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[wxfilterclothsblog]

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[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when gojo satoru sees a tiktok that says “she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies” and takes it way too seriously?

a/n : satoru in a small ponytail. that’s it. i am so ill.

it starts with a tiktok.

some ridiculous, pastel-filtered, bubbly-voiced thing that popped up on his for you page. satoru wasn’t even paying attention at first—phone half dangling from his hand, his long legs stretched across the couch, socks mismatched, one slipping off at the heel. eyes glassy from too many cursed reports. a headache blooming behind his infinity.

then he hears it:

“she won’t marry you if you don’t bake her cookies.”

the video loops, endlessly.

satoru’s entire body tenses like he’s been struck. won’t marry me? the phrase echoes. his thumb hovers above the screen, then slowly lowers it like he’s disarming a bomb. he watches the video again. and again. and again. each repetition more damning than the last.

because here’s the thing—he’s already imagined it. you, in white. your name beside his on every formality. the tiny domestic moments. the matching toothbrushes. your socks in his drawer. the way you scrunch your nose at strong coffee but drink it anyway because it reminds you of mornings with him. gojo satoru, known for his irreverence, hasn’t taken anything seriously since he was sixteen—except you.

so, of course, he can’t take any risks.

within five minutes, he’s spiraling. tabs multiplying like cursed spirits. “best cookie recipes to make her love you.” “is baking a love language.” “can cookies be legally binding.” he’s skimming mom blogs and side-eyeing user reviews like they’re jujutsu intel. he gets into an argument with a reddit user named sugarboi92 about sea salt ratios. he forgets to blink.

you’re across from him on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, headphones in, humming softly to yourself. your lips move slightly with the lyrics. you don’t even notice the way his blue eyes flick toward you every thirty seconds, like he’s checking the stakes of the mission. his gaze lingers on the slope of your shoulder, the arch of your brow when you’re concentrating. the way you curl your toes slightly when you're content.

the next day, the kitchen is chaos.

flour in his hair. streaked across one cheek like warpaint. he’s tied his hair back, sort of—a stubborn, barely-there stub of a ponytail held by one of your elastics, fraying loose at the crown. his bangs still refuse to behave, fluttering messily over his forehead. he’s in your apron. pink. frilly. a cartoon cat winking on the chest. it rides up awkwardly over his broad frame, and he wears it with the dignity of a man crafting destiny.

his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. his forearms flex as he stirs. his fingers are clumsy, smudged with brown sugar. a smear of chocolate ends up on his temple. he mutters under his breath with each step, reciting the recipe like a curse formula. every so often, he glances toward the door, listening for your footsteps.

jazz plays faintly from the speaker. something soft, velvety. the smell of vanilla and browned sugar hangs heavy in the air. when he spins to check the oven, his socked foot slips slightly on a patch of spilled butter—he stumbles, catches himself with infinity, then growls, “no, no, no—these are for my wife.”

satoru tries. he really tries. he measures, levels, even uses your little kitchen scale. but halfway through, impatience wins. he eyeballs the butter. forgets the baking soda. adds too many chocolate chips. licks the spoon like it might tell him what love should taste like.

the cookies come out uneven. some puffed too tall. others thin, laced with caramelized edges. a few… a few are better left unnamed. but he arranges the best of them on a plate, forming a heart that leans to the side like it’s shy. he pipes icing across the center: “marry me?”

it’s crooked. a little desperate. but honest.

the kitchen is still warm when you shuffle in, rubbing your eyes, hair sticking up from sleep. your sleep shirt hangs off one shoulder. you freeze mid-step, blinking slowly at the sight of him.

he’s standing like a statue—plate in both hands, held up like an offering to a divine force. his hair is coming loose, white strands falling into his eyes. powdered sugar dusts his collarbone.

“...did you bake?”

your voice is raspy. amused. your brows lift slightly.

“for you,” he blurts. “they’re… hideous. but they’re made with love. and maybe some shell. tiny bits. character-building crunch.”

you blink. then smile. soft and slow. your hand comes up to stifle a laugh, but it slips through anyway—light and warm. he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a century.

you take a cookie, nibble it, eyebrows rising in playful surprise. “not bad. crunchy. very... bold.”

he grins, triumphant and sheepish all at once. “bold like my love.”

later, you’re curled into him on the couch, your fingers idly twisting the hem of his shirt. his hand is at your waist, thumb rubbing slow circles over your hipbone, grounding himself. the crumbs from the cookies are scattered on the coffee table, forgotten.

satoru murmurs into your hair, “you would marry me even if i didn’t bake, right?”

you hum, teasing. “maybe.”

you don’t see the way his jaw tightens slightly. how his hand stills. how his eyes lose focus, staring somewhere into the middle distance.

that night, he doesn’t sleep.

by 3 a.m., he’s back in the kitchen. hair tied up again, face set in grim determination. this time, he double-checks the measurements. preheats the oven properly. watches every timer like a hawk. he sifts the flour twice. levels every cup. wipes down the counter with surgical precision.

because gojo satoru might be the strongest sorcerer alive—but when it comes to you, he won’t risk anything. not even with cookies.

he knows the video’s probably a joke. he knows you’re not the kind of person who’d break up with him over a batch of chocolate chips. he knows tiktok is 90% lies and 10% cat videos with manipulated audio. but what if it’s not? what if, deep down, there's a part of you that really does want warm, homemade cookies from the person you love? what if someone else bakes them for you first?

that’s not a chance he’s willing to take.

not when he’s already seen every future where he loses you—and in none of them did it start with cookies. but maybe that’s why it’s so dangerous. maybe the end begins with small, quiet things.

so he bakes.

and love, unlike cursed energy, can’t be tamed. it pulses, wild and unscripted, without binding vows or techniques—just a heart stupid enough to keep trying.

[dmitriene]

waking up in simon's riley bed, a one time meeting with a stranger in a bar that ended with a sex, a one time thing, after which you usually leave, but this morning is different in many ways from past similar situations, the absence of a man's body on your side, not even a note, an empty, wide bedroom without your belongings that you can't find anywhere, not even your underwear.

with your body aching, from the engraved imprints of his fingers on your skin, the ravenous dents his teeth's left, on the delicate curve of your neck, blossoming with freshly made bruises his mouth made, between your supple thighs, where everything strains at your little, stiff movements, muscles sore and your pussy swollen from being ravaged till the last drop.

you're too far deep in your thoughts, in the clouding confusion of where your things gone, that you don't notice the muffled wooden thud of the kitchen's cupboard outside the bedroom, before the door flings open, making you freeze in the middle of a room as bare as you are, meeting the dark pools of eyes in front of you, framed by the quiver of pale eyelashes.

he's a pretty man, under tawny eyes smudged violet, sunken into his skin all together, tuts of cropped hair still tousled after the sleep, sticking into different directions to meet the pale, filtering glow of sunshine from the window, and you only notice that he studies you as well when you meet his sunlighted gaze again, naked body shuddering from the depths of the rotting hunger you see there, the one that stretches it's feelers towards you.

simon croons hoarsely, about what a pretty sight you are, much more timid than the night before, and you see the scorching, crescent marks of your nails along the scarred expanse of his cast muscled chest, feel yourself grow more shy, the rising warmth of flush along your body, speckling with goosebumps, as he crosses the distance between you two in what seems like two steps.

you know you need to leave, ask him for your clothes, maybe tell that you're sorry, but there's nothing more to await, but his trained eyes burn a path up and down your legs, where your thighs meet together when you feel something leak out, oozing in glistening streaks down your skin, his fingers swooping down to collect the pearly drops, before smudging them against your puffy folds, meeting your hiccuping gasp with a low growl of his own.

his cum, he shoves it back in your already fluttering hole, embarrassingly wet, warm as you clench instinctively around the intrusioning, thick digits, your hands clawing their way up to grasp at his wide shoulders, sinking in the pale skin, knocking your forehead against his chest, before simon moves his hand away, fingers pulling out from your loose hole, smeared wet, as he scoops you up.

still naked, with your pussy now throbbing from the stretch, making your senses frizz at the ends, he cradles you against his burly form and carries you out of the room, there's an appetizing aromas wafting through the air, luring you into the kitchen he carries you in, where a fresh, hearty breakfast is already served on the dining table, waiting only for you, as simon settles you on the high stool.

in front of the filled plate and with a wet kiss pressed at your neck, he brings you closer to the table, plopping beside with a subtle squeeze at the curve of your waist, hands greedy, as he urges you to eat, as if you pick up your fork now and let yourself sink into this strange, morning routine, you wouldn't be able to leave anymore, and that's been simon's plan since that night at the bar.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[lieslab]

Where's my love?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X afab reader

Summary: Unannounced and unplanned, you leave your boyfriend, but when he finds you again, things have changed drastically.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2.7K

~ Part 2 ~

_ _ _

The sky grew dark again and that meant another night of suffocation for Chan. Another night of looking at the moon and hoping somewhere in the city of Seoul, you were looking at it too. In theory, the moon is all he has left of you. 

Every time he called your name, the quiet halls haunted him. Each time he dialed your number, the same automatic and robotic voice caused his heart to quiver; a threat to burst at the seams. The texts never fell through. You blocked his number weeks ago. No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d never get through. 

The worst thing about loving someone is putting your heart on a line. Handing someone a loaded gun and trusting them not to pull the trigger. The evenings used to fill with shared laughter. Your smile that he thought could harness his own happiness forever. 

As long as you stayed, his confidence grew. Those what-if thoughts turned into a reality. You provided a stable structure for the foundation of his heart. Any time he had doubts or the fears became too large, he found himself finding hope again between your hands. With his cheeks pressed against your hands, the reassuring sound of your voice, he never thought he’d have to live without it. 

He knew he had his flaws. Everyone had their flaws, but he never thought those flaws drove a wedge between the two of you. Life turned into a balancing act. Everything went well and when it fell apart, he thought you trusted him enough to open up. 

Whether that had been a lie or if he hurt you in a way that he couldn’t understand, he didn’t know. You didn’t give him a chance to explain. In the middle of a silent night, Chan stayed in the studio to finish up a beat. 

At your shared home, tears laced your eyes. In a panic and disbelief, you threw your clothes into an open suitcase. The clothes, the toiletries, and your favorite photo of the two of you. You snatched the small black frame and threw it into your suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t bend. 

Driving home from the studio, exhaustion laced Chan’s head. Purple bags smeared beneath his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of your car. The first few numbers of the license plate matched yours, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. 

He didn’t realize your side of the closet turned empty. He didn’t take notice of your missing shoes. He went directly into your room, collapsed on the bed, and fell asleep assuming you were in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be anything new for you. With a small bladder, you always had to go. 

The horrendous truth wouldn’t hit him until the next morning. _ _ _ 

In the morning, blue birds sang. The only woodpecker living in the backyard filed away at a tree with a sharp beak. A mirage of morning colors swept across the bustling city. Chan rolled over, expecting to get his hands on you, but you weren’t there. 

In a sleepy haze, his eyes half-opened and he glanced around the room. A faint light filtered through the laced curtains. He squinted, looking around trying to figure out where you were, wondering if you were up making breakfast. Sometimes you woke up early, but other times, you stayed in bed past noon. 

He never knew what the mornings would bring with you. Tender touches, quick kisses, and the rest unraveled into a mystery. Would the two of you argue over the simplicity of pancakes or waffles? The age old question that you always fought over. 

Perhaps, the morning would end with him wrapping you in his arms and refusing to let you go. He’d hold you hostage and appreciate you more than you’d ever know. While you swear, he’d laugh and squeeze you tighter. Promising, vowing, and praying that none of this would ever change. 

For a few more seconds, a few more minutes, another hour, the two of you would stay side-by-side. Two hearts beating for one another through thin, stretched skin. Two halves of a whole, being forced to separate for society’s standards, before the two of you could reunite again. 

He shoved himself up, ran a hand through his messy curls, and started to search for you. He called your name, rubbed his eyes, and padded out into the living room. The TV remained silent. Your shoes weren’t parked on the usual rug beside the door. The hooks holding your house and car keys remained empty. Two golden hooks without their usual objects. A house without a beating heart. He assumed you went out to get breakfast, but the messages remained unread. 

Having to go back to work, he sent you a final text. One final text that you didn’t gather the courage to read until hours later. Hours too late. You were already miles away. You whispered the words, pretended he was reading them off to you, but you never responded. Instead, you hit the block button. 

A heavy heart, eyes swollen with tears, maybe one day he’d understand, but you had to do what was best for the both of you. 

Even if it nearly killed you in the process. 

_ _ _ 

Four years, seven months, and two days. 

That’s how long it took before the two of you stumbled into each other again. The first months hurt and the wounds on each of your hearts grew raw. You bled endlessly, but what more could you do? Everything always fell apart before it could come back together again. 

You still kept up to date with Chan’s band. You bought every album and listened to every song. Woven through the lyrics of his song, a man mourned. He bled guilt. He pleaded for his lover’s return, but it never led to anything. 

Those first few weeks, he searched for you everywhere. With a photo of you, he went into your favorite places, desperately holding up your smiling face to employees, begging to know if they had seen you. Nobody ever did. You faded into the abyss, but his feelings for you never did. 

You vanished like a ghost. You haunted him at all the wrong times. Your missing presence caused the band to go on hiatus for three months. Nobody could make music when their leader was mourning. 

The guys tried to call you. They tried hunting you down. Chan even tried to contact your parents, but no matter what it did, it was a lost cause. The only thing that gave him hope was your best friend. 

At a loss, he appeared on their front doorstep in tears. Begging and pleading to know if you were okay. They promised you were, swore to him that it’d make sense one day, and shut the door. It never made any sense until today. 

The guys wanted his father’s lamb. His father was in Australia and he knew it’d never be as good as his father’s, but he tried to recreate it anyway. The guys had worked non-stop over the past six months. Their latest album sat at the top of the charts for seven weeks in a row and they were hoping it’d stay there for a while. 

Your disappearance caused his heart to ache, but it grew less now. Time heals all wounds and this one was no different. Deep down, he always hoped he’d be able to see you again, but he accepted that your disappearance was final. He’d never get the closure and that stung, but what else could he do?

In a face mask and a baseball hat hiding his face, he heard your voice first. A pack of raw lamb sat in his hand. Debating how many packs to buy, he thought he might have finally lost it. 

“No, no, no. What did I say? We can’t poke the raw meat’s plastic. If our fingers go through it, we can get sick. We don’t want that, do we?” 

Your voice wasn’t harsh, but rather a gentle compassion. He spun around to find you grabbing the hand of a small toddler and coaxing them away from the raw meat. His heart fluttered against the side of his chest. 

There you were. Your hair grew longer, but the bags beneath your eyes remained the same. Tucked in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you chose your comfort over society’s peer pressure to look your best all the time. He thought he might drop to his knees. 

“Do you want to sit in the cart? We’re almost done and then we can go back home. Grandma is waiting for us. It’s supposed to snow later. We need to get back to her house before the storm starts.”

Your hands reached out, but their head shook. Black hair bobbed and sat in waves around her small shoulders. Dressed in a pink fluffy coat and fur-lined winter boots, her little foot stomped. “No!” 

“Come on, honey, let’s-” 

The little girl spun around and took off running. Not realizing how close the stranger was, she dashed into Chan’s legs. He gasped and reached down to steady her. 

Your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! She can be a handful and-” Your cheeks went red as you hurried forward to grab her. 

The girl’s head tipped back, trying to see who she ran into. Chan reached up and gently pulled his mask down. The girl gasped and grinned. Two dimples and a mouthful of baby teeth. “Daddy!” 

“No, honey. This isn’t-” As your eyes met Chan’s, your world stopped. “Bang Chan?” 

“Daddy!” The little girl squealed again. Her tiny arms wrapped around one of his legs. 

He had so many questions for you, but they didn’t come out. Instead, his gaze fell onto the child at his feet. The same brown eyes as his. The same dimples. Looking at her reminded him of the childhood photos of himself. 

She had your smile, but from what he could see, everything else was from him. She cooed and pressed her head into his leg. “I like your music. Makes me dance.” 

“Honey,” you pleaded again quietly. “Come on, I’m sure he’s busy and-” 

“Is this why you left me?” The words fell out before he could stop them. “Is she really my daughter?” 

You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Coming back to Seoul had been a terrible idea, but your mother lived here. You couldn’t just stay away from her forever. You knew there was a chance you’d run into Chan when you were back, so you went to the places you thought he never visited. Apparently, times had changed over the years. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” 

“So you can leave me again?” He asked. Sadness laced his voice and your heart squeezed with pain. You hadn’t meant to cause him any harm, but you knew you had. 

You glanced around, making sure the two of you weren’t being eavesdropped on. Realizing it, he tugged up his face mask again, so nobody could recognize him. Your eyes slipped shut and then they reopened. 

“I left you because I was pregnant. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. Deep down, I was terrified you’d want to stop making music. I couldn’t ask you to pick between leaving your band and being a father.” 

“So you just left without a good-bye?” 

“It was cowardly, but I was afraid. I was afraid of everything. I didn’t know if I was going to go through with the pregnancy. I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep the baby. I didn’t know a lot of things. By leaving, it was easier than forcing you to choose.” 

“I have a daughter?” 

“Her name is Odette.” You stepped around the grocery cart, bent down, and picked her up. “I know that I’ll never be able to-” 

“Odettie Berry!” Odette squealed. “That’s me!” 

“Berry?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “You couldn’t be there when I named her. I felt awful when Berry died. I know how much you loved her, so I just…” 

The hurt grew indescribable. Your actions had been those of a coward, but knowing that you named your daughter after the dog he loved the most, it was touching. Odette Berry was perfect. 

He reached down and placed the grocery basket on the ground. “Can I hold her?” You nodded and gently handed her to him. 

She smelled like a faint mixture of baby powder and lavender. Her rounded head dipped forward. Her chin pressed against his shoulder and caused him to smile. A loud yawn pulled at her lips. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. 

To her, her father was not a stranger. You let her watch every new Skzoo Code video. Every new song, the two of you listened to together. No matter the distance you put between you and Chan, you still made sure she knew who her father was. 

“Come back home,” Chan whispered pleadingly. “She’s my daughter, too.” 

“I don’t want to cause any issues.” 

“I still have the apartment. The spare bedroom is empty. I still have all of your stuff that you left behind. You can’t just keep her hidden away from me now that I know she exists.” 

“Wolf Chan,” Odette mumbled as her eyes drooped. 

“She knows about Wolf Chan?” 

“Daddy’s plushie.” 

You cursed softly beneath your breath and scrambled through the items in the cart. “He’s in here somewhere.” You pushed aside the bread and eggs. Digging through the cold meat, you finally found him. “She can’t sleep without him.” You held it out to Chan. 

He grabbed it and brought it towards your daughter. “Is this who you’re looking for? Wolf Chan?” 

“Mmhm.” 

He smiled at her sleepy voice and tucked it beneath her arm. “There you go. You can sleep tight now, little one. Wolf Chan is here to save the day. You’re safe in Daddy’s arms.” 

You sniffled and wiped at the tears, trying to stop them. He paused when he said you. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been hoping you’d accept her, but I-I didn’t know. She loves you and the guys so much.” 

“She knows about the guys?” 

“Of course, I’ve told her about her uncles. Do you really think I’d never tell her? She has all of their plushies too. They line her bed and she can’t sleep without them. I think she loves Seungmin and Felix the most.” 

“Seungmin?” 

“She finds his bullying funny.” 

“You’re raising our daughter to be a Seungmin junior?” 

“No!” Your head shook rapidly. “I said she likes Felix too. She loves to help me bake. Just you wait, she tries to make beats like you too. Back home, she’s constantly tapping away at the kitchen table. I think she’s like you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Please come back home.” 

He reached an arm out towards you. Without hesitation, you hurried over and wrapped your arms around him. Your shoulder lightly pressed against your daughter. For a few moments, the world stopped, and the missing pieces realigned. 

Your cart of groceries sat abandoned behind you. Chan’s struggle for lamb seemed like a minor inconvenience more than anything. The guys wanting lamb brought him back together with you and his daughter. 

Odette Berry curled into his shoulder and cuddled a Wolf Chan plushie. This morning, his biggest challenge of the day was finding enough lamb. Now it was figuring out how to adjust to life with a child. 

No matter how upset your actions made him, no matter how much it hurt; he understood it now. No matter how much he wished you would have picked better choices, it was far too late. Things finally aligned in his favor and that was all that mattered now. 

Four years, seven months, and two days. That’s how long it took him to find you again. Despite that, a lifetime of memories now awaited him. New memories with his daughter. He’d have to figure out how to tell the guys that he had a kid. 

His ghost had finally been found and that was the best gift anyone could ever give him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[ivyues]

Early Bird ⋅ Lee Know

While you're still tangled in the sheets, Lee Know fills the kitchen with quite affection.

The soft morning light seeped through your curtains, gently pulling you from sleep. You stretched lazily, reaching out towards the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A groggy frown tugged at your lips as your fingers brushed over cool sheets. He was gone.  

It took you a moment to fully wake up, but then the faint clatter of pans reached your ears. You sat up, blinking in confusion before realization dawned. Minho. Of course, your boyfriend was in the kitchen.  

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled towards the source of the noise. The smell of something delicious hit you before you even reached the doorway. You paused there for a moment, leaning against the frame and watching.  

There he was, in your kitchen, wearing one of your aprons – tied a little too snugly around his waist – his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He moved with a natural ease, flipping something in a pan while humming quietly to himself.  

The sight made your heart ache in the best way.  

Unable to resist, you crossed the small space between you and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, then relaxed, chuckling softly.  

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Finally decided to join the land of the living, huh?”  

You hummed sleepily, holding him a little tighter while rubbing your head against his back. “Didn’t want to wake up without you.”  

He glanced back at you, raising a brow. “So dramatic this early in the morning?”  

“Can’t help it,” you mumbled, peeking over his shoulder at the pan. “What are you making? Let me help—”  

“Absolutely not”, he interrupted, gently prying your arms away and turning to face you. His smirk was infuriatingly charming.  

“What? Why not?” you protested, frowning at him.  

“Because,” he said, crossing his arms, “the last time you tried to ‘help’, you burned yourself and almost set the whole kitchen on fire. I’m not letting you near that stove again.”  

“That was one time!”  

“One time too many,” he shot back, turning you around and guiding you towards the couch with an easy push. “Go sit.”  

You pouted as you flopped down onto the couch, but he ignored you, returning to the stove with a satisfied grin.

From your spot, you could see him moving gracefully around your kitchen, his every movement precise and confident. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his face as he hummed quietly in the kitchen, a peaceful smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t belong here, but somehow, it felt like he did.  

He glanced over his shoulder, catching you watching him. “Don’t give me that look,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement.  

“What look?”  

“The one that says you’re expecting me to feed you like one of my cats,” he teased, shaking his head.  

You laughed. “Well, am I wrong?”  

“Maybe not,” he admitted, flipping whatever was in the pan with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Whenever I start making food, they come running, wide-eyed and acting all innocent, like ‘Oh, what are you cooking there for me?’" he said mimicking their wide-eyed expressions with exaggerated innocence. "Sounds familiar?” 

“Hey!” you protested, but the warmth in his voice made it impossible to be mad.  

Finally, he brought over a plate and set it in front of you, sitting beside you. His smirk softened into something more tender as he nudged your knee. “Seriously, though,” he said, “just let me take care of you, okay? You’re cute when you’re sleepy and useless.”  

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled as you took a bite of the food he’d made. It was delicious, but nothing could compare to the man sitting beside you, his teasing smile melting into an affectionate gaze. 

masterlist

[livingund3ad]

[for the last time || в последний раз]

chapter warnings: n/a (damian just rambles a bit on how much he dislikes reader lol)

01. | 02. | » you are here | 04. | 05. | ... |

From the eyes of [ Robin ]

Roughly 20 hours before the events of 01.

The morning was dull and overcast, the pale light filtering through the manor’s tall windows with the insistence of a persistent fog. Damian descended the grand staircase with deliberate, measured steps, his sharp gaze sweeping over the pristine foyer before turning toward the dining room.

Breakfast was always a tedious affair, but tolerable with Alfred’s efficiency. And—most days—endurable by the girl’s silent presence. She would usually be seated already, picking at her plate with the nervousness of a bird, her eyes darting between her food and whatever book she’d brought to the table.

Today, the seat across from him was empty.

“Good Morning, Master Damian,” Alfred greeted, setting down a neatly folded napkin beside his plate. “Eggs, toast, and sliced fruit as usual. Would you prefer tea or coffee this morning?”

“Tea.” Damian slid into his seat, gaze flicking to the empty chair again. “Where’s the girl?”

“The Miss has not made an appearance yet.” Alfred’s brow furrowed as he poured the tea with steady precision. “Have you seen her this morning, sir?”

“No.”

Alfred’s fingers tightened slightly around the teapot before he resumed his usual elegance. “I shall send her a message, then. It’s unlike her to miss breakfast without a word.”

Damian scoffed, already cutting into his food. “Perhaps she finally decided to skip the unnecessary pretenses.”

Alfred’s look was a measured thing, the kind of quiet reproach Damian had grown adept at ignoring. “Very well, Master Damian.”

The room lapsed into silence, punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware against fine china. Alfred moved about with his usual efficiency, though there was a new stiffness to his movements, something Damian noted and promptly dismissed.

Minutes later, Grayson strolled in with all the gracelessness of a man who’d only just dragged himself from bed. His hair was tousled and he was already smiling, as if he expected the world to greet him with the same warmth he poured into it.

“Morning, Damian. Alfred.”

“Good morning, Master Richard,” Alfred replied, setting down another plate.

Damian didn’t bother with a greeting, his attention already straying from the room. He finished his meal quickly and rose from his seat, ignoring the curious glance Grayson shot his way.

“Going somewhere, Lil’ demon?” Dick asked around a mouthful of toast.

“My morning stroll,” Damian replied curtly, already turning toward the hallway. “Try not to do anything foolish while I’m gone.”

The hallways of Wayne Manor were vast and labyrinthine, but Damian knew them all by heart. It was a routine of sorts, to walk them every morning. Familiarity bred comfort, or perhaps it was more a matter of asserting his own existence within these elaborate, yet hollowed walls.

He passed the gallery, a corridor adorned with paintings and photographs from every era of the Wayne family. Damian rarely gave them much thought, but today his steps slowed, eyes narrowing as he studied the long line of frames.

One of the oldest photographs showed Grayson at twelve, smiling with infuriating exuberance beside his father, who looked decidedly uncomfortable with the forced cheer. She was there too, small and stiff at six years old, her posture awkward in a frilly dress that didn’t suit her.

Another photo showed the three of them, with Todd newly added to the lineup. The girl was probably nine, her eyes brighter with her lips curled up into something much genuine, more attuned to the cheerful energy Todd brought with him. Grayson had been fifteen then, already growing into his role as the dutiful eldest.

The progression continued down the line. Jason’s surly adolescence then absence, followed by the portraits with the appearance of Drake, Richard’ steady maturation, to then the doe-eye’s awkward transitions between childhood and whatever she was attempting to be now. And then Damian himself, glaring with unhidden suspicion in his first formal photograph, Bruce’s hand a heavy, yet not an unwelcome weight on his shoulder.

They were all there, framed and preserved like insects under glass.

But there was another photograph Damian hadn’t noticed before as it was placed far up the wall, it's dimensions small that it could easily be overlooked unless one had the stature of a person who'd gone through puberty. It was old, in black and white, the edges faded and worn with time, encased inside an intricate silver frame. It was a photograph of a woman standing alone, her hair elegantly styled, eyes alight with something Damian couldn’t quite define. Curiosity, perhaps. Or amusement.

The initials engraved in the plaque beneath the frame read.

M.W.

He frowned, tilting his head. The girl’s mother? That was unlikely. Her lineage was no secret within these walls, though it was a matter so rarely spoken of that it had taken Damian time to piece it all together. She was Bruce’s blood. His half-sister. Although he could never bring himself to call her that out loud.

Damian regarded the photograph again, his eyes narrowing as he studied the woman’s features with the meticulous scrutiny he applied to all things. The curve of her eyes felt familiar, their shape mirroring the girl’s in a way that left an uneasy knot in his chest.

But there was something wrong about them.

They were bright, yes, yet clouded—somehow. As if some unseen weight pressed upon them, shadowing the edges despite her composed smile. It was a gaze that seemed almost distracted, as though the woman were looking at something far beyond the camera’s lens.

For a moment, Damian felt something like recognition. A restlessness he couldn’t place, an unsettled thread that frayed at the seams of his thoughts. But he dismissed it as quickly as it came.

Whatever ghosts lingered in those eyes were of no consequence to him.

He scoffed, tension coiling in his shoulders. The resemblance, if it existed, was irrelevant. She was soft—fragile in a way that grated against everything he was taught to value. The others spoke of how she’d been indulged: by Grayson, occasionally by Todd before Drake took the mantle of Robin, and even by Pennyworth. Curiously, never by his father. He'd come to realize there was a void there—an absence of interest, as if the girl, his daughter, simply didn’t register.

He would not waste his thoughts on shadows.

She had never earned her place here. Not like he had.

With a huff, Damian turned away from the photograph, his brisk footsteps echoing through the empty hall. Whatever Alfred’s concerns were, they weren’t his. The girl would show herself when she decided to stop hiding away like a coward.

And if she didn’t, well—Damian couldn’t bring himself to care.

Taglist: @kneelforloki

[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part || Next part

Summary: You start to regain your senses. You wake up in the morning with a severe headache. You went downstairs to drink some water, but seeing In-ho made you thirsty for more.

" Do you fancy sitting down with me maybe? 'Cause you're all I need."

Warning: Headache, In-ho being In-ho, flirty conversation, mutual-pinning, tension, caring In-ho, teasing, grammatical error

A groan escaped your lips as you stirred awake, your head pounding like a drum. The morning light filtering through the window didn’t help, making you wince as you slowly sat up.

You blinked, looking around. This… wasn’t your place. The neatly arranged furniture, the crisp scent of cologne mixed with coffee—it all screamed In-ho.

The memories of last night were hazy, but you vaguely recalled him dragging you out of the club, lecturing you like some overprotective guardian. You probably passed out in his car, which would explain why you were now in his bed.

With another groan, you forced yourself up, rubbing your temples as you stumbled toward the kitchen, desperate for water.

And that’s when you saw him.

Standing by the stove, casually flipping something in a pan, was In-ho—completely shirtless.

Your sleep-ridden brain short-circuited.

His back was turned to you at first, giving you a perfect view of his toned shoulders, the strong muscles shifting beneath his skin as he moved.

His broad frame tapered into a lean waist, the defined ridges of his back leading down to where his dark trousers sat low on his hips. And when he finally turned, giving you a full view of his front—well, you almost forgot how to breathe.

His chest was sculpted, his abs sharply defined, each line accentuated by the soft glow of morning light. His biceps flexed slightly as he reached for a plate, completely unbothered by the way you were blatantly staring.

Your mouth had gone dry. Or maybe you were still drooling. Who knew?

In-ho’s lips curved into a smirk as he finally met your gaze. “ Morning, sleeping beauty.” He greeted smoothly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “ You’re up earlier than I expected.

You barely registered his words, too busy trying to not let your gaze drop to the dip of his V-line. But he noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed.

His smirk widened. “ Are you checking me out?”

You snapped out of your trance, face instantly heating up. “ W-What?! No!”

He chuckled, setting the spatula down as he leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest—only making his muscles more prominent. “ You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been staring for a while.”

You tore your gaze away, suddenly very interested in the kitchen tiles. “ Why are you even topless?” you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though your burning cheeks betrayed you.

He shrugged, acting nonchalant. “ I usually sleep shirtless. But if I knew you’d be so fascinated, I would’ve covered up.” His tone was laced with teasing, his grin downright smug.

You scowled, grabbing a glass to pour yourself some water, refusing to meet his gaze. “ You’re annoying.”

“ And you’re a terrible liar.” He shot back smoothly, grabbing a plate and sliding some food onto it.

" How are you feeling?" He asks, far too smug for your liking.

" Like death." You grumble, running a hand through your hair. " What happened last night?"

His smirk widens. " Oh, so you don’t remember?"

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You narrow your eyes. " Remember what exactly?"

He hums in mock thought, strolling over to lean against the arm of the couch, far too close for comfort. " Let’s see…You were very affectionate last night."

You blink. " Affectionate?"

" Mhmm." He tilts his head, pretending to think. " Clingy, even. Kept touching my face. Told me I had ‘pretty eyes’ at least a dozen times."

Your eyes widen in horror. " I did not."

" You did." He insists, grinning. " Oh, and at one point, you asked if my lips were really as soft as they looked."

You choke on air. " Lies!"

" Should I keep going?"

You scramble for memories, but all you get are hazy flashes—In-ho’s face close to yours, the warmth of his body, your own voice teasing him—Wait...

Oh. Oh no.

Your face burns as bits and pieces come back. You have been very touchy. You had definitely learned in too close, whispered things that sober you would never dare say.

And In-ho—being the composed, maddeningly controlled man he was—had somehow resisted.

You bury your face in your hands. " I hate myself."

In-ho chuckles. " Don’t worry. I handled it like a gentleman."

You peek at him through your fingers. " Meaning?"

He leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. " Meaning I almost lost my mind, but I have self-control—unlike someone."

You shove him, mortified. " Shut up!"

He just laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. " You know, if you ever want to test that theory again—"

" ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

This is never happening again.

...Right?

“ Now sit down and eat. You’ll need something in your stomach after all that drinking.” He spoke.

Despite your embarrassment, you obeyed, plopping onto a chair with a pout. But you still stole a few glances at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately for you, he always was.

The quiet clinking of utensils filled the air as you focused on your plate, hoping—praying—that In-ho would drop the teasing and let you eat in peace. Your headache was already bad enough without him smirking at you every time you dared to look at him.

But of course, that was wishful thinking.

“ So…��� In-ho leaned back in his chair, arms resting lazily on the table as he watched you with that sharp, unreadable gaze. “ Are you gonna tell me why you were at that club last night?”

You froze mid-bite, your fork hovering just inches from your mouth.

He didn’t miss it.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “ Because we both know you’re not the type to go to places like that.”

You swallowed, suddenly losing your appetite. He was right—you never really liked clubs. The loud music, the suffocating crowd, the strangers pressing too close—it wasn’t your scene. You barely even enjoyed social gatherings unless you had to be there.

So why did you go last night?

You played with your food, avoiding his gaze. “ I was just…with friends.” You muttered.

He scoffed. “ Yeah, I got that part. But that’s not the real reason, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a lump form in your throat. You didn’t want to admit it. It felt stupid. Weak.

But In-ho wasn’t the type to let things go, especially when it came to you. He leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. “ Y/n…what were you running from?”

Your fingers tightened around your fork. Running.

Maybe that was it.

" I like you, Jun-ho."

For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes, the ones you had trusted for so long, held something unfamiliar—hesitation. Regret.

" Y/n..." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

" I—I'm sorry."

Just two words, and it was over.

But in the end, it didn’t change a damn thing.

You exhaled sharply, setting your fork down. “ I just wanted to forget, okay?” You admitted, voice quieter than before. “ Just for one night.

In-ho didn’t say anything right away. He just watched you, his expression unreadable, his jaw ticking slightly as if he was processing your words. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“ You could’ve called me.” His voice wasn’t scolding, wasn’t angry—just… disappointed. And for some reason, that made you feel worse. “ You didn’t have to go to some random club and get wasted.”

You huffed, forcing a smirk. “ What, and have you lecture me all night instead?”

He shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “ No, idiot. I just wouldn’t have let you drink yourself into a mess.” He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table.

“ Next time you feel like running…just come to me instead.”

Your breath hitched slightly, his words catching you off guard.

It wasn’t just a casual offer—it was him. Letting you know, without saying it outright, that he was someone you could rely on. That no matter what, he’d be there.

And despite everything, despite the mess your life had become…maybe that was enough.

You stared at him, his words lingering in your mind.

Come to me instead.

There was something about the way he said it—so sure, so sincere—that made your heart do an unfamiliar flip in your chest. And before you could stop yourself, the question slipped from your lips.

“ Why do you care so much?”

In-ho, who had just taken a bite of his food, visibly tensed. Then, to your surprise, he choked.

He coughed violently, hurriedly reaching for his glass of water while you watched, half-concerned, half-amused. “ Oh my god.” You deadpanned. “ Are you okay?”

He waved a hand, still coughing as he gulped down the water. After a moment, he finally managed to breathe again, his face slightly flushed—whether from choking or your question, you weren’t sure.

“ W-What kind of question is that?” He stammered, avoiding your eyes as he set his glass down.

You raised an eyebrow. “ A pretty normal one, considering you keep acting like my personal bodyguard.”

He scoffed, regaining some of his composure. “ I’m not your bodyguard.”

“ No? Then why’d you drag me out of the club? Why’d you let me crash here? Why’d you cook me breakfast?” You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm as you gave him a knowing look. “ Sounds like someone cares.”

His jaw clenched. You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to come up with something—anything—that wouldn’t give away too much.

Finally, he exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “I just—look, someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “ You’re reckless, Y/n. And I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “ It’s just not safe for you to be wandering around drunk.”

You squinted at him. “ That’s not an answer.”

“ It’s the only one you’re getting.” He shot back, picking up his coffee as if that settled it.

You huffed, but didn’t press further. Maybe you were too hungover to keep digging. Maybe part of you didn’t want to hear the real answer. Because deep down, you already knew.

This wasn’t just about protecting you.

But for now, you let him have his excuse.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, watching him as he sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just fumbled his way through that excuse. Typical In-ho. Always composed, always in control—except, apparently, when it came to answering a simple question about you.

“ So, what?” You teased, tilting your head. “ I’m just a reckless idiot you feel obligated to look after?”

He didn’t even look at you. “ Something like that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “ Liar."

That made him glance at you, his expression unreadable. “ Excuse me?”

“ You’re lying.” You said bluntly, crossing your arms. “ If it was just an obligation, you wouldn’t have let me sleep in your bed, and you definitely wouldn’t be cooking me breakfast half-naked like some—” Your words cut off when your eyes involuntarily flickered to his chest again.

Bad move.

In-ho caught it instantly, the corner of his lips twitching upward. “ Like some what?” He prodded, setting his cup down and leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His tone had shifted—less defensive, more teasing.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm. “Like…I don’t know. A damn boyfriend or something.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you expected.

For a split second, something flickered in In-ho’s eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating smirk.

“ Well.” He said smoothly, “ If that’s how you see it, maybe you should start calling me that.”

Your eyes widened. “ What?!”

He chuckled, leaning back again, clearly enjoying your reaction. “ What? You said it, not me.”

Your face burned. “ That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

“ Mm-hmm.” He took another slow sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup like he was thoroughly entertained.

You scowled, grabbing a piece of toast and aggressively biting into it. “ You’re the worst."

He grinned. “ And yet, here you are, eating the breakfast I made for you.”

You had no comeback for that, so you just kept chewing, refusing to meet his gaze.

But as much as you wanted to act annoyed, a small part of you couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through your chest.

Because despite all his teasing, despite his frustrating deflections…

You knew he cared.

The rest of breakfast went by with playful jabs and smug glances from In-ho, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of another reaction. Instead, you focused on your food, willing the heat in your face to go away.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke again, his tone softer this time. “ So…are you feeling any better?”

You glanced up at him, chewing your toast a little slower. There was no teasing in his expression now—just quiet concern.

Your headache was still lingering, but it had dulled significantly. More than that, though, the weight in your chest from last night didn’t feel as suffocating anymore. Maybe it was the food, maybe it was the sleep, or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that he was here.

“ Yeah.” You admitted, looking down at your plate. “ Thanks…for everything.”

In-ho didn’t say anything right away. When you finally glanced up, he was watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place—like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if he should.

Then, as if deciding against it, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “ Don’t mention it. Just try not to get yourself into trouble again, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “ No promises.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “ Of course not.”

Despite the conversation from earlier, despite the teasing, despite everything—there was something comforting about this moment. Sitting across from him, sharing breakfast, feeling like—for once—you weren’t completely alone in all of this.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be.

...

After finishing breakfast, you stretched your arms and stood up, gathering the dishes. “ Alright, since you cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “ You? Doing the dishes?”

You shot him a glare. “ What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked. “ Nothing. Just…I don’t remember you being the type to do house chores willingly.”

You huffed, marching toward the sink. “ Well, there’s a first time for everything. Now go sit down and let me do this.”

But, of course, he didn’t listen. Instead, he stood up. “ I’ll help.”

“ I got it.”

“ I don’t trust you not to break a plate.”

You gasped, turning to him with an offended expression. “ Excuse me?!”

He chuckled, already grabbing a sponge and lathering it up with soap. “ Relax, just pass me the dishes.”

You muttered under your breath but didn’t argue further, handing him a plate while you rinsed another. The two of you worked in a surprisingly comfortable rhythm, standing side by side in the small kitchen.

Then, suddenly, you felt something soft touch your nose.

You blinked, pausing mid-rinse as you saw In-ho grinning at you, his finger still raised. He had just wiped a bit of soapy foam onto your nose.

“ In-ho.” You warned, scrunching your nose as you wiped it off.

His grin widened. “ That was cute.”

You groaned, turning back to the dishes—only for him to do it again. This time, he dotted bubbles on your cheek, making you scowl. “ Stop that.”

He laughed, clearly entertained. “ But you look adorable like this.”

You exhaled sharply, your patience thinning. Oh, so that’s how we’re playing this?

Without warning, you grabbed a handful of bubbles from the sink and smeared them all over his face.

In-ho froze.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, but when you saw his entire face covered in soap suds, you couldn’t help it. “ Oh my god.” You giggled. “ You look like—like a snowman!”

His lips parted slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what you had just done. Then, slowly, he wiped some foam from his chin and flicked it at you. “ Oh, you’re dead.”

You yelped, grabbing more bubbles and smearing them onto his hair this time. He groaned, trying to shake them off, but you only laughed harder. “ You actually look kinda adorable.”

“ Adorable?” He echoed, giving you an unimpressed look.

You grinned, still playfully wiping more bubbles onto his face. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. “ That’s enough.” He murmured.

You tried to pull back, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he took a step forward, and suddenly, your back was pressed against the sink.

Your breath hitched.

The mood shifted.

His grip on your wrist wasn’t forceful, but it was firm, his fingers warm against your skin. The laughter between you had faded, replaced by something thicker, heavier.

He was close—too close. Close enough that you could see the way his wet lashes framed his dark eyes, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

His gaze flickered down—to your lips.

Your heart pounded.

You swallowed hard, your own eyes locking onto his. Neither of you spoke. The only sound in the kitchen was the faint dripping of water from the sink, but even that felt distant compared to the pounding in your chest.

His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn’t step back. He just kept staring at you, like he was debating something.

Like he wanted something.

And you?

You weren’t sure if you wanted to stop him.

The air between you was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze setting every nerve in your body on edge. Then, without a word, In-ho leaned in—closer, closer—until his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was sudden, heated, and all-consuming.

A small gasp escaped you, but he didn’t give you a chance to process before he deepened it, his hand moving to cup your jaw, tilting your face up as he devoured you.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in, applying more pressure as your body melted against his. He let out a quiet groan at your response, his grip on your waist tightening as he pressed himself against you, caging you between him and the sink.

He kissed you like he had been holding himself back for too long. Like now that he finally had you, he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. His lips moved against yours with a desperate, unspoken hunger, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth, tasting, taking—claiming.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers trailed from your waist to your back, pulling you impossibly closer. The heat between you was intoxicating, making your mind hazy, your body burning with every movement.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, lost in him, in the way his lips molded so perfectly against yours, in the way his body pressed against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

All you knew was that this wasn’t enough.

You wanted more.

Until the realization hits you.

Panic grips your chest as you break the kiss, pushing against In-ho’s bare shoulders and stepping back. Your heart is still racing, your lips still tingling, but the overwhelming rush of guilt and confusion swallows everything whole.

“ This is wrong.” You whisper, shaking your head. “ This—this shouldn’t be happening.”

You turn on your heel, ready to leave—to run from the storm you just created. But before you can take another step, a firm hand wraps around your wrist.

In an instant, you’re spun back around and slammed against the wall. A small gasp escapes you as your back hits the cold surface, and before you can react, In-ho is right there, pressing into your space, his presence completely overwhelming.

His hands cage you in, one on your wrist, the other against the wall beside your head. His dark eyes burn into yours, intense and unyielding, making your stomach twist into knots.

You barely have time to protest before his lips crash onto yours again. This time, there’s no hesitation—only hunger, frustration, raw emotion bleeding into every second.

You push against him, trying to resist, but it only makes him tighten his grip, deepening the kiss as if he’s trying to prove something.

And for a second—just a second—you almost give in again.

But then reality strikes, and anger surges through you.

You finally manage to shove him back, your chest heaving, your face flushed with heat. Without thinking, you raise your hand to slap him, but he’s faster.

He catches your wrist midair, his fingers wrapping around it firmly but not harshly. A low chuckle escapes his lips, and that smug, infuriating smirk spreads across his face.

That smirk makes your blood boil.

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You seethe, struggling against his grip. “ Why are you doing this?”

In-ho doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his gaze flickering over your face, as if deciding whether to keep playing this game.

But then something shifts.

His smirk fades, his expression hardening. His grip on your wrist loosens—not enough to let you go, but just enough for you to feel the tension crackling in the air.

“ You really don’t see it, do you?” He mutters, his voice lower now, raw with something you can’t quite place.

You glare at him. “ See what?”

His jaw clenches. His patience—already worn thin—is slipping away entirely.

Then, finally, he exhales sharply and looks you dead in the eye.

“ I love you."

A/N: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho is finally dropping the "L" word. He finally moved the glass.

What's going to happen next?

What do you guys think?

See u in part 7. 😉

@alliyah-ll @maah-sama @colorwastaken @frontwomann @evyiione

[xo100]

Baking cookies pt. 3- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and Y/N confess their feelings, agreeing to take things slow, while Nina continues to brighten their lives.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1237

masterlist / community / request / previous ౨ৎ next

౨ৎ

The next morning felt different. Not in a drastic, world-shifting way, but in the small, quiet way things change when you finally admit how you feel about someone who’s been in your life for so long. The sun filtered through the curtains in Lando’s living room, casting soft shadows on the walls, and Y/N sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t thinking about the articles in front of her, though. Her mind was on Lando—and the kiss they shared the night before.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle way his hand had cradled hers. The memory made her heart skip a beat, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Y/N’s head snapped up at the sound of Lando’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his hair still messy from sleep. He looked comfortable in a worn T-shirt and sweats, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly at the memory of last night.

Lando pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her, dropping into the chair across the table. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward with that same playful glint in his eyes that Y/N had seen countless times—but now, it felt different. There was something deeper behind it.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Good,” Y/N answered, smiling. “You?”

“Best I’ve slept in a while,” Lando replied, his gaze locked on hers.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their newfound connection hanging in the air. It was comfortable, but there was a spark between them, something quietly electric that hadn’t been there before.

But before they could say anything more, the familiar sound of little feet running down the stairs interrupted them.

“Daddy! Auntie Y/N!” Nina’s voice called out as she bounced into the kitchen, her curly hair wild and her face full of excitement. “I’m hungry!”

Y/N and Lando exchanged a quick glance before they both burst into laughter. The moment was broken, but in the best way—Nina always had that effect.

“What’s on the menu today, munchkin?” Lando asked, ruffling Nina’s hair as she climbed onto Y/N’s lap.

“Pancakes!” Nina declared with a big grin.

Y/N smiled, hugging Nina tightly. “Pancakes, huh? I think we can make that happen.”

“Yay!” Nina clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on Y/N’s lap.

Lando got up from his chair, heading toward the fridge. “Alright, team pancake, let’s get to work.”

As Lando started gathering ingredients, Y/N helped Nina down from her lap, and together, they got to work in the kitchen. It was something they had done countless times before, but this time felt different. Everything did.

The three of them moved around the kitchen with ease, like a well-practiced routine. Nina poured the flour, Y/N mixed the batter, and Lando flipped the pancakes, tossing in an extra bit of flair for Nina, who giggled with every flip.

At one point, Lando leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and teasing. “You know, I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well,” Lando said, holding up a pancake with a lopsided heart shape in the middle, “I’m starting to get pretty good at these.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, nudging him playfully. “Sure you are.”

They shared another quiet moment of laughter, but this time, there was an undeniable tenderness in it. Lando’s hand brushed against Y/N’s as he passed her a plate, and she felt that same warmth flood her chest. The feeling that this was right, that they were right.

-

Once breakfast was done, the three of them sat at the table together, with Nina happily munching on her pancakes while talking animatedly about her day ahead. Lando and Y/N exchanged glances across the table, both of them silently reveling in the ease of this moment. It was just the three of them, but it felt like more.

After breakfast, Lando cleared the table while Y/N helped Nina get ready for the day. As they moved through their morning routine, the unspoken understanding between Lando and Y/N grew. They didn’t need to say anything just yet—there was comfort in the way they worked together, the natural way they fit into each other’s lives.

Once Nina was dressed and ready to play in the garden, Y/N found herself back in the living room, straightening up a few toys Nina had left scattered around. Lando appeared beside her, leaning against the couch as he watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Y/N…” His voice was softer now, more serious.

She turned to face him, her heart beating a little faster. “Yeah?”

Lando stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take hers. “I’ve been thinking about us. About what this means.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes searching his. “Me too.”

“I know we haven’t really talked about it yet, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Lando said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Because this? This feels like more than just a moment.”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling at his words. “It is more. It’s everything.”

Lando’s smile was soft but filled with so much emotion that it made Y/N’s chest ache. “I don’t want to rush anything, but… I want this. I want us.”

Y/N took a step closer, her free hand reaching up to rest against his chest. “I want that too, Lando. I want us to figure this out together.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. But there wasn’t any. Y/N was sure of this, sure of them.

“You know, Nina adores you,” Lando said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “She’s always asking when you’ll come over. And seeing the two of you together… It makes me realize how lucky I am.”

Y/N’s heart melted at his words. She had always loved Nina as if she were her own, and hearing Lando say those things only deepened her feelings for him. “I adore her too, Lando. And I… I adore you.”

His eyes softened, and before Y/N could say anything more, Lando leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, but this time there was more behind it. The promise of something new, something real.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “We’ll take it slow,” she whispered. “For Nina. For us.”

Lando nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah, slow sounds perfect.”

Just as they were about to kiss again, a loud crash echoed from the garden, followed by Nina’s triumphant shout. “I did it!”

Y/N and Lando both burst into laughter, stepping apart as they looked out the window to see Nina standing proudly next to a stack of garden toys she had knocked over.

“We’d better go check on our little troublemaker,” Lando said with a grin, taking Y/N’s hand as they headed outside together.

As they walked into the garden, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something beautiful. A new chapter for all three of them.

And it was exactly where she wanted to be.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also I’ve started a community feel free to join! Currently working on part 4! If you want to be tagged leave it in the comments!

Also currently heartbroken by Daniel leaving f1💔

*:･ﾟtags; @barcelonaloverf1life @fanficweasley @obxstiles @missnxthingg @trisharee @myescapefromthislife

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Your boss +1

orc!boss x curvy!human!Reader Good to know: mention of sex, nudity

Previously: [orc] your boss [orc] your boss +1

Summary: You spend the last hours of the year with your boss.

A/N: This is my last story for 2024. 🎉 I want to say thank you for all your kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. I hope you will stay with me in 2025 and Happy New Year! 🎆🥳

The air is thick and heavy, carrying the unmistakable scent of sweat and sex. The heady musk clings to your damp skin, filling your senses with every breath as a reminder of what just happened. Your legs, still sprawled wide and nestled in the tangled mess of blankets, tremble uncontrollably with the fading echoes of your climax. Every inch of your body is alive, tingling as if each nerve ending has been set ablaze. You feel raw and overwhelmed. Your chest rises and falls in shaky, shallow breaths. Each inhale catches slightly as you try to steady yourself and the still thrumming beat of your heart.

“Are you alive?” The orc’s deep, gravelly voice rolls through the quiet room. The deep rumble wraps around you like a blanket, sinking against your every curve and making you quiver all over again.

“Barely,” you murmur, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Your gaze follows his towering, muscular form as he crosses the room. He is bare under the dim light of the city that filters through the large windows. The amber glow illuminates the hard plates of his board chest and every powerful line of his body. His cock, soft and spent, bobs between his thighs with each step he takes, and you can't help but stare.

"A picture would last longer," he teases with a lopsided grin.

When he climbs back onto the bed, the mattress dips under his weight. There is wet cloth in his hand, and you shiver even before you feel it. He leans forward, lowering the rag toward your still-sensitive heat. The soft press of the fabric against your tender skin is overwhelming, and a cry slips from your lips as your hips jerk, arching into his hand.

“Hey!” you exclaim, but the orc only leans over. His rough lips find their path across your chest. His mouth trails slowly between your breasts as he works his way up until he finally meets yours in a slow, calming kiss.

"Maybe there’s another round in you?" he teases.

“Oh, no way,” you laugh breathlessly as you push his head away. “One more, and you really will kill me.”

"That would be a tragedy,” the orc sighs with mock regret, his eyes glinting with humor. He gives one last, gentle wipe between your thighs, letting the rag soak up the final remnants of his handiwork, then tosses it aside.

But even as he leans back, his attention doesn’t waver. His eyes roam slowly over your body. He takes in the sight of you, lingering on the peaks of your hard nipples, the rolls of your stomach, and the inviting curve of your hips. His gaze drifts lower to the fullness of your thighs and finally rests on the swollen, glistening flesh between them. He looks at you as if you are the finest work of art he’s ever laid eyes on, and he can't wait to worship you again. Your heart races under the intensity of his admiration, and every inch of your skin tingles.

"I will never let you go out of my bed," he murmurs, settling down beside you. His firm, solid frame presses against your side, his legs tangling with yours, and in one smooth motion, he rolls you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His large hand slides down to your backside, and you can feel the roughness of his fingertips as they caress the tender skin there. He draws slow circles over the skin he spanked not long ago.

“How will I work then?” you ask, snuggling closer and pressing your face against him. The hair covering his chest is soft under your still-flushed cheek.

“Why would you do that?” the orc grumbles.

“How else would you see me in my skirts all day?” you reason with a mischievous smile creeping onto your lips.

He pauses, considering, then lets out a deep, thoughtful sigh. “Ah, yes. Those tight skirts of yours…” His hand stops its gentle caresses as if he's deep in contemplation, and then, a grin spreads across his face. “Fine. You can keep being my assistant."

"Good," you say, laughing softly as his arms hold you just a little tighter.

For a long while, neither of you speak. You simply bask in the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his chest under you. His hand, ever so gentle, continues its slow exploration. First, it drifts down to your bottom, then glides up across your spine in smooth, lingering strokes.

Time seems to stretch, the world outside fading away as the two of you exist in this calm, content bubble.

Then, the night sky suddenly bursts into life. The distant crackle of fireworks fills the air, followed by bright flashes of color that illuminate the room. You both turn toward the window, where the dark sky is set ablaze with brilliant hues. Blues, reds, and golds explode above the buildings, lighting up the night before fading into the darkness just as quickly as they appeared.

"It's midnight," you hum softly, the words slipping out in a whisper as you gaze out at the fading fireworks.

"Hm," the orc murmurs in response, shifting you slightly in his arms just enough to look down at you. "Happy New Year."

You crane your neck, your breath mingling with his as you whisper, "Happy New Year." The words fan over his lips before they meet them in a deep, all-consuming kiss.

[buckysouvenir]

in the hex, episode 1: a perfect life

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n summary: Y/N, a witch with no memory of her true nature, lives a seemingly perfect life with her husband, Bucky Barnes, in a quiet, idyllic 1950s town. Everything seems picture-perfect—Y/N and Bucky are a deeply loving couple, content in their everyday routine. They share playful moments, enjoy simple pleasures, and have a deep connection that feels unshakable. Their life is peaceful, with no hint of anything out of the ordinary. However, things aren’t what they seem. authors note: i'm so happy to be finally posting this!

in the hex masterlist | next episode

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

The sun rises over the quiet little town, golden light filtering through the lace-trimmed curtains of a cozy home. The air smells of fresh coffee and buttery pancakes, and a soft tune drifts from the vintage radio sitting on the kitchen counter.

Y/N hums along to the melody as she flips a pancake, dressed in a pastel polka-dot dress, her hair curled into soft waves. She doesn’t think about why she woke up feeling content. She doesn’t question why this life feels so… right.

A yawn echoes from the hallway, followed by the slow shuffle of bare feet on hardwood.

“Doll, do you always wake up this early?”

Bucky leans against the doorway, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair is slightly messy, like he just rolled out of bed. He’s wearing a white undershirt and navy pajama pants, the fabric clinging to his broad frame. But something is different.

His left arm.

It looks completely normal—flesh and bone, just like his right one.

Y/N doesn’t think twice about it.

“Somebody has to make sure you don’t leave the house without eating,” she teases, flashing him a smile as she plates the last pancake.

Bucky smirks as he crosses the kitchen in a few lazy strides, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Mm, you smell nice,” he murmurs against her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Almost makes me wanna stay home all day.”

She laughs, elbowing him lightly. “Sit down, you flirt. Breakfast is ready.”

Bucky doesn’t let go right away. He just holds her there for a second, swaying them both slightly in the warmth of the kitchen. Then, with a content sigh, he finally lets her go and takes a seat at the small dining table.

Y/N sets a plate in front of him and pours him a cup of coffee just the way he likes it—two sugars, no cream. Bucky watches her with a small smile, like he’s memorizing every movement.

“What would I do without you?” he muses, cutting into his pancakes.

“You’d starve,” Y/N replies without missing a beat.

Bucky chuckles. “Can’t argue with that.” He takes a bite, humming in approval. “You make the best pancakes, doll. I’m tellin’ ya, if I wasn’t already married to you, I’d have to marry you for these alone.”

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh. “And here I thought you married me for my charm and good looks.”

“That too,” he says, winking. “But the pancakes definitely sealed the deal.”

They eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio filling the space with soft music.

Then, a knock at the door.

Y/N wipes her hands on a kitchen towel before heading to the front door. When she opens it, a familiar redhead beams at her.

“Good morning, neighbor!”

Wanda Maximoff stands on the porch, holding a covered dish. She’s wearing a floral dress, her hair pinned back in soft curls. Next to her, Vision stands in a neatly pressed sweater vest and slacks, offering a polite nod.

“Wanda! Vision! What a lovely surprise,” Y/N greets, stepping aside. “Come in!”

Wanda hands her the dish with a warm smile. “Just a little something I baked this morning. Apple pie, fresh from the oven.”

“Oh, Wanda, you’re too sweet. You didn’t have to—”

“Nonsense! What are friends for?” Wanda waves off the protest, stepping inside. “Besides, I had a feeling Bucky would appreciate a good homemade pie.”

At the table, Bucky perks up. “Pie?”

Vision chuckles as he takes a seat across from him. “I believe you have just been bribed.”

Wanda grins. “Guilty.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly as she sets the pie on the counter. “Well, in that case, coffee for everyone?”

As she moves to pour the drinks, she catches Wanda’s gaze. For a split second, something flickers behind her green eyes—something unreadable. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the same warm, friendly expression.

Y/N blinks. She must’ve imagined it.

Right?

#taglist: @whisperingashgarden

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Experiment: Omega | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Drabble - 788 words

You escape the HYDRA facility that created you just to be chased through the night. A mysterious Alpha finds you hiding but is he your salvation? Or your ruin?

Warnings: 18+ because HYDRA, reference to experimentation, omegaverse dynamics. If you think you've read this before, no you haven't (yes you probably have this is a repost)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The wind howled around you and the rain lashed against your face like a thousand pin pricks. Every branch you ran past seemed to grab and tear at you, your already ragged clothes shredding from your frame with each frightened stride into the darkness of the woods. 

Behind you, you could hear the baying of the dogs and the tell tale crack of trees and roots as the Jeeps mobilised. 

All you needed was a chance, a place to hide. You stopped. Taking in as much of the landscape as you could through the gloom of the trees and the water dripping into your eyes. Perhaps there was a fallen tree or hollow you could hide in? Either way you’d need to keep moving, the shouts of the guards calling your name grew ever closer.

Your heart thumped wildly in your ears, your vision blurred and then, suddenly. The rain stopped, the howling stopped, and you were being dragged backwards. Your bare feet slid in the mud and then hit dry rock, your toes barked against the rough surface and you yelped in pain until you came to a stop. A large palm covered your mouth, the thumb hooked over your nose, while your assailant’s left arm remained wrapped around your waist solid and cold.

“Be quiet.” He hissed behind you, his voice gravelly. 

You attempted to speak, to ask who he was, but he only pressed his hand down harder. 

“If you know what’s good for you — be quiet.” 

He was careful to keep his voice low, so that his words wouldn’t echo as they filtered into the back of the cave. He moved you both so that you were against the wall, away from any line of sight should your captors come looking, and you noticed that his left hand was nothing like the right. Instead of skin he had layers of silver metal, over laid like scales in some places, and shifting with his own movements like muscles beneath the skin. 

Outside of the cave voices rose and fell, trailing away until all you could hear was the rain and the wind and the sound of your heart beat. 

The man let you go, and you felt cold without his body heat behind you, but now you could spin and face him. He was tall, leaning slightly to one side with the weight of the metal plates that seemed to reach up under a thick, black leather jacket that stretched over his broad shoulders and chest. Dark tendrils of hair crept over his forehead and cheeks, and a black mask that covered the lower half of his face. Above it his eyes were strikingly blue, handsome even, despite his dishevelled appearance.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and cupped your face gently, rubbing his thumb over the delicate round of your cheek and with the other pulled down his mask to reveal stubbled cheeks and full pink lips. “I’m sorry that I had to be rough, they can’t catch us here.” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quiet, I don’t want to go back.” You said, firmly. 

But the man was distracted, bending down to rub his nose where your neck met your shoulder, “so they did it then.” His voice was a deep growl, “you’re an omega.” You felt his teeth graze your skin and a shudder of pleasure and pain rippled down your spine. 

“Yes, but I don’t know why. They’ve never brought anyone for me to be mated with.”

Something deep inside of you preened as the man kissed up your neck and nuzzled behind your ear, pressing himself against you, a feeling that you’d desired since they’d finished their last round of experiments on you. You should have pushed him away, but it felt so good, so right to be held like this and you’d been so cold and so alone in your cell. Your body called out to his, dipping and bending, allowing him to manhandle you. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, backing you against the cold wall of the cave. Outside the rain subsided slightly, electricity filling the air. 

“I don’t remember, they just call me, Omega.” A flash of lightning cut through the cave, casting the man into silhouette, the cut of his cheekbones and the breadth of his body in stark relief. 

He hummed in answer, both hands now feeling the dip of your waist and the fullness of your hips and thighs before lifting you with ease and holding you against the cave wall with his hips. 

“What should I call you?” You asked, thunder rumbling outside. 

The man pulled back slightly, an animalistic glint in his blue grey eyes. “You can call me, Alpha.” 

[clarkeysbedchem]

I think you’re everything I ever wanted | part two

part one | part three

summary: the day after the breakup, will and the reader fall into an overly comfortable situation

masterlist | main masterlist

You stirred the next morning; the glow of the Monegasque sun dripped through the lace curtains spilling over your frame that was sprawled out with the duvet half draped over you. A tired grumbled passed your lips as you stretched out, hand searching the other side of the bed for a warm body, but it wasn’t there.

You pried your eyes open head turning to the side that once occupied Will, and your heart dropped. What did you expect? Of course, he’d regret it. You felt so foolish for thinking that even for a second that Will meant any of it. The compliments he showered on you, the protection he offered, the comfort he provided.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself off the bed slowly building the confidence to make your way to the living room. You paced by the door hands trembling at your side before you reached for the handle pulling it open. You expected silence as you walked down the small corridor but instead you could hear a faint hum and low music.

Will whipped around at the sound of your feet hitting the hard floor, his eyes bright and smile wide, “Good morning,” his voice still rough with sleep, “Uh, breakfast is on the counter. Croissants, fruits, toast, I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I just got a bit of everything.”

A smile played on the corners of your lips and your heart ached in a way you had never felt before. He ushered you over to the counter, “Come on, let’s eat, got a long day a head of us.”

Will waltzed over to you, his hands spread over your hips like it was the most natural thing for him, but the butterflies that erupted in your stomach told a different story. He you around in his hold, leading you to the kitchen. You felt warm, like that feeling they describe in the movies when you get all mushy inside.

You leaned back into the counter as Will handed you a mug of coffee, the heat radiating through the cup and spreading through your hands, “Your suitcase is in the living room by the way, d’know if you saw.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled, sipping your coffee, a sigh leaving your mouth as the bitter liquid trickled down your throat, “Have you, um, spoken to anyone?”

“I spoke to Arthur this morning,” He nodded, handing you a plate of food, “He just asked if you were okay, I said you were.”

“Bold.” Your eyes twinkled slightly, biting into a strawberry as Will chuckled.

“Seemed pretty okay to me.”

Your jaw slacked with a shocked laugh leaving your lips, “Don’t get too cocky, William.”

“It’s hard not too,” He smirked, leaning down his lips ghosting your ear, “especially when I have a pretty girl crawling into my bed.”

Your breath shook, turning your head looking him in the eyes as your lips brushed for a moment, then Will pulled away like nothing had happened leaving for his room. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you giggled, a giddy feeling swirling in your chest watching the space where Will had been standing.

The sounds of bird songs filtered in through the open window mixing with the rhythm playing through your phone as you danced in time with the music. As you dragged your straighteners down the last strand of hair, Will appeared in the doorway leaning against as he locked eyes with you through the mirror. A small smile played on your lips, “Everything okay?”

Will nodded crossing his arms over his chest, “Just checking on you.”

“I’m okay,” You nodded, a smiling brightly at him as you brushed your finger through your hair, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

You pursed your lips as the words left your mouth and you shook your head, “Uh, lemme take that back.”

Will chuckled softly, “You almost ready? We gotta leave in like ten minutes.”

You spun on your heel now fully facing him, “All ready.”

A fond smile found its way onto Will face as you basked in the glow of the sun and warm lights, “You look nice,” He complimented, draping his arm over your shoulder casually, pulling you close to his side.

It was strange to Will that this felt normal. The entirety of last night and this morning filled with a quiet domesticity that was just right, like you slotted perfectly into the little life he had made for himself and now a part of his didn’t want you to go.

His hand brushed over your shoulder moving your hair gently as his long fingers slid under the sleeve of your shirt, “This is cute.”

Your cheeks burned at the contact as a coy smile graced your lips, “Thank you. You look nice too.”

“Thank you, doll,” He smirked, watching your eyes drift over his outfit linger on his hands for a breath, “C’mon.”

The adrenaline and excitement from the race had started to leave your system as you curled into a silent daze on the villa sofa. Your eyes fluttering open and shut trying to fight it as you put your focus on the film Will had picked out, but it was a lot more difficult than you had anticipated as Will’s hands massaged into your sore calves.

The pressure of his hands hit right where you needed pulling a small moan from your lips, and Will’s hands paused their movements. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment burying your face into the cushion under your head mumbling, “Sorry.”

Will’s hands repeated his previous motion and this time you bit down on your lips catching your sounds, “Does that feel good?”

You hummed in response, turning your head feeling his eyes burning into your temple, “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He grumbled, his hands looping under your knees pulling you into his lap with ease, “Don’t need to apologise for anything with me.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Shit.” You mumbled, making Will laugh slightly.

His hand cupped your neck gently, thumb travelling along the angle of your jaw. Then his thumb pressed onto your bottom lip pulling it down, your breath hitch in your chest.

His eyes focused soley on your lips watching as they parted slightly, and Will took it upon himself to press further into them. Without a rational thought in your head, your lips opened wider taking his thumb between them as you hallowed your cheeks.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered, enraptured by the sight of you, “You might the death of me.”

Your tongue swirled around his thumb, never once breaking the heated eye contact between. The action went straight to Will’s head making him almost lose control, but he pulled his thumb out with a pop, and you pouted.

“Trust me pet, I’d love nothing more for you to do more but I don’t think now is the right time.”

It made sense, of course it did. You were fresh out of a long-term relationship, but that didn’t stop every image and fantasy from filling your head anytime you looked at Will, “I know.”

He nodded, dropping his hand to your hip tapping it twice ducking his head close to your ear, “I can’t promise that next time I’ll stop though.”

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yourusername ngl i could run faster then them cars

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bambinobecky beauty, show stopping, breathtaking

┃ yourusername im in love with you

userone literal angel

usertwo no AB pictures??? hmmm 🤔

theburntchip course we’ll have a look

┃ yourusername diva down 😓

userthree the first dress is stun ❤️‍🩹

willne poser

┃ yourusername piss off

userfour no AB comment… bros fumbled

sabinablair_ beauty 🥰

┃ yourusername lysm my girl 😘

[w1w2]

could you write super shy and quiet reader meeting the twice members as minas girlfriend?

Shy Hearts and Warm Smiles

Myoui Mina x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 4,5k

Synopsis: Mina invites her shy and reserved girlfriend, Y/N, to meet the members of Twice at a cozy dinner hosted by Jeongyeon.

Notes: Here you go Anon🫶🏻 Happy New Year!

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The soft hum of the city filtered through the half open window of Mina’s cozy apartment, mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves from the park below. Golden sunlight spilled across the room in lazy streaks, catching on the small trinkets Mina had collected from her travels, tiny glass figurines on the windowsill, a framed polaroid of the ocean, and a delicate ceramic vase holding fresh daisies.

The air was warm and inviting, carrying the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sweetness of vanilla candles Mina loved to light in the mornings. The quiet atmosphere felt like a world of its own, tucked away from the bustle outside.

Y/N sat cross legged on the couch, her fingers curled around a warm ceramic mug that seemed to heat her from the inside out. Her favorite sweater, oversized and soft, slipped slightly off one shoulder, exposing a delicate curve of skin. Her gaze lingered on the window, where sunlight glinted off distant rooftops, her thoughts a quiet swirl of reflection. She was always like this in the mornings, calm, introspective, and content in the silence.

From the kitchen, the faint clink of dishes signaled Mina’s presence. Her movements were deliberate, almost rhythmic, as if choreographed to match the serene mood of the morning. When she appeared in the doorway, carrying a small plate of toast and fruit, Y/N’s lips curled into a faint smile, her heart softening at the sight. Mina had that effect on her, a quiet gravity that pulled her into the moment.

Mina set the plate down on the coffee table with a soft clatter, then slid onto the couch beside Y/N. She tucked her legs neatly beneath her, her movements as graceful as a ballet, and leaned slightly toward Y/N. The sunlight illuminated her delicate features, her luminous skin, her expressive doe eyes, and the curve of her gentle smile.

“Good morning,” Mina murmured, her voice a blend of softness and warmth. She reached out to brush a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for a moment in a small, affectionate gesture.

“Morning,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a sweetness that made Mina’s smile grow. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching Mina’s as if sensing there was something more to this morning than toast and coffee.

Mina leaned forward just a bit, resting her hands lightly on the couch cushions. “Jeongyeon’s hosting a dinner tonight,” she began, her tone gentle but tinged with anticipation. “At her new house. Everyone’s going to be there. I thought it’d be a nice chance for you to meet the others.”

The words settled in the air between them, and Y/N froze. Her fingers tightened around her mug, as if anchoring herself. Her eyes widened slightly, betraying the nervous flutter in her chest. “Oh… I don’t know,” she said hesitantly, her voice barely audible. “Meeting everyone at once… It sounds… overwhelming.”

Mina immediately noticed the tension in Y/N’s shoulders, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. Without hesitation, she reached out, her hand resting gently on Y/N’s knee. Her touch was light, reassuring, yet firm enough to draw Y/N’s attention.

“I know it’s a lot,” Mina said softly, her gaze steady and calm. Her tone held no pressure, only an invitation wrapped in understanding. “But I want them to meet you. They’ve been so curious about you, and… I want you to be part of this part of my life.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed a light pink under Mina’s gaze, her heart skipping at the sincerity in her words. Mina’s presence was like a balm, soothing the anxious thoughts that had already begun to spiral. “I’m just… not good at this kind of thing,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling slightly as she met Mina’s eyes.

Mina’s smile softened, her expression shifting into something playful and sweet. She leaned in, her nose brushing Y/N’s in a gentle eskimo kiss that sent a ripple of warmth through Y/N’s chest. “You don’t have to do anything but be yourself,” Mina murmured. “And if it gets too much, just squeeze my hand. I’ll be right there the whole time, okay?”

Y/N stared at her for a moment, Mina’s words wrapping around her like a blanket. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she gave a small, almost shy nod. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of newfound courage. “For you.”

Mina beamed, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she tucked a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear once more. “That’s my girl,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple before settling back against the couch, her hand still resting lightly on Y/N’s knee.

In that moment, Y/N realized that as daunting as the evening seemed, Mina’s quiet strength and unwavering support made it all feel a little more possible.

As Y/N quietly sipped her coffee, her thoughts drifted to how it all began.

She’d met Mina during one of her rare ventures out with friends. It was a quiet café, one of Mina’s favorite haunts, and Y/N had been tucked into a corner, sketching absentmindedly in her notebook. She hadn’t noticed Mina watching her from across the room, captivated by the way Y/N’s shy smile lit up when her friends teased her gently.

It was Mina who approached her first, her calm confidence breaking through Y/N’s initial hesitation. Their conversation had started slow, both of them naturally reserved, but as the minutes stretched into hours, Y/N found herself opening up in ways she hadn’t with anyone else.

What started as quiet coffee dates turned into walks through parks, late night talks under city lights, and shared moments of unspoken understanding. Mina’s nurturing warmth drew Y/N out of her shell, while Y/N’s thoughtful presence grounded Mina, giving her a safe space to simply be.

Y/N smiled faintly at the memory, her heart swelling with affection. Mina had a way of making the world feel less daunting, her gentle strength a constant source of comfort.

And now, Mina wanted to share her world, her group, her family with Y/N.

The thought was intimidating, but as Mina nudged her playfully, offering her another piece of toast, Y/N realized she couldn’t say no.

The car pulled up to Jeongyeon’s new house, nestled in a quiet neighborhood that blended modern sophistication with homey charm. From the outside, the house stood proud with sleek, minimalist lines, a warm-toned wooden façade, and large windows that reflected the twilight sky. Fairy lights adorned the front porch, casting a soft, welcoming glow that contrasted with the crisp evening air.

As Mina parked, Y/N stared at the house, her nerves bubbling to the surface. Her fingers, already clasped in Mina’s hand, tightened slightly. Mina gave her a reassuring squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s knuckles.

“It’s going to be fine,” Mina said softly, her calm tone steadying Y/N. “Just stay close to me. They’re going to love you.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart was racing. She followed Mina up the short path to the front door, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out as Mina rang the doorbell.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Jeongyeon with an easygoing grin. Her casual outfit, a relaxed sweater and jeans, matched the laid-back vibe of the house. “Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with warmth as she pulled Mina into a quick hug. Then her gaze shifted to Y/N.

“And this must be the famous Y/N,” Jeongyeon said with a teasing smirk, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Mina’s been talking nonstop about you.”

Y/N flushed, a shy smile creeping onto her face. “H-Hi,” she stammered softly, clinging to Mina’s hand as if it were a lifeline.

“Come in, come in,” Jeongyeon said, stepping aside to let them in. The interior of the house reflected Jeongyeon’s personality perfectly, cozy yet modern, with a mix of clean lines and inviting textures. Soft rugs and throw blankets softened the sleek furniture, and personal touches like framed photos and a guitar propped in the corner added warmth to the space.

As they stepped into the living room, the energy of the Twice members hit Y/N like a wave. The group was gathered around a large sectional couch, their laughter filling the space. The smell of home cooked food wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of Jeongyeon’s signature sandalwood candles.

“Yah, Mina! Finally, you’re here!” Nayeon called, her bright voice carrying over the group’s chatter. She stood and crossed the room quickly, her confident stride and radiant smile making Y/N instinctively shrink back a little.

“So, this is the girlfriend!” Nayeon said dramatically, hands on her hips as she looked Y/N up and down with an exaggerated, playful squint. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Nayeon was already grinning. “Don’t look so nervous. I don’t bite. Mina’s taste is impeccable, obviously.”

Y/N blinked, unsure whether to laugh or retreat, but Mina’s soft chuckle beside her eased the tension.

“Nayeon, don’t scare her,” Jihyo said, appearing beside them with her signature warmth. She gave Nayeon a light swat on the shoulder before turning to Y/N. “Hi, I’m Jihyo,” she said, pulling Y/N into a gentle hug. Her embrace felt like a cocoon of reassurance, and Y/N couldn’t help but relax slightly. “We’ve all been looking forward to meeting you. Thank you for coming.”

Y/N managed a shy smile. “T-Thank you for having me,” she said softly.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Dahyun quipped, appearing with a sly grin. “She’s only been looking forward to meeting you because she needs someone else to babysit Nayeon for a change.”

“I heard that!” Nayeon called from the couch, pretending to glare.

Dahyun winked at Y/N. “See? You’re already fitting in.” She gestured grandly toward the couch. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone properly.”

As Mina led her further into the room, Y/N’s nerves began to settle. Dahyun’s silly commentary drew a soft giggle from her, and Jihyo’s steady presence felt like an anchor amidst the group’s playful chaos.

From the corner of her eye, Mina watched Y/N carefully. Her chest swelled with pride as Y/N’s shy smile began to peek through more often. This was only the beginning of the evening, but Mina was already certain, it was going to be a night to remember.

The dining table was set beautifully, a mix of casual and elegant that mirrored Jeongyeon’s personality. The centerpiece, a simple arrangement of fresh flowers, was flanked by a variety of dishes, from hearty Korean stews to colorful side dishes. The soft glow of overhead lights made the room feel cozy, though to Y/N, the lively energy felt a little overwhelming.

The members had gathered around the table, their chatter and laughter filling the space as they passed plates and shared jokes. Y/N sat beside Mina, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her shoulders slightly hunched as she tried to take everything in.

“Eat, eat!” Momo said enthusiastically, her chopsticks already diving into the nearest dish. “You’ve gotta try this. Jeongyeon’s mom made it, amazing as always.”

As the conversation ebbed and flowed around her, Y/N felt a pang of anxiety. The lively atmosphere, though warm, was far outside her comfort zone. She cast a glance at Mina, her quiet unease clear in her eyes.

Mina immediately noticed. Without saying a word, she placed her hand on Y/N’s knee under the table, her thumb brushing lightly in soothing circles. Y/N looked up at her, meeting Mina’s calm, steady gaze. Mina’s smile was soft, encouraging, and just like that, Y/N felt her heartbeat slow a little.

“Try this,” Momo said, leaning over to place an extra serving of japchae on Y/N’s plate. “It’s one of my favorites. Oh, and that one too!” She added a piece of fried chicken, her enthusiasm infectious.

“Thank you,” Y/N said shyly, her voice barely audible over the din. She took a tentative bite and smiled, the flavors comforting and familiar.

“See? Good food fixes everything,” Momo said with a grin.

Sana, sitting across from Y/N, leaned forward with a playful glint in her eyes. “By the way, I love your sweater,” she said, her voice dripping with sincerity. “It’s so cute, and it suits you perfectly! Mina has such good taste, obviously.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep pink as she murmured, “Thank you.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re adorable!” Sana gushed, clasping her hands dramatically. “Mina, how did you manage to find someone so precious?”

“She found me,” Mina replied simply, a proud smile tugging at her lips.

Jeongyeon, sensing Y/N’s growing discomfort at all the attention, jumped in with her usual wit. “Okay, Sana, let the poor girl breathe,” she teased. Then, turning to Y/N, she added with a smirk, “Don’t worry, they’re always like this. You’ll get used to it, or you’ll learn how to tune them out, like I do.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Y/N found herself smiling, even letting out a quiet laugh of her own. Jeongyeon winked at her. “See? You’re already a pro.”

Mina squeezed Y/N’s knee lightly, her smile growing as she watched Y/N relax bit by bit.

As the meal went on, the members took turns drawing Y/N into the conversation. Dahyun shared a funny story about a clumsy moment during rehearsal, complete with exaggerated gestures that had everyone in stitches. Chaeyoung asked Y/N about her hobbies, nodding along with genuine interest when Y/N mentioned her love for drawing.

“Mina didn’t tell us you were an artist!” Chaeyoung said with wide eyes. “You have to show me your sketches sometime. I bet they’re amazing.”

Mina, noticing the softening of Y/N’s expression, leaned in slightly. “Why don’t you tell them about the time you drew that mural for the community center?” she suggested gently, her tone encouraging.

Y/N hesitated, but the warm smiles around the table gave her a small boost of confidence. “It was… just a volunteer project,” she began softly. “They needed someone to paint a mural for the kids, so I—um, I designed something with animals and flowers. It took a while, but the kids seemed to like it.”

“That’s incredible!” Jihyo said, her eyes shining with admiration. “You’re so talented, and so modest about it.”

“Show off,” Jeongyeon teased with a grin, earning a playful nudge from Momo.

As the laughter bubbled up again, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. The warmth and acceptance of the group wrapped around her like a blanket, and though she still felt a bit shy, she began to see why Mina cherished them so much.

Mina watched it all unfold with quiet pride, her heart swelling at the sight of Y/N slowly opening up. She reached for Y/N’s hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze. Y/N looked at her, a shy smile blooming on her lips, and Mina’s heart melted.

By the end of the meal, the table was filled with empty plates, satisfied smiles, and a deeper sense of connection.

The group moved from the dining table to the living room, their energy still high as they settled into the plush couches and floor cushions. Jeongyeon, ever the host, returned with a stack of board games balanced in her arms.

“Alright, what’s the vibe? Competitive or chaotic?” she asked, setting the games down on the coffee table.

“Chaotic, obviously,” Nayeon said, grabbing a box of charades and waving it in the air. “Let’s get moving!”

“Fine, but I’m keeping score,” Jihyo declared, picking up a notepad and pen from the table.

The group quickly split into teams, with Y/N ending up on Mina’s side. She felt a flicker of anxiety but took a steadying breath as Mina leaned in close.

“Just have fun,” Mina whispered, her lips brushing lightly against Y/N’s ear.

As the game began, the room filled with laughter and cheers. Momo’s exaggerated pantomimes and Sana’s inability to stop giggling during her turn brought the kind of chaos only Twice could create.

When it was Y/N’s turn, she hesitated before standing. Mina gave her a reassuring nod, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. Taking a card from the stack, Y/N read it quickly and began miming.

“Uh… a tree?” Chaeyoung guessed, squinting in confusion.

“No, no!” Jihyo shouted. “A giraffe?”

Y/N clapped her hands and pointed at Jihyo, who erupted in a triumphant cheer. The room broke into applause as Y/N sat back down, her cheeks pink but her smile wide.

Mina beamed at her. “You’re doing great,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss on Y/N’s cheek.

As the game wound down, the lively buzz in the room began to soften, the group naturally splitting into smaller clusters of conversation. The sound of laughter lingered, now mixed with the occasional clinking of cups and the rustle of cushions as people shifted into more comfortable positions.

Y/N found herself still seated on the couch, her hands resting in her lap as she observed the group. Despite her initial nerves, she felt more at ease now, the warmth of Mina’s hand on her back grounding her even as Mina moved momentarily to help Jeongyeon clear a few plates.

Chaeyoung slid onto the couch beside Y/N, holding her phone and wearing a bright, curious expression. “So about the art..” she said, her tone brimming with enthusiasm as she tilted her phone toward Y/N. On the screen was a detailed digital sketch of a bird, its wings mid flight. The strokes were confident, but there was a rawness to the shading, as though Chaeyoung hadn’t quite decided how to finish it.

“I’ve been trying to figure out shading,” Chaeyoung continued, leaning closer. “It’s so hard to get it to look soft but not flat. Do you have any tips?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, her natural shyness momentarily giving way to quiet excitement. She leaned in slightly, her gaze focused on the screen. “This is really good,” she said sincerely, her voice soft but earnest. “The details are amazing. For the shading…” She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. “Maybe… try using softer strokes around the edges? Blend them a little more so the shadows look gradual. It makes it feel more three-dimensional.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes widened, her face lighting up. “Oh! That makes so much sense!” she exclaimed, quickly jotting down notes on her phone. “I knew asking you was the right move. You’ve gotta show me your work sometime. I bet it’s incredible.”

A shy smile spread across Y/N’s face, a small flicker of confidence sparking at Chaeyoung’s genuine interest. “I-I’d love to,” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

Nearby, Tzuyu appeared, her graceful movements as effortless as ever. She held a steaming mug of tea in each hand and offered one to Y/N with a small, serene smile.

“Here,” Tzuyu said, sitting down beside her. “I figured you might need something to help you relax after all this.”

Y/N accepted the mug with both hands, the warmth of the tea comforting against her skin. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze flickering to Tzuyu’s.

The tall girl settled beside her, cradling her own mug as she regarded Y/N with her usual quiet confidence. “You’re doing really well tonight,” Tzuyu said after a moment, her voice calm and candid.

Y/N blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Oh,” she said softly, her cheeks warming. “Thank you.”

Tzuyu’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re so kind and gentle, I can see why Mina likes you so much,” she said, leaning back slightly. “You make her smile a lot, you know. I’ve never seen her this happy.”

Y/N’s blush deepened as her gaze dropped to her mug. She traced the rim with her finger, her voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes me happy too,” she admitted, her words heartfelt and sincere.

Tzuyu chuckled lightly, the sound low and warm. She reached out, patting Y/N’s shoulder with an almost sisterly affection. “Good. Just make sure you keep treating her well,” she said, her tone teasing now. “Or you’ll have eight of us to answer to.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound surprising even herself. It was light and unguarded, and it earned an approving nod from Tzuyu.

“I mean it,” Tzuyu added with a grin. “We’re protective of our Mina, but you seem pretty perfect for her.”

Y/N glanced up, meeting Tzuyu’s gaze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice carrying a little more confidence now.

Tzuyu leaned back, sipping her tea as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the earlier intensity giving way to a comfortable camaraderie.

As the evening wore on, the energy in the room began to mellow. Some of the members were sprawled comfortably across the couch, their laughter quieter now as they shared funny stories and inside jokes. Others lingered in the dining area, tidying up plates and cups amidst easy conversation. The soft hum of background music played from a speaker in the corner, blending seamlessly with the occasional bursts of laughter from across the room.

Mina, ever attentive, noticed Y/N shifting slightly in her seat, her eyes starting to wander as the group’s energy began to feel overwhelming again. With a gentle touch on her elbow, Mina leaned in close. “Let’s take a moment,” she whispered, her tone as soothing as a lullaby.

Y/N nodded, letting Mina guide her to a quieter corner of the living room, away from the bustling energy of the others. They found a spot near the large bay window, the faint glow of the city lights beyond casting soft patterns across the floor. Mina turned to face Y/N, her hands naturally reaching out to take Y/N’s in hers.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Mina said, her voice low and intimate, the sincerity in her tone wrapping around Y/N like a warm embrace.

Y/N looked down at their entwined fingers, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. Her voice was soft as she replied, “I was so nervous… but they’re all so nice. And you were right, this wasn’t so bad.”

Mina smiled, her gaze filled with pride and affection. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her thumbs brushing lightly over the back of Y/N’s hands in a rhythmic, comforting motion.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between Mina’s face and their joined hands. Finally, she took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Thank you,” she began, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a weight of sincerity. “Thank you for staying by my side tonight. For… everything.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if the words were meant for Mina and Mina alone. “I love you.”

Mina’s breath caught for a moment, her chest tightening in the best way as Y/N’s quiet declaration settled over her like a melody she never wanted to stop hearing. Her lips parted in a soft exhale, her heart swelling with emotion.

She reached up slowly, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s cheek before cupping it gently. The warmth of Y/N’s skin against her palm felt grounding, intimate. Mina tilted her head slightly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s as if memorizing every detail of this moment.

“I love you too,” she murmured, her voice steady, filled with a depth of feeling that made Y/N’s breath hitch. Mina leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s temple, letting her lips linger there for a moment longer than usual. It was a silent promise, a gesture of everything she felt but didn’t need to say aloud.

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into Mina’s touch, a faint smile curving her lips. They stayed like that, their foreheads almost touching, the world around them fading into the background. The faint murmur of the group, the clinking of dishes, and the soft music became distant, like a backdrop to their own little universe.

Mina’s hand slipped down to Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her closer until Y/N rested her head against Mina’s. The quiet comfort of their presence filled the space between them, unspoken words of gratitude and love passing through every glance and touch.

For Y/N, this moment felt like an anchor, a reminder that, no matter how overwhelming the world might be, Mina would always be there, steady and unwavering.

And for Mina, seeing Y/N like this, relaxed, happy, and finally at ease, felt like the most precious gift of all.

The evening gradually reached its quiet finale, the earlier liveliness fading into a warm, serene atmosphere. Most of the Twice members had gathered in the living room again, some lounging on the couch while others sat cross-legged on the floor, holding cups of tea or nibbling on the last few snacks. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast a golden hue over the scene, making it feel like a moment frozen in time.

Mina sat beside Y/N on the couch, their hands loosely intertwined. Y/N had relaxed significantly, her shoulders no longer tense, her smile now coming easily. The warmth and kindness of Mina’s friends had finally melted the last of her apprehension, leaving behind only a quiet sense of belonging.

Jeongyeon, who had been scrolling through her phone, suddenly clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, before we call it a night, I think it’s time to make things official.”

The group turned to her with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement. “What do you mean, official?” Nayeon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon smirked, pointing toward Y/N. “Y/N’s basically one of us now. Don’t you all agree?”

A chorus of agreement rose from the group, interspersed with cheers and clapping.

“Yes!” Jihyo said, her voice carrying its usual leader-like authority. She turned to Y/N, her expression softening. “We’re so happy Mina brought you tonight. You’re wonderful, and honestly, it already feels like you’re part of our family.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the sincerity in Jihyo’s words making her chest tighten with emotion. She glanced around the room, taking in the warm smiles and nods of agreement from the others.

“Totally,” Sana chimed in, scooting closer from her spot on the floor. “You’re adorable, kind, and you make Mina so happy. That’s all we need to know.”

Dahyun grinned, leaning over to give Y/N’s knee a playful pat. “And hey, you survived your first Twice gathering. That alone deserves a round of applause.”

Laughter rippled through the group, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks flushing as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I was so nervous about tonight, but you’ve all been so kind. It means so much to me.”

Mina, sitting beside her, squeezed her hand gently, her expression radiating pride.

“Well,” Nayeon said, standing up dramatically, “there’s only one thing left to do. Group photo!”

Groans and laughs erupted from the group as Nayeon grabbed her phone. “Come on, come on! Everyone squish in!”

The members shuffled around, some squeezing onto the couch while others crouched on the floor in front. Y/N found herself in the center, seated next to Mina, who kept a firm yet gentle grip on her hand.

“Okay, everyone, smile!” Nayeon called, holding the phone up.

As the group leaned in, laughter and playful shouts filled the air. Momo pretended to photobomb, Jihyo threw up a peace sign, and Sana hugged Dahyun from behind, making her burst into giggles. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the joy of the moment washing over her.

The shutter clicked, capturing the scene perfectly. Y/N with a radiant, shy smile, Mina holding her hand tightly, and the rest of the Twice members surrounding them with bright, happy expressions.

As Nayeon checked the photo, Jeongyeon grinned. “That’s one for the books,” she said.

Mina leaned close to Y/N, her voice a soft murmur in her ear. “See? They already adore you.”

Y/N turned to Mina, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Mina smiled, brushing a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “You deserve it,” she replied, her voice filled with quiet conviction.

The photo, a perfect snapshot of a night filled with acceptance and love, became more than just a memory.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were. I also have a sideblog called @tbposting which is for shitposts and reblog spam and the occasional funny observation.

You can find me in most places online as TBSkyen.

Here's my Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/tbskyen.com

Here's my main YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@tbskyen

Here is my short-form YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@tbskyenshorts

Here's my rambly spam-and-reactions channel where I will spend an entire whole hour frame-by-frame gushing over cool animation and such: https://youtube.com/@3bskyen

And here's my Linktree where all of those links are collected and easily accessible: https://linktr.ee/tbskyen

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

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TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs

#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing

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#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

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FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at crowdmade.com/collections/tbskyen

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[callsigns-haze]

A big bang (sneak peak)

Summary: Jake asks Bradley to help unpack and not everything goes as planned, especially for your plates.

Warning: Nothing much in fairness maybe language?

Authors note: I haven't wrote much for these two in ages and I miss them too much to not post for them again!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part of the little life universe

You adjusted Ellie against your hip as you stepped out of the bedroom, making your way down the hall. The faint sound of Rooster’s voice, followed by Jake’s unmistakable groan of frustration, drifted up the stairs, confirming that whatever had smashed earlier was definitely their fault.

Ellie gurgled against your shoulder, her tiny fingers grabbing a fistful of your sweater as you started down the stairs. You moved carefully, still a little unsteady from being sick, but determined to see what disaster awaited you.

As you reached the bottom, the scene in the living room came into view. Jake and Rooster stood frozen near the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of broken ceramic pieces and what looked like the remnants of a picture frame scattered across the floor.

Rooster was the first to spot you. “Oh, hey, corpse,” he greeted casually, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a crime scene. His eyes flickered to Ellie, and he grinned. “Hope this one doesn’t inherit either of your coordination skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting Ellie higher on your hip. “Do I even want to know what happened?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. “Rooster happened,” he grumbled. “Tried to ‘help’ move one of the boxes, tripped over thin air, and sent it flying into the wall.”

“It was not thin air,” Rooster defended, crossing his arms. “There was… something there.”

Jake shot him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, it’s called your own two feet.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh as you glanced down at the mess. “So, what exactly broke?”

Jake exhaled, looking more annoyed than anything. “Just a frame. And one of the plates from your mom.”

You winced. “One of the nice ones?”

Jake’s silence was answer enough.

You sighed, rubbing Ellie’s back as she started to squirm. “Well, that’s great. Really great.”

Rooster coughed. “In my defence, I—”

Jake cut him off with a sharp look. “There is no defence, Bradshaw.”

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “Just… clean it up before Ellie decides she wants to crawl through it.”

Jake gave you a tired salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rooster grinned, nudging Jake with his elbow. “See? She is the boss.”

Jake groaned, bending down to start picking up the mess, while you just shook your head, already knowing this was far from the last disaster these two would cause.

You adjusted Ellie on your hip, bouncing her lightly as you stared at the mess on the floor. With a sigh, you looked up at Jake, suspicion creeping into your voice.

“Wait… were they the pretty black plates my mom gave me?”

Jake froze mid-reach, clearly debating whether or not lying was an option here. Rooster, on the other hand, had no such filter.

“Yup,” he answered immediately, nodding. “Smashed right into the wall. Shattered on impact. It was actually kinda impressive—”

Jake smacked him on the arm, shooting him a glare. “Dude.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through your nose. Ellie let out a little gurgle, oblivious to the silent devastation unfolding in your chest.

“You broke my favourite plates?” you said, opening your eyes to glare at them both.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was an accident, darlin’. I swear, I was nowhere near it. Bradley was the one who—”

Rooster threw his hands up. “Okay, technically, yes, but in my defence—”

“There is no defence!” Jake shot back, exasperated.

You groaned, shifting Ellie to your other arm. “Jake, those were special. My mom gave them to us when we moved in together.”

Jake softened, stepping toward you with his hands up in surrender. “I know, sugar, I know. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find a replacement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re gonna find handmade black ceramic plates that my mom had custom-made for us? Where, Jake?”

Rooster cleared his throat. “Etsy?”

You shot him a glare so sharp that he took a step back.

Jake sighed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I really am sorry, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to them if I could help it.”

You huffed, shifting Ellie again as she started to gnaw on your shoulder. “You owe me for this, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, leaning in closer. “I always owe you, sweetheart.”

Rooster made a gagging noise. “God, you two are disgustingly domestic.”

You rolled your eyes, waving them both off. “Just clean it up before I change my mind about forgiving you.”

Jake chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the mess. Rooster grumbled under his breath but joined in, and you just shook your head, still mourning your poor, beautiful plates.