#//I hope the tag is okay! If not let me know

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off. 

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.” 

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,” 

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh. 

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.” 

“Thank you?” 

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation. 

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure. 

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.” 

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.” 

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now. 

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.” 

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.” 

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm. 

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready. 

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations. 

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,” 

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong. 

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.” 

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.” 

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,” 

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,” 

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,” 

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?” 

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off. 

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all. 

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional. 

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot. 

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows. 

“You okay?” He checks. 

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,” 

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,” 

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,” 

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,” 

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him. 

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?” 

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,” 

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks. 

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else. 

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?” 

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought. 

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?” 

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,” 

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you. 

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,” 

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words. 

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,” 

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle. 

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again. 

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip. 

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,” 

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter. 

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,” 

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day. 

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?” 

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things. 

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?” 

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?” 

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner. 

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage. 

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation. 

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?” 

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?” 

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily. 

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,” 

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his. 

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again. 

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too. 

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,” 

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s. 

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,” 

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?” 

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?” 

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair. 

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours. 

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him. 

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position. 

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,” 

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful. 

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,” 

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,” 

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,” 

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you. 

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?” 

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,” 

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling. 

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar. 

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good. 

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?” 

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need. 

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,” 

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes. 

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?” 

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.” 

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes. 

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you. 

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue. 

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again. 

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything. 

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly. 

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this. 

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you. 

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate. 

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him. 

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding. 

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent. 

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile. 

His shoulders relax just a little. 

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.” 

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out. 

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,” 

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high. 

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut. 

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,” 

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step,  “Eight makes one team! Fighting!” 

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers. 

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all. 

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest. 

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is. 

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back. 

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly. 

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are. 

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself. 

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror. 

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link. 

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads. 

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it. 

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link. 

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap. 

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door. 

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?” 

“No,” You assure him. 

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,” 

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,” 

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.” 

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue. 

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,” 

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,” 

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.” 

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,” 

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight. 

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,” 

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus. 

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…” 

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change. 

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.” 

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,” 

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,” 

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you. 

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,” 

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho. 

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you. 

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?” 

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways. 

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,” 

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no. 

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,” 

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back. 

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience. 

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,” 

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage. 

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest. 

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops. 

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm. 

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number. 

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are. 

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing. 

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday. 

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel. 

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think. 

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says. 

“I waited,” You manage. 

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,” 

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?” 

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now. 

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?” 

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,” 

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,” 

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it. 

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door. 

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text. 

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it. 

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day. 

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,” 

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?” 

“It feels pretty real,” 

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,” 

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves. 

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?” 

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,” 

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,” 

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.” 

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words. 

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.” 

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,” 

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,” 

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing. 

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?” 

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see. 

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in. 

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,” 

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,” 

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head. 

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous. 

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,” 

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it. 

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,” 

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own. 

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge. 

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark. 

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,” 

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you. 

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?” 

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?” 

“Does it always feel like that?” 

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,” 

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,” 

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him. 

“Younger,” You say.  

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,” 

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had. 

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?” 

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other. 

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger. 

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,” 

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other. 

You wonder what more will feel like. 

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone. 

You nod. 

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face. 

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,” 

“You can feel that?” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,” 

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands. 

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw. 

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline. 

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,” 

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face. 

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back. 

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful. 

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time. 

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind. 

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,” 

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart. 

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs. 

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you. 

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,” 

His lips are on yours. 

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back. 

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other. 

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back. 

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh. 

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,” 

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound. 

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body.  You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again. 

 His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss. 

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue. 

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access. 

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly. 

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction. 

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth. 

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you. 

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him. 

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,” 

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”  

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,” 

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex. 

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you. 

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” 

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again. 

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,” 

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor. 

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you. 

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,” 

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.” 

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart. 

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,” 

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,” 

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,” 

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,” 

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic. 

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.” 

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,” 

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike. 

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?” 

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?” 

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,” 

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.” 

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders. 

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?” 

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years. 

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you. 

Your tight hands uncurl. 

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,” 

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,” 

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters. 

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,” 

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips. 

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,” 

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether. 

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.” 

He’s yours. 

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips. 

“This is real,” You murmur. 

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again. 

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again. 

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,” 

“Together,” You nod. 

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?” 

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,” 

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before. 

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,” 

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed. 

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone. 

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer. 

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?” 

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right. 

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,” 

“This is nice,” You smile. 

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,” 

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?” 

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.” 

 “I had no idea,” 

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly. 

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?” 

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,” 

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,” 

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,” 

He laughs. 

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess. 

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,” 

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,” 

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,” 

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching? 

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?” 

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?” 

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,” 

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,” 

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks. 

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,” 

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive. 

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,” 

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,” 

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.” 

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,” 

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,” 

You nod. 

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.” 

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling. 

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,” 

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,” 

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,” 

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?” 

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,” 

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace. 

“What time?” He glances back to the clock. 

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,” 

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,” 

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,” 

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,” 

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase. 

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,” 

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you. 

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,” 

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,” 

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in. 

“What?” 

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction. 

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?” 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,” 

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him. 

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,” 

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets. 

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,” 

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him. 

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other. 

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it. 

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank. 

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,” 

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?” 

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.” 

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,” 

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?” 

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken. 

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,” 

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,” 

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,” 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,” 

“For status?” He surmises. 

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,” 

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again. 

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,” 

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?” 

“It could,” 

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.” 

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears. 

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,” 

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop. 

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.” 

Your smile at his warm expression. 

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,” 

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?” 

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,” 

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?” 

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,” 

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,” 

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”  

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.” 

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth. 

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back. 

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,” 

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,” 

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,” 

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,” 

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank. 

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest. 

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen. 

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?” 

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,” 

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away. 

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?” 

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by  Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum. 

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,” 

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper. 

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair. 

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?” 

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh. 

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.” 

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going. 

“Naive is what it is,” 

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?” 

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?” 

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.” 

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho. 

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod. 

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.” 

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.” 

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features. 

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,” 

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.” 

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know. 

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,” 

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.” 

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces. 

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.” 

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits. 

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link. 

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.” 

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,” 

Your mouth feels dry. 

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.” 

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,” 

You both wait. 

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.” 

Yunho nods. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand. 

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.” 

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,” 

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,” 

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,” 

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,” 

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,” 

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.” 

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?” 

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns. 

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages. 

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these? 

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,” 

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,” 

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room. 

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.” 

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?” 

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,” 

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,” 

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful. 

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand. 

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off. 

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains. 

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,” 

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,” 

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go. 

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive. 

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,” 

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room. 

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor. 

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?” 

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed. 

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,” 

“With some guy?” She stands. 

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth. 

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,” 

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy. 

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you. 

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.” 

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words. 

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.” 

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?” 

“I’m not letting this go,” 

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.” 

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing. 

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?” 

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?” 

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?” 

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?” 

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,” 

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water. 

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.” 

“Okay,” 

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks. 

“Fine,” 

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,” 

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool. 

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances. 

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look. 

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional. 

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see. 

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him. 

You miss him. 

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this. 

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process. 

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness. 

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact. 

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am? 

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses. 

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning. 

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face. 

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply. 

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile. 

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says. 

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first. 

That’s good - You send back. 

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply. 

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type? 

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess? 

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him. 

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat. 

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous. 

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand. 

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again. 

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply. 

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t. 

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting. 

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.  

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night. 

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast. 

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night. 

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night. 

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet. 

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath. 

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones? 

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table. 

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done. 

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser. 

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan. 

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,” 

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?” 

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words. 

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.” 

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together. 

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.” 

You want me? - You ask. 

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.” 

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows. 

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?” 

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach. 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,” 

I was tossing and turning. 

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,” 

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in. 

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it. 

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,” 

Wearing? 

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?” 

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,” 

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray. 

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.” 

Me too 

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.” 

Me either - You confess. 

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?” 

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?” 

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,” 

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you. 

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong. 

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.” 

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it. 

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around. 

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.” 

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants. 

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

[vintagebuckybarnes]

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[kittykatkatelol]

no pressure tags: @bxtteryacid , @et3rnal-dr3am3r , @schnitzelsemmerl , @the-crystal-femmes (i hope its okay to tag you since it's not a humanoid picrew /gen) , @luna-maximoff-22 ,

@spacecatdraws , @theoneandonlypatches + anyone who wants to join :3 (please let me know if you want me to not tag you /gen)

fuck it. worm on a string picrew chain. let's fucking go

happy worm creation my friends

tagging @areyoudoingthis @cursed-coat-of-homosexuality @peanutbutterex @tfemteach @piratecaptainscaptainpirates (no pressure 💛)

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[straylightdream]

body and soul | coming soon

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ after a terrible day at work there is nothing more he wants then to go on a motorcycle ride with you.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ??

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), creampie, wonwoo has breeding kink even though he doesn’t want to admit it, sex outside (but no one is around) sex against a brick wall

𝐚𝐧: this can be read as a one shot but it’s also connected to king of my heart, but you don’t need to read that to understand this story.

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

PREVIEW

Quickly he pulls his bike into a covered dark all that’s absolutely empty. He helps you off the bike and unbuckles your helmet. You pull it off handing it to him. You can’t help but feel cold with how wet you got in that unexpected downpour.

“Baby I didn’t think it was supposed to rain.” He reaches up pushing the rain for your cheeks.

“It’s okay.”

“I think we’re stuck here for a while. It looks like all these businesses are closed.”

You can’t help but shake a little. You definitely weren’t dressed for the rain and your joggers you wore are wet and sticking to your skin. “Baby I’m sorry,” he takes your helmet from your hands and sets it on the back of his bike. He wastes no time pulling you close to his body. “Let me warm you up.” He holds you close, rubbing your body. He leans his head down resting his face against your neck. He doesn’t kiss your neck but his lips gently brush the sensitive spot on your neck that always turns you on. A soft gasp passes your lips.

“I didn’t mean to touch there,” he whispers against the sensitive spot. His large hands continue to rub your back as you hold him close. His breath keeps hitting the sensitive side of your neck turning you on. He’s managing to get you wet without trying.

Without thinking you grind your hips forward hoping for some sort of friction.

A soft moan passes your lips. “Does someone like it when I’m close to her neck?” He says with his lips ghosting your sensitive spot.

“Fuck-“

“You know we’re away from anyone who can see. We’re behind a building facing a forrest.” You know exactly what he’s insinuating. And at the moment you don’t care that you could possibly get caught. You just want Wonwoo to fuck you.

“Baby,” you whimper. With his fingers tangled in your hair he walks you back to the brick wall behind you. His hands protect your head and he gently pushes you against the wall.

“Are you going fuck me against this wall?”

He swallows staring at you with lust filled eyes, “fuck I want to.”

[xxnashiraxx]

Snippet Monday

I have been summoned by the lovely @roguishcat! Thank you for tagging me and your Halsin x Reader fic wip looks very juicy 👀👀 I'm looking forward to it!

Here's a small segment of Chapter 14 of With Stars to Fill My Dream- will they? Won't they? Who is sick and tired of these two being stupid at almost 100k and still not kissing? I know I am. ❤ Anyway, hope you guys are looking forward to it ❤

“Tell me you want me to kiss you.” She bites back a whimper, trying to turn her face away, but forgets his hands and the sound escapes when he holds her there, eyes fluttering open to stare up at him. “I… don’t…” She struggles to get out, heart slamming into her rib cage. He shakes his head, thumbs circling her skin slowly. “I said no lies,” She gulps, weighing everything as time seems to stop around them. What he’d said in the windmill still tears at her, but his tenderness at the river… his arms during the dance, that kiss that must of been his on her forehead… God, everything feels so complicated, twisted in a maze that she can’t navigate. She wants him, needs him like she needs breathing, every part of her aching to indulge and end her pining, to satisfy the burning desire that takes hold of her thoughts every waking minute. It’s so painful… pretending not to need, pretending that she doesn’t want to press their mouths together and let him devour her, to end the vicious punishment she keeps putting herself through. It’s like stepping through broken glass, and it’s every bit as agonizing as you’d imagine. Yet… if she does, does he even know what it means to her? Does he even want her past satisfying a night of pleasure? He’s proven that the possibility of more is nothing but a pipe dream… If she ignores all her doubts and leans in now, she’ll need to decide if she’s okay with that, and if she’s not… she’ll need to figure out whether or not she wants to stay in Faerun or find a way home. Because she can’t stand the thought of going back, even if this turns into nothing. The idea of returning to Earth and never seeing him again makes her feel like a hollowed-out shell. “I…” She bites her cheek, breathing ragged. His pink ears stir her already fast pulse, and his lips look so perfect and flushed- invitingly soft… She swallows again to lubricate her throat, inhaling deeply as the decision makes itself and she shoves all the rest of it down. “I don’t want you to.” She says firmly and before he can parrot his earlier statement, she hushes him. “I need you to.”

No pressure tags!! 💗 @preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @verbenaa @elinorbard @inkymoonbunny @justabiteofspite @khywren @pinkberrytea @nerdallwritey @bardic-inspo @busy-baker @kalmiaphlox @coyote-mint @badbloodwitch @heylittleriotact

[jjonglemons]

all my works can be found here

As You Are

i needed a cathartic one-shot, so here's a projection of my own internalized gender issues lmao. this one goes out to all my fellow afab nonbinary folks

Summary: jongho planned a nice night out for the two of you, and when he notices you aren’t feeling your best, he makes sure to remind you just how amazing you are.

WC: 1.7k

Tags: trigger warning (body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria, self-hatred, mild self-harm), established relationship, non-idol!jongho, nb!reader, afab!reader, fluff

“No,” you muttered, unbuttoning your white blouse with a sigh of frustration, “not this.” You took it off and tossed it back onto the bed amongst the other three tops you tried on already. Each of them were just “too” something for how you were feeling this evening. Groaning, you threw yourself onto the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and burying your face into it.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Love?” Jongho called out softly, creaking the door open so he could step into the room. “Is everything okay? You’ve been getting ready for a while now…” He took note of how you were sprawled across the bed with your face covered. Having been together for nearly five years, he knew exactly what that position meant. Jongho pushed your clothes out of the way so he could sit down. You felt the bed dip beside you as he comfortingly placed his hand on your thigh. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” you grumbled, pulling the pillow away so you could look at him, “I just want to have fun tonight and don’t know what to wear.”

“Want me to pick something out for you?”

Despite still having no idea what you were feeling up to wearing, you were tired of thinking about it. Whether you ended up feeling comfortable or uncomfortable in his choice of outfit, you just wanted to be on your way already, so it didn’t matter. You’d deal with it.

“Please,” you pouted, eyes begging like a puppy.

Jongho let out a light chuckle, patting your thigh where his hand rested as he stood up. "Of course." You watched him rummage around the closet for a few minutes, eventually settling on a simple black t-shirt and grey acid-washed jeans. You managed to let out a sigh of relief seeing his choice was neutral in many aspects. You hoped once you put it on, your anxiety would settle.

“Do you want help getting dressed?” Jongho offered, placing the clothing on the bed beside you. Something he became accustomed to during your relationship was when you struggled with clothing, he’d help dress you. It sounded silly, and perhaps childish, but when your mind wasn’t in the best place with these types of situations, you really just needed an extra hand to help guide you through it. Jongho often coaxed you with sweet compliments and kisses all over your face, shoulder, and back as he did this to remind you just how much you meant to him. 

“Yes,” you nodded, slowly rising from the bed and moving over towards him. 

He carefully pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head, leaving a light trail of kisses on your back as he followed it down your spine to your hips. “You look so good in everything, love,” he whispered, “what a star you are!”

You blushed and bit your lip, turning around to face him once he finished dressing you. “Thank you for always being so kind to me,” you gushed, placing your hands on his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anything for you,” he smiled, pecking your nose as you parted.

You picked up your jeans off the bed, sliding them on slowly, one leg at a time. Truthfully, your depressive feelings left you heavy and unable to move at what you considered a normal pace. Jongho wrapped his arms around you from behind, moving his hands to your waistband to button your pants for you.

“Are you sure you still want to go out?” Jongho asked, turning you around to face him once more. “I can cancel the reservation; I am more than happy to have a night in instead”

You shook your head. “No, I want to go out. We haven’t had the chance in ages, who knows when we’ll have this opportunity again?”

Jongho took your hands into his, “as long as you're okay,” then kissed the top of your head.

“I am,” you nodded, reassuringly.

The drive to your destination was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Jongho was always careful not to pry when you weren’t feeling your best. He trusted you’d open up when you were ready, and every past experience had proven that to be true thus far. You glanced at the sign on the building with curiosity as Jongho parked the car.

“Axe throwing?” You asked, a smile playing at your lips

Jongho nodded. “I remember you talking about wanting to try it.”

“Ah, thank you!” You squealed, throwing your arms around him. He jumped at your sudden movement, bumping his elbow on the door with a small yelp. “Sorry, my bad.” You apologised, retracting while looking at him sympathetically.

Jongho laughed before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “All good, my love. Now, let’s go fuck up some wood!”

To your surprise, you were actually quite good. You managed to beat Jongho by a good ten points by the end of the game.

“Let me just run to the bathroom really quickly before we leave,” You said, indicating the bathroom door as you passed it near the exit of the building. Jongho reached his arm out, signaling for you to hand him your jacket so you wouldn’t have to drag the hefty monster in with you. You thanked him before making your way into the restroom.

You hated when rooms had the mirror directly in view when you walked in. You felt your body cringe at the sight of your reflection, but you forced it away. You made your trip quick, avoiding the mirror as you passed by it again to exit the bathroom.

Jongho’s smile immediately dropped upon seeing your face when you came out. If there’s one thing you were really bad at, it was hiding your feelings. They oozed out far too strongly in your body language.

“What happened?” He asked gently, passing back your jacket.

You sighed. “Let’s just talk at home, yeah?”

Quietly, he nodded, following behind you to the car. Just like the ride from home was silent, the ride back was the same. Except this time, the air felt much heavier. Jongho to caution to not push you when you got back into the house, simply taking a seat on the living room couch. He sipped patiently at the glass of water he’d left on the side table earlier whilst you two were getting ready.

A few minutes later, you sat down beside him, playing with your fingers. You started to pick at the skin of them nervously. Jongho noticed, deciding to softly take your hands into his to keep you from further harming yourself. Thankfully it hadn’t gotten too bad, but knowing about your past, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of you relapsing. 

“Talk to me, love,” he said delicately. Upon his words, you began to cry, more than you expected yourself to. Jongho watched you with concern, rubbing his thumb over your palms in hopes to help calm you down. “Shhh,” he cooed, pulling you closer to him so he could wrap his arms around you, “I’m here. I’m here.”

“I-I,” you began, choking on your words, “I just felt so disgusting today. I didn’t feel good in anything, even the clothes you picked out for me. I’m sorry,” you sniffed. “I just feel so fucking ugly sometimes.”

“You've done nothing wrong, please don't apologize," he assured. "What is making you feel this way, darling?”

“I just wish…” you trailed off for a moment to breathe. “I just wish I was fucking normal. Why can’t I just feel like the body I was given? Why does my life have to be more complicated with these stupid fucking feelings? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

“I don’t hate my body,” you added, “but at the same time, I do. I either feel disgusted for what it is in general, or with the implications it comes with.”

“Love,” Jongho whispered, placing light kisses on your cheeks over where your tears lay, “you are the most beautiful human being I have ever come across. I am so, so sorry that you aren’t feeling that way right now. I know it’s difficult.”

“I wish I could see it that way, Jjongie,” you cried, “but right now, I can’t. How do you even love me, anyway? Looking like this. Being like this. I’m supposed to be a woman, right? Why don’t I feel that way then, hm? Why is my brain like this?”

“Your gender doesn’t change how I feel about you, my love.”

You wished Jongho’s words were getting through to you, but you were so caught up in your pain, you just kept overflowing with anger and ignoring them instead. “I do feel like a woman, but not all the time. Sometimes it feels right, other times so, so wrong. The same goes for any gender I experience. I just want to feel okay. Feel good in my skin. Is that so much to ask?”

Jongho shook his head, lifting your chin tenderly so you could look up at him. “Not at all.” He kissed you. “I may not understand everything you experience, but I do understand enough to know that it’s not easy, and I’m willing to do everything I can to help you feel safe, seen, and loved.”

You began to feel at ease, having released the feelings you had been harbouring all night and finally allowing Jongho’s words to reach you. Jongho knew about these things already. Hell, if it’s been five years already and he hasn’t left you, it’s safe to say he wasn’t going to. He truly loved you, deeper than you could ever imagine. You knew it, too, despite all of the lies your head would tell you at times.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” You asked, nuzzling yourself further into him. 

“Of course.”

When you awoke a few hours later, you found yourself in bed with Jongho spooning you. You took a deep breath, finally feeling okay. In his arms, you always did. “I love you, Jongho,” you whispered.

“Mmmm,” he stirred, lazily kissing your neck. “I love you the most.”

[swee7dream]

hi very late but may I request a cute cg!jaehyun taking care of a VERY fussy little!reader hehehehehhehehehehheheh cant wait to see what u write :)) (saying this bc I was very late but I saw you saying like a week or 2 after u saying u wanted to write jaehyun fics..)

no ! ( but okay ) caregiver ! jeong yoonoh x age regressor ! reader

genres age regression content , fluff warnings reader has hair long enough to put behind the ears dni nsfw / kink author's note FAV MOOT . i will go to war for you . as someone who is extremely fussy when small , you and i are cut from the same cloth . hope u like it ! tag list restarting ! lmk if you would like to be added .

“No, no, no…”

“Come on, Honey.”

“Not finish yet.” You ignore Jaehyun’s gentle hand pushing the hair behind your ear, scribbling your crayon furiously to the paper on the floor like a painter struck with genius inspiration.

“Can we finish this later? Tomorrow, maybe?”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut. You’ve entered your ‘no’ phase all of a sudden and it has been carving at his patience. It’s not that he never wants you to say no, but when it comes to eating your lunch or cleaning up your toys or changing out of your outside clothes for comfy, clean inside clothes, he can’t deny it’s frustrating. He just wants the best for his baby, why can’t you see that?

“Baby.” He looks down at the phone in your other hand, currently shining a terrifying (in Jaehyun’s opinion) four-finned shark-dinosaur-thing. Papers surround your curled-up ball self on the floor, each one detailing a different kind of dinosaur. “The dinos need to sleep too, baby. We need to start getting ready now so you don’t forget to brush your teeth ‘cause you’re just so sleepy.”

“Nuh-uh. Dinos can’t sleep. They’re dead.”

His shoulders slump in his crisscrossed sitting position in front of you. It’s difficult to keep up with the canonical and non-canonical existences of your baby world.

“Okay… maybe. But when they were alive, they had to sleep.”

“…maybe.” You throw him a bone! Finally, it only took an hour.

“Yeah?” He places a hand over the screen. “There are those pretty eyes. Hi Honey.”

“Hi, Hyunnie.” You frown. “Hyunnie let go.”

“The phone told me he’s very tired and would like to go to bed now. Sorry, baby.”

“Not true, phones don’t talk.”

“Mine does.” He gives you a look that says ‘so embarrassing for you…’

You squint at him, unamused.

“Hyunnie let go.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. My hand fell asleep. Right here.” He shines his dimples at you innocently.

“Let go!” Your blue crayon is left forgotten to roll under the couch as you pull and pull on Jaehyun’s arm.

“No!” He sings, finally taking matters into his own hands, quite literally, by pulling you onto his lap. “Bed time. Bed time for my baby.”

He rocks you side to side, cheek resting on the top of your head as he confines you in between his arms.

“No!” You squirm around but to no avail. “No bedtime. No tired!”

“Mmm, yes!” You feel his lips press to your head. “Bedtime, bedtime. Time for jammies and teeth brushing and stories. Doesn’t that sound fun, baby?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No-o-o-o-o-o!” Your voice shakes as Jaehyun’s soft rocking turns more into a shake one would give only to a potato sack.

“Ye-e-e-e-e-es!” He smiles down at you as he finishes his best imitation of your little tantrum.

“No.” You frown up at him, but his eyes catch the quirks at the end of your lips that you fail to push down.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!” He attacks your cheek with a kiss, littering your face with them as he continues. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“But why?” You give in, allowing yourself to go limp in Jaehyun’s hold.

“Because,” He mocks your whiny tone. “It’s late. It’s late and you get really mean when you don’t sleep enough.”

“That’s not true!”

“Hey.” He pinches your nose. “Why are you fighting me so much lately? It absolutely is true and you know it. Do you want Hyunnie to be all sad and weepy tomorrow? I’ll cry. You know I will. Wanna see? W-”

“No!” You giggle, putting both your hands up to cover his face. “Don’t wanna see Hyunnie sad. But am just no tired, Hyunnie.”

Another kiss to your palms lets Jaehyun see your face again.

“But I am. Can’t you just get ready for bed with me? It’s so scary to be alone.” He pulls you into his chest, squeezing but never too tight. “So scary! I need my Honey to help me!”

“Not scary, Hyunnie.” You giggle. “But okay. Honey help!”

“Really?” He pulls you away to meet your eyes and bumps your foreheads together. “Really really? For reals? How many reals are you talking?”

“All the reals!” You beam.

“Oh, thank you, baby. You sure are doing Hyunnie a solid.”

—

You didn’t realize how cold you were until you put your pajamas on, soft and warm, still smelling of laundry detergent. It’s like wearing a blanket and you rub the fabric against your arms to warm yourself up some more.

Your socks slide against the wooden floor as you hear Jaehyun take his turn to brush his teeth in the bathroom. You left a total mess! Your artwork is all over the floor, what if you lost one?

Not feeling like wanting to clean up at the moment, you put your crayon box on the coffee table to put it in its proper place tomorrow.

Wait.

You’re missing one!

Where did it go?

You hum to yourself as you gather all your drawings in a neat pile, making a mental note to yourself to date them all in the morning. You search under the table and behind pillows and blankets. Where is your green crayon?

“Ah-hah!” Jaehyun spots you back in the living room, face to the floor.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“Found my crayon, Hyunnie. Thought I lost it.” You lift yourself up, pulling your hand out from under the couch to show it to Jaehyun proudly.

“I’m glad you didn’t lose it, Honey.” He smiles. “But you didn’t have to get on the floor for that. You’re gonna get your jammies dirty.”

“’s okay! Needed my crayon.” You kneel over to slide the crayon back amongst its brethren in the paper box.

“Don’t you have a lot of other ones?” He helps you up by the hand.

“Not the same. Different shade o’ green.”

“Mmm, makes sense.” Jaehyun notices the pile of paper on your arm. “You’re taking your drawings to bed?”

“Yeah. Not tired so Honey’s gonna do storytime today.”

“Oh, really? Thank you, baby. You’re gonna teach me about dinosaurs?”

“Yeah.” You flop onto the bed. “Dinosaurs are super cool.”

“But aren’t they scary?” Jaehyun flicks off the light in the middle of the ceiling, warm soft light from your nightstands keeping the room from complete darkness.

“No. ‘cause they’re dead,” You explain simply.

“..right. I forgot that for a second.” He lifts the covers and slides inside the bed, shivering at the still-cold sheets. “Your drawings are just so good, baby, I thought they were pictures.”

“I get that a lot,” You say, rubbing your head against his arm. “You ready?”

“Ready Freddy.”

“Who’s Freddy?”

“I don’t know.” Jaehyun pauses to think. “Someone who’s ready, I guess. Go on, baby. Show me your dinos.”

“Okay!” You go through your pile of drawings and end up deciding on your most recent creation. “This one’s not finished, but it’s called a Liopleurodon. It existed in the Jurassic period. It was an apex predator—that means that no one could fight it and win! It just went chomp chomp and everybody died.”

“Oh, I see. It’s kind of like you, in a way.”

“What?!”

author's note ( pt 2 ) sorry for taking so long ! i have no excuse , just trying to deny the reality of valentine boy being gone . haven't been keeping up w nct lately bc of irl stuff + the boycott so if anyone has a google drive or anything like that for sm artists , pls lmk ! and as always , comments and constructive criticism are accepted and encouraged . just be nice or i will be finding your loved ones ' contact information and telling them you're CYBER BULLYING . hope everyone is having a good day and if not i hope it gets better !!

[kybercrystals94]

Hello, happy 333 subscribers!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

I have a suggestion, would you do a cadet batch fic! Whatever you like, I just love cadet batch 😅

Thank you so much, friend! 🥰 I love Cadet Batch too, so this was such a fun prompt to fill! I hope you enjoy your 333 word story ☺️

Shadows

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 333

Their new barrack is quieter than the lab. Darker too. Strange and unfamiliar shadows lurk ominously, stretched and disfigured. Hunter’s imagination gives them monstrous faces, fangs and claws. They are the creatures out of their flash training courses about predators throughout the galaxy. Creatures that stalk, watching their prey’s vulnerabilities, then lashing out, tearing through flesh and bone. 

Hunter swallows, reminding himself another time that while those creatures are real somewhere, they are not in this room. But another flash of lightning makes the shadows lurch, and Hunter yanks his blanket over his head. He shouldn’t be so afraid. He is nearly four standard years, far too old to be afraid of silly things like shadows. But then the thunder growls, its guttural voice making the room shudder. And something latches onto Hunter’s arm.

He is too afraid to make a noise, too afraid to move.

But then a loud, trembling voice says, “I’m scared. Can I sleep in your bunk with ya? Please, Hunter?” 

Hunter takes a deep breath and peeks out from his sanctuary. Wrecker is there, fingers still curled around Hunter’s arm like his life might depend on it. 

“Okay,” Hunter says. He hopes that he does not sound as relieved as he feels.

Wrecker wastes no time clambering into Hunter’s bunk, pressing himself as close to Hunter as he can. Wrecker is already taller than all of them, even if he was the second to last decanted. Nonetheless, he is still Hunter’s little brother, so Hunter threads his arms around him, and hugs him tight.

“I wanna go back to our old room,” Wrecker tells him. 

“I know. But it’ll be better this way. You’ll see.”

Wrecker nods. “Okay.” 

Hunter wonders if Crosshair will tease them when their morning cycle comes, or if Tech will say their fears were illogical. 

But when Hunter wakes again, Crosshair and Tech are in his bunk too, sleeping soundly. Hunter smiles, sleep coming to reclaim him. 

Maybe it’s alright to be braver together.

END

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𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

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A/N: Finally chapter 17 (the second half of chapter 16 that made it too bloody long)! I know you're all going to enjoy this one because you're all filthy little hobbits. Jokes, I love u all for all the support and love you keep leaving me. I love engagement with my work and it really helps with motivation, as I'm sure any writer would tell you. Anyways, as always, I hope you all enjoy this one ;)

CW/TW: S m u t central, pure filth, some angst

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It took a little under an hour for Nate’s phone to buzz with the incoming text from Roman telling her he had arrived. In that time, she’d moved upstairs to grab a jacket, not entirely comfortable leaving the house at midnight in the December weather of New York. 

She stood from her spot on the edge of her bed, smoothing out the tight fabric of her dress before stumbling ever-so-slightly in her heels. It would have been a smart move to just… change shoes, but she didn’t even think of that. All she could think about was… Roman.

Okay, okay, just walk normal, she reminded herself, steadying her steps as she quietly made her way downstairs, turning away from the direction in which Dimitri had his associates gathered. She almost couldn’t believe she’d managed to slip out the back door of the house without making a sound loud enough to alert someone. 

The further away she got from the house, the more surreal the situation felt. She was sneaking out of her own home, half-drunk, to meet Roman Reigns—Roman Reigns, of all people. You’d think the shock of being somewhat civil with her family’s number one enemy would have dulled out by now, but nope. That shit was rampant when she let herself think too much about it. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh to herself.

The alcohol had fully caught up with her now, making everything around her slightly fuzzy, but not enough to forget what was going on. She followed the narrow path down from the estate, through the hedges and along the private road. Her phone buzzed again, another text from Roman.

Parked down the street. Just past the bend.

Nate squinted down the dark road. Of course, he wouldn’t park right in front of the house. He wasn’t stupid. Roman knew better than to make himself too obvious, especially in her family’s territory. A mafia boss meeting with the daughter of another mafia boss wasn’t exactly a low-stakes situation.

After a couple of minutes of walking—well, more like ungraceful, slightly wobbly striding—Nate finally spotted that familiar black sedan parked a little further down the road, barely visible under the faint glow of a street lamp. She could see the faint outline of him sitting in the driver’s seat, his headlights off but the dim interior lights on, just enough to catch sight of him.

Roman had a presence even when doing nothing. Broad shoulders, thick arms resting casually on the wheel. Profile perfectly illuminated in the saturated light. Damn. It didn’t matter how drunk Nate was, he always managed to look like he belonged directly in the centre of attention.

She approached the passenger side, swayling a little more than she would’ve liked, and when Roman saw her, his neutral expression shifted slightly. Narrowing his eyes the same way he did every time he focused in on something.

He gave her a once-over, his gaze travelling from her legs, up the tight-fitting dress that wrapped around every line and bend of her body, and lingering on the exposed skin where her dress dipped low in the front. His observation was slow, deliberate, and left no room for misunderstanding. Appreciation in his dark eyes.

With a grin through the window, she knocked lightly on the glass. He gave her a half-smirk as he leaned over and unlocked the door for her. Nate pulled it open, sliding into the passenger seat with as much grace as she could muster, which, given her current state, wasn’t much.

“You’re late,” she teased, turning to him with a playful pout.

Roman raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “Takes time to sneak into enemy territory,” he said.

She sighed dramatically, leaning her head back against the seat. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out waiting for you.”

Shifting the car into gear, Roman shook his head and huffed. “You’re buzzed as hell, huh?”

Nate lifted her head to look at him, her smile widening. “Maybe just a little. Or a lot. But hey, you’re here, so I must be doing something right.”

He gave her a sideways glance, his lips twitching up in that way that always made her stomach flip. “Didn’t think you’d be callin’ me up for a rescue mission. What happened to that tough act?”

She waved her hand dismissively, as if to brush off the idea that she needed rescuing. “I don’t need rescuing. I just… didn’t wanna be there anymore. Family’s being weird.”

“Weird how?”

Nate rested her hands in her lap, playing with the ring on her left hand that she despised wearing, but no more than she despised the fact she forgot to take it off after her perfect wife attempt tonight. She looked over at Roman, taking in the sight of his profile: strong. Beard creating the perfect frame around his chin. Hesitating, she wondered how much she should share. Then again, the alcohol had loosened her tongue enough tonight.

“Ugh, you wouldn’t believe it,” she groaned, throwing her hands up. “My dad dropped the bomb that Katya’s getting married to Alexei.”

“Who the fuck is Alexei?”

“A right knobhead,” Nate snorted, disregarding the need to control her less-than-subtle accent and strong British dialect. “It’s like… if you took Boris, made him even worse, and added a few inches in height. And reallyyyy bad teeth.”

“Damn,” Roman hummed. “Sounds like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea. Katya’s gonna lose her mind. Or worse, she’ll just… disappear inside herself. She’s not strong like that.” Nate leaned her head against the window, sighing heavily. “It’s all just so… so fucked.”

There was a period of silence, the car humming softly beneath them as Roman drove down the quieter streets. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the comfort of the seat. Her mind was still going a hundred miles a second, but being with Roman, here, away from the mess of her family, felt strangely… safe.

“Hey.”

She blinked her eyes open and peered over at Roman, who was staring straight ahead at the road in front of him.

“You ain’t your family,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Nate swallowed, his simple statement settling over her like a blanket. She didn’t answer him right away, just nodded slightly, even though she barely believed that. When she was younger, there was nothing more she wanted than to follow in the footsteps of Dimitri Volkov. To be just like him. Have the kind of unmatched power that he had. 

But now, at 27, she wanted to be… anything else.

Before she could dwell on it too much, Roman’s voice broke through her thoughts again.

“You wanna talk about somethin’ else?” he asked. “Or we just gon’ sit here all night with you bein’ all depressed and shit?”

She managed a laugh, her mood lifting a little at his jesting tone. “Fine… What do you wanna talk about, oh wise one?”

“Ain’t much of a talker, Princess, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re talking to me now, aren’t you?”

He gave her a look, one that said she was pushing it, but the corners of his mouth tugged up in that signature smirk of his. “You got a smart mouth for someone who needed my help.”

Nate leaned back in her seat. “Oh, you love it.”

Roman’s stifled chuckle was low, rumbling through the car as they turned down another street. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, but after a few minutes, Nate found herself watching Roman out of the corner of her eye. 

“You have a really nice nose,” she blurted out without thinking.

Roman’s head jerked slightly as he shot her a look. “What?”

“Your nose,” she repeated, gesturing vaguely in his direction before leaning closer, squinting at him. “It’s like… shapely. Strong. A good nose.”

“You’re drunk, Nate.”

“I’m not that drunk,” she protested, sitting back up, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced herself. “I’m just observant. Your nose is nice.”

Roman smirked. “It’s crooked.”

Nate gasped, her eyes widening in dramatic disbelief. “No, it’s not! It’s—” She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from his face like she was considering touching his nose but stopped herself. “It’s perfect, Roman. Whoever told you it’s crooked is an idiot.”

“Well, I didn’t say anyone told me. I know it’s crooked. Had to have it fixed a couple times from being broken.”

She just shook her head vigorously, her wavy hair bouncing with the motion. “Nope. It’s perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

She wasn’t being subtle at all tonight. The vodka had completely eroded whatever filter she normally had, and it was obvious she was laying it on thick. He could feel the heat from her stare, and the way her gaze lingered on him was making his blood run a little hotter.

“You flirtin’, Volkov?” he asked somewhat playfully, yet seriously like he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

“Depends,” Nate grinned, biting her bottom lip. “You like it?”

Deepening his amused smile, he gave her a quick glance. “You know I don’t mind attention… But I don’t think your ass is in any shape to be making moves right now.”

“I am not that drunk,” she reiterated, leaning closer again. This time, her arm brushed his as she shifted, and he tensed slightly, more aware of her proximity than he cared to admit. “I’m just… I don’t know,” she sighed, lowering her head to look down at the centre console. “You’re easy to talk to.”

Roman’s eyebrows scrunched together, not sure if she meant that or if it was just the alcohol talking. Either way, it took him by surprise. Nate wasn’t the type to get emotional with other people, and Roman wasn’t even sure they were close enough to be letting her guard down like that.

“You sure that ain’t the drink talkin’?” he asked.

“Maybe. But I don’t think it matters at this point,” Nate snorted, leaning back and closing her eyes as she rested her head back on the seat. Roman glanced over at her, once again taking in the sight of such a beautiful woman in his car. 

Oh, the amount of times he would have had her laid out and begging for more if she wasn’t a Volkov. That time in the safehouse was one too many, but he needed more. There was still so much in his warped fantasies that he’d not yet made a reality. In every which way he could have her, he wanted it. He wanted to bury his face between those plush thighs of hers, savour every bit of her as she writhed and whimpered for him. Wanted to leave his mark on her, let Boris know that she didn’t need him to make her fall apart completely. 

“Nah,” Nate cackled, opening her eyes. “You’d know if I was flirting.”

“Pretty sure this is flirting.”

“I’m just telling the truth!” she insisted, her voice rising in pitch and volume. “You’re all, like, perfect or whatever. All this,” she motioned to him with both hands now. “You’ve got that whole… big, brooding, alpha-male thing going on, and don’t even get me started on those fucking eyes.”

“My eyes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically, leaning in as if she was imparting some great secret. “Your eyes are, like… intense. In a good way. But they’re also… kinda warm, you know? Like, you’ve got that look where you can either kill a guy or make someone feel all safe. Dual-purpose eyes.”

Roman blinked, obviously amused by her rambling, but there was something more there too. Though he didn’t say anything, the little smile on his face said enough.

“I’m serious, though,” she mumbled. “You’re… different from what I thought you’d be.”

“Different how?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, lazily tracing random shapes on the ceiling above her as she slouched in the seat. “I guess I thought you’d be more of an arsehole. Like my dad made you out to me. All tough, don’t-give-a-shit-about-anybody kind of deal.”

Snorting, he squeezed onto the steering wheel. “Yeah? That what you think of me, huh?”

“I did,” she clarified. “But you’re not. Not entirely. You… I don’t know. You’re nicer than you let on.”

His jaw worked as he considered her analysis; she didn’t notice the shift in his demeanour, too caught up in her own world to realise how close her words hit to home. But he sighed gently, speaking a little quieter.

“Yeah, well… I guess not everybody gets to see that side of me.”

Nate turned her head toward him, blinking slowly as her tipsy brain processed his words. Her voice softened as she tilted her head. “But I do?”

What was it about late nights that got them both so… vulnerable? You’d never see them this calm with one another in broad daylight, where they could each see every change and glimmer of expression. It was… safer to do it where neither one could read the other’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered. “You do.”

For a majority of the drive, the teasing resumed. Nate couldn’t stop herself from flirting with him, throwing out random compliments that had Roman laughing and subconsciously storing in his memory bank for times in which he needed a pick-me-up. But every time she said something he particularly liked, he’d respond with that same smirk, the same heated look that told her he was enjoying this just as much as she was.

Yet, it seemed like the more they drove around, seemingly with no destination in mind—the more her mind sobered up—the more she wanted to keep going. Keep poking the bear, as they say. She wanted him to snap.

She needed the night she got at the safehouse, and then some.

Nate had never been one to shy away from risk, but the idea that sprung to mind was something entirely different. Sitting next to Roman, she felt the tension between them building, thickening the air inside the confines of the car like a heavy fog. Tonight was already weird enough, so why not push it a little further?

She unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted in the passenger seat, carefully getting on her knees. The car was still moving. The low growl of the engine hummed beneath her as she moved to hover over Roman, her hand bracing on the console between them. It was dangerous, and she knew it. But the thrill of it—the fact that they could crash if either of them lost focus—only made her want it more.

Her lips brushed his ear when she leaned in close, warm breath teasing him. “Do you trust me?” she whispered delicately in that sultry accent, thick with desire as her body pressed against the side of his arm as he drove.

Trust. A subject that had risen multiple times during their time working together, all of which ended in some kind of argument. So when Roman shot her a glance and let out a smug laugh, followed by a very adamant “Not at all, Princess,” it didn’t surprise her. In fact, it just encouraged her more. 

Encouraged her to prove to him that he could, in fact, trust her.

Sliding even closer, her hand came up to steady herself on the headrest behind him. With an excited smirk, she whispered to him.

“Ya pochti kazhduyu noch’ dumal o tvoyem vkuse vo rtu.”

His reaction was immediate. Eyes darkened, lips curved wickedly, the heat rolling off in waves. He didn’t stop her, didn’t tell her to sit back down. Instead, his free hand—large, powerful, commanding—slipped casually around her waist, the move so natural it sent a pang of arousal straight between her legs. His fingers dipped lower, sliding over the curve of her backside, and then beneath her dress, his touch rough and unapologetic against her skin.

“You gotta stop with these games, Nate,” he chimed with little to no genuineness behind his words. It seemed like he was about to say something else, but Nate had shut him up pretty quickly by returning the favour, allowing her hand to explore the hard expanse of his wide chest and further down to his abdomen. 

Her breath caught in her throat as Roman’s hand explored further, squeezing, teasing, igniting her skin with every movement. Her body instinctively pressed closer to him, her knees digging into the seat, knowing full well that they were one sharp turn away from disaster. But right now, she couldn’t care less.

Especially not when his legs shifted apart, making plenty of room for her hand to settle on growing bulge under his black sweatpants.

His hand shot back up to her waist, holding onto her tightly as she began to slowly, methodically massage him. Her breasts pushed against his arm as her lips brushed the side of his strong neck. “I think…” she whispered against his heated skin, “That you love it when I get in your head.”

Roman turned just slightly, lips ghosting over her jaw, dangerously close to her mouth. “What’d you say back there? In that pretty little language of yours?”

She gave him an abrupt squeeze, causing him to jolt a little in his seat. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she enjoyed every second of it.

The words were a challenge, a dare. And Nate was more than willing to play along. She dragged her lips back up to his ear, so close that she could feel his pulse quicken under her touch.

“I said… I’ve been thinking about how you’d taste in my mouth almost every night.”

She rested the side of her head on his shoulder, peering down at where her hand had worked him over his sweats to the point of no return. His powerful frame remained tense and full in the driver’s seat, muscles taut under the dark, fitted t-shirt that clung to his body. His tattoos peeked out from beneath his sleeve, the tribal ink crawling up his thick arm, accentuating every ounce of his dominance, his control over everything in his world.

“How am I supposed to keep driving with you touchin’ me like that, huh? After tellin’ me somethin’ like that?”

A giggle left her mouth, followed by an amused hum as she tilted her head back to look up at his face. “Then I suggest finding somewhere to pull over so I can get that cock in my mouth…”

That was it. He snapped. His nose twitched, a grunt leaving his lips as he practically slammed his foot down on the gas, eagerly thinking of all the places he knew they could park up at. If she wanted to play this, then he’d happily go along with it.

She smirked to herself, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But that was exactly what made it so intoxicating.

Shifting a little to the side, Nate braced one hand on the console as she slipped the other beneath his waistband, her fingers grazing over the solid length hiding beneath his sweats, swollen and aching against the fabric. Roman swallowed thickly, releasing a shaky breath.

“Wha–”

“Shh,” she gently hushed him, dragging her lips along his beard. “Just keep driving, moy vozhd’ plemeni…”

A low groan rumbled deep in his chest as she freed him from the confines of his pants, her delicate fingers wrapping around the thick base. Back at the safehouse, she didn’t get a chance to actually look at him. She sure felt him—the sheer stinging sensation as he sank deep inside of her—but now she was seeing, witnessing his size… God, it was intimidating. Even in the limited light in the car. 

“Fucking hell, Reigns, how do you cope with this in your pants all day?” she asked with an air of exasperation, as though she had already gone three rounds with him. He didn’t answer, just let out a breathy laugh, trying earnestly to focus on the road. 

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nate shuffled back a little so she could lean over his lap, collecting enough saliva in her mouth to let it fall right onto the bulbous tip of his cock. He hissed under his breath, hips jolting at the sensation.

“You’re gonna make me crash this damn car,” he muttered through gritted teeth. But he didn’t stop her. If anything, he shifted in his seat, giving her more room to work, his body leaning into her touch as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Then maybe you should pull over…” she teased, licking her lips before she reached up to press a small but heated kiss against the inked skin of his bicep. 

But Roman was stubborn. He wasn’t going to pull over. Not yet.

“You think I’m gon’ make it that easy for you, Princess?” His voice was thickly laced with arousal and growing primal urge. “Nah… you want that shit so bad, you’ll have to work for it.”

Challenge accepted.

“Da,” she purred up at him, smiling innocently at his warning glare for once again speaking Russian when he couldn’t completely devour her whole. But she wasted no time, lowering her mouth over his tip, allowing her tongue to swirl in slow, strategic circles around the hot, salty skin. As soon as she closed her lips around him, his body jerked, hips lifting slightly off the seat as he let out another sharp hiss.

“Fuck…” His hand shot to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as she began her descent, taking in his length as much as she could. Inch by inch. The slow bobbing of her head, the pressure along the underside of his cock from her tongue, tasting him with a hunger that could only be matched by his own, had him breathing raggedly.

The car even swerved slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might actually lose control. But Roman was nothing if not determined—he managed to keep the car steady, though his breathing had become uneven, every exhale shaky and strained as she pulled back and lewdly spit on his tip.

“Goddamn it,” he grunted, unable to stop his hips from careening upwards, causing his cock to slide even further into her mouth, her throat tightening around him at the intrusion. “Shit, that mouth ain’t so bad anymore, baby girl…” 

Nate hummed around him, feeling the wetness grow between her legs at his praise. The vibrations pulled another ragged moan from his lips as she continued to enjoy the taste of him. His body was coiling, tension building in every muscle, every fibre of his being as he fought to maintain control. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her, encouraging her to take him deeper, faster, until the car was filled with nothing but the explicit sound of her mouth sloppily working him over and his laboured gasps.

“Damn, why ain’t I used your mouth before?” he rasped. “Gon’ make me cum before we even get there.”

His praises only spurred her on. Hollowing her cheeks, she took him as deep as she could, throat convulsing as she gagged, choked. Her hand joined the effort, making up for the expanse she couldn’t fit into her mouth. Roman’s free hand slammed against the steering wheel, knuckles white as he tried desperately to stay focused, to keep from veering off the road entirely. 

“You better cut that out unless you want me to nut all on that pretty face,” he growled, glancing down at the sight of her head nestled just under the steering wheel, her knees still planted on the leather of the passenger’s seat. Body curved and arched over the centre console. He could only imagine how soaked she was right now.

With a wicked glint in her eye, she hummed again and slowly pulled her head back up, releasing him with a pop. She watched as her own hand steadily gave him a few more pumps, admiring the glistening in the dim light, the spit and translucent pearls that had gathered on her hand and along his skin. 

Licking her lips, she propped herself up on both hands, stretching out her back in the process and looking up at the Samoan god in front of her. She couldn’t quite place the emotion on his face. She didn’t know if he was angry at her for blowing him whilst driving. But his next words told her that wasn’t the case.

“You… are fuckin’ insane,” he muttered hoarsley. “You just wait til I find somewhere to pull over…”

Nate smirked, chuckling almost smugly as she pulled back enough to look at the road ahead of them. They’d ventured out into a more secluded part of the city, where buildings were few and far in between. And finally, with the mounting tension simmering around and between them, he slowed the car, pulling off onto a secluded dirt road.

It seemed like it was instantly after turning off the engine that he rapidly unbuckled his seatbelt, turned to face her and reached for the back of her neck to smash their lips together in a clumsy, needy kiss.

She was barely prepared for it, the lack of breath saved up heightening her senses as he rolled his tongue into her mouth, bit at her lips like he did the last time. It was like he was trying to crawl inside her via her mouth, large and strong hand pulling her forcefully against him as he grunted into her mouth. And when he finally broke the kiss, yanking at her bottom lip in the process, his eyes darkened fully. His fist tightened around the hair at the back of her neck.

“Get the fuck in the back so I can eat that pussy, Princess.”

Her heart rate raced as Roman growled out the command, his words dipping with a hunger that matched the fire burning low in her belly. The rough pull of her hair, the deep, guttural tone in his voice—it was everything she wanted and more. Her mouth was still wet, lips swollen from working his cock, her body vibrating with foretaste.

She shuffled back, fumbling with the door handle as Roman watched her, his eyes locked onto her with a heated, possessive glare. The moment she managed to climb out, he followed swiftly, already yanking at his sweats to pull them up just enough to walk as he stalked around the car. Nate scrambled into the backseat, practically hearing her own pulse as she leaned back against the seat, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Roman was there within seconds, slamming the door behind him, the car shaking under his weight. A predatory gaze as he crawled into the space between her legs, guiding her back without much warning. His large frame took up the entire backseat, and he resorted to resting a knee on the floor of the car just to accommodate himself. She felt so small and vulnerable under his shadow, and yet a thrill coursed through her veins akin to the type that shocked her at Bunny’s compound.

One hand slid down to her bare leg, lifting it up so he could feel the smooth skin of her thigh, closer to the only thing in the way of his magical fingers.

“Take ‘em off,” he uttered, staring down at her with hooded eyes and an unmistakable nod to her panties with a sharp, delicate flick of his chin. 

Normally, the speed in which she obliged to his command would embarrass her—disappoint her. But it didn’t. She didn’t even hesitate, fingers quickly finding the flimsy material under her dress, shimmying them down as far as they could go in the position they were in, before he finished the task, tossing them into the front seat.

All the commotion had already caused her dress to ride up, allowing for her glistening core to be ogled at from the man above her. Especially as he placed his hands on the backs of her thighs, pushing them apart to expose her even more. He didn’t even need to look for very long to see just how wet she was.

“Fuck, baby… all this for me?” he exhaled, his voice chillingly soft as his fingers dug into the plushness of her thighs. “This soaked for a man you hate so much, huh?”

Oh, but I don’t hate you, Roman…

Nate couldn’t say anything. Just shift her hips, grinding against thin air. He leaned down, bringing her legs with him so she had to deal with the little friction from his sweatpants.

“Needy ‘lil princess,” he hummed, glancing down at her lips. He’d be stupid to deny it; her beauty, that is. All dressed up for the night, her makeup a little worn by now, but still present nonetheless. And he had to admit it to himself, regardless of it being internal…

Nate Volkov was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. And he’d laid eyes—and other things—on a lot of women in his time.

“You gon’ be a good girl and let Daddy do what he needs to do?”

Fuck…

He could have sworn he heard her whimper. He fucking knew it… he knew she’d responded to the pet name last time. Let’s see how far I can push this…

“C’mon, speak to me, Princess…” he whispered, his lips barely touching just below her lips. “You bein’ here, you already disobeyed one daddy, hm?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure what he was getting at exactly through the potent arousal that continued to form between her legs. She was literally throbbing, clenching—she needed it so fucking bad…

His head dipped lower, edging his nose down her chest and down to the space just above the neckline of her dress. “Don’t disobey this one, baby girl. You want Daddy to eat this pussy real good, you’re gonna have to be good.” He lifted his head, looking straight at her. “You gonna be good?”

Nate let out a shaky breath, hand gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as she nodded earnestly. “Y-yes…”

He smirked, giving her legs another squeeze. “Ain’t the answer I’m lookin’ for, Princess.”

The thing was: she knew exactly what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to call him. But her own stubborn streak, her own unwillingness to obey at the drop of a hat, despite the reward for complying, being a potentially mind-blowing orgasm, was too dominant.

That didn’t mean she didn’t want to, though. God only knew how she’d searched for years for something to fulfil the gaping hole made from a lack of… well, any kind of nurturing. And Roman had been good to her, really… Right?

Working with him, being around him and his family—the enemy—was, ironically, the only time she felt anything close to… acceptance.

And even if it would come to her own demise, even if there was a sliver of a chance that her next words would come and bite her in the ass… She. Didn’t. Care. She needed this.

“I’ll be good,” she managed to say, still grabbing onto his bicep even though he had already made a slow descent down her body, both knees on the floor now. “...Daddy.”

Her breath hitched at the tail end of the sordid word as Roman’s lips met the inside of her thigh, kissing, licking, biting his way toward her pussy with an agonisingly slow pace. “That’s right,” he mumbled. Nate’s back arched off the seat, her hips bucking slightly, silently begging for him to stop teasing her. But Roman was in control now, and he wasn’t about to let her rush him.

“Perestan’ menya draznit’... ty nuzhen etoy kiske, detka…” she whimpered as he blew little puffs of hot air right against her dripping folds, teasing her to the max. 

Roman grinned, his lips brushing against her, barely pressing down on her throbbing clit. “I don’t give a damn what you’re saying in that Russian, baby,” he muttered as he kissed over her heat. “But I know you beggin’ for me.”

Her body jerked at the contact, and he saw her hand fly up to cover her mouth, trying to suppress the needy sounds bubbling up in the throat. But Roman wasn’t having it. “Don’t you fuckin’ hide those sounds from me,” he ordered, followed by a sharp nip to her thigh with his teeth. 

Nate’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. “Please,” she whispered, hating how broken and desperate she sounded. “Roman, please.”

“Please, what—”

“Please, Daddy!” she huffed, still with an air of defiance, but peered down at him with a softer expression. “I need you.”

Without another word, he finally dipped his head, his thick tongue slipping out to drag a slow, deliberate line up her slit. Nate’s entire body jumped at the contact, her hand shooting down to grip his hair, pulling at it despite its place in a bun. A moan tore from her throat, no longer able to contain it.

His tongue worked like a seasoned veteran, tasting her, teasing her, fingers digging deeper into her thighs to keep her from wriggling around too much. He wanted to take his time, to savour the way her body reacted to him, but the little sounds she made, the breathless moans and whimpers, were making it harder to keep his control.

“Fuck,” he grunted between licks, his voice vibrating against her swollen bud. “Pussy tastes so good… so fuckin’ sweet.” He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking the hot flesh into his mouth to drag sloppy circles around it. Nate gasped, a choked groan leaving her throat as her back arched once again.

Roman didn’t stop. His tongue flicked over her sensitive pearl, focusing the tip of his tongue on the part of her that made her writhe and pant the most. He wrapped his thick arms around her legs, hands coming round her hips to spread her open even more for him. His body moved closer to her, practically pulling her lower half off the seat entirely as he divulged.

Nate barely registered just how painfully she folded in half by the sheer force of Roman’s form. She just revelled in the overwhelming sensation of his mouth slobbering all over her cunt, bringing her to unreal levels of ecstasy in the process. But it was the much-missed sensation of two of his fingers pushing their way inside her, broadly curling just deep enough to find that spot, that had her crying out even louder.

“There it is,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, as he felt her walls fluttering around his fingers. “Wanna make sure this pussy cums nice n’ hard for me, Princess. Right on my fuckin’ tongue.”

His mumbles were fuel to the fire. Mind spinning, torn between the intoxicating sensations bestowed upon her by this Samoan god, and the mess tangled within her brain. Thinking about how badly Boris Sokolov had wanted to be in this position for years, but here she was… doing that exact thing… with Roman Reigns. The enemy, the man she had known for barely three months—and how he had utterly consumed her every thought, every inch of her body.

Her head fell back against the seat, Roman’s fingers fucking her slowly, purposefully, in tandem with the sinful rhythm of his tongue. Her thighs quivered under his grip, his broad shoulders keeping her splayed open, making sure she had nowhere to go.

“You ever let him get this close, principessa?” he rumbled against her. “You ever let him taste this sweet ass pussy?” 

Nate shuddered. The sheer taboo of it made her brain short-circuit. The fact he seemed to have known what she was thinking… It was control, dominance, a pure primal claim. She couldn’t hold back the moans, whole body vibrating as he dragged his fingers in and out of her.

“Answer me.” His command was sharp, fingers curling into her spot harder.

“N-no…” she choked out. “He’s never had me—oh, fuck, right there,” she cut herself out with a strained groan, her fingers tightening on his hair, inevitably pulling out strands from the bun. 

Roman chuckled darkly, the vibration of his laugh pressing into her clit as he sucked hard on the sensitive pearl. “Good,” he muttered, pulling his mouth off her just long enough to smirk up at her, eyes gleaming with sheer satisfaction. “This pussy still mine.”

“Shit…” she whined as he resumed his work, salivating and slobbering all over her pussy, the sound of it lewd but a contributor to the orgasm welling up inside her. Throbbing against his tongue. Juices continuing to flow, making a mess of his perfectly groomed beard, and whatever else had the misfortune of being within immediate range. She could even see the movement on his cheeks as he ate her out like a starved animal.

Digging her high heel into the centre of his back, he careened forward ever so slightly, growling against her. The action was entirely unintentional, but the payoff was divine. She couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold on for much longer.

“Prodolzhay, ya konchu, chert voz’mi, Roman…” she panted, clenching her fist into his hair as she started to buck her hips up against him. 

“God, you sound so fuckin’ good like that,” he breathed out, before pulling his head back, removing his fingers only to have them come up to rub erratically at her clit. He peered up at her, smirking at her dazed state, how she whimpered a little at the lost contact. “You gonna cum for me, Princess?”

“Fuck! Yes,” she answered through a strained whine. 

Roman didn’t answer, just shot back down to finish what he started. And before she could blink, her orgasm hit her with violent force, a broken moan of pure ecstacy exorcised from her chest—thighs attempting to clamp down around his head, but firmly kept apart by this man’s ridiculously strong hands. Her whole body seized, her hips jerking off the seat as he growled low in his chest, continuing to lap at her relentlessly. Prolonging every shudder that wracked through her.

When she finally collapsed back against the leather seat, panting and gasping for air, Roman didn’t let up, moving to shift over her, lowering his face just inches from hers as he leaned into her. She could taste herself on his lips when he kissed her roughly, one hand grabbing the back of her neck while the other fumbled with the hair tie that did little for the mess she’d made. He yanked it out, snapping it around his wrist. 

Nate kept up with him, her hands feeling around his waist, tucking her fingers under his shirt to feel the hard, defined muscle of his back, his abs, anything she could get her hands on. She could feel the outline of his hard cock firmly pushing up against her, and the thought of him inside her again made her throb with desire.

She’d even forgotten, in the midst of her erotic haze, that they were in a car that provided limited space to move around. The fumbling of his sweatpants, and his attempt of positioning himself became too frustrating, and eventually, he adjusted his position, pulling her with him as he settled behind the driver’s seat. Fingers, digging into her skin, he held onto her waist possessively as he locked eyes with her. “Turn around, Princess,” he rasped.

Nate blinked up at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Roman growled, giving her backside a firm tap. “Turn the fuck around. I want you to ride me… But I wanna watch that ass of yours while you do.”

Her heart stumbled in her chest. The raw yearning in his voice made her pussy convulse and shudder along with her whole body. Swallowing hard, she shifted on the seat, her legs shaky as she turned to press her knees into the leather seat, facing away from him. Her hands braced herself on the headrest in front of her. 

Roman leaned back, sliding down into the seat as far as he could go, his thick thighs spreading wide to accommodate her. Large hands gripped at her hips tightly, thumbs digging into the fleshy curves and pulling her closer to him as his mouth hovered hear her ear, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. Almost as hot and heavy as the tip of his cock gliding across her slick folds.

“You feelin’ this, baby girl?” he whispered. “Feel how fuckin’ hard you make me? How bad I need to be in you every fuckin’ time I see you?”

Nate’s head fell back slightly, a soft moan falling from her parted lips as she reached down, guiding the thick head of his cock to her slick entrance. He had to have been the biggest she’d ever had… And even though she’d had him before, it was insignificant in preparing her for another ride—so to speak.

Roman groaned low in his chest as she lined him up, holding onto her tightly. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Nice n’ slow, baby. Take me all the way in.”

Biting down on her lip, she lowered herself onto him, her body stretching around his girth inch by inch. The pressure, the fullness, it was all so overwhelming, and she couldn’t stop the breathy whine from leaving her mouth as she sank down onto him completely.

“O bozhe…” she gasped, gripping the back of the driver’s seat for support. “Roman…”

“Fuck,” Roman grunted, his hands roaming from her waist to her backside, squeezing the soft flesh as he helped guide her movements. “That’s right… every fuckin’ inch.”

Nate’s response was a choked moan as she tried to lift herself up, but Roman’s hands were still on her hips, pushing her down again, forcing her to take all of him. The angle was intense, his cock hitting deep inside her with every slight movement. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, her body trembling as she began to ride him, the tight space making it harder to control her movements, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, it fuelled his need.

“Fuck, yes…” he hissed, his head falling back against the seat, eyes rolling shut as her tight core enveloped him. “Goddamn… Fuckin’ perfect body…”

She could barely breathe. The sensation of him filling her completely made her dizzy. “Oh god, Roman—fuck,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut; this position definitely made his size all the more intense to take. Impossibly thick. Stretched to the limit. “Feels so fucking good…”

Hands back on her ass, he rocked her gently, urging her to pick up the pace of her movements. “Yeah? You like how that feels, Princess?” His voice was low, strained. “Like the way I fill up this pussy, huh?”

“Yes,” she breathed out with an earnest nod, rolling her hips over his, feeling every inch of him drag against her sensitive walls. It was too much, and yet somehow not enough.

Once she had settled into a rhythm, one that had her enveloping him completely, hitting her spot each time he sank back inside, Roman couldn’t help himself. She just looked so good like this, and her ass… Fuck, she was so fucking hot.

“Look at you, baby girl,” he grunted behind her. “Ridin’ me like that… like you fuckin’ own me.” His hands guided her, pushing her up and down on his cock. “You been wantin’ this again, huh? Been thinkin’ ‘bout me since the safehouse?”

All she could do was nod, unable to speak as she rode him quicker, greedily taking him at her leisure. 

Big mistake.

Without another word, Roman’s hand came up to the back of her head, twisting his fist into her hair to yank her backwards until her back made contact with his body. Forced to let go of the driver’s seat headrest, she was lost as to what to do with her hands; she grabbed at anything, the uselessly small ledge on the window, the seat they were on. But she eventually found his hand, the one that wasn’t painfully grasping at her hair, and held onto that instead. 

“I asked you a question,” he hissed into the skin of her neck as he inhaled her scent. “You been wantin’ this dick again, ain’t you, baby girl? Wanted me to pound this tight lil’ pussy…” The more he spoke, the more he took control of their speed, starting to throw his hips up from beneath, fucking her silly. “Say it, Nate.”

Her pants got quicker, and the pitch of her moans heightened. She could feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Yes!” she choked out, eyes rolling to the back of her head as the tip of his dick hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside her soul. “Holy shit… Roman—right there, right there…shit, fuck!” she groaned, lifting her hand to grab onto his shoulder behind her. It was awkward, trying to hold onto him how she wanted. 

“Mmm,” Roman rumbled, letting go of her hair and bringing both his hands around to the front of her, trailing them up until he reached her breasts. He disregarded the value of the dress she wore and practically ripped the fabric down so the warm skin made contact with the rough palms of his hands, exposing her. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he moaned, his lips hovering over her shoulder. “This pussy was made for me…”

The car creaked beneath them as her ass bounced on his lap, as their skin collided, obscene sounds coming from her pussy taking him over and over.

“Turn around, Princess,” he rasped, giving her chest a final squeeze. “Lemme see you.”

With a whimper, she weakly slid off of him, his dick sliding out of her and leaving her empty for only a moment before he pulled her back on top of him, this time facing each other so they could see the absolute state they put the other in.

“Keep ridin’ me, baby, fuck yourself on this dick,” he encouraged, wrapping his muscular arms around her body, assisting her in her movements. He met her downward grinds with a sharp upward thrust, taking a moment to appreciate the body of this woman. He needily captured one of her stiff nipples into his mouth, holding her against him as he proceeded to swirl his tongue around the erect nub, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. He swore he felt her pussy jolt at the action.

“God,” Nate gasped, her breath hitching as his dick slammed into her repeatedly. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled darkly, peering up at her. “That feel good?”

“Yeah…” Her hands moved from his shoulders up to his hair, pushing it completely from his face so she could feast her eyes on his intimidating features, the arch in his brows as he leered up at her like she was the most despicable human he’d ever seen. Yet, all the while, he’s balls deep in her, fucking her from underneath like he’d never get to have sex ever again. 

“Mne nravitsya chuvstvovat’, budto ty razryvayesh’ menya popolam… moy vozd’ pelemeni,” she purred down at him, purposefully tightening herself around him as she did.

“You keep talkin’ to me like that, I’m gon’ nut in this pretty pussy,” he growled at her, lowering his hands to grab onto her ass, spreading her out and picking up the pace with his own hips. She cried out, clenching her fists into his hair. “That what you want, Princess? You want Daddy to nut all in that pussy? Get her nice and full for Boris stupid ass, huh?”

Now, that shouldn’t have brought her closer to the edge. But, God, did it…

“Yes, Daddy,” she panted, “Please… Please, please… Please, moy vozhd’ plemeni…”

Considering that Roman practically had his brain inside her, it was quite the impressive feat that he picked up on one of her Russian phrases. A phrase she had used three times tonight…

“What’s that mean?” he asked her, starting to pant himself.

“What?”

“That… what you just said.”

Nate smirked a little, humming as she laughed breathily. “Moy vozhd’ plemeni?”

“Shit… yeah, that…”

“It mea—oh, fuck, fuck…” she gasped, her entire body twitching and tensing up as her orgasm hit her so suddenly, so intensely that she had to push her forehead up against his in a feeble attempt to steady herself. “I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming…”

“Damn, baby, no warnin’ or nothin’?” he leaned his head back, lids hooded as he watched her writhe on top of him, feeling her pussy throb and convulse around him, soaking him in her sweet release. God, he wanted to taste her again already… “So fuckin’ pretty cummin’ on this dick. Ride it out, Princess…”

She really did. She rode it out, using every ridge and curve of his cock to draw the final drops of her climax from within. But now… all she wanted to do was make this gorgeous creation beneath her come undone and fill her up. 

“Hmm…” she hummed, ignoring the sensitivity as she continued to roll her hips. “Your turn now, Daddy…”

Roman groaned, practically turning inside out as he heard that name on the tip of her precious tongue, in that precious accent. That reminds him…

“Tell me,” he breathed.

“Tell you what?” She dug her nails into his shoulders, tilting her head to the side.

“Tell me what it means.”

“Moy vozhd’ plemeni?” 

“Fuck, yeah, tell me, Nate…” 

With a sneaky little smile, she lowered her face down to his, bringing a hand up to place it on the side of his face, locking her eyes with his. “It means…” She glanced down at his lips, barely brushing hers against them, just before whispering very gently:

“My Tribal Chief.”

Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning. Roman groaned, his grip on her bruising as his thrusts became dangerously erratic. “Fuck,” he snarled. “You gon’ make me cum, baby girl… You ready for it?”

“Yes,” Nate whimpered, feeling him pulsing inside her. “Cum inside me, Daddy. Fill me up… please.”

He let out a guttural moan as he came hard, trembling as he emptied himself. Nate’s breath hitched as she felt the hot rush of his release, helping him ride it out whilst she rode out the tail end of her own, nails digging into his skin. Breath a mixture of gasps and moans.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, her forehead resting against his, both of them panting, chests heaving, trying to catch their breaths. The air in the car was thick, the windows fogged from their insatiability. Neither of them spoke, too consumed by the moment to ruin it with words.

But the silence didn’t last long.

Nate’s phone, tossed somewhere in the front seat, began to ring obnoxiously, breaking the bubble they had created. She groaned, reluctantly sliding off Roman’s lap, her body immediately feeling the loss of him. She pulled her dress back into place, wincing at the soreness between her legs, before crawling over the centre console to reach for her phone.

Roman’s hand came down hard on her ass, a loud smack echoing in the enclosed space. “You really gonna just leave Daddy like that, huh?” he teased, his voice deep and satisfied.

She smirked, but didn’t respond. She grabbed her phone, pulling it up to see who was calling—and then her heart stopped.

Ten missed calls. All from Becky Lynch.

Her blood ran cold. Her earlier calm, her sense of control—all of it vanished. “Fuck,” she muttered under hear breath.

Roman leaned back, watching her with a smug grin until he saw her expression shift. “What’s wrong?” he asked, still lazy with post-orgasmic bliss.

Nate whipped her head around, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me my phone was ringing, you twat?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unphased by her sudden shift in mood. “Didn’t hear it. You were a little busy ridin’ my dick, remember?”

“Are you fucking serious? It’s Becky!” she snapped, panic rising in her chest. “I’ve been waiting for this phone call for a fucking week, Roman, she’s the only one who can help us right now! Chert voz’mi…”

Nate muttered a few more curses under her breath, finally finding her panties tangled up on the edge of the driver's seat in her comedown back to reality. She brushed past Roman as she crawled over into the front passenger seat, not even bothering to get out and walk round; it felt like the whole world knew she’d fucked up. Even something as minor as missing calls. It didn’t matter how small or meaningless something seemed—if Nate felt like she’d fucked up… then, by God, she fucked up.

Roman gave her a raised eyebrow, as though he wanted to say something, but she shot him a look that made it perfectly clear she was all business now.

“I’m calling her back,” she said firmly, pressing Becky’s number. Roman seemed like he was about to protest, but her warning glare, and his own common sense in knowing this really was important, kept it at bay. She hit the speakerphone button, ignoring his expectant look as the line rang.

All the while, Roman took the mature approach by leaving the car to walk around to the front seat. She caught a glimpse of him adjusting himself as he did, through the thin fog that settled over the driver’s window, before he smoothly slid back in. He proceeded to push his hair back up and tie it in a lazy little bun that still allowed half of his hair to hang down in what can only be described as a mini ponytail.

“Nate!”

The Irish twang caught Nate’s attention, and she swiftly turned her head away from Roman and back to her phone.

“Finally, ye answer. Thought I was wastin’ my time here, callin’ nonstop.”

“Sorry, I was….” she croaked, taking a moment to clear her throat. “I was with someone helping me on this.” She darted a quick glance at Roman, who watched her with mild amusement. Smug prat.

“Right…” Becky said with a note of curiosity. “Listen. I talked to my contact. He’s willing to share what he has. Says he’s got some files, things he’s kept to himself for almost a decade now.”

Nate felt a flicker of hope, despite the awkward start. “And… you believe this person to be reliable, yeah?”

“He might have the information you need,” the redhead replied somewhat hesitantly. “He just… doesn’t want anyone to know it’s come from him. So… for now, ye not going to find out who this person is, ‘kay?”

She furrowed her brow, once again glancing at Roman, who shared her perplexion. “I’m supposed to trust this guy, but I can’t know who he is? Is this a joke, Rebecca?” She could almost feel the cringe from the other end of the line at the use of Becky’s full name. 

“I’m sayin’ ye can trust him, so ye can trust him, Natalka,” Becky bit back. “I know for a fact he has things nobody else does, and it sounds like ye need serious help.”

Huffing and sitting back, Nate thought for a moment, running her tongue over her teeth. She wasn’t even sure why she was so concerned about the identity of this contact. She already snuck out of her own home to meet Roman Reigns, and then proceed to fuck him a second time after she specifically promised herself she wouldn’t do that, so why the fuck should she care about where information comes from anymore? 

Well, the answer is simple. Becky Lynch. The Irish. Even though she wasn’t even connected to her family’s dealings anymore, information Nate had only just learned a week prior, it was still a sore subject. Too many betrayals. Too many friends lost. Too many… too much… death.

“Becky,” Nate sighed, “Please just tell me who the guy is, I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do with his name.”

A pause lingered on the line, along with some rustling, before she heard a long exhale from Becky. “My husband. It’s my husband, Nate.”

“And his name would be….?” Nate trailed off.

“Seth. Seth Rollins.”

The name meant absolutely nothing to Nate, but she noticed Roman’s reaction out of the corner of her eye—like he’d just seen a fucking ghost outside the car.

She tried to focus on Becky’s reassurances that it would be fine, even as the energy in the car shifted dramatically. Roman’s expression had darkened into something bordering on feral, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched in time with the pulse beating in his temple. His hands rested on the wheel, but his gaze was distant, staring ahead like he was seeing far beyond the windshield. His eyes were sharp, glacial, the look of a man consumed by something deeper and more dangerous than mere anger—a buried intensity that might shatter given the slightest push.

“So,” Becky’s voice crackled through the speaker, “if I told you who I’ve got over here, I think it’s only fair you tell me who’s on your side.”

Glancing at Roman, Nate knew shit could go south fast if she said the wrong thing. But he was somewhere else entirely, locked in a place she couldn’t reach or… predict. With her only option being to think on her feet, Nate cleared her throat, injecting a hint of authority into her voice. “Becks, I can promise you this person’s very resourceful. He’s already done enough for me to know he’s being honest,” she took a quick look down at her leg, right at the area on her thigh that now bore a scar from a bullet and had once been tended to by the man in question. “No reason to worry.”

Becky paused, then pressed, only slightly more serious. “Nate… do you trust this person?”

Nate looked at Roman again, lingering this time. The question felt a little heavier than she wanted it to, but she had no choice but to answer honestly. Why wouldn’t she?

“I think I do.”

For a beat, the answer suspended in the space between them. It came out a lot softer than usual, almost vulnerable—a state she rarely allowed herself to fully fall into, not even when by herself. Certainly never around Roman. Good job he was still in his own world, distantly staring daggers into nothing ahead of him, but she did feel the shift in atmosphere. The way it seemed to… bend around the truth she had just spoken.

Just like that, Nate’s usual edge returned as she added dryly, “Besides… he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’ll go along with things whether he likes it or not.”

“Fine,” Becky replied, satisfied for the moment. “Then we’ll meet—all four of us, some place quiet. Can’t be havin’ too many eyes on us.”

“Trust me, I’m more than happy with that,” Nate laughed ruefully, once again reminded of the repercussions of being caught mingling with The Bloodline.

“Good. Seth will run through what he thinks is important, it might be relevant, it might not, but it sounds like it’s worth a shot… So, I’ll set it up, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Nate nodded, and with a quick goodbye, she ended the call, her attention snapping back to Roman. His silence now seemed like an echo.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Alright, what the fuck’s wrong with you now?”

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched tighter, and he gave her a sharp side glance, before starting the engine. “You wanna go back to that mansion of yours, or you wantin’ me to take you to Tribeca?”

Nate crossed her arms with a shrug. “Just take me home. Can’t be gone lo—”

“Wasn’t askin’ for your life story,” he cut her off.

She glared at him, unimpressed. “Right, didn’t expect you to care to listen to me anyway. Chertov pridurok…”

As they drove, her eyes tracked the streets and landmarks, noting that he wasn’t heading toward the usual route back to her home. The building started blurring into unfamiliar territory.

“Uh, are you lost, or just getting creative?” she muttered, half-joking, half-over this night.

“We’re takin’ the long way,” he curtly responded without paying her the respect of a glance.

She rolled her eyes, but her curiosity got the best of her. Before she could ask why, Roman’s voice came, low and gravelly, cutting through the silence like a knife, just as harshly as it did through the scowl on his face.

“Think it’s time I tell you a lil' somethin’ ‘bout Seth fuckin’ Rollins.”

[memorabxlia]

Tails of Joy ━ 제이크

genre: fluff summary: "Let's give that puppy a loving home" warnings: mentions abandonment, est relationship, thats all i can think of pairing: nonidol!jake x fem!reader wc: 740 a/n: repost from my old blog

I couldn't believe my luck when I stumbled upon the cutest puppy I had ever seen. I was walking through the park, enjoying the warm sun and the soft breeze when I saw it. The little ball of fur was running around, chasing and wagging its tiny tail. I couldn't help but stop and admire the puppy, my heart melting at the sight of it.

I had always been a dog lover, But ever since I moved to the city for work, I had never found the time or the space to have a dog of my own. But now, standing in front of this adorable puppy, I couldn't resist the urge to bring it home. As I knelt down to pet the puppy, I’d noticed a collar around its neck. There was a tag with a phone number on it, indicating that the puppy belonged to someone. I hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to take the puppy home and doing the right thing by finding its owner. But the puppy seemed to have made up its mind, as it jumped into my lap and started licking my face. I couldn't help but laugh, my heart bursting with joy at the playful puppy's affection. I took out my phone and called the number on the tag, hoping that the owner would understand my attachment to the puppy and allow me to keep it. But to my disappointment, the owner explained that they were unable to keep the puppy and were looking to give it away. My heart sank at the thought of this adorable puppy being abandoned. I knew I had to do something to save it from that fate. And then I had an idea. I could convince my boyfriend, Jake, to adopt the puppy with me. Jake had always been open to the idea of having a pet, but with our busy schedules, we had never seriously considered it. But I was determined to change that. I hesitated as I dialed Jake’s number, knowing that this conversation could change everything. When he picked up, I took a deep breath and launched into my explanation.

"Hey babe, I wanted to talk to you about something important," I started. I’d went on to share the story of the abandoned puppy I had found that morning, my voice softening as I described its sad eyes and wagging tail.

"I know we lead busy lives," I continued, but, imagine coming back home to a furry friend wagging its tail, excited to see us."

Jake listened quietly, mulling over the idea of adding a pet to their lives. He expressed his concerns about their schedules and the responsibility that came with having a dog.

I persisted, her tone gentle but determined. "Yes, it will require some adjustments, but together, we can make it work."

After a thoughtful pause, Jake finally relented. "Okay, let's do it. Let's give that puppy a loving home." A smile spread across my face, knowing that this decision would bring a new chapter of love and adventure into our lives. I couldn't contain my excitement as I rushed to the shelter to officially adopt the puppy. I couldn't believe that my dream of having a dog was finally coming true. And as I walked out of the shelter with the puppy in my arms, I knew that I had made the right decision. As we settled into our new routine with the puppy, Jake and I realized just how much love and joy a dog could bring into their lives. The puppy, now named Leila, quickly became a beloved member of our small family. Her playful antics and unwavering loyalty warmed our hearts every day. Jake and I couldn't imagine our lives without Leila now. We took her on long walks in the park, played with her in our apartment, and even took her on road trips. And through it all, Leila was there, wagging her tail and showering us with unconditional love. Looking back, I couldn't believe that I had almost missed out on the chance to adopt Leila. I was grateful that I had followed my heart and convinced Jake to give the puppy a chance. For now, our apartment was no longer small, but filled with love, laughter, and the pitter-patter of tiny paws. And I knew that I had made the best decision of my life by bringing Leila into our home.

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

jin guangshan and lan qiren yaoi perhaps? since their shapes create a perfect balance?

Two old men perform worlds first successful 96.

[vyrion]

in this moment, you were loved: on siffrin and looping

espeonkin // ishhbowl, how do you survive the apocalypse? // navysealt4t, "names" // puremode // james hall & richard siken, "the poetry of hostile witness: an interview with richard siken" // in stars and time // lovecrumbs, all mentions of love and death in romeo & juliet // amal el-mohtar, "this is how you lose the time war" // natalie wee, "yes & no" // mavigator, "anglerfish" // in stars and time // evelyn berry, grief slut // ovid, orpheus and eurydice // moodylilac

[wonderholegifs]

Rhett & Link's Wonderhole