#would love to maybe render this one day

[spiders-and-swords]

Very rough sketch and color mockup of Senshi making breakfast in only an apron :side stare:

Could be interpreted as post-canon or in the slight future. I love seeing people give Senshi his own house. I think his kitchen would be very cozy and welcoming

[lmelodie]

I've decided to post this a day early as a nice cleanse from the frowny shot. Because God i love them so much. I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE DAMN IT! I almost legitimately cried while making this because I was listening to the most sickeningly sweet love songs on the planet. They live rent free in my head!!

[suguru-getos]

࿐ husband neuvillette headcanons (f!reader) ࿐

neuvillette, the most respected man in the nation of hydro, more than their archon focalors. he commands respect wherever he goes, his aura still polite, ever so approachable. however, the power of his position cowers people. they are often rendered scared to approach him, some of them literally profusely sweating around his nimble aura.

you, were his wife now, his significant other. someone he cherished more than life itself & someone who made you feel safe, heard, protected. it was said that he was the most sought out bachelor in fontaine before he left his heart for you one day. “break it or keep it. it isn’t mine anymore.” is what he said, when he proposed you. oh the words ring into your ear like the finest melodies till date.

the steambird/ the media was eager to cover everything about the wedding; but to their surprise— neuvillette took you outside fontaine. the city of freedom — monstadt is where you two tied the knot in the presence of a certain, melodious and a high alcohol simp bard.

truth be told, once you were married. there were people who forced false allegations on you. how you manipulated the chief justice into falling in love with you. how you are fake and you act in accordance to his liking to be loved by him. some people even tried to forge false cases against you. all of which— deeply entertained furina. thankfully, neuvillette was never someone to pay attention to any of these things. at one time, he himself fought for you in a false trial. you couldn’t be more thankful.

rains— the legend of hydro dragon weeping causing the rains was famous throughout the country of fontaine. one day, when neuvillette came home a little early, looking distressed, you noticed a harsh, unforgiving thunderstorm drenching the country. you walked towards the terrace, looking up and gently, soothingly whispering. “oh- hydro dragon. please don’t cry.” the rain… lessened. it was as if the intensity had been lessened.

it wasn’t more time until neuvillette confessed to you about him being a hydro dragon. ever since then, whenever there had been rains in fontaine, you make sure to find your beloved husband and hug him tightly, kiss his forehead and tell him everything will be alright. it breaks you apart seeing him like this after all.

sometimes when he comes back home, he always brings your favorite flowers, maybe your favorite desserts, along with a beaming smile only you have seen. people who are aquainted to you often ask if neuvillette being the chief justice and being the most powerful man in fontaine makes your married life difficult. truth is.. it could never. they just haven’t had any access to the good that your beloved dragon holds.

things do get riff-raffy when furina acts a little too childish around him. he pays no attention to her self-centered, self-absorbed behavior but it pinches you how she bothers him for every little thing. once, there was a celebratory banquet held for the same and your displeased face told neuvillette in that very instant — how you’d like the archon to ‘behave’ around your husband. he has been extra careful ever since. <3

your husband might look stern, but he is a soft man. you have witnessed this first hand with how respectfully and tenderly he treats you. on the bad days of your period, the chief justice is nothing but a doting husband for his wifey. you can always be snuggled up to him and cry, or just spend time.

he is a HUGE cuddle bug. would love to destress off work by wrapping his big arms around you and peppering your face with tender kisses. he smells amazing too! always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

[fuckincrow]

Olfactophilia

summary: You're dating Homelander and he's horny for your scent, pretty much porn without plot. AFAB reader, gender neutral.

warnings: homelander is a warning on his own, dubcon, scent kink, somnophilia, homelander is a pervert, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), established relationship, canon homelander behaviour

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

Homelander was not a good partner. One could hardly call him a boyfriend, whatever your endeavor with him was did not seem like a normal relationship. It was scary, you were scared of him, knowing he was at the verge of a homicidal tantrum on most days. And despite this, the only times you had witnessed his anger had been directed at others. A fellow supe, an unlucky intern, maybe Ashley. Mostly Ashley, you always thought that woman deserved a raise. But his feelings toward you were... different. It wasn't a normal kind of love, more of a dependency. You saw it in his eyes whenever you touched him, that slight shift of expression, the way his muscles tensed up and his breathing became ever so slightly faster. Maybe that was part of the allure, the fact you could render this monster useless with a few caresses and honeyed words. As long as he didn't realise how weak he actually was for you, you'd be fine.

You never liked sleeping in his penthouse, it was too much. The American memorabilia was almost comical, although you'd never commented on it, knowing it would probably upset him. It was hard to get in the mood when you felt George Washington staring at you, but Homelander's passion proved enough distraction. The sole reason you were in his bed was because he'd been extra needy lately, eventually you got tired of him showing up at your house unannounced, so you simply caved and temporarily moved to the Tower.

As you try to get some rest, you feel a cool breeze hit the back of your neck, followed by the silent pitter patter of his feet against the carpet, like a cat sneaking back home. He always took the window, he thought he was being stealthy when he flied in, but he always managed to wake you. Sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose. The next thing you feel was the warmth of his body against your back, the padded suit kind of uncomfortable against whatever skin your pyjamas left exposed, it was like he was glued to that thing. In fact, you had only seen him fully naked once or twice. Since you don't hear any greeting, you assume he thinks you're asleep, and so you did just that; go back to sleep.

★・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・★ ・・・・・・★

You were so close, too close. He never could get enough of it. Homelander moves to rest his nose against your neck, sniffing your skin. You hadn't showered tonight, just how he liked it. His enhanced senses only made him get a bigger enjoyment out of your natural musk, specially in the summer, when sweat built up under your armpits, under your breasts, the bases of your feet. "(Name)?" He calls out in a soft voice, testing the waters. No answer. After a few moments, he slowly removes his gloves, carefully placing them on the night table. His hand sneaks on top of your waist, a fairly normal gesture, but it slowly travels upward. His fingers travel over your armpit, collecting some sweat. For a moment he just stares at his two fingers, his breathing growing a little heavier just from the knowledge of what he's done. Not out of shame, you're his to do whatever he wants with after all, but the fact this scent he loves so much now coated his own skin. Homelander brings the two digits to his nose, taking a good, long sniff, and breathing out in pleasure. He could already feel the bulge straining against his suit, painfully uncomfortable. "Fuck..." He muttered, now fully pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass, his face buried in your neck like he was trying to inhale every last pheromone you exuded, his hips pathetically humping you from behind. He couldn't care less if you woke up right now, surprisingly self aware of how messed up he was for grinding against you like a dog, but he couldn't stop. Your smell drove him insane. It was your fault for laying in his bed like that, without having showered.

Nearly two minutes of this went on before you stopped pretending to sleep. You had caught onto every little move, it wasn't like you were going to stop him. If he was going to get off on your sweat so be it, you wouldn't be the one to risk one of his temper tantrums against you. What you didn't like was how close he was to your core, inevitably making you wet from the friction, which slowly got quicker as his huffs got louder.

"John."

The mention of his name, his real name, made his blood run cold. Homelander stopped completely, as if stopping his movement now would somehow make you forget what had been going on since he arrived. You turned around to look at him, his face was equally flustered and shameless. You knew him enough that his embarrassment didn't come from a place of morals or a general idea of consent, it was purely because you saw him as he was; needy. Human.

You slowly shift to face him properly, his lips are slightly parted as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes, if you didn't know any better you could've said he was being gentle. Your hand rakes through his blond curls and he nearly melts at the action, his breath briefly hitching when you tug down on them. The action is a command, one he understands immediately, and without the need for words he removes the sheets from your body and lowers your pyjama bottoms along with your underwear down to your ankles, his eagerness practically tears them apart (it wouldn't be the first time).

Homelander lived for moments like this one, the sight of your cunt in front of his face, the smell of your wetness invading his nostrils. For a moment he's left a little starstruck, running his fingers slickly up your hole, letting your fluid act as lubricant as he caresses your clit. The contact earns a little whimper from you, the sound making his stomach flip. He would've teased you for it, but he's not a patient man, and the moment he hears that little sound he's pressing his entire face against your mound, the death grip on your thighs keeping you fully spread. His tongue is fast, his nose hitting your clit whenever he moves, and slowly but surely your breaths become pants, whimpers and moans falling from your lips and only making him more eager. He doesn't bother hiding how he's rutting against the mattress, you believe he's doing it purely out of instinct. Your hips buck forward chasing friction, and a muffled groan from him sends perfect vibration up your core, tugging his hair in response.

You've orgasmed a few times and you're ready to ask him to stop now that you're satisfied when you hear a crack in his voice, followed by a long, drawn out moan and a shaky breath that follows suit. Your mind still a little foggy from the climax, you sit up to look at him. "John?" He simply looks up at you, panting a little, a warm and wet spot between his thighs. It takes you a moment to register the fact he's creamed his pants just from eating you out, and if you weren't this exhausted the thought alone would be enough to rile you up for round two.

"You're welcome." You say with a little grin, chuckling as he practically collapses against your chest, burying himself between your breasts and merely humming in response. Next time he'll just wake you.

[foolisheval]

DRABBLE - men who overstimulate

MDNI! sexual content ahead!

✻ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. men who like to overstimulate— whether that be by accident or intentional (Scaramouche, Xiao, Tartaglia)

✻ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. overstimulation, bratty! afab! Reader, creampie, praising, implied unbalanced power dynamics (Scaramouche), choking (Scaramouche), degradation (Scaramouche) Switch! Xiao and Fatui! Scaramouche (he drives me crazy)

didnt proofread and slightly slacked off with Ajax’s part. Mb gang

BALLADEER

The Balladeer? He's reckless when he's fucking you. He's all raw energy and unbridled passion, like a storm of thunder you can't control but can only surrender to. When the Balladeer's hands are on you, it's electric. Every touch sends shockwaves through you (quite literally) and every kiss feels hungry. As if he's trying to devour you whole.

Scaramouche will fuck you for hours if you ever dare to mouth off so don’t even think he’ll look past disorderly behavior. You’re his cute little subordinate after all. If his hands aren't firmly gripping your waist, then one of them is surely between your legs, his fingers working their magic with the kind of precision that only he seems to possess. Two fingers press into you, curling upward with perfect intent when they find that sensitive, gummy spot inside of you— the one that makes your knees tremble and threatens to steal the strength from your legs. Scaramouche’s other hand is no less active, the broad expanse of his palm pressing teasingly against your lower stomach. It's not just to make you feel more; it's to ensure you're at his mercy, unable to shift or chase after the rhythm he sets. He gives you only what he decides you’re allowed to have. And today, despite his day being ruined by your relentless teasing, he’s feeling unusually generous… perhaps even a bit too generous with the way he’s been overstimulating you.

You've always loved Scaramouche’s hands. You love the way they feel, the way they claim every part of you they touch, and especially the way his palm grinds against your clit when he slips a third finger inside. It's a delicious stretch, one that pulls wanton moans from your lips before you can even think to stifle them. It’s all too much. All too fast and too rough! But, god, you can’t get enough.

When frustration has been building up in him for far too long— he lets it show in the roughness of his words and touch.

That's when you feel his hand slide up to your neck, wrapping around your throat with a firm yet deliberate grip. “Fucking slut, huh? Yeah? You asked for this.”

XIAO

Xiao, who finally has enough of your teasing, your denial of the orgasm he was chasing and your constant mouthing off. He is so frustrated and annoyed that he flips the both of you over just so he can fuck you at the pace he's been aching for this entire night.

It takes you by surprise because the change is so sharp, as if a flip has switched. One second you're lazily riding the man, holding him down and bathing in his moans and whines for more. Denying him as often as your heart desires because you thought he'd let you.

And now you're beneath him, desperately gripping the sheets to try and find purchase as he fucks so hard and so fast that you're about to pass out. You've never been so full of him and still so hungry for more at the same time now that he's hitting spots inside of you that you didn't know existed in the first place.

Xiao holds you by your lifted hips, fucking himself into you like it would make up for the amounts of ruined orgasms you've brought him. And he does it so easily, handling you around like a doll made for his desires. "You’re impossible to handle,” He groans, the drag and pull of his fat cock rendering you speechless.

He knows you deserve the meanest of treatments. It would be just fair to almost drive you over the edge just to ruin every ounce of release once you're actually about to finish. Maybe he should've fucked your throat instead so he wouldn't have to deal with your attitude. Even now, all you do is complain and whine between broken moans and gasps for more. But, god, you feel too good, too warm and way too tight. The face you're making is motivation enough to keep on fucking you even after you've come.

Xiao rubs your clit, gifts you another orgasm, but he never slows his pace. And although Xiao fucks like he owns you, even he is moaning like a bitch when he empties his balls into you.

TARTAGLIA

There's nothing Ajax likes better than seeing your stupid colorful socks dangling over his shoulders as he fucks his fat cock into your gushing pussy. Your nails dig into his biceps, whining for him, telling him that it's too much but not pushing him away as he pounds you harder.

"A-Ajax!" Your eyes roll back whenever he hits that special spot inside of you, but Ajax isn't stopping until he's sure your pussy is filled to the brim. You're so close to drooling all over your chin, moaning his name over and over just to spur him on a little.

Ajax isn't exactly known to be a patient man, but he'll make an exception for you. Fucking you senseless is an art he's more than willing to practice over and over again until he's mastered it. It doesn't matter whether his balls are coated in your slick, or you babble incoherent sentences about how big he is, about how full you feel.

He knows he did a great job fucking you when he finally empties his balls into you and you gush around him like you've never before.

"you look-- s-shit! look so pretty like this. Pussy feels so fuckin' good, so fuckin' wet. Am I making you feel good, baby? C’mon, talk to me."

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[luviestarz]

lee haechan fic recs!

❤︎ I LIKE YOU (I DO) (L.DH) - @domjaehyun (stoner!haechan just wants you to know how much he likes you.)

❤︎ paperclip - @smileysuh (yandere, ex bf! hyuck)

❤︎ My Boy. - @prodbymaui (A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.)

❤︎ kiss it better - @yeow6n (haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it)

❤︎ sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH - @haechwrites (prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.)

❤︎ bus stop - @ooshu (haechan rides the bus. you hop on the same ride. minutes later, you two were a couple. he never questioned why.)

❤︎ strawberries & cigarettes - @hyudior (the art school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee donghyuck decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.)

❤︎ >> take my breath - @hyuckwrlds

❤︎ moles ♡‧₊˚ lee haechan - @sleeping-sirens (you read something on the internet that made you feel jealous of a person you didn’t even know but haechan knows just how to reassure you.)

❤︎ haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby - @hyuckmov (he used to be able to hide it. he used to be fine with glancing at you, habitually flicking his eyes to your chest when you would walk into the room or snuggle up to him. but now he’s totally fucked, because he thinks he’s developed some sort of addiction.)

❤︎ eyes tell - @tonicandjins (donghyuck has been trying to confess his feelings to you. third time's the charm, he thinks.)

❤︎ going below zero | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (Considering how much Haechan makes it his personal mission to antagonize you at work, it seems like a rather cruel twist of fate that the both of you have been side by side since middle school, the only consolation being that his office is a different floor from yours. But if there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with him might just be the opposite, and it’ll take a family ski holiday to find out.)

❤︎ take my breath. - @sixzeroes (lee donghyuck did not believe in ‘love at first sight.’ key word: did. he does now, but only because you happened to fall into his arms on the icy road in the narrow streets. you’re going to render him breathless from the countless times your smile takes his breath away.)

❤︎ ice cream thief [ l.dh ] - @tddyhyck (someone has been eating haechan's favorite ice cream so he decides to put a hidden camera in the kitchen and living room thinking it's a shared space it shouldn't invade anyone's privacy... right?)

❤︎ tease | lee haechan - @hyuckiefluff (Playing spin the bottle definitely wasn't what you had envisioned for your first college party. And the last person you expected to see was Lee Haechan. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and this time it came in the form of the bottle landing on some drunk dude who dared you to kiss Haechan.)

❤︎ 𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁸⁺ - @goldyeokki (you and lee donghyuck both get along like oil and water. if it were up to you, you would be going about your days without even breathing in his direction. unfortunately you're in the same friend group and you have to tolerate each other. as handsome or attractive as people claim him to be, you hate his guts. there's so many reasons why you hate him, so why do you get butterflies in your stomach when he's near?)

❤︎ high (with my lover) [m] – l.dh - @yeonghosins (y/n smokes up with donghyuck for the first time)

❤︎ what the puck! - @choerrypuffs (you hit the university’s star hockey player with your car. shenanigans (and maybe even a little romance) ensue.)

❤︎ double take | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (friends to lovers, highschool au, slowburn, fluff, angst)

❤︎ Your Red Lipstick || L.DH - @ihaechans (Kisses, kisses, kisses. That’s all your boyfriend wants. When you refuse to give him the one thing he craves, he won’t leave you alone, begging and begging until you give in.)

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them. 

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you. 

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them. 

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

----------------------------

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice. 

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal. 

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them. 

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing. 

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long. 

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater. 

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more. 

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way. 

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous? 

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

----------------------------

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa. 

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

----------------------------

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

-------------------------------

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[evilvillain123456789]

i woke up one afternoon to discover my body was transformed into that of a pig. though it was shocking, my family loved me despite this, and fed me lots of yummy slop. I lost pieces of my humanity with every day that passed, and I began to lose my sense of shame as well. This resulted in me often shitting where I stood, and blatantly going into erstrus when the time came. My parents, still believing me to be a real person, and not swine, were disgusted, and ashamed, and scolded me any time I "misbehaved". Until the day came along, one day, when my mother looked deep into my eyes and could not find a single trace of the human soul within them. I saw her turn around to the other room and heard her sobbing, though it elicited no response from me. Heartbroken, she had a conference with the rest of my family, and they decided to spare themselves the pain of having to look at me, and sell me to the Farmer as a meat pig. I went with him peacefully, aware of my fate, but not caring. The farmer did not know that I used to be human, so after I became fit to slaughter, maybe even substantially larger beyond that, he did so without ceremony. I was butchered as part of a special order, with my entire carcass shaved and washed, organs washed and placed back within, and sold to one man, who paid a hefty price. He brought me to his house after a long time spent in a, somewhat dingy ice chest in the back of his pickup truck, dragged inside, and cooked me in a large oven. My meat looked tender on the inside, yet was perfectly browned and crisp on the outside. Potatos and other starchy vegetables were cooked in the same pan, with a good amount of butter, as my body, the fat that was rendered and dripped off of me treating them well. When I was done cooking, instead of dressing me up, and putting me on a table, he put me and the cooking dish on the floor. This made me curious. I figured that he would be eating me, or a group of people, but thinking back on it, I heard no other humans than him this whole time, nor any footsteps. He whistled and called, and after some time an extremely large pig slowly slid itself along the floor into view. When it reached me, it didnt hesitate to begin eating as fast as it could. The man looked on. After about 15 minutes, the other pig had eaten all of me, even my bones, the vegetables, and drank all the remaining fluids from the pan, and my conscious had reawoken inside of its mind, all my memories intact, seeing things from its perspective, though I couldnt control its actions, and it's inner thoughts weren't aware of my presence. I felt my share of the pleasure that comes from eating ones own kind, and the pig sluggishly both in speed and manner made its way back to its pen, and fell asleep. I did too

[svt-luna]

hi lovely, i hope you are having/had a good day! i woke up this morning to svt winning another daesang (as they should) and the speech had me sobbing 😭

so i was wondering if you’re comfortable, could you possibly write something from lunas pov during the speech and her saying her own heartwarming speech? also maybe writing about their celebration dinner(?) afterwards where they facetimed jun and hannie? (and maybe squeeze in a little jeongna moment if you can 👀) this is my first time making a request so i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense, i’m a little nervous.

if you don’t want to write it or don’t feel comfortable writing it, that is totally fine. i love your writing btw 🫶🏾

𝜗℘ BIRDS OF A FEATHER

❛ 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦. '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: Amid the rush of the MAMA Awards and the whirlwind of victories, Luna and Jeonghan share quiet moments of love and reflection, as their hearts connect through wins, speeches, and emotions that speak louder than words.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, crying, long speeches, established relationship, slight flirting, tooth-rotting fluff

hi, my love!! please don’t be nervous and feel free to request more because this is a great request, i just had to write it real quick. and do not worry, you aren’t the only one who sobbed. i ugly sobbed watching the show, they deserve everything in the world. my heart is full for the guys 🥹🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna can still remember their first-ever award show.

The sound of applause echoed around the massive venue, filling every corner of the arena with an energy that Luna could still feel, even years later.

She remembered that night as vividly as if it had just happened, though it was now a memory softened by time and sweetened by the hard-earned successes that followed.

Their first awards show as SEVENTEEN wasn’t glamorous, nor was it triumphant in the conventional sense.

They hadn’t won any awards that night; they were merely performers in a lineup of seasoned artists who had long since carved their names into the fabric of the industry.

Yet, for Luna, that night held a special kind of magic— one that was tinged with equal parts intimidation and exhilaration.

The air backstage had been charged with nervous energy. SEVENTEEN had been a fresh, wide-eyed group at the time, their faces still bright with the unfiltered enthusiasm of newcomers.

Luna remembered her own nerves most distinctly. She had fidgeted with the hem of her stage outfit, her heart pounding as the reality of performing at such a grand event settled over her.

It wasn’t just the thought of performing in front of their fans— Carats, as they would later come to call them— but also the knowledge that the audience was filled with some of the most respected artists in the industry.

Icons.

Legends.

People whose music Luna had grown up listening to, whose names were spoken with reverence in both casual conversation and industry circles.

It was overwhelming.

The stage had felt enormous beneath her feet, its scale almost swallowing them whole. Bright lights illuminated every corner of the arena, rendering the faces of the audience a blur beyond the glare.

Yet, when the music started, something shifted.

The nerves, the apprehension, the sheer weight of the moment— all of it melted away in the rhythm of their choreography and the familiar beats of their song.

They weren’t only a group of rookies anymore; they were SEVENTEEN, standing shoulder to shoulder and filling that stage with their energy and passion.

The applause that followed wasn’t deafening, nor was it as sustained as some of the others they would hear that night. But it was enough to leave a mark, enough to affirm that they had been seen, even if only as one of many acts in a star-studded lineup.

Luna remembered sitting among the audience after their performance, her breath still uneven from exertion but her eyes wide with wonder. They watched as other artists— seasoned veterans with decades of experience, and rising stars who were rapidly ascending the industry ladder— took the stage.

Every performance seemed like a masterclass in artistry, leaving Luna in awe. There was so much to learn from the way they commanded the stage, from the way they carried themselves with a confidence born of years in the spotlight.

When the awards segment began, the awe only deepened.

Category after category, artists stepped up to the stage to receive their trophies, their names etched in gold on placards that would later be photographed, shared, and celebrated.

Luna had clapped until her palms stung, genuinely thrilled for the winners even though a small, quiet voice in her heart whispered that one day, she wanted to be where they were.

The grand prizes were the highlight of the night.

They weren’t just awards; they were accolades that symbolized unparalleled achievement, the kind of recognition that marked an artist as the best of the best.

Luna remembered how the winners’ names were called, the way the room seemed to hold its collective breath before erupting in applause. She watched as these titans of the industry ascended the stage, some with practiced poise, others with teary humility.

Their speeches, though varied in tone and content, all carried the weight of their journey— the sacrifices, the triumphs, the sheer determination it took to reach that pinnacle.

It was both inspiring and humbling.

As the night progressed, Luna felt the spark of something igniting within her. She could sense it in the others too.

Seungcheol’s clenched fists as he silently vowed to lead them to greater heights, Woozi’s laser-focused gaze that already seemed to be dissecting how they could improve, and the way Hoshi had leaned over to murmur something to Joshua, his expression a mix of determination and quiet pride.

They all felt it— that drive to grow, to push themselves harder, to ensure that one day, they would no longer be the rookies sitting in awe of others.

They wanted to be the artists who stood on that stage, holding those trophies, delivering those speeches. To be artists whose music has grown to have an impact on their fans.

Luna carried that moment with her for years.

It became a cornerstone of her resolve, a memory she often revisited on the nights when exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She would remind herself of the awe she had felt, the respect she had for those artists, and the fire it had lit within her.

It wasn’t about proving anyone wrong or chasing fame for its own sake. It was about reaching the level of artistry that deserved to stand among the greats.

And that night, surrounded by her members, Luna had felt the first stirrings of a shared dream. They hadn’t spoken it aloud then— it didn’t need to be said. It was in the way they clapped for the winners, in the way they exchanged glances full of unspoken promises.

One day, they would be the ones to take the stage not just as performers, but as artists recognized for their craft. They would work until their names weren’t just part of the lineup but were written in gold on those placards.

And so they had.

The memory of that night in 2023 glimmered in Luna’s mind, warm and vivid, like a beacon guiding her back to one of the most profound moments of her life.

Almost nine years into their career, SEVENTEEN had already achieved so much.

They had performed on some of the most prestigious stages, sold out arenas worldwide, broken records they hadn’t dared to dream about and won countless awards that decorated their journey.

Each trophy, no matter the category or scale, was a testament to their relentless hard work and the unshakable bond they shared— not just with one another but with the fans who had stood by them every step of the way.

Yet nothing— absolutely nothing— compared to the moment they won their first Grand Prize.

The 2023 MAMA Awards were already a night to remember.

It was one of those moments where Luna found herself marveling at how far they had come. She had stepped onto that stage alongside her thirteen members, the lights glinting off their meticulously designed outfits, the roar of Carats shaking the very foundation of the venue.

The familiarity of it all— the stage, the adrenaline, the chants of their name— felt comforting, like a second skin they had worn for nearly a decade.

But when the announcement came, when their album ‘FML’ was called for Album of the Year, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Luna had felt the breath leave her lungs, her vision blurring as the words echoed through the arena. It was as though time had slowed, each second stretching into eternity as the realization sank in.

They had done it.

After years of climbing, years of pushing themselves past limits they didn’t even know existed, they had reached a summit they had only ever dreamed about.

The fourteen of them had risen to their feet as one, an unspoken unity carrying them toward the stage.

The journey to the microphone felt surreal, like walking through a dream they were afraid to wake from.

Luna remembered catching glimpses of the members’ faces through her tears— Woozi’s eyes already glistening, Seungkwan biting his trembling lip, Mingyu’s hand clenched tightly over his chest as though physically restraining the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

The applause around them was deafening, but Luna could only hear the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. By the time they reached the stage, she was trembling.

Standing there, under the brilliant lights, holding the golden trophy that bore their name, Luna felt a strange, overwhelming mix of emotions.

Pride, of course, swelled in her chest, nearly bursting through her ribcage. But beneath it was something deeper— something raw and healing.

It was as though the girl she had been nearly a decade ago, the one who had sat in awe watching other artists take home awards like this, was standing beside her now.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Luna felt that teenage girl’s insecurities and doubts dissolve into the air, replaced by the quiet, undeniable truth that they had earned this.

All fourteen of them crowded around the microphone, a chaotic, beautiful tangle of limbs and emotions.

The trophy, heavier than she had imagined, was passed from hand to hand, each member clutching it as though it might disappear if they let go.

Luna remembered how it felt in her grasp— solid, warm, alive with the energy of their shared victory.

The speeches began, one by one.

Some members could barely get their words out through their tears, their voices cracking as they expressed gratitude that could never fully be captured in words. Others spoke with surprising composure, their emotions shining through in the weight of their pauses and the tremor in their voices.

Every single one of them spoke from the heart, their words a love letter to Carats, to the people who had supported them from the very beginning.

Luna herself had cried— not the graceful, restrained tears one might expect at such a moment, but the kind of sobs that left her shaking.

She cried for the rookie she had been, for the years of hard work and sacrifice, for the moments of doubt when this dream had felt impossibly out of reach. She cried for the fans who had believed in them even when they hadn’t fully believed in themselves, for the members who had become her family, and for the journey that had led them to this stage.

It was as though the moment had cracked something open inside all of them, releasing years of pent-up longing, frustration, and hope. For that brief time, standing together with tears streaming down their faces, they weren’t the polished, professional idols the world saw them as.

They were kids again— wide-eyed, hopeful, and impossibly grateful.

It felt like healing.

The roar of the crowd, the flashing cameras, the dazzling lights— it all blurred together into a kaleidoscope of sensations, but Luna would never forget the way she felt at that moment. It was as though they had stepped back in time, becoming the teenagers who had once dreamed of this very moment.

Winning their first Grand Prize wasn’t just an achievement; it was a culmination of every step they had taken to get there, every challenge they had faced, and every dream they had dared to dream.

And as they stood there, holding their trophy with trembling hands and tearful smiles, it felt like they were rookies all over again.

The present moment felt surreal as well, but Luna couldn’t stop the memories from flooding her mind as she walked alongside her members toward the stage.

The 2024 MAMA Awards were taking place in Japan, and yet the experience felt oddly familiar. She had been here before, in some capacity— another city, another year, but always surrounded by the same faces.

It was the same sequence of events: the glittering red carpet, the dizzying flashes of cameras, the hum of anticipation in the air. They had arrived in sleek, custom-tailored outfits, every detail meticulously planned to exude elegance and confidence. As always, the fans greeted them with deafening cheers, their voices rising above the chaos, a reminder of the love and support that had carried them through the years.

The award show itself had unfolded like so many others before it. They had taken their seats among a sea of familiar faces— some peers, some icons they still admired from afar despite sharing the same industry. They had watched the performances with genuine awe, clapping enthusiastically for their fellow artists, basking in the shared celebration of music and artistry.

These moments were always a highlight for Luna, a chance to witness the diversity and passion of their craft.

Throughout the evening, SEVENTEEN had already won two awards— Fan’s Choice, Super Stage, and Album of the Year which they had won the year prior as well. Each win had been met with cheers and applause, their names called out with the same warmth and pride as every time before.

Luna had stood with the members as they accepted the awards, their speeches heartfelt and grateful, their joy spilling over as they thanked their fans and the people who had helped them get here. The weight of each trophy was a reminder of their hard work, a tangible acknowledgment of the bond they had built with their fans.

But it wasn’t just about those awards.

After their performance— an electrifying stage that showcased a medley of their newer songs— the night took a turn no one had dared to predict.

They had barely returned to their seats, adrenaline still coursing through their veins, when the announcement came. The words seemed to echo in the cavernous arena, sinking into the stunned silence that followed.

SEVENTEEN had won the Grand Prize for Artist of the Year.

The gravity of those words hit Luna like a tidal wave, her heart hammering in her chest as they were ushered to their feet.

Winning Album of the Year two years in a row felt monumental, like breaking through a glass ceiling they had been reaching toward for years.

But this year— this was something else entirely.

Artist of the Year.

The pinnacle of recognition.

A title that declared them not just successful but iconic, a force to be reckoned with.

Luna’s legs felt shaky as she followed the others, the twelve of them making their way toward the stage. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each step heavy with the weight of everything that moment symbolized.

It wasn’t just another trophy; it was a testament to nearly a decade of unwavering determination, sleepless nights, and sacrifices none of them spoke about openly.

Yet, as monumental as the achievement was, Luna couldn’t stop the pang of sadness that accompanied it.

They were twelve tonight.

Jeonghan was doing his alternative military service, his absence a constant ache in their dynamic, and Jun was in China, pursuing his acting career with the same passion he had always brought to the group.

The two of them were irreplaceable, and though SEVENTEEN had adapted, though they had pressed on with their tour and their schedules, it never stopped feeling incomplete.

Luna’s throat tightened as the thought crossed her mind.

Performing with twelve of them felt empty in a way she couldn’t describe. It was like a song missing its harmonies, a painting with two crucial strokes left undone. Standing here now, walking toward a microphone that should have had fourteen voices ready to speak, that emptiness felt magnified.

The joy of the moment was undeniable, but so was the absence of Jeonghan’s playful smirk and Jun’s calming presence.

They had made it to the stage by now, the bright lights shining down on them, the cheers of the audience deafening in their ears.

Luna blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She knew she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. She could see it in the way the members carried themselves, their smiles tinged with bittersweet undertones, their gazes flickering to the empty spaces beside them.

Even as the trophy was placed in their hands, even as the reality of the win began to sink in, Luna couldn’t shake the weight of it all.

This was a first for them— Artist of the Year.

It was the kind of award that solidified a legacy, that spoke to the impact they had made not just in one year but across their entire career. And yet, it felt wrong to be accepting it without all of them present.

The tears Luna had been holding back pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not yet.

Instead, she focused on the moment, on the twelve of them standing shoulder to shoulder, a united front despite the gaps between them. They had worked too hard for this, sacrificed too much, to let the moment pass them by.

Still, as they approached the microphone and prepared to speak, Luna couldn’t help but wish that Jeonghan and Jun were there. The weight of the trophy in her hands felt both comforting and heavy, a symbol of everything they had achieved and everything they still wanted to be.

The stage was awash in golden light, illuminating the twelve figures standing before an audience whose cheers swelled like a tide.

Luna stood slightly behind the others, her fingers playing with her rings that were glittering as she tried to focus on the moment. She caught Seungcheol stepping forward, his calm and steady presence a source of comfort even now. He raised the microphone, his voice strong despite the visible emotion etched into his features.

“Say the name…” he began, the words resonating through the arena.

“SEVENTEEN!” the members chorused, their hands moving in perfect synchronization to their signature gesture before bowing deeply in unison. “Hello, we are SEVENTEEN.”

The arena erupted in cheers, the kind that echoed endlessly, an overwhelming wave of love and celebration that swept over them all. Luna straightened, her chest swelling with pride as her gaze flickered across the fans who were crying, laughing, and cheering with unrestrained joy.

Hoshi stepped forward next, his energy as bright and infectious as ever. “THANK YOU TO CARATS WHO MADE US ARTIST OF THE YEAR!!” he shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying an uncontainable enthusiasm that filled every corner of the venue.

Luna couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, her heart warming at the sight of Hoshi’s genuine excitement. He continued, his tone softening but still infused with his usual passion. “We really didn’t know we’d be able to receive two big awards at MAMA like this,” he said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “But I think our first big award we received after eight years last year gave us the meaning that if we don’t give up, anything is possible. So with the two big awards this time, it gave us the meaning that we will continue forward like SEVENTEEN! We’ll really work hard. Thank you!!”

As he stepped back, the audience roared in approval, their cheers blending with the claps and nods of the other members. Luna turned slightly to glance at the members beside her. Some were wiping away the beginnings of tears, their expressions a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

Dino took the mic next, his youthful presence commanding attention even amidst the grandeur of the moment. Luna watched him closely, noticing the determination shining in his eyes. “Actually, when we received our Daesang last year, I was the only one who couldn’t share my thoughts,” Dino began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I got to do a bit today.” He paused, a small, almost sheepish smile crossing his face before he continued.

“Ever since our debut, my dream was to be an artist that would remain in history,” he said, his words quiet but powerful, as though he were confiding in every person in the room. “And receiving the Artist of the Year award felt like something new too. In the future, we won’t lose the feelings that made us worthy to receive this award and the feelings we had from the start as we go forward. We will go forward together with Carats. Thank you, and I love you!”

The cheers that erupted then were deafening, the sound wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Dino stepped back into the line of members, his expression softened but proud as the audience responded with unbridled enthusiasm.

It was Dokyeom’s turn next. Luna’s gaze shifted toward him as he stepped up, a bright smile tugging at his lips despite the sheen of emotion glistening in his eyes. His voice was warm and affectionate, as though speaking directly to their fans.

“Carats!! I love you!” he began, his tone as vibrant as his personality. “We got to receive two Daesangs at MAMA like this, and I’m so thankful for that. The reason we’re able to receive such a big award like this is thanks to our Carats. If it weren’t for the love from our Carats, we wouldn’t be able to receive an award this big, so I think today there’s no way for us to be anything but happy.” He paused for a moment, his voice thickening slightly as his words slowed. “You made such a happy day for us today…”

As Dokyeom’s voice trailed off, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Seungcheol, who stood slightly apart from the others. The leader’s back was to the audience, his head tilted downward as his shoulders shook faintly.

The atmosphere shifted, a hush falling over the members as they realized what was happening.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat as Seungcheol turned partially, his head still lowered. Before anyone could react, he leaned toward her, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Luna froze for a moment, her heart clenching as she felt the subtle tremor of his body against hers. Her hand moved instinctively, intertwining their fingers in a comforting grip as she whispered, “Please don’t cry, Cheollie.” Her own tears threatened to fall, her voice trembling as she tried to keep them at bay.

Luna hated seeing people cry, especially her members. She had always had a soft heart, one that couldn’t bear the sight of the people she loved in pain, and Seungcheol was no exception.

“Are you crying?” Dokyeom’s voice broke through the moment, playful yet tinged with concern as he addressed the mic once more. “Our leader hyung is crying… don’t cry! Don’t cry!” he chanted, his enthusiasm infectious as the fans immediately joined in, their voices echoing throughout the arena.

“Yes, Coups hyung, say a word,” Dokyeom said, his tone encouraging as he gestured toward their leade

Seungcheol inhaled deeply as he moved toward the microphone, his fingers tightly intertwined with Luna’s. Her hands enveloped his trembling one, holding it securely as though anchoring him in the moment. Not once did she loosen her grip, and he drew strength from her silent support. His free hand reached up briefly to wipe his tear-streaked face, but the tears continued to fall unabated.

He couldn’t stop them, and he didn’t try to anymore.

Standing before the mic, Seungcheol’s voice broke as he began to speak, his raw emotions lacing every word. “The thing I want to say the most,” he said, his tone heavy with longing, “is I miss Jeonghan and Jun so much…” His voice faltered momentarily, the weight of his feelings almost overwhelming him, but he pushed through. “It would’ve been better if all fourteen of us received it together, but I’ll keep these feelings well and relay it to them. Thank you.”

The arena erupted into a mixture of cheers and sobs, Carats’ voices merging into one wave of love and encouragement. Seungcheol nodded once, as though solidifying his promise, and returned to his place in line, still clutching Luna’s hand as if letting go would cause him to crumble.

Luna stood quietly, her expression strained as the mention of Jeonghan and Jun hit her like a wave.

Bittersweet emotions surged through her, tugging at her already fragile composure. She lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain to shield her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to let her tears fall because she knew herself too well.

Once Luna started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and tonight she didn’t want that.

But the ache in her chest only grew. The man who could always comfort her, who knew exactly how to make her laugh even on her darkest days, wasn’t here.

Jeonghan wasn’t here.

Seungcheol glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders trembled as she fought to maintain control. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Luna turned into him instinctively, burying her face in his chest. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tightly as if seeking solace in his steady heartbeat.

The crowd roared again, their love a balm for the open wounds in their hearts, but the bittersweet air lingered around the group like a fog.

Seungkwan, ever the light in their darkest moments, stepped forward to the microphone. His voice carried a bright energy as he called out, “Woozi hyung! Say a word too.”

He turned to where Woozi stood slightly apart, clutching the trophy tightly in his hands. “Woozi hyung was so nervous just now he was talking to himself. In our team, he’s like a mother who feels full just by watching us eat,” Seungkwan continued, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “He’s really a hyung who always gives generously without holding back, so I want to hear hyung’s thoughts.”

The members turned toward Woozi, whose small frame seemed even smaller as he stood there, crying silently. His shoulders shook as Seungkwan approached and handed him the trophy, offering a reassuring pat on his arm.

Woozi wiped at his tears, but they fell faster than he could brush them away. He exhaled a shaky breath before stepping up to the microphone, his voice breaking as he began to speak.

“Ah, really! Please! Why?!” Woozi cried out, his words breaking into a soft whine. He turned to the other members briefly, his expression equal parts frustration and helplessness as the tears kept coming. “Why is it always like this when receiving awards?”

The members chuckled through their tears, their affection for him evident in their soft smiles and knowing nods.

“I don’t know why our emotions are bursting…” Woozi continued, his voice trembling. “What’s so sorrowful, really…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the trophy in his hands before he tightened his grip on it.

His voice steadied slightly as he continued, though the raw emotion remained palpable. “SEVENTEEN got a big award for two years in a row at MAMA, and we got two this year. This was something that really could’ve never been for us. Imagining is free, but that was something we couldn’t even imagine.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, the other members nodding solemnly as they listened. Tears glistened in their eyes, some freely streaming down their faces as they watched Woozi pour his heart out.

“I’m sorry,” Woozi said, his voice breaking again. “I’m not really someone who speaks this much.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh before adding, “Yesterday was actually my birthday, but because it’s burdensome, I don’t like receiving birthday wishes.”

The crowd erupted into affectionate cheers and cries of but Woozi shook his head with a watery laugh, continuing without pause.

“But receiving an award this good as a birthday gift… there’s no way I can’t like it.” His lips trembled as he smiled faintly, his tears falling faster now. “While making music for the past ten years, I can’t take pride in how I have never once been negligent or careless in studying it. I will continue repaying you until the end of my life.”

Woozi paused, glancing down briefly as though gathering the strength to finish. “It’s a very obvious thing, but I think an idol’s best way of repaying people is with good albums. I will never change, and the fourteen of us will continue steadfastly. Thank you, I love you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and cries once more, their voices blending into a powerful symphony of love and support. Woozi clutched the trophy tighter, his tears flowing freely now.

Seungkwan, standing beside him, reached out and patted his back gently, offering silent comfort. The rest of the members watched with tear-filled eyes, their expressions a mix of pride and understanding as they absorbed Woozi’s heartfelt words.

Seungcheol’s arm stayed secure around Luna as he gently stroked her hair, his touch tender, grounding her. His other hand lightly patted her arm, still wrapped firmly around his, offering her the silent reassurance she needed. Luna’s head remained pressed against his chest as she absorbed the warmth of his presence.

Before Luna could lose herself completely in her thoughts, they both heard Seungkwan’s voice over the mic.

“Noona… do you want to say anything?”

The question drew their attention, and Luna felt Seungcheol gently gesture her forward with his free hand, urging her to speak. She hesitated, the emotions swirling within her still too raw, but the encouraging look on Seungcheol’s face gave her the push she needed.

“Aigo… she’s also crying,” Seungkwan joked, his lighthearted comment drawing soft laughter from the audience and the members. The playful tease made Luna chuckle through her tears, and she reluctantly detached herself from Seungcheol’s comforting hold, stepping forward with a small smile on her face.

As she reached the mic, Woozi handed her the trophy, his face red and tear-streaked but glowing with pride. Luna accepted it with both hands, her expression softening as she glanced at the members behind her. Her voice, however, carried a playful lilt as she turned to the audience and joked, “I’m not crying. Do I look like I’m crying?”

The crowd erupted into laughter at the irony, given her glistening red eyes and flushed cheeks. Her attempt at humor broke the emotional tension for a brief moment, drawing laughter from the members as well. She smiled wider, shaking her head before adding, “I’m not gonna cry today because I want to be cool.”

The lighthearted remark earned more laughter, and Luna couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Her shoulders relaxed as the weight of the moment started to settle into something manageable.

But as she continued, her tone turned earnest, “I just want to make you guys laugh. Carats, I can see some of you crying. Please don’t cry. Today is a happy day. A very happy day.”

She paused, stepping back slightly from the mic, her gaze sweeping over the faces of her members. Her smile softened into something radiant and beautiful, a reflection of the love she held for the people standing beside her. Her eyes met each of theirs, and the warmth in their expressions mirrored her own.

“I’m proud of us,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers, the sound wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

Luna laughed lightly, her eyes welling up again despite her earlier resolve. “I’m proud of us. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of Cheollie, Joshie, Soonie, Woo, Jihoonie, Hao, Gyu-gyu, Kyeomie, Kwanie, Nonie, Channie, and of course Hannie and Junnie.”

Her voice cracked as she mentioned Jeonghan and Jun, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She tried to brush it away quickly, chuckling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m not crying, I promise,” she joked again, though her voice wavered as she choked back a sob. Her attempt to lighten the mood made the fans and members laugh, but their own eyes glistened as they watched her fight through her emotions.

She took a deep breath and continued, “As we stand here right now, accepting this award, only one thing comes to mind. It’s that right now we aren’t the SEVENTEEN who are in their late twenties and are in their ninth year. It’s as if right now we are the timid teens who could only dream about receiving an award like this.”

Tears began to fall freely now, each word bringing a fresh wave of emotion that she couldn’t hold back. She turned to the members, her face streaked with tears, and asked in a small voice, “What do I do?”

Her question was met with immediate action. Mingyu and Seungcheol moved to either side of her, their hands patting her back gently as they offered quiet comfort. The rest of the members quickly surrounded her from behind, forming a protective circle as if shielding her from the overwhelming emotions of the moment.

“I still remember when we were at our first award show where we didn’t win anything, we were just happy to be invited, and now we are here, almost ten years later, receiving two Daesangs in one night… I’m proud of us, really.”

Luna’s voice broke again as she spoke, and she paused to collect herself, her gaze drifting over the crowd before settling on the members around her.

“I am also proud of our Carats who have been keeping us steady through the hard times this year. This year hasn’t been easy. A lot of bad and a lot of good. My only wish is that next year will be a little bit kinder to everyone. We promise to work harder for you guys and for Hannie and Jun, who I know are watching right now… I love and miss you two so much. Thank you.”

She bowed deeply, her form trembling as she fought to regain control of her emotions. As she moved away from the mic, she quickly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but before she could fully compose herself, Dokyeom stepped forward.

“Come here,” he said softly, his warm smile a balm to her raw emotions as he gently wiped her tears with his hands. Wonwoo followed, patting her head affectionately while Seungcheol and Mingyu remained on either side of her, their presence steady and grounding.

Wonwoo adjusted the mic slightly, leaning in as his calm voice rang out, “Thank you!” His words were simple but carried the weight of his sincerity, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Seungkwan then added, “Thank you so much, really. In the future, we’ll work hard!” He offered a small smile, his genuine demeanor only emphasizing the heartfelt nature of his words.

Then, Seungcheol, ever the leader, took the mic with steady hands, his voice firm yet warm. “It’s been SEVENTEEN. Say the name…”

The members immediately joined in, their voices strong as they performed their signature hand gesture and shouted in unison, “SEVENTEEN!” They bowed deeply toward the crowd before finishing together, “Thank you!”

“Thank you so much to our staff,” Seungkwan spoke again, a gesture echoed by the rest of the group.

“Carats, I love you,” Mingyu added, his voice filled with emotion as he followed. His face broke into a radiant smile as he glanced toward the fans, his love for them evident in every word.

The members closed in tighter, forming a huddle as Luna slipped her arms around Seungcheol and Mingyu’s waists. Their collective warmth was a tangible reminder of their bond, a silent promise that they would continue to lean on one another no matter what came next.

As the members remained in their tight huddle, the crowd cheered louder, their love and pride for SEVENTEEN filling the venue. The crowd’s cheers reached a deafening roar, a wave of love and pride that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. They stood together, united as one, soaking in the moment before ending the night.

The cheers and music of the 2024 MAMA Awards faded into the background as the show came to a close. SEVENTEEN stood united onstage for one last bow before they retreated, their hearts brimming with pride and emotions still raw from the night’s triumphs.

As they stepped backstage, a whirlwind of activity greeted them. Their staff and team members erupted in cheers and applause, filling the air with congratulatory shouts and infectious energy. The members were immediately engulfed in hugs, pats on the back, and words of praise.

Their production team followed close behind, cameras rolling to capture every moment for future content, whether for YouTube or official documentary-style footage. Photographers clicked away, immortalizing the members holding their trophies, their eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion settling in.

In the dressing room, the energy remained electric.

The members posed for group photos, laughing and playfully adjusting each other’s outfits. Luna, with a grin that stretched ear to ear, stood at the center of one photo, cradling a trophy. She switched between group shots and solo moments with the trophies, her genuine joy lighting up each frame.

Hoshi and Seungkwan joked about how she was still the prettiest despite sobbing her makeup off, prompting her to laugh before finally setting the trophy down.

Once the formalities wound down, Luna’s attention immediately darted to her phone. She picked it up and stepped to the side, her fingers swiftly tapping the screen to initiate a video call.

It barely rang once before the familiar face of Jeonghan appeared on the screen, his smile lazy yet warm, as if he had been waiting for her call all night.

The sight of him caused Luna’s heart to skip a beat. The chaotic energy surrounding her melted away, and she immediately felt lighter, her exhaustion replaced by a soothing sense of calm.

“How’s my Artist of the Year?” Jeonghan asked, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as he smirked knowingly.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she plopped into a makeup chair. “I feel amazing, my Artist of the Year,” she quipped back, the warmth in her tone matching his.

Jeonghan’s smirk softened into a smile, and his quiet chuckle carried through the phone. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Luna propped her phone against the mirror, angling it carefully so she could talk to him while undoing her hair. She began removing the pins, placing them methodically on the counter. “The best pair,” she agreed, shooting him a small smile as her fingers worked through her hair.

Jeonghan’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. His gaze softened as he noticed her smudged eye makeup from crying earlier. “You cried so hard,” he pointed out gently, his voice dropping to a soft coo as he watched her before he teased. “You’re so emotional lately, angel.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I tried my hardest not to cry! But you know how it is… The moment I started it just hit me and I couldn’t stop.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his tone patient. “I know, baby. But you’re so cute when you cry. I wish I could’ve been there to wipe your tears.”

Luna paused briefly to give him a mock glare, pulling out the last pin from her hair. “That’s not helping,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Jeonghan chuckled again, his voice warm. “Sorry, sorry. You did so well, though. I was watching the whole time. You were incredible up there. I’m so proud of you.”

His words made Luna’s cheeks warm, and she busied herself by slipping the rings off her fingers, setting them beside the pins. The only ones left were their team pinky ring and her engagement ring, which she twisted absently as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, Han,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I did my best.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes following her every movement as she began removing her makeup. “That speech, though. It was perfect. You always know how to say the right things.”

She paused, smiling slightly as she wiped away the remnants of her eyeliner. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jeonghan replied, his voice unwavering. “You’re amazing, my moon. Every single day, you amaze me.”

“And you say I have a way with words.” Luna shook her head lightly, her laugh soft as she focused on cleaning her face.

Behind her, Hoshi suddenly popped into view, waving enthusiastically at Jeonghan.

“Hyung! Did you see me tonight?” Hoshi asked loudly, grinning.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You mean your hip thrust during ‘Ash’? Of course, I did.”

Hoshi preened under the compliment before Luna shooed him off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, go change already!”

“Fine, fine! Hi and bye, hyung!” Hoshi waved dramatically before disappearing again.

The interruptions didn’t stop there. Dokyeom appeared next, leaning over Luna’s shoulder to wave at Jeonghan. “Hyung, we need to hang out! Just the two of us.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “You miss me that much?”

“Of course,” Dokyeom grinned before Luna nudged him away.

“Go change, Kyeomie!” she scolded playfully with a pout, laughing as Dokyeom wandered off.

As the room quieted down again, Luna sighed, leaning closer to the mirror to check her reflection. Jeonghan’s voice pulled her attention back. “You’re glowing,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

She glanced at him through the screen, her smile returning. “You always know what to say,” she murmured.

Jeonghan’s smile widened slightly, his voice gentle. “And I’ll keep saying it, as long as it makes you smile.”

The rest of the room began to hum with activity again as the members busied themselves changing and tidying up, but Luna and Jeonghan remained in their own little bubble, their connection unwavering despite the distance between them.

The conversation between the two flowed naturally, carrying a comforting sense of ease and intimacy that only came with years of being together. Even as Luna shifted in her seat, preparing to step away to change into more casual clothes, she hesitated. “I should go change,” she murmured reluctantly, glancing at Jeonghan through the phone screen.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, his smile reassuring. “Take the phone with you,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Just close the camera if you want. I’ll wait.”

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to stay on the call while I’m changing, Hannie.”

“I want to,” he replied easily, his voice steady and comforting. “I don’t want to hang up yet.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a familiar warmth settle over her. “Alright,” she relented with a small smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan promised, his tone light but sincere.

Luna propped the phone on the nearby counter, angling it so Jeonghan wouldn’t see anything as she began to change. She could still hear his voice through the speaker as he filled the quiet with soft humming and the occasional playful comment.

“Is it weird that I find your breathing as you struggle to unzip your dress attractive?” he teased lightly.

Luna chuckled as she slipped out of her dress, reaching for her more comfortable clothes, not at all shocked that Jeonghan knew what she was doing just by the sound of her breathing. “Not weird,” she said. “Just proves you’ve been paying attention all these years.”

“You’re unforgettable,” he said smoothly, the grin evident in his voice.

Luna rolled her eyes fondly as she pulled on her hoodie. “You’re impossible,” she shot back, her tone lighthearted.

Jeonghan laughed, and the sound was a balm to her exhaustion. “Yet you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Luna quipped, zipping up her jacket before finally picking up the phone again.

She settled back into the makeup chair, her expression softer now. “Okay, your turn to entertain me while I wait for the others to finish changing.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you want to hear, baby? Should I tell you how perfect you looked on stage? Or maybe how your speech almost made me tear up, but I held it together because I’m supposed to be the composed one out of the two of us?”

Luna laughed, leaning her chin on her hand. “All of the above sounds good. Go on.”

The members began filtering back into the room, grabbing their things and preparing to leave, but Luna remained in her little world with Jeonghan.

Even as they made their way to the car, he stayed on the line.

“Don’t hang up,” she said quietly, slipping into the vehicle and settling into the corner seat.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Jeonghan reassured her, his voice soft as ever.

The call remained active as the car pulled away, and Luna sighed, leaning her head against the window. The night’s events were finally catching up to her, and a wave of exhaustion hit. Her eyes fluttered shut, the phone still balanced in her lap.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything, watching her quietly through the screen. His expression softened at the sight of her, the light on her face, her hair still slightly tousled from the rush of the evening. The sound of her breathing, even and calm, was enough to bring a small, contented smile to his lips.

The car hit a gentle turn, and Luna’s eyes blinked open. She glanced at the phone screen and caught Jeonghan watching her. Her gaze, tired but full of affection, locked with his. “I miss you,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s smile grew, and his tone turned even gentler as if speaking to a child. “I know, baby,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing. “I miss you, too. But it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow, hmm?”

Luna let out a small hum of acknowledgment, her eyelids drooping again. “I want you here,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her tone tugging at Jeonghan’s heart.

“I know, my pretty moon,” he said, his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “But tomorrow, you’ll be back in Korea, and I’ll be waiting for you. You know I’ll always be here.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile at his words, and she let out a quiet sigh. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice unwavering. “And since I have the weekend off, we’ll do whatever you want. Just you and me, okay?”

Luna nodded slowly, her eyes closing once more. “Okay,” she whispered.

Jeonghan stayed on the line, his voice a steady presence as he hummed softly, occasionally murmuring words of reassurance.

Even miles apart, his love for her was palpable, filling the quiet space between them. Luna didn’t have to say anything; his presence, even through a phone screen, was enough.

Soon, Luna found herself with the rest of the members in the restaurant for their dinner.

The restaurant was bustling with the faint hum of conversation and clinking utensils when SEVENTEEN and Luna entered. Their reserved room at the back provided a quieter space for the group to unwind after the overwhelming evening.

Luna, still clutching her phone tightly, smiled at Jeonghan’s face on the screen as they settled into their seats. She propped the phone against the water glass in front of her so he could see her clearly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness. “Nana-ya,” he said softly, amusement lacing his tone, “you’re going to eat, right? Not stare at me the entire time?”

Luna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she gave him a sleepy smile. “I can do both,” she teased. “You’re not hanging up, Hannie. Don’t even try.”

“You’re really going to keep me here while you eat?” he asked, pretending to be exasperated, though the corners of his lips twitched upward.

“I don’t want to hang up,” Luna said, her voice soft but firm. “I want you here, and this is the next best thing.”

Her honesty, tinged with drowsiness, made Jeonghan chuckle. “Alright, alright. But I don’t want you to feel distracted. Focus on your food, okay?”

“I will.” She nodded, glancing briefly at the menu the waiter placed before her.

Across the table, the members were glancing at her phone with knowing smiles but chose not to interfere.

They were used to Luna’s clinginess, especially when she was tired, and if it meant she got to keep Jeonghan close, even virtually, they weren’t about to stop her.

As the waiter took their orders, Luna kept Jeonghan in the loop. “Hannie, I’m getting the spicy stew. Should I get something for you?” she joked, her lips quirking up.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, amused. “Sure, send it over with a side of your award-winning speech,” he quipped, his voice warm and teasing.

Luna giggled, shaking her head. “I’d do it if I could.”

While waiting for the food, the members engaged in casual chatter. Hoshi was animatedly recounting a moment from the award show, and Seungkwan chimed in with his signature wit.

Luna added her comments here and there, but her focus remained on the phone, occasionally glancing down at the screen to find Jeonghan watching her with fond amusement.

“You’re making me hungry just watching you eat,” Jeonghan teased when the food arrived, and Luna dug into her stew with gusto.

“Then grab yourself something,” she shot back without missing a beat, her tone playful.

“I would, but I’m busy being held hostage on this call,” he said, the smirk on his face betraying his amusement.

Luna rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well sit there and watch me enjoy my meal.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you the most.” Luna replied.

The members chimed in with their own conversations, the room filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Luna participated occasionally, but her focus remained divided between her food and Jeonghan, whose steady presence on the screen made the night feel less lonely.

When the meal was finished, and everyone was relaxing with their drinks or dessert, Seungkwan clapped his hands together. “Guys, before we leave, let’s take a group photo. We’ve got to commemorate tonight.”

Luna perked up at the suggestion, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She glanced at Jeonghan on the screen. “You’re already here, so you’re joining us for this.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, am I? How exactly are we pulling that off?”

“You sound like a fossil,” Luna said mischievously, picking up her phone.

The members decided to loop in Jun, hoping he wasn’t too busy. After a few rings, Jun’s face appeared on Joshua’s phone, his expression lighting up at the sight of his friends. “Hey, everyone! Congratulations to us! What’s going on?”

A chorus of greetings erupted, their voices overlapping as they filled him in on their dinner plans. Jun’s smile widened. “Wish I could be there with you guys. How’s everything?”

“Good,” Mingyu said, grinning. “We’re just about to take a group photo. You’re joining us.”

Jun laughed. “Of course. Let me get ready.”

The staff moved to position the camera, and everyone quickly returned to their seats. Luna held her phone up, angling it so Jeonghan’s face was visible. Across from her, Joshua did the same with Jun.

The room buzzed with warmth as the group settled in, some leaning closer to the phones to make sure everyone could be seen.

For a brief moment, everything felt whole.

All fourteen of them were present, even if it wasn’t physical.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan on her screen, her heart swelling with gratitude. Despite the distance, they always found a way to come together.

As the camera clicked, capturing the moment, Luna couldn’t help but think about the day’s victories— their awards, the laughter, and the love that tied them all together.

Fourteen hearts, fourteen stories, intertwined in a way that nothing could break.

Even when apart, they were never truly separated.

This was their strength, their bond, their forever.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY FIVE: overstimulation with ino takuma.

kinktober masterlist

overstimulating ino to the point of tears is more common an occurrence than you'd thought it would be when you first started dating. you knew he was in tune with his emotions—that he was a sweetheart, but you didn't know how pretty he looked when he cried for you.

whether it's with your hands, your mouth, your pussy, a vibrator, a dildo... you know how to spur him over the edge over and over and over until you've rendered him beyond stupid with lust and longing for more.

you had asked him once, after washing his face for him and kissing the lash lines that had just been pooling, whether the tears were emotional or purely a physical response to being overstimulated. he had replied, albeit sheepishly, that it's a very even split of both.

because there was the physical aspect of being overstimulated:

the laying of himself down to you, subjecting his body to a sexual torture he so often craved. placing his pleasure, and sometimes pain, directly into your hands.

the weeping of his cock, all pretty and leaky and swollen with overuse—the electric jolts that would run from tip to base each time you'd press further, coax another orgasm out of him. the way it would twitch and jump at the slightest of touches anywhere else, how neglected it would feel if you weren't devoted to milking him dry.

the tightening of his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, as he cums over and over again under your ministrations. the sheen of glossy release that covers his belly, the trail of hair that runs down his navel towards the base of his cock. the contraction of his muscles with each time you make contact with his burning skin. how he folds forward in his instinctual attempts to run away from the overwhelming stimulation.

his ass, if you so choose to tend to that too. the way he writhes when you stimulate his prostate, fists clenching and back arching off the bed. how he moans as you fuck him with your fingers, or a toy if he's feeling extra desperate to be filled.

his lips, how they tremble with need. the way he babbles, any eligible words lost in the moans and groans of pure ecstasy. he speaks gibberish, can't get half a word out without breaking into a sob.

his hair, how it sticks to his sweat-soaked forehead. how pretty it looks when you push it out of his face and expose those pretty blown out eyes of his.

and then there's the emotional aspect of being overstimulated:

the loss of self, the melting of his being into the mattress as he slips into total focus on how you make him feel. being so intact with the physical stimulation, being a man who gets his ass beaten for a living, is daunting.

the intimacy it leaves, to let himself be worked over the edge so many times by you. how your body is the only one that could bring him pleasure, and you give it to him full force over and over again. in a display of ownership, perhaps. or care—ino knows he'll always be taken care of by you, maybe to a point of nearly passing out, but never neglected.

the love he feels when you touch him in any regard. there's no difference to the way his heart swells when you hold his hand or when you sit yourself down on his cock. he's in love, heart eyes and all. and exuding every last ounce of his physical stamina to give you as many of his orgasms as he can is, in fact, a display of his love. he empties himself for you, offers his physical and mental wellbeing to you on a platter to lick clean.

the safety of it all. to be so vulnerable with you that he's barely sentient in thought by the time you're done with him, in a world so dangerous? it's an aphrodisiac in itself. there's a real deep sexual intimacy to a lack of danger that ino feels in full force when you're pulling a heinous amount of orgasms from him.

it's his favourite thing, to be laid bare both physically and emotionally. of course he cries—he loves you and he loves the way you can pleasure him so overwhelmingly that it hurts. he cries tears of pain, of love, of joy, and of unbridled lust.

and you kiss them away each and every time.

taglist:

@medusamara5 @echodead @aliisinwonderland @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

@chiiinglebells @timetoletmyimaginationfly @nayely45 @waffless-simp-blog

@zoozvie @gothicchildofthenight @repnights @flwerie @soundofraindropss

@ushijimas1simp @aliidarling @aeswin @peachygelic @silvermet

@rinadisapproves @theshxaverse @cipher00 @milkkteary @snackeyalleyjuice

@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh @lotties-ashwagandha

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan

[kurokawaia]

❛ DOLL ❜

Yandere!PM! Osamu Dazai X Fem!Reader

| YANDERE CONTENT |

WC; 1.5k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: yandere! x fem!reader, implied noncon into dubcon, stalking, kidnapping, discrete kidnapping, bruising, abuse, cuts, blood? manipulation, nsfw, smut, piv, cervix kissing, hickies, creampie?, no protection, mention of kids, mention of pregnancy, breeding, nickname: Bella, Belladonna + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 ::dazai kidnap's you and he makes you into his perfect little doll. he does horrible things to you, marking you up as his whether is hickies, cuts or bruises, during sex or not. maybe he even nulifies your ability away and renders you useless, manipulating you

m.list | bsd m.list

You weren't strong, you wouldn't say that you were strong but your sweet words and gentle personality were enough to catch the eyes of Dazai.

Your room has been meticulously crafted for you, you always sat in the centre of your, your and Dazai's shared bed, knees pulled to your chest as your entire body was littered with bruises.

Your life was once colorful, filled with joy; it became a memory you would never be able to catch up with again. Now, the silence that is only broken by the floorboards is replaced by Dazai's sweet or condescending whispers into your ear.

"You're too weak to be outside, Belladonna"

"That pretty face should be for my eyes only."

You clung to a plush pink teddy Dazai had won for you the one time he ever took you out to a traveling fair. You were useless, your body rendered into nothing but a shell of a human being haphazardly constructed by the orders of Dazai.

He'd never hit you physically, though there were more than enough times he would grip a section of your body too tight that it would leave a purple bruise behind. He held onto arms, wrists, shoulders, and legs and hips with a waist, every single part of your body.

Then he'd appease you that same evening, singing to you just how sorry he'd be even if you knew he wasn't. He would be amused by your state, although he wouldn't show it—you could just tell the way that he looked at you.

It is so loving to see the welling-up of those tears within your lash line and how your bottom lip would tremble, smirking at the sight of you pushing down the want to let out your hot tears. Still, the only reason Dazai loves seeing you cry is because he can soothe you.

He'd want to pull you into his arms and have you sob into his chest, your fingers and hands clenching at his suit. He would be so gentle with you, holding you tight to his chest, where an arm would wrap around your waist and another would go around your upper back so his hand could rub the back of your head.

He would smother your face with kisses then, reminding you that you couldn't leave, that you were weak and didn't belong anywhere else but with him, because the outside world had too many dangers for your weak body. 

He nullifies your ability; now you truly had no chance to escape because he even watched your diet. So that even if you had been able to use your ability once more, your body would collapse under its overwhelming force. 

"You're looking rather fragile today," he says, his voice playful as he stoops down to your level. His fingers delicately outline the bruise on your arm, one he formed when you begged to take a walk. "It's almost as if you need me to protect you from the outside world. You're so easy to hurt."

You flinch out of instinct from his touch, the fingers a stinging rose on your purpling skin. For a brief moment, Dazai's eyes soften, but the smile is cold and rational. "You know, if you were outside, unprotected and vulnerable, you would not live out a day. Just not cut out for what the world throws at you."

His words are twisted to be of a reassuring nature, meant to keep you dependent on him. The freedom you once held so dear is now a memory, torn from you deliberately bit by bit. Dazai has made sure that you can neither fight back nor flee.

"You should be grateful," he continues, his voice a soft, sinister murmur. "I'm the only one who can keep you safe from the dangers outside these walls. Without me, you're nothing. Fragile, delicate, Belladonna."

He rises from his seat, his eyes running over you thinly. Bruises and cuts map your body, evidence of how tight, how unyielding his hold on you really is, even though he would never outright hurt you.

"Stay with me," Dazai murmurs in a low, pleading tone. "You do not need anyone else. You are just prey out there. Here, with me, you are safe. You are treasured."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushed against your skin—that was possessive. "Say it with me, no one else will be able to protect you like I can. No one else ever will care about you the way I do."

He straightened up then stepped back, but his eyes didn't leave yours.

Dazai said he never hurts you, but that's all he does, and yet you're starting to lose your correct thoughts. Starting to think maybe what Dazai does is normal. "Oh, darling," he coos as tears are falling down your face, you hadn't even noticed that the tears begin to fall.

"Let me take care of you, make you feel better," he continues, and your body falls flat against the mattress, your hands now falling by your head as he holds them down and your eyes widen.

"W-What?" you manage to barely speak out, your bottom lip trembling. You knew what was coming but you didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Hush, Bella," he sings, spreading layers of hot and heavy kisses across your bare neck and shoulder, dipping back and repeating, "I know you're scared, but I'm here."

You're scared of him, not the outside world.

But your mind and soul are forgetting what it feels like to be true.

"You're mine," he whispered, the breath scorching your skin as his lips made good, solid bites and hickeys down your body, ignoring the yelps and pained mewls that left your plump lips. "Only mine."

A chill ran down your spine as his words emerged, yet a twisted thrill surged through you. His obsession over you was so palpable, almost suffocating, yet it drew you to him like a moth to flame.

And as he came, his lips inches from yours, you knew your resolve was utterly useless. No other vacancy can there be inside the realm of Dazai except for his lusts, and you were utterly ensnared helpless allowed into his kingdom of dark and lust.

Dazai catches your hand right before you make contact with his chest and brings it up to his neck. He closes the remaining space between us, chest to chest, and kisses you, making you forget.

You forget everything he's done to you because he makes love to you so sweetly.

You forget how he gives you bruises.

The cuts.

Forgetting how he marks you all over your body so everyone knows that you're his.

He lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The new position has his cock nearly lined up perfectly where your spongey, gummy spot was, but he moves before you can lose your mind enough to take advantage. We fell down to the bed, inciting an out-of-breath huff from your throats.

"See, you love this," Dazai hums, his cock resting snugly in your walls and you mewl in response. "You're so pretty like this, Bella."

"S-Stop," you moan out, your words contradicting your body.

"Belladonna," he hums, cupping your face with one hand. "It's alright, you can have anything you want and I'm here for you."

But this isn't what you wanted, right?

He cups your breasts, but he doesn’t linger long before he slides down your body and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below your belly button. Content sighs left your mouth as your hands entangled in his hair.

You come so hard, it feels like every system is shutting down. It’s as if that orgasm took his edge off because he takes his time now, dragging his mouth over your stomach, kissing the curves of your breasts. It wasn't too long before his own cum spills inside your pussy, a white ring forming around the base of his cock, his and your own cum mixed in.

He loves how you clench around his length, you say you don't want him, but the way you milk him dry would say otherwise. You cum just from having his length snug inside your cunt and the feeling of his dangerous kisses covering your body.

"You did so well, love," he praises, cupping my face once more, kissing away more tears. "So good for me."

Pulling out slowly, Dazai spreads your legs, admiring the cum that slips from your cute pussy and he momentarily frowns. "No, this isn't going to do," he hums to himself and your eyes widen in worry of what was going to happen.

You were so unsure of what Dazai was thinking, but your thoughts were answered when he entered his length back snug into your cunt and you let a whimper leave your throat in overstimulation.

"It's okay," he reassures, putting his weight on you before readjusting your position, now you were spooning each other, your frame in front of his while he kept his cock all nice and warm in you.

An occasional shiver radiated from your body and Dazai's grip would tighten on you, more bruises forming on your body. His aim was to have you pregnant, to fill you with his seed and breed your cunt, wanting to see your belly swell with his child and watch you struggle even more when you're with a child.

He knows you'd have to be even more careful

and therefore

more obedient.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bsd m.list

[earlysunshines]

drive me crazy!

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni can bear physical touch—unless it’s from you and is oblivious to why that is, oblivious to only her.

warnings: sixth!member reader ; cute and FLUFFY YAAYYY!!!! ; my girl... pls why r u stupid my cute little idiot ; a lil angsty ; idk anything else i didn't mention ; oh um... rly jdashfasd iffy on how the pacing is plus the pining and like everything... was supposed to be short and cute but then i made it more LOL ; not proofread (i don't like reading if u couldn't tell)

a/n: short, silly, cute, lovely, adorable (so hanni) anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! to gf!! also now all the members i write for have a sixth!member reader fic LOL

hanni has always been fine with physical touch, she kind of has to be considering she’s friends with danielle and hyein.

she lets them drag her by the arm, cling onto her, and whatever else that they desire because that’s just how they are. hanni is fine with this, she’s fine with anything the members do.

but you? you’re a whole different story and she has no clue why.

the slightest amount of physical contact from you sends her spiralling, she can’t think right the moment your shoulders graze or fingers brush against one another. her palms go sweaty, her breath gets short, and her face warms up; hanni tends to be more distant when it comes to you.

maybe it's the way you do it so effortlessly, plus that little smirk on your face that renders her dumber than she already is. maybe it's because your hands are always so warm that it makes her flinch away, or maybe it's something more. but this could mean nothing, right?

--

exhibit a:

hanni wasn’t always wary of your touch. there was a point in time where she’d give you hugs without thinking, let you lean on her shoulder or lean on yours, even intertwine fingers during livestreams or just spontaneously because why not?

one night, while in spain during your time recording for the new ep, you two had been put into a room together. there had been two beds, but you wanted to hangout near hanni while you doom scrolled and texted your friends. hanni let you linger there, neither of you had made any physical contact during the time until you mindlessly put your leg over hers, linking it.

while you went on your phone hanni would glance at you, she didn’t know why. you caught her in the midst of it, interrupted her while she traced the curve of your lips and she could only blush.

“is there something on my face?”

hanni still stares, not answering for a bit until a few seconds pass.

“no, i just zoned out.”

“okay...?” you ignore it with a chuckle, returning to your phone.

after hours of scrolling, you yawn, your phone falling somewhere on the bed as the hours of recording and singing throughout that day had caught up to you.

you fell asleep first, your breathing soft and steady, while hanni lay beside you, wide awake. she didn’t mind though. you hadn't moved to your bed, and hanni isn't strong enough to carry you (she's smaller and shorter, that's quite given; you tease her endlessly for it). she couldn’t bring herself to wake you up, watching the peaceful way you drifted off. she felt warm next to you, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, sharing this moment. eventually, she let her eyes close too, not bothering to move. she liked the closeness.

the two of you fell asleep beside each other on your backs, your hands barely touching and a leg tangled with the other.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how you were wrapped around her. your arm was draped over her waist, your body molded against hers, and for a moment, you were too comfortable to move. it was similar to the feeling of cuddling your pillow at night in the dorms, but instead with hanni. you really liked the feeling of her in your arms, weirdly enough.

hanni was awake now too, but she hadn’t shifted yet. instead, she lay still, her heart beating faster as she became hyperaware of the closeness between you two. she could feel your warmth, every breath, every slight movement, and it made her feel bubbly and panicked.

hanni wasn’t used to feeling this way, like her entire body was on edge, but in the best way possible. being this close to you—it made everything feel different, more intense. physical touch isn't new to her in the slightest, considering all the members are a little touchy (danielle is a whole different story), but she's never felt this way with you or any of the other members. her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, admiring how soft and peaceful you looked in the morning light. her nerves kicked in when she realized how close your lips were to her shoulder, how intimate this all suddenly felt.

fuck, hanni thought. everything felt so perfect, but this only made her more wary.

and then you stirred, slowly waking up again, your eyes fluttering open. when your gaze landed on her, your lips curved into the softest, sleepiest smile, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“morning han,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you reach up to gently caress her face. your thumb brushes her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into your touch, her skin tingling from the simple gesture.

hanni can't breathe. her lips part, and then she closes her mouth to tense her jaw.

“you’re so pretty in the morning,” you say, still groggy but sincere. "how are you real?"

hanni’s face flushes immediately, her heart doing flips as she stares at you, wide-eyed. “you can’t just say things like that,” she murmurs, trying to suppress a smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

you chuckle softly, your hand still resting on her cheek, not wanting to pull away. “why not? it’s true.”

hanni wants to pull away, it's too much. she feels like her heart might just escape from her chest.

the way you look at her, sleepy but affectionate, makes her feel weirdly nervous in the best way. the closeness, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her want to stay right there, wrapped up in you.

but she can't, the pit in her stomach doesn't let her.

she shifts away, turning and groaning playfully as she stretches. she checks her phone, the time saving her from this situation.

"shit, we should be getting up soon."

you frown, hand resting on hanni's waist still until she sits up and rubs her eyes. "do we have to?" you ask, wanting to stay in bed a little longer with her in your arms. something about being so close to her and her specifically makes you really content.

"we have to get to the location, eat, get ready, recording—you know, all that."

you pout, rolling away from her and finding a pillow to replace her warmth.

"five more minutes?"

"fine..." hanni huffs, looking at you fondly. she can't tell if she's fond of the weird rush you give her either.

—

exhibit b

hanni is in the middle of vlogging, setting up her phone on the counter as she stirs something on the stove. her voice is light, a little bubbly, as she explains what she’s making for dinner, though she’s focused on keeping everything smooth for the video.

the phone drops and she groans, biting her lip subtly as she sets it back up, returning to her little commentary.

“so, i’m just letting this simmer for a bit,” she says, leaning closer to the pot, “and then i’ll—”

before she can finish, you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist. she gasps, then freezes for a second, her whole body stiffening as your head gently rests on her shoulder. she can feel your warmth instantly, she can smell your signature sweet perfume, and the sudden contact makes her heart jump into her throat.

your arms pull her close, and her cheeks heat up as if the stove’s flames were warming her directly. she knows she’s still on camera, but for a moment, she can barely remember what she was even talking about.

“hey,” you mumble softly, voice low and a bit tired, but sweet. “what are you making?”

hanni’s grip on the spoon tightens, and she laughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “uh, j-just… dinner,” she manages, her voice a little higher than usual. her brief stutter earns a punch to herself (mentally of course) and she cringes internally. her brain is short-circuiting from the feel of you pressed against her back, your head so close to hers. she swears her face is probably bright red by now. there is no way this is getting cut out, especially not with the popularity you two have as a duo.

you lift your head from her shoulder, standing beside her but still lingering close, your arm brushing against hers. hanni tries her best to focus on the camera, forcing herself to talk about the food again, but it’s so difficult with you right there, looking effortlessly adorable after coming back from your shoot. you’re in casual clothes, but there’s something about the way you look—tired but still glowing—that makes her even more flustered.

“you look cute,” she hears you say softly, just loud enough for her to hear but not for the camera, and it completely throws her off. you look her dead in the eye, your gaze dropping to her lips and then back up as you smile. she almost drops the spoon, quickly looking at the camera and then back at the food, trying to regain her composure. her mind is a mess. how is she supposed to vlog when you’re like this?

“uh—thank you,” hanni stammers, her cheeks fully tinted pink now. she tries to laugh it off, stirring the pot with more focus than necessary, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

you chuckle softly, leaning a little closer to check what she’s making. “need help?”

hanni shakes her head quickly, eyes wide as she glances at you, then back at the camera. “n-no! i’m good, totally fine,” she insists, though her flustered state says otherwise.

“okay,” you hum, stepping back but still watching her with a teasing grin. "but if you need me to cut anymore veggies or meat i can! just ring me up! bunnies, did you know that i'm actually a wonnnnnnderful cook? i used to cook a lot with my parents-"

hanni lets you ramble, she loves hearing you ramble. she can't help but smile everytime you do, your voice is like music to her ears, it’s a symphony.

when you're finished with your ramble, you bring the attention back to hanni. "now back to our show!"

hanni lets out a quiet breath of relief, trying her best to wrap up the vlog—or at least this segment. “so, yeah! um, this just needs a few more minutes, and then dinner will be ready.” her voice wavers slightly, but she manages to end the video, turning off the camera with shaky hands.

as soon as the camera’s off, she turns to you, her face still red, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how flustered she is.

“you’re impossible,” she mutters, playfully swatting at you, but there’s a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“what?” you ask, oblivious to everything going on.

"i--" hanni pauses, shaking her head before flicking you in the forehead. "go change, dinner will be ready by then."

…

@/dailyyn on twitter:

“hanni and y/n crumbs! look how good y/n looks after the shoot… imagine being her gf and she greets you like this… id kill to be hanni”

the clip shows you surprising hanni, making her blush with your subtle antics and sharing the cute moment on camera. fans go a little insane partially because of your look, and also the chemistry between the two of you.

↪️@/tokkijeans: is it just me or are they really close? like.. suspiciously close

↪️@/ynslover: replying to @/tokkijeansi wouldn’t be surprised if they. were dating… i’ve never seen hanni so shy

↪️@/hanynenjoyer: this video is so cute! they’re my everything…

—

exhibit c

the studio was lively, filled with activity as the photobook shoot progressed. bright lights flashed intermittently, casting soft shadows over the set as you and hanni stood close, posing for the camera.

you two were in arguably casual clothing, but obviously topped off with some extra details because it was for a photoshoot. you couldn't stop staring at hanni, stealing glances whenever you could. she looked gorgeous, that wasn't debatable. her hair was styled in a way that made it a little wavy and a small clip pinned the hair that would frame her face back.

in return, hanni was doing her absolute best to keep her cool. the light makeup made your features stand out subtly, especially your lips (which hanni couldn't stop stealing a peek at), making you look stunning. you'd probably go trending on twitter later, hanni knows you like to upload selcas after things like this, and each one never fails to gain lots of attention.

(not just from the fans, but from your fellow member too.)

the photographers suggested subtle intimacy—small, delicate touches, heads leaning together, eyes locking in moments that felt almost too real. they had convinced you two it would fit the concept: domestic, casual, and comfortable. for you, it was easy to comply, maybe even natural, to slip into those roles. especially when it was hanni by your side.

your hand brushed against hers as you adjusted your stance, smiling to yourself when you caught her glancing at you. hanni was trying to keep her cool, you could tell—but why? her usual ease seemed strained, her body a little tense despite the casual poses. but you? you were just happy to be this close to her, to feel her warmth as you both leaned into the moment.

the photographer directed a few more shots, asking you to sit beside hanni and lean your head against her shoulder. you did so with ease, resting your cheek carefully on her shoulder. you could feel her freeze slightly under your touch, her body rigid against yours. you bring your hand over and place it over hers, rubbing your fingers gently against her skin to coax her back into relaxation—miraculously, it works.

you didn’t think too much the whole thing; after all, these shoots always required some closeness. but with hanni, it was different. your heart felt lighter being near her, warmer in a way that you didn’t feel with anyone else. you smiled softly as you shifted into the next pose, letting her lean against you this time, her back pressing against your shoulders.

she smelled sweet, like the faintest hint of citrus, and you found yourself wanting to linger there a little longer.

"you smell good." you mumble softly as the photographer readjusts his settings. "like really good."

hanni doesnt answer, she opts for pinching you playfully instead, earning a chuckle.

"what? you look really good too."

"shut up." hanni says, mostly for the sake of her sanity. "you're so... ugh."

the moment ended when the photographer had caught both of your attention again. you two stop bickering (if you could even call it that) and focus once more.

the camera flashes one final time, and the photographer calls it a wrap. as the crew began to clear the set, hanni quickly stepped away, her cool facade returning as she busied herself with adjusting her outfit, avoiding your gaze. your heart sank a little at her sudden distance.

you stood there for a second, watching her, a growing pit of uncertainty forming in your stomach. it wasn’t the first time this had happened. hanni had a way of pulling back whenever you got too close, a way of putting space between you that made you second-guess everything. you were touchy with everyone—that was just who you were—but with hanni, it was different. she made you happier, made your heart feel full in a way that was hard to describe. she was so adorable, so easy to be around, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think of being close to her all the time.

but now, watching her act distant again, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. was it something you did? were you pushing too far? but she's completely fine with dani dragging her around, haerin randomly leaning against her, and even she initiates the phsyical contact with minji. not to mention hyein, who's always clinging onto everyone — but that's hyein, she's like a younger sister to you all.

your thoughts spiraled as you bit your lip, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling.

hanni finally glanced your way, catching your gaze for a split second before quickly looking away, her face unreadable. you frowned, taking a step toward her. “hanni… are we good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the hint of worry bled through.

she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “yeah, of course. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i don’t know. it just—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “sometimes, it feels like you’re… distant. like you’re pulling away. was the shoot too much? was i too much?"

hanni blinked, her expression softening just slightly, but she still didn’t meet your eyes. “no, no— and i’m not pulling away,” she said quietly, but the uncertainty in her voice didn’t do much to reassure you.

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to believe her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “okay. if you say so.”

the air between you felt thick, tense, and it was hard to shake the disappointment that clung to you as you watched her pack up her things. you wanted to be close to her, wanted to feel that warmth again, but right now, it felt like she was slipping through your fingers.

this left you spiraling even more, trying to figure out what went wrong. hanni walks over to watch the others, letting danielle cling onto her and not visibly getting nervous or anything like that. was it you? it had to be.

—

soobin was like the big brother you never had, and you were forever grateful for that accidental meeting while you were a trainee and he was a rookie—when he’d spilled his coffee all over you. it had been embarrassing then, but now? it was the reason you had biweekly catch-up sessions—usually over facetime, since no one in the industry liked to see a girl group member breathing the same air as a boy group member.

but today was different. today, the two of you were in one of the company lounge areas, sharing snacks from the convenience store and sipping on the flavored milk soobin had brought. he watched you quietly, eyes filled with concern as you sank into your chair, picking at your fruit gummies without much enthusiasm.

“have things been rough? are they pushing you too hard?” he asked, his voice soft.

you shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “i think my coworker hates me.”

“as in… a member?”

“yeah.” you sighed, popping an orange gummy into your mouth and chewing it slowly.

“may i pry?” soobin asks, stealing a gummy from your pack.

you nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

“who is it?” he questions, chewing his stolen gummy.

“hanni.”

soobin froze mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “wait, hanni? but— the internet’s always talking about you two. i mean, i know you can’t trust everything online, but i’ve seen it too. you guys seem close.”

“yeah, well, i think she hates it. all the physical stuff, everything i do…” you trailed off, sinking deeper into your seat. “am i terrible?”

the hood of your sweatshirt slipped over your head as you slouched, messing up your hair. soobin couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, tilting his head as he looked at you. “you’re not terrible, y/n,” he assured you, his voice steady. “maybe she’s just—”

“i think i’m in love with her.” you blurted out, groaning as you covered your face with your hands. “i’m in love with her, i think. no, fuck that, i know.”

soobin stared at you, wide-eyed. “you what?”

“i’m in love with her,” you mumbled again, sinking even lower into your seat, hands covering your face. “god, i realized it last night while i was sulking in bed at midnight. and now, everything makes sense. i want to be close to her all the time because i want something more. and i feel like a creep because—am i weird? am i… am i a predator for being so touchy with her? what if she hates me for it?”

he watched as your expression shifted from miserable to horrified, your body practically sliding off the chair now. his deep voice cut through your spiral, calm and steady as ever. “you’re not a predator. trust me. the fact that you’re aware of how your actions might affect her shows that. you’re self-aware, and you care enough to try and make things better.”

“but… this could ruin everything.” your voice was small, defeated.

“it won’t,” soobin says firmly. “i know you.”

“do you know her?”

he shrugged, smiling softly. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you. you always get things done, y/n. you always work it out. remember when we had those dating rumors? you handled that pretty well.”

you groaned at the memory, but it did lift your spirits just a bit. the whole two-week ‘scandal’ had been absurd. someone had noticed that you and soobin both had the same roblox sticker on your phone cases in your selcas, posted just two days apart. it blew up online, spiraling into dating rumors that, frankly, neither of you could believe.

the whole thing was based on a sticker. a roblox sticker. beomgyu had given soobin the sticker, and soobin, thinking it was dumb and funny, gave you one too. somehow, the internet made it a conspiracy.

you had to lie, saying you barely knew soobin, and that you found the sticker on the floor of the hybe building, thinking it was funny. it was the only way to get the fans to calm down. soobin had to pretend he barely knew you as well, but the two of you had giggled over facetime because of it—which was great for your mental state while you noticed the forced hate towards you.

“ugh, that was so weird,” you mutter. “if only they knew we’re—”

“completely off the radar,” soobin finished for you, chuckling. “like some future lavender marriage if the media doesn’t get off our asses.”

you snorted at that, “gross,” but your smile quickly faded as the weight of your current situation settled in again.

he shrugged, his smile gentle. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you to be sure of this. you’re the kind of person who works through things. you always have, and you always will. you’ve told me how close you two were during your trainee days—there’s no way she’d want to throw that all away. besides, isn’t it better to have her in your life, even if you’re in love with her, than to lose her altogether?”

for someone so stupid, he’s equally as wise.

you bite your lip, a sense of helplessness settling in your chest. “i don’t know,” you say, voice soft. “sometimes, i just want to pull away, distance myself so i don’t screw it all up, but… but then i’m around her, and she’s just so... so hanni. she’s adorable and funny and makes me feel so warm inside. and then i'm close to her, and it’s like this weird feeling that makes me want more, but… i don’t want to scare her off. i don’t want her to think i’m weird.”

you could feel tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, your hands trembling as you spoke. admitting your feelings out loud made them feel so much more real, and that terrified you.

soobin leaned over, placing a hand on your shoulder, his deep voice a steadying force amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“you’re not weird,” he repeated gently. “you just care. and that’s a good thing. but you need to trust yourself, y/n. you’re good at this—at reading people, at figuring things out. if hanni ever felt concerningly uncomfortable, you’d notice. just... be careful. take your time. you’ll figure it out. i know you will.”

you stared down at your hands, twisting the edge of your hoodie in your fingers. the weight of your confession hung heavily between you and soobin, but there was also a strange sense of relief in having said it out loud—like you had finally let go of something you’d been holding onto for far too long.

“yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “i guess so.”

—

two days after spilling your alleged unrequited love to your wonderful, amazing, stupid, and very gay bestfriend you had gotten dating rumors with—you're sent to a prada show.

being one of the faces for the brand meant being sent to fashion weeks, shows, and various other schedules that had you showing off the designer brand. and each time this happened, you went viral, because prada never fails to impress, especially when it's you.

you’re set for a photoshoot, this time for the cover of vogue. the weight of it feels significant, but not overwhelming. you’re wearing a prada crop top that shows off your toned abdomen, the result of months of dedication and hard work. the black blazer and slacks, perfectly tailored, give you an oversized yet effortlessly chic look, striking that balance between casual and captivating. everything fits like a glove, intentional but laid-back.

you admire yourself in the mirror, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of your makeup. the subtle eyeshadow that makes a statement, the clean lines, the way it accentuates your features—you can’t help but praise the makeup artist, murmuring compliments as you run a hand through your messy, artfully tousled hair. it’s wild but controlled, you snap a picture quickly for your fans.

when it’s time, you step onto the set, the bold red backdrop making you stand out even more. the lights hit just right, casting shadows that emphasize your figure, and for a moment, as you strike the first pose, you think to yourself: wow, this is for the girls.

after shooting is done, you monitor your pictures and are caught off guard from how great they look. you weren't that confident about oyu rvisuals back then, singing and dancing you could od well, but visuals got to your head. you've learned to love yourself more the more your members and the internet praised you, but mostly because hanni used to compliment you a lot even with your bare face, you wish she still did it.

"woah," you say, snapping pictures of the monitoring screen to post to bubble later.

...

hanni is sitting at the dinner table, a snack in hand as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone. the dorm is quiet, most of the members tucked away in their rooms, and hyein isn’t around tonight since she's with her family. it’s been a long day, but she finds some comfort in texting her sister, filling the silence with their usual banter. she's distracted enough that she almost doesn’t notice the notification from the official newjeans account.

her thumb hesitates before clicking on it, already assuming it’s something from your vogue shoot. everyone knew you were out for the day, busy with your big shoot, so it seemed natural. but what she didn’t expect was how stunning you’d look.

the first picture stops her cold. you’re lounging on some plush couch, leaning back with that casual confidence she’s only ever seen in person—half smirk, half knowing gaze. hanni’s heart stumbles in her chest. you look beyond good. you’re breathtaking. the makeup, perfectly done but not too much, the messy hair that somehow looks effortlessly styled—it’s too much. she gulps without even realizing, eyes locked on the screen as she stares for longer than she cares to admit.

thirty seconds go by, maybe more, before she hesitantly swipes to the next slide. each new picture draws her in further, and it’s not getting any easier to look away. you’re a vision in every shot, and her chest tightens with each one. she knows she’s been trying to distance herself, trying to get her feelings under control, but how is she supposed to do that when just seeing you on her screen makes her lose her cool like this?

“you’ve been staring at that for a while, haven’t you?” danielle’s voice cuts through her thoughts, light and teasing. hanni jumps in her seat, turning to see danielle settling in next to her. she leans over, her eyes landing on the picture of you still displayed on hanni’s phone. “she looks pretty.” danielle adds.

“um, yeah,” hanni mutters, hurriedly swiping out of instagram, but the heat in her cheeks is unmistakable. she sets her phone down as if that’ll somehow help her case.

danielle smirks, raising an eyebrow as she gives her a sidelong glance. “you seemed to like that post, huh?”

“i was just… zoning out,” hanni tries, but the uncertainty in her voice betrays her. it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“seemed like more than that to me.” danielle’s voice is light, playful, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

hanni lets out a forced laugh, trying to brush it off. “what are you even saying?”

“i’m saying,” danielle starts, leaning in just a bit closer, “that it’s quite odd of you to stare so hard at her. not just at her on the cover of vogue, but in general.”

hanni swallows hard, trying to play it cool, but the flutter in her chest tells her otherwise. danielle’s right, and the worst part is, she can’t even deny it.

danielle’s eyes linger on hanni, clearly not buying her act. hanni feels the pressure building, but she stays silent, forcing a simple shrug as if nothing’s wrong. she knows danielle is waiting for her to crack, but she’s not ready to let everything spill. not yet.

"so…" danielle starts, her voice teasing but gentle, “you’re really gonna act like that wasn’t you staring at y/n’s photos for, what, five minutes?”

hanni scoffs, though it sounds forced. “it wasn’t five minutes, and i wasn’t staring like that.”

danielle crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “right. sure you weren’t. you only jumped like i caught you doing something illegal.”

“i was just… scrolling,” hanni mutters, turning her attention back to her phone, trying to seem unbothered. she swipes through random apps, but danielle’s quiet presence next to her makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“scrolling, huh? that’s what you’re going with?”

“yep.”

“uh-huh. so if i ask again why you were so focused on y/n, you’re gonna say… what?”

hanni huffs, leaning back in her chair. “danielle, it’s not a big deal. i just zoned out, okay? she’s my friend. we work together. seeing her on my feed isn’t weird.” her tone is defensive, too defensive for her liking.

danielle raises her eyebrow, unrelenting. “zoning out on the same picture for thirty seconds? then the next one? and the one after that? you sure it’s nothing?”

hanni’s lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling up, though it’s more with herself than with danielle. why is this so hard? why can’t she just brush it off? but danielle is looking at her with that piercing, curious gaze, and hanni knows she’s not letting it go. plus, it's danielle.

“you’re imagining things,” hanni tries, though her voice wavers.

“am i?” danielle leans forward slightly, her tone is soft but persistent. “because i know what i saw. and this isn’t the first time you’ve been weird about y/n.”

hanni blinks, her guard starting to slip. “what do you mean ‘weird’?”

“you’ve been acting strange around her for a while now,” danielle points out. “you avoid her, then get all flustered when she’s near. and now you’re sitting here, staring at her photos like you’re in a trance. come on, hanni. something’s up.”

hanni clenches her jaw, trying to hold onto the last bits of defense she has. “it’s… it’s not like that. she’s just—”

“just what?” danielle cuts in, her voice more patient than accusing. “you can tell me. whatever it is, i’m not judging.”

hanni sighs, her resolve beginning to crumble under danielle’s persistent questions. she opens her mouth, but no words come out, her mind racing to come up with some kind of excuse, something that’ll make danielle drop it. but there’s nothing, and hanni knows it.

danielle’s watching her closely now, not pushing too hard but clearly waiting for hanni to finally let it out. “hanni, it’s okay. i’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

hanni bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. she can feel the words bubbling up, the truth she’s been trying so hard to suppress. but how can she admit it? how can she explain that being near you makes her feel like her heart is about to burst, that every touch and smile from you sends her into a spiral? she's beyond fucked.

“danielle, it’s not… it’s not what you think,” hanni starts, but even she knows how weak it sounds. she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting away from danielle’s.

danielle lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning gentle. “hanni, it’s okay to feel something for her. you don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“i don’t—” hanni stops herself, the words catching in her throat. “it’s not… ugh, i don’t even know how to explain it.”

danielle stays quiet, waiting for her to continue.

hanni rubs her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “i don’t… i don’t know what to do. she’s just—she’s everywhere, danielle. i can’t even breathe when she’s around. she’s always so close, always so touchy, and it’s driving me insane. i can’t handle it.”

danielle’s expression softens further, nodding slowly as if to encourage her to keep going.

“and it’s not like i don’t like her or anything,” hanni continues, her voice wavering. “that’s the problem. i like her too much. and i don’t know how to deal with it, so i’ve been pushing her away. and now she probably thinks i’m a complete jerk, but… i don’t know what else to do.”

danielle raises her eyebrows. “you’ve been pushing her away because you like her?”

hanni groans, slumping down in her seat. “yeah. because every time she's close to me i feel like i’m gonna explode. she’s so—ugh. she makes me feel things, and i hate it. i don’t know how to be around her without freaking out.”

“so you’re in love with her,” danielle says simply, no judgment in her tone.

hanni freezes, her heart skipping a beat at the words. in love. she opens her mouth to protest, but the truth is already sitting heavy in her chest. she exhales shakily, realizing there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“yeah,” hanni mutters, almost too quietly for danielle to hear. “i think i am.”

danielle leans back, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “well, that’s a start. at least now you’ve admitted it.”

hanni buries her face in her hands again, feeling the weight of the confession settle over her. “what am i supposed to do? i’ve been acting so weird around her, and she probably thinks i hate her now.”

danielle shakes her head. “hanni, i don’t think y/n could ever think that. if anything, she’s probably wondering why you’re avoiding her. you should talk to her.”

hanni groans again. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything?”

“you won’t,” danielle says confidently. “you’re both close. i don’t think y/n would throw away your friendship over this. but you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t talk to her.”

hanni knows danielle is right, but the thought of confronting her feelings—and you—feels terrifying.

"and if it makes you feel better..." danielle continues, "i don't think the chances of her not returning the feelings are high. she cares for you a lot and she's not nearly as touchy or close with any of us—just you han."

"oh."

hanni bites her lip, fighting every worry in her head. as she does so, the root of her crisis returns home.

both her and danielle look up to see you sighing as you close the door, waving at them tiredly as you walk towards where your room is. danielle tilts her head, looking at you closely: your shoulders are sinking a bit, your hair is messier than before, and you look exhausted.

"how was everything?" danielle asks you, ignoring hanni beside her who's trying to recover from her feelings taking over. "your makeup is still intact."

"i fear." you say tiredly, rubbing your eyes. "it was cool, but they made me do a lot of promo and interviews. it's over now at least."

you glance at hanni, who's failing to meet your gaze.

"well," you start, "i'm going to go wash up and pass out. night guys."

"night!" danielle beams, smiling.

you look at hanni, waiting for a response. she finally looks you in the eye, then seemingly scans your face and hesitating before she also says, "night y/n, rest up okay?"

"yeah, of course han." you smile softly, waving to them once more before disappearing into the hallway.

danielle looks at hanni immediately after you're out of their sight, and speaks as soon as she hears the door close.

hanni just groans, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles, "she looks too good i can't possibly--"

"don't be like that." danielle scolds, "it'll be fine."

hanni can barely look at you these days, the fact that she has to face you while knowing everything she feels is real and inescapable—hanni might be on her deathbed soon.

—

the room is warm, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and casting a soft glow over the space. your blanket is tangled around you, your loose pajamas wrinkled as you lay sprawled across your bed. hanni stands quietly in the doorway, staring at your still form with a soft sigh. she knows she should wake you up; you've overslept, and the rest of the members have already started their day. but as she stands there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, something holds her back.

your hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you’re wearing that loose t-shirt she gave you months ago. it’s oversized, slipping off your shoulder, and the sight of you like this—so comfortable, so unguarded—makes her heart skip a beat. there’s something about how peaceful you look that makes hanni want to crawl into bed with you, to be close, but she knows she shouldn’t.

she swallows, shaking off the thought, reminding herself why she’s here. she’s supposed to wake you up, not… whatever it is her mind keeps drifting to. taking a deep breath, she walks closer and kneels by the edge of your bed.

"y/n," she whispers, poking your cheek gently. "you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up."

you don’t move, still lost in whatever dream you’re having and turning away. hanni shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do. she leans down and lightly pokes your cheek again. "come on, y/n, wake up."

nothing.

with a tiny huff, she pokes you again, this time a bit harder. "seriously, you can’t just sleep all day. you’re going to be late!" she whisper-yells. 

you still don’t stir, and hanni finds herself smiling despite her frustration. you look so... soft like this. relaxed. carefree. she’s really tempted to lay down beside you now, more than before. she wants to pull the blanket over herself and close her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things are the way they used to be—before all this weirdness between you two. she could pretend there’s nothing on the schedule, she quite literally has free will, she could do it and nothing would stop her. 

but she can’t. she knows she can’t.

instead, she pokes your cheek one more time. "y/n," she whispers, leaning closer. "please get up."

without warning, you move, but instead of waking up, you grab hanni’s wrist and pull her closer, dragging her halfway onto your bed. she yelps, startled, but you don’t seem to notice. you just snuggle into her, wrapping your arm around her waist as if she’s your pillow, your face pressed against her stomach.

hanni freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. you’re still half-asleep, clearly not realizing what you’re doing, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from rushing to her cheeks. she feels like she’s on fire, caught between wanting to escape and wanting to stay right where she is. your warmth, your scent, the way your body feels against hers—it’s overwhelming.

"hanni?" you mumble groggily, eyes still closed. "what are you… doing?"

"uh," hanni stammers, trying to keep her voice steady. "you need to get up. you’re gonna be late."

but you don’t move, just hum in response, your hand moves to loosely hold hers. hanni swallows hard, her whole body tense as she tries to ignore the warmth of your skin, the soft feel of your fingers intertwined with hers.

this is too much.

"hanni?" you mumble again, voice thick with sleep, your hand instinctively pulling her a little closer. "just five more minutes."

hanni can barely breathe, her mind scrambling for some kind of excuse to get out of this without completely losing it. she manages to slip out of your hold, her heart pounding as she sits on the edge of your bed, trying to compose herself. "you need to get up now, y/n," she says, a little firmer this time.

you finally stir, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, confused by the sight of hanni sitting at the edge of your bed. "hanni? what are you… what are you doing here?"

she shifts awkwardly, trying to keep her tone casual. "you were sleeping in, and i came to wake you up. the others are already in the dining room."

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you look at her. something feels off between you two, a tension that wasn’t there before, something bigger than before. you can feel it too, even in your groggy state. the silence hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken distance between you making everything feel… strange.

"hey," you mumble, running a hand through your messy hair, "we, uh… haven’t really talked much lately, have we?"

hanni glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "yeah," she mutters, her voice soft. "i guess we’ve both been kind of... distant."

you nod, still trying to shake off the sleep. "i don’t know why it’s been like that," you say, your voice quiet. "feels like something changed, and i don’t really get it. i’ve been wanting to talk to you, to be honest.”

hanni’s heart tightens at your words. she knows why she’s been distant—because you make her nervous, because she’s terrified of her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. but she can’t say all that. not now. not like this.

"i’m sorry," hanni finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to pull away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle things."

you look at her, a faint frown creasing your forehead. "handle what?"

hanni shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "just… everything. i guess i got overwhelmed, and instead of talking to you about it, i kind of shut you out. i didn’t mean to."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing her words. it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s something. "i thought you were mad at me," you admit softly. "i didn’t know what i did wrong."

hanni’s heart aches at that. "you didn’t do anything wrong," she says quickly, shaking her head. "it’s not you, y/n. it’s me. i’m sorry for making you feel that way."

the two of you sit in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as you both realize how much you’ve missed each other. there’s still so much left unsaid, so many things neither of you are ready to admit yet, but this… this is a start.

"i missed you," you finally say, your voice quiet but sincere.

hanni looks up, her heart swelling at your words. "i missed you too."

the weight of the past few weeks lingers in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like things might be okay again. even if neither of you is ready to fully address the feelings you’re both clearly harboring, at least you’re talking. at least you’re trying.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

hanni and danielle sit side by side on the couch in the waiting room, both scrolling through their phones. it’s a quiet break, the kind they savor between the chaotic schedules, but their attention keeps drifting to where you’re seated, getting your makeup done. you’re chatting softly on the phone, smiling as you talk to your parents, completely at ease in the chair.

hanni, however, can’t seem to focus on anything else. her eyes flicker over to you every few seconds, as if drawn by some invisible force. she watches how you laugh quietly, the way the stylist’s brush glides over your face, how you seem so naturally pretty even in this hectic setting. her mind is still spinning from your recent talk, even though it was brief. it lingers with all the things unsaid, all the questions still hanging in the air.

next to her, danielle finally breaks the silence.

"so," she starts, her voice casual but curious, "did you and y/n talk?"

hanni’s fingers freeze mid-scroll, and she glances at danielle, unsure of how to answer. after a moment, she sighs. "yeah, we talked… sort of."

danielle raises an eyebrow. "sort of?"

hanni shifts in her seat, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "we addressed the distance. like, we apologized for being weird with each other, but… i don’t really know where to go from there. it’s like, we acknowledged it, but it didn’t fix everything. i still feel…" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "i don’t know. confused, maybe?"

danielle watches her closely, nodding slowly in understanding. "well, that’s a start, right? at least you talked about it."

"yeah," hanni mutters, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. she glances back at you, still on the phone, still pulling her attention without even trying. "but it doesn’t really feel settled, you know? like, we just put a band-aid over it."

danielle sighs softly, leaning back against the couch. "stuff like that is complicated," she says, almost as if she’s speaking from experience. then, after a moment of silence, she turns to hanni with a teasing smile. "by the way, you’ve been staring at y/n this entire time. i can’t believe she doesn’t know that you… you know,"

hanni’s face flushes, and she quickly looks away, crossing her arms defensively. "i was not."

danielle laughs, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh, sure. i’ve been watching you. every time she moves, your eyes follow. it’s like you’re in a drama, and she’s the lead you can’t get over."

"i’m just… i’m just making sure she’s okay," hanni tries to defend herself, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrays her. "she’s on the phone with her parents. what if something’s wrong?"

"oh, please," danielle says, her smirk growing. "you’re just using that as an excuse to admire her. you’ve been acting like this for weeks, hanni. just admit it. remember her prada post?"

hanni opens her mouth to argue, but the words die in her throat. she knows danielle’s right, and that makes it worse. instead of responding, she just sinks further into the couch, burying her face in her hands.

danielle pats her on the back with a chuckle. "don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. for now."

hanni groans, peeking through her fingers at you again. you’re still deep in conversation, oblivious to the way she’s been spiraling.

"you’ve got it bad," danielle teases softly, her tone more understanding now. "but it’s okay. maybe just… give it time. you two are good together, even if you don’t know where to go from here yet."

hanni nods, grateful for danielle’s support, but her eyes drift back to you. she can’t help it—there’s something about you that keeps pulling her in, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

—

it’s late, and the dorm is quiet. hanni sits on her bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. she’s been thinking about you all week (she’s always thinking about you), the tension that had built between you two finally dissipating after your brief talk. things have felt… fine, normal even, but it’s almost too normal. like the distance you both addressed had just been covered up with another flimsy bandaid, never fully resolved. 

the problem is, she can’t stop thinking about you. and danielle, who’s oddly observant, keeps urging her to clear the air.

"just talk to her," danielle had said earlier, as they watched you laugh with the others during practice. "y/n wouldn’t let this mess up your friendship, you know that."

and now, as hanni sits there, her fingers hover over her phone screen, wondering if she should actually text you. she taps out a simple message before she can second guess herself:

hanni: you up?

the reply comes almost instantly: 

y/n: yeah, what's up?

hanni: can’t sleep

y/n: aw me neither i was calling my mom earlier and after that i couldn’t close my eyes for more than a minute

hanni: :-(  sorry to hear

hanni doesn’t know what else to say, but you beat her to the chase.

y/n: come over?

her heart races for no reason, and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of your room. she hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly before opening the door.

you’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. you’re worried that you scared her off again after being left on read. thankfully there’s a knock at your door a minute later, and when you see her, you offer a small smile. "hey."

"h-hey," hanni says, feeling a little awkward as she steps inside and sits on the edge of your bed. there’s a brief silence, the kind where you can both feel the unsaid words hanging in the air. she picks at her fingernails, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. you’re still in your pajamas, hair a little messy, looking so comfortable that it’s hard to look away.

after a beat, you exhale, breaking the tension. "fuck this," you mutter, shifting to lay down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "come on."

hanni blinks, then, after a moment’s hesitation, lies down beside you. the bed feels small with both of you so close, but she’s trying to act normal, like her heart isn’t doing backflips just from being near you. you both stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you start talking, and to hanni’s relief, it feels natural.

you talk about everything—the group, your recent worries about the new routines, the photoshoots you’ve got lined up, how excited you are about the new choreography. hanni listens, nodding along, occasionally chiming in about her own thoughts. it feels comfortable, almost like it used to be, like there’s nothing between you but shared conversation.

"i’m really liking the new choreo," you say, turning your head slightly to look at her. "it’s intense, but it’s fun, right?"

hanni nods, her voice soft. "yeah, i love it. i think it’s one of our best routines."

there’s a pause, the kind that feels more like a breath than an interruption. she glances at you, and for a moment, everything feels lighter. like maybe this is enough—just talking, just being close like this.

"you’ve been doing great, by the way," you add quietly, eyes meeting hers, and suddenly both of you are all too hyperaware of how close and physical this is. "i know things have been weird, but i’m glad we’re good."

hanni swallows, her throat feeling tight as she stares at you. for a moment, she considers saying more, opening up about everything she’s been feeling. about how she’s been avoiding you because being close makes her too nervous, how danielle’s been pushing her to be honest, how she’s been daydreaming about you too much for her own good; she considers dropping the fact that she’s in love with you. but instead, she just gives you a small, appreciative smile.

"yeah," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "i’m glad too."

maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re too tired to keep pretending, sick of shrinking into some shell. maybe it’s because hanni is right there, looking like a dream, even more than that. maybe you’re young, stupid, and undeniably in love with her. the tension has been building all night, and before you can stop yourself, the words leave your lips, making your chest feel impossibly tight.

“i need to be honest with you,” you murmur, picking at your fingers beneath the blanket. “and you can pull away and leave after i say it.”

hanni frowns, sitting up slightly. “what?”

you swallow hard, the weight of your confession heavy in your throat. you sit up and put your face in your hands. “hanni, i like you. i like you the way people do in love songs. i like you like people yearn for each other in half the songs on your playlist. i don’t know any other way to say it, i’m—i’m sorry.”

there’s a beat of silence, a long, agonizing pause where you feel your heart shrinking into itself. hanni stares at you, her brows twitching, mouth slightly open, and all you can do is pray that this isn’t the moment everything falls apart.

“are you serious?”

you flinch. “i’m sorry—”

“no, no.” hanni shakes her head, turning away to stare up at the ceiling, hands covering her face. "i need a minute."

your heart shatters, the weight of rejection sinking deep. “hanni, i’m so sor—”

“don’t be.” she lifts her hands just enough to show her forehead, a wide smile breaking across her face. "oh my god. i like you too. i’ve been trying to tell you, i didn’t know how. danielle has been telling me to confess for weeks, but i was so scared."

your breath catches. "wait—seriously?"

hanni nods, still grinning, and suddenly everything shifts. the tension that had been suffocating you both breaks, leaving the air light and giddy. you both can’t look at each other for a moment, the sheer happiness boiling up inside making you fidget, trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. it’s a nice contrast from the (what seemed like) years of pining.

your hearts are pounding, faces flushed, and the awkward energy between you only makes it all the more real. now you’re both sitting next to each other like two middle schoolers in love—something like that—giddy, flustered, and shocked.

hanni glances at you through her lashes, then covers her face again, laughing softly. “i can’t believe this.”

“i can’t believe it either,” you admit, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

for a second, neither of you move. then, on a whim, you reach out and take her hand, the touch sending a rush of warmth through your body. hanni turns to you, her eyes meeting yours with that same mix of nervous excitement. it feels like time slows down, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. and before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

the world stops for a moment.

when you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning like losers.

"oh my god," hanni says, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “was that too quick? did we rush it?”

you laugh softly. "probably. but i think i would like, die if we hadn’t… yeah.”

without saying anything else, you both lay back down, facing each other on the bed, your fingers still intertwined. it feels easy now, like a weight has lifted, and the giddiness that lingers makes it impossible to stop smiling.

eventually, the talking fades, and you both drift off, tangled together, feeling a sense of peace that neither of you had realized you were missing.

everything feels right for the first time in weeks---hanni in your arms, your arms wrapped around hanni, being close to hanni, hanni close to you---and there's nothing that makes you happier in the moment.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Kidnapped!Reader X Slasher!König Somnophilia?

You always cried and fought when he tried to touch you while you were awake. Such a feisty little thing, it's only obvious you tried to resist - the bastard killed your friend and maimed you, rendering you unable to run in the nearest weeks. Konig let you avoid the duties as his newest wife, for now, only staring at you during the night and occasionally steal panties that he would force on you during the day. He is gentle, for a maniac - not wanting to scare you any further and acting just a bit shy and sociophobic, this guy would only gently touch your hair and then kiss you on the forehead like you're the cutest girl there is. Maybe, he really is just shy. If it weren't the same guy who killed your friends and then broke your ankles, you could even think he is kinda cute. Konig is gentle with you - just enough to slip some pills into your drink when he was finally fed up with having his pretty wife all cute and tied up in the basement, but still refusing to do her duties. He had done everything right - he fed you, a pretty nice food for a prisoner, he brought you sweet drinks and little trinkets to throw at him whenever he would visit, he even lend you a couple of his old shirts and pretended the sight of you in his huge clothes didn't make him insanely hard...he did everything he could to make you comfortable - and he was going to take his prize, even if you weren't quite yourself at the moment. Konig carefully slips the shorts off your body, caressing your soft skin - he let you bathe yesterday, and you even refrained from crying as he brushed a wet washcloth over your sensitive areas. He is trying his best not to rattle the chains - you're put because of the pills, so you shouldn't wake up that easily, but he still doesn't want to disturb you too much. He doesn't have much time before he loses control completely, so he takes his time licking and savoring between your legs. It's the only prep you'll get - Konig doesn't want to hurt you, but you were a bad little victim and needed some nice, rough fucking to get your head straight. Maybe he would eat you out later again, carefully cleaning you up from any remnants of the night. Konig pushes his hips forward, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy, feeling it fits him like a glove. You aren't nearly stretched enough for him, but he loves the feeling of your walls slowly submitting to the assault - and he loves your sleepy little sounds. You're so perfect, so obedient while you're asleep - the only downside is that you can't really respond with eagerness and trust your body on this one. Doesn't matter. Another few weeks in the basement, and he won't have to drug you to sleep.

[dixons-sunshine]

Hope | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl never would’ve expected that the universe would grant him you, the love of his life, much less a child of his own to love and care for. So when your daughter was born, Daryl felt truly overwhelmed. However, it happened to be one of the best days of his life.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of childbirth, insecurities.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble but it got longer than I expected lol. I hope y’all like this!

Daryl was in complete awe. His heart was pounding out of his chest. His palms were extremely sweaty. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say or do other than stand motionless and stare. Daryl was a quiet guy, but never before in his life had something rendered him completely speechless quite like this momentous occasion; the birth of his daughter.

It had been a good thirty, maybe forty minutes since the cries of his newborn baby flooded his ears, and he hadn’t been able to say or do anything except look at her and try to wrap his mind around the fact that he was a dad, that he had a daughter now. His baby girl. He was feeling overwhelmed by everything. He had read every pregnancy and parenting book he could get his hands on since you had told him you were pregnant, yet none of them could have ever prepared him for the actual experience. None of them could prepare him for the wave of emotions that flooded through his being when his daughter’s first cries filled the air. None of them could prepare him for the absolute certainty that filled him—he would kill anyone who’d dare hurt his baby girl.

“Dar? You still with me?”

The sound of your angelic voice snapped him from his train of thought. “Hm?” he hummed in acknowledgement, forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings. He was sitting on a chair beside the bed in your home, courtesy of Carol’s kindness. She had taken one look at the archer during your labouring process and had cleverly noticed that he would faint if he didn’t sit down. Thankfully, the crossbow-wielding archer had stayed lucid during the birth, although he was certain that the bones in his hand were cracked from the force you had bestowed on them while you were pushing.

You chuckled fondly as you looked at him through tired, half lidded eyes. “You okay?” you asked him, wincing slightly when you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, the effects of the birth making themselves known to you. Your daughter was busy nursing, her adorable, eager, breathy suckles and gulps the only other sound that could be heard throughout the otherwise quiet room. Carol and Siddiq had left the room ten minutes prior, leaving you and Daryl alone to bond with your new baby.

Daryl cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair, giving you his full attention. “M’pretty sure I should be askin’ ya that. Yer the one that pushed a baby out, not me.”

You chuckled again and nodded. “Yeah, I was. And I’m okay. I’m sore, but that was a given. Nothing we could’ve done to prevent the pain.” Your smile dropped a little, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you looked at your husband. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem a little... out of it.”

Daryl let out a small sigh. “M’jus’ a touch overwhelmed, I s’pose, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t get over. S’jus’... Hearin’ her cries, and seein’ her... I don’ know. It made me realize that it wasn’t a dream. That this is real. That we’re really doin’ this, startin’ a family. S’a bit surreal to me, I guess. ‘Fore all’a this, ‘fore I met ya, when I was jus’ bummin’ it out with my brother, I never would’ve thought that I’d be doin’ this.”

You intently listened to his words, a small, understanding smile gracing your tired features. “Are you scared?”

“Ya kiddin’? M’fuckin’ terrified. I don’ wanna screw it up. I don’ wanna fail either’a ya. If I do... I don’ know what I’d do with myself,” Daryl confessed in a low whisper, his voice cracking towards the end.

Your heart went out for your partner. You were well aware of his fears. You were also well aware of the fact that no amount of reassuring would make his fears go away overnight. However, what you did know was that there was something you could do that could potentially make him feel better at that moment.

“Do you wanna hold her?” you asked him softly, your eyes locking onto his cerulean eyes.

Yes. Daryl definitely wanted to hold her. However, as his eyes trailed down to the small, fragile being that had seemingly had enough to eat and instead opted to slightly wiggle around in your embrace, a new set of worry overcame him.

“Yer sure?” he asked unsurely. “I ain’t gon’ break her or nothin’?”

A light laugh escaped your chest. “I promise you’re not going to break her. You’ll be fine, I promise. Come here. And maybe unbutton your shirt, if you’re comfortable.” Daryl furrowed his eyebrows at that last part, but understood when you explained it to him. “Skin to skin contact helps with bonding. At least, that’s what Carol told me. You don’t have to unbutton your shirt all the way. Just a bit is fine.”

“What ‘bout...” Daryl trailed off, vaguely motioning to his chest. He didn’t need to specify what he was talking about. You instantly knew. His scars.

You sent him a reassuring smile. “She’ll love you regardless, Dar, just like me. Nothing’s gonna change that. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Daryl hesitated but ultimately stood up from the chair, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to a little over halfway, moving to sit next to you on the bed. “Remember to support her head.” Daryl nodded and slowly and gently accepted the baby into his embrace, heeding your advice and supporting her tiny head.

Daryl’s awe multiplied by one hundred when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. Her tiny head was practically the same size as his hand. Her tiny body lightly pressed against his scarred flesh as Daryl held her, and the archer couldn’t help the small laugh of wonder that escaped him. “She’s so small... She’s so damn small.” One of his fingers lightly traced over her tiny hand, and Daryl smiled when she lightly gripped his finger in her small fist. “She’s got quite the grip, too, and she ain’t even a day old yet. Real strong for her age, I reckon.”

“Definitely,” you agreed with a smile, slowly shifting your body to rest your chin on his shoulder, one of your hands coming up to softly trace over your daughter’s cheek. “She’s so perfect.”

“Jus’ like her mama.” Daryl turned his attention to you, placing a soft, tender kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t argue with his words, instead simply accepting the compliment with a small smile. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, simply observing your little girl as she slowly fell asleep in her father’s arms. However, Daryl soon broke the silence again.

“Hope.”

You lifted your chin from his shoulder to meet his gaze, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Her name,” he began to explain. “I think we should call her Hope. S’what I feel when I look at her. Jus’ feels right.”

You smiled at him, before turning your attention back to your daughter. “Welcome to the world, Hope Dixon. I love you so much,” you whispered to her softly, quietly acknowledging Daryl’s choice of a name. Hope. It was perfect.

Daryl sent you a small smile. “S’got a nice ring to it. Hope Dixon.”

“It’s perfect,” you agreed with a smile. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Nah, I definitely love ya more, Sunshine. I love ya so much.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Hello, absolutely love your writing - Drabble

Something based on time traveler’s husband, but the reader is the time traveler and she can end up in bad places or beautiful places (you choose), Azriel all worried maybe, fluff and angst?

Sounds kinda long for a drabble, i don’t know haha 🤍

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst, references to trauma

a/n: Hi! :) I made this sooooo angsty lol oopsie

Masterlist♡

____________________________________________

Never in Azriel’s life did he think it would come to this. 

He held you against his chest as sobs wracked your body, your fingers gripping his leathers with so much force he was surprised the material didn’t rip.

It had been a long one this time. 

Three weeks ago, you were sitting with him on a bench by the Sidra, a small bag of feed in your lap as you spread it out for the animals along the water. He had looked away, only for a moment, but when he turned back the feed was emptying on the ground and your body was gone—lost to a time and place he would not know of until you returned. 

Only, you did not return as you usually did. 

Most of the time, you were gone for a few hours, days at most. Azriel would spend the entire unspecified allotment with a pit in his chest and an inability to swallow, too inundated by preemptive grief and fear that eating and drinking and breathing felt impossible. But slowly, after being mated for some years, the time became more expected, more manageable. You would return exhausted but safe, and Azriel would give you a day before expecting a story. 

But this time, this time, you appeared before him as you always did—your home base, you had called him—and you collapsed into a heap of tears and gasped sobs.

Azriel had tried to parse out what was wrong. He had started with words—simple, easy-to-understand questions, but when it became clear that you weren’t even aware that he was speaking, he moved to touch. He pressed his hands along your back and hair, trailed his lips across your cheeks and dried the dampness there with his fingers. He held you, gods did he hold you, because you were in front of him and alive and every day felt as if that truth would be ripped from him. 

But you still cried. 

You cried to the point that Azriel was sure your head ached. 

“What about Rhysand?” Azirel stressed, eventually resorting to anything else that could help you. “Cassian? Mor? Who would help, angel?” 

Your cries mellowed some, but they were still awful, painful hiccuping breaths that tore a hole in Azriel’s heart. He collected your face in his hands and held you there, a panic in his gaze as he stared at your swollen eyes—at the redness that he had missed when you first fell into his arms. It looked inflicted and unnatural on your face. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Where did you go, my love? Tell me.” 

You turned in his grip, eyes brushing over his fingers as they rubbed soothing lines into your face, and then you cried harder. 

It was all Azriel could do to hold you against him. 

When another sound started to leave your lips, Azriel strained his ears to catch it. Over and over. A repetitive loop that he could not make sense of. He leaned you away from his chest and the words became clear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” 

“My darling, what?” he begged, shaking his head along with his words. “My love, darling, please. What could you possibly be sorry for? Where did you go?”

You took in a harrowing, shaking breath. “It took me there. To that time.” 

It, you always called it, because you never got to choose what point in time you went to. Something else dragged you along at its whim, and that was why the act always filled Azriel with so much dread. He had feared this—whatever you had seen to render you so inconsolable. 

“To where?” he all but whispered, afraid that you would lose yourself again. 

“Your hands, Azriel. For weeks I watched—” Azriel stared back in horror as you clutched at the material of your shirt as if it burned. “I watched and I—I couldn’t do anything. You were so small and I screamed and fought but there was nothing I could do.” 

Something in Azriel fractured that he never thought would heal. 

Before him, his mate grieved a past he hoped would never fully be revealed. You lived through it and were made to watch, whatever power that sent you away cruel and vicious and unrighteous. A lick of anger flamed through him, but something stopped him from feeling it fully. 

“No,” you breathed out, staring down at your arms. “No, Azriel, I can’t go. I can’t—not right now.” 

Your fingers and hands and arms slowly morphed into a hazy glare, and Azriel stared down at them with as much desperation as you did. He reached for you, but his touch went through your limbs and he had to catch himself on the floor beside you. 

There was nothing he could do—absolutely nothing. He and Rhysand had enlisted the help of the Day Court not too long ago, and the entire curse-breaking legion hadn’t found a way to keep you from this fate. 

So, Azriel knew what came next.

He knew that this broken rendition of his mate was fading and he didn’t have the time to pick up the pieces. 

His breath came out in fast puffs as he gathered you into his arms and spoke low by your ear. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be right here when you get back. I’ll wait right here and you’ll be back so soon, okay?” 

You nodded against his shoulder, but Azriel felt the tension in your body as you went to speak. “Okay, yes. You’ll be here.” 

“I’ll be right here, my love. I’m safe here. You’re safe and you’ll come home. I love you. So much. 

“I love you—” 

Azriel’s arms dropped.

You were gone.