

“You’re red.”

Well, fuck.

“And you’re staring…” you murmur quietly.

“Can you blame me?” he replies with a smirk. “You look way too fucking good in my bed.”

Your blush deepens, and you turn your head slightly to break his gaze, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“I… just…”

“Was trying to seduce me, huh?”

Your eyes snap back to his, wide with indignation.

“Wha—I told you I couldn’t sleep!”

“Sure, sure,” he scoots closer to you, lips curling into a devious grin. “Buuuut… you were clinging to me a moment ago. Should’ve seen it. Super cute.”

“Tch… I was not clinging,” you protest, pulling the blankets over your body as your cheeks burn hotter.

“Uh-huh,” he hums, unconvinced, growing impossibly smug. “You sure about that? Pretty sure you mumbled my name in your sleep, too.”

Your mouth falls open, words failing you as you sputter, “I—I did not!”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” he replies smoothly, grin stretching into a smirk. “It was quite adorable. Almost melted on the spot.”

Fuck… did you?

Your eyes narrow as he flashes those pearly white teeth at you.

Nah. He’s fucking with you, you know better.

“Yeah right. You’re making that up,” you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder casually. “But you’ll never know, will you?”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, giving him a playful shove. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You snore!”

He scoffs. “I do not snore.”

“You do,” you counter smugly. “Loudly. Like, so damn loud I’m surprised it didn’t wake up Haru.”

His eyebrow rises and a mischievous glint flickers in his gaze. “Ohhhh? Alright, alright. Fine then,” his voice drops low as he murmurs, “you really wanna play that game with me?”

Before you can react, he moves. You yelp as in one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, his hands pinning your wrists gently against the mattress as he hovers over you—grin downright wicked.

“Satoru!” you laugh, squirming beneath him. “Get off me!”

“Nope,” he says smugly, his face dipping closer to yours. “You accused me of snoring. That’s slander. Hate to tell ya, but I can’t let it slide.”

Your laughter fades slightly as you feel his weight press against you.

“Oh yeah?” you ask breathlessly, “And… just what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Perfect?”

Those vivid blue eyes darken, and your breath hitches as he dips his head lower, into the crook of your neck, making your heart flip as you feel his lips press a featherlight kiss behind your ear.

“Hmmm… let’s see… I wonder…” his breath tickles your skin as he trails soft kisses down your throat. “How shall I punish you?”

You blink, absorbing his words as a shiver of warmth spreads through your core.

“P-Punish?!” you stammer breathlessly.

“Mhmm...” as his kisses continue downwards, his hands loosen from your wrists, gliding down your arms reverently. “What did y’think was going to happen?”

His hands gingerly descend down your curves, palms pausing at your hips. You feel his fingers slip briefly underneath the hem of your nightgown, just above your abdomen as his lips fall lower, gentle nips against your skin.

“S-Satoru…” you whine as he hums against your skin, a smirk curling upon his lips.

“C’mon now… you come into my room… crawl into my bed… wearing these thin little pajamas…”

His thumbs rub smooth circles across your abdomen, and you feel yourself beginning to get hot.

“I wasn’t—haaa” the words die on your lips as his hand rises to the curve of your breast, thumb grazing the hardened peak of your nipple through the material of your sleepwear.

“Wasn’t what?” you’re squirming as he pebbles your nipple slowly. “Trying to drive me crazy? Showing up like this… what’s a guy to do?”

His other hand slides higher, slipping beneath the hem of your gown, and with a gentle tug, he pushes the fabric up. His eyes darken as more of your skin is revealed.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb rolling over your bare nipple now, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “Last night… couldn’t see you clearly in the dark, but now…”

His lips follow his hands, closing around your nipple, and the warm, wet heat of his tongue makes your body arch, your fingers gripping the sheets as a soft whimper escapes you.

“Nngh… S-Satoru…”

“Mm… fuck yes, say it again,” he pants, his lips releasing your nipple with a sinful pop. “Say m’ name, baby. Wanna hear how bad you need me.” He switches his attention to your other breast, lavishing it with the same care—licking, sucking, each gentle nip sending another rush of arousal pooling down your thighs.

With a shake of your head, you try to bite back the desperate sound clawing its way up your throat, but as his hand descends lower, gliding down your hip, you feel his fingers brush against your inner thigh and your body betrays you.

A needy whimper slips out as you open your legs eagerly for him, earning you a cocky smirk. It curls upon Satoru’s lips as he nibbles your nipple between his teeth—vivid blue eyes looking up at you through fluttering white lashes.

“Hah. Look at that,” he breathes, flicking the hardened peak with his tongue. “Didn’t even have to ask, and those pretty little legs opened right up for me.”

The pure arrogance in his voice sets your skin on fire.

“Sh-shut up,” you snap weakly, trying your best to glare at him as a flush creeps up your neck. “You just—haaa…”

The words are stolen from you the moment his mouth begins its descent—trailing kisses lower, his tongue swiping down your abdomen in slow, wet circles, agonizingly closer to your dripping pussy.

“Hmm?” His head tilts as his thumb brushes so close to your center that your entire body shudders. You feel his breath between your legs. “Something you want, sweetheart? You gotta use your words.”

Fucking cocky ass.

Your lips part, but you hesitate—pride warring with need, the unbearable ache between your thighs clouding your thoughts.

He clicks his tongue, mockingly disappointed. A pout on those pretty lips—lips you want buried in your cunt.

“Tch. Guess you don’t want it that bad, huh?”

His fingers continue to skate up your thigh, stopping short of where you need him, and your frustration rises—hands twisting into the sheets.

“Satoru—” your hips buck involuntarily, but he tuts softly, pulling his hand away just enough to leave you aching for it.

“Mm-mm.” His voice is smooth, cruel in its amusement. “I told you, princess. Use your words.”

Your jaw tightens, nails biting into the sheets as your body trembles with need.

“You are insufferable and so fucking unfair.”

A low sinful laugh rumbles through his chest as he turns his head to your thigh, trailing gentle kisses slowly up to your pussy.

“Unfair?” he echoes as his nose ghosts dangerously over your soaked panties.

He inhales, eyes momentarily slipping shut as he takes in the sweet scent of you. And Jesus, he groans. Actually groans. Like he’s drunk on you.

Your body jerks, hips shifting impatiently under him, but he doesn’t give in. Not yet.

Instead, he arches a brow, looking up at you with that infuriatingly smug expression as he presses a fleeting kiss to your clothed core, making a violent shudder roll through you as the soft hum of his satisfaction vibrates against your heat.

“You said you wanted to savor me, didn’t you?” His lips drag slowly back up your inner thigh, teasing, taunting.

You’re pouting now, glaring down at him like you want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, and he just chuckles, shaking his head.

“Well?”

“What, expecting me to beg?”

“Tch… stubborn girl…”

His mouth finds its way back to the soaked fabric, and this time, he presses his tongue against it, mouthing at your cunt through your panties. A desperate cry slips past your lips as your head falls back—pussy dripping. His smirk falters.

Fuck, he wants to bury his face in your cunt.

Now he’s the one struggling. You feel his fingers press into your thigh harder, nails biting into flesh, and as he pulls back, eyeing the dark, damp patch of fabric clinging to you.

"Fuck, baby…" His fingers skim slowly over the outline of your soaked folds—his hardening cock twitching in his sweats at the realization. "God… you’re fucking drenched."

You continue to bite your lip, fighting back the needy whimper that is desperate to slip out. His head tilts, shifting into something darker as he looks up at you with those ocean-blue eyes—dilated, raw and starved. God you could get lost in those eyes.

But then, that smug ass grin returns.

“All this? Just f’me?”

“Satoru…” you whine.

He clicks his tongue, resting his cheek against your thigh as he looks up at you affectionately.

“Fair’s fair, baby. I’m gonna savor you. Now then, my pretty girl… what do you want?”

Asshole. He’s playing you. And you want to resist. You really do. But you’re so fucking wet, so aching, so unbearably needy for him. Another breath shudders out of you, and as your voice breaks, your resolve snaps.

“Satoru… please—”

There’s that word. His grin shoots up, something dark and hungry flashing across his face.

“Oh?” His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “Please what baby? Be specific.”

Fucking hell. You’re losing it.

“Jesus, fuck. Touch me,” you gasp, finally breaking. “Fuck, please Satoru—just touch me already.  Want you—eep!”

Before you can even breathe, he’s ripping your panties down, shoving your thighs wide open, spreading your needy, dripping cunt out for him to see as he curses under his breath. His restraint snaps and oh, he’s wrecked. A filthy groan slips from his lips as he admires you, laid out for him—his cock twitching violently at the sight.

"Look at this perfect little pussy," he groans, and you mewl as he presses two fingers to your soaked folds, just barely parting them as he spreads your slick between his fingers in awe. “Heh… so fucking wet. Your little cunt is just begging to be filled, isn’t it?”

As he circles the rim of your sex, your body clenches needily around nothing, making another whine escape you as your thighs threaten to snap shut—but he grips them firmly, keeping you spread.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Let me see you. Fuck, look at you," he watches transfixed as his finger presses in—just barely the tip sinking inside before pulling back.

You can feel your slick glistening down your thighs, and you shudder, back arching, voice quaking as he finally sinks his long, thick finger fully inside.

“Ahhh—Satoru!”

A downright dangerous smirk stretches across his lips as he begins to stretch you.

"Mmn… fuck, you feel so tight," your spongey walls grip him as he slowly twists his finger inside, your arousal dripping down his knuckles.

And he’s utterly transfixed, his cock throbbing against the mattress where he lays—watching you take it. He releases a shuddering breath as he shifts, gripping your thighs as he presses you forward, keeping you pinned.

"Greedy fucking hole...” he groans, eyes glued to where you're clenching around him, pumping into your pussy with slow, deep thrusts. “Wanna stuff this hungry little cunt so fucking full..."

The moment he curls his finger just right—dragging against that perfect spot, you cry out.

"Ahhh... ah ahhh... ‘toru... nngh...please… more."

There’s that pretty little word again. His eyes flick up to your face, and he’s relishing in this—you—blushing, panting, watching him with an expression that absolutely wrecks him. Licking his lips, he exhales harshly, leaning forward.

“Good girl, begging so sweet f’me.”

You feel his hot breath fanning against your core, and your thighs tremble as he ghosts those glossy lips over your slick folds—teasing you with the contact you desperately crave.

The moment his pink tongue flicks out, he groans—licking a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance up to your throbbing clit, making your whole-body jerk. A sharp cry rips from your throat as he hums against your cunt.

“Fuck…” he pants, licking and curling his finger in tandem now, “nngh… taste better than I imagined.”

His grip slides lower, kneading your ass before he yanks you closer, burying himself deeper between your thighs. The sudden force makes you yelp, but the sound quickly dissolves into a whimper as his mouth wraps about your clit—curling, flicking, savoring every drop of arousal dripping onto his lips.

“S-Sator… nnngh… fuck.”

You see stars, squirming and trembling around his face as his tongue accompanies his finger— delving deep into your tight hole. His hips rut involuntarily against the bed, cock straining unbearably in his sweats as precum leaks through the fabric.

“Mmm...” he hums against you, a sinful smirk curling as he drags his tongue up your slit again, slow and deliberate. “Fuck yes… wanna drown in your cunt.”

He’s back on you voraciously, low hungry moans mixing with the wet noises of your pussy. You pant, looking down at him and oh, he’s ravenous. His face buries between your legs as those blue eyes flick up through messy white lashes, drinking in the way you writhe for him.

And writhing for him you are. Satoru is loving it—seeing your face flushed a pretty pink, panting, your breasts heaving as you shudder against him.

“Haaa—look at you,” he pulls back, flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit now. “Heh… wanna make you squirm and shake until you're nothing but an incoherent mess, beggin’ for my cock."

You’re squirming now, eyes fluttering shut as your clint tingles from the rising pressure building within your tummy. But as you feel his second finger slip into your cunt, your eyes snap open and a desperate sob breaks from your lips. You were so close.

"Ohmygod—Satoru, please—"

He hums in amusement, lapping at your sweet essence. "Haaa... I dunno… maybe I'll grant you what you want, pretty girl,” he’s panting now, scissoring your cunt fervently between each filthy word. “Stuff your needy little hole with my thick, hard cock until you can't take any more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

Your voice is barely coherent now, broken between ragged gasps and desperate whimpers. “Yes… yes… wan’ you ‘toru… m’close…”

Desperate to grip onto something, your fingers find purchase on his hair, slipping through the soft white strands as you pull him close, shamelessly grinding yourself on his pretty face, clenching against him as your arousal coats his lips.

“Mmmngh…” Satoru groans against your cunt, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you use his mouth. His cock throbs eagerly against the mattress as he devours you like a man starved.

Fuck, he's so hard it hurts, aching to bury himself inside your perfect little cunt.

He fully gives in, releasing his fingers to pull you close—wrapping your legs around his shoulders as his tongue plunges deep—fucking into your entrance as he laps up your dripping arousal—nose brushing against your clit as you rock on his face. You’re on the brink of coming undone.

"Haaa... yes, yeahh! J-jus' like... mmnn... that! Oh fuuuck!"

As your fingers tug at his hair, hips rolling wildly, Satoru groans into your heat, reverberating through your core. You look down to see those glassy eyes flutter open, locking onto yours, watching every little tremor of your body as the pleasure wrecks you.

And then you snap.

Your pussy clamps down around his tongue, a sob ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Satoru groans through it, tongue pressing deeper as your walls pulse violently, drenching his eager mouth as he savors every drop of your release.

His cock jerks violently, aching with need as he drinks you down, eyes flickering shut as he hums against your overstimulated clit, prolonging your pleasure until you’re trembling uncontrollably above him.

Finally spent, your grip on his hair loosens, and your hips still as your trembling slows. Satoru gentles his kisses as he eases you down from your high, his hands trailing light, soothing circles on your thighs.

"Mmm, that's it, princess. Came so fucking hard for me..." he murmurs smugly against your sensitive flesh, pressing one last lingering kiss against your swollen clit before pulling back. His lips and chin glisten with your release as he smirks down at you. "You taste fucking incredible..."

As you watch him lick his lips hungrily, you realize he’s still not sated—not even close. Your gaze narrows to the obscene bulge straining against his grey sweats, pooling with precum. He follows your line of sight, eyes dragging down to the tent in his pants before meeting yours again, his smirk deepening.

“See what you do to me?” he pitches forward, and you shudder as his forearms bracket your head, looming over you. “Fuck… want you…” His lips graze your jaw, his voice a low, desperate rasp. “You felt so good around my fingers… can just imagine this greedy little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

But then, suddenly, the bedroom door swings open.

"Mama! The sun is up. Let’s go downstairs and play!"

Oh God.

The air is sucked straight from your lungs as Haru’s tiny voice rings through the room like a gunshot. Both you and Satoru freeze, horror crashing down like a tidal wave.

Thankfully, Satoru reacts first.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he rolls to the side, yanking you with him, shielding your naked body as he drags the sheets up in a last-ditch effort at preserving what’s left of your dignity. Haru stands in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with tiny fists, completely oblivious to the absolute disaster she’s just walked in on.

You slap a hand over your mouth, trying—failing—not to let out a panicked squeak, and Satoru, still rock-hard and reeling from the sheer whiplash of the moment, clears his throat.

“H-Hey, kiddo… uh… what’s up?”

Haru pouts at him, unimpressed. “Where’s Mama? I want Mama.”

“Oh, uh… right.” Satoru laughs, but it’s high and strained, barely holding it together as he tightens his hold around you.

You can feel the mortification radiating off him in waves, and before either of you can scramble for a better excuse, there’s another voice.

“Haru? Where’d you go? Oh—OH MY—”

The nanny—Remi.

She halts in the doorway like she’s just walked into a crime scene, brown eyes going comically round as her hands fly to her mouth. Her sleek dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, her uniform crisp as always, but her composure? Completely shattered. Her face turns a shade of red, one that rivals yours as she sees you and Satoru tangled up in the sheets.

“Oh! Uh—Haru, sweetie—” She clears her throat, trying and failing to sound normal. “Why don’t we head downstairs? Your parents will be down soon!”

Satoru audibly chokes on air, and you feel his body tense beside you. But Haru, ever persistent, pouts.

“But I wanna—”

“I’ll make waffles! Extra syrup! Maybe even some whipped cream—doesn’t that sound fun?” Remi is already halfway out the door, all but dragging Haru with her.

Haru hesitates for a split second, then gasps. “Whipped cream?!”

“Yep! Let’s go!”

And just like that, they’re gone. The door clicks shut, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. You and Satoru remain frozen, your bodies still tangled beneath the sheets, wide-eyed and horrified.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“Oh. My. God.” you whisper, hands flying to your face as if you can somehow will yourself out of existence. “I am never showing my face outside this room again.”

Beside you, Satoru exhales deeply, stretching out like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

“Well,” he grins, tilting his head toward you, “that was fun.”

You gape at him, your mortification reaching new levels. “Are you—are you fucking kidding me?”

He just blinks, completely unbothered. “What?”

Groaning, you curl onto your side, burying your face into a pillow. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Satoru’s chuckle rumbles through his chest as he shifts onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. His other hand reaches over, tugging at the pillow you’re desperately clinging to.

“Oh, c’mon, princess,” he hums, infuriatingly smug. “Worst day of your life? Pretty sure five minutes ago you were having the time of your life.”

Your entire body burns hotter than the sun. “Quiet. Do not start—”

“What? Just saying,” his grin widens as his fingers trace lazy patterns down your arm. “One second you were cuming on my tongue, and the next—”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can finish that sentence. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

The smirk beneath your palm only deepens, and you shriek, jerking your hand back as his warm tongue flicks out against your skin.

“Satoru!?”

He bursts into laughter, utterly shameless, before effortlessly pulling you into his arms. His grip is warm, steady, and one hand slides up, smoothing down your messy hair as he tucks a stray strand behind your ear.

“You’re always so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, dropping into something softer.

“I am not flustered,” you huff, scowling as you bury you face into his chest, grumbling “I am humiliated.”

A quiet, amused sigh rumbles through him as his fingers begin to trace slow, lazy circles over your hip, featherlight, absentminded. Neither of you move, neither of you rush to untangle from each other—it’s a rare moment of stillness.

“Hey,” he murmurs gently, nudging his nose against your temple. “It’s okay.”

You pout, cheeks still burning, as you peek up at him through your lashes. “How am I ever gonna look Remi in the eye again?”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering behind his bright eyes before he rolls them with exaggerated ease. “Baby, you don’t have to,” he says. “Just stare at her forehead.”

You groan, swatting at his chest as you roll onto your back. “You are so not helpful.”

Satoru laughs, deep and unbothered, before tugging you right back against him. His arms wrap around you easily, pressing you close, his nose nudging against your hair. You feel yourself melting into him as his lips brush a lingering kiss against your temple, soothing the heat burning under your skin.

All you want to do is remain here—tangled up in him, forever. But of course, he reminds you of your reality.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, fingers tracing delicate lines down your spine. “We’re gonna have to go downstairs at some point.”

You let out a quiet whine, curling in on yourself. “No. We absolutely do not.”

He chuckles, nosing at your temple again. “Why don’t you go ahead and clean up, hm? We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Suguru is expecting us.”

You mumble something unintelligible against his collarbone before sighing, reluctantly peeling yourself away from him, the cool air replacing his warmth making you shiver. As you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, reality crashes back down on you.

"You know, I should’ve known this would happen," you grumble, trudging towards to bathroom. "You never lock the damn door. It’s like the whole fucking bathroom fiasco all over again.”

Satoru grins, plopping back onto the bed lazily. "I didn’t see you complaining when I had my face between your—"

A pillow smacks him square in the face before he can finish. He yelps, half laughing as he dodges your second attempt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle the damage control,” he says smugly.

You pause at the bathroom door, squinting at him in pure suspicion. “…What exactly does ‘damage control’ mean?”

That wicked grin stretches across his lips, slow and self-satisfied, his bright eyes gleaming with mischief. “It means I’ll flash Remi a dazzling smile, crack a joke, and act like nothing happened. Works every time.”

You groan, shaking your head as you shuffle through the doorway. “Great… I am so screwed.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Satoru smirks, settling back into the pillows with a sigh. He can hear the water running, but it barely registers, his mind still clouded with the remnants of you—your warmth, your scent, the way you had unraveled beneath him just minutes ago.

And then his gaze flickers downward.

Your panties—still damp, tangled in the mess of bedding, glistening with your arousal—catch his eye.

His throat tightens. His cock twitches, still painfully hard, still aching with need.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But he’s already reaching for them.

The fabric is still warm, still sticky, and the moment he hooks a finger around the waistband, lifting them to his face, your scent floods his senses. A violent shudder rips through his spine. It’s obscene. It’s filthy. And it makes him impossibly harder.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles in his chest as his hips press into the mattress, instinct taking over. Rolling onto his back, his free hand shoves down his sweats just enough to free his aching cock. Precum smears against his abs, and the first tight stroke around the thick base has his head falling back against the pillows, lips parting on a sharp gasp.

“Haaa—baby…” he grunts, pressing your panties to his face as he his hips buck into his fist.

His mind is still clouded with the way you came apart for him—the way you rode his face, rolling your hips, thighs trembling, voice breaking as you cried his name. His jaw clenches, fingers twisting in the damp lace, pressing it harder against his nose, drowning in the sweet, intoxicating scent of you.

God, he’s obsessed.

His breath turns ragged, his wrist flicking faster as heat coils deep in his gut. He pictures you—perched on top of him, sinking down onto his cock, stretching around him, taking him so perfectly. His body reacts on instinct, rutting up into his palm, fucking into his tight grip with reckless abandon.

“Nnngh… oh yes… fuuuck just like that,” he whimpers, thick with need. “Baby… haaa… gonna have you dripping down my cock next time—ahhh, fuck—"

His rhythm stutters, muscles seizing, toes curling as pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave. His stomach clenches, his breath catches, and then—

A strangled moan tears from his throat as he spills over his fist, thick, sticky ropes of cum painting his stomach. His body trembles, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the last waves of his orgasm rip through him. His eyes squeeze shut as he milks himself dry, accentuating each pulse of release with a shuddering whine, muffled against your panties.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing, his limbs lax and boneless against the bed.

Then his eyes flick toward the bathroom door.

The water is still running.

A lazy, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he reaches for a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning himself up at an unhurried pace, basking in the post-orgasm haze. His muscles are still tingling, pleasure simmering warm and slow in his veins.

And then he sees them—your panties, still resting on the bed beside him.

He hesitates for only a second before smirking, reaching for the nightstand. The drawer slides open, and with a flick of his wrist, he tucks them inside.

His dirty little secret—maybe for later.

Anyways. Right.

Time to handle damage control.

ꨄ

“Oh! Good morning, sweetheart,” Remi chirps, voice light, easy. “I was wondering when you’d come down.”

She sets a fresh cup of coffee at your usual seat, so natural, so routine, that it momentarily soothes the buzzing in your chest. Oh. She’s being nice. And not weird about it at all.

But then—

“Did you sleep well?”

You freeze mid-step while heat creeps up your neck, blooming across your cheeks before you can smother it. Satoru pauses too, his coffee cup halfway to his lips, but unlike you, he just smirks. That infuriating look flashing in his eyes as he watches you with far too much amusement—scrambling into your seat.

“Oh—uh…” your throat bobs as you swallow hard. “Yeah. I did. Thanks.”

Awkward…

As your throat clears, you internally will yourself to sound as normal as possible, while Satoru—little shit that he is—just keeps watching, just keeps smirking, like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say something that will make you wish for the sweet release of death.

But thankfully, Remi either doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, already moving toward the counter. “Satoru made you a plate.”

Satoru hums, lazily swirling his coffee.

“She worked up an appetite, m’sure…”

Your foot connects with his shin under the table, and he yelps, nearly spilling his coffee while Haru giggles at his suffering.

With a huff, he rubs his leg, muttering “Violence before breakfast. Unbelievable…” His lips drop into a petulant pout. “Tch… I even slaved over the stove this mornin, all for you…”

Your brow lifts, unimpressed, as Remi giggles—setting the dish down in front of you with an easy flourish. The moment you look down at your plate, you immediately know he’s full of shit.

Waffles. Golden brown. Crisp edges. Beside them… flower-shaped eggs? Yeah, right. Satoru doesn’t make flower-shaped anything.

Slowly, your gaze drags back up to meet his, eyes narrowing. He’s grinning at you far too suspiciously.

“You didn’t make these,” you say matter-of-factly.

His smile falters, just for a second, before he dramatically slumps back in his chair, pouting like a scolded child. “Wow. You didn’t even try to believe it… not even for a second.”

You arch a brow. “Did you expect me to believe it? You—making flower shaped eggs?”

“I tried,” he sighs, slouching forward as he cradles his chin in his palm, looking thoroughly betrayed. “But Remi threatened my life.”

“No, I saved you,” she corrects with a small chuckle.

Satoru groans while Remi shakes her head, muttering quietly to you, “Trust me, sweetheart… you wouldn’t have wanted the eggs he made.”

Haru nods enthusiastically, mouth stuffed full. “’toru’s eggs were crunchy.”

Satoru scoffs, scandalized. “Excuse me. They were caramelized.”

“They were burnt,” Remi supplies sweetly.

“They were enhanced,” Satoru insists, crossing his arms.

You stifle a laugh, finally cutting into your waffles. And just like that, your worries melt away. The morning falls into an easy rhythm—the air humming with warmth, filled with the quiet clatter of silverware, Haru’s happy little kicks against the chair legs. It’s simple. It’s comfortable.

Remi moves through the kitchen with practiced ease, topping off Satoru’s coffee without needing to ask, pausing to wipe a stray smudge of syrup from Haru’s cheek with a fond shake of her head. Everything about her is effortless, warm. Kind.

She takes a seat across from you, cradling her tea in both hands—posture relaxed as she blows gently over the rim.

“So,” she muses, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Any plans for today?”

You glance at Satoru before answering, catching the way he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated groan.

“We’re heading into Gojo Corp for a bit,” you say, slicing another piece of waffle. “Got some things to take care of.”

“Ah, work, huh?” Remi hums, taking a slow sip of tea. “Must be nice, working together like that. I imagine it makes things easier… or harder?” Her eyes flick between you and Satoru, a teasing lilt curling at the edges of her voice. “Do you ever get sick of each other?”

Satoru snorts, setting down his coffee with a smirk. “She wishes she got sick of me.”

You roll your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Oh, constantly.”

Remi laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Mmm, I doubt that.”

The conversation drifts easily—small talk about work, about how Haru had insisted on watching the same cartoon three times in a row yesterday. But then, after a comfortable lull, Remi shifts slightly in her seat, her fingers curling gently around the rim of her cup as her voice turns more measured.

“You’re meeting with Suguru Geto today?”

Your head lifts slightly—the shift in her tone catching your attention. Across the table, Satoru’s eyes flick toward her, just barely. So quick, so subtle, you almost miss it.

“Mhm...” you nod, hesitating slightly. “That’s right.”

Remi exhales, shaking her head.

“That’s gotta be tough…” she swirls her tea absentmindedly, watching the liquid move. “The custody case, I mean… he’s got his work cut out for him.”

Your grip tightens slightly around your fork—there’s nothing inherently off about what she’s saying, but still… the reminder sends a ripple of unease through your chest. Maybe it’s the weight of the case itself, or maybe it’s just the exhaustion that comes with constantly thinking about it. You’re not sure.

“He’s exceptional,” Satoru says smoothly, matter-of-factly. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. “There’s no one else I’d trust more than him with this case.”

Remi hums, nodding, but she doesn’t quite meet your gaze right away. “Of course,” she murmurs, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I just mean—it must be a lot for you to deal with. I hope things go smoothly. It’s good that you have someone like him in your corner.”

The warmth in her voice should be comforting, right? Why aren’t you comforted? You find yourself nodding, but the weight of her words begins to bury you. Satoru eyes flick to you as he catches onto your unease. Tilting his head slightly, he studies Remi before immediately shifting gears.

“Remi,” he says, tapping a finger against his plate. “Could you grab some more syrup? Pretty sure I saw it in the cabinet earlier.”

“Oh! Of course,” she chirps, setting her tea down and rising to her feet as she moves toward the pantry.

The moment her back is turned, Satoru leans slightly toward you, his voice dropping just above a whisper. “Don’t let it get to you,” he murmurs, warmth curling around the shell of your ear. “Remember? I got you… always.”

His fingers ghost over your knee beneath the table, brief but grounding, and as you blink up at him, something in the way he’s looking at you—steady, certain—eases the tightness in your chest.

“Yeah…” you whisper, returning his soft smile while your hand settles over his, offering a reassuring squeeze.

But from the corner of your eye, you catch it—Remi, standing by the counter, fingers lingering over the syrup bottle.

…a pause?

Then, so seamlessly it’s almost unnoticeable, she picks it up and turns back around—expression easy, light, slipping back into place like nothing happened.

"So,” she says cheerfully, placing the syrup in front of Satoru before settling back into her seat. “What time do you think you’ll be back? Just wondering if Haru will need dinner before you get home."

The question is innocent. Logical, even. It makes perfect sense for her to ask. And yet—

Something about it feels… off?

No. Perhaps you’re imagining it. Maybe you’re just on edge. Overthinking things.

After all, Remi is kind.

ꨄ

“Every time I walk in here, I think it can’t possibly get worse,” Suguru mutters, loosening his tie as he sinks into one of the chairs opposite Satoru’s desk. “And yet, you continue to outdo yourself.”

Your gaze sweeps over the office, and you find yourself reluctantly agreeing. The space is massive, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sprawling, ridiculous view of the Tokyo skyline. It looks professional, should feel professional—but the illusion is broken the second you take in the state of the room.

Satoru’s desk is buried under a chaotic mess of papers, some crumpled, others half-stacked, as if he had started to organize them before giving up halfway. A small dish of candy sits beside the keyboard, its contents long gone, save for the sea of discarded wrappers. Against the far wall, an obnoxiously comfortable-looking leather couch sits, one you know has seen more of Satoru’s midday naps than actual work.

And then, there’s the final touch—Suguru gestures toward the golf club leaning against the bookshelf, his brow arching.

“You don’t even play golf.”

Satoru barely glances up from where he’s lazily spinning in his chair, a smug grin curling his lips.

“It’s for decoration.”

Suguru groans, rolling his eyes as he tries to make room for his documents on the desk. You sigh, already moving to help, straightening the mess with quick, practiced hands.

"Everything in this office is for decoration,” you mutter, stacking papers into an organized pile before flicking your gaze to Satoru. “Including you.”

Satoru is pleased—gasping dramatically as he places a hand over his heart.

“Oh? So you admit I enhance the ambiance?” His smirk is all teeth. “Always knew I was a statement piece. Finally, my wife admits I’m nice to look at.”

You roll your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah… that’s not what I said.”

Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbows on the desk, vivid blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Mmm, no, but it’s what you meant.”

Suguru doesn’t even look up from his folder. “I know what she meant.” Then, flipping a page, he glances at you. “Lemme guess. He makes you do all the work?”

“Yup.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, unimpressed, before turning his unimpressed stare on Satoru. The man, unbothered as ever, leans back in his chair, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.

“What?” Satoru says, unabashed. “I’ve always loved her work ethic. It’s inspiring, really. Besides, delegation is the mark of true corporate genius. You wouldn’t understand, Suguru.”

Suguru levels him with a flat stare, then tilts his head toward the far end of the office.

“Oh yeah? And tell me, how exactly does a gumball machine contribute to your corporate genius? Or is that also for decoration.”

You follow his gaze toward the bright red gumball machine standing proudly in the corner, positioned beside a sleek espresso maker.

“Oh, that?” Satoru grins like he’s just been waiting for someone to ask. “That’s for morale.”

You scoff, cutting Suguru a knowing look before shaking your head. “I hate that I kind of believe that…” you mutter under your breath.

Suguru exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging a hand down his face. There’s a tired sort of patience in his movements, like he’s been through this song and dance too many times before.

“Right…” he mutters, shaking his head. “I swear you designed this office specifically to avoid working.”

Satoru’s grin only stretches wider, unabashed. “Exactly.” He props his feet up on the desk, reclining with the ease of a man without a single real responsibility.

Suguru gives him a flat look. Then, with a quiet thud, he slides a thick folder onto the desk.

“Well… not today.”

The energy in the room shifts. Satoru’s gaze flicks to you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening as he drops his feet back to the floor. You straighten slightly in your seat as Suguru clicks his pen, tone all business now.

“Alright. Custody battles always boil down to one thing—what’s in the best interest of the child.” His eyes flick between you and Satoru as he flips through his notes. “The court isn’t concerned with what either parent wants. They’re focused on stability, consistency, and overall well-being for Haru.”

You nod, but there’s a pressure settling in your chest. You already know what’s best for Haru—being here, with you, with Satoru. She barely even knows Naoya. The idea of a judge, a complete stranger, making that decision for her makes your stomach twist.

Suguru’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “First things first,” he says, flipping to another section of his notes. “We need to establish parental involvement. Has Naoya been active in Haru’s life at all?”

“No,” you don’t hesitate.

Suguru doesn’t look surprised, but his gaze lifts slightly, assessing. “Never?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together.

"He didn’t want to be involved," you say quietly. "I tried… but it was like pulling teeth just to get him to acknowledge her, especially before we separated. It wasn’t until I filed for child support that he started using her as a tool, and he kept delaying the court date, always coming up with some excuse.”

“Oh?” Suguru’s brows lift slightly. “You filed for child support? When was that?”

“Um… about a year ago.” Your fingers fidget in your lap. “Shortly after I left him.”

There’s a pause as Suguru jots something down. His expression remains neutral, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes, a calculating edge as he pieces together the information.

Then, as casually as ever, he asks, “And how did he react? When you left him?”

ꨄ

Dinner was plated, still steaming.

You had made his favorite—teriyaki salmon, perfectly seared, a side of rice, miso soup. You had set the table, poured him a drink. Everything was in its place, arranged to look as normal as possible.

But it wasn’t normal. The packed bags by the door gave everything away.

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made your ears ring. Haru sat on the floor, cross-legged, focused on her blocks. Her little hands moved diligently, stacking each one with careful precision, humming to herself—untouched by the weight pressing down on your chest. When the tower inevitably toppled, the wooden blocks clattered against the floor, breaking the silence for only a moment before fading back into stillness.

Your palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter; fingers splayed against the cool surface as you tried to steady yourself. Any minute now. Any minute now.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as Naoya stepped inside. The keys in his hand clinked as he set them on the entry table. Exhaling, he rustled his hair as his gaze swept across the apartment, moving from the dinner waiting on the carefully set table until suddenly, he froze—eyes narrowing as they landed on the bags.

For a second, there was nothing. No words. No movement. Just a long, unnerving silence. And then—

“The fuck is this?”

His voice was quiet. Too quiet—the kind of quiet that had always meant danger. Your stomach curled in on itself, your muscles locking as if bracing for impact. You opened your mouth, trying to summon the words you had rehearsed in your head over and over and over again—but they lodged in your throat.

Instead, all you could manage was—

“I… made your favorite.”

You gestured toward the table—toward the salmon. As if that was the thing that needed explaining. As if that was the thing that mattered. He rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes before striding toward the bags.

“You know that’s not what I fucking asked.”

Grabbing the zipper of your bag, a scoff ripped from his throat as he yanked it open, revealing its contents. Clothes. Toiletries. Haru’s favorite stuffed Pikachu. The things people pack when they don’t plan on coming back.

“You goin’ somewhere, sweets?”

Every instinct was screaming at you to run, run, run. But your feet stayed planted, rooted to the spot as if the very air had turned thick and unmovable. Your fingers curled against your palms as you forced the words out quietly.

“I… I think we need time apart.”

The moment the words left your lips, Naoya barked out a laugh—loud, sharp, mocking. He actually doubled over, hands on his knees, shaking his head as if you had just told the funniest joke in the world.

“That’s cute,” he mused, catching his breath between laughs, his voice dropping into something almost patronizing. When he straightened, his eyes pinned you in place, something unreadable flickering behind them. Something dangerous.

“And tell me, sweetheart—where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Your breath caught, and he saw it—your hesitation, the way your lips pressed together, how your fingers twitched by your sides. A slow, cruel smirk curled at his lips, dripping in amusement.

“Oh,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, you don’t even have a plan?”

Another sharp laugh pushed past his lips—low, cruel, unforgiving. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished. His expression hardened, eyes darkening as his jaw clenched. The shift was so sudden, so jarring, you felt the air leave your lungs.

Holding your breath, your gaze followed him as he began slowly pacing, like he was working himself up. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he muttered, fingers pressing against his temples. His next exhale came out shaky, forced. “You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?”

“Naoya… please—”

“Stupid BITCH!”

The explosion came out of nowhere.

The sheer force of his voice rattled through your chest, slammed against the walls, reverberated through the floor beneath your feet.

A brief silence followed—Haru’s humming stopped. As you stood there—eyes wide, Naoya glaring at you—in the corner of your eye, you saw your daughter stilling, suddenly silent in the middle of stacking her blocks.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, you forced your voice to steady, lowering it, softening it, as if that would keep things from spiraling further.

“Naoya… let’s just talk, okay? I—”

The next thing you knew, a ceramic plate shattered at your feet.

The impact was violent—shards splintering across the floor, cutting through the quiet like a gunshot. You flinched so hard your entire body jerked back while Haru let out a sharp breath from across the room.

Chest heaving, pulse thundering, your eyes zeroed in on the scattered debris, glinting under the kitchen light—sharp, jagged edges that could have easily torn through skin if you had been just one step closer.

“Fuck… see what you fucking make me do?” he muttered, shaking his head as he paced across the kitchen. “You always push me, always fucking nagging, like some goddamn broken record. I give you everything, and you still bitch like an ungrateful little—”

His voice blurred. You were barely hearing him anymore. Your pulse was too loud, roaring in your head as a ringing sound began to drown him out—drown everything out.

"Shit, baby…"

The shift was instantaneous.

You blinked, refocusing, and suddenly—he was in front of you.

Close. Too close. His fingers curled around your wrist—not harshly, but firmly.

“Look, I…” He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before raking it through his hair. When his eyes met yours, something in them was different. Softer. More open, more human.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said, quieter now. “You know I—” He let out a heavy breath, like he was the one suffering. “I love you, baby. So much. You just make me crazy sometimes, you know that?”

The whiplash sent your thoughts into a tailspin. The heat of his palm against your wrist. The gentleness in his voice. Your body screamed at you to pull away, to resist.

But your heart—your stupid, aching heart—

“You don’t have to do this, baby.” Naoya’s thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, slow, soothing. Tethering. “I get it. Things have been… rough lately. I’ve been stressed, work’s been a fucking nightmare, and I know I take that out on you sometimes.”

You swallowed hard, breath hitching, vision blurring as you blinked back the sting behind your eyes. This is what he did. This was how he made you stay.

He spun words into silk, wove apologies into something tender, something careful.

A beautiful lie.

"I'll fix it," he promised, his lips curling into something almost boyish, like he already knew he'd won. "I'll take better care of you, yeah? You and Haru. We can fix this. Just… stay. Stay right where you belong."

For a second—just a second—your mind whispered the possibility.

Maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he meant it. This is fixable…right? Things could be okay if you just—

No.

No.

This was the cycle. The same fucking cycle that had been spinning over and over and over again.

Rage. Apology. Empty promises. Repeat.

You had seen this moment before. Felt this warmth, heard this regret, let these pretty little words lull you into submission. And every single time—every single time—you had fallen for it.

But not this time.

Naoya’s grip tightened the longer you stayed quiet, making your breathing quicken now—shallow, panicked. His gaze flicked across your face, calculating, searching for an answer he wanted—needed—to hear.

"Baby?" His voice was still soft, but there was something sharp underneath. "You wanna sit down with me?"

You swallowed hard. And then, somehow—somehow—you found your voice.

"I… can’t," you whispered.

For a second, nothing moved. Not the air, not the world, not even him.

His fingers curled tighter around your wrist—just long enough to send ice shooting through your veins—before loosening again.

"You can’t what?"

“I’m leaving Naoya. And I’m taking Haru.”

His lips parted for a moment, but nothing came out, until finally, those wicked lips curled into something cruel—amused.

"C’mon now… you don’t mean that," he said, like it was a joke, like you were saying something ridiculous. "You’re just upset."

His hand lifted, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Too soft. Too gentle. Your skin burned under a touch you once leaned into, once believed in.

"You don’t really wanna do this, baby," his thumb ghosts over your cheek. "I get it. Things have been stressful, I haven’t been at my best, but you’re being ridiculous. You don’t have to go and make a scene."

As his fingers skimmed the curve of your jaw, cradling it like something fragile, you held your breath. It’s the very same caress he’d always use after losing his temper—after breaking something—brushing the tear trailing down your cheek, like he was trying to rewrite reality, trying to pull you back into the script.

"Let’s just sit down and eat, hm?" he coaxed, smooth as silk. "You made my favorite, didn’t you? It smells incredible. We should eat before it gets cold."

He was smiling now, gentle, reassuring—like none of this had happened. Like if you just sat down, everything would go back to normal. Like you wouldn’t still feel the tremble in your hands, the stinging heat of his words.

As you opened your mouth to speak, he pulled you close.

"Don’t do this, baby," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for just a moment. His breath was warm against your lips. "Just… be good for me, okay?"

Be good for me.

The words settled over you like oil, thick and suffocating. And suddenly, blinking through your own empty haze, everything became too clear.

The shards of ceramic scattered at your feet. The tiny splinters of glass catching the light. The dining table still set, untouched. Waiting for someone to sit down. As if there wasn’t a shattered plate on the floor.

As if he hadn’t just thrown it. As if he wasn’t capable of so much worse.

Rage. Apology. Empty promises. Repeat.

"I’m leaving," you repeated.

His fingers twitched, then released you altogether. Exhaling through his nose, he shook his head, disappointed—as if you were being unreasonable.

"You’re nothing without me," he muttered.

The words settled like a weight in your stomach, but you remained silent.

His lips curled as his head tilted slightly, scanning you like he was recalibrating, assessing—trying to find a new way to break you down.

"N o t h i n g," he repeated, slower this time, dragging the word out like it was something filthy.

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. A quiet, shaky sob caught in your throat, but you swallowed it back.

Naoya wasn’t finished.

"Look at you," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Pathetic. You wouldn’t last a fucking week without my money. You’re a failure. A desperate little bitch who got knocked up and thought she could trap me with a useless kid."

A sharp breath punched from your lungs, a gasp—small, broken. He could degrade you all he wanted. He had done it before, and he would do it again. But Haru?

Something inside you splintered, something that had been held together by fear and exhaustion and the faintest hope that maybe—maybe he could change.

"Haru is not useless."

The words left your mouth before you even realized you had spoken them, and Naoya stilled—brow arching slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to speak at all.

Your pulse thrummed; your hands curled into fists at your sides. You could feel the wetness in your lashes, the tremor in your shoulders. But you didn’t stop.

"And… I’d rather be miserable than be stuck with you."

Silence.

For once, Naoya was stunned into stillness. His lips parted, but nothing came out. You had never spoken back like that before. And for a fleeting, reckless moment—you felt something close to power.

But then, his expression twisted. Something ugly. Something furious. And you knew.

Fuck. You had just made a mistake.

"YOU—"

Closing your eyes, the drywall beside your head shook, caving in under his fist while dust and plaster rained onto your shoulder.

The ringing in your ears swallowed everything—your own heartbeat, the distant hum of the light, the sharp inhale you barely managed to take as your body locked up.

For the first time, you thought—really, truly thought—he was going to kill you.

You didn’t dare move.

He was yelling now, screaming in your face, his words pouring out in a torrent of unfiltered venom. But his voice was just noise now. A violent storm battering against you, word after word, crashing like waves, over and over and over.

You couldn’t hear him.

Your mind had detached, floating somewhere far away, just outside your own body. Your vision blurred at the edges; your limbs trembled so violently you thought your knees might give out.

Then—through the haze, you saw him move.

A sharp pivot. Footsteps, heavy, stomping toward the bedroom. The door slammed so hard the walls shook. And then—

Silence.

Your body didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The seconds ticked by, stretching into something unbearable, something suffocating. Your chest was so tight it ached, but your lungs kept shuddering, gasping for air.

Then, like a puppet whose strings had been severed, you crumpled. Your back hit the wall, legs giving out beneath you as you collapsed onto the floor—a sob ripping through you before you could stop it.

It tore out of your chest, raw, unrestrained. It wrecked through your entire body, like something primal, something beyond your control. Your fingers curled against your arms, clutching at your own skin, trying to hold yourself together—trying to keep from unraveling completely.

Choked gasps echoed into the emptiness of the apartment, your sobs reverberating against the walls. You sucked in a shuddering breath—trying, desperate to regain control—

And that’s when you heard it.

A whimper.

Your entire body jerked. Your head snapped up so fast your vision swam. The air in your lungs froze.

Haru.

You turned—where she had been sitting, where her tiny hands had been stacking blocks—

Empty. She’s gone.

Panic surged through your veins, crashing into you like ice. You scrambled onto your feet, nearly stumbling in your haste, your vision tunneling as your breath came fast, sharp—

"Haru?"

Silence.

Dread curled around your ribs, sinking its claws deep. You turned frantically, scanning the apartment, searching, praying.

"Haru?!"

Nothing.

Your heartbeat was deafening as you staggered forward, checking behind the couch, peering around the kitchen island. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

Then—

Another small, muffled whimper.

You spun, pulse hammering against your ribs as you followed the sound, eyes landing on a cupboard. A small, low cabinet beneath the sink. The one that had never really locked properly. The one just big enough to—

Your breath hitched, and dropping to your knees, your fingers shook as you reached for the handle. You pulled the door open, and there she was—curled up inside, her knees drawn to her chest, tiny hands covering her ears, her small body trembling.

Tears streaked her round cheeks, her lower lip wobbled, and when her wide, terrified eyes met yours, something inside you shattered.

She had hidden herself away.

From him.

From you.

A choked sob tore from your throat as you reached for her, arms wrapping around her small frame, pulling her against your chest. She melted into you instantly, her little hands fisting into your shirt, burying her face into your shoulder as soft, hiccupped cries wracked through her tiny body.

You rocked her gently, whispering her name like a prayer, your voice breaking as your lips pressed against the crown of her head.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Over and over, you murmured it into her hair, against her temple, into the delicate curve of her ear, as if sheer repetition could make it true.

"I'm so sorry, Haru. I'm so, so sorry."

And that was the day you swore—you would never, never fall back into Naoya’s grasp again.

ꨄ

“y/n?”

The sound of your name pulled you back.

The past dissolved like mist burned away by the sun, fading into the recesses of your mind. The dim, suffocating glow of your old apartment vanished, replaced by the cool, sterile overhead lights of Satoru’s office. The warmth of Haru’s small body against yours was gone, replaced by the unyielding leather of the chair beneath you.

You blink, the weight of memory still lingering in your chest.

Across the desk, Suguru was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed slightly, his pen poised between his fingers. Beside him, Satoru had straightened in his seat, his usual playful smirk nowhere in sight. His bright eyes—always so full of mischief—were sharp now. Piercing. Concerned.

Swallowing hard, you realized your hands had curled into fists in your lap. Slowly, deliberately, you forced yourself to breath—loosening your fingers, unclenching one joint at a time.

"Sorry," you murmur hoarsely. "I was just—" exhaling, you shake your head. "I was remembering."

Satoru doesn’t speak, but his gaze lingers, tracking every subtle shift in your expression, every flicker of emotion. He’s perceptive—too perceptive. Suguru, too, holds your stare, though something in his expression softens.

"I asked how he reacted," he prompts, gentler than before.

Wetting your lips, the words tangle in your throat.

"Not well," you finally admit.

Suguru’s pen barely moved, his focus entirely on you.

"Did he put his hands on you?"

As you hesitate, Satoru’s jaw clenches—hands curling into fists under the desk, knuckles going white.

"He didn’t—" you pause, pressing your fingers into your temples. "He threw things. Punched the wall. Screamed in my face until I couldn’t even understand what he was saying anymore."

Silence.

Satoru exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching before he folds his arms tightly across his chest. His lips press into a thin line, tension radiating from every part of him as Suguru sets his pen down.

"That’s important," he says carefully. "If there were witnesses, records of damage, anything like that, it could help.”

"I… didn’t call the police," you murmur. "No reports, no records. Just… me."

Suguru nods, as if he had already expected that answer.

"And the child support case?” he continues, voice even. “Do you still have the documentation for that? Any filings, court dates, official correspondence?"

You stiffen, and something flickers across your face—guilt, unease, something you can’t quite name. Satoru’s eyes flick toward you, catching the slight shift in your posture.

"I…" your fingers curl against the fabric of your blouse. "I never went through with it."

Suguru tilts his head. "You never went through with it?"

You swallow; throat suddenly dry.

"I filed," you admit, barely above a whisper. "I started the process. I needed the financial support… he shut down all our joint credit cards, stopped paying the rent… kept delaying, making excuses, pushing back the court date. And then…"

Your gaze drifts toward Satoru, your expression softening despite yourself. A wry smile tugs at your lips.

"And then I married Satoru."

Satoru reaches out without hesitation, his hand finding yours, fingers curling around it with a reassuring squeeze. His thumb strokes the back of your hand—gentle, steady, grounding.

"And you no longer needed the financial support," he murmurs, piecing it together.

You nod. "Yes. So… I stopped responding to his messages."

“Can I see those messages?”

Suguru’s voice pulls your attention back to him—something unreadable flickering across his face.

"Oh… um, sure. Why?"

"Because the way you stopped responding could make a difference," he says evenly, holding out a hand. "We need to see how this will be interpreted in court."

A small knot tightens in your stomach, but you don’t hesitate for long. Pulling away from Satoru’s grasp, you reach into your bag, fingers unsteady as you unlock your phone. Scrolling through the old message thread, you hand it over.

Suguru takes the phone, his expression unreadable as he starts scrolling. The room feels eerily quiet. His brows furrow slightly, his thumb pausing at certain messages, and the longer he reads, the more apparent his concern becomes. His jaw tightens. The pen he had been twirling between his fingers stills completely.

Satoru notices. His easy, lazy demeanor shifts, shoulders straightening, his eyes flicking between Suguru’s face and the phone. Your fingers press into your lap, anxiety twisting in your gut.

“What’s up Suguru?” Satoru says. “I know that face.”

Suguru doesn’t respond immediately. His thumb halts on the screen, and when he finally speaks, his voice is careful.

“y/n… did you ever explicitly tell Naoya you got married?”

Your stomach knots. “Um… no…”

A pause.

“Did you tell him you no longer needed financial support?”

Dread coils around your ribs, squeezing. You already know where this is going.

“No…”

Suguru exhales slowly, setting the phone down on the table before meeting your gaze head-on. His expression is unreadable, but the weight behind it makes your pulse pick up.

“Did you ever tell him that both you and Haru moved in with Satoru?”

You hesitate, glancing at Satoru before answering.

“No… um, he… kept contacting me, but I never picked up his calls. I just… ignored him.”

Suguru leans back slightly, his fingers steepled together as he releases a slow breath through his nose. You can see him choosing his next words carefully, and somehow, his silence feels heavier than anything he could say.

Your pulse hammers against your ribs, unease crawling up your spine. "What?" Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

Suguru’s eyes flick between you and Satoru before he finally says it.

“That’s not going to look good on our behalf.”

Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“It paints the picture that you up and left without informing him of Haru’s whereabouts. Legally, he had parental rights—even if he wasn’t actively involved. If the court sees this as you cutting off access to his child, it could be a problem.”

The words hit like a slap.

Nausea rises in your chest as the weight of it settles over you—heavy, suffocating. You had been so focused on escaping, on surviving, that you hadn’t thought of how it would look on paper. You hadn’t considered what it meant legally, hadn’t realized that in the court’s eyes, your silence might be seen as something calculated, something deliberate.

You had unknowingly made this harder.

You just wanted to be free. To disappear from him. To never hear his voice again, never flinch at the sound of his footsteps, never have to wonder which version of him you’d be facing that day.

"Hey.”

Satoru’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind, gentle but firm. You blink, grounding yourself as his warm palm finds yours beneath the table, fingers wrapping around your own.

"You're spiraling," he murmurs, grip reassuring, anchoring you. "Breathe, sweetheart."

Realizing only now how tight your chest has become, you suck in a shuddering breath. Across from you, Suguru watches silently, but he doesn’t interrupt—letting Satoru handle it.

"You didn’t do anything wrong," Satoru continues, voice low and steady. "You didn’t owe that bastard anything. And you did what you thought was best at the time."

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a slow, comforting motion.

"You’re not the one who abandoned Haru," he murmurs, tone firm. "He did."

“Exactly,” Suguru chimes in, measured but sure. “And now we know what he’ll latch onto, how he’ll try to twist things in his favor. And we’ll be prepared for it.”

Satoru gives your hand one last squeeze before finally letting go, leaning back in his chair. He tilts his head at Suguru, lips curling into something sharp.

"Good thing we have a damn good lawyer then, huh?"

Suguru sighs, shaking his head, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

"You mean the best lawyer. Keep up."

Satoru scoffs, stretching lazily as he folds his arms behind his head. "If you're the best, then why does my name bring in the bigger checks?"

"Because people like looking at you, not listening to you."

Satoru gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Wow. That hurts, Suguru. That hurts."

"Good. Feel it.”

A breath escapes you—something close to a laugh. Small, but real. Satoru catches it immediately. His eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, the teasing glint softens, just slightly.

Like he’s cataloging it. The way your shoulders have eased, the way a bit of color has returned to your face.

"See, sweetheart? He’s so mean to me," he whines, nudging your arm. "Did you hear that? Just, like, zero respect."

Rolling your eyes, your smile grows—the weight in your chest lifting, if only for a moment.

"You act like I haven’t been carrying you since we were kids," Suguru drawls, flipping a page in his folder.

Satoru straightens immediately. "Excuse me? That is blatant slander."

"Is it?" Suguru quirks an eyebrow. "Who was the one who got you through high school? Barely, might I add.”

"Hey now," Satoru objects, leaning forward. "I was a bright and capable student."

"Sure. When you weren’t slacking off and being a goddamn menace."

You shake your head, amused as their bickering continues—like muscle memory, like second nature. It’s effortless, this constant push and pull between them, a rhythm so ingrained it feels like breathing.

And for a brief moment, you let yourself sink into it, warmth curling in your chest. Like nothing has changed. Like you aren’t in the middle of preparing for a custody battle. Like there isn’t a pit of anxiety still gnawing at your ribs.

Satoru and Suguru make it easy.

Then your phone buzzes against the table where Suguru placed it, face down—a tiny vibration against the polished wood, so quiet it barely cuts through the noise of their conversation.

It’s nothing. Just a text. A notification.

Without much thought, you reach for it while the boys go at it—Satoru gesturing wildly, his voice dramatic, animated. Suguru flipping a page in his folder, unimpressed, already prepared to dismantle whatever ridiculous argument Satoru is making.

Unlocking the screen, your eyes flick to the message.

Naoya: We need to talk. When can I see you? Just… be good for me.

The words register slowly, their meaning sinking in like ink bleeding through paper.

The air turns thin—the office warping at the edges, colors leaching into something muted, distant. Your pulse spikes, hammering wildly in your chest, and your fingers slacken—the phone slipping from your grasp, clattering onto the table.

“Sweetheart?”

Satoru’s voice is muted, and you barely register the scrape of his chair against the floor because all you can see, all you can hear, are his words—echoing in your head.

Just be good for me.

The words crawl over your skin, wrapping tight around your throat. They coil around your ribs, squeezing, constricting, suffocating—

You don’t really want to do this, baby. Let’s just sit down and eat.

The edges of your vision blur, warping, swallowing color and sound. You’re not here. You’re there—the dim apartment, the sickly glow of streetlights bleeding through half-closed blinds, the remnants of shattered ceramic at your feet, a voice too soft, too calm—too dangerous.

Be good for me, okay?

Your body won’t move. Your ribs won’t expand.

“Baby, what is it?”

A different voice. Familiar. Safe.

As you blink, light and color slowly bleed back into your vision, and something warm presses against you—solid, steady. Satoru. His careful grip finds yours, anchoring you, pulling you back, back, back.

His other hand reaches for the phone, and his expression darkens the moment he sees the message—a muscle jumping in his jaw, his fingers clenching before he wordlessly hands the device to Suguru.

Then, he’s turning back to you.

"Hey, sweetheart…" his voice is soft, coaxing, and he cradles your face tenderly. "I need you to breathe for me."

Oh, are you not breathing?

The realization hits all at once. Your lungs are locked. Your breaths are too shallow, too fast, too panicked. The walls are still closing in, the weight still crushing your ribs. Your fingers clutch at Satoru’s sleeve, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered.

"You’re okay," pulling you in, his arms wrap around you completely. "He’s not here. He can’t touch you. I’ve got you."

The scent of him—clean linen, something crisp and warm—fills your senses. The thump-thump of his heartbeat echoes against your ear, a steady rhythm cutting through the chaos while his thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles against your back.

"Breathe with me."

You inhale, slow and shaky, then exhale.

You’re not there. You’re here.

Satoru feels the moment your body starts to ease. The moment your fingers loosen from their iron grip on his sleeve, the moment your breath finally evens out—but he doesn’t pull away, cradling you in his warmth.

Finally, you find your voice.

“I’m… okay,” you whisper, dragging your head up, meeting Satoru’s concerned gaze. His thumb brushes against your cheek—just once, fleeting, and his eyes search yours, not convinced.

A beat passes. Then, Suguru clears his throat.

"I’ll respond."

His voice is even, but there’s an edge beneath it. Cold. Measured. And you don’t protest. You can’t. Because the thought of speaking—of addressing him—sends another wave of nausea rolling through your gut.

Your body instinctively tenses again, and Satoru doesn’t let go. His fingers continue tracing slow, steady circles along your back as Suguru stares at the phone, jaw tightening just slightly before his fingers move over the screen.

The soft tap-tap-tap of his fingers against the glass is the only sound in the room. Then, a pause.

A slow, deep inhale drags through his nose, his thumb hovering over the screen for a brief second before he presses send. And the silence that follows feels heavy, expectant.

“He’s going to respond,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

Suguru leans back slightly, watching the screen. Waiting.

“He will,” he confirms, voice unreadable. “But that doesn’t matter.” His eyes lift, meeting yours with something unshakable. “Because we’re meeting him tomorrow.”

The words settle like a weight in your chest.

You stiffen. “We are?”

“You don’t have to see him, sweetheart.”

Satoru’s voice is gentle but firm, his fingers tilting your chin up just enough to guide your gaze back to his. There’s something quietly resolute in the way he’s looking at you—something absolute.

“Me and Suguru will go,” his voice is unwavering, a promise wrapped in steel. “You don’t have to do a damn thing. Let us handle him.”

The finality in his tone settles over you like armor.

You inhale—slow, deep. The tension still lingers, an ache sitting heavy in your ribs, but it no longer feels crushing. It no longer feels insurmountable. Because you don’t have to do this alone.

You have them.

a/n. ahhh, i hope you guys liked this chapter. it was very, very tough for me to write. i can't tell you how much i despise naoya—fucking gaslighting asshole, lol. i hope this gave you a glimpse of what y/n actually lived through. this is the reason she has a lot of issues—the difficulty trusting, reluctance to open up. with naoya, y/n had no voice—she was powerless. but satoru brings out the spark in her, rather than diminishing her flame, satoru nurtures it. i feel like i didn't even get to accomplish everything i wanted in this chapter 😅 but oh jeez, i couldn't do another 20k chapter. just know that there's still a lot i'm setting up for. i'm so excited for what's to come 🥹 also, y/n and satoru finally shared some intimacy, hehe. hope it was worth the wait for ya'll 🤭 remember, SLOW BURN. thanks so much for reading, and as always, i would really love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! the support with this fic floors me, every single time. i appreciate each and every one of my readers—THANK YOUUU💕 -aly → you are currently all caught upꨄ

taglist:

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

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@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans @gojoslefttoenail

[ventique18]

Dragon Malleus headcanons

You're used to how he looks in his two-legged fae form. Everyone is, honestly. But the thing is, that's not really how he truly, originally looks like. And though he knows his form of flesh is just as much of who he is as his origin, there are times when he undergoes some sort of withdrawal; a primal need to be back in the skin he was molded in. So he would occasionally spend a few days living his life as a gigantic dragon.

He doesn't particularly like being in his dragon form. He knows he's glorious and takes pride in that, of course, but it's just that it's so inconvenient. He can't fit in places. He can't grab things. He can't make gargoyles. He has to eat an entire town's worth of food just to not be hungry. But most of all, he can't really feel.

He's extremely durable. He's already impervious to damage in his humanoid form, but even more so as a dragon with walls and walls of the hardest material on Twisted Wonderland permanently attached to his body. Which is great, of course-- it's essential to his survival, but it comes with the caveat that no matter how much you touch him, no matter how much you try to show physical affection towards him, he simply cannot feel.

But there is one part of him that's soft. Something that isn't covered inch to inch in scales. His tongue.

So what best to take advantage of this little weakness than to cover you head to toe in slobber, of course?

Take note that him doing so doesn't imply anything malicious (unless you want to, of course). It's just that it's so easy to feel your presence by licking you. He can touch you without accidentally hurting you. And, as much as he refuses to admit it to avoid sounding like a pervert, being able to smell your familiar scent gives him a tender comfort. A sense of welcoming even in this world that refuses to welcome him in his rawest form.

But being covered in slobber isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. When you tell him that, the... fins on his jaw draw back, and he plants himself on the ground; snout partially buried behind his curled claws. Dragons aren't particularly expressive, but you can safely guess that he's feeling guilty of bothering you.

So you offer to help him find somewhere else to touch. He's a bit hesitant-- it seems dragons don't like the idea of exploring their weaknesses, but he agrees because it's you.

And would you look at that. He can feel you when you vigorously rub his belly. The feeling isn't really as detailed as his tongue's, but he can feel something. And it feels rather... Rather... Relaxing. He's huge though, so from your perspective it's like washing a car, but with exaggerated movements as a stroke from your height's head to toe is like scratching a spot for him.

It's tiring, but you persist with the power of love.

So this becomes a habit for you. When he transforms into a dragon, he would ask you to rub his belly, or ask for your permission to be licked if you don't look like you're in a bad mood that day. All of this is done somewhere private, of course.

So when someone would walk in by accident... And witness their prince rolled over like a dog, getting petted on his tummy... It goes to say that the dragon would be gone in a flash; replaced by a very angry, very threatening unit of a man very politely asking the intruder if he saw something. Of course the answer is always "not a single thing, sir!".

You laugh, and ask if he wants to continue with what you were doing. He sighs, refuses, and says he's not in the mood for childish amusement anymore.

"But... I can think of other, more enjoyable things we can do together."

And so the dragon, now in his villainous, irresistibly devilish form, whisks his prisoner away to a place no one knows.

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[thefearofcod]

a few years ago, my girlfriend at the time had the most beautiful, attentive, enormous German Shepard called Gemma. Now Gemma the dog had never had any kind of herding or guarding experience in her entire life because she was a precious pet princess puppy who cried if you got off the couch.

I was visiting my partner for a while, which meant I was visiting Gemma, who was a really big fan of mine. She (the dog) would fuss and cry at my partner if I did something mean like go in the bathroom and close the door because for some reason I did not want an escort to the can. The only thing she ever wanted more than ham and car rides was for all of us to be in one place together.

The place my girlfriend was living was pretty small, and Gem was what we might call a messy drinker, so her water bowl was in the bathroom. Also the bathroom door didn’t really latch properly, which is a detail we will come back to. So in the bathroom was the water bowl, a trash can, and a glass shower stall. If there’s one thing about me, it is that I am a Long Shower Bitch. I’m in there boiling myself like a beautiful gay lobster for as long as I can get away with, and because I’m pretty short, I often sit and stretch my back while I’m in.

So Gemma, who needs to know where everyone is all the time and that they’re safe (working dog! It’s Her Job) pops in to drink her water and check up on me. And she turns and looks in the shower, where I’m sitting on the floor. “Hi Gemmybean,” I said.

Now she did NOT sign off on this. She came right up to the glass of the shower, and huffed. I didn’t stand up. She whined. She sat down and did the German Shepard Head Tilt with her huge soft ears. She did a little bark.

I’ve never seen a more perturbed animal in my life. That dog frowned disapprovingly at me. She stood up and assessed the situation from another angle. She turned in a circle. She whined more. Then she left the room and tattled to Mom.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” my partner said to this dog, who had a track record of showing people things she didn’t approve of, or wanted to eat.

Gemma, presumably communicating with Lassie-like specificity, brought my girlfriend into the bathroom, and sat down in front of the shower, and whined pointedly.

“I don’t think she likes you sitting down,” my girlfriend said. “Maybe if you try standing up?”

Chastised by a dog, I stood up. Gemma looked at my girlfriend, then at me, then at my girlfriend. She huffed, drank some water, and left.

and that’s how my showers at my partner’s place got way shorter.

I think it's so funny how we bred JOBS into dogs. I have two shih tzus and they were bred to be lap dogs. All they care about is looking cute and cuddling with people. Meanwhile my grandma has a border collie and that dog needs to feel so useful all the time, he acts like he will pass away if he doesn't have a job to do constantly

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ JEONGNA’S PRIVATE MOMENTS THAT WERE ACTUALLY VERY PUBLIC ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: A compilation of Luna and Jeonghan’s most obvious “totally platonic” moments that prove they were never actually hiding their relationship— just gaslighting us into thinking they weren’t.

this was so much fun to write! just a glimpse into carats’ minds as they revisit how obvious JeongNa were 🤭 this idea was inspired by my cherry baby’s @kortmurt recent request so thank you, my lovely!! hope you guys enjoy! happy reading, my loves 🤍

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

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

indented italics are additional voice overs ღ

Hello! Welcome back to my channel! And if you are new… buckle up because I have something to get out of my chest *clears throat*

I know it’s been MONTHS already but we need to have a SERIOUS discussion because I, for one, feel PLAYED. BAMBOOZLED. GASLIT. MANIPULATED. LED ASTRAY.

Now, as we ALL know, Jeonghan and Luna’s relationship has been confirmed for a few months now. Not only that, but they’re also confirmed to be ENGAGED.

And do you think they’re being lowkey about it? Do you think they’re subtly easing us into this new reality?

No! They are out here posting, commenting, and flirting PUBLICLY like they’re getting PAID for it— oh wait, they’re not. They just enjoy making all of us feel single and stupid. Which, honestly, good for them. I respect it. ALL THE SIGNS WERE THERE! SOME OF US WERE JUST TOO STUPID TO SEE!! *points to myself*

Now that I look back, these two have been soft launching their relationship for FIVE YEARS. FIVE YEARS. And we all just ate it up like clowns. Like, ‘Oh wow, what a beautiful friendship! Soulmate besties!’

Meanwhile, Mr. Manifest-Manipulate-Meditate Yoon Jeonghan and Ms. Gaslight-Gatekeep-Girlboss Bae Jiyeon were out here actively LYING to our faces. And we BELIEVED THEM.

“We’re just best friends.” Is their go-to response or excuse to all the speculations… GIVE THEM AN OSCAR!!

So, in today’s video, we’re revisiting all the moments where Jeonghan and Luna did NOT know the cameras were on them. Moments where they straight up forgot they were in public. Where they weren’t even TRYING to hide anymore. Bonus clips of my favorite moments in general and some accidental slip ups.

Because let’s be real, the only reason they got away with this for so long is because we were all blind… and easily gaslighted.

So grab a snack, grab some tissues, and prepare to cringe at how obvious these two were being while we sat here thinking they were just besties… premium besties.

Let’s get into it.

THE IDEAL BOYFRIEND, YOON JEONGHAN

Starting strong with this iconic exchange between Luna and a Carat.

The soft hum of overlapping voices filled the air as SEVENTEEN and Luna sat in front of their respective tables, each lined up with tablets in front of them, virtually speaking to fans in an online fan sign event. The lighting in the room was bright, illuminating the members as they interacted with Carats through their screens.

Luna sat comfortably at her own table, her elbows lightly resting against the surface as she leaned in slightly toward the screen in front of her. She had her earphones in, nodding along attentively as she listened to the fan on the other end. A warm smile lingered on her lips, her head tilting slightly as she responded to whatever the fan had just said, eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

[She’s so pretty 😭]

As their conversation began to wrap up, the fan, who had been chatting animatedly with her, hesitated for a moment before calling out softly, “Jiyeonie…”

Luna, mid-smile, nodded, encouraging the fan to continue. “Yes?” she replied smoothly, her voice light and inviting.

The fan hesitated for just a second before continuing. “I have one last question before my turn ends.”

Luna let out a small hum of curiosity, straightening her posture slightly. “Oh? What is it?” she asked, her tone effortlessly warm as she adjusted the position of her hands, fingers lightly tapping against the table.

The fan took a deep breath, almost as if building up the courage to ask. “Who, out of the other members, would be the ideal boyfriend?”

[AMAZING QUESTION BTW!!]

Luna chuckled at the unexpected question, the corners of her lips twitching upward as she processed it. A light laugh escaped her as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her head tilting in amusement. “Ideal boyfriend for you?” she asked, lifting a brow before trailing off. “Or…?”

[For you, babes]

The fan, catching onto Luna’s playful hesitation, let out a giggle. “Just in general! Like, who do you think would make the best boyfriend?”

Luna exhaled a short laugh, her fingers playing with the wire of her earphones for a moment as she smiled. “Well,” she began, already thinking carefully about how to navigate the question. “Honestly, all of the members have qualities that would make them ideal boyfriends. They each have their own charms and unique personalities that people would find appealing. They all have their strengths.” She spoke smoothly, clearly doing her best to dance around giving a direct answer.

[She’s speaking facts]

[All thirteen of those men are boyfriend material]

[Jiyeonie is girlfriend material]

[GOSH– I want all of them…]

The fan, however, wasn’t having it. “Only one!” she insisted, grinning.

Luna’s smile lingered as she paused for a few seconds, eyes slightly narrowing in amused contemplation. Then, with zero hesitation and a completely natural ease, she simply said, “Jeonghannie.”

[AAHGSYEBUSGEYBEJEBSIHEUEBUEBDU]

[THAT SMILE]

[THE SMILE, THE TWINKLE IN HER EYES, THE QUICKNESS OF IT ALL!!!]

A high-pitched squeal immediately erupted from the fan’s side of the screen, making Luna burst into laughter, her head tilting downward as she tried to compose herself. She held up a hand as if in surrender, shaking her head at the overjoyed reaction.

[Same]

[Fell off my bed when I watched this for the first time]

“Wait, wait, let me explain!” she said between small giggles, pressing her lips together to suppress another laugh. “I just think he’s the most boyfriend material out of all of them.” She shrugged as if her answer was obvious, tilting her head slightly. “He’s obviously very thoughtful and knows how to take care of people in a way that’s subtle but meaningful. He remembers little details, and he’s good at making sure the people around him are comfortable. He’s funny, he’s smart, athletic, hardworking… I think those are important qualities, right?”

[miss thing out here listing all the qualities she clearly like in a man]

[WE. WERE. BLIND.]

The fan, barely containing their excitement, was already speaking again. “Okay! Jeonghan is the ideal boyfriend in general… but how about for you? Who’s your ideal boyfriend?”

[GREAT QUESTION AGAIN!!]

Luna’s eyes widened slightly at the follow-up question before she let out a soft chuckle. She lowered her gaze momentarily, shaking her head with an amused smile before simply muttering, “I already gave my answer.”

[GOODBYE WORLD I–]

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

That was all it took.

The fan on the other end of the screen let out an even louder squeal, completely losing it as Luna bit her lower lip, laughing at the dramatic reaction.

[She’s not even at all hiding it]

This particular clip from the fan sign quickly made rounds online. It spread like wildfire across Caratland, becoming one of the most well-known moments in their fandom.

Fans analyzed every micro-expression, every shift in Luna’s tone, and every flicker of hesitation in her words. Even back then, before their relationship was public, Carats had suspicions— but it was only after their confirmation that this moment became a clear and undeniable piece of evidence.

[I never doubted my JeongNa]

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR IN A PARTNER?”

And since we are in the topic of ideal types, here is another fan sign moment where JeongNa completely disregarded all form of discretion in front of a lucky Carat who by the way we should also thank for asking such a great question to our bunny couple.

At the offline fan sign, rows of excited Carats filled the venue, eagerly awaiting their turn to meet the members of SEVENTEEN. Each member sat behind a long table, interacting with fans one by one. Albums, posters, and various gifts piled up before them, each a testament to the unwavering support from their fans.

[Let me present to you another iconic JeongNa moment]

Luna, seated between Jeonghan and Vernon, radiated her usual calm and comforting energy. Her doe-like eyes focused on the fan before her, who clutched an album with trembling hands. Despite her clear excitement, nerves were evident in her quivering voice.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Jiyeonie,” the fan stammered, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Luna offered a gentle smile, reaching out to clasp the fan’s hands reassuringly. Her touch was warm, grounding the girl before her. “Don’t be nervous,” Luna said softly, her voice like a soothing balm. “I’m happy to meet you too. Thank you for coming today. I like you’re dress!”

[She’s the bestest girl fr 🥹]

The fan took a deep breath, her face breaking into a smile at Luna’s comforting words. “Thank you… Oh! I have something for you!” she exclaimed, reaching into her bag and pulling out a delicate beaded headdress. The beads shimmered under the venue’s lights, their colors dancing with every tiny movement.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Luna marveled, her eyes wide with delight. She tilted her head slightly and glanced at the fan with a playful grin. “Will you put it on me?”

The fan’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’d love to.”

[I’D LOVE TO!!!]

As Luna focused on signing the album in front of her, the fan carefully leaned forward, her hands trembling slightly as she placed the beaded accessory atop Luna’s head. Luna sat still, allowing the fan to adjust the headdress until it settled perfectly, the beads framing her face elegantly.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Once the headdress was in place, Luna turned her head slightly, testing its weight before glancing up at the fan with a bright smile. “How do I look?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

[LIKE YOU JUST CAME OUT OF A FANTASY WORLD]

The fan clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “So beautiful! Seriously, your future partner is going to be so lucky,” she gushed, eyes filled with admiration.

[The “future” partner sitting right next to her]

Luna let out a soft, melodious laugh, dipping her head slightly as if to hide the slight blush dusting her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, fingers idly tracing the cover of the album she had just signed.

Growing bolder, the fan leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been asking all the members about their ideal type today,” she began, her eyes darting briefly to the line of members seated beside Luna, “and I want to know yours too!”

[He’s seated right next to her]

Luna’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise, a chuckle escaping her lips as she considered the question. “My ideal type, huh?” she echoed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Well… I think I would want someone who’s a genuinely good person overall. Someone who’s hardworking, funny, and smart. I like someone a bit mischievous— someone who can keep things interesting.”

[wHO cOulD tHaT pOsSibLy bE?!]

The fan’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, nodding eagerly as Luna spoke.

“Most importantly, I think I want someone who can be my best friend first. Someone I know well and can trust with anything,” Luna concluded with a soft, affectionate smile that seemed to light up her whole face.

[The best friend in question is sitting right next to her]

The fan beamed at her response, clearly thrilled. But she wasn’t done yet. “What about looks? Do you have a type when it comes to features?”

[You’ll meet him in a sec, miss thing… or you could just turn your head to the man seated next to Luna]

Luna shook her head, her smile never wavering. “I don’t have a specific type when it comes to features. But…” she trailed off, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, “I do tend to find guys who look like anime characters attractive. Someone who can pull off both short and long hair.”

[SHE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE]

The fan burst into delighted laughter, completely enchanted by Luna’s answer. She nodded in agreement, clearly relating to the sentiment.

After her conversation with Luna the fan moved down the line, she arrived in front of Jeonghan, still giddy from her conversation with Luna. She barely had time to settle before Jeonghan, with that signature mischievous smirk of his, tilted his head and playfully narrowed his eyes at her.

[THAT. DAMN. SMIRK.]

[Bae Jiyeon, I get you. I feel you. I relate to you.]

“Why are you smiling so big?” he teased, his tone light and curious. He leaned slightly forward, resting his forearm lazily on the table as he signed her album. “Was Jiyeonie really that much fun to talk to? I’m telling you, I’m way more fun.”

[A menace]

The fan laughed at his antics, amused by the way he immediately started competing for her attention. The moment she glanced toward Luna, who was still signing for the next fan, Jeonghan followed her gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Luna, catching on to the conversation, barely spared him a glance before shooting him a playful glare, the kind that wasn’t meant to intimidate at all but rather to silently tell him to behave. Jeonghan, of course, didn’t take it seriously. He simply chuckled, throwing her a quick wink before shifting his attention back to the fan in front of him.

[AHVHNEBHEBSHS MOM! DAD! ADOPT ME!!]

The fan shook her head with a laugh. “All of you are so much fun to talk to.”

“Really?” Jeonghan feigned skepticism, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. “Then what were you two giggling about?” He signed her album effortlessly, eyes flicking up briefly as he waited for an answer.

[As if you weren’t listening 🤐]

The fan smiled knowingly, gripping the edge of the table in excitement. “I asked Jiyeonie about her ideal type in a partner.”

At that, Jeonghan’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second before he finished the last stroke of his signature. With a lazy sort of curiosity, he leaned back slightly and looked up at her, eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested in our Jiyeonie’s love life?”

[OUR?!? SIR?!? WHATTTTT?!!?22)2)6:?277/)]

[Love life… he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore]

The fan giggled, shaking her head. “I asked everyone! I wanted to know everyone’s answers.”

Jeonghan hummed in understanding, nodding as he leaned forward once again. “You’re gonna ask me too?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes.

[HE IS TOO EXCITED TO ANSWER]

[you can practically see the answers trying to escape his mouth]

The fan nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

Jeonghan let out a thoughtful hum, tapping the marker against the album cover as if considering his answer.

[*pretends to think as if he didn’t already prepare a answer*

Then, with a small, knowing smile, he finally spoke.

“Well… I like someone who’s cute but also really cool. Someone who’s down to do things I enjoy but also won’t force me to do things I don’t want to,” he started, his voice smooth and casual, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words. “Someone I can be lazy with— you know, stay at home all day and just rot in bed together.”

[wHO cOulD tHaT pOsSibLy bE pt. 2?!?]

The fan immediately caught on. Her eyes widened slightly as he continued.

“Someone similar to me, but not exactly the same,” Jeonghan mused, glancing up at the fan briefly before looking back down at the album. “Hardworking, smart… Someone who would take care of me.”

[‘I know something you don’t’ ~]

The similarities to Luna’s answer were undeniable. But Jeonghan didn’t stop there. His voice softened ever so slightly as he added, “And someone who knows everything about me. Someone who was a friend first.”

[THE SAME FUCKING ANSWERS FROM THE BOTH OF THEM, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!]

[‘AND WHAT THE HELL WERE WE? TELL ME WE WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS!!!’ ~]

The fan, who had already been suppressing her excitement, bit her lip, practically vibrating in her seat. “And physically?” she asked, leaning in with a teasing smile.

[She’s a JeongNa shipper for sure and we love her for that 😝]

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, pretending to think.

[*pretends to think again as if he isn’t fighting the urge to just name Luna or point at her*]

Then, almost imperceptibly, his gaze flickered to his right— so quick and subtle that if you blinked, you’d miss it. Luna was still speaking to the fan in front of her, completely immersed in their conversation, unaware of the way Jeonghan had glanced at her.

[I SAW IT?!? DID YOU SEE IT?!?]

[*plays in slow motion repeatedly*]

[WNHEJEBSJWNNE HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSLEF?2!):&2’ziwj]

Jeonghan looked back at the fan, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Nothing too specific,” he said casually. “But I think long hair is nice.”

The fan sucked in a quiet breath before nodding along with a huge smile on her face.

“A dimpled smile,” he continued smoothly, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “A really beautiful smile, actually.”

Her eyes darted toward Luna instinctively.

[WHATTHEFUCK JUST FUCKING NAME HER AT THIS POINT]

“Pretty eyes,” Jeonghan added, then, as if an afterthought, he chuckled. “Oh, and moles. I think moles on the face are really attractive.”

[Translation: “Bae Jiyeon”]

[Jeonghan’s type: Luna, Jiyeon, Bae Jiyeon, Luna Bae, Nana]

The fan’s mouth fell open slightly.

There was absolutely no mistaking it. He had just described the girl sitting right next to him.

Jeonghan, completely nonchalant, handed back the signed album, his smirk still firmly in place as if he hadn’t just exposed himself in the most discreet yet obvious way possible.

[HE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK HE’S DOING]

[NO REGRETS FROM EITHER OF THEM TOO!!]

The fan, who was still in the middle of processing his words, barely managed to thank him before she was ushered by the staff to move down the line.

And just as she did, Jeonghan shifted in his seat ever so slightly, leaning toward Luna’s side. He lowered his voice, murmuring something only meant for her ears. Luna, caught off guard, paused mid-signature. Then, just as quickly, she bit her lip to suppress a giggle, shaking her head as she continued writing.

[I WANNA KNOW TOOOOOOOBEHUSGEUWHSJ]

[They are probably giggling at how they are teasing us 🫠]

Their words were theirs alone, but the moment— the way she grinned, the way he leaned just a fraction closer— was enough for anyone paying attention to suspect that there was more to their exchange than what met the eye.

DINNER AT NEW YORK

New York JeongNa was a vibe iykyk.

The video, taken discreetly from a few tables away, was slightly shaky at first, the fan adjusting their phone’s position to capture the scene without drawing attention. The dim, warm lighting of the New York restaurant cast a soft glow over the space, the low hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of silverware creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

[They were so cute here]

At the very corner of the room, tucked away from the more crowded center, Jeonghan and Luna sat together in a booth, but instead of sitting across from each other like most couples would, Jeonghan had chosen to sit right beside her. His body was angled slightly toward her, his arm draped lazily across the back of the booth, fingers lightly resting behind her shoulder as if it was second nature.

[GAHHHHHHHHHH IS ALL I CAN SAY]

There was no unnecessary space between them— the way their bodies leaned into each other made it clear that this wasn’t a calculated attempt at privacy but rather a natural display of closeness.

[THEY WEREN’T HIDING OR ANYTHING]

Luna was speaking, her hands occasionally gesturing slightly as she explained something, and Jeonghan— despite the quiet noise of the restaurant, despite the presence of other diners, despite the occasional movement of waitstaff passing by— was focused on nothing but her. His head tilted down, his gaze locked onto her face, listening intently as if whatever she was saying was the most important thing in the world.

[YOON JEONGHAN, THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🧎‍♀️]

[HOW TF IS SHE NOT MELTING IS THE QUESTION?!]

[Bae Jiyeon is stronger than me cause I would have jumped on him if I her—]

The fan’s camera zoomed in slightly, capturing the way Jeonghan’s lips quirked up at the corners, his expression soft, his eyes crinkling faintly. Whatever Luna had said must have amused him because a quiet chuckle left his lips before he subtly leaned in closer, murmuring something just for her. Luna turned her head slightly, reacting to his words with a small, knowing smile, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of his sleeve.

[Brb literally crying in the club rn…]

[They are perfect together 🥹]

The moment felt so intimate yet so casual, as if they had done this a thousand times before— shared a space like this, lost in their own little world, unaware or simply unbothered by the outside eyes that might have been watching.

And then, without hesitation or fanfare, Jeonghan leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head. It was brief but undeniably affectionate, his lips grazing her temple with an ease that spoke of familiarity, of comfort, of love that didn’t need to be hidden.

[HOW DID WE NOT KNOW?!?]

[IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!!]

Luna didn’t react with surprise. Instead, she simply turned her head slightly toward him, her expression warm, her lips curving into something impossibly fond. It was as if she was used to moments like this— small, quiet gestures that didn’t need words to be understood.

[*googles ‘how to be Bae Jiyeon’*]

Before the video cut off, their food arrived, the plates being placed in front of them, momentarily shifting their attention to the server. But even as Luna reached for her utensils and Jeonghan adjusted his seat slightly, there was still an unspoken connection between them, the kind that lingered even when words weren’t being exchanged.

And then, the screen went black.

‘BE THE SUN’ IN LOS ANGELES SOUNDCHECK

this. just this video right here.

The Los Angeles sky burned a soft orange as the sun began to set outside the stadium, but inside, under the glow of dimmed stage lights, the atmosphere buzzed with an entirely different energy. Hundreds of lucky VIP ticket holders stood eagerly in the pit, their phones raised, recording and capturing every second of SEVENTEEN’s soundcheck.

The exclusivity of this moment made it even more special— this was their chance to see the members in a relaxed, unfiltered state before the actual concert began. The stage was void of the extravagant lighting and pyrotechnics that would come later, leaving just the members, their voices, and the electrifying connection they shared with their fans.

[I want to experience soundcheck so bad 😫]

As the first chords of the song rang through the stadium speakers, the members casually moved around the stage, each of them interacting with the fans in their own unique way. Seungkwan, ever the entertainer, exaggeratedly pointed at a fan holding a sign that read, “SEUNGKWAN MARRY ME,” before dramatically clutching his chest and pretending to swoon. Hoshi mimicked a fan’s dance moves, laughing as they tried to keep up with each other. Mingyu crouched at the edge of the stage, grinning as he reached out to accept a plushie from a fan, holding it up like a prized trophy.

Luna, standing near the center of the stage, swayed lightly to the rhythm as she sang, her gaze scanning the sea of fans. She occasionally waved and shot playful winks at the screaming crowd, her presence radiant yet effortlessly cool. Beside her, Jeonghan sang along, his voice smooth and melodic, but his attention drifted between the performance and teasing interactions with the fans.

[THEY ARE ALWAYS TOGETHER ITS ADORABLE]

When one particularly excited Carat in the front row jumped up and down waving her phone, Luna pointed at her and chuckled, mouthing, “Careful, don’t fall!”

[I fell for you already, miss thing]

After performing three songs, the members gathered at the front of the stage, slightly out of breath but all smiles. Joshua, always the composed and charming spokesperson, lifted his mic.

“Thank you all for coming to the soundcheck,” he said warmly, his voice carrying effortlessly over the speakers. “We can’t wait to see you all again when the show starts later. Make sure to save your energy, okay?”

“Drink water!” Luna chimed in, earning a wave of laughter from the crowd.

[*chugs a gallon of water*]

The members waved as the VIP section erupted into cheers, their voices blending into one chaotic yet affectionate roar. With that, the group began making their way toward the back of the stage, heading for the wings where they would disappear until the official concert began.

Even as they exited, the fans’ eyes remained locked on them, knowing that they could still be seen through the side openings of the stage. The members continued chatting amongst themselves, some throwing last-minute waves and finger hearts to the crowd as they disappeared from sight.

[HERE WE GO 🤭]

That was when it happened.

Jeonghan, walking beside Luna while talking animatedly to Joshua, swung his arm a little too far in his expressive storytelling— and hit Luna square in the stomach.

[honestly… HIT ME NEXT, JEONGHAN]

A collective gasp echoed from the crowd.

Luna stopped in her tracks, her body instinctively recoiling as she clutched her stomach, her face morphing into an exaggerated pout. Her wide eyes flickered up to Jeonghan, who had frozen mid-step, realization dawning upon him.

[Apologize to my pookie right now 🥺]

The fans could see it unfold in real-time— the exact moment he realized what he had done. His mouth parted slightly, and without a second thought, he moved toward her in a hurry.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

The next thing they saw was Jeonghan wrapping his arms around Luna from behind, pulling her close as if to protect her from the very damage he had caused. His hands, gentle and warm, smoothed over the exposed skin of her midriff where her crop top left it bare, a silent apology written in the way his fingers traced soothing circles over the spot he had unintentionally hit.

[*malfunctions*]

[*passes out*]

[*squeals in JeongNa*]

The stadium erupted into screams.

If that wasn’t enough, what happened next sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

Still holding Luna close, Jeonghan dipped his head down, his lips brushing against the crook of her neck once. Twice. Then a third time, as if sealing his apology with a kiss. Luna, though initially flustered, visibly relaxed in his hold, her lips parting into a small, knowing smile.

[WHATTHEFAWKKKKKKKMKKKKKK]

[THANK YOU TO WHOEVER FILMED THIS]

[THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE, OP 🫡]

[*plays that part again on a loop*]

Fans were screaming so loud now that their voices could probably be heard beyond the venue itself.

And the best part?

Jeonghan didn’t even seem to care.

His lips lingered near Luna’s ear for a second longer before he murmured something only she could hear, causing her to chuckle softly as they continued walking like that— Jeonghan’s arms still wrapped around her waist from behind, his hands resting comfortably on her stomach, their steps naturally falling in sync.

[MOM AND DAD?!!?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?]

[JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY— oh wait… they are about to 🤭]

The two of them walked together like that until they finally disappeared from sight, leaving behind a stadium full of fans who were still reeling from what they had just witnessed.

[Another iconic JeongNa video in the bag]

“THIS SONG REMINDS ME OF HANNIE”

And now here we have, Mother Taylor doing us a service.

The dim glow of Luna’s hotel room in Japan cast a warm, intimate ambiance as she sat comfortably on the bed, propped up against the plush pillows with her phone in hand. The screen in front of her illuminated her face softly, the gentle hum of background music filling the otherwise quiet space.

She had been live on Weverse for a while now, casually chatting with fans, answering their questions, and occasionally laughing at the more amusing comments that scrolled past.

[Side note: she is glowing in this live… she always is, who am I kidding?]

Dressed in an oversized hoodie, her hair loosely tied back, Luna exuded a calm, cozy energy that made the live feel less like a formal interaction and more like a late-night conversation between close friends. The air felt easy, relaxed— just her, the fans, and the soothing music playing softly from her laptop.

At this point in the live, Luna had settled into a quieter rhythm. Instead of talking continuously, she had let the music take the forefront, reading through the flood of comments in comfortable silence. Every so often, she would read one aloud, her voice naturally soft yet engaging.

“‘Luna, did you eat already?’” she read, her gaze flickering up to the camera before nodding. “Mmm, yes. I had udon earlier. It was really good. I was craving something warm after practice.”

She continued scrolling, occasionally responding with small smiles and hums. The sound of the song playing through her phone wrapped around her like a gentle embrace, the melody soft and sentimental. It wasn’t until a particular comment caught her attention that she blinked and tilted her head slightly, a small flicker of recognition in her eyes.

[I LOVE THIS SONG EVEN MORE NOW 🥹]

“Oh—‘Jiyeonie, what song is playing?’” she read aloud, her lips curving into the faintest smile as she turned her attention back to the music.

For a moment, she simply listened, letting the familiar chords settle in her ears before answering.

“This is ‘Invisible String’ by Taylor Swift.”

Her voice was warm, unhurried, as if she were sharing a quiet secret. Leaning back against the pillows, she let the melody play a little longer before she continued, her tone carrying a sense of quiet admiration.

[HONESTLY, THIS SONG IS SO JEONGNA CODED]

“I love this song.” Her gaze remained fixed on the scrolling comments, reading them silently before she spoke again, her voice thoughtful. “It’s so… I don’t know how to describe it. It feels nostalgic, but comforting at the same time.”

She exhaled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the edge of her phone. There was a brief pause as if she were debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. And then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, she added,

“This song reminds me of Hannie.”

[GAJNMAJEJEVEIBSKWNSGWUSBJSBWUSHAJ]

[THE SONG ABOUT THE INVISIBLE STING THEORY REMINDS JIYEON OF JEONGHAN!!!!!!!]

[GOODBYE–]

[THEY ARE SOULMATES INDEED]

The reaction was instant

The comments exploded in a frenzy of capital letters, exclamation points, and rapid-fire messages from fans losing their minds. The chat box scrolled at lightning speed, filled with variations of:

“LUNA PLEASE.”

“NOT INVISIBLE STRING LUNA DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.”

“THIS SONG IS ABOUT SOULMATES ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?”

“BAE JIYEON I CAN’T BREATHE.”

“LUNA JUST SAID JEONGHAN IS HER INVISIBLE STRING EVERYONE STAY CALM.”

The sheer intensity of the fans’ reaction was almost comical, and Luna— fully aware of the chaos she had just caused— pressed her lips together, failing to suppress the amused smirk that tugged at her mouth.

[the smirk on her face says it all… she don’t care no more]

[SHE LOVES IT]

[THEY BOTH DO]

[JEONGNA ARE MENACES]

Luna didn’t say anything more, didn’t elaborate, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. The soft, knowing expression, the way her fingers drummed against the back of her phone as she continued reading the comments, all of it hinted at a quiet amusement that she had expected this reaction.

[I KNOW DAMN WELL SHE CAN SEE THOSE COMMENTS AND SHE’S JUST OUT HERE SMIRKING]

And then, in a moment of effortless, almost unconscious sincerity, Luna’s voice rose gently over the melody as she sang along, her voice a soft murmur against the music.

“‘And isn’t it just so pretty to think…’” she sang, her tone light, delicate, as if she were singing purely for herself rather than for the thousands watching.

“‘All along there was an invisible string…’”

“‘Tying you to me~’”

[MOOOOOOOM IS SERENADING US]

[JEONGHAN, I MEAN. SHE IS SERENADING JEONGHAN]

[But seriously, we NEED a full cover]

Luna’s voice trailed off, fading into a quiet hum as she swayed slightly to the melody. The chat was still in shambles, a never-ending stream of reactions, but Luna only smiled, her expression unreadable yet undeniably warm.

She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.

The music played on, her fingers absentmindedly scrolling through the comments as she hummed along, her thoughts drifting elsewhere— perhaps to a certain someone who, unbeknownst to the fans, was probably watching this very live at that very moment.

[AND YES, YOON JEONGHAN WAS INDEED WATCHING THE LIVE]

‘I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE WE WERE 18’ ~

Since we’re already here…

Another moment of Luna telling fans about songs that remind her of Yoon Jeonghan.

Idfk why we didn’t see know… THEY WERE BEING SO OBVIOUS!

The evening air in Paris carried a crisp chill, the soft golden glow of the hotel entrance casting long shadows across the cobblestone pavement. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the occasional shuffle of feet as a group of fans stood gathered outside, waiting for one last glimpse of Luna before she left for the airport.

Dressed in a sleek, oversized coat that draped effortlessly over her frame, Luna stepped out of the hotel lobby, her presence instantly drawing the attention of the crowd. The moment she appeared, a wave of excited murmurs rippled through the fans, followed by a chorus of greetings and camera shutters clicking in rapid succession.

[She is so European 🤩]

A warm smile graced her lips as she lifted a hand in greeting, fingers wiggling slightly in a playful wave. “Hello!” she greeted, voice carrying over the group. “How are you guys? Did you wait long?”

The fans eagerly responded, some shaking their heads, others calling out variations of, “We don’t mind!” and “We wanted to see you before you left!”

Luna’s gaze softened, touched by their dedication. Without hesitation, she stepped closer, carefully maneuvering past her team, who stood at a respectful distance, allowing her this brief moment with her fans.

[I WANT TO MEET HER 😞]

[she is just truly the sweetest]

She took her time— posing for selfies, signing albums and posters handed her way, and accepting small gifts wrapped in delicate ribbons. A plush bunny, a handwritten letter, a small bouquet of flowers— each one received with genuine gratitude as she murmured soft thanks to each fan.

“You guys are always so sweet. There is no need for all of this but thank you so much,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag as she leaned in to sign another album.

[It’s what you deserve, Queen!]

The fans around her beamed, soaking in every second of the interaction. Despite the limited time, Luna made sure to acknowledge as many people as possible, meeting their eyes, sharing small jokes, and responding to their excited words with unwavering patience and warmth.

[Jiyeon always makes sure she has talked to everyone. It’s so endearing 🥹]

Eventually, as the last few fans remained, Luna reached for a poster being held out to her, her marker uncapping with a quiet click as she bent slightly to sign her name.

“Paris carats will miss you,” the fan holding the poster said earnestly, her voice tinged with both admiration and a hint of sadness.

Luna glanced up, eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the hotel lights. “I’ll miss you guys too,” she assured her, her tone gentle but certain. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

The fan, who had been filming the moment along with many others around her, nodded excitedly. “You have to!” she insisted. “We’ll be waiting!”

Luna chuckled, nodding as she finished signing with a small flourish. “I will, I will.”

[The Europe air does something to her istg]

As she handed back the signed poster, the fan hesitated for a second before grinning. “Jeonghan’s birthday is in a few days,” she pointed out. “Do you have a gift for him?”

[Duh 💁‍♀️]

At that, Luna looked up, her hand still midair as she processed the question. A slow, playful smile curled on her lips before she nodded. “Of course,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The fan leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “What is it?”

[Herself]

Luna let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s a secret.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, making the surrounding fans giggle in response.

“A secret?!” the fan whined dramatically.

Luna only shrugged, the smirk on her lips giving nothing away.

[She loves teasing istg]

[Bae Jiyeon enjoys torturing us]

The fan huffed before suddenly perking up with another question. “Okay, okay! If there was a song you’d dedicate to him for his birthday, what would it be?”

Luna barely hesitated before deadpanning, “‘Happy Birthday.’”

[SHE CRACKS ME UP 😂]

[She really said, “Girl, bffr, what other song would I dedicate on his birthday.”]

The fan let out a loud laugh, shaking her head. “Aside from that!”

Luna hummed, combing her fingers through her hair as she thought, “Hmm… I’ve been relistening to One Direction albums lately.”

The moment she said that, the fan gasped excitedly. “Really?! I love One Direction!”

Luna’s face brightened. “Really? Same! Their songs bring back so many memories.”

The fan nodded eagerly, urging her on. “Okay, okay! So which one?”

Luna paused for a second before tilting her head slightly. “I think… ‘18.’ It’s one of my favorites. It reminds me of Jeonghan, so probably that.”

[THAT SONGGGGGGG]

[‘I have loved you since we were eighteen’]

[AGHHHHHHHHHHHSBIEHSUWHAJNWKWB]

The reaction was instant— the fan let out a squeal of excitement, hands clutching her phone tightly as she processed Luna’s words. The surrounding fans echoed similar reactions, gasping, laughing, and whispering amongst themselves.

Luna smirked at their reaction before giving a small wave. “Alright, I have to go now,” she said, stepping back slightly. “Thank you all for coming! I’ll be back soon. Stay safe, okay?”

[She really answered that question, smirked because she caused a commotion, and then dipped as if nothing happened.]

[Icon behavior]

The fans waved frantically, voices overlapping as they called out their goodbyes. “Safe flight, Luna!” “We love you, Jiyeonie!” “Come back soon!”

Her bodyguard finally stepped forward, gently guiding her toward the waiting car. As she reached for the door, Luna glanced over her shoulder one last time, smiling at the sea of waving hands before slipping inside.

As the door closed behind her, the fans outside erupted into excited chatter, their cameras still recording, capturing every last moment of her departure.

THE INFAMOUS ALMOST CAUGHT CAR KISS (?)

Just this fucking video right here… just watch.

The air outside the SBS building was thick with excitement, the energy of the crowd buzzing like static in the cool night. Lined up neatly along the curb, a fleet of black vans awaited their passengers— SEVENTEEN, fresh off their Inkigayo performance, now finally off the clock and heading home.

[Side note: ‘Super’ might be my fave stage outfits]

Beyond the barricades, fans stood shoulder to shoulder, their cheers rising in pitch as they caught glimpses of idols making their way out. Media personnel crowded the front, cameras poised, ready to capture every moment of the artists departing. The bright flashes of cameras flickered like lightning against the night, illuminating the scene in rapid bursts.

And then, the commotion intensified.

SEVENTEEN had finally emerged from the building, now dressed in their own comfortable clothes rather than their elaborate stage outfits. Though exhaustion clung to their post-performance bodies, their faces still carried that familiar warmth as they acknowledged the sea of fans waiting for them.

“SEVENTEEN! SEVENTEEN!” The fans screamed, voices overlapping as they called out each of the members’ names.

[Icons doing iconic shit]

Luna and Jeonghan were among the first to step outside. Luna, wrapped in an oversized zip-up hoodie with the hood resting against her back, lifted a hand in greeting, a soft, dimpled smile gracing her lips. She bowed politely, waving towards the cameras and the fans alike.

[She’s so smol 🥹 (she’s taller than me)]

[I wanna keep her in my pocket and take care of her]

Jeonghan trailed behind her, dressed in a loose-knit sweater and black jeans, his long black hair slightly tousled from the hours spent on stage. His eyes crinkled in a quiet smile as he too waved, effortlessly charming as he dipped his head in greeting.

The screams intensified.

[They are so hot]

[They just look good together yk]

[They. Just. Make. Sense. Together.]

“LUNA! JEONGHAN! OVER HERE!”

“JIYEON-AH, I LOVE YOU!”

“HANNIE! YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME!”

The energy was infectious. As Luna and Jeonghan made their way towards their designated van, Luna took her time, sending small finger hearts toward the fans, mouthing silent “thank yous” to those who shouted words of encouragement. The bright lights of the cameras danced in her vision, but her attention remained on the fans, her steps slow and intentional, as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

[She loves us so much]

Jeonghan, however, had already reached their van first. With the door now open, he turned back, watching as Luna lingered for a moment longer, engaging with the fans.

[Han waiting for her 🥹 I’m so soft for them]

Then, in one swift, playful motion after debating, Luna reached out and plucked a plushie from the hands of a fan reaching over the barricade— a soft, brown teddy bear.

“OH MY GOD, SHE TOOK IT! JIYEON-AH! I LOVE YOU!”

The fan gasped, clutching onto their friends as a high-pitched scream escaped them. The surrounding fans erupted into excited shrieks, their hands flying to their mouths as they processed the interaction.

[Honestly same]

[Bae Jiyeon can snatch my arm right out the socket and I’d cry in happiness]

Jeonghan, still standing by the open van door, chuckled at the scene unfolding before him. His grin stretched lazily across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, simply watching her antics with amusement.

[‘A man. A man. A man. A maAaAnN’ ~]

Luna shot one last wave toward the crowd before finally making her way over, clutching the plushie to her chest. As she approached, Jeonghan— ever the gentleman— lifted a hand to the top of the car’s frame, ensuring she wouldn’t accidentally hit her head as she stepped inside. She slid in with ease, murmuring a soft thank you under her breath before settling into the seat.

[WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!?]

[YOON JEONGHAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 🧎‍♀️]

With a final glance toward the crowd, the two of them waved once more before Jeonghan followed suit, stepping into the van. The door shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the screaming fans just outside.

[And so it begins…]

[Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen]

Though the outside world had been shut out, the interior lights of the van were still on, casting a soft, golden glow inside. The thick, black curtains that usually shielded them from the outside were slightly pushed open, leaving just enough space for the fans to get a glimpse inside.

[This is the universe showing us that it is a JeongNa shipper as well 😝]

And what fans saw made their hearts nearly stop.

Luna and Jeonghan sat side by side, both leaned back comfortably in their seats, facing each other as they engaged in quiet conversation. Though the details of their words couldn’t be heard, the way they looked at each other spoke volumes.

[Fucking adorable]

“Oh my god, look at them—”

“JEONGHAN IS JUST STARING AT HER—”

Through the slight gap in the curtains, it was evident that Luna was saying something animatedly, her hands moving slightly as she spoke. But Jeonghan… he was quiet. Just gazing at her with that small, lazy smile that never quite left his lips, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but still holding that familiar warmth.

[JEONGHAN! MY DUDE! CHILLLLLLL!!!]

Then, without warning, Luna lifted the teddy bear she was given earlier, holding it up as if inspecting it. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she made the plushie walk across Jeonghan’s chest, bouncing lightly as if it had little feet.

[IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE! (I’m talking about Luna not the teddy 😊)]

The fans outside watching could see Jeonghan chuckle, his head tipping back slightly as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Then, Luna moved the plushie again, this time making it lean in and kiss Jeonghan’s cheek.

The fans lost it.

“JIYEONIE IS SO CUTE—”

“SHE MADE THE TEDDY KISS HIM I’M GOING TO SCREAM—”

[Same]

Jeonghan only shook his head, reaching out lazily to poke the plushie before turning his attention back to her, their conversation continuing in hushed tones.

But then— something changed.

[Here. We. Fucking. Go.]

Jeonghan lifted a hand, his fingers reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Luna’s ear, his movements slow, deliberate.

The fans watching held their breath.

Then, slowly, he began to lean in.

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

Luna, mid-sentence, suddenly shifted. Her eyes darted toward the window— the small opening in the curtain— and her breath caught. Her expression flickered for just a moment before her eyes widened slightly in realization.

The fans saw the exact moment it happened.

“WAIT SHE NOTICED US—”

[Yeah no shit 😩]

[I wanted to see them kisssssss]

Luna quickly pulled back, her lips parting as she lifted a hand and subtly pointed toward the overhead light.

Jeonghan, noticing her shift, stopped just before closing the space between them. Instead of pulling away, he simply turned his head, following her gaze toward the window.

[He don’t care, gurl… just kiss him already!]

For a brief moment, the fans were able to see his expression— curious, then amused. Then, as if fully processing the situation, his lips curled into a smirk.

[THAT. DAMN. SMIRK. YOON JEONGHAN]

And then— he reached up, fingers flicking the light switch off.

Darkness.

Before the fans could even react, his other hand moved, gripping the curtain —and with one smooth motion, he pulled it shut.

That was the last thing they saw.

[HOW MUCH YA’LL WANNA BET HE MADE OUT WITH HER RIGHT AFTER?!? I BET EVERYTHING I OWN!!]

Were they about to kiss? Or was he simply going to whisper something?

A mystery to this day.

The fans outside erupted.

“WHAT THE HELL DID WE JUST WITNESS?!”

“I CAN’T BREATHE—”

[Same]

“JEONGHAN SMIRKED. HE KNEW. HE KNEW.”

[He knew and he didn’t care]

[Wasn’t even phased]

“THE WAY HE JUST CLOSED THE CURTAIN AND TURNED OFF THE LIGHT I’M ACTUALLY SICK.”

[Same pt. 1563]

The screams carried on, the energy electric, as theories and speculations ran wild through the crowd. And with that, the van pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the Seoul night.

KISSING SOUNDS (?) ON JEONGHAN’S LIVE + LUNA’S APPEARANCE

Here we have another moment where I am a hundred percent sure they were kissing.

THEY MAKE ME GO INSANE!!!

Just LISTEN closely!

The night was quiet, the only sounds in the dimly lit room being the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the blankets.

Jeonghan lay comfortably on his back, his phone resting on his chest as he spoke to the thousands of fans tuned into his live. This wasn’t a traditional broadcast— no bright lights, no setup. It was a ‘voice only’ live— just his voice filling the space as fans listened in, his words casual and unhurried, carrying the weight of exhaustion from the long day.

[THIS VOICE ONLY LIVE IS ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVES]

[Jeonghan’s voice ugh 😩]

Unbeknownst to the listeners, Luna was beside him, nestled under the covers, her body curled slightly toward him as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness. She had fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, the quiet lull of his speech acting as a soothing rhythm.

Jeonghan knew she was tired, the kind of exhaustion that seeped into her bones, and he hadn’t minded when she tugged at his sleeve earlier before he started the live, mumbling something incoherent before settling against his side. She barely stirred now, her breaths slow and steady, the warmth of her body pressed gently against his.

Jeonghan continued talking, his voice lower than usual, careful not to disturb her. “Ah, that’s funny,” he murmured, reading the flood of comments appearing on his screen. “No, I don’t have any snacks with me right now… Should I get something? Ah, but I’m too comfortable to move.”

The chat scrolled rapidly, fans reacting to his words in real-time. He lazily skimmed through them, his thumb scrolling up and down at a sluggish pace. Then, suddenly— acomment caught his eye.

He blinked, rereading it, and then— laughter.

A real, unrestrained laugh burst from his lips, much louder than he had intended. The noise cut through the quiet air, startling even himself.

[He has the prettiest laughs]

[MY GOD 🧎‍♀️]

[I have used this 🧎‍♀️ emoji one too many times… but that’s how I honestly feel.]

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

And, unfortunately, his laugh also startled Luna.

Beside him, she jolted slightly, her brows knitting together as a soft, disoriented hum left her lips. She shifted, her fingers weakly gripping at the fabric of his sweater as if grounding herself from the sudden disturbance.

Jeonghan immediately turned his head toward her, guilt flashing in his eyes. His laughter faded into a breathy chuckle as he mouthed, “Sorry.”

Luna blinked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, barely registering what had happened. She let out a sleepy sigh, nodding sluggishly before snuggling closer, her face pressing against the warmth of his shoulder.

Jeonghan felt something in his chest tighten at the sight. The way she looked— soft, half-asleep, and utterly vulnerable— made his heart ache in a way he couldn’t explain.

Still feeling sorry for waking her, he lifted a single finger and gently tilted her chin up. She barely resisted, her drowsy gaze meeting his for just a second before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

She sighed into the touch, her body relaxing even further. The kiss was brief— but it was enough to silently convey what he couldn’t say out loud in that moment.

[LISTENNNNNNNN?!?]

From the fans’ point of view, all they heard was the sudden silence following Jeonghan’s laughter. A pause, a shuffle of movement, and then— a sound.

Something.

A light, fleeting noise— soft but unmistakable.

It wasn’t clear. It wasn’t obvious.

But it was something.

A smack? A wet sound? A kiss?

[THAT WAS A KISS, GOODBYE–]

The chat exploded.

“What was that sound?!”

“YOON JEONGHAN. EXPLAIN YOURSELF?!?”

“OH MY GOD DID HE JUST—”

“He’s not talking. He knows what he did!!”

[I WAS WATCHING THIS LIVE AND IT WAS INSANE!!]

The chaos in the comments went unnoticed by Jeonghan for a brief moment as he pulled back, watching Luna nuzzle into his shoulder once more, her breathing evening out again.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he returned his focus to the phone and in his moment of distraction, he accidentally tapped the screen.

The camera turned on.

For a split second, the fans were no longer just listening to his voice.

They saw him.

And more importantly— they saw her.

Luna, lying right next to him, her face partially buried against his shoulder, her expression still soft with sleep.

[PEEK-A-FUCKING-BOO]

[Imagine how psycho we were theorizing about him possibly kissing some random person then BOOM Bae Jiyeon laying next to him]

[I CANNOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP?!?]

[IDK WHY WE WERE SO SHOCKED WHEN THEY CONFIRMED THEIR RELATIONSHIP?! IT WAS RIGHT HERE ALL ALONG!!]

The reaction in the comments were instantaneous.

“OH MY GOD???”

“LUNA????”

“JEONGHAN?! JIYEON?! WTF?!”

“WE CAUGHT YOU. WE ALL SAW.”

The realization hit Jeonghan at the same time Luna processed what had happened.

Her eyes widened slightly, a delayed reaction, before she made a sound that was almost a whimper of embarrassment. Quickly, she turned away, covering her face with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scooted just out of the frame, her body half disappearing from view.

[Gurl…. We all saw you]

Jeonghan, unfazed, only chuckled, his lips quirking into an amused smile as he reached up and tapped the screen again, turning the camera back off.

[HE 👏 DOES 👏 NOT 👏 GIVE 👏 A 👏 DAMN 👏]

“YOU CAN’T JUST PRETEND THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN.”

“JEONGHAN WE ALL SAW HER.”

“THIS IS INSANE I NEED TO LAY DOWN.”

Jeonghan let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well,” he mused before turning the camera back on, “you might as well say hi now. They already saw you.”

Luna, still curled into herself, let out a muffled groan before slowly peeking out from her hoodie. She glanced toward his phone, her voice raspy with sleep as she mumbled, “Hi.”

[Shes’s adorable 🥹]

The chat erupted.

“SHE’S SO CUTE PLEASE.”

“She looks so sleepy I’m going to cry.”

“YOU GUYS TWO ARE ACTUALLY INSANE.”

Jeonghan grinned, his tone light. “She was sleeping,” he explained, “but I accidentally woke her up.” He conveniently left out the part where they had, in fact, been kissing.

[“… and kissed her.”]

And just like that, the mystery of that sound would remain unsolved.

“THE EYES, CHICO, THEY NEVER LIE”

Ending this video with this cute footage of them in the background of a behind the scene clip.

This video has a special place in my heart just because of the way they look at each other.

Enjoy!

The gymnasium was vast, its polished floors gleaming under the harsh, fluorescent lights overhead. The room was buzzing with activity as SEVENTEEN and their dancers milled around during their break, bodies moving in various states of exhaustion and playfulness.

Some members were still running through choreography, muscle memory guiding their motions even as their breaths came in short, measured exhales. Others were sprawled out on the floor, limbs stretched as they tried to catch their breath, sweat glistening on their skin. A few wandered around, chatting, hydrating, and indulging in lighthearted banter, their voices echoing through the open space.

[THIS DANCE PRACTICE IS ✨SUPERIOR✨]

The behind-the-scenes camera was currently focused on Hoshi, who stood in the middle of the gym, slightly out of breath but still beaming as he spoke animatedly to the lens. His hands gestured wildly as he explained the intensity of their practice, the difficulty of the ‘Super’ choreography, and how important synchronization was with such a large group.

However, in the background, a quieter scene unfolded by the bleachers.

[I love you Hoshi but I was focused on JeongNa at the back]

Luna sat there, crouched down with her knees hugged loosely to her chest, sipping on a water bottle as she watched the members goofing around. Her hair was slightly damp from sweat, her face glowing from the rigorous practice, but her expression was relaxed, her lips curling faintly as she observed the chaos around her. Her gaze flitted from member to member, watching them in their own worlds— Dino playfully shoving Mingyu, Seungkwan dramatically collapsing onto a bench, Woozi stretching out his sore muscles.

[She’s adorable 🥹 pt. 164367]

And then, movement caught the camera’s eye.

Jeonghan.

He approached her with a slow, unhurried pace, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants, his gaze never leaving her. There was something effortless about the way he moved, like he wasn’t walking toward her so much as he was being pulled there naturally, as if his body was drawn to hers without conscious thought.

[HE– no comment.]

Reaching the bleachers, Jeonghan stopped just in front of Luna, looking up at her with that signature, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Since she was sitting on the elevated bench, their height difference was reversed— he had to tilt his head slightly to meet her gaze while she looked down at him.

Without a word, he lifted his arms and placed his hands on either side of her, palms pressing against the cool metal of the bleacher seat, effectively caging her in. His arms formed a loose barrier, not restrictive, not confining— but there was a certain intimacy in the way he leaned in, closing the space between them just enough that their conversation felt like it existed in its own little world, separate from the bustling gym.

[I love them together. It is not even funny anymore.]

Luna’s reaction was immediate.

A soft, dimpled smile appeared on her face, the corners of her lips curving naturally as she gazed down at him. There was a warmth in her expression, her features softening in a way that was almost imperceptible yet impossible to ignore. She looked at him like she had been waiting for him to come over, like his presence was something expected yet still delightful.

And Jeonghan— he was looking at her the exact same way. His lips were curled into a quiet grin, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mix of amusement and affection.

[The way they are looking at each other 🥹]

[they love each other.]

They exchanged words, their voices too quiet to be picked up by the microphone, but their body language spoke volumes.

The way Luna’s shoulders relaxed as she spoke softly, the gentle tilt of her head, the way her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the cap of her water bottle. The way Jeonghan listened— his gaze locked onto hers, his smile widening at something she said, his eyes never straying from her face.

There was a brief moment where Luna’s eyes sparkled— an unfiltered joy flickering through them as she spoke, something playful and lighthearted passing her lips. Jeonghan’s response was a low chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he dipped his head for just a second before lifting it again to meet her gaze.

[‘The look of love, the rush of blood’ ~]

And then, silence.

Not an awkward one, not one filled with hesitation— but a moment suspended in time, where they simply looked at each other.

[I pray a love like this find me 🙏]

Luna’s fingers stilled against the water bottle, and her smile softened, turning quieter, more intimate.

Jeonghan’s expression mirrored hers, his grin gentling, his head tilting just slightly as if taking her in.

[The way they are just looking at each orher so lovingly and smiling]

[They are each other’s safe place]

The camera, though focused on Hoshi, couldn’t help but capture this small, quiet exchange in the background. It was fleeting, just a moment in between the energy of their practice, but it was real. A glimpse into something genuine, something unspoken, something effortless.

And though they were surrounded by people, it felt, just for that moment, like they were the only two in the room.

There you have it folks, just a handful of moments where JeongNa either exposed themselves or nearly got caught.

Cannot believe we had the audacity to act surprised when the confirmation came out. Like—HELLO? HELLO?? Were we watching two different people this entire time? Because they were not hiding. At all. Not even a little bit.

If anything, they were gaslighting us into thinking we were delusional when in reality, we were just blind. Stupid. Clowning ourselves daily.

They really sat there, in broad daylight, touching, flirting, giggling, eye contacting, ALMOST KISSING, and we just… brushed it off? We deserved to be lied to. Honestly. Because HOW did we not see it??

At this point, I’m convinced they weren’t hiding at all. They were just playing a game of ‘How Much Can We Get Away With Before They Notice?’ And guess what? THEY WON. BECAUSE WE DIDN’T NOTICE UNTIL THEY TOLD US.

But in all seriousness, I love them. I love them so much. The way they look at each other, the way they care for each other— it’s just so genuine. And honestly? That’s all that matters. So yeah, we were dumb. But at least now we can openly scream about it. And I, for one, am never shutting up about them. Ever.

Congratulations to Luna and Jeonghan. You won. We lost. And we couldn’t be happier about it.

Till the next video! Toodleloo!

comments…

@/lunababybae • 1 day ago ╰ We were played. We were played good. But then again why am I surprised?! These two are the aces of GoSe 😝

@/rinarieee • 1 day ago ╰ I for one have been shipping them since the fucking beginning… just had a feeling they were made for each other. You can call me Cupid!

@/gyusshadow • 1 day ago ╰ LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR VIDEOS AS USUAL! You are hilarious 😂

@/moonbae17 • 1 day ago ╰ the way they were both clearly describing each other is what gets me every time 2:16 🤭💖

@/saluttteee_17 • 1 day ago ╰ THE WAY JEONGHAN JUST SMIRKS EVERY TIME THEY SLIP UP IS CRAZY ATTRACTIVE. HE IS A MENACE!!

@/mad-lineeee • 1 day ago ╰ the way Hannie looked at Luna 3:30 before he rants about what his type is

@/mrsbaebae • 1 day ago ╰ I have said it once and I will say it again… YOON JEONGHAN SEEMS TO BE AN AMAZING KISSER 🫠

@/alyy1625 • 1 day ago ╰ 5:45 DAMN 🥵 Han loves kissing her neck. He did this a few times to her in Game Caterers

@/jeongnanana • 1 day ago ╰ I am proud to say that I was at that soundcheck and we were all losing our minds over those two 🤭

@/gyuuuuudaily• 1 day ago ╰ invisible string and 18 are so their songs!

@/lunaticforluna• 1 day ago ╰ Jiyeon always dedicates songs for the guys but mostly Hannie and she never misses.

@/lulu-nana17• 1 day ago ╰ 8:03 her smile when she was singing Invisible String 😭 ik she felt that in her bones

@/sebongrighthere • 1 day ago ╰ THE. WAY. THEY. STARE. AT. EACH. OTHER.

@/missbitchhhh • 1 day ago ╰ Gurl you crack me up with the captions and your commentary 😂

@/shadowmyshadow• 1 day ago ╰ JEONGNA IN THAT DAMN VAN ALMOST KISSING WAS AND IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE

@/angel7266 • 1 day ago ╰ 11:30 JEONGHAN SMIRKING BEFORE TURNING THE LIGHTS OFF AND SHUTTING THE BLINDS?! IK THEY MADE OUT IN THERE!:₱/?)/

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 1 day ago ╰ 10:55 just me and Jeonghan being soft for Luna playing with a teddy bear

@/user763816262 • 1 day ago ╰ carats’ reaction as they watched JeongNa is the car 😂

@/ashonashonash_ • 1 day ago ╰ Hannie’s live till this day makes me giggle because it was so obvious they were kissing 🤭

@/jijijiyeonienie • 1 day ago ╰ that clip of JeongNa at the background while Hoshi was speaking to the camera was so wholesome. You can clearly tell how much they adore and love each other. It’s adorable and anyone who says otherwise are liars.

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[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: the kittening

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I may have already almost finished a part 2 to this already… this may be my favourite thing I’ve ever wrote

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows along the walls as Agatha sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished surface. Your fellow witches exchanged glances, some amused, others bracing for the inevitable storm.

“She’s taking too long,” Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes at the door as if sheer will alone would bring you home.

Billy smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut. Lilia, however, leaned forward, arching a brow. “She just went to get food, Agatha. You do remember she’s an adult, yes?”

Agatha’s sharp glare snapped to her, but Lilia didn’t flinch. She was used to Agatha’s theatrics by now.

“I do remember,” Agatha said, tone clipped, “but she should be back by now. Anything could’ve happened.”

Jen chuckled under her breath. “Oh yes, because the biggest, scariest threat to her is probably tripping over a squirrel.”

Alice grinned. “Or getting distracted by a particularly interesting tree.”

Agatha’s scowl deepened, but her fingers stilled. It was true- you were soft, gentle, prone to stopping to feed birds or magically fixing a bumblebees wing. It was why she loved you. It was why she worried.

Lilia sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If you panic every time she goes out alone, she’ll think you don’t trust her to be independent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I trust her. I just don’t trust other people.”

Billy snorted. “Sure Agatha.”

Before Agatha could snap at him, the front door creaked open. The tension in her shoulders snapped like a thread, and in an instant, she was on her feet, sweeping toward you.

There you were, glowing with warmth, eyes bright as you kicked off your shoes. But she saw it- the hesitation, the way you bit your lip. Her stomach dropped.

“You worried mommy,” she purred, brushing a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You took too long. What’s wrong, darling?”

You swallowed, shifting your weight, cradling something in your arms.

“Aggie… please don’t be mad.”

Agatha’s eyes darkened. “Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, then slowly, gently, lifted a tiny, black-furred bundle into view. A kitten. Small, fragile, with wide, gleaming eyes. It mewed softly.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Oh, absolutely not.”

The room went silent. The coven, who had seen Agatha deal with all manner of supernatural threats, were now witnessing something far more dangerous: a battle of wills between the all-powerful Agatha Harkness and her painfully sweet, unfairly adorable wife.

Agatha crossed her arms, leveling you with a firm stare. “No.”

You blinked up at her, cradling the tiny kitten against your chest. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

Billy, sitting on the couch, leaned toward Jen and whispered, *“She’s already lost.”*

Agatha shot him a look, but her attention snapped back to you when you let out a soft, sad sigh. You rubbed a gentle finger over the kitten’s tiny ear, your lower lip jutting out just slightly. Not enough to be dramatic, just enough to devastate her.

“Aggie, please,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I love him. He needs us.”

Agatha steeled herself. “Baby, come on, we have a rabbit already.”

You perked up. “But they can be best friends!”

“They will not be best friends-”

“We can raise him,” you continued, stepping closer, voice soft, persuasive, sweet as honey. “Please, Aggie. I love you. And I love him. Please?”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw twitched. Her fingers flexed like she was physically holding herself back.

Alice, watching from across the room, snorted. “Oh my god, just let her keep the damn cat.”

“She’s gonna say yes,” Jen stage-whispered.

Billy propped his chin on his hand. “She’s just stretching it out for dramatic effect now.”

“I am not,” Agatha snapped, then turned back to you, who was still looking at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Damn you and your sweetness.

She let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face. Then, after a moment, she dropped her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “fine.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up as you clutched the kitten closer. “Really?”

Agatha groaned. “Yes, really. But I swear to the gods, if he scratches up my books, or if he pisses on the rug, he’s your problem.”

You grinned, bouncing up and down in glee. “Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!”

Agatha grumbled something under her breath but didn’t resist when you threw your arms around her. Her hands settled on your waist, grip firm but familiar, and she sighed against your hair.

Billy snickered. “Well, that was pathetic.”

Agatha shot him a glare over your shoulder. “I will turn you into a toad.”

But even as she threatened Billy, her arms curled tighter around you, and she let you tuck the kitten between you both. He let out a tiny, content purr.

“I told you mommy would let you stay didn’t I S…” you cooed, stopping and blushing as you almost revealed your new sons name.

Agatha groaned. “Oh, for the love of- you’ve already named him, haven’t you?”

You smiled guiltily and nodded “his name is Salem”

Lilia cackled. “Oh, now that’s just poetic.”

~

Agatha woke with a slow, satisfied stretch, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find you- warm, soft, pliant against her.

But the sheets were cold.

Her smirk faded. She frowned, eyes cracking open, hand still patting the empty space beside her. “Baby?”

Silence.

Her frown deepened.

She sat up, fingers raking through her hair, listening carefully. Then…

A giggle.

Agatha’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. You were giggling? Without her? Another soft peal of laughter, followed by a quiet meow. Agatha’s nostrils flared.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, slipping it on as she stalked toward the door. Her morning had already been ruined by the lack of you curled against her, but now she was hearing giggles- the kind that were usually reserved for her alone- and she wasn’t involved?

Completely unacceptable.

Barefoot and silent, she padded down the hall, pushing open the living room doors to find…

You. Laying on your stomach on the rug, elbow propped under your chin, face alight with pure, radiant joy as you dragged a ribbon back and forth. Salem, the tiny black-furred usurper, pounced and tumbled after it, little tail flicking in excitement.

Agatha scowled.

She was being ignored.

By you.

For a cat.

Her presence went unnoticed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring down at the scene with unmasked displeasure.

“Oh, you’re such a clever boy,” you cooed, wiggling the ribbon. Salem pounced again, missing completely and landing in an adorable, flailing heap. You laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Such a little hunter, aren’t you? Yes, you are! So fierce!”

Agatha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another dimension.

Fierce? That tiny thing was not fierce. She was fierce.

And yet, here you were, lavishing all your attention- attention that should have been spent in bed, between her thighs or seated on her face- on this ridiculous furball.

Enough.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

You gasped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. “Oh! Aggie, good morning!”

Agatha arched a brow, gaze flicking between you and the kitten still sprawled on the rug. “Is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You tell me, darling. I woke up alone. And when I came looking for you, I find you here, on the floor, giggling and fawning over-” she gestured vaguely at Salem, “that.”

Salem, utterly unbothered by her disdain, flopped onto his back and stretched out his tiny paws.

Your expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! He woke up early and was being all cute, so I thought I’d play with him for a little bit.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “You left our bed for a cat.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “Are you jealous?”

Her jaw clenched. “Of a kitten? No.”

You giggled again, pushing up onto your knees and crawling toward her. “Mmm, I think you are.”

Agatha huffed, tilting her chin up. “Absolutely not.”

But then you reached for her, standing up with hands slipping under her robe, fingers grazing over the bare skin of her waist as you pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Poor mommy,” you murmured, lips trailing up her neck. “You just want my attention, don’t you?”

Agatha shivered, but held her ground. “I deserve your attention.”

You hummed, pressing a final kiss just under her jaw. “Well, then maybe you should play nice with Salem, so you don’t have to share it.”

Agatha’s glare snapped back to the kitten, who was currently grooming his tiny paw, wholly unbothered. Smug little thing.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if he touches my spellbooks, he’s gone.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Deal.”

Salem meowed.

Agatha scowled.

This was war.

~

Agatha took a slow breath, rolling back her shoulders as she watched Billy attempt the spell she had just demonstrated.

“Focus,” she instructed, arms crossed. “Channel your energy through the rune, don’t just throw power at it.”

Billy muttered something under his breath but obeyed, adjusting his stance and trying again. The rune shimmered in the air before them, pulsing faintly with his magic. It was… adequate.

Agatha nodded once. “Better.”

She turned slightly, expecting to see you sitting up, watching like you always did when she mentored Billy. You were always so attentive- so soft and doting, looking at her like she had hung the stars just by showing a simple spell. But when she glanced toward the sofa her blood ran cold.

There you were, but not watching her. Not waiting to drape yourself over her the second she was done. No, you were napping, curled up on the couch, and draped across your chest, smug as anything, was Salem.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. Unbelievable.

She clenched her fists, fighting the petty urge to hex the little thing right off you. It was enough that you fawned over him every waking moment, but now? Now, even in sleep, Salem had claimed his place as the ruler of this household.

Billy, following her gaze, immediately perked up. “Oh my god, look at him.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped as Billy abandoned the lesson entirely and rushed to your side.

“Look at this little guy,” he cooed, crouching beside the couch, reaching out to scratch under Salem’s tiny chin.

You stirred at the movement, blinking sleepily, eyes soft and warm as you woke to Billy petting the cat.

“Oh,” you yawned, smiling as you stretched. “Morning, Billy.”

“Morning, Salem,” Billy smiled down at the kitten on your chest, still cooing over the kitten.

You giggled, rubbing your cheek against Salem’s tiny head. “He’s the sleepiest boy today, huh?”

“Right?” Billy agreed, reaching to stroke along Salem’s tiny back. “Look at him. He’s just a baby.”

Agatha, still standing stiffly across the room, gawking at the scene in front of her. You never looked at her with that same soft, sleepy adoration after a nap.

And now the two of you were sitting there, utterly obsessed with that ridiculous creature, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, while Agatha stood there, forgotten.

The realisation was horrifying. She had been dethroned. Salem, tiny and innocent-looking, had become the true ruler of this household. He had you. He had the coven. And now he had Billy.

She was losing.

Agatha narrowed her eyes. No. She refused to be bested by a kitten.

Billy glanced up at her and grinned. “Agatha, come look at him! Isn’t he just-”

“No.”

Billy blinked. “What?”

Agatha lifted her chin, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I don’t fawn over creatures that contribute nothing to the household.”

You pouted, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. “But, Aggie, look at his little toes—”

Agatha looked away. She wouldn’t be tricked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because Salem has completely stolen your wife.”

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Billy smirked. “Then come pet him.”

Agatha froze.

Billy’s smirk widened. “Go on.”

You looked up at her, hopeful, and patted the space next to you. “Come on, baby.”

Agatha hesitated.

Her instincts told her it was a trap.

But then you pouted, soft and irresistible, looking at her with those big, pleading eyes… And just like that, she was moving. Slowly. Cautiously.Like Salem was some ancient being waiting to strike.

She perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, glancing down at the tiny ball of fluff stretched across your chest. He blinked up at her, slow and lazy, like he was daring her to do something.

Agatha exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, after a long moment she reached out, one single finger extended…The second her fingertip brushed against Salem’s fur, the kitten let out a mighty stretch and promptly rolled deeper into your embrace, turning his back on her.

Agatha gasped.

Billy lost it.

“Oh my god, you’ve been rejected.” He wheezed.

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I have not.”

Billy cackled, clutching his stomach. “No, no, this is humiliating. He knows. He knows you don’t like him, and he’s snubbing you.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Salem’s tiny head. “Oh, baby, don’t be mad. He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

Agatha bristled. “I don’t need a cat’s trust.”

Billy wheezed. “Oh, you so do.”

Agatha glared at Salem, and to her horror, the kitten simply let out a tiny yawn and promptly fell back asleep. Utterly unbothered. Agatha had never hated anything more in her life.

This was war.

And Agatha Harkness never lost.

~

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with warmth and want. Agatha had you exactly where she wanted- beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming in soft little pants as she trailed possessive hands down your body.

She smirked, brushing her lips against your ear. “Mine.”

You whimpered, arching into her touch. “Yours.”

A pleased hum rumbled in her throat. “Say it again, baby.”

You shivered, fingers tangling in hair as she kissed down your neck. “All yours, Mommy.”

Agatha’s grip tightened. Finally, after an entire day of being ignored in favor of that creature, she had you back- where you belonged- focused entirely on her.

She dragged her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a deep, claiming kiss.

And then—

A thump.

A chirping meow.

And before Agatha could even process what was happening… A tiny black ball of menace leapt onto the bed.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh my gods!”

Agatha froze.

You gasped, delighted, and immediately sat up, reaching for the little intruder. “My smart boy!”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

You pushed her away.

For the cat.

Salem, looking entirely too smug, hopped into your lap and headbutted your chin, purring loudly.

You melted. “Oh, you clever little thing,” you cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You figured out the door! Mommy shut you out, didn’t she? But you got in anyway, huh?”

Agatha, still reeling, barely managed to rasp out, “I shut the door.”

You beamed at her. “He’s a genius!”

Agatha scowled. “He’s a problem.”

You weren’t even listening. You were too busy giggling as Salem flopped dramatically onto his back, rolling in your lap, fully aware that he owned you.

Agatha clenched her jaw.

No.

No, she would not allow this to happen.

She reached for you again, slipping a hand under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers. “Come on, baby,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, lips barely brushing yours. “Focus on mommy”.

But just as your lids fluttered, just as you exhaled that soft little sigh that always made her crazy-

Salem chirped and nudged your hand.

And, horrifyingly, your attention snapped back to him, “Ohhh, I know, I know,” you cooed, cradling his tiny face. “You need some loving too, huh?”

Agatha flung herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was being personally victimized by the universe.

“What about my loving?” she demanded, throwing a hand over her forehead like some tragic heroine.

You giggled. “Aggie-”

Salem, with perfect timing, rolled onto his side, stretching just enough to rest a tiny paw against your cheek.

Your heart melted. “Aw, Agatha, look-”

“No.” Agatha sat up, glaring at the kitten. “I refuse to be a secondary character in my own bed.”

You laughed, utterly charmed. “He just loves me, baby.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I love you.”

You gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you do.”

“Then act like it.”

You giggled again, pressing a kiss to Salem’s little head.

Agatha bristled. “I swear,” she muttered, throwing herself back against the pillows again. “This is witchcraft. He’s bewitched you all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Agatha, he’s just a cat.”

Agatha sat up so fast you startled.

“No,” she said darkly, eyes narrowing at the tiny ball of fluff curled in your lap. “He’s a threat.”

~

The setting sun shone through your windows, casting golden light over the coven as they sat in a circle, discussing plans for the upcoming Summer Solstice ritual.

Agatha, seated in her usual high-backed chair, had you curled in her lap, arms wrapped possessively around your waist. For the first time in days, she finally had you all to herself, without a certain feline dictator demanding your attention.

Because this time, she had planned ahead. The door to the room was magically sealed with the strongest wards she could weave into it. No amount of scratching, meowing, or pathetic manipulation would let that tiny tyrant inside.

She smirked to herself, pleased. Finally.

“So,” Lilia said, gesturing at the books in front of them, “I was thinking we could incorporate more moonstone this year. It should help amplify the energy-”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Agatha ignored it. You, however, perked up instantly, shifting in her lap. “Aw, Salem-”

Agatha’s grip tightened. “No.”

Lilia continued, unfazed. “- and I read somewhere that incorporating fresh lavender in the-”

A tiny, pitiful whimper sounded from the other side of the door. Alice gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh no, the baby!”

You pouted, starting to push yourself up. “Agatha, let me-”

“No,” Agatha repeated, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Let him cry.”

Billy’s eyes widened in horror. “Agatha, what the hell?!”

You turned, brows furrowing. “Baby, he’s sad.”

“He needs to learn,” Agatha insisted. “We are not interrupting an official coven meeting just because he doesn’t like being excluded.”

Scratch. Scratch.

A heart-wrenching mewl followed.

Billy was already half-standing. “That’s it, I’m getting the little prince-”

Agatha glared, flicking her fingers in Billy’s direction. Billy was immediately shoved back into his seat with an annoyed huff.

“Sit down,” Agatha ordered. “He is not royalty.”

Billy crossed her arms. “He is to me.”

“Yeah,” Jen agreed, flipping a page in her book. “Kinda sounds like you’re being a bad mom.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I am not his mother.”

The scratching continued.

You squirmed again. “Aggie, please-”

Agatha huffed in exasperation. “No! You are wrapped around his tiny little paw, and if we keep giving in, he’ll just keep winning.”

Jen raised a brow. “Winning what? He’s a kitten.”

Agatha gestured at you dramatically. “He stole her from me!”

The room went silent.

Then Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh my gods”.

Billy cackled. “You *are* losing to a kitten.”

Agatha shot him a look. “I am not losing-”

At that exact moment, Salem let out the most pitiful, heartbroken little cry any of them had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in distress. “Aggie-”

“Oh, for the love of- fine.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Agatha finally released the spell.

The door flew open.

And in strutted Salem, tail high, eyes smug, like he knew he had just won.

Agatha gawked. “You manipulative little-”

Before she could even finish, you had already scooped Salem up into your arms, cradling him against your chest like a precious treasure.

“Ohhh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his tiny head. “Mommy was so mean to you, huh?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

Alice glared at her. “I can’t believe you locked him out.”

Jen snorted. “I can.”

Billy shook his head in disappointment. “Shameful behavior from our fearless leader.”

Agatha scowled as Salem gave her a very deliberate slow blink, curling up in your arms like he owned the place.

Which, apparently, he did.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This is witchcraft.”

Jen snorted. “He’s just a cat, Agatha.”

Agatha shot her a dark look. “He’s a threat.”

Billy immediately fell off his chair laughing.

[amourquinn]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ; quinn hughes

( short fic )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1k

genre : fluff, tiny bit of angst warnings : implicit mention of nudity

summary : after a tough game leaves quinn frustrated and exhausted, you comfort him in gentle ways reminding him that he deserves care just as much as he gives it

the front door creaked open, and you immediately knew it was quinn by the sound of his footsteps shuffling into the apartment. you glanced up from where you were chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter, your eyes catching sight of him as he dropped his gear bag near the entrance. his shoulders were slumped, his head hung low, and his expression was a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“hey,” you called softly, setting the knife down and wiping your hands on a towel. “rough night?”

he didn’t respond immediately, instead letting out a long sigh as he leaned against the counter. “yeah,” he muttered finally, running a hand through his damp hair. “nothing went right tonight. i felt slow, couldn’t keep up, and i kept making stupid mistakes.” he shook his head, his jaw clenching. “i was useless out there.”

“don’t say that,” you said, walking over to him. you reached up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “you had a bad game. it happens.”

“i know,” he replied, his voice heavy with frustration. “but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”

you could see how much the night had taken out of him—physically and mentally. his cheeks were flushed, his eyes tired, and his entire body seemed to be weighed down by the stress he was carrying.

“everything hurts,” he admitted after a moment, his voice softer now.

your heart broke for him, and without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug. “you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, quinn,” you murmured against his chest. “let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

he hesitated for a moment before nodding, his arms coming up to wrap around you. “okay.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him. “go sit down for a few minutes. dinner’s almost ready.”

he nodded again, shuffling over to the couch and sinking into it with a groan. you quickly returned to the kitchen, finishing up the pasta and plating two servings. carrying the plates over to the coffee table, you sat beside him, nudging his shoulder gently.

“eat,” you encouraged, setting the plate in his lap.

quinn gave you a tired smile and picked up his fork, taking a few bites. “thanks,” he murmured.

you stayed quiet while he ate, not wanting to press him for more conversation until he’d had a chance to unwind a little. once he was done, you took the plates back to the kitchen and returned to find him leaning back against the couch, his eyes closed.

“come on,” you said softly, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

“where are we going?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“to the bathroom,” you replied, leading him down the hall.

when you reached the bathroom, you flicked on the light and turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the tub. you grabbed the bottle of lavender-scented bubble bath, pouring some in and swirling it around with your hand.

quinn stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “what are you doing?”

“running you a bath,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at him. “you’re sore, you’re stressed, and you need to relax. this will help.”

“a bath?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“yes, a bath,” you said firmly, turning off the water. “now, get undressed and get in.”

he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“only because i love you,” you teased, stepping aside to let him undress.

once he was in the tub, he let out a soft groan of relief as the warm water enveloped him. his head fell back against the edge, and his eyes fluttered shut. “okay, you were right. this is nice.”

you smiled, quickly undressing and sliding in behind him. you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him back against your chest, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“let me give you a massage,” you offered, pressing a kiss to his damp hair.

“please,” he murmured, his voice already sounding more relaxed.

you began to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck, your fingers working out the knots that had formed over the course of the game. quinn let out soft sighs of contentment, his body melting into yours.

“is this okay?” you asked after a few minutes, your lips brushing against his ear.

“more than okay,” he replied, his voice low and appreciative.

you took your time, working your way down his arms and then back up to his chest. your fingers moved gently over the bruises on his arms, careful not to press too hard.

“you’re too good to me,” he said softly, turning his head slightly to look at you.

“you deserve it,” you replied, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. “you do so much for everyone else, quinn. let me do this for you.”

his lips curved into a small smile, and he closed his eyes again, letting himself fully relax in your arms.

after a while, the water began to cool, and you helped him out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “come on,” you said, leading him to the bedroom.

after changing into comfortable clothes, quinn crawled into bed, his body clearly still heavy with exhaustion. you disappeared briefly to grab a glass of water for him, setting it on the nightstand before climbing in beside him.

“lie down,” you said softly, patting your lap.

he hesitated for a moment before resting his head on your thighs, letting out a content sigh as you began running your fingers through his damp hair. your other hand traced gentle patterns along his jawline, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his chin.

“this is nice,” he murmured, his voice already thick with sleep.

“you deserve nice,” you replied, your voice soft.

quinn’s breathing began to even out, and you watched as his features softened in sleep. you continued stroking his hair, your fingers gentle and soothing.

“goodnight, love,” you whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

and as quinn slept peacefully in your lap, you felt nothing but love for the man who had given you his whole heart—and who trusted you to take care of his.

© amourquinn

[heeikeuu]

In Your Embrace Is My Solitude

» how lads men comfort you during a panic attack

» pairing – lads x fem!reader

» genre – fluff, comfort, romance

» warnings – blood, panic attacks, teeny tiny angst, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

note: my first official lads fic! Sorry for any typos in advance, enjoy!

ZAYNE:

Returning from a rough mission, you were badly injured and needed to attend to your wounds immediately. However you couldn't stop thinking about how you childishly fought with your fiance this morning because he kept telling you to not go alone on this mission but you argued back that you weren't a little girl and could handle yourself. But those words came to bite you right in the ass as you returned home at 1:30am covered in blood. It was hard to tell if it was mostly your blood or the wanderers. You weakly made your way to the hallway. You were nervous to face Zayne because you didn't want to burden your already tired and hard-working fiance, knowing he already does so much for you. What you didn't know is that he was sitting in the living room, worried sick, waiting for you. Your body froze seeing him. He looked at you and felt his heart drop. He instantly made his way to you, "What happened? Darling, are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?" His questions were rushing, but you could barely hear him anymore. Your anxiety spiked up further as you buried your face in his warmth. Zayne wasn't sure if he should hold you or not because he didn't want to make your injuries worse, but then he heard faint sobs and "I'm sorrys." Leave your lips. His heart ached, but he held back his tongue from scolding you. Instead, he gently inspected your body and held you. Your knees felt weak, and so did your entire body. Before you could collapse, Zayne carried you to the bedroom to care for your wounds and clean you up. Your body was still shaking as he wiped off the blood. Though Zayne wasn't a man of many words, he gently held your hand, "Next time, I'll be more careful, I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, "there is no need to apologize, darling. There will be no next time, I won't let you get hurt like this ever again."

SYLUS:

The night was very lively. You would argue too lively as the air felt stuffy. You had agreed to attend a charity event with your lover. However, you underestimated just how well known he would be during this event. You felt very uneasy, like eyes were on you almost as if they were trying to cut through the depths of your soul. Feeling your ears ringing as you were spacing out without realize. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand hold your own which was clamy, looking up you notice it was Sylus, he looked at you knowingly with a soft gaze and squeezed your hand twice, asking you if you're okay. You didn't want to ruin the night, so you simply nodded and flashed the best fake smile you could muster up, but he wasn't convinced. Pulling you towards his chest, he whispers to you, "Honey, if you're not feeling, we can always go home. There is no pressure to stay here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words eased your heart, making you calm down a bit more. Looking up at him, you no longer wanted to protest. Scared to use your voice, you just nodded again. He gently yet with a firm grip took your hand again and led you to his car to go home. His job was done for the night, and his wife was his top priority no matter what.

CALEB:

Waking up from a nightmare, you felt your sweaty body shake as you were trying to process that it wasn't real. Your hand instinctively reached out to your right side, expecting to feel your boyfriend next to you. However, you don't. You felt your anxiety spike up even more. You hadn't even bothered to check your phone or the time. You quickly got up from your shared bed and went to look for Caleb. You looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Tears flooded your vision further, scared that something happened to him like it did in your nightmare. What if he got into a fight with wanderers like the ones in you saw, you started pacing, heart pounding, hyperventilating now with tears streaming down your face because you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend was that you couldn't promise to live a 100 years with him. After 2 minutes passed, you didn't seem to notice the soft click of the apartment door opening and closing, caleb came into view. Shocked at your state. Without hesitation, he immediately set down the groceries he got to make breakfast for you on the ground and ran up to check on you. Your body froze once you saw him and immediately ran into his arms. He held you protectively, "shhhh, I'm here, angel. Look at me, yeah?" He spoke ever so gently as he held your face in his hands. Looking at him, through your blurred vision, you see him kiss your tears away, his warmth a sharp contrast to how cold your body felt. "Do you want a distraction or a hug, angel?" He asked carefully, "a hug," you whispered. He held you until you calmed down and soon made you both breakfast to eat as it was 6am.

XAVIER:

You didn't mean to, but you had been spacing out too often today. You felt uneasy and kept trying to distract yourself however you could. You and Xavier were cuddling on the couch, watching old films together, but as Xavier was talking to you and explaining the movie's plot, you kept absentmindedly nodding. He eventually caught on and grabbed your chin, making you face him. "What's wrong, starlight? You've been out of it since this morning," He asked sweetly while carefully observing your body language. He noticed. He saw the way your eyes got ever so glossy, how your hands were sweaty, your fast heartbeat, and how you tried to discreetly stop your legs from shaking. You tried to speak but kept stuttering, "deep breaths, slowly." He talked you through it while holding your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other, bringing impossibly closer to him. You had trouble controlling your mind and often had panic attacks due to your intrusive thoughts. They always came unexpectedly and you couldn't stop them. You had been suppressing your feelings since this morning, but you ended up breaking down in front of your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," you voice muffled as he brought you to his chest, softly petting your hair and rocking back and forth with you in his arms. "It's okay, starlight. I'm not mad, I won't go anywhere, and yes I made sure to turn off the stove earlier" he joked at the last part making you giggle softly at his attempt to make you smile. You stayed like that for a while, feeling whole and safe in his arms.

RAFAYEL:

You were out with your friends having a great time after not seeing them for a long time, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of someone's piercing gaze on you. You brushed it off a few times. It's probably nothing, you thought to yourself as you excused yourself to the bathroom to wash up. Your heels clicking, but you were on high alert of your surroundings. Too high that you got lost in your mind, "going somewhere, miss?" An eerie voice spoke, flinching slightly. You look up and notice a strange man looking at you like you were deer caught in his trap. His smile got wider as he stepped closer to you. Shit what do I do, I don't have my weapons on me, you notice he had a knife, trapped between his large body, you felt your body and mind panic, you felt the cold dagger pressed closer to your pulse point drawing some blood in its awake. You tried to rack your brain on how to escape this situation swiftly, "You tell that lousy boyfriend of yours to not meddle in my business," the man threatened with a crazy look in his eyes. Rafayel? As if on que, your thoughts came to a halt as you heard his voice, the next few seconds were all a blur as you saw the man being pinned against the hallway walls with a deadly grip, "touching a woman without permission is a lousy move," Rafayel's voice said mockingly, "but touching my woman without her permission is a death wish." He spoke as the man cried in fear apologizing again and again. Rafayel wasn't having any of it. He threw the man onto the ground roughly before his gaze softened as he turned to look at you. Holding you in his arms, "shhh, it's okay, cutie, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, yeah?" His tone ever so sweet and soft. Your shaking body slowly calmed down afterward. Part of you knew that if you weren't here right now, that man would've been killed off in cold blood, yet you weren't scared of Rafayel. You knew he could never hurt you or let anyone hurt you.

Special tag; @imaluvsj7

© heeikeuu | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[dafterdarling]

just me and you // alexia putellas

alexia putellas x lioness!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol

summary: you desperately need a date to viv and beth's wedding and alexia happens to be there

word count: 1963

You look down at the white envelope in your hand, your name is written in elegant script on the front with a small smiley face that must have been added after the fact.

You smile back at it.

You don't even have to open it to know that it's for Beth's wedding but you rip it open anyway. It's the typical, we invite you to our wedding kind of stuff but what stumps you is the plus one that is given.

This is where your overthinking begins... If you don't bring anyone, you'll look a little odd but who are you supposed to bring?

The only other person at Barca that is going is Keira and she'll bring Laura.... and Ona is going to be Lucy's date and no one else knows Beth or Viv outside the professional sense.

So your options seem to reduce to no one very quickly.

You groan and throw the invitation on the coffee table before launching yourself on to the sofa, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the pillows.

God, the only way out was to meet someone before the wedding... and you had a couple of months to do so.

You begin with Tinder and promptly delete it after Ana 30 messages you for an autograph. You move on to Hinge and Bumble... you're meet with similar conservations- some ask for tickets, others for signatures. Then there are the occasional weird conversations, someone asking you whether you liked feet like they did or an in depth description of what they would 'do to you' which resulted in an immediate block.

This seemed to be going nowhere so you were about to just accept your fate and decide going alone is the best course of action until a random Tuesday training.

"So you got a date for Beth's yet?" Keira asks as she gives you a little bump with her shoulder whilst you drink your water.

You shrug and then give her a pointed look that explains everything or at least you hope it does because you don't feel like explaining all that.

She shrugs back, "You should just ask Alexia."

You snap your head to her as you spit out the water you'd been drinking- You had told her about your two year long crush on Alexia in confidence and here she was saying it out loud like it was obvious.

"What! No- absolutely not.. no just no." You sputter out, spilling water all over yourself and the grass.

Keira laughs and elbows your side to catch your attention again- you look at where or more like who she points at- It's Alexia, looking beautiful in the team issue training clothes and walking towards you.

You panic slightly, hoping she hadn't overheard your conversation since that would be a mess to sort out and your contract still had a year on it. You really didn't want to have to avoid her for a year.

"Hola." Alexia greets the two of you and bends down to collect her own water.

You mumble back a polite 'Bon dia' and look anywhere but her. Your cheeks are burning and you know you must look as red as a tomato, you pray that she doesn't notice.

Keira, who still stands next to you, elbows you again and whispers, "Just ask her, this is your chance, Y/N."

You shake your head frantically and are about to say something but Alexia beats you to it.

"What are you talking about?" Her accented English reaches your ears and you feel the tips off them heat up.

You are about to make up some excuse or just blatantly lie but Keira tells her the truth.

"We got invited to a teammates wedding and Y/N is trying to find a date but she's got no luck." Keira jokes.

You look at her with sharp eyes and then laugh lightly trying to play off your awkwardness with a smile. Alexia smiles back at you and that makes it a hundred times more difficult not to lose your cool when you notice just how radiant she looks when she smiles.

"I think I'm just gonna go alone for this one."

"What- no.." Alexia thinks for a moment, "It not bad luck to go alone?"

You bite your tongue as you try not to blush at her broken English. She was right, it was probably bad luck to go to a close friends wedding alone but you couldn't ask her... Could you?

"I go with you?"

And this time you snap your head in Alexia's direction, shock written all over your face.

"It will be fun, no?"

You nod trying to hide the growing feeling in your heart as she speaks to herself in Spanish that you don't understand.

The months pass quickly and you almost forget about the wedding altogether with Champions League games piling on top of the league and the cup adding to the stress with you trying to supress your feelings as the cherry on top of the cake.

It all comes to a halt when Alexia asks you what you plan to wear one evening after a match.

"What you wearing?" She askes, leaning against the wall as you zip your coat up, "To the wedding." She clarifies and you swear you can see blush on her cheeks but you play it off as lighting.

Your heart does a little flip when you hear her voice and then immediately sinks when you realise you haven't thought about your clothes yet.

Alexia must notice it too as suddenly her hand is on your bicep, rubbing up and down reassuringly.

"What.." You cough, trying to hide your blush, "What are you wearing?"

You try to steer the conversation away from you and it works for a brief moment.

"A dress.." She chuckles, "Maybe yellow? It will be summer, no?"

You nod, not much matches yellow and you weren't planning on wearing a dress.. no matter how hot it was going to be. Plus, did Alexia even want to match with you? It's not like... you were a couple or something.

Even though... deep down you wished you were.

"You.. wear a suit, no?" Alexia smiles at you kindly.

You snap out of your thoughts and raise your brows in shock but nod along.

"Classic is best."

And you once again find yourself nodding along and then suddenly she leans in to kiss you on the cheek as a goodbye. It makes you blush furiously and sputter out your own goodbye in horrible Spanish.

You keep her words in mind later that evening when buying your clothes, opting for black seeing as Alexia was most likely to approve of that.

But just to make sure, you send her a screenshot to which she responds with a heart, making your own one grow tight for a moment.

The wedding rolls around quicker than you'd expected.

After lifting the Champions League with Barca for the third time, you find yourself in a garden decked out with beautiful flowers and soft music playing as you wait for Viv and Beth to finish their photos after the ceremony.

Alexia returns with your drinks and you thank her as you blush. She looks beautiful, pale yellow dress fitting wonderfully into the wedding and the cut allows the most tasteful eyeful of her.

An eyeful you try not to make apparent.

You can a large gulp hoping it will calm your nerves but all you feel is the alcohol. Suddenly, you can't tell whether it's Alexia or the drink making you feel is light headed.

"You..." You start and then suddenly stop when Alexia looks at you. You blush under her gaze but continue anyway, "You look nice.. I mean beautiful... yeah really pretty.."

You wish you could smack yourself for that one but you're in a public space and Alexia is right next to you.

"Gracias." She says and you swear it's blush on her cheeks too but maybe it's just the low lighting.

She's about to continue but Leah spots you out of the corner of her eye and wanders up to you, greeting you with a tight hug.

"Was it your plan to look like a bumble bee couple or what?" She jokes and laughs.

Your eyes widen and you go to correct her but Alexia is already speaking over you.

"We think it's cute, no?" She wraps an arm around your waist and yours automatically makes it's way to her bare shoulders.

Any thoughts of denying Leah's assumption go flying out the window when Alexia is slotted into your side. Instead you happily chat away until it's time for the first dance.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind- the party is fully going now and it's safe to say that you're buzzed, if not even a little drunk after the amount you've had.

You're leaning against the bar, resting your face against the cold marble when a hand tugs you off your barstool and onto the dancefloor.

You yelp as your being dragged away from the comfort of the bar and are about to protest when you notice it's Alexia. Her hands are on your forearms and she's jumping up and down to the beat, urging you to dance along with her.

You grin, the alcohol mixing with the excitement- making all nervousness you have have had before fade away. It's now that you notice the light layer of sweat on Alexia's skin, it makes her baby hairs stick to her forehead but it makes you fall in love harder and want her that little bit more.

You feel as though your suffocating in your jacket and hot air fills your lungs every time you can a breath but you could careless if it means you get to dance with Alexia.

The same Alexia you'd fallen in love with on your first day at Barca and the same one that was with you now.

The fast dance song fades into a slow romantic one that you briefly recognise from some film and Alexia's hands slide from your arms to your shoulders prompting you to put yours on her waist.

Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that Alexia's hands are on you again but you blurt out three words that could ruin everything, "I like you."

Alexia freezes in your arms and for a moment you think she's going to run off but instead she leans forwards to rest her head against your shoulder and chuckles into your ear.

"I know, carino,"

You laugh in shock and then she runs a hand down your nape, making you shiver with anticipation.

"I like you too... a lot." Alexia admits whilst the two of you sway gently to the music.

For an instant, it's like there is no one else but her and so you lean back to look at her before putting your lips on hers.

The kiss is as sweet as you expected it to be- you can taste the alcohol on her tongue and you're sure she can taste it on yours but it doesn't matter because she's kissing you back.

Your hands tighten on her waist, trying to keep you both upright as she kisses you back passionately. You hear a whistle in the background that sounds a lot like Lucy's but you ignore it.

Instead, when the kiss breaks apart, you lean your head on her shoulder and find yourself relaxing when she doesn't pull away from you.

You whisper sweetly into her ear, "It was like.. there was just me and you for a moment then.."

You can feel Alexia smile and it makes your heart tighten like it's about to explode. Knowing that she felt it too.

[goldfades]

joe burrow x popstar

watching edits together and getting so surprised by how freaky ppl are

warnings: nothing but fluff!!!

It starts with Joe’s arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the bare skin of your shoulder. The TV flickers in front of you, some forgettable show playing in the background, its dialogue drowned out by the comfortable silence you’ve both perfected over time. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

Your phone is in your lap, screen dim until curiosity—or maybe boredom—gets the best of you. A harmless scroll through social media, a pit stop at the tagged photos section, and suddenly you’re spiraling.

“Oh my God,” you blurt out, sitting up straighter, your thumb jabbing the screen with newfound urgency. “Joe. Joe, look at this.”

He leans in without hesitation, chin practically resting on your shoulder, his body radiating that signature warmth. His eyes squint a little, adjusting to the smaller screen, before widening in real time as the video plays—a fan edit, dramatic music swelling, quick cuts of the two of you like you’re the lead roles in some forbidden romance movie. Except it’s not just stolen glances and soft smiles. No, these people are bold.

Very bold.

Joe’s brow arches, mouth falling open slightly. “Is that—did they just—”

“They did.”

You don’t even finish the sentence because the next clip is somehow worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. And honestly, you’re not sure if you want to laugh, cry, or throw your phone across the room.

“Why is it in slow motion?” Joe asks, genuinely perplexed, his voice low and warm against your ear.

“Because that makes it dramatic,” you deadpan, thumb hovering over the screen like it might self-destruct. “Obviously.”

Joe snorts, the sound bursting out of him, and that’s what does it—you both dissolve into laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless and aching. He leans back, his head hitting the cushion with a soft thud, one hand clutching his chest like the sheer absurdity physically hurts.

“Play it again,” he gasps between laughs.

You oblige, because how could you not? The video is somehow funnier the second time around, now that you’re prepared for the dramatic zooms and questionable song choice (yes, False God by Taylor Swift). Joe wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head.

“Do people really think we look at each other like that?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

You glance at him, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the faint flush on his cheeks, the curve of his smile.

“I mean,” you tease, nudging his knee with yours, “they’re not completely wrong.”

His laughter softens into something quieter, something warmer. He shifts, leaning in again, his hand finding yours without thinking, fingers threading together like they always do. The TV is still on, the fan edit paused mid-dramatic frame, but none of that matters now.

“Yeah,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Guess they’re not.”

And just like that, the absurdity of fan edits fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of his gaze, the comfort of his touch, and the quiet realization that maybe the fans see something you’ve both known all along.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[rayraelleaizawa]

They're going hard on you

TW: none i think

gn!reader

Short stories of when OP men go hard on you out of worry

Characters: Shanks, Trafalgar Law

Shanks

You sat in the captains office and looked at Shanks who was unusally quiet. You had an anxious feeling in your guts. You knew you had fucked up, but you didnt think he would be that mad.

The red hair pirates docked at some uninhabited island, and you were assigned to not leave the ship since Shanks wasnt sure how dangerous the island would be. But when you saw a strange animal falling from a tree and into a river, trying desperately not to drown and reach the shore again but couldnt make it, you left the ship and jumped into the river and helped the animal out of there. The scared animal didnt realice you only wanted to help him, and trashed around in your grip and scratched and bit you.

When Shanks and a part of his crew came back from exploring the island, and he saw that you were standing on deck, soaked from head to toe and trying to clean up your bloody injuries, his usually carefree face fell. He wore an unreadable expression as he told you to come into his cabin when Hongo was done treating your wounds.

Now, half an hour later and bandaged up, you sat in Shanks office and looked at your lap. He still had that unreadable expression on his face and you werent sure in what kind of trouble you were right now. You had breaken the rules before, nothing too bad, but he never acted like that because of you. You thought that he'd understand why you left, everyone knew that you had a soft spot for animals.

You anxiously waited for him to start talking, but he didnt even look at you. After another silent ten minutes, he finally said something.

"What did Hongo say?"

"He said that it is nothing too bad, just some scratches. I need to go check up regulary tho in case of infection and if I feel weird I am supposed to go to him instantly. Hongo checks the books right now if the animal that bit me is poisenous or not."

You gladly would have left out the last part, but you knew you shouldnt do that right now. He would talk with Hongo and find out anyway.

There was another short silence before he spoke again.

"What did I tell you to do? No, what did I order you to do?"

"To stay on the ship" you quietly said.

"And what did you do?"

"I...left the ship."

"You disobeyed my orders. That's what you did. No matter what relationship we two have, I am your captain and you have to follow my orders like everyone else on this ship."

You were quiet for some time. You didnt mean to disappoint him, but you didnt think about his orders when you saw that helpless animal fighting for its life.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to help the-"

"I dont care what you wanted to do. You had clear orders. Orders, which were meant to protect you. Protect you from exactly those animals that hurt you. We have no idea if they are venomous, or aggresive, or a religious species for any natives that live here."

You stayed silent. The uneasy feeling in your stomach growing by the second. Sadness and fear joined that feeling too. You thought he'd understand you, but in the end you just disrespected him infront of his crew with ignoring his orders.

"I'm sorry for messing up" was all you could get out in that moment, and you heard Shanks sigh. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to you.

"What am I supposed to do with you? Even when i try to protect you you still seem to find a way to end up in Hongos medical office. Why cant you just listen to me?"

His tone was softer than before, and you finally dared to look up at him. He had a worried expression on his face.

"I- I didnt think in that moment" you admitted as he bend his tall frame down to you, looking at your bandaged hand where that animal bit you.

"You have no idea how it felt to see you all bloody on deck. How it feels to know that you could die if that animal was highly venomous" he said, gently touching your arm.

You avoided his eyes and looked at the stump of his left arm.

"Yes I do know how that feels. I didnt want to make you experience this too. I'm sorry."

He sighed again, moving his hand under your chin and forced you gently to look him in the face.

"Never do that again. I love you too much for that."

Trafalgar D Water Law

You didn't look at him as he walked past you. You both ignored each other since the argument you had. You felt frustrated and angry at him, but mostly because he was right.

There was an emergency at the submarine, something about the boiler malfunctioning in the middle of the night. You were the closest to it so you tried to fix it, but you werent an engineer - you weren't sure what to do so you just improvised and tried your best until the persons who knew what to do came. Before that happened, hot water splashed onto your arm leaving a nasty burn on it.

Law had bandaged you up, but you noticed something wasn't right with him so you asked him. Which resulted in a heated argument between you two which ended with him snapping at you.

"If you have no idea of something then why do you even try? You're no help here, we just have more work now because of you."

Your eyes got teary when you thought back to his words, but it hurts even more knowing he was right. He had more work because he had to bandage you up, while your crewmembers probably had to fix the boiler more because you damaged it even more with your improvised actions.

You self doubted your worth on this crew now. Sure, you knew how to fight, but that was it. You could bandage up small injuries and cook, but in the end everyone knew how to do that. You had no specialty like the others.

With frustration bubbling up inside you that your captain and lover thought of you as an useless inconvinience, you started working even more. You didn't take a break, you just cleaned the Polar Tank or trained. The burn on your arm hurt most of the time, but you didn't care. You wanted to prove yourself that you weren't just on this crew because you and the Captain were dating.

You asked Shachi if he could explain to you how the boiler and stuff worked. He was perplexed as why you wanted to know that, but you convinced him with saying that next time an emergency happend you could actually help. He agreed, tho he knew that Law wouldn't be so happy about you working when you're already injured.

He explained stuff to you in the engine room and of course, no other than Trafalgar D. Water Law walked in on you two while you were trying to name some parts of the enginge. He looked displeased and coldly said your name and then just walked off.

You didn't want to follow him, but knew that he would be even more pissed if you ignored him. He led you two to the infirmary and told you to sit on the exam table. He then grabbed your hand and unwrapped your bandanges.

"What do you think you're doing, y/n-ya?" he spoke calmly, but you immediately noticed that he was holding back.

"Learning new stuff so next time i can actually help" you answered in a snippy tone.

"You won't do anything next time. I don't allow you to" he said while turning around.

You started to argue back that you just tried to be a help when he interupted you mid-sentence.

"How do you want to be of help when you cant even look after your own wound!"

"You were the one who told me I wasnt capable of anything, and now it's wrong when i try to become usefull!" you almost yelled back, tears of frustration and hurt in your voice.

"I never said you weren't capable of anything, I simply stated that-"

"You said I am no help, that I have no idea what I'm doing and that you all have more work because of me!"

A tear rolled down your face and you started shaking slightly as Law looked at you with widend eyes. He grabbed his hat and pulled it over his eyes as he looked down.

"That wasn't what I meant. I just...you got hurt on my submarine while I was present. I- you shouldn't have gotten hurt when I'm there to protect you."

You looked at him with wide eyes, the tears now streaming down your face.

"You are more than capable of sorting stuff out on your own, you are a big help to everyone on this crew. I didn't mean to insult you or tell you you aren't worthy to be here. It's just...this could have ended up bad. And now I see you working in there again. I can't have you getting injured when I'm just a few feet away" he added as he walked towards you and grabbed your face so you'd look him in the eye.

"I want you to be safe, y/n-ya. And i failed to do that. You and this crew, you're everything I have. I'm a doctor but I can't heal everything. I'm sorry for insulting you, my heart."

Your eyes softend at the last nickname he called you. It wasn't often that he used it, which made it even more special when he did. He is a big softy and constantly worried about you. You laid your head to his chest and murmured an apology, while he leaned down and kissed your hair.

[immoral-stranger]

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏. 🍓 “You’ve never done me wrong, except for that one time we don’t talk about.” – Boygenius, True Blue.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none? maybe they're a little horny? this shit is too sweet. it'll give you cavities. oh and you need to have read linger beforehand to understand the dynamic and characters in this.

A/N: my babies Lando and Bunny make a comeback. takes place like a year after the original fic. please tell me what you think ♡

Summer break for Lando usually consisted of long days on a beach somewhere warm. Yachts, beach clubs, and sand between his toes. After dusk, his summer break consisted of long nights in the VIP section at some club. House music, sweaty bodies, and alcohol. 

Getting up at 8 in the morning to take a casual jog around a suburban area in England wouldn’t have been on his agenda if you’d had asked him a year ago when he was painfully single. 

Now, there was no place he’d rather be. Now, summer was different. It was softer, simpler, an, to his complete and utter surprise, infinitely better.

Because you didn’t like Ibiza, or Saint Tropez, or even Monaco. You would compromise and say that it was fine at times, but Lando could see through you like glass. You tolerated the extravagance, but it never made you light up in the same way being at home did. Would it have been easier if you liked the country he lived in? Sure, but it wasn’t like Lando hated England. With a certain disconnect, he actually loved the place. He grew up there. His family was there. You were there. 

So, as much as his phone pinged with Instagram stories of his friends posing behind DJ booths or lounging on sunbeds, he didn’t envy them. He couldn’t complain. 

Not when he was jogging through the quiet streets of your neighbourhood, the soft morning breeze brushing against his skin, the world still drowsy with sleep.

Not when he knew what was waiting for him when he got back—what he would find as he ran up the pathway to your childhood home, up the stairs, and behind the door with a Moulin Rouge poster blu-tacked to it.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he slowed to a walk, approaching the house that had, over time, started to feel more like home than his own place. He jogged up the front steps, slipping inside, already anticipating the comfort of warm, sleepy domesticity that awaited him upstairs.

But first, a shower. He wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t crawl into bed with you, still sticky from his run. And he made tea—you liked waking up to tea.

The old wooden floors creaked as he entered your bedroom. He felt himself smiling before he could even take in the full sight of you. You were sat on the bed, a notebook in your lap as you scribbled down something, chewing on your bottom lip in concentration. He loved your bedroom. It warmed his heart over and over again to step into an atmosphere that was you and only you. A white, sheer canopy hung over your bed, twinkling even in the bright summer morning from the fairy lights tangled up in it. 

He recognised the t-shirt you were wearing as one that had once been his, but he didn’t complain. How could he? Beneath it, just visible, were underwear he’d given you as a joke—because buying you expensive lingerie was pointless when your favourite style was always cheeky boy shorts. These, in particular, were innocent enough in white cotton—except for the bold, hot pink Playboy bunny logos scattered across them. 

Lando had developed a habit of getting you things with bunnies on them, and you had developed a habit of wearing them just to humour him.

“Morning, Bun-Bun.” 

Your head lifted, eyes blinking away the haze of deep focus. You still looked newly awakened. He could see the way your mind slowly reeled itself back from wherever it had wandered as you took in the sight of him, freshly showered and shirtless in your doorway.

“Oh, you made tea?” Your voice was soft as you reached for one of the mugs he was carrying, fingers curling around the warmth. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Lando grinned, climbing onto the bed beside you. He settled against the headboard, careful not to spill his own tea as he stretched his legs out beneath the covers. “Only daily.” 

He had never been one to crave stillness before—his life had always been a constant blur, and he liked it that way. But here, in your childhood bedroom, wrapped in soft edges and familiar scents, he felt something rare; he felt safe. It was almost like make-believe, the canopy overhead and your floral seersucker bedsheets making him feel as if he’d tumbled into a fairytale, Alice in Wonderland-style. And for once, he wasn’t desperate to leave.

You looked over at him as you took a long sip of your tea. Wordlessly, he took your mug when you were done, placing it on the nightstand together with his own. Your gaze flickered down to his bare chest, lingering for half a second too long before your brows lifted. 

“You should really put a shirt on,” you remarked. 

Lando’s laughter was low and unbothered. “We’re alone in this house.” 

“What if my dad comes home? Or Matteo decides to get a ride home with one of his friends?” 

Lando exhaled through his nose, amused. You always found things to question. Even the littlest things. Or things that didn’t even make sense half the time. He was lucky he liked hearing your voice so much. If he had once believed you to be shy and reserved, he now knew the opposite. 

“Your dad is still in Manchester for work, which is fourhours away. And need I remind you that Matteo asked for us to pick him up from his sleepover at one o’clock? It’s only nine,” he explained, smiling. “Admit it, you just don’t want to see me shirtless because it’s distracting.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you tucked your legs beneath you, pulling your notebook closer. “Okay, yeah. I really need to finish this.” 

If you hadn’t been so intent on finishing what you were writing, and if Lando hadn’t revelled in the tranquillity of the morning, he would have already pinned you beneath him, taking you—devouring you—right there under the twinkling canopy. No hesitation. No shame. Just want. Just need.

But it could wait. All you had was time with each other. That was a beautiful thing in and of itself. 

Lando shifted, inching closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he peered down at your scrawled-out notes. The faint scratch of your pen against paper filled the comfortable silence. He couldn’t really see what words you were writing down, but he knew why you were writing and that it was becoming slightly urgent to finish it.

“I still can’t believe they’re making us do this,” Lando groaned after a moment. “Holding a speech at their wedding? Couldn’t they have asked Oscar’s sisters? Or Jasmine’s overly excited mother?” 

“They wanted one simple, nice, and kind speech,” you reminded him. “Oscar’s sisters would roast him into oblivion, and Jasmine’s mother would never stop crying. You know this as much as they do.” 

Lando huffed. “But still, Bunny… I’m too awkward.” 

“Which is why we’re doing it together. You’re lucky I’m such a good actor.” 

“That you are.”

Lando watched as you scribbled down another note, the glimmer of determination in your eyes something he could never get enough of. 

A simple, late summer wedding in the English countryside. Just mere weeks away, and you and Lando were toastmasters. He hadn’t even known that was a thing before Jasmine had run him over with wedding preparations. You were, of course, also her maid of honour. Lando had already seen the dress she had picked out for you, and while the wedding was an exciting thing overall, he really couldn’t wait to see you all dolled up in a gown. 

“Have you written anything yourself?” you asked him, looking up from your notebook. 

Picking up his phone, Lando scrolled through his notes, looking for the right one. “I, uhm… I wrote down a little joke about the first time he introduced me to Jasmine and how she said she would hang me by my underwear from a flagpole outside the MTC if I ever crashed into him.” 

“Sounds like her,” you laughed, leaning over to see his screen, practically falling over him in the process, making a mess of the ruffled sheets between you. “Wait, you’re writing their wedding speech in your notes app?” 

Lando didn’t understand what was so wrong about it. He would have to memorise it anyway. Or, at least, he thought so. Standing there, in front of an entire wedding reception, with a cue card of sorts would feel insincere. 

“You’re writing your part in a Hello Kitty notebook with a glitter gel pen,” he pointed out, picking up your notebook, looking at your sparkly pink handwriting. 

He found even the smallest things about you completely adorable.

“It’s still more thoughtful than using an iPhone,” you shot back, grinning.

Lando draped his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer until you were nestled against him, your head resting softly on his bare chest. He glanced down at what you'd written, a smile tugging at his lips as he read about Oscar and Jasmine's first date—one you'd helped plan. It had gone horribly wrong when Oscar got lost on public transport and showed up 40 minutes late. A 16-year-old Jasmine had called you, crying, just as Oscar arrived, catching her mid-rant, snot running from her nose. From that moment on, Oscar had been completely soft for her—and probably never showed up late again.

“I can’t believe those two are getting married. They are younger than I am,” Lando heard himself say, almost sighing at the realisation.

“Mhm, because you’re so old,” you joked, your palm hitting his chest lightly. 

The two-year age gap between you and him didn’t seem like much. But seeing how Jasmine and Oscar, who were your exact age, were already so far ahead in their relationship sparked an undeniable sense of dread in him about ageing. He felt both ancient and a little behind.

“It makes sense, though. They’ve been dating since they were, what, sixteen?”

You nodded. He felt your hair as it moved up and down against his skin. “My parents had me and got married by twenty-two. It’s not that uncommon.” 

Lando’s brow furrowed. “You think Jasmine’s pregnant?” 

“That’s not at all what I said.” 

He looked down at you, catching the sheepish smile on your face. It was probably for the best. He couldn’t handle someone younger than him having kids. Especially when those kids would probably call him uncle in the future. That felt backwards. His own nieces were enough to get the cogwheels turning in his head about that he should probably start thinking about having a family of his own. 

A moment of quiet followed, the weight of his next question pressing before he even asked it. The look on his face made it clear he had something serious to say, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the bedsheet as he gathered his thoughts.

“Do you ever think about marriage yourself?” he wondered softly. 

Your breath caught slightly at the question, eyes flickering to him as you searched for his intent. “To you? Or in general?” 

Lando huffed a small, amused laugh, but there was a nervous edge to it. “I’d hope it be with me.” 

“Sometimes,” you admitted. Your voice was vulnerable, but there was no hesitation. “I think we could make it work.” 

Lando’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that made his dimples dip into his cheeks. “I want Matteo as ring bearer,” he mused, his tone lighter now, “and we’re getting revenge on Jasmine and Oscar by making them do a long-ass speech. Maybe a choreographed dance.”

You snorted. “Mhm, and what would that speech be about?” 

“Definitely how you got a nosebleed the first time I tried to kiss you.” His grin widened as he glanced at you, eyes alight with mischief. “Or how they heard us have sex through the walls of that Italian villa.” 

Your cheeks burnt at the memory, heat crawling up your neck. “Lando!” you groaned, shoving at his arm as he burst into laughter, the sound filling the space with just as much light as the sun filtering through lace curtains.

He nudged his knee against yours beneath the sheets, his laughter softening into something more affectionate. “Maybe they’ll just roast me into oblivion, because they like you more than they like me.” 

“That’s not true,” you murmured, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I don’t think they have many bad things to say about you.”

“I’ve been an idiot so many times.” 

“Nuh-uh.” You shook your head firmly. “You’ve never done me wrong… except for that one time we don’t talk about.” 

Lando blinked, confused. “Wait, what? I don’t know what moment your talking about.” 

He was forgetful and sometimes a little ignorant. In reality, he probably thought he’d done you wrong about a million different times. But he couldn’t think of a single defining moment that you would’ve deemed as the most fragile in your relationship.

“Was it when I forgot your birthday?” he guessed. 

“You’ve never forgotten my birthday?” you said, almost like a question, as a crease formed between your brows. 

“Oh, you didn’t realise? Our weekend to New York that was totally planned and not at all because Jasmine called me the night before your birthday to ask what I had gotten you?” Lando couldn’t help but let out a little pathetic laugh. 

In his defence, no one had mentioned that it was your birthday to him. And he also hadn’t thought about asking or remembering the date. He was lucky to have had time off when it did happen. One private jet and a hotel stay later, you’d had a perfect birthday in New York City, seeing a Broadway show for the first time. 

“I didn’t know about that!” you exclaimed, a look of mock horror painted on your face. “But no matter what, I still had a lovely time there, so I would never say that was a wrongdoing from your side.” 

“I guess Jasmine is better at keeping secrets than I thought,” Lando mumbled to himself, still thinking about what you could be thinking of. “Was it when I accidentally stood Matteo up? You cried and yelled at me because of that.” 

That was the first and only time you’d yelled at him out of anger. Out of sadness or anxiety, you’d done it multiple times before. But you weren’t the angry type. So when it slipped his mind that he should’ve taken Matteo to an England football game instead of Max, you had uncharacteristically lashed out on him. It wasn’t necessarily because of the game, but because of the principle of letting down an 11-year-old little boy.

“I didn’t yell,” you corrected him. 

“No, you did.” Lando smiled gently. “I deserved it, though. You were being protective of your baby brother, and I was being a muppet for not remembering what I’d promised him.” 

“It’s still not what I had in mind,” you said, shaking your head.

“Okay, you’ve stumped me. What are you talking about?” 

You bit your lip, watching him carefully before whispering,“After Brazil last year.” His face softened at the realisation. “You were awake for like two days straight and refused to speak to anyone.” 

Lando exhaled through his nose, gaze flickering down, hands fidgeting now. He was letting you continue, although he found the words difficult to hear. 

“We never really talked that through,” you continued, meeting his gaze. “And you feeling so bad and not letting me help you made me feel like the worst girlfriend in the world.” 

His hand found yours beneath the sheets, thumb stroking over your knuckles in silent apology.

“And I’ll always understand that your job is nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’ll never blame you for being distant at times or closed off because of it.” You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him. “But for two days straight? Yeah, do that again and… I’ll be the one to hang you from a flagpole.”

A breath of laughter escaped him, but it was almost out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Bun-Bun.” 

“I know you are,” you murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your lips against his skin.

A beat passed before Lando cleared his throat, picking up your notebook to stare at the messy handwriting again. “What do I get if I finish this fucking speech?” 

You smirked. “Naked cuddles?” 

“Sold.” 

“Do I not get anything? I feel like I’ve written most of it anyway,” you teased, quirking a brow at him.

Lando studied you for a moment, his lips twitching. “I think your hopeless romantic ass secretly adores doing this for them.” He kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “But sure, I can give you a reward,” he added, pressing another quick kiss just below your ear.

A third kiss was placed on your neck, and a fourth on your collarbone. You felt the wetness from his lips as he started to gently suck on your delicate skin, his hand travelling under your shirt to cup your breast in his open palm. 

“Can I play with it soft?” you whispered under your breath, swallowing down a moan. 

Lando groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow as he momentarily stopped touching you, acting appalled.

“Anything but that, Bunny. Anything but that.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

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[zippidi-dooda]

Low, melodious hums echoed through the chamber. Soft shuffling of fabric and clicks of heel on stone followed every sway and every twist, every turn.

Your eyes stayed shut, body moving in sync with your partner behind you, fully entrusting yourself to their lead.

They stood close, a lithe hand on your waist, the other in yours, guiding you along. Long hair draped over your shoulders, nose tucked against your neck, chest beating steadily against your back.

It wasn't hard to forget all that surrounded you with him so close.

You leaned further against him, free hand reaching behind to cup his soft curls, gliding across the former ballroom with ease.

"We should probably put an end to this soon."

Your partner laughed softly, the motion sending a warm blush of air against your skin. "You make it sound so dramatic."

"Well, the sun is sinking. We could pretend one of us is about to turn into a pumpkin."

Another laugh, then you were spun around.

You shifted to rest your hands on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing along the loose, white tunic hanging from his frame.

"That'd be most unfortunate. But I'm sure we can spare a few more moments." He brushed back stray strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear. "You look lovely in this lighting you know. We should come out here more often."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Alright, what do you want?"

"Nothing, my dear. Why must you always assume I work at an angle?"

A spin followed by a dip, then up again.

"Because after a few sweet words, you usually end up asking permission for something or other. And I happen to have made it my own game to guess what it'll be for next; a journey to the village, a day to peruse the hold, a moment to brood? Quite fun for me, but you do know you don't need to ask for anything? I know you'll return eventually."

He closed his golden eyes, taking one of your hands, raising it up to kiss the dorsal side.

"Yes, I know. But I wouldn't want to leave you to search in a panic. Rather not worry your brow. But there's truly nothing this time, my dear. Simply wish to remind you how gorgeous you are."

You bit back your smile and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Hm, well if you do decide to ask for something, the answer is yes."

Amber irises opened up to smile at you. His hand traveled up to caress your cheek. "Careful. You may come to rue that decision."

Your dance came to slow halt.

"That'll be a first."

A cool breeze flowed through the large windows, ebbing sunlight twinkling against the heavy, patterned glass.

"You have much faith in me."

He leaned in.

"I could ruin your day in seconds."

"Yes," you rubbed the soft pad of your thumb against the fangs peeking behind his lips. "And yet you haven't in all the years I've known you."

A breathless laugh escaped him, now resting his forehead against yours.

"It's hard to play the part of scary vampire when you act as if you've nothing to fear." He lowered your hand. "Though I quite enjoy that about you. Otherwise I'd still be slowly turning into Belmont right now."

You smiled, settling into his hold. "Yes, what a shame that'd be."

Time beat steadily between you, orange light fading to midnight.

"May I kiss you?"

You caught yourself midway through a laugh. "I told you, you don't have to ask for anything."

"Yes. But for this, I quite like to." He burrowed his fingers into your hair. "So, may I?"

Arms easing their way up to hang over his shoulders, you smiled. "You may."

"Lovely," was the last word uttered before you felt the lush kiss of his lips molding against your own

[nightingale-prompts]

(If you won't make it Clockturn I will!)

Clockwork watched as his son slept soundly in his crib. He was about to reach one of the many milestones a young halfa goes through. He would finally eat his first wisp. It wasn't unlike when a human baby eats solid food for the first time. But Daniel would likely not be able to under the care of mortals.

The ancient couldn't let this go on. Watching from afar as his son grew up where he does not belong. With people who cannot truly understand him or give him what he needs.

Danny slowly opened his eyes and began whining. His eyes and nose wrinkled as tried to retreat back to sleep. Unfortunately, dreams eluded the boy as he was pulled into the waking world. The toddler cried until someone came to check on him. The youngest of Waynes came and pulled him from the bed.

"Daniel, there is no need to cry." He said seriously, holding the toddler at arm's length before carrying him to the dining room for something to eat.

The soft sound of fluttering wings entered the space.

"He's awake already. I don't think I can take another day of this my Everlasting! He never likes waking up because he knows that I have to leave him. It's suffering!" Nocturne dramatically wailed.

Nocturne had done what he could but sadly he was still contained by his title of ancient. They were deemed too important to leave the realms without intervention from mortals. Still, Nocturne had his influence in the realm of dreams and in those fleeting moments he could hold Danny close in a curtain of space.

Nocturne joined his husband beside the monitor. His eyes wandered to the space that was Danny's nursery. The nursery had been built by both of them. Nocturne wanted the crib to be round like a nest and made from nebula clouds. He wanted stuffed animals with starlight embedded into them and a mobile real constellations hanging above Danny's head. Clockwork was more pragmatic and focused on making sure the crib was safe. He made an area for Danny to learn to crawl in, making the floor soft with blankets and rugs. Clockwork was focused on making sure Danny was developing on time.

It was what they were. Their nature.

"Somnus, please don't complain. You can at least be close to him. Besides he still sleeps most of the day." Clockwork took a heavy breath and focused on the ticking of his mechanical heart.

"Forgive me, my Everafter. I know you are in pain. We will retrieve him. I sent a squad to find him. Fright knight will surely convince them to hand over our prince." Nocturne whispered wrapping Clockwork in his swooping embrace.

"Yes, my fantasy. I pray you are right. Because if I have to take this into my own hands I fear I will rip that dimension apart." Clockwork held Nocturne's hand as he said this.

Nocturne felt a blush as he saw his love's heated glare.

(I imagined Nocturne feeding Danny a wisp like how an owl feeds their owletts dead mice. Ripping it apart for the fledgling to eat.)

Why would Clockwork de-age Danny and then just leave him in Gotham for Batman to steal? No, he'd raise that boy himself. Fuck letting others get their grubby mitts on his new son. He wants to make sure he doesn't turn evil like Dan and this is the only way he knows it will work 100%.

That is until someone summons the ancient of time and gets a baby because the portal was a little to the left.

Now Clockwork is sending ghosts to go retrieve the boy since he can't leave the realms.

[lyrenminth]

The best example

Fluff. Comforting Joe.

What you most feared was a reality, and you didn't know what to feel precisely.

You were numb, but something in the back of your mind was bothering you and if you closed your eyes, you could tell.

You weren't good enough.

You tried your best and failed in the process and now you couldn't stop overthinking every single thing you did in the past six months. What went wrong? Why it wasn't enough? Did you spent more time doing other things? Or you didn't have the same capacities as before?

You opened the chat with Joe, and read again the message he sent you in the morning.

"You're gonna get it, don't worry baby. I'm super proud"

You eyes started to fill with tears, and you couldn't read the message anymore. You let out a sob and sat on the couch, with your head between your hands, feeling the waves of pain and disappointment for yourself.

Why you weren't enough? What were going to do now? You thought about all the sleepless night that you spent studying, the games you missed and the events you skipped, and for what? The letter you received in the morning was simple and professional. Since you read the first words your stomach churned.

"We are sorry to inform you that..."

You weren't good enough. You weren't good enough and it hurt like hell.

You didn't want to call Joe or anyone. Instead you turn off your phone and stared at the wall until you eyelids were heavy.

"Love" you felt something brushing your cheeks. "Wake up"

You stirred awake, gentle blue eyes keep staring at you with curiosity and worry. The face of your husband was close to you, and for a moment you didn't thought about anything.

"Did you turn off your phone?" he asked, softly.

He knew. Oh, God he knew. Then, the rejection came back in full force, your chin quivered and you tried to hold back the tears.

"Joe" you whispered "I didn't..." you shook your head, insecure about what to say.

"Ssh, baby it's okay" he said, sitting down and pulling you across his lap, as if you were a child. His strong arms held your back, hugging you. "It's okay" he kissed your forehead and it was unusual for him to be this soft, but you needed it.

You cried, ugly crying. Nose dripping and sobbing uncontrollably type of crying. It made you feel ridiculous, but you couldn't stop.

"I really really want it, Joe" you spoke, "I try so hard and f-fell sh-short" you sobbed, hiding your face of the curve of his neck.

"I know, baby" his lips brushing your forehead once again. "It fucking sucks" you explained, the hiccup starting.

"I'm here, it's okay" he reassures once again. You soothe under his touch, suddenly aware where his hands were, over your thigh, gently rubbing, the other on your back making circles. Slowly, you breathing even out and you could feel the tension leaving your body. Joe's warm chest help you with that too. "You're the most intelligent woman I know, don't let a bad moment erase all you have done" he said.

"How do you do it?" you asked, your voice raspy and weak.

"What?"

"You're are a professional athlete, you try hard and sometimes you lose, I know you and I know that you dislike losing and makes you angry, but what do you think?" Joe fell silent for a few minutes, considering his answer. His voice more personal when he spoke again.

"You have the right to feel like shit" he replied his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. "But shouldn't be forever. Your life shouldn't be defined for a mistake or a fail, not if you didn't hurt anyone" he clarified. "I think that I will have the chances to make it right even if the first time didn't work as I wanted. I think about the things I can improve so next time it's less hard. My mistakes don't define every outcome of my life but sure help me to change the results"

You thought about it. Joe was always under pressure because of his profession, and he handled everything beautifully most of the times. You have seen his lows and highs, so you had a great example to follow.

"Thank you, Joe" you said, and gave him a peck.

"You're going to be fine, not now but soon" he told you, and you nodded. You believed it too.

There, in is his arms everything seemed easier.

[gdinthehouseee]

Neon Secrets: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: ji-yong catches you getting in your own head so he decides to shake things up and bring you along for a much needed late-night drive

word count: 5180

tags: fluff, denial, idiots in love - everyone can see it but them type stuff

ao3 link

All was silent in the rooftop practice room, save for the soft scratching of a charcoal pencil against paper. You sat curled up on the couch near the window, your notebook balanced on your knee, fingers gripping the pencil tightly. But the page in front of you remained mostly blank—just a few scratched-out lines and half-finished rhymes that didn’t feel right.

Sleep couldn’t seem to get a hold of you tonight—your mind raced with the same thoughts, replaying them over and over until they became a blur of frustration. You stared at the clock, wishing for a few hours of peace, but the ticking echoed in your ears, only adding to your agitation. 

The quiet hum of the building surrounded you, but inside your mind, chaos churned. The notebook’s blank pages mocking your every attempt to find the right words. Your thoughts were too scattered—too many ideas, too many emotions—but none of them seemed to come together. The pressure to create something meaningful weighed heavily on you, and the longer you sat there, the more frustrated you became. Naturally. You hated this feeling of being stuck, of not being able to tap into the creative flow that usually came so naturally. You had written countless lyrics before, but tonight, nothing felt right. Every word you jotted down felt forced, out of place, as if the inspiration you once had was slipping away. The longer you tried, the more you doubted yourself. What if you were losing your touch? What if your career was over before it truly had time to blossom?

"You look miserable."

You jumped slightly at the voice, snapping your head toward the doorway. Ji-yong leaned against the frame, his arms crossed and his dark eyes almost staring into your soul.

Your heart pounded, and not just because he’d startled you. "Keep your voice down," you hissed and motioned for him to come in, glancing toward the hallway. "People are sleeping."

He scoffed but lowered his voice as he stepped inside. "Relax, it’s just us up here. Unless you think someone’s hiding in the storage closet, waiting to snitch on you."

As much as you rolled your eyes, there was nothing you could do to hide the subtle smile forming on your lips. Hoping he didn’t see, you elected to return your gaze to the notebook. "What do you want?"

Ji-yong flopped onto the couch behind you. "To rescue you from whatever creative hell you’re stuck in." He glanced at the page over your shoulder, tilting his head. "Writer’s block?"

A long sigh escaped your throat. "More like ‘everything I write sounds terrible.’ I should just go to bed and try again tomorrow, but I can’t even do that for whatever reason, so I’m just kinda… stuck here, I guess.”

He was quiet for a second before drumming his fingers against the couch. "Or…"

"Or?"

"We sneak out."

You stiffened for a second, before turning around to face him. Only to realise he had leaned closer towards you. 

"You’re insane. You know everyone is asleep in the next room, right? And most of the staff? One wrong move and—"

Ji-yong held up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, I get it. But that’s what makes it fun." A playful smile tugged on his lips. "Come on. You’re stuck, I’m bored, and the walls in this place are suffocating right now. Let’s get some air."

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. This was stupid. Reckless. If anyone saw you, rumours would spread like wildfire. But at the same time… the idea of slipping away, of leaving all the pressure behind, if only for a little while—

"Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you." You quickly stood up, moving towards the door. You didn’t even bother closing the notebook or tucking the chair back under the desk. A dangerous move.

Ji-yong grinned even wider than before, already on his feet. "Deal."

He reached the door before you could, grabbed the handle and opened it for you to walk through, his typical mischievous grin never leaving his face. “Ladies first.” 

“Such a gentleman.” You quipped and walked through, not after checking the hallway first of course.

And just like that, the two of you were sneaking through the hallways, hearts racing with every quiet step.

The tension in the air was palpable as the two of you stood in the hallway, the soft sounds of your footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Ji-yong’s eyes were gleaming with excitement. 

"You sure you're up for this?" He whispered, glancing around as if expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

You hesitated, your gaze flicking nervously to the security cameras overhead. The building was still buzzing with activity, but most of the staff would be asleep by now. Still, the thought of getting caught was enough to make your heart race. "This is risky," you muttered, trying to stay calm. "If we get caught, we're in trouble."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against hers as he took a step closer. "That's what makes it fun," he said with a wink. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it attractive. Unfortunately for you, he was incredibly charming.

"Come on, I know the way."

The two of you moved quickly but quietly, sticking close to the walls to avoid being seen. The dim lighting in the hallways made it harder to spot you both, and every sound seemed amplified as you tiptoed past the security desk. The guard was hunched over, lost in the glow of his phone screen, completely unaware of the two figures sneaking past. Your pulse quickened as you tried to cover up your breathing as much as you could, but Ji-yong kept a steady pace, signalling you to stay low as you made your way toward the exit.

As you neared the door, Ji-yong reached for the handle, his hand steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them. He glanced at you one last time, a playful smile tugging at his lips once more. "Ready?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, biting back a grin. "Just don’t get us caught."

“You know I won’t.”

With one final look around, he pushed the door open, and you slipped into the cool night air, your hearts still racing but filled with the thrill of your daring escape. The moment you had stepped through the exit and carefully closed the door behind you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a sprint toward the car parked just down the street. The night air was crisp against the mostly bare skin of your arms and legs, the sound of your hurried footsteps filled the silence. Neither of you spoke—just the occasional glance over your shoulders to truly make sure no one had followed, accidentally making eye contact here and there.

Ji-yong reached the car first, fumbling with his keys as he yanked the door open. “Hurry,” he hissed, motioning for you to get in. You certainly didn’t need to be told twice. You practically dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you just as he did the same on his side. For a moment, you both sat there, frozen, chests rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. The street outside was quiet, undisturbed. You made it.

And then, as if on cue, you turned to each other, eyes wide with the weight of what you had just pulled off.

Silence.

Then—laughter.

It started as a breathless chuckle from Ji-yong, but the absurdity of the situation caught up with both of you, and soon enough, you were doubled over, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter. You pressed an ice-cold hand to your burning face, gasping for air between giggles. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leaned back against the headrest, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know, right? That was way too close.” He turned to look at you again, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You looked so scared back there.”

“Excuse me?” You began, “I was being cautious. Someone has to be the responsible one here.”

“And yet, here you are, sneaking out in the middle of the night with me.”

You rolled your eyes but, once again, couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips and the blood rushing to your cheeks. The adrenaline still buzzed in your veins, mixing with the warmth of the moment. Ji-yong shifted in his seat, tilting his head slightly as he studied you for a moment. His laughter had faded, but his expression softened, something unreadable flickering across his face before briefly looking away.

The laughter had faded, but the buzz of excitement still lingered in the air. He tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the steering wheel. “So,” he said, glancing over at you. “Where to? Or was the plan just to run away with nowhere to go?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment, leaning back in your seat as you gazed out the window. “Honestly? I didn’t think we’d make it this far.”

That made him chuckle. “Wow. Such faith in us.”

“I’m just saying, the odds weren’t exactly in our favour. But I guess you do have a way of getting people to do reckless things.”

“People?”

“Me. Specifically me.” You laughed.

His grin never left his face as he started the car, the soft rumble filling the quiet space. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering outside the windows, casting moving shadows across your faces. The world beyond the car felt distant, like a dream you were slipping through unnoticed. It was rare—to have a moment like this, away from expectations, away from the prying eyes of fans, staff, and friends alike.

Ji-yong snuck a glance at you when you weren’t looking. You were tracing patterns on your arm, brows slightly furrowed in thought. He wondered what was on your mind. He wondered if you had any idea how often he caught himself watching you like this—memorizing the way your eyes softened when you were deep in thought, the way you pressed your lips together when you were frustrated.

And if you knew, what would you think about the way Seunghyun, Taeyang, and Daesung teased him for it?

Ji-yong could still hear them now—Taeyang shaking his head with an amused smirk, Daesung’s knowing glances, and Seunghyun’s relentless, dramatic sighs. Just confess already, you’re embarrassing yourself. They never let him live it down, always pointing out the way his attention lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he always found an excuse to be around you. And as much as he brushed them off, he knew they weren’t wrong. The thought made his ears burn.

It had started one evening in the studio. Ji-yong had been half-listening to a new beat, scrolling through his phone when Seunghyun leaned over his shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Hyung,” Ji-yong muttered without looking up, already knowing what was coming.

“What is this?” Seunghyun said dramatically, tapping the screen of Ji-yong’s phone. “You’re literally smiling at your messages right now. Are you in high school?”

Ji-yong scoffed and pulled his phone away, locking it. “Mind your business.”

Daesung, sprawled out on the couch, grinned. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Taeyang let out a knowing chuckle from his spot near the desk, looking up from his own phone. “It’s always her.”

Seunghyun wasn’t letting this go. He leaned in closer, studying Ji-yong’s face. “Look at him. He’s already getting defensive. Next, he’s gonna say she’s just a friend—”

“But she is just a friend,” Ji-yong cut in quickly. Too quickly.

The room went silent for about half a second before all three of them burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, this is bad,” Taeyang teased, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Ji-yong lie so poorly in my life.”

Daesung grinned, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Bro, you don’t even talk about your crushes, but you think we haven’t noticed how different you act around her?”

“Different how?” Ji-yong challenged, crossing his arms.

“You get all… soft.”

Ji-yong rolled his eyes. “I do not get soft.”

“You do,” Taeyang confirmed. “Like earlier today, when she came by to drop off something for the manager? You barely spoke, but the second she left, you smiled to yourself like some lovesick teenager.”

“I—” Ji-yong stopped, trying to come up with a defence, but all three of them were already grinning at him. Busted.

Seunghyun clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “You’re screwed, bro.”

Ji-yong swallowed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. No. That was the last thing he needed. If you ever heard them talk like that, would you laugh? Would you tease him too? Or worse—would you start noticing the way he looked at you? The way he felt? And, as a result, would you distance yourself from him?

He had never planned for this—to care this much.

At first, it had been simple: late-night studio sessions, teasing exchanges, fleeting moments that he told himself meant nothing. But then he started noticing the way you made the air feel lighter, the way being around you felt like a break from the noise of everything else. And now, sitting here with you, watching the city pass by in the glow of streetlights, he realized he had been in trouble for a while.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice quieter than before. “So… what were you writing earlier?”

“A whole lot of nothing. Or… trying to write something, but nothing came out right.”

He glanced at her. “Typical writer’s block.”

“Feels more like an identity crisis,” you muttered, half-joking. “I don’t know. I just kept overthinking everything. Like… what if I don’t have anything meaningful to say anymore?”

He frowned at that, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “That’s not true. You always have something to say.”

You let out a small laugh, though there wasn’t much humour in it. “You sound so sure.”

“Because I am,” he said, glancing at you again before turning back to the road. “You’re one of the most passionate people I know. Even when you don’t say anything, you’re thinking—feeling. That’s what makes you good.” His voice was steady, sure. “You just don’t see yourself the way I do.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

He must have realized what he said, because his fingers drummed nervously against the wheel, and he cleared his throat. “I mean—uh, the way people who know you do.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, watching as he kept his eyes firmly on the road, as if avoiding your gaze would erase what had just slipped out. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Ji-yong.”

He shook his head quickly, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just figured something out.”

You tilted her head slightly, as if considering. “Maybe I did.”

He groaned, quickly running a hand through his hair. “This is why I don’t say things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but there was no denying the way your heart was now racing for an entirely different reason. Trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, you decided to change the subject when you realised he hadn’t explained why he was awake when he found you.

“Y’know, you never said why you were up so late.”

Ji-yong blinked, as if caught off guard. “Ah… I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is your reason dumber than mine?”

“No, just…” He hesitated before sighing. “Not that interesting.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

He hesitated again, longer this time, before answering. “Because my brain is a pain in the ass.”

That made you pause. “What do you mean?”

He let out a short, quiet laugh, but there was no humour in it. “I think too much. About everything. I’ll be exhausted, lying in bed, and suddenly my brain decides it’s time to overanalyse every stupid thing I’ve ever said, every choice I’ve ever made, every possible way I could screw something up.” He exhaled sharply. “It’s like I can never just… be.”

“You mean like anxiety?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like I panic, I just—” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “I second-guess myself a lot. Get stuck in my own head. It’s frustrating because I know it’s dumb, but I can’t turn it off.”

Something about the way he said it—the exhaustion behind his words—made your chest tighten.

“Why didn’t you just say this earlier?” you asked softly. The car came to a stop as you reached a red light.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to make it about me. You already seemed frustrated.”

“That’s stupid,” you said without thinking.

Ji-yong finally turned to you, caught between amusement and exasperation. “Excuse me?”

“You do it all the time,” you said, shaking your head. “You act like you have to be the one keeping everyone else together, but who’s doing that for you?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected the question. His fingers drummed idly on the wheel, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice quieter than before, he said:

“You.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Ji-yong let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of the way the air in the car felt different—thicker, heavier. “Realize what?”

He glanced at you again, something unreadable in his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else, something more, but instead, he just shook his head with a small smile. The traffic light finally turned green and he continued driving.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

But you wouldn’t forget. Not now. Not when the weight of his words settled deep into your chest, shifting something inside you that you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet. And judging by the way Ji-yong gripped the wheel like his life depended on it, staring straight ahead, neither was he.

At some point, the heavy weight of the conversation had lifted, giving way to laughter and much lighter topics. The city stretched out around you, a blur of neon signs and empty streets as Ji-yong drove aimlessly, neither of you wanting to break the spell of the night just yet.

The two of you talked about ridiculous things—the worst stage outfits you’d ever worn, the most embarrassing moments caught on camera, the weirdest fan gifts he had ever received. He nearly swerved when he burst out laughing at your dramatic re-enactment of a failed dance move during rehearsal, and you doubled over when he confessed to once getting trapped in a bathroom before a concert and having to be rescued by the rest of the guys and a few staff members.

The car was filled with easy conversation, the kind that only came when time didn’t seem to matter. But time did matter. And neither of you realized just how much until Ji-yong absently checked the dashboard clock.

“Shit.”

“What?” You turned to him, still grinning from your last joke.

He gestured toward the clock. 4:32 AM.

Your stomach dropped. “No way.”

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “We are so screwed.”

It took a second for the panic to fully settle in, but when it did, it was instant. You sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. “We have to get back now.”

He was already turning the car around, the easy-going vibe of the night replaced with frantic energy. “We better pray no one’s up yet.”

Your heart pounded as you mentally mapped out the best way to sneak back in, every possibility of getting caught flashing through your head. Staff members were early risers, and some of your groupmates tended to wake up for morning workouts. If even one person saw you—

“We can’t go through the front,” you said quickly. “There’s a security camera right at the entrance.”

Ji-yong nodded. “Back door. Less cameras, but we have to be fast.”

You could already imagine the absolute chaos if either of your groups or, worse, the company found out about this. You and Ji-yong locked eyes, truly realizing at the same time just how risky this had been.

Then, for some reason—maybe from sheer exhaustion, maybe from the ridiculousness of the situation—you both started laughing. Quiet at first, then full-on, uncontrollable laughter just like at the very beginning of this little side quest.

“This is so bad,” he shook his head.

You wiped the happy tears that were forming in your eyes. “If we survive this, we’re never doing this again.”

That was a lie. You both knew it.

And as the car sped through the empty streets, the first hints of morning light creeping onto the horizon, you knew this night—this feeling—was one neither of you would forget. By the time you had pulled into the parking lot, the sky had started to shift from deep navy to the softest hints of morning blue. Every second that passed made the risk of getting caught even worse.

You both moved quickly, slipping out of the car and sticking to the shadows as you made your way to the back entrance of the building. He pulled open the door as quietly as possible, wincing at the soft creak of the hinges.

“Go, go, go,” you whispered, pushing him inside.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every tiny sound feel deafening. You pressed your back against the wall, Ji-yong right next to you as you both listened for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

You exchanged a glance, and without a word, started moving.

The first challenge was the stairwell—safer than the elevators, but the risk of running into someone was still high. He went first, taking the steps two at a time, while you followed as quickly and quietly as possible. Every creak of the stairs made your pulse spike.

Halfway up, you heard a noise—a distant door closing somewhere above you. You both froze.

Ji-yong grabbed your wrist and pulled you down into a crouch against the railing, barely breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying whoever it was wasn’t coming down the stairs. The footsteps paused, then faded away in the opposite direction.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Ji-yong turned to you, eyes wide. “That was too close,” he mouthed.

You nodded frantically, your heart still hammering.

The two of you moved again, finally reaching your floor. Ji-yong peeked down the hallway before gesturing for you to follow. Your dorms were now just a few doors away, and you could practically feel freedom within reach.

You made it to the door first, pressing a hand against it for stability as you exhaled. Ji-yong stopped next to you, running a hand through his hair, a tired but exhilarated grin tugging at his lips.

“We actually made it,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You doubted me?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Ji-yong opened the door. As you stepped inside, you immediately realized you weren’t alone. The familiar voices of Taeyang and Daesung were already drifting through the room, and the instant you both walked in, the entire space fell silent.

The kitchen lights flickered overhead as you and Ji-yong froze. There, sitting casually in the lounge area, were the familiar faces of your group and his—Seunghyun leaning against the counter, a couple girls from your own group scattered around the couches, and Daesung and Taeyang, clearly wide awake.

You couldn’t even hide. You hadn’t even stepped inside before they all turned toward you.

“Well, well, well…” Taeyang’s voice rang through the silence, a grin tugging at his lips. “Look who decided to join us at five in the morning.”

Ji-yong cleared his throat, taking a step back, trying to play it cool, but his eyes flicked toward you, silently pleading for a way out. “We… just went for a walk.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow from where he stood, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A walk?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn’t find any words. The guilt, the tension, the fact that everyone was wide awake and clearly waiting for you two to walk in made it impossible to lie.

“You two are really bad at hiding,” Daesung chuckled from his seat on the couch. “Did you think no one would notice?”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving you a small, apologetic smile. “We didn’t exactly plan on getting caught.”

“Oh, but you were planning on sneaking in here, right?” One of the girls from your group smirked from the kitchen counter. “Because it’s not like we’re all waiting in here for you to walk in.”

Taeyang folded his arms, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You really thought you could just walk in and slip by us, huh?”

You let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that there was no escape now. “I guess we’re busted.”

Ji-yong leaned against the doorframe, shrugging with a small smile. “Guess so.”

Seunghyun leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied you both. “So, what exactly were you two talking about?”

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Ji-yong shifted next to you, glancing down at his shoes nervously.

“Oh, you know,” he said with an awkward chuckle, “just random stuff.”

Seunghyun snorted, clearly not buying it. “Random stuff, huh?” He shot you a look that you could read too easily. “I’m sure it was really random.”

“I bet it was super interesting,” Taeyang added with a raised eyebrow. “Just you two, talking the whole night away. So what was the real topic of conversation?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you avoided their gazes. “Nothing important,” you muttered, hoping to avoid the topic.

Seunghyun grinned from his spot, clearly enjoying every second. “Oh, we know it wasn’t nothing important.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Daesung, and the teasing only grew stronger. “In fact, I’d say it was pretty obvious.”

Taeyang tilted his head, glancing at Ji-yong with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, because you two are definitely good at hiding it.”

“Hiding what?” You shot back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice faltered slightly.

Ji-yong quickly cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “We’re just really good friends,” he insisted, his voice a little sharper than before, as if to convince not just them but himself too. He gave a small, forced smile. “Nothing more than that.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Mm-hmm. Just friends? Sure.”

“Not this again,” Daesung laughed mostly to himself. Again? What did he mean by again?

“You guys are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, trying to downplay the awkward tension growing between you and Ji-yong.

“Well, we’re not the only ones who think it’s pretty clear,” one of the girls from your group said with a knowing grin. “But if you insist…”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck again, his smile faltering. “I mean it. We’re just friends. It’s not that deep.”

Seunghyun looked at you both for a long moment, still not convinced. “Sure, Ji-yong. You’re just friends,” he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “But I’m telling you, it’s pretty obvious to all of us.”

“You’re really good at pretending,” Taeyang said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You quickly changed the subject, desperate to get away from this conversation. “Well, we didn’t exactly plan on getting caught by everyone in the kitchen.”

“I mean, it’s not like you tried very hard to hide it,” Daesung said, unable to keep his chuckle to himself. “You two always look like you’re in your own little world.”

Ji-yong sighed, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. “Can we not make this a thing?” He shot a glance at you, but you weren’t sure what he was thinking—was he upset with the teasing, or was he frustrated about something else?

Seunghyun raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright, we’ll drop it for now. But you know we’re not buying the ‘just friends’ act.”

You quickly turned toward your room, eager to escape the conversation. “Guess we’ll work on pretending better next time.”

Ji-yong followed suit, offering a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll do better,” he said, his voice lacking his usual confidence.

As you slipped into your room, heart still racing from the teasing, you exhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling lingering in your chest. It was ridiculous, really. Ji-yong was Ji-yong. One of the most sought-after idols in the industry, effortlessly charismatic, always surrounded by people who adored him. There was no way he’d look at you like that. You were just his friend—one of the few people he could relax around without the weight of expectations. And maybe that was why it stung a little. Because no matter how much your heart stuttered when he looked at you, you were certain he didn’t see you the same way.

Ji-yong barely mumbled, just out of earshot from you, before slipping into his own room, shutting the door behind him a little too quickly. He let out a quiet breath, leaning against it for a moment, rubbing his face with both hands. Why did it bother him so much? The way the others teased, the way they all acted like something between you two was so obvious. Maybe to them, it was. But to Ji-yong, it wasn’t even a possibility. You had never once looked at him like that, not in the way he caught himself looking at you. And why would you?

He sighed, pushing off the door and running a hand through his hair before collapsing onto his bed. You deserve someone better—someone who wasn’t always stuck in his own head, someone who wouldn’t second-guess everything the way he did. Someone who wasn’t him.

And so, just like every other night where his thoughts threatened to betray him, he shut them down before they could get any further. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that whatever he felt for you… it wasn’t something you’d ever return. If only he knew this is exactly what you were thinking about him, just on the other side of the wall. So close yet so far.

But that would be the least of both of your problems when you finally found out that a video of you and Ji-yong, with your hands intertwined, running to the car had gone viral. 

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