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dakotalun · 2 years ago

Text

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He��s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

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mmochammoss · 2 months ago

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AAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHH I’m begging for a continuation of Fan Behavior. That was so sweet and heartwarming and just… perfect ✨

Of course anon!! Here's a little continuation for ya!!🤭🤍

Pt. 2 of this!!————————————————————————

That Girl Is...

Izuku Midoriya had made mistakes before, but nothing like this.

This wasn't a villain-level mistake. Or a “I tripped and broke my arm in three places” mistake.

No, this was worse.

Because this mistake was public.

Because sometime around 1:42 AM, when his body was exhausted but his brain was still on fire, he had reposted a fan edit of you. Not on his burner. Not one of the anonymous, carefully curated accounts where he could freely like, lurk, and spiral without consequence.

But on his main.

His verified 3.2 million followers, official pro hero Deku main.

And it wasn’t just any edit. It was the edit. A cinematic moody masterpiece set to Poison by Bel Biv Devoe, and had just enough clips of you to make the thirsty undertones of the montage utterly unmistakable.

“Oh, shit—” His voice cracked as he bolted upright, nearly flinging his phone across the room. His thumb was already scrambling for the delete button, but it was too late. Way, way too late.

Over 87,000 likes.

Thousands of retweets. Hundreds of quote tweets. The fan that had originally posted the edit had already screenshotted it and captioned the post:

“DEKU DROPPED HIS STAN CARD AND I PICKED IT UP.”

His name was trending.

#DekuCaughtIn4k

#GreenFlagBehavior

#IZUY/NREAL???

#midoriyahastaste

Not because of a mission. Not because of an award. But because he’d accidentally reposted a thirst edit of you on his verified, pro hero, blue-check account.

He’d thought he was still logged into his burner.

He wasn’t.

He stared at the screen, blank-faced, heart rate climbing like he’d just run a 5K.

The video was still up. featuring you in battle, you on talk shows, you smiling and laughing naturally, showing off that gorgeous smile, flipping your hair, and, oh god, biting your lip mid-interview.

The caption?

“She’s driving me out of my mind…”

He whimpered into his hand.

He hadn’t just reposted it either. He’d liked it. He’d commented “🥵.”

He was going to die. He was going to actually, physically disintegrate.

The notifications wouldn’t stop. His phone was vibrating like it was possessed.

People had screen-recorded the repost. Screenshotted it. Quoted it. The works.

“OH MY GOD. HE THOUGHT HE WAS ON THE BURNER.”

“King just like me fr”

“This man is so real for that.”

“3 AM scroller behavior. I respect it.”

“how do I compete with Deku watching fan edits like the rest of us peasants?”

“Y/N YOU BETTER SAY SOMETHING.”

Izuku stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

He paced. He panicked. He briefly considered throwing his phone off his balcony.

He definitely considered deleting the post.

But it was too late. It had been up for eight hours. Everyone had seen it. Hell, people had already translated it into five different languages and started arguing about the “ship implications.”

He was forced to ignore it and at least attempt to pretend to be normal.

He went to meetings. Nodded politely during briefings. Smiled at fans and civilians during his patrols. Meanwhile, his phone sat in his pocket like a time bomb, reminding him every ten minutes that yes, he had publicly thirsted over a video of the woman he’d been secretly in love with for years.

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t open the app again. That he’d leave it alone. That he’d log off, touch grass, go meditate in the sun.

But around 3 p.m., after hero work had wrapped, his thumb betrayed him.

He opened the app again.

And saw your reply.

@ProHeroY/N replied to @ProHeroDeku’s post with:

“💚💚💚”

Three. Green. Hearts.

His color. The emojis. You replied to his post.

He stared at the notification so long that his assistant poked her head in to ask if he was okay.

He wasn’t. Not even a little.

“Oh my god.”

You’d seen it. You’d acknowledged it. And you’d responded, not with embarrassment, not with “u good bro?”, but with four soft, sweet, distinctly flirty green hearts.

His heart was doing gymnastics. His stomach had flown the coop.

The reply had barely been up fifteen minutes, and already your fandom was rioting.

“THE HEARTS. THE HEEEAAARTS.”

“She’s in love with him too oh my god don’t talk to me.”

“Somewhere Bakugo is gagging.”

Izuku was floating.

That night, for the first time in weeks, he didn’t fall asleep rewatching your interviews. He didn’t scroll on burner accounts or stalk your likes.

He just laid in bed smiling at the ceiling, phone tucked under his pillow, cheeks warm with a quiet, giddy kind of peace.

Until,

Ding.

He blinked. Rolled over. Unlocked his screen.

A new notification.

You’d just reposted something.

A fan edit.

Of him.

His heart stopped.

He clicked it open, volume on low, and watched himself move across the screen. It wasnt just any edit either. But one of the newer ones, it was set to west side by Ariana Grande. A thirst edit, the kind his fans only started making recently. The ones that were pulled from interviews, victory speeches, and unguarded moments when he thought no one was watching.

The caption?

“I wanna be your new favorite~.”

You had reposted it with just three words:

“My new favorite.”

If waking up that morning hadn't killed him, this almost finished the job.

He literally rolled off the bed. Had to lie flat on the floor with a pillow over his face. He was kicking his legs. Actually kicking. Hands covering his mouth like someone had told him the secret to the universe and it was you.

He read the caption again.

And again.

My new favorite.

He’d been spiraling for years, thinking he was just some pathetic, background character in your story.

But now?

Now he didn’t know what the hell this was. Mutual pining? Public flirting? Was this… was this real?

He didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He was too busy making sure it wasn’t a dream.

He wasn't sure what would come next.

But for the first time ever, he thought maybe you watched him just as closely as he watched you.

————————————————————————

Requests are open!!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya fanfic #izuku midoriya fluff

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pinkkpjobx · 5 months ago

Note

can you do an imagine where jj is obsessed with reader but he’s also very shy around her like he’s always confident and his flirty self with everyone else but with reader he just gets flustered everytime he’s around her. maybe him asking her out or confessing his love for her or something idk

I gotchu babes

warnings: none really, just fluff! not proofread.

notes: yall....i had like all of it written, then Tumblr decided it hates me and deleted all of it, so i had to rewrite it (it did it twice 😭) ...i actually cried.

°♡°

it all began in freshman year, when jj started flirting with every girl to distract himself.

every girl but you. every time he tried, he would stumble over his rehearsed pick-up lines and walk away a blushing mess. he didn't understand it.

he didn't understand you.

until junior year, when he finally realized he liked you. which didn't make a whole lot of sense because the only interaction he had with you (other than the failed attempts at wooing you) were small smiles across the classroom and friendly waves when he just so happened to go surfing at the exact same time as you.

he would be so entranced by the way you balanced on your board as you rode the waves that he would fall off of his. you would look over curiously, unaware of the previous staring. on the rare occasion that he was able to stay up, he would show off and hope that you were looking.

and you were. every time he caught a wave, you were watching him as he did some over the top trick, giggling to yourself as he messed up half the time.

now, you weren't stupid. you knew he liked you, but you wouldn't act on it. not unless he initiated it.

so you started going to the same parties him and hanging out with the pouges in hopes to get closer to jj.

as soon as he would see you at a party, he would find some random girl to hook up with, just so he could leave the party with a reasonable excuse.

as for the pouge hangouts. he would always manage to sit on the opposite side of the room, twinkie, bonfire, you name it.

you were completely fine with it, knowing he needed time. however, the other pouges were not. namely sarah and kie, the other two were dragged into it.

so one surf trip, while you, pope, and jj were in the water, the others were building a fire and ploting. they came up with a plan to get you and jj to sit next to each other and hopefully spark a conversation. then they'd get up and pray that jj would build enough courage to ask you out.

pope, done for the day, swam back to shore, leaving you and jj to ride the next waves.

well, leaving you to ride the waves and jj to watch as he failed to stay up for even one.

after a few more waves (and a couple wipe outs on jj's part), the two of you returned to shore as well.

"some sick waves today." kie said as you sat down next to pope, leaving the last open spot the one on your left.

"best i've seen in a while." pope, responded. the group fell into another comfortable silence as everyone waited for jj to return from the twinkie.

"beer, weed, and marshmallows. or what i like to call, a good time." jj announced his return as he tossed the bag of marshmallows at john b. once he passed out beers, he looked at he empty spot next to you. "uh, yeah! i'll just...i'll just sit here." he sat down next to you, careful not to let his knee or elbow graze you accidentally.

kie and sarah smirked at each other, while pope and john b looked at each other with weary expressions, not quite sure how this would pan out.

"tough waves today, jj? couldn't seem to stay up." kie teased.

he looked down, thankful for the fire infront of him for masking the blush on his cheeks with orange and yellow hues. "not my day, i guess."

"says the best surfer on the island." you complimented.

"that's rich coming from you." he responded, internally patting himself on the back for managing a sentence without stuttering or stumbling over any words.

"i've had off days before." you said, wanting to keep the conversation going.

"y-yeah, but your off days are on the same level as my good days." he looked at you briefly, catching your eyes, before looking back to the fire.

you smile at the compliment. "thank you."

as the conversation continued, he grew more confident in his words. he even started fishing for opportunities. suggesting surf trips, parties, even offering to walk you home that night.

he was so concentrated on not making a fool of himself that he didn't even notice the other pouges leaving.

over by the twinkie, sarah smirked at pope and john b. "told you it would work."

pope smiled over at jj while john b just shook his head. "i shouldn't have doubted you."

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

"if you could travel anywhere in the world, anywhere, where would you go?" jj asked. he was walking you home, your path only illuminated by a flickering street lamp.

"hmm, I've always wanted to go to greece." you replied.

he nodded, taking a mental note of that.

"what about you?"

"south africa." he said.

"why?"

"apparently, the waves there are top tier."

you hummed at that. "maybe i'll tag along....if that's okay with you?"

"yes!" he cleared his throat. "i-i mean..yeah, pfft, sure. why not?"

he smiled too. "great, um. do you-do you wanna go to lunch? or, or surfing? or both...we could do both, if you wanted-"

your house came into view and he took a deep breath, wanting to ask you before the night was over. "actually, i, um, i wanna ask you that. well, not that specifically, but, something close...kinda-"

"jj." you stopped his nervous rambling. "calm down."

he nodded. "right. right, yeah. um, i wanted to ask, if um, if your free tomorrow?"

you smiled. "i am. i am free."

"yes."

he paused. "what?"

"yes, jj. i would love to go out with you."

his face broke out into a smile, brighter than that coming from your porch light. "okay. okay, great, i'll-i'll come by at noon?"

you nodded, your own smile stuck on your face. "perfect." you looked up at your house. "thank you for walking me." then you did something he would remember forever.

you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"n-no problem."

"i'm gonna go inside now." you said, giggling.

"yeah! yeah, that's- that's good. i'll uh, i'll pick you up at noon."

you nodded and walked up the stairs to your house, closing the door with one last glance at jj.

he stayed there for a few minutes, bathing in the feeling of bliss that came from spending time with you.

when he finally started to walk back to the chateau, he couldn't stop himself from doing a small victory dance.

you watched from the window of your room, smiling at the idiot who stole your heart.

°♡°

#pinkkpjobx #jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #outer banks jj #jj maybank fluff #outer banks

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asapeveryday · 28 days ago

Text

noctuary #6 - p.b x tlou au

noc·tu·ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--read pt.5 here. --read next chap here

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: drinking, smoking

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: hi it’s been a tough couple days and I also accidentally deleted like almost all of this fic and had to restart which. Made me want to abandon it all together honestly so sorry for the wait.

FIRE CRACKLES COMFORTINGLY behind you, orange beautifully contrasting with the deep navy night.

You're on your third drink, not drunk, but buzzing, all tingly fingertips and loose smiles as Nika's shoulder bumps yours. You're got your arm strung around her—a little too much pda for your sober tastes--but she's off balance without it and you're having too much fun to care.

The group is big, a large posse amongst the existing cluster or people surrounding the trash-fire. You and Nika, glued by strewn limbs, Aubrey, Ice and Caroline, who are reaching that giggly phase of alcohol intake, Kk and Jana, one bouncing off the walls and the other wholly sober.

They're a tight knit family, it's obvious as you watch them, the light punches and unintelligable jokes, the looks shot over heads that only they can compute. It doesn't make you feel like an outsider, suprisingly it makes you feel warm. After one too many arguments and another hour spent in their circle by the fire, you feel like their stares aren't so foreign after all.

They like you. They have names for your name: newbie, horse girl, crossbow babe, drug dealer. They label you with laughter and genuine care, no malice. By your fourth drink, it doesn't occur to you to be offended. They have names for themselves too, and they're not much better.

"Nah, you guys don't get it." Nika grins sloppily, squeezing your shoulder with the arm that's slung around you. "She's our plug. We gotta respect her."

"You got any on you?" Caroline raises a curious brow. Before you can respond, Kk's patting your front pockets down from behind.

"Oh naw, she's off duty I guess." Kk slurs, taking her hands off of you.

"You can't just feel her up like that!" Jana laughs, tearing Kk away.

"Yeah, back off my plug." Nika huffs, shooing the shorter girl away. "Or else she's only gonna sell for me."

"I'm not even selling." You roll your eyes with a smile. "You guys get my shit for free."

"Oh for real?" Ice's eyes widen. "Thought Paige was trading you something."

You take another sip of your drink at the mention of her name, shuddering as it makes it's way down.

"Me too." Kk nods. "Where'd you get all these cute ass clothes from then?"

"This," Nika grins warmly, pointing at your body, "is all me, baby."

"Yeah, I thought so." Aubrey nods. "Did you dress like this back where you came from?"

"Like this?" You motion to your bare legs. "We didn't get to just hang out, we were always working. You can't fight infected in this."

"Do you miss it?" Caroline asks lightly. "All the action, I mean."

The others tune in, and you realize just how interested they are in you. Still, you can't help but stiffen at the question, it was only all you'd been thinking about in the past week.

When you falter Nika fills in the silence, fingers squeezing your shoulder in quiet notice. "Bro, just say you want her to take your spot on patrol and move on." She says, and the others laugh without notice of your hesitation.

"I wouldn't" Aubrey shrugs. "I mean, it's nice to get out there. But you deserve a break."

"She's been having a break!" Kamorea laughs. "Girl has been brushing horses for a damn month."

"Suprised you're not bored yet." Caroline hums. "I'd be depressed."

"Everyone's depressed either way." Jana snorts, and the girls ceremoniously clink their drinks with mhm's and you right's ringing somberly through the air. You raise your drink to Nika's, nodding mindlessly as she catches your eye, clinking her beer bottle to yours.

You realize at that moment, through all the murmurs and laughter against that crackling fire, that all of them struggle too. Maybe it's the reason for all of these festivities, the late night joints and boombox blasting. You can appreciate their efforts to make Jackson as normal as they can. It's admirable, heart-warming, even.

"Whatchu smiling to yourself for?" Nika raises a brow, bringing all the attention back to you.

"Nothing." You bite back a grin, shaking your head.

"C'mon now." Kk teases, flinging an arm around the side opposite Nika's. You're sandwiched between the two girls, both of them swaying to the old rnb that graces the air.

"You guys aren't too bad, that's all." You mutter, cowering slightly as the expressions around you break into giddy smiles.

"I think we cracked her." Aubrey hums, nudging Caroline and Ice fondly. Jana stalks over to fling her arms around you too, but the height difference is so awkward that it makes you all laugh.

Ice takes Caroline by the hand, who then latches onto Aubrey. In a drunken line they join the huddle, arms circling around the girls that already squeeze you tight.

In normal times you would've gone as far as bites or blows to get them off, but the smell of smoke and beer against their amused giggles and warm hearts makes the contact far more palatable.

Even if it's elevated by alcohol, and your head is spinning slightly and your balance is growing off-center, it still feels good.

You can barely see ahead of you, even with some squirming to loosen their grips. They start to sway in unison, shrill squeals and laughs ringing through the air. Somewhere along the stumbling around, a crack opens in your line of sight.

You can see the glow of orange flame, the clusters of other people scattered, and a body in the middle, all eyes but your posse's on her. In that moment it feels like the air is being sucked in her direction, all of the attention, every component of Jackson's Milky Way directly warped into her gravitational pull. You feel the pressure in the air.

When you stop swaying, the others do too. Nika mumbles something, but you don't respond, You just stare at the approaching figure, eyes squinting, trying to make out the face.

High cheekbones, dotted with divets left by teenage acne and picked scabs. Lashes long, downturned, serving perimeter to electric blue eyes. Full lips, pink beneath the chapped lines. Blonde hair greased back into a bun.

The girls pause too, they turn too slow, and they gawk at her. They're sucked into her pull just like the rest of them. You're the first to break, refusing to contribute to her attention-grabbing presence, but you don't speak.

Nika breaks second, parting from the group.

"Big P!" Nika squeals, running over to her with arms outstretched, drunkenly crashing a little too hard. Paige smiles and welcomes the pummel-hug with an amused look, noting Nika's trashed state.

The other girls follow soon after, shoving her, surveying her condition, ruffling her hair, flicking her shoulder. You stay planted, nursing your drink.

Her lips move as she speaks to them, low and charming beneath their excited volume. They ask and she answers, but her eyes stay on you.

You watch her stance, a slight limp but still somehow balanced as an athlete, posture perfect, head held high. Her eyes wash over you like cold water, you can feel them drag over your clean hair, beer-flushed complexion, bare skin. She wets her chapped lips, and for whatever reason, you catch it. And you shiver.

The girls make another fuss. They trust she'll always come back, but they're ecstatic nonetheless when she does. Nika grabs a beer from someone nearby. Paige cracks it open with a shiv she slips from her pocket, throws her head back and downs at least half.

You watch her throat as she swallows before her head dips forward again, a dirty hand raising to wipe her mouth. Those who stand by whoop and holler the whole way through. They raise their drinks to her, call out her name, and succumb to her gravity.

She raises her drink to you, ignoring the power she has.

Or perhaps not noticing at all.

YOUR SKIN RESEMBLES goose flesh for the rest of the evening.

It's animalistic, you feel like prey. Paige lingers, she works the party. She dallies with every group there is, and yet you can feel her eyes, those beautiful, awful, fucking eyes on your back, your neck, your face, every expanse of skin she can zero in on.

She wants to talk. You don't have to be a genius to understand that. She works the group like a true people-pleaser, but in doing that she circles you. Watches your interactions, the way arms sling possessively around you, the way her friends claim you to be their own. And she can't even get close.

She's slicked with sweat. It glistens off of her forhead and her bare arms against the fire light. She talks to some girl who's intently gazing into her eyes, but Paige keeps breaking that contact to shoot glances at you as you talk to Nika.

"Uh, hello?"

"Sorry." You jerk, snapping back to Nika's face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, one brow raised dangerously.

"You gunna talk to her?" Nika smiles slyly. "Cusss' she's staring at you so hard it's actually pissing me off." She slurs.

"You're drunk." You dismiss her, ignoring how Paige glances over again.

"Bitch," Nika groans, "I bet she missed your robotic ass. Prolly wishes she took you with her."

"Shut up." You sigh.

"Look at her." Nika snorts, turning so obviously to glare at Paige. "She's already drunk, crazy girl. Who the hell comes back after four days out there and gets drunk?"

"Nika, stop." You urge her, but it's too late. The brunette is waving Paige down aggressively, saying, "P! Put the beer down and go take a damn shower!"

You sigh, chugging the last of your water as Paige makes her way over with obvious struggle.

"What'd you say?" Paige chuckles, intoxication evident in her tone.

"I said you stink." Nika grins. "Stop drinking and go home n' wash up."

"Ion' think I smell that bad." Paige hums, tipping her beer bottle back for another sip. "Lemme celebrate. You guys always do fun shit when I'm out."

"You're the one who dips without Geno's permission." Nika shoots back. "He's seriously gonna kill you tomorrow, by the way."

Paige just shrugs, glancing at you sneakily. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. You can sense her thinking, preparing herself to speak with you. You beat her to it.

"Where's Sue?" You ask.

Paige looks affronted for a moment, and Nika bursts out laughing.

"Horse girl only has one thing on her mind!" Nika wheezes, slapping your back. "Damn, you're something."

"What?" You frown, glancing between the two of them. Nika laughs way more than your comment should've probed. Paige just bites her lip.

"P leaves for four days and you only care about the damn horse." Nika snorts.

"Someone has to." You shrug, shooting an apologetic look Paige's way. She shakes her head with a little smile, amused.

"Left her with Ashley and Sarah at the gate." Paige hums. "They're taking her to the stables."

You nod.

The conversation dies out. A few of the other girls find your group, chattering away with Nika while occasionally including you and Paige in the mix. You just down your water, Paige her beer.

She sneaks glances at you in between mindless chuckles and jibs between words. Those looks, the one thousand ways her eyes slice you open like a machete to flesh, mean something other that what leaves her mouth.

They bleed questions and their answers, unintelligible analysis that you’re sure you want no part of. It’s like you’re being pulled through walls towards her by this impossible vortex.

Of course, sharp-eyed Nika can sense it through her drunken state.

“You guys good?” She cuts through the thick air, waving a hand over your eyes and shooting Paige a look. “Ya’ll got something to talk about?”

“No.” You say before Paige can answer. “I think I’m done for the night, actually. M’gonna head home.”

There it is again, the bumps on your arms at the raise of Paige’s brows, subtle but there, expression illuminated by the fire light. Nika just groans.

“Nnoooo…” She whines, latching onto you. “Stayyy. Paige just got here.”

“I know.” You bite your lip. “Sorry, Paige. I’m exhausted.”

“S’fine.” Paige nods, though she thinks for a moment. “I should go too. I’ve had a long couple days.”

“Are you serious?” Nika scoffs, turning to Paige now. “You’re both leaving?”

Your eyes catch hers over Nika’s head. You both shrug, small smiles playing on your lips.

“Okay, well fuck.” Nika huffs. “You guys walking together?”

“Uh,” you mumble. “Are we?”

“My house is on the way to yours.” Paige nods. “So yeah, if that’s alright.”

“It’s fine.” You nod.

“You guys are so weird.” Nika smirks, eyes darting between the two of you. “Stay safe I guess. Don’t piss in any bushes or else Dawn is gonna swiss cheese you.”

“Meaning?” You raise a brow. Paige just shakes her head with a laugh. “Never mind that.”

You shift on your feet. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah.” Paige nods.

THE WALK IS mostly quiet.

The sky is so clear, speckled with stars and wholly cloudless. The smell of smoke grows more and more faint, but it lingers on your clothes and hair. She smells like smoke too, along with four day sweat and dry blood. She’s not covered like she was when you first came here with her, just a few splatters here and there. Not much struggle, it seems.

She keeps glancing at you, you’re not surprised, just unsure how to talk. It was so natural the last time you spoke.

Finally, you meet her eyes. She glances away in a split second when you catch her, but smiles and looks at you again more clearly after a beat, accepting the eye contact. You both grin slightly at the awkwardness of it all.

“How was it?” You ask.

“Good.” She nods, “much needed.”

“I’m sure.” You hum. “You were missed.”

“By you?”

“By everyone.” You shoot back, eyes narrow. She laughs a little at your response, shaking her head.

“You’re never gonna let me have it, are you?”

“Have what?”

“Never mind..” She snorts. “So, did they talk bout me?”

“Not really.” You shrug.

“So how’d they miss me then?”

“They just did.” You state, planting your eyes on the gravel road you walk on. “I can tell.”

“Well,” Paige mumbles, eyeing you closely, “I guess I did get a pretty warm welcome.”

You nod halfway, recalling the way the world seemed to stop once people recognized her. It was overwhelming, powerful, but also terrifying. Maybe something you wanted to bring up. But not now.

“Are you hurt?” You ask.

“Exhausted.” Paige smiles. “Super drunk, by the way. And exhausted. And aching.”

“Paige.” You frown.

“Not hurt.” Paige doubles down. “Not badly, anyways.”

“Yours or something else’s?” You ask, pointing to the speckle of blood on her black tank.

“Something else.”

“Were there a lot?”

“No.” She hums. “It was calm.”

You nod, subtly eyeing the way she walks. Her steps are heavy, her head seemingly held with much effort. You can tell now that the buzz of socializing has worn off, she’s incredibly tired.

“You looked like you were having fun.” Paige cuts between your thoughts.

“And what does that look like?” You ask.

“Not like anything I’ve seen from you before.” She snorts, and you feel a slight prick of jealousy from her. “You were all smiley. N’ they were all over you.”

“Yeah, well.” You shrug. “I’m a few too many drinks deep. And you have good friends.”

“Looks like they’re your friends too.” She says, eyes piercing you like spears.

“Jealous?” You glance at her, feeling a little surge of hot confidence against the cool wind.

She chews her lip for a moment, half taken aback from your forwardness and half amused by it.

“It’s good to see you like that.” She finally shoots out. “But I can’t help but be jealous too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. You weren’t expecting that answer either. She laughs, seeing it on your face.

“No need to be.” You manage to chuckle. “They might just like me for the weed anyways.”

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I think they like me. But I also think we were all drunk. That changes things.”

She nods slightly. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Not like before.” You say. “M’ not sober though. Still tingling.”

“Sweet.” Paige grins, looking up at the sky. “I’m not even gonna lie, everything is kinda spinning right now. Like, not a lot, but it’s kinda making me feel sick.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” She hums, popping the p. You watch as she closes her eyes, head still tilted to wards the stars. “Fuck, the fresh air feels so good.”

“Paige, how far is your house?” You ask. “N’ are you good to walk home alone when I leave?”

“I’m fine.” She says with little worry. “I’ve done harder things while drunk.”

“Okay..” you trail off, worry only growing as you spy your house coming up on the road.

“Should I walk you to the door?” Paige grins, laughter a ghost on her lips.

“No need to be a gentleman.” You shake your head with a smile, walking up the path to your front door. She follows beside you anyways, tripping slightly as you pass through the gate.

“Paige, you good?” You frown, even more concerned. “I don’t think you’re gonna make it home tonight.”

“Of courseeee I am.” Paige huffs. “I always make it home.”

The comment sinks a little deeper than it should. Maybe it’s the slightly pathetic way she says it, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. The way she says it so easily, like there’s no question...or rather no room for question at all.

Before you can even respond, she jerks away from you and folds over, vomiting onto the bush by your front door.

"Fuck." You curse, rushing over to hold back the strands of hair that escape from her loose bun. You let your fingers pull back the blonde whisps as she empties her guts on your front lawn, pulling away once or twice just to gag and do it all over again.

It's only a few seconds later that she's spitting up saliva, breathing heavy, hands on her knees.

"Sorry about your bush." She coughs out, glancing at you with embarrassment.

Those words make your chest pinch.

"Jesus, Paige. I don't give a crap about my bush." You frown, taking in her face, which is now pale and shiny with sweat. "Why the fuck are you so accommodating all the time? You're drunk and exhausted, you don't have to be sorry for anything."

Her brow just furrows, and she takes one hand off of her knee to harshly wipe her lips. After a slow blink, all she says is, "Huh?"

You pause.

"Never mind." You sigh, trying not to look at the bile all over your lawn. "Just—just come inside."

Paige's eyes widen. "I'm fine."

"Just spend the night. Wash up, sleep." You tut. "I won't be the reason you blackout on the way home."

"I guess I could use a shower, huh." Paige grins, though it's one of the weakest she's spared you yet. You open the door for her, and she steps inside like it's her own house.

You look outside at the clear, starry sky, and will your chest to unravel whatever tension always seems to build around her. Your fingertips tingle. Your head pounds. You breath the clean air, and then step inside.

THE NIGHT IS long, and quiet aside from the sound of her breathing, and the whirr of your electrical fan.

It was all sort of a blur. You showed her around briefly via the point of your finger. Kitchen. Living room. Stairs. Bedroom. Bathroom.

You poured her a glass of water, and draped your couch with your blankets and pillows. She complained the whole way through, but slumped over on the old cushions like they’d been calling her name all night.

She was asleep before you could offer her anything else. And then it was just the sound of air through her nostrils and the creak of floorboards under your feet.

You find yourself in bed, back to the mattress, eyes on the popcorn ceiling. They open. They close. You hold them that way, but nothing happens. Your breathing slows. You fingers stop twitching. No sleep comes.

You turn to the side. You put on a thicker pair of pyjamas shorts. You wrap yourself in a blanket, then sweat profusely till you strip those shorts off and the blanket is kicked to the foot of your bed. You almost take your top off too before you remember Paige is sleeping just upstairs on your couch.

Cicadas sound from outside. Moonlight is your only guide to the shape of your room. You don’t know how long you’ve been trying to go to bed, but it feels like it’s been well over a night already.

There’s a creak from upstairs.

You still.

It’s small, like the shift of someone’s weight. It pauses, then you hear it again. A creak, and a soft groan.

You hurriedly shimmy your pyjamas shorts on, flinging a blanket over your body and turning your back to face the staircases direction. You keep your eyes open, but allow your breaths to fall rhythmically.

You can hear legs shift off of the couch upstairs, feet on hardwood, and then you hear her stand. She steps slowly, like she’s struggling to make her way around.

She pauses by the staircase like she’s thinking. And then she takes a weary step down.

You try to fake sleep as best as possible, but it’s hard knowing she’s walking down the stairs that lead into your basement-bedroom. You can hear the moment she steps foot onto your floor again, and the pause. The weight of her stare, brief but there, on your form in bed.

She turns to the bathroom just nearby. The door whines as it opens, and then shuts with a soft click.

You turn back towards her direction, spying the faint glow of bathroom light through the cracks of the door. Running water from the showerhead fills the house's silence.

You try your best to fall asleep again. It's odd, having another living person in your space again. Back home, the bunks full of girls were suffocating, but you've grown used to sleeping in a quiet home since coming to Jackson. The sound of the shower running throws that off.

Most of all, you don't want to be awake when she comes out. So you screw your eyes shut, turn your back on the door, and try to clear your mind.

And then you remember the only clothes she has are the ones she's been stewing in for the past four days out in the wild. She'll have to get back into those scraps after her shower and attempt to fall asleep again.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly get up from your bed and step over to your closet.

What would Paige want to wear? It's not like you have an abundance of options, and you honestly don't think she could care less. You shake your head, trying not to think so hard about it, and settle for some thin sweat-shorts that are too long on you, and a stained black t-shirt.

After a pause, you wedge some loose men's boxers between the folded clothes. Just in case.

You hold the clothes against you for a moment, listening to the sound of running water behind you. It feels--weird, to say the least. To be here, picking out her clothes as she showers in your bathroom after a night out. Like if things were normal, this is what you'd be doing more often.

The water stops, and the shower curtains pull open behind the bathroom door.

You take a step, quiet aside from the creak beneath your bare feet, and pause in front of the peeling wood. Gingerly, you knock,

"Paige?"

"Oh, shit." She says, voice echoing through the door. "I thought I'd be able to keep you from waking up. My bad."

"It's fine." You tut, choosing not to share the fact that you've been awake all night. "I thought, uhm. That you'd want something to change into. Other than whatever grimy thing you came here in."

She opens the door before you can step back from it, and she opens it wide with no shame. The bathroom is moist. Her hair is darker, wet and slicked back slightly against her shiny skin. She's got an old towel wrapped tight around her, and a slightly embarrassed, tight lipped smile on her face.

"Oh." You flinch, not expecting her to be so close. You hold out the folded clothes. "Uh, here."

Paige looks at you for a moment, up and down, at your worn, wrinkled pyjamas, and the neat stack of clothes. She shifts to hold the towel around her with one hand, and then takes the clothes with the other.

"Thanks." She nods.

"No problem." You say back awkwardly.

She just smiles a little wider, cheeks red as she shakes her head and closes the door.

You try your best not to cringe at yourself, sitting against the edge of your bed feeling completely out of place.

There's some shuffling behind the bathroom door, before the light turns off and the door opens again. Out she comes, black tee fitting a little too perfect, sweat-shorts slightly water stained. She holds her old clothes in a scrunched ball against her chest.

Her hair is a little tousled, towel dried hastily, and slightly wavy against her shoulders. The sleeves of the shirt are a tad bit tight against the curve of her biceps. She looks better. more awake. Less like she smells of blood, more like she smells of the mystery-scented soap you use to bathe.

"So." She raises her brow, noting your long stare. "I'm hungover, but I'm fine. I can...head out."

That snaps you out of it. "Paige." You snort. "Just keep the clothes on the floor somewhere and go to bed."

"That's the thing." She sighs. "I'm awake now. Don't wanna be a bother."

You just get up from your seat on the bed, making your way towards the stairs before turning your head slightly to glance at her. "Just put the clothes down, Paige."

She sets them down gingerly by her feet and follows you wordlessly.

The stairs croak under your feet and hers. You try not to think of her view of you as you scale the steps in front of her, relaxing a little when you reach the living room.

"Do you want something to eat?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"Nah." She mumbles. "Water would be great though."

You nod, quietly filling a chipped glass with tap water and handing it to her, noting the way she eyes your every move. Her fingertips graze yours as she takes the glass from you. You try not to stare as she downs it in one go.

The house is quiet again. She shifts on her feet.

You can't take it suddenly, the quiet, the lack of buzz in your system. Wordlessly, you brush past her and speed downstairs, rummaging through your bedside table drawers and running back up.

"What was that?"

"C'mon." You huff, heading to the front door.

You open it, she steps out warily. The air is thick and humid, but on occaision theres a chilly wind that clears out all the heat. You join her, sitting on the front steps of your porch. She sits down next to you, and you hold out a lighter.

Paige watches as you place a blunt between your lips and lean forward. She stalls--just for a moment--and then flicks the flame on. An orange glow illuminates her face and yours as you wait for the fire to catch, before pulling away and exhaling smoothly.

"Is this what you do when you can't sleep?" She asks.

"No. I usually thug it out. I've been saving this one." You shrug, taking another hit before passing it to her, fingers brushing again.

"For me?" She grins, white teeth bared.

You just look at her. No response.

"Makes sense." She shrugs, lips wrapping around the paper with practiced ease. Her jaw flexes as she inhales and purses her lips on the exhale. Smoke flows from her mouth into the blue night. "I feel like you talk to me easier when you're high."

"It's never easy." You scoff.

"Why?"

"I wish I knew." You mumble honestly. She just looks at you. Not with any distane, no hurt. Just thoughtfulness, the type she decides is better kept to herself.

She passes the blunt back to you. You can feel the mental haze forming already.

"Does it do anything?" You puff. "Running away when it gets hard?"

"I'm not running away." She frowns.

"I'm not judging you." You shoot back. "I'm curious, too."

She thinks for a moment. "It's temporary." Paige nods. "The adrenaline. And the feeling of nobody depending on me. I just need it sometimes. Or else it it's all too much."

You just hum in agreement.

"How's it been?" She asks. "Have you decided to settle n' play with horses all day?"

You pass the joint back to her. "I'll go on patrol." You say.

Paige just blows smoke and smiles. It's lazy, but true. White teeth bared, pink lips pulled up. It makes you shiver.

"Cold?" She grins.

"A little."

"I'm sweating." She hums. "Might be the boxers. They're warm."

You chuckle. "Figured you wouldn't wanna go freebie in those shorts."

"Nah, I like em." She nods, hooking her finger around the waitband of her boxers to show you. The faded band of fabric is peeking over the hem of her sweat-shorts. You let yourself stare.

"You ever worn these?" Paige asks.

"No." You say. "Makes my thighs chafe."

"Shame." Paige hums, but you don't miss how her eyes dart to your bare legs, at the skin that shows as your pj shorts sit high on them.

You watch as she catches herself checking you out, blinking before biting her lip and looking away. She hands the blunt back without a glance.

You feel light as air when you ask, "How come you knew I wasn't happy?"

"Did I?" She plays dumb.

"Didn't you?" Your eyes narrow at her. She holds that gaze with no problem. "Somehow, you knew I wanted more."

"Well, you made it pretty damn clear." Paige scoffs. "You seemed fuckin' miserable. And nobody actually enjoys being on horse duty all day. Brushing and braiding horses isn't a daily job. You were doing jackshit."

"Hey!" You cough, handing the blunt back as you catch your breath. "I did saddles too. Gave everything a top-up."

"Yeah, well." Paige smiles, raising her brows. "Compared to what you used to do, I figured you'd be pretty unfufilled spending the rest of your life in the barn."

"So that's it?" You snort. "You knew because the barn is boring?"

Paige just pauses, looking out to the sky as she brings a hand to her face, rubbing her mouth nervously.

"Oh, there's something else." You scoff. "Seriously, what?"

"Nothing."

"Paige." You say seriously. She half glances at you, bottom lip between her teeth.

"Paige." You drawl again.

She puts out the butt of the joint on the concrete steps.

"It was the time we all smoked in the movie theatre. The first time you hung out with everyone."

"Okay." You nod.

"We were talking about something--something stupid. Like hooking up in risky places or whatever." She continues on. Her ears are turning pink. "Your answer. Just, like. Y'know, kinda made it obvious what kind of life you're used to living."

You swallow, taking in how flustered she is. You feel light as a feather, and ready to poke at that newfound embarrassment she's showing. You decide to play dumb.

"I barely even remember that." You hum solemnly. "What'd I say again?"

"I dunno." She mumbles.

"Sure you do. It striked you enough to offer me patrol." You egg her on.

"Something about an artillery room." Paige breaks, cheeks pink. "On a table with guns. Or something."

"Oh," You sigh, resting your head in your palms. "That. I remember that."

"Anyway." She swallows tersely. "You obviously like adrenaline. I'm the same way."

"Uhuh." You roll your eyes. "Good to know."

She pales. "Didn't mean it like that."

“It’s still true though, isn’t it.” You snort, surprising yourself with the boldness. She seems surprised too, or maybe just flustered overall. She runs a her hand through her damp hair, bicep flexing at the curve of her arm.

“I guess.” She mumbles.

“You guess?”

“S’been a while.” She shrugs, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Hm.” You nod. “I’m surprised.”

She turns to you now, brows furrowed slightly. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” You raise your hands. “Just—y’know. I figured you were…getting around.”

“What made you think that?” She presses, and now it’s your turn to be embarrassed.

“You just give that vibe.” You state. The real reason is because she’s attractive, but you won’t say that.

“Bro.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “Far from it.”

A beat passes. Wind blows a little.

“I’ve only been with one person.” She mutters under her breath.

You still.

“Azzi?” You ask. “The one on some expedition?”

She nods. “We were a thing for a while. Not anymore—I told you that already—but I learnt everything through that relationship. And we were young, so we weren’t really going that crazy.”

“Not fucking on artillery room tables, is what you mean.”

She chokes back a laugh. “Yeah—yeah, that.”

“S’ fair.” You nod, ignoring the pinch in your stomach at the turn of conversation. “Well, you never had to sneak around. Not like I did. It was artillery room, or a bunk full of twenty other girls.”

Paige pauses. She looks at you softly, those piercing blue eyes not nearly as harsh as you recall them to be. “My bad. That’s…not what I meant.”

“I know.” You shrug.

The wind stops. Air turns warm again, makes your skin sticky, the roots of your hair frizzy. Stars twinkle from above.

“When’ll we patrol?” You ask her, struggling to talk through the cotton mouth.

“Whenever you want.” She hums.

Her knee bumps yours on the steps. She hovers close by you as you both rise from the porch and head inside. She slinks back to the couch, you downstairs to your bed.

You sweat like a pig in the house, still warm from being outside with her. You tear off your pyjama shorts, slip under the covers, and close your eyes.

And finally, you fall asleep.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld @hellokittyfeenie @lively-blues @surferandskater

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svt-luna · 9 months ago

Text

𝜗℘ HIM AND I

❛ 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘦. 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, "𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦", 𝘪 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥— 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: In a momentous night filled with cheers, Luna must confront the void of Jeonghan’s absence, finding solace in the echoes of his unwavering support from afar.

wc: 15k

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of anxiety, cursing, pda, flirting, teasing, texting galore, fluff, fluff, fluff, and more tooth-rotting fluff, prepared to be sick of them

surprise!! i simply couldn’t help myself after seeing my baby in the concert yesterday!! this reminded me of a few anon requests i had a few weeks ago (request 1) & (request 2). there are a couple of scenes here as well which were requested by you lovely humans and i decided to do them because of how excited i was. i hope you guys enjoy this even though it’s a little rushed.

also a little fun fact: i accidentally deleted this the second i finished it 💀 thankfully i had saved it in my google docs… almost had a mental breakdown. so please enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears 🤍

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

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Since the very first day they met in that green-colored practice room at PLEDIS, they were like two peas in a pod.

The moment Luna walked in, feeling the weight of both excitement and uncertainty, Jeonghan was the first to approach her. No hesitation, no judgment— just a warm smile and a hand stretched out in welcome.

From that point on, they were inseparable.

Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, and Luna, who had initially been more guarded, found a natural rhythm together. He was her first real friend at PLEDIS, and because of that, Luna quickly became his shadow. She followed him everywhere, always listened to him, and valued his opinion above anyone else’s.

Even before asking the others, it was always Jeonghan’s thoughts that mattered the most to her.

Jeonghan was the first to notice every little shift in her mood. He knew when something was bothering her just by a subtle change in her expression. A slight furrow of her brow, a distant look in her eyes— Jeonghan saw it all.

And it worked both ways.

Luna could read Jeonghan like a book, noticing the moments when he was tired, frustrated, or simply needed a break, even when no one else could tell.

They shared an unspoken understanding, a quiet connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

But it was during Luna’s first monthly evaluation at PLEDIS that their bond solidified into something deeper. The pressure had been mounting ever since she joined. Everyone knew her as the former YG trainee, the one they called ‘The Ace’.

Other trainees whispered about her in the hallways, speculating about her skills, her future, and whether she could live up to the hype. She was terrified, though she would never show it.

Luna stood there, her posture rigid, her expression stoic, but Jeonghan saw right through her.

He knew her mind was running in circles, knew that she was silently carrying the weight of everyone’s expectations.

Right before her turn came up, he pulled her aside, just out of view from the others. Without a word, he placed his forehead gently against hers. Luna’s eyes fluttered closed, and instantly, the world around them began to fade away. It was just the two of them, their breaths slowly falling into sync. She could feel Jeonghan’s steady breathing against her, and with each inhale, her racing heart began to slow.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan whispered softly, his voice calming and sure. “It’s just you and me.”

Luna’s lips parted as she repeated, her eyes still closed, “Just you and me.”

Jeonghan stayed like that for a moment longer, watching her closely, his forehead still pressed against hers. He saw the tension slowly melt from her face, saw her shoulders relax, and he knew she was ready.

He gave her a few seconds to breathe before he finished with one final phrase: “Nothing else.”

And then, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

From that day on, this simple but powerful ritual became their anchor.

Every time Luna faced a challenge— whether it was another monthly evaluation, their first nerve-wracking showcase, their debut stage, or even the countless music show performances that followed— Jeonghan was there.

Always.

Every single time.

And every time, without fail, their routine remained the same.

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, their breathing in sync.

“Breathe. It’s just you and me,” Jeonghan would say.

“Just you and me,” Luna would repeat.

And finally, Jeonghan would whisper, “Nothing else,” before placing that same gentle kiss on her forehead.

It became their unbreakable tradition, a constant in the whirlwind of their careers.

Every fan meeting, every concert, whether they were surrounded by thousands of screaming fans or in the quiet of a backstage room, they found those few moments for each other.

In their little bubble, it was always just them.

No matter how loud the world outside got, no matter the pressure or the expectations, when their foreheads touched and their breaths aligned, everything else faded away.

Nothing else mattered but each other.

Jeonghan and Luna had always found a way to stick to their ritual, no matter the circumstance.

There were times when Jeonghan wasn’t there with her before a performance, like when he had his elbow injury or when needed surgery for his ankle. He had been forced to sit out, recovering on the sidelines, watching as Luna and the rest of the members continued performing without him. And then there were moments when Luna wasn’t there either— laid up in bed, sick, forced to watch her team from a distance as they carried on without her.

Yet, even then, it didn’t matter.

They always found a way to connect, a way to anchor themselves in their shared tradition.

They would message each other, without fail, right before going on stage, sending the same words and phrases that had become their pre-show mantra.

Jeonghan’s simple, reassuring words would flash on her screen: Breathe. It’s just you and me.

And Luna would respond, without hesitation: Just you and me.

Jeonghan would finish with the final, comforting line: Nothing else.

It was never the same as having him physically beside her, but it was enough to ground her, enough to carry her through those moments of loneliness and anxiety.

Now, sitting backstage a few hours before the start of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Right Here’ tour in Goyang, Luna felt the familiar nerves bubbling up. They were kicking things off at the Goyang Stadium, a massive venue filled with excited fans waiting to see them.

But this time, it was different.

This time, Jeonghan wasn’t recovering from an injury.

He wasn’t at home, sick, waiting for the next chance to rejoin them on stage.

This time, Jeonghan was gone for what would feel like an eternity— two long years of military service.

As Luna sat in the makeup chair, her hair being carefully curled and styled, her makeup artist putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner, all she could focus on was the reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

Her face was dolled up, her hair perfectly styled, but none of it seemed to matter. Her eyes kept drifting back to her own reflection, searching for something to latch onto, something to calm the anxious storm brewing inside her chest.

This time, things were really changing.

She had come to terms with it over the last few years— the fact that Jeonghan would be gone and that after him, the rest of the members, aside from the foreign members and Seungcheol, would eventually follow.

The inevitability of it all had weighed on her, but she knew it had to happen.

Luna and Jeonghan had talked about it endlessly in the days leading up to his enlistment, late-night conversations filled with reassurances and reminders that this was something every man in Korea had to face.

Even on the day he left, Jeonghan had made it clear— he didn’t want her to be sad without him. That’s what he’d emphasized most. “Smile for me, yeah? You can cry, baby, but don’t spend the next two years crying about it. I’ll still be here. You’ll still see me.” he had said, a teasing grin on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But Luna knew better.

She knew how much he hated the thought of leaving her, even if he didn’t say it outright.

She was trying— really.

Really trying to see the bright side.

After all, Jeonghan hadn’t enlisted as a regular soldier. Because of his injury, he would be serving as a social worker instead, meaning he wouldn’t be stuck in the grueling life of a combat soldier. But even so, he still had to complete basic training.

He still had to endure those few weeks of separation. Almost two weeks had passed since and it was slowly driving Luna mad.

The last few months had been an emotional whirlwind, a rollercoaster she was still trying to process.

From headlining at Lollapalooza in Berlin to Jeonghan proposing to her the day before the festival, to their last date just days before his enlistment, and then, of course, being caught by the media.

Their five-year relationship and engagement were splashed across the headlines, their private lives exposed for all to see. The mixed reactions from fans and the public alike were something Luna had expected, but it was still exhausting.

And then, Jeonghan had left.

Just like that.

Officially inactive for two years— the two weeks of basic training already felt like an eternity.

And now, here she was, on the first day of their tour, her emotions on overdrive. The excitement of being on stage again, mixed with the crushing weight of Jeonghan’s absence, made her heart feel like it was caught in a tug-of-war.

She needed him here with her.

She needed his warmth, his comfort, his stupid little quips that always managed to pull a smile out of her, no matter how stressed she was.

As the team continued curling her hair, adjusting the strands to perfection, and applying the final touches to her makeup, Luna closed her eyes, trying to block out the bustling chaos of the dressing room. She could hear the other members around her, each one doing their own pre-show rituals. Some were talking and laughing, others were getting changed, or sitting in the makeup chairs.

It was the usual energy before a concert. But all Luna could hear were her thoughts, the mantra she and Jeonghan had shared for years repeating over and over in her mind.

Breathe. It’s just you and me.

The words echoed in her head as she tried to steady her breathing, to keep herself from spiraling into the anxious pit that had been creeping up on her ever since Jeonghan left.

Just you and me.

She whispered the words to herself, a quiet promise that, no matter how far away he was, he was still with her.

Nothing else.

Luna didn’t even realize her fingers had been fiddling with her rings— a telltale sign of her anxiety. She often did it without thinking, twisting and turning the metal bands around her fingers whenever her nerves got the better of her.

But now, the new addition on her left hand, the oval-shaped diamond engagement ring, caught her eye. Its sparkle under the dressing room lights felt like a beacon, drawing her attention to the very thing that had been on her mind all morning.

Her heart clenched, and for a moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

Seeing the ring, a symbol of her future with Jeonghan, only made her miss him more. But she fought it back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

Not today, she reminded herself. Today is a happy day. It’s the opening day of their world tour.

There was no need for tears— at least, not today.

She had promised Jeonghan she wouldn’t cry about it anymore, not about him leaving, not about the empty space beside her.

She was doing this for him, too.

Those thoughts began to ebb away, only to be replaced by a new wave of anxiety.

This would be her first time on stage since the confirmation of their relationship and engagement, and now, more than ever, she wished Jeonghan were there to face it with her. She always looked to him in these moments when the weight of the public eye felt like too much to bear.

But now, he wasn’t here, and the thought of going out there alone made her heartbeat quicken.

Anxiety slithered its way back into her chest, tightening its grip around her lungs.

I hate my mind sometimes, she thought bitterly, her fingers twisting the engagement ring as she tried to steady her breathing.

Luna wanted to be calm, to focus on the excitement of the concert, but her mind kept drifting back to all the pressure, and all the expectations.

She tried to push the thoughts away, inhaling deeply to force her heart to slow down.

Then, a sudden ding broke through the fog of her thoughts.

Her phone, resting on her lap, vibrated softly, bringing her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at the screen, blinking a few times to adjust.

Her lock screen— a photo of Jeonghan from their trip to Paris last year— made her heart skip a beat. He was posing in that carefree way only he could, the Parisian architecture stood in the background.

The memory brought a small smile to her face, but her heart skipped another beat entirely when she saw the name of the person who had just messaged her.

‘my angel boy🪽’

It was Jeonghan.

Luna almost burst into tears at the sight. Her fingers fumbled to unlock the phone as she hurriedly opened the message, heart pounding in her chest.

One word stared back at her:

Luna could’ve cried right then and there, overwhelmed by how perfectly Jeonghan knew her.

Even when he wasn’t physically there next to her, even when they hadn’t spoken in nearly two weeks, he still knew exactly what she needed to hear.

She didn’t know how she got so lucky, how she had found someone so attuned to her, so aware of her emotions.

How did I get so lucky? she thought, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. How am I this blessed to have him?

Her fingers moved quickly across the screen as she typed, a sense of urgency settling in her chest.

She needed reassurance, despite the fact that it was literally his number. She knew it was him, but a part of her needed to hear him say it again, needed to know he was still there with her in some small way.

The reply came almost immediately as if he knew she’d be waiting, breath held.

Luna’s chest tightened at the words, her heart swelling and her throat constricting. If it weren’t for the fact that her makeup artist was just finishing up her eye makeup, she probably would have let the tears spill over. But she blinked them back, biting down on her lip to keep herself steady.

Luna let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since she’d sat down in the makeup chair.

She was so thankful for him, so unbelievably grateful that no matter what, Jeonghan always found a way to be there for her. Even in the middle of his military service, he had still managed to send her exactly what she needed.

He always found a way for her.

And then, a thought entered her mind— one she didn’t want to entertain, but couldn’t help. She wished it were true, wished more than anything that he was here with her, physically present.

Her fingers moved on their own as she typed the words she was afraid to ask but desperately wanted to hear.

The seconds ticked by slowly, agonizingly, as she waited for his reply. Her heart pounded in her chest, hope mingling with dread, until finally, his answer came through:

For a moment, Luna’s heart nearly stopped.

Jeonghan was here.

He was really here.

The overwhelming urge to jump out of her chair and run through the stadium to find him flooded her senses.

She wanted nothing more than to see him, to feel his arms around her, to know that he was there in the audience watching her, supporting her as he always had.

Luna stared at the screen, her heart racing and her fingers trembling slightly over the phone as she typed back to Jeonghan. The soft warmth of his words lingered in her chest like a quiet flame, steadying the swirl of emotions that had been consuming her moments before.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and soft, comforting her through the miles that stretched between them in her heart, despite knowing he was right there in the audience.

Her lips curled into a smile as her fingers hovered above the keyboard, their playful banter still vivid in her mind.

Her gaze drifted from the phone for a moment, taking in the organized chaos of the dressing room around her. The makeup artists and staff were in their usual whirlwind, preparing for the show, but Luna’s world had narrowed down to that little device in her hands and the man on the other side of the screen.

Luna could practically feel his presence in those words— steady, reassuring like he was holding her hand through the screen.

As the conversation came to a close, Luna found herself taking a deep breath.

The anxiety that had been gnawing at her seemed to ease as Jeonghan’s words echoed in her mind. He had this way of grounding her, making everything seem a little less daunting.

With her heart still pounding but in a much softer rhythm now, she tucked her phone away, letting out a small exhale.

The moment was tender and fleeting, but it was enough. Enough to remind her of why she was here, why she was standing on the precipice of something so grand, and why she wouldn’t let her fears hold her back today.

Because, as Jeonghan had said, it was just them— just Luna and him in this moment, no matter the crowd, no matter the circumstances.

Her gaze returned to the mirror, catching the reflection of the sparkling ring on her finger.

That simple band now held so much meaning.

It wasn’t just a promise of forever; it was a reminder that no matter where life took them, Jeonghan would always find a way to be by her side.

Luna released a long, steady breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she centered herself. She was still buzzing with excitement from the conversation with Jeonghan, her heart racing faster than it had any right to.

But now it was time to focus.

There was a show to do.

Opening night.

Slowly, she stood up from the makeup chair, her muscles loosening as the tension from the past few minutes ebbed away.

Her stylist, Jiwoo, called out her name just as Luna was about to head to her dressing room.

“Jiyeon-ah! Here’s your opening outfit.”

Jiwoo came toward her with the ensemble, a stunning black and white stage outfit designed to captivate under the lights. Luna’s fingers gently brushed against the fabric as Jiwoo handed it to her. The shimmering accents practically glowed under the dressing room lights.

“Wow,” Luna breathed out, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Why does it look better now than during the first dress rehearsal? It’s amazing.”

“Only the best for ou stars,” Jiwoo replied with a wink, smiling as she stepped back to admire the outfit Luna was clutching to her chest.

Luna felt a surge of warmth at her stylist’s words. She thanked her quietly before heading off, her mind now completely absorbed in the rhythm of preparation.

She was halfway down the room when she noticed Seungcheol, already dressed in his own stage outfit, leaning casually against the wall, eyes glued to his phone. His head was bobbing slightly to the beat of the music playing in the background, courtesy of Vernon, who had a playlist going to pump everyone up.

A mischievous smile formed on Luna’s lips as she quickened her pace and approached him. Without warning, she lightly punched him in the arm, enough to startle him but far from anything painful.

Seungcheol blinked in surprise, his eyes lifting from his phone to meet hers. “What was that for?” he asked, not angry at all but pouting back at her in mock offense. His expression was so comically disbelieving that it made Luna’s grin widen.

Luna gave him a playful pout of her own, leaning in slightly as she clutched the outfit closer to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an underlying warmth.

Her heart still fluttered at the thought of Jeonghan surprising her.

The realization dawned on Seungcheol, and his eyes widened slightly before nodded his head in understanding. “So, he told you already, huh?” He crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in mock scolding, looking down at her like a parent about to lecture their child. “Did he also tell you that he told us not to tell you?” His eyebrow raised as if challenging her, though the soft smile on his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

Luna almost burst out laughing at the way Seungcheol worded his sentence. He really could be so serious sometimes. Still, her pout remained as she nodded in confirmation.

Seungcheol sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Then why did you punch me?”

Luna couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, her expression softening as she looked up at him. “Because I’m happy, Cheollie,” she replied, her voice almost childlike in its honesty.

The simplicity of the statement, combined with the sincerity behind it, made the moment feel lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Seungcheol’s expression softened too. His stern act melted away as he looked at her, the leader in him always understanding, always protective. “Well, I’m happy that you’re happy,” he said, his tone gentle, filled with affection for his longtime friend.

Luna hummed in grateful acknowledgment, her chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

If she was fire, Seungcheol’s words had been gasoline, igniting her spirit even further.

She felt more energized than ever, more ready to step onto that stage and give her all.

Without thinking, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on Seungcheol’s cheek. The surprised look on his face made her giggle.

Then, with a renewed sense of excitement, she skipped— yes, literally skipped— down the hallway toward the changing room, her laughter echoing softly as she disappeared around the corner.

The members of SEVENTEEN could feel the shift in the atmosphere almost immediately.

Luna’s energy was palpable, radiating from her as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

For weeks now, they had watched her bury herself in work, her usual brightness dimmed by the heavy absence of Jeonghan. Ever since he left for his enlistment, it was as though Luna had lost a piece of herself. She had kept her head down, moving from one task to the next with little time to breathe in between.

Photoshoots, solo events, rehearsals, preparation for this concert —she threw herself into it all.

Even during Fashion Week, where she shone as brightly as any model on the runway, the members knew it wasn’t quite the same. They could see it in the way her smile never quite reached her eyes, how she lingered a little too long in the practice room after hours, working through the choreography over and over as if hoping the physical exhaustion would drown out the emotional strain.

But no matter how much work she piled on, it didn’t fill the void left by Jeonghan.

It wasn’t just her who felt it.

The rest of the group could sense his absence as keenly as she did.

Jeonghan was like the glue that held them all together, always there with a teasing smile or a comforting word, and without him, something essential was missing. It didn’t help that Jun wasn’t around either, caught up in his own projects back in China.

Two out of fourteen of their pillars were gone, and though the group was as close-knit as ever, the hole they left behind was impossible to ignore.

But tonight, as Luna skipped down the hallway, her lightness and joy infecting the air around her, the difference was startling. It was as if the dark cloud that had been hovering over her for weeks had finally broken, letting the sun shine through again.

And everyone noticed.

Seungkwan, who had been warming up his voice nearby, exchanged a glance with Dokyeom, who grinned knowingly. “She’s definitely in a better mood,” Seungkwan murmured, his eyes following Luna as she disappeared around the corner.

“Thank Jeonghan hyung for that,” Dokyeom chuckled softly.

The rest of the members murmured their agreement. They knew how close Luna and Jeonghan were; they had been witnesses to the growth of their relationship, from quiet glances and hidden smiles to the deep bond they shared now.

Watching Luna struggle these past few weeks had been hard on all of them, especially since there was little they could do to ease the ache of missing someone so important.

But tonight, with Jeonghan’s surprise appearance, it was as if a piece of her heart had been restored. Luna practically floated through the corridors, her excitement contagious. The members couldn’t help but feel a surge of their own happiness, relieved that at least for now, Luna’s spirit had been lifted.

They were grateful to Jeonghan for pulling her out of the fog she had been in, if only for a little while.

The concert looming ahead was significant for all of them— opening night for their ‘Right Here’ world tour. A twelve-member performance instead of their usual fourteen. It felt incomplete, yet seeing Luna smiling again was a balm for their own worries.

They might not be able to share the stage with Jeonghan and Jun tonight, but they would carry the spirit of their absent brothers with them.

And for now, it was enough.

The air in the backstage room buzzed with an electric tension, the kind that always hung in the moments before a show.

Luna could feel her heart racing in her chest as she stood in the familiar circle with the rest of SEVENTEEN, their hands together in front of them as they leaned in close. This huddle had become their tradition, a quiet moment of unity before they stepped onto the stage.

It was their anchor, the reminder that no matter how many people screamed their names or how many bright lights shone on them, at the core, it was still the fourteen of them— or in this case, twelve.

Seungcheol, their leader, always took the opportunity to speak in these moments. His voice was calm, but there was a fire beneath it, a quiet strength that reassured all of them. “Let’s give everything we’ve got out there,” he said, his eyes sweeping over the circle, locking briefly on each of them. “Opening night of our world tour, let’s give them a show. For Jeonghan and Jun.”

There was a pause as the weight of his words hung in the air— Jeonghan and Jun.

Their absence was a wound they all felt deeply, but tonight wasn’t about sadness. It was about showing the world their strength, even if incomplete. And for Luna, it was about showing Jeonghan how proud she was, knowing he was somewhere out there watching.

With a deep breath, they all chanted their group cheer, voices blending into one. The sound reverberated through the room, filling Luna’s chest with warmth and grounding her. As the cheer faded, they broke apart, nodding to each other with a shared understanding.

This was it.

Luna’s heart thudded in her chest as she took her position on the platform behind the massive LED screen with the rest of the members. Her palms were slightly sweaty, and she wiped them discreetly against the fabric of her stage outfit.

The seconds ticked by slowly, anticipation building in the air like a coiled spring. She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath to center herself, repeating the mantra that always ran through her mind before the lights hit her face. She exhaled slowly, feeling the jittery energy settle into something more controlled, more focused.

When her eyes opened again, it was just in time to see the LED screen in front of them begin to part.

The roaring of the crowd outside, though slightly muffled by her in-ear monitor, was deafening. It was like standing at the edge of a storm, the rumble of thousands of voices merging into one wild, electric sound.

The adrenaline that rushed through her veins was immediate, like a shock to her system, awakening every nerve in her body. Luna could feel it pumping in time with the beat of the song, ‘Fear,’ which began to pulse through her ears.

As the screen fully opened, revealing the stage in all its glory. The noise of the crowd swelled even louder, crashing into them like a tidal wave, but the music in her in-ear monitor kept her grounded. She felt the thrum of the bass vibrate through her body, each beat synchronizing with her racing heart.

From the very first note of ‘Fear,’ Luna was on. Her movements were sharp, and precise, every step of the choreography drilled into her muscles through hours of practice.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins made everything feel sharper, more intense— the rush of the performance intoxicating. She was alive in a way that nothing else in the world could make her feel. Every sway of her hips, every lift of her arm, and every spin was executed with flawless precision. The music was in her bones, and the choreography felt like second nature, her body flowing effortlessly from one move to the next.

Luna’s eyes found the cameras, her expression shifting into the sultry, fierce gaze she knew the fans loved. Each camera angle was met with purpose— a glance, a smirk, a fleeting look that would send their fans into a frenzy. She could feel their energy, their excitement feeding into her own, and it made her perform even harder, even better.

The members around her were just as immersed in the performance. They moved as one, the choreography flawless, their presence commanding.

They were SEVENTEEN, a unit, even when parts of them were miles away.

As ‘Fear’ bled into ‘Fearless,’ the energy only amplified. The transitions were seamless, Luna’s voice strong and clear as she hit each note with power. Her voice was steady through her in-ear monitor, and she felt the music vibrate through every fiber of her being.

She lived for this— the lights, the stage, the connection with the audience. There was nothing quite like the feeling of performing, the way the adrenaline and music melded together into one euphoric experience.

With every song, every movement, the crowd grew louder, their energy mixing with her own. She craved it, thrived on it. It fueled her, pushing her to give more, to hit each move harder, to sing with more passion.

By the time ‘Maestro’ started, the third song in their opening set, Luna was fully in the zone. Her body moved on pure muscle memory, her vocals strong as they rang through the arena. She nailed every single move, every single note.

And through it all, she couldn’t help but give a little more, and perform with just a bit more intensity. Because tonight wasn’t just for her.

Tonight, she knew Jeonghan was watching. He was out there somewhere in the sea of fans, his eyes on her, and that knowledge made her push herself to give a hundred and one percent.

This is for you, she thought, her heart swelling with pride and love.

Every move, every note— it’s for you.

As the third song, ‘Maestro,’ came to an electrifying end, Luna and the rest of the members made their way to the front of the stage. The adrenaline still coursing through her veins was a heady mixture of euphoria and exhilaration. She could feel the sweat cooling on her skin beneath the stage lights, the pounding in her chest mirroring the thrumming energy of the arena.

The fans were screaming louder than ever, their voices a roaring tidal wave that seemed to rise and crash over the stage, swallowing the entire stadium in a sea of sound.

The members, still catching their breath from the performance, began to line up. Each of them took turns stepping forward for the opening ment, one after another, introducing themselves as a team and sharing their thoughts with the audience.

Luna stood among them, her eyes sweeping across the ocean of Carats before her. The crowd was vast— thousands of faces, all illuminated by lightsticks glowing in the stadium. It was a breathtaking sight, a reminder of just how far they’d come together.

As the other members took turns speaking, Luna allowed herself a small smile. She could feel the weight of the moment, how special it was to open this tour in Goyang. But there was something more than just excitement for the concert tonight— there was a warmth blooming in her chest, something that had taken root the moment she found out Jeonghan was somewhere in attendance watching.

For the first time in weeks, the emptiness she’d been carrying around wasn’t so heavy anymore.

Her gaze flicked back to the crowd as she waited for her turn to speak, her smile softening as she took it all in. The fans, some waving banners with her name, others dressed in shirts with her image printed on them, were giving all their energy back to her.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. These were the people who had supported her from the beginning, who had stood by her side through every high and low, and tonight was as much for them as it was for her and the members.

But before Luna could fully lose herself in her thoughts, the sound of the fans’ screams hit her ears, sharper and louder than before.

Startled, she blinked and realized her face had just been projected onto the enormous LED screen behind them. Her in-ear monitor had been removed earlier, so she heard the screams in all their full, raw intensity. It echoed through the arena, sending a surge of energy back into her, and she felt a slight flutter of amusement as she noticed the reaction of the crowd.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this reaction— the mixture of screams and disbelief. She was used to it by now, especially when her face appeared on the big screen, the high-definition clarity often making her look almost surreal as if she had been computer-generated. She had heard the fans joke about it countless times, calling her “too perfect” or “CGI” whenever she appeared like this.

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyes locking with the camera directly in front of her, playing into the reaction. The screams grew even louder as the fans realized she was looking straight at them, her expression one of playful mischief.

She lifted her mic to her mouth, ready to speak, but before she could even get a word out, another wave of deafening screams erupted, cutting her off completely.

At first, she wasn’t entirely sure why— until her eyes caught the glint of light reflecting off her left hand.

Her engagement ring, the huge diamond glittering under the stage lights, was now visible to everyone as she used that hand to hold up the mic.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, understanding immediately. Of course, they would react to that. This was the first time anyone had properly seen her wear the ring in public since the engagement news broke, and it was impossible to miss.

She waited patiently for the noise to die down, though her amusement was evident in the small laugh that escaped her lips. She raised her right hand slightly, signaling for the crowd to calm down. “Shh…” she hushed them playfully, the warmth of her tone making it impossible for the fans not to fall in love with her all over again. The stadium quieted, but just barely, the energy still crackling in the air.

“Hi, Carats!” Luna greeted brightly, her voice amplified through the speakers, instantly met with another round of enthusiastic cheers. Her smile widened as she continued, her heart swelling at the overwhelming response. “It’s your Luna.” She paused, letting the cheers wash over her again, feeling the adrenaline kick back into her veins.

“I’m so excited to be here with all of you tonight,” she continued her tone a mix of sincerity and excitement. Her eyes scanned the crowd again, drinking in the sight of all the fans who had come out to support them. “Opening the world tour in Goyang… It feels surreal.” She smiled, the sentiment clear in her voice. The fans responded with more cheers, their excitement palpable.

“I’ve missed you guys so much, and I’m so ready to make this an unforgettable night. Are you ready?”

The stadium erupted once more in response, and Luna’s heart soared. She knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be a night they would all remember for the rest of their lives.

Luna was just about to continue her ment, feeling the excitement of the crowd and the energy radiating from every corner of the arena, when the screams around her suddenly surged to a deafening level.

It was so loud that it sent a jolt through her, the vibration of thousands of voices hitting her like a wave. She blinked, momentarily stunned by the intensity, her lips parting in confusion as she glanced around.

“Why?” she mouthed silently, furrowing her brows as she looked down at the pit directly in front of the stage.

Her eyes scanned the faces of the fans closest to her, searching for any sign of what could be causing the commotion. But all she could see were the fans pointing wildly behind her, their faces alight with excitement and disbelief.

Before Luna could fully process what was happening, the members’ shouts reached her ears.

“Jeonghan-ah!” Seungcheol exclaimed, followed by Seungkwan and Dokyeom who chorused, “Jeonghan hyung!”

“Hyung!” echoed through the speakers, their voices overlapping in a mixture of excitement and joy.

Luna’s heart skipped a beat.

She turned so fast that her hair fanned out behind her, whipping around in the rush. Her eyes immediately flew to the massive LED screen behind her, and there, on the other side of the screen— clear as day— was Jeonghan.

Her Jeonghan.

He was sitting in the VIP box, slightly off to the side, his phone raised in front of him.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat when she realized what he was doing— he had been filming her. From the moment her ment started, Jeonghan had been recording, and even now, his phone was still pointed at her, capturing every second of her on the big screen for all to see.

A huge smile broke out across Luna’s face, uncontrollable and radiant. Her heart swelled, a mix of affection and disbelief flooding her chest.

Despite the face mask covering the lower half of his face, there was no mistaking it— it was him.

His presence was unmistakable, and the way he waved at the camera, greeting the fans with that familiar charm, made it all the more real.

The entire arena seemed to vibrate with excitement as Luna felt her emotions catch up with her. She could barely tear her eyes away from the screen, but when she did, her gaze found him in real life. Her eyes locked onto him, sitting in the VIP box at the top of the stadium, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

It may sound cliché but she fell in love all over again.

His simple, unwavering presence— here, in the middle of everything— was enough to make her heart race, and the love she felt for him deepened, filling every corner of her being.

Luna brought the mic to her lips, a laugh bubbling up in her throat as she shook her head. Without thinking, she playfully yelled, “Ya! Yoon Jeonghan!” Her voice came out as a half-whine, half-scream, making the members around her burst into laughter.

The fans, already whipped into a frenzy, screamed even louder at her words, the energy reaching a fever pitch. Luna grinned, unable to help herself, her laughter mixing with the cheers. The other members joined in, their amusement clear as they teased her.

“I miss you,” Luna added, her voice soft but clear over the speakers.

And that was it— absolute pandemonium.

The stadium exploded, the screams of the fans echoing through every corner of the arena, drowning out everything else. Luna couldn’t help but laugh again, the sheer magnitude of the moment hitting her all at once.

But it didn’t stop there.

Jeonghan, ever the showman, lifted his phone higher for everyone to see. The camera zoomed in on the LED screen, and the crowd collectively gasped.

Displayed on Jeonghan’s lock screen was a picture of Luna. Not just any picture— one from a date they had taken in Japan a few years ago, one of their private moments now shared with thousands.

The arena went absolutely insane, the noise level so high it almost shook the stage beneath their feet.

Luna’s face flushed bright red, her hand flying to her mouth in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment. She turned around quickly, facing the back of the stage, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The members around her were jumping up and down, laughing so hard they were barely standing still, their teasing relentless.

“Oh my god, Jeonghan hyung is such a romantic!”Seungkwan shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is that from your date?” Joshua teased, nudging Luna playfully.

“Jiyeonie noona is blushing!” Dino called out as he pointed at her making the others laugh even harder.

Luna turned back around, her face still flushed as she dared to peek at the big screen again. Jeonghan was still there, but now he was pointing at the picture on his phone, then at himself, and then he dramatically pointed at his cheek, a playful demand for a kiss.

The crowd went wild, the screams reaching an ear-piercing level as fans caught on to what he was asking for.

“I think he is asking for a kiss,” Seungkwan exclaimed, laughing.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, her heart racing with a mix of affection and embarrassment. She brought the mic up to her lips, still smiling as she faced Jeonghan’s side at the VIP box. “Alright, alright,” she said playfully, her voice ringing through the stadium.

Then, with exaggerated flair, she blew him a flying kiss, her hand gracefully sending it his way.

The moment her hand dropped, Jeonghan dramatically threw himself back into his seat, clutching his chest as if he had been struck by her kiss.

His playful reaction made the fans go even crazier, and the members around Luna erupted into laughter once again, their teasing and joy filling the stage.

“Look at him, he’s down!” Dokyeom shouted, pretending to fall over in mock imitation of Jeonghan.

“That’s it, he’s been hit!” Hoshi added, cackling.

Luna’s laughter was loud and genuine, her heart full to the brim as she watched Jeonghan’s antics. The fans, the members, and even she herself couldn’t stop laughing.

It was chaos, pure and beautiful chaos, the kind that made nights like these unforgettable.

After the playful chaos with Jeonghan finally settled, the rest of the members resumed their opening ments, their laughter slowly giving way to more composed introductions and heartfelt words for the audience.

Luna, still feeling the lingering warmth from Jeonghan’s surprise, smiled softly to herself as each member took turns speaking. The energy from the fans was infectious, their excitement palpable in the air, and Luna could feel it vibrating through her body as she stood there.

Her heart was full, and despite the adrenaline still pulsing in her veins, a sense of peace settled over her.

As the ments drew to a close, the lights dimmed once more, and the show continued. The familiar rhythm of concert life took over, and the intense but thrilling rush of performing for thousands blended with the organized chaos behind the scenes.

Luna, along with the rest of the members, darted backstage after each set, the heavy weight of sweat-soaked outfits quickly replaced with fresh, intricately designed costumes for the next round of performances. Staff swarmed them, deft hands touching up makeup, fixing stray hairs, and ensuring every detail was perfect for the next stage.

The transitions were fast and seamless, but it was a routine they all knew well. Even though their hearts were pounding from the intensity of the performances, there was an unspoken synchronization between them and the crew that made everything flow smoothly.

Hairdressers would gently direct Luna into place, powdering her face or dabbing at her forehead to control the sweat, while stylists adjusted her new outfit with quick but precise movements, pulling at seams, fastening zippers, and checking accessories.

All of it was part of the dance behind the curtain— a carefully orchestrated chaos that Luna thrived in.

She barely had time to think as they moved from one stage to the next, the brief moments of calm between sets filled with the hurried energy of preparation.

And yet, amidst the rush, Luna found small pockets of time to catch her breath. When there was a moment— perhaps while waiting for the final adjustments to her outfit, or in the seconds before they rushed back onstage— she would glance at her phone.

Jeonghan, ever the dork, had been texting her nonstop from his seat in the VIP box, live-commentating as though he weren’t right there watching the whole thing in person.

His messages were ridiculous but endearing, a constant stream of compliments and observations that made her smile even when she was exhausted.

Between texts about how she nailed a particular move or how amazing she looked in her current outfit, Luna found herself laughing under her breath. Jeonghan’s enthusiasm for her performances, even though he had seen her on stage countless times, never seemed to wane.

His words, no matter how silly or over-the-top, made her feel seen and calm— like she was the only person in the room, even though there were thousands watching her.

As the show progressed, Luna slipped into the rhythm of it all. Each costume change, each song, each interaction with the fans— it all blurred into a heady mixture of excitement, adrenaline, and joy.

But through it all, there was Jeonghan, his presence like a tether grounding her, even from afar. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she wasn’t looking in his direction. And whenever she had a spare moment to breathe backstage, she’d quickly type back a teasing reply, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words.

It was like any other concert in some ways— the fast pace, the never-ending flow of energy— but at the same time, it was different.

There was a lightness in her heart she hadn’t felt since Jeonghan left for his enlistment. His presence here, even just in the audience, brought her comfort in a way that made this concert feel special, as if this night was theirs alone, even in front of thousands.

As the concert reached its halfway mark, the energy in the arena surged once more as the opening notes of ‘Good to Me’ filled the space. The pulsating beat and rhythmic synths set the mood for the song, its sensual yet intense tone capturing the attention of everyone in the stadium.

Luna felt a thrill run through her as she got into position, preparing for her part. This song held a special significance tonight, more so than it ever had before.

This song in particular is about desire, about someone craving the presence and touch of someone else who is always good to them— both emotionally and physically. The lyrics were bold and full of passion, and every time they performed it, it felt like they were laying bare their emotions for all to see.

But tonight, for Luna, those lyrics held an even deeper meaning.

As the first verse unfolded, the members took turns with their lines, their movements synchronized and sharp, every gesture purposeful. The choreography was fluid, with a mix of subtle sensuality and power, perfectly matching the song’s intensity. When it was Luna’s turn to sing, her voice cut through the air, clear and confident.

“‘Cause you, you're my everything, we are a match. Cause you, you're my everyday, you also know it.’”

Her eyes drifted toward the VIP section, where she knew Jeonghan was watching. She sang the lyrics as if they were meant for him and him alone. Her gaze locked on the spot where he sat, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she poured every bit of emotion into the words.

“‘I need you, you need me. Cause you, you already know, everything is you, you.’”

The song spoke of someone whose presence was irresistible, someone who made everything feel right, even when things were difficult. And right now, Luna couldn’t help but direct those words to Jeonghan, who had been her rock, her constant source of support, even though he wasn’t physically by her side these days.

When Jeonghan’s usual part in the song came up, a brief instrumental break building the anticipation, Luna seamlessly took over his lines, her voice rich with emotion as she sang in his place.

“‘You did this once before, only by looking at your eyes I can tell, whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion.’”

She turned fully to where Jeonghan sat, her eyes sparkling under the stage lights as she sang to him, her voice softening slightly as though the thousands of fans didn’t exist at that moment.

It was just her and him.

She could feel the weight of her emotions bubbling up as she sang to him, every word wrapped in the longing she had felt since he left for his enlistment.

The lyrics— about someone being so good to her, about how everything about that person was perfect— took on a whole new meaning now.

It wasn’t just a song anymore; it was her heart speaking to Jeonghan.

As the chorus hit again, the music swelled, and Luna moved back into the choreography, her body syncing with the rest of the members as they danced with precision and grace. The lights flashed in rhythm, and she could hear the deafening screams of the fans, though the sound was muffled by her in-ear monitors. The energy was electric, but amidst the chaos, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, Jeonghan’s face appeared on the massive LED screen behind them, catching both Luna and the other members off guard. The audience roared in response, the sudden sight of him sending a wave of excitement through the arena.

He was watching Luna with that familiar, soft smile in his eyes, his phone held up to capture the moment as if he couldn’t get enough of watching her perform.

Luna’s breath hitched for a split second, but then a smile broke across her face. She couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to sing, her movements a bit more playful now as she pointed toward the screen where Jeonghan’s face loomed above them all. The rest of the members joined in on the fun, laughing and teasing her as they danced and sang around her, clearly enjoying the moment as much as the fans were.

The fans, who were already losing their minds, screamed even louder when they realized Jeonghan was watching his fiancée with such open admiration. Luna playfully rolled her eyes, her heart swelling as she continued to sing and dance, now with a renewed sense of joy.

For a few seconds, it felt like everything in the world was perfect. Jeonghan, despite not being on stage, was still a part of the performance in his own way, and the fact that Luna had been dedicating this song to him all along made it even sweeter. She twirled with the rhythm, her body moving effortlessly through the steps as she threw a playful glance at where Jeonghan sat.

And for that brief moment, as she danced and sang her heart out, Luna felt like the distance between them was nothing. It was as if he were right there with her on stage, sharing the spotlight.

As the final notes of ‘Good to Me’ faded out, Luna couldn’t help but glance once more toward the VIP section, her heart fluttering as she thought of him watching her.

The lights dimmed on stage as the last notes of their set echoed throughout the arena. With a collective breath, the members hurried off the stage, rushing toward the backstage area in their usual post-performance frenzy.

It was the familiar chaos of concerts: stylists, makeup artists, and hair stylists all buzzing around, ready to get them prepped for the next set. Luna felt the residual adrenaline in her veins, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. The fan in front of her chair whirred softly, its cool breeze hitting her flushed face as she sipped from her water bottle.

Her body was still buzzing with energy from their performance, her skin damp from sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her temples. She sat in front of the mirror in her chair, eyes half-closed, her hands limp at her sides as multiple people fussed over her.

One person gently dabbed at her face with a sponge, touching up her makeup, while another tugged at her hair, fixing strands that had come loose during their vigorous dancing. Luna sat still, letting them work, only opening her eyes every now and then to check her reflection, making sure everything was back in place.

Her breathing was finally starting to slow down, the pounding of her heart calming after the rush of the performance. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the vanity in front of her, watching the reflection of her teammates in the mirrors around her as they too got their touch-ups.

The room was alive with activity, the noise of the concert still a faint echo from the stage outside.

But just as she was gathering herself for the next half of the show, a few crew members came in, a noticeable tension in their steps. Luna straightened slightly in her seat as one of them approached Seungcheol, the leader, with a serious expression.

“There’s been a small fire on stage,” the crew member announced, causing the entire room to fall silent. Luna’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening in shock as she quickly glanced at the other members.

Everyone froze for a second, processing what they had just heard.

A fire?

Before any of them could react, the crew member quickly continued, raising his hands to reassure them. “It’s nothing major! Just a light fixture caught fire, but the staff is already handling it.”

Relief washed over the room, but the air still felt tense. Questions were thrown around in rapid succession, the members’ voices overlapping as they expressed their concerns.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Is everything under control?”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Can we still continue the show?”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

Seungcheol, ever the responsible leader, was busy talking to the staff, his voice low but firm as he tried to get more details.

Luna, though still a little shaken by the news, stood up from her chair, adjusting her sleeves as she walked over to where the rest of the members were gathered. Her concern mirrored theirs, but the crew assured them that the situation was being managed.

“We’ll need to delay the show for a few minutes while we make sure everything is safe before you can continue,” another crew member explained, and Luna could feel the unease in the room settle somewhat.

The staff’s confidence was reassuring, but the worry for the fans still lingered.

Luna stood near the center of the group, her fingers absentmindedly fixing the cuffs of her outfit as they all discussed the situation. “As long as everyone is fine and no one is hurt–” she began, her voice steady despite the worry she felt.

But before she could finish her sentence, something felt… off.

The room grew a little quieter, and she noticed some of the members stifling laughter. Seungkwan was biting his lip, trying not to give anything away, while Minghao’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he watched something— or someone— behind her.

Confused, Luna paused, looking down at her sleeves as she fiddled with the fabric. She didn’t notice the figure that had quietly slipped into the room behind her, moving with the practiced stealth that only one person could pull off.

Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from beside her, its gentle tone making her heart skip a beat, though she was so used to it, that she didn’t even question it at first.

“Everyone is fine,” the voice said smoothly, almost casually. “The staff are handling it.”

Without even glancing up, Luna nodded, completely absentminded. “That’s good,” she murmured, still focused on adjusting her outfit.

The members erupted into laughter from in front of her, and that’s when it hit her.

Wait… that voice.

Her hands froze mid-adjustment. Slowly, Luna’s eyes widened, and she turned her head to the side, not fully registering what had just happened. But when she finally looked to her left and saw who was standing next to her, she did a double take, her breath catching in her throat.

“Hannie?!”

Jeonghan stood there, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his eyes, his face partially hidden behind a mask but unmistakable to her.

She barely had time to process it before a squeal of delight escaped her lips, and without thinking, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her just as tightly. “You really didn’t notice me until now?” he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

Luna only buried her face into his chest, her heart pounding with a mixture of surprise and overwhelming happiness. “I— how are you—?” she stammered, her voice muffled against him.

He pulled his mask down slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to the temple of her head, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck gently. “Just wanted to make sure you guys are alright,” he whispered, laughing softly against her hair.

The rest of the members, still watching with wide smiles, couldn’t help but laugh at her delayed reaction.

“We are alright by the way. Thank you for asking!” Seungkwan said sarcastically considering all Jeonghan’s focus was on Luna.

“Seriously, no one’s that used to someone’s voice,” Hoshi added, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Luna pulled back just enough to look up at Jeonghan, still holding onto him as her laughter bubbled out. She swatted at his chest playfully. “You sneak!”

Jeonghan grinned down at her, his arms not letting her go just yet. “You should know by now I love surprising you.”

And despite the chaos of the moment, despite the earlier worry about the fire, Luna couldn’t stop smiling. Being in his arms, surrounded by her members, with the concert still buzzing around them— it was perfect.

Even in the most unexpected of circumstances, with a fire delay and a surprise visit, everything felt right.

Jeonghan stayed with them for what felt like the briefest twenty minutes of Luna’s life, though time itself seemed to stretch and bend while he was by her side.

From the moment he appeared behind her, she felt his presence like an anchor, grounding her amidst the bustle of their delayed concert.

Jeonghan hadn’t let go of her once, keeping her close, his hands never straying far from her skin. The warmth of his touch lingered in every kiss he pressed— soft and tender against her forehead, her temple, the nook of her neck, the curve of her cheek, and even the subtle brush of his lips against her own when the others weren’t watching too closely.

His affection was quiet but ever-present, each kiss a reminder of how much they had missed each other.

It felt like he was memorizing her in those fleeting moments as if they were sneaking time in their usual bubble despite the chaos around them.

When his lips found the back of her hand, her engagement ring cool beneath his touch, Luna’s heart swelled. He had always been tactile with her, but tonight, it felt like every kiss, every touch held extra weight. Each one was a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through together— of how much they meant to one another, of how much he wished he could be with her on that stage.

The rest of the members let them have their quiet reunion without interruption. They continued chatting with Jeonghan, catching up on things, but they gave the couple their space. Despite being surrounded by people, the world felt small and intimate, just for them.

But twenty minutes was never enough.

Eventually, the crew came back to inform them that everything was under control, and the stage had been cleared. The fire was contained and minor— no one had been hurt, and nothing had escalated.

The relief that washed over Luna was palpable, though it was bittersweet because it meant Jeonghan would have to go back to his seat.

She hadn’t wanted to let him go, but as she watched him flash her a reassuring smile, she knew he would be watching, cheering her on just like before. He pressed one final kiss on her lips, his hand lingering on hers for a brief moment before he slipped out of the room.

The twenty-minute delay had passed like a blink, and though they were slightly behind schedule, none of the members seemed to care. They were just grateful that the situation hadn’t spiraled into something worse.

Once they were cleared to go, the members gathered themselves, adjusting their outfits and shaking off any lingering tension.

The fire was a hiccup, but the show had to go on.

And it did— seamlessly.

As they returned to the stage, the energy from the fans was as vibrant as ever. Jeonghan had taken his seat again, watching from his place in the audience, and Luna couldn’t help but glance in his direction, feeling that familiar spark knowing he was there, watching her. She felt renewed, the anxiety from earlier gone as they launched into their next set.

Song after song, they poured everything they had into their performances. The members danced and sang with such passion, interacting with the fans and throwing themselves into their signature antics.

It wasn’t a SEVENTEEN show without a few hilarious, chaotic moments, and despite the earlier scare, they didn’t hold back. The fans were relieved that everything had been handled, roared with approval, feeding off the energy the group gave.

Of course, there were jokes about the fire.

Some of the members couldn’t resist cracking a few light-hearted comments, saying the fire had only started because their performances were just that hot. Seungkwan, Hoshi, and even Dokyeom threw in their quips, teasing that the stage couldn’t handle their intensity, eliciting more laughter from the crowd.

The fans ate it up, cheering and laughing as the members played off the unexpected situation with ease.

And in the middle of it all, Luna found herself back in her element. The slight delay faded into the background as the show flowed effortlessly from one set to the next. She moved with the music, her voice blending with the others, her body moving in sync with the choreography she knew so well.

Every now and then, she’d sneak another glance toward Jeonghan, catching his gaze even from afar, feeling that unspoken connection between them.

As the night wore on, the setlist began to wind down. They’d gone from high-energy songs to their slower, more emotional tracks, each moment imbued with meaning. The atmosphere in the arena shifted as the fans realized they were nearing the end of the show.

Before they knew it, they were standing on the stage, looking out at the sea of fans, about to perform their final song for the night. Luna’s chest tightened with emotion, a mix of pride and awe at what they had accomplished.

The first night of their world tour was coming to a close, and it had been everything they’d hoped for— despite the unexpected bumps along the way.

As the final notes played, Luna felt the bittersweetness of the moment sink in.

The first day of their tour was over.

But it was only the beginning.

The moment Luna stepped behind the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears, but the rush of adrenaline hadn’t yet settled. It thrummed beneath her skin, buzzing like static as their crew and staff cheered loudly, creating a vibrant wall of sound that filled the backstage area.

Members of the team, the staff, and the crew clapped for them, congratulating them on a successful opening night, their faces beaming with pride. Several cameras followed their every move, capturing the behind-the-scenes footage that would later be used for DVDs and special releases for the fans, a memory to be immortalized.

Hoshi and Mingyu were already talking to one of the cameras, playfully waving and making exaggerated poses, their faces red from exertion but their spirits sky-high. The others mingled around, some talking to the crew, others exchanging breathless laughs as they tried to steady their breathing after the intense finale.

But Luna’s mind wasn’t on the cameras, the chaos of the crew, or the noise swirling around them. Her eyes, sharp and singular in their focus, found him immediately.

Jeonghan was standing just beyond the cluster of people, waiting for them— and more specifically, waiting for her.

He had removed his mask, revealing the full brilliance of his smile, and her heart fluttered at the sight. It was the same smile that had always undone her. The same smile that now, five years into their relationship and officially out in the open, still made her feel like she was falling in love all over again.

Luna’s body reacted before her mind fully registered the thought, and before she knew it, she was running. Bolting, really— her legs carrying her with the kind of speed she reserved for the stage, for the most high-energy moments of a performance.

But this? This was pure, uncontainable emotion.

The excitement of seeing him again, of having him waiting for her so openly, so proudly, after everything they’d been through.

She was running toward her home.

And the fans in the nearby seats could see it all.

The backstage area was still partially exposed to the arena, especially the seats that stretched upward, giving some fans a perfect vantage point. As Luna dashed across the back, the fans who could see her immediately erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a frenzy.

Pandemonium broke out as the realization hit that she was running straight into Jeonghan’s arms. The fans screamed, some pulling out their phones, others clutching their chests as they watched the scene unfold like something out of a drama. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the collective gasp of thousands witnessing the moment.

Jeonghan, waiting with that same easy smile, braced himself just as Luna crashed into him. His arms wrapped around her waist with ease, and with a gentle laugh, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her around effortlessly. Luna’s giggle was light and carefree, the kind of sound that made everything else melt away.

It was just him.

Just her.

Just them.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

The moment her feet touched the ground, Luna’s hands came up instinctively, cupping his face as if grounding herself in the reality of his presence. She felt the familiar warmth of his skin beneath her palms, the softness of his hair brushing against her fingers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

But Jeonghan, always one step ahead, beat her to it. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, unhurried, filled with the quiet certainty of their love.

Despite the madness surrounding them— the cameras, the crew, the fans, and even the members throwing cheeky glances and comments their way— none of it mattered.

In that moment, it was only the two of them.

Every kiss still felt like it held new meaning— like they were discovering parts of each other they hadn’t yet explored, even after all this time.

The fans were screaming louder now, their cheers mixing with the laughter of their members, who were already teasing them for being so openly affectionate. “Scandalous!” Hoshi's voice echoed in the distance, followed by Dino’s exaggerated gasp, and the others quickly joined in with their own jokes. Seungcheol shook his head, a playful smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to keep the group in line.

But neither Luna nor Jeonghan cared.

They had stopped caring about the opinions of others the moment their relationship became public.

After years of hiding, of sneaking around, and stealing moments where they could, this openness felt like freedom.

No more disguises.

No more secrets.

Just them, unashamedly in love in front of everyone who cared to watch.

Jeonghan pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against her forehead, then her temple, as if sealing the moment with small, lingering kisses. Luna’s heart swelled in her chest, a smile tugging at her lips as she rested her head against his chest for a brief second, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Around them, the world buzzed with excitement, but in his arms, it felt like peace. The cameras kept rolling, capturing every second of the moment, and the fans continued to scream, but none of it mattered.

It was just the two of them, lost in each other, in a love that had weathered time, distance, and now, the scrutiny of the world.

The members laughed louder at the display, throwing more jokes in their direction, but Luna and Jeonghan simply smiled at one another, content in the knowledge that they no longer had anything to hide.

This was their world now, and they were living it fully, unapologetically.

Luna’s bubble of peace with Jeonghan was suddenly burst when Seungkwan’s voice cut through the noise of the backstage area, dripping with exaggerated sarcasm and mock disgust. “We get it, you two love each other, knock it off!”

Jeonghan’s deep, melodic laugh rang out instantly, and Luna couldn’t help but join in, feeling the warmth of their private moment turning into something shared, something lighthearted. The laughter of their teammates blended into the air, creating a symphony of joy around them.

Jeonghan gently parted from her, his hand grazing hers one last time before he turned, arms wide, playfully chasing after Seungkwan with a mischievous grin.

“Seungkwanie,” Jeonghan cooed dramatically, dragging out his name in a sing-song voice, his playful nature in full force.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as he pretended to scramble away, but it was too late. Jeonghan easily caught up with him, enveloping him in an exaggerated bear hug, both of them stumbling as Jeonghan swayed them from side to side like a father holding a child. Seungkwan groaned in mock suffering but couldn’t stop the smile breaking across his face.

“Why am I always the target of your love?” Seungkwan whined, though his arms returned the hug before half-heartedly trying to push Jeonghan away. “Can’t you just keep your affection for noona?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t dedicate a whole essay for me on Weverse on my birthday,” Jeonghan grinned and ruffled Seungkwan’s hair before finally releasing him, earning a playful shove in return from Seungkwan who pouted, “Shut it.”

“I have so much love to give, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan replied, still laughing.

As the playful banter continued, the group naturally gravitated toward the corridor that led back to their designated waiting room. Conversations and laughter littered the halls, filling the air as they walked, their energy still high from the concert.

It felt like any other day like Jeonghan had never been gone at all, like they hadn’t just gone weeks without his presence on stage or in their daily lives.

Luna found herself walking a few steps behind the group, watching with a smile that spread wide across her face.

It was surreal— Jeonghan, back with them, laughing and joking like no time had passed. For a brief moment, she let herself forget the reality of his military service, letting herself imagine that everything was normal again.

That he had never left and that he would be with them for the rest of the tour.

But as happy as she was to have him back, even if just for tonight, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart.

It wasn’t quite complete. Not without Jun.

She wished he were here with them, completing their chaotic group and filling the room with his quiet but steady presence. With Jeonghan and Jun both gone, it was like a piece of their family was missing. She sighed softly, letting the feeling pass as she reminded herself that Jun would be back soon, too.

It was only a matter of time.

By the time they reached their waiting room, the atmosphere was buzzing with the same energy they carried off the stage.

The room was filled with the familiar sounds of SEVENTEEN— playful banter, teasing remarks, and laughter that echoed off the walls. They were still riding the high of the successful opening night, adrenaline pumping as they began to peel off their performance outfits and transition into their more comfortable clothes.

Some of the members were already seated, pulling off stage shoes with tired groans of relief while others started removing their makeup, faces still flushed from the heat of the stage. The air was thick exhaustion but it was home.

It was the usual post-concert chaos— everyone talking over each other, recounting moments from the show, poking fun at any small mistakes they made during their sets.

Hoshi was standing in front of the mirror, dramatically wiping off his makeup with a makeup wipe. “The energy was insane. I can go another round— I was born for this, you know?” he declared, his voice full of mock drama, earning a round of eye rolls and amused chuckles from the members who are used to Hoshi’s energy.

Luna couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her as she leaned back into her chair, watching the usual antics unfold around her. Even after years together, the energy in the room was always electric post-concert.

No matter how tired they were, there was something about that post-show buzz that brought out the best— and the most ridiculous— parts of them.

Her gaze drifted to Jeonghan, who was now sitting on the arm of one of the couches, his hair slightly tousled from their earlier reunion. He was watching the members with a soft smile on his face, occasionally throwing in a comment here and there, but mostly content to just soak in the atmosphere.

He caught her looking and flashed her a wink, and her heart did a little flip. She smiled back, warmth flooding her chest. Moments like this were what she cherished most— the simplicity of being together, the feeling of family, of belonging.

The noise around her continued, a comforting, chaotic background to her thoughts as she settled back, letting herself enjoy the moment.

This was what she loved— being surrounded by people she cared about, performing with them, and knowing that despite everything, they would always find their way back to each other.

As she sat there, letting the laughter wash over her, she couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for her members, for their fans, and for moments like this— where everything felt perfect, even if it was just for a little while.

Luna leaned back in her chair, sighing softly with contentment. The concert had gone well, their first night was a success, and even with the unexpected fire, they’d managed to pull through together.

Unbeknownst to her, Jeonghan’s gaze had been fixed on her for several moments now, watching her quietly from his seat. He had a way of seeing her, really seeing her, even when she was lost in her own thoughts. His heart warmed at the sight of her— a mix of strength and softness, glowing in the afterglow of their performance.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up from his spot, his movements so smooth and silent that no one noticed as he crossed the room toward her. He gently caressed her arm, his touch soft and familiar.

Luna glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. There were no questions in her eyes, just trust. Without needing to say anything, she let him guide her to a more secluded corner of the room, away from the others, away from the bustling noise of post-concert excitement.

Jeonghan turned toward her, a soft smile lighting up his face as he gazed down at her. “Hey,” he said, his voice a warm melody that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hi,” Luna smiled back, her voice soft, and without hesitation, their hands found each other, fingers naturally intertwining.

The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them again, wrapped in their bubble of comfort and affection.

Jeonghan’s hand rose to her face, gently brushing a few strands of hair away. His fingers lightly traced her cheek as his thumb caressed her skin, his touch tender and careful, as if she were something delicate.

“You did such a good job earlier,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing, the tone that always made her knees feel weak. His fingers continued to brush over her cheek, and then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing soft kisses to the back of her hand, one after the other. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his lips now grazing the tips of her fingers, sending little jolts of warmth through her.

Luna felt her breath hitch slightly, the wall behind her suddenly a blessing as it was the only thing keeping her steady.

Jeonghan’s soft, gentle tone— this was her weakness and he knew this. She tried to compose herself, but the way he doted on her, the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe, made it difficult to remain standing.

“I loved it,” Luna finally managed, her voice a little breathless, eyes locked on his.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued his gentle teasing. “You were amazing out there. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— you always are.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip, and her heart fluttered in response.

Luna’s lips parted slightly at his touch, her usual assertive demeanor slipping away in the face of his gentle cooing. “Stop, you’re making me blush,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Blushing suits you,” Jeonghan teased, leaning down slightly until his forehead nearly touched hers. His lips ghosted over the tip of her nose as he continued to murmur, “I missed seeing you like this, Nana-ya.”

Luna’s cheeks burned with warmth, and she let out a soft laugh, tilting her head back against the wall. “You’re the only reason why I am like this.”

“Good,” he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. His thumb brushed her cheek again, his other hand lifting her left hand to his lips once more. He kissed each of her fingers, his lips lingering a bit longer this time, his gaze never leaving hers.

She could feel the butterflies swirling in her stomach, her mind spinning under his gaze.

Then, just as naturally as ever, Jeonghan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. It was sleek, the kind that made Luna’s breath catch in her throat. Without a word, he placed it in her hand, his expression soft but serious.

Luna stared at the box for a moment, her heart racing. She pouted up at him, curiosity and a hint of confusion in her eyes. “What is this?” she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

Jeonghan’s smile softened, his eyes growing tender as he spoke. “I’ll be watching the show again tomorrow but you know I won’t be able to watch every single one, right? I won’t be able to travel outside the country either,” he began, his voice gentle, knowing how sensitive this topic was for her.

Luna’s heart clenched at his words. She knew this reality all too well. He wouldn’t always be with them, with her, during the tour. It was a thought that had lingered in the back of her mind all night.

As she opened the box, her breath caught again. Inside was a delicate gold band bracelet. Simple, elegant, and timeless— just like him. Luna took it out carefully, holding it in her palm, and that’s when she noticed the engraving.

Her heart swelled as she read the words etched into the gold:

Breathe. It’s just you and me. Nothing else.

Jeonghan’s forehead was suddenly pressed against hers, their shared ritual grounding her, just like it always had. He took the bracelet from her hand, slipping it around her left wrist, fastening it carefully as though it were the most precious thing in the world. “This is so you won’t forget our words to each other,” he whispered.

Luna’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked up at him, her lips trembling into a pout. “Hannie…” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t cry,” Jeonghan cooed softly, pulling back just enough to press a tender kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there before he pulled away and lifted the sleeve of his own jacket. “Look,” he said, showing her his own matching bracelet. “We match.”

Luna sniffled and pushed at his chest playfully, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re always the reason for my tears, you know that right?” she huffed, though her smile betrayed her true feelings.

Jeonghan chuckled, his laugh low and rich. “I know,” he teased, “You just love me so much.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile. “When did you even have the time to do this?” she asked, glancing down at the bracelet again, admiring the way the light reflected off the gold.

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he winked at her. “I have all the time in the world when it comes to you.”

Luna let out a scoff of disbelief, a laugh escaping her lips. “You’ve gotten cheesier.”

Jeonghan smirked, his retort quick and cool. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile as she lightly tapped his chest. “You know, I used to think you were all serious and mysterious,” she teased, her voice light and full of amusement. “Turns out, you’re just a huge softie.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his arms winding back around her waist, pulling her closer as he leaned down. “A softie? Is that what I am?” His voice was low, teasing, with that familiar silky tone that always sent a rush of warmth through her. “Well, I’m only like this because I have you to be soft for.”

Luna felt her cheeks heat up again, but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Jeonghan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “And you’re lucky I can’t resist you.” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes sparkling with affection. “I mean, look at you,” he continued, his voice soft and tender now. “How could I not be completely wrapped around your finger? You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Luna’s heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone making her pulse quicken. She tried to compose herself, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I think I have some idea,” she replied, her voice softening as she met his gaze head-on.

Jeonghan laughed, that light, airy sound that always made her chest feel lighter. “You think?” he teased, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You know you’re everything to me, right?”

Luna’s breath caught at the sudden tenderness in his words. She could feel her heart swelling in her chest, the emotion almost overwhelming. “Han…” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in the softest of touches. “No, really,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t say it enough, but you’re my everything, Jiyeon. No matter where I am, or what’s going on, you’re always on my mind.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally, her lips. It was soft, gentle, full of love and warmth. “You make everything better.”

Luna closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips on hers, the warmth of his touch, the security of his presence. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she murmured when they pulled apart. Her voice was quiet, but filled with so much emotion it nearly cracked. “Especially now… with everything going on.”

Jeonghan nodded, understanding. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “I know it’s been hard. But I promise you, we’re going to get through it. Even if I can’t be with you every step of the way, I’m still with you.” He took her hand again, lifting it to his lips and kissing her knuckles one by one. “Always.”

Luna’s heart swelled, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, though she blinked them away. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of love.

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, then the bracelet, before looking back up at her. “And I will. Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be with you. This…” He gestured to the bracelet, then to his matching one. “This is just a reminder. You and me. Nothing else.”

“Just us. Nothing else.” Luna stared at him, her heart so full she thought it might burst. She couldn’t hold back anymore— couldn’t stop the overwhelming wave of love that washed over her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “So much.”

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around her in return, his embrace warm and steady, his lips pressing into her hair. “I love you too, my pretty moon,” he murmured against her, his voice soft and filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his hand cupping her face again. “More than anything.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of love and warmth. Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, slow and full of meaning. When they finally pulled away, Luna couldn’t help the small, content smile that spread across her face.

Jeonghan grinned, his thumb brushing her cheek again. “You’re mine, you know that?” he teased, though there was a soft sincerity behind his words.

Luna laughed softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’ve always been yours.”

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her one more time, a smile still on his lips. “And I’ll always be yours.”

He held Luna’s hands tighter, his gaze steady and full of love. “When I finish my service,” he whispered, his voice soft but resolute, “I’m going to marry you. No more waiting, no more delays. I promise.”

Luna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling at his words. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and whispered back, “I’ll be waiting, Hannie. Always.”

At that moment, it was just the two of them again.

Just like Luna’s first monthly evaluation as a trainee… it was just them.

Wrapped up in their little world, their bubble, where nothing else mattered.

It felt as if time had stopped, and for that brief space in time, there was no concert, no cameras, no members.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Just them, as it had always been, and as it always would be.

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seiwas · 2 years ago

Text

₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love.

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity.

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s.

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory.

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t.

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

It starts with the little things.

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23.

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying.

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly.

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy.

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze.

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry.

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji.

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away.

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them.

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in.

A chuckle escapes you.

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone.

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue.

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly).

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing.

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order).

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly.

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly.

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you.

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times.

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick.

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you.

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning.

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage.

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice.

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming.

Is this what it means to be in love with you?

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you.

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing.

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there.

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will.

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen.

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin.

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own.

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old.

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek.

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this.

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit.

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him?

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score.

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems.

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely.

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing.

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes.

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this.

Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room.

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette.

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into.

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it.

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach.

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’.

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age.

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined.

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines.

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students.

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew.

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly.

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy.

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time.

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced.

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen?

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially.

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully.

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared.

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too.

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing.

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile.

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy).

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since.

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly.

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too.

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you.

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked.

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue.

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows.

But it isn’t, and your smile widens.

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does.

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.”

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel.

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you.

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow.

“What made him ask?”

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity.

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.”

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever.

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his.

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t.

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders.

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together.

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks.

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed.

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours.

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17.

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology.

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you.

He says it as if it is the simplest truth.

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll.

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think.

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.

“Something like it.”

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?”

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you?

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’.

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering.

Can he see? You’re meant for him only.

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away.

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other.

You cup his cheeks.

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now.

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief.

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile.

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips.

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you.

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together.

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips.

You laugh—sprinkled in love.

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!”

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully.

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.”

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks.

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now.

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage.

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should.

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you?

For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give.

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing.

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too.

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface.

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way.

“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry.

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up?

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging.

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through.

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking.

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving.

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you.

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you.

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with.

He knows it.

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with?

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same.

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak.

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him.

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?)

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today.

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet.

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold.

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you.

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go.

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him.

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it.

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask.

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more.

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society.

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much.

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him.

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you.

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips.

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly.

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks.

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching.

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry.

Your grip on him tightens.

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck.

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.”

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder.

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum.

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it.

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even.

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately.

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.”

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune.

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled.

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.”

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding.

You always do.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today.

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane.

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making.

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything.

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over.

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy.

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky.

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life.

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.”

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you.

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way).

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now.

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

He’s shocked too.

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely.

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.”

The little laugh you make has him, completely.

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too.

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’.

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you.

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him.

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently.

The best part about being in love?

He gets to be in it with you.

Gojo can’t sleep.

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will.

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching.

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m.

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that.

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it.

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island.

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating.

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever.

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling.

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting.

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him.

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain.

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it.

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray.

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too.

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like.

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you.

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek.

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret.

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after.

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already.

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing.

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin.

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging.

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one.

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone.

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good.

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing).

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs.

(And he loves that about you).

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder.

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill.

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice.

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them.

He knows.

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you.

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only.

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you.

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy.

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides.

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.”

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love.

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night.

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong.

Are you happy with me?

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!! of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #algorithm pls love me

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